#soa chibs

Part 1 of 3

Summary - A few practice contractions, a club lockdown, and one very overprotective biker who's convinced you need feeding every five minutes.

Word Count - 5300ish

Where He Softens | Chibs Telford x reader | one shot

A/N I felt like writing something domestic and romantic today, maybe even fluffy and comforting. Just dancing around the kitchen with one of your favorite bikers🖤

It was late at night. Everything had already gone silent, a streetlight flickered through a small gap in the curtains. The entire neighborhood was probably asleep by now, peaceful in a way Charming itself never truly was. Somewhere out there engines still roared and deals were still being made, but inside the house there was only the low hum of old rock music drifting through the living room. You lay curled up on the couch beneath a soft blanket. The fabric brushed against your bare legs while the faint scent of cigarette smoke and old whiskey still lingered in the room from earlier that evening. You weren’t asleep. Just waiting for your old man to come home.

Tags: situationship, argument, p in v, cumming inside, that's about it. Chibs had a hard night

The feeling of your bed dipping under someone's weight made you lift your head. Blinking through the darkness, you made out the all too familiar reaper patch before closing your eyes again. It only meant one thing, Chibs.

The only man that had a key to your house, the only person that would come sneaking around in the middle of the night.

"Chibs?" your voice was soft and low, sleep laced in your tone. You could hear his heavy cut hit the floor, together with his shirt as he crawled into bed next to you.

"Ay, go back to sleep." you could hear from his voice that it had been a rough night and you knew that that was exactly why he was here. Every hard day, rough night, this was where he ended up. Your bed was a safe haven, your house a home and yet his relationship with you was undefinable.

It had happened more than once that you found him sitting in your living room, cigarette smoke filling the space as he stared out in front of him. You knew enough about his life to know better than to ask. He'd tell what he needed to, when he needed to. But that choice was on him and that was why he liked it here.

"Do I wanna know?" you asked, turning to face him in the bed. Exhaustion filled the lines on his face, his eyes downturned and sad. You reached forward, your hand stroking over his face. His eyes shut as he leaned into your touch, his own hand finding it's way to your waist.

"I wish I didn't know." he sighed, pulling you closer. All he wanted was to feel you. The heat of your body, your soft skin under his rough fingers, it all helped with grounding him.

"Alright, I won't ask." you started, feeling him nuzzle his face into the side of your neck. His beard always tickled you when he did that, sending goosebumps up and down your back. "Maybe tomorrow you'll tell me."

"Don't count on it." his lips ghosted over the skin of your neck and you felt yourself lean into him more. "You should really go back to sleep."

Chibs Telford x girlfriend!Reader

Spoiler Warning - Set during the events of season 2

Content - angst, comfort and smut ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥

A/N - I’m watching Sons of Anarchy for the first time and I’ve nearly finished season 2, and I’m already obsessed with Chibs 😻 For my frequent readers, I appreciate this is completely different from my TLOU fanfics, but I am working on plenty atm, and I thought I’d switch it up with my latest hyperfixation. Hope you enjoy!💖

It’s been a relief to see Chibs up and about again, even though you think he should be taking it easy, you know the stubborn Scotsman won’t be slowing down any time soon. The explosion had traumatised you, but it served as a reminder of the danger this lifestyle comes with. You were grateful for Tara, and you made sure to compensate her for the risk and consequence she took on for Chibs’ safety. The scar residing at his nape makes your heart ache, but you know that he is one of the strongest people you know. Besides, Chibs has really been milking it; you’ve been spoiling him by being at his side all the time to lavish him with your loving. However, ever since he has got out of the hospital, he has slightly withdrawn from you. You both still made love every night, spend all your free time together, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. A voice terrorised your mind, taunting you that he isn’t over Fiona. Hell, he wasn’t even divorced from her. But Chibs had reassured you time and time again that his heart belonged to you. It was Fiona that was refusing to sign the papers. But you can’t ignore the fact that he has only started acting off ever since Fiona came back.

Today was your last straw, you were sat at your kitchen island sporting a sour pout. At first, Chibs laughs. He thinks you look cute rather than intimidating. But when he realises you haven’t said anything, he knows he is in the doghouse.

“What have I done now, baby?”, he asks, cupping your face.

You look down, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You lose to your pent up emotion, crying in his arms.

“Hey, what’s this, darlin? Shhh, I’m here sweetheart, tell me what’s going on.”

“You tell me!”, you exclaim.

He looks at you confused, waiting for you to continue.

You take a deep breath, “Ever since she’s come back… you’ve been elsewhere. Am I losing you, Filip?”

He looks at you incredulous. He can’t say he’s offended, because he can’t deny the fact that he has been elsewhere mentally. The implication does hurt though.

“No. No, how many times, darlin’? I’m yours, you’re mine. There’s no one else- I haven’t loved another woman more than I have loved ye. I love ye!”

You look up at him, his words warm your heart but the concern hasn’t faded.

“Then what’s going on?!”, you cup his face, “You haven’t been the same and, I get it’s been a crazy time, I nearly fuckin’ lost you! But I can tell when you are keeping something from me!”

This is when Chibs screws up, he knows it.

“Ye know what? I can’t do this right now.”, he grabs his keys and leaves the house, slamming the door behind. You cry all alone.

You still went to the clubhouse, you still had your job to do as the best Teller-Morrow mechanic. You didn’t know if you yearned to see your old man, or dreaded to. You just wished things were normal again. Your head wasn’t at work right now, and it showed in the way you were messing up a simple tyre change (something you have sworn you can do in your sleep at this point.).

You kick the wheel in frustration, “Fuck!”, you cry out.

Gemma had been watching the whole scene, she approaches you. “Come here, baby.”, she gently ushered you into her arms, where you cried on her shoulder.

You both had a long chat and a smoke, “I just don’t know what to do, how to move past this with him.”

“First thing, baby. You need to realise that Chibs loves you to your goddamn bones. Fiona… you don’t have to worry about her, Fiona is the past. The only person Chibs really cares about from back then is Kerri’ann. Second, you remind him who his old lady is. Who has got him through thick and thin. Whatever he is hiding from you, he’s probably doing it to protect you. But you remind him that you are strong, and can take on whatever he is taking on by himself.”

You look at Gemma with a face of awe and gratitude. You hug her tightly, “Thank you. You know, you’re the foundation of SAMCRO. Without you, this club would be ashes.”

She smiles, “You’re welcome, baby.”, she kisses your cheek before letting you get back to work. You feel lighter.

You were in the clubhouse, just having finished helping gather firearms for the big retaliation against the League. You were sat at the bar with Juice and Tig, when Chibs entered. He looks at you briefly, soft eyes and a sigh. But that was all you got from him. Juice notices the hurt on your face.

“Hey, this is just a rough patch. You two will get through this.”, he pats your back with a soft smile.

You nod with a long sigh, “I know…Thanks Juicey.” Juice smiles with remorse, he leaves, leaving you and Tig alone.

“Hey Tigger.”, you greet him, taking a seat next to him.

“Hey sweetheart. Here, have a smoke.”, he hands you his blunt to take a drag from. You take a long drag before handing it back to him.

“Everything is such… bullshit right now, Tig. Do you think we’ll make it?”

“SAMCRO will always come out on top, baby. You and Chibs will too. Just give him some time. Poor bastard’s had a hit to his head, he is bound to act stupid, right?”, he jokes, eager to make you laugh again. A small smile pinches your face.

“There she is! Besides, if you ever want me to step in his place for a bit, I’d be more than happy to.”, he teases in his usual Tig Trager fashion.

“You’re terrible!”, you jab his side playfully, chuckling at his audacity.

“Hey! Watch it!”, he laughs. “Nahhh, I know I ain’t got a chance, you and Chibs are perfect for one another. Even if he’s acting stupid right now. I know he’s just thinking he’s doing what’s best to protect you, but he’ll see sense soon.”

You smile at him before resting your head on his shoulder, “Thanks Tiggy.”

He kisses your forehead, “That’s what family’s for, baby.”

Chibs is on his way to you after an insightful chat with Gemma. The whole time Gemma couldn’t help but smile to herself, you and Chibs were truly perfect for one another. She had just finished having the same conversation with Chibs as she had had with you in the morning.

“Mo chridhe.”, he spoke gently. The sight of your form on the bed, back facing towards him, was enough to shatter all his walls. Chibs lies on the bed beside you, his arms wrapping around your middle. He finds refuge in the crook of your neck, kissing you reverently.

“I’m so damn sorry, mo ghràidh.”

“Baby…”, you whisper softly, finally turning to face him. You both kiss, as if it’s the first time in years. But you can’t just kiss and makeup yet, you need to find out what’s been eating up your old man. You pull away tentatively, as if it physically hurt you to.

“Please baby, talk to me.”

Tears fill his eyes, he takes a deep breath before he divulges into what’s been burdening his mind and heart.

“I’m so fuckin’ scared, baby. So fuckin’ scared I’m gonna lose ye. Jimmy O… he’s already got me daughter. He stole Fiona back then- not that I have feelings for her anymore, but ye know. I’m scared of history repeatin’ itself with ye. I can’t lose ye, baby. Ye are my everythin’. Fuck, I was about to rat to Stahl. I’m so sorry, darlin. Ye deserve better, but please never doubt my love for you, baby. Mo chridhe.”

Now you’re both crying, you don’t have the words right now, so you kiss him passionately. A kiss that spoke of forgiveness and undying love.

You hold his hands to your heart, clasping them reverently, kissing them with just as much passion.

“Baby, we’ve gotta be transparent with one another. I’ve stood by you through it all, and I always will. We will get through this together, like we always have.”

His tears roll down now but it’s out of relief.

“I’ve been a right ass, baby.”, he chuckles softly.

You kick his ass softly, “Damn straight!”

“Oi!”, he laughs, he tackles you playfully. You squeal, laughing the most you have in the past two weeks.

Your lips meet again, magnetised, you moan into his mouth.

“I need you.”

“I got ye, baby, I’m always here for ye, baby.”

His clothes were off just as fast as yours were. He entered you with ease, intense pleasure flooding you both. As he thrusted into you, he praised and whispered affectionate Gaelic in your ear. “I love you so much, mo chridhe, come for me, that’s it baby, good girl.” He showered you with kisses as you cried out in pleasure.

You both made love well into the early hours. This time, it felt like your Filip had come back to you, like he always would.

thinking about chibs telford refer to himself as old man during sex.. 18+

fem!reader, mdni. cw. implied age gap. 'old man' in the dirty, dilfy way, not club way

the position he’s got you in is simple, quite comfortable really: laid flat on your stomach, side of your face resting on tightly crossed arms. a scrunched pillow sits under your stomach, acting as a prop of elevation for chibs.

he cages over you from behind, arms bent beside yours, lips ghosting the shell of your ear from the closeness. his slow and laboured rhythmic breathing matches the pace of his leisure fucking — the focus on depth and feel rather than the speed. every small, half wind of his hips produces the faintest of exhales from you both, your blissed sounds merging and muffling. 

every slight bump of his cock into your cunt moves you, the pair of you fluid in motion, moving like tiny waves against the bed. your ankles cross and lift as your knees bend, another point of elevation tightening your pussy’s hold on chibs.

“aye, wee lassie,” he murmurs at the new feel, muttering into the patch of skin behind your ear. “not gon’ last,” he adds between a couple pumps, pressing a needy littler of kisses to where he just spoke — beard skimming the sensitive spots along the back of your bare shoulder.

his pace quickens ever so slightly, barely noticeable really. but it’s as if he’s chasing the edge. his chest brushes up against your back with the subtle increase of speed, strands of his greying hair falling from the pushed back position and mixing with yours below.

“you gon’ come with your old man?” he asks, the question practically rhetorical — no need for a vocal answer. voice low and accent thick as he whispers directly into your ear. “aye?” he hums, waiting for acknowledgement and nipping at the lobe of your ear.

you muster a nod, the motion rather haste. a measly whine accompanies the action and your eyes flutter closed. with his hands planted just in your view, his fingers only a short couple inches away — you reach for his hand. and when he feels your touch, he’s lifting a palm to place atop the back of your hand, fingers lacing into yours. 

you clench around him intermittently, your breathing hitching and growing all the more strained with every rock of his cock. 

“yer right there, aren’t yer, lovie?” he muffles into your hair, his forehead resting on the side of your head — strength in his neck seeming to be lost.

“yeah,” you murmur, the whinge following the word is rather pathetic.

his grip tightens on your hand, knuckles whitening atop of yours. “then let go.”

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Probably a little softer then your request but I was feeling it. (Also wayyy longer then I intended)

TW: smut, tobacco depictions, soft chibs, p in v. 18+ MDNI

• Nightfall •

Chibs moves with the silence of a man used to danger. Soft-footed across the dorm floor, every motion careful. This Lockdown had been a joke, and you'd spent the day on your feet, helpful as you were, putting everyone before yourself.

Chibs, despite his tough exterior has always been careful with you, gentlemanly, you'd kissed, held each other, but never explored beyond that.

You hear the low clink of his rings as he gathers your sweater first, folding it loosely over the back of the chair.

His rough hands lift your tank top, your jeans, each item drawn up off the floor and out of the way with a kind of reverence.

There’s no leer to it. No smirk.

Just a soft focus behind his eyes—like he’s cataloguing every thread, every impression you’ve left behind in his space.

"You leave a wee trail everywhere ye go, don't ye..." he murmurs almost inaudibly under his breath, the hint of a fond smile in his tone, though you’re not meant to hear it.

His kutte comes off with a whisper of worn leather, hung on the same hook near the door.

Then his boots.

His belt.

His shirt unbuttons, one clasp at a time.

A slow ritual, like shedding the weight of the world with each piece.

The click of his lighter breaks the silence—small, brief, familiar. The ember glows warm orange against the low light as he steps near the cracked-open window, letting out the first slow exhale.

He leans against the sill, arms crossed, one hand loosely holding the cigarette between two fingers.

The smoke curls around him like a ghost, clinging to his hair, his collarbone, the soft shadow carved beneath his jaw.

"Still can’t wrap me head ‘round you bein’ here..." he mutters softly to himself, thick Scottish rasp coated in smoke and weariness.

"Look at what ye've bloody done… makin’ a home out o’ this mess."

He turns on instinct—maybe to stub it out, maybe just to check that you’re truly asleep.

But he freezes when he catches your eyes on him. Your voice is barely audible, soft and warm in the low dark.

"I can't sleep."

There’s no startle in him. No mask sliding back down. He just holds your gaze for a long second through the smoke, then lifts the cigarette slowly to his lips again.

"Aye," he breathes around the smoke, tapping ash into a tray. "Me neither."

He finishes it slowly, no rush. Not now. Not with you watching him like that. When the stub is pressed out and the tray is pushed aside, he moves toward the bed again—bare chest catching in the dim light, every scar, every piece of ink a chapter written into his skin.

He doesn’t speak as he pulls back the covers, slipping in behind you, one arm drawing you in automatically. His hand skims over your waist, then stills there.

"Ye wan' talk about it, love?" His voice is low, warm against the back of your neck, his accent thick and rasping.

When you shake your head no, just nudging closer, he presses a kiss just below your ear.

"Alright, then."

You both settle. His breath deepens. Yours matches.

Your fingers curl around his hand where it rests across your middle, holding him there like a lifeline. And he lets you.

He doesn't try to fix your thoughts or chase away the ache that keeps you awake. He just stays. Anchors you with his body, his heat, the steady beat of his heart against your back.

You wrinkle your nose a little, burying your face into the curve of the pillow before letting the words out in a mumble against the fabric.

"You smell all smoky."

For a beat, there’s silence, just your fingers idly tracing the lines of ink on his arm.

Then that low, husky chuckle rumbles up from his chest, warm and unguarded. His breath fans across your temple as he leans his head into your shoulder.

"Aye, well," he murmurs, smile tugging crookedly at the corner of his mouth.

"that’s what happens when y’drag an old bastard in from the window, love."

He turns you in his arms with slow certainty, careful not to jostle you, one hand slipping beneath your shoulder and coaxing you to face him. Your legs shift beneath the covers, tangling softly with his, one of his thighs pressing to yours, anchoring.

His eyes crinkle at the corners when he looks at you—tired but bright, like you’ve flicked a switch inside him.

It starts so quietly that it could’ve been mistaken for nothing more than a breath.

One moment, you're teasing him—soft voice muffled by the dimness and his chest so close—and the next, he's looking at you like he’s never been kissed before in his life. Like this might be the first one that matters.

There’s no rush in him, no heat chasing the moment too fast. Just a long pause. A slight lean in. The barest flick of his gaze to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if asking for something without saying a word.

Then he kisses you.

Not hungrily.

Tenderly.

The kind of kiss that makes you forget your name, not because it steals your breath, but because it gives it back.

His lips move slowly over yours—his stubble brushes your skin, a rough whisper against your softness—but there’s no force, no pressure. Just a quiet pull.

You taste the faint bite of smoke on him, warm and earthy, but even that fades beneath the press of something more.

As the kiss deepens—as his tounge whispers across your lip, a request for entrance—his hand shifts behind your neck, anchoring you to him.

Not in control.

But like he’s afraid the world might wake up and take you away if he lets go.

You don’t realize he’s moving you until you feel the change in pressure beneath you.

The pillows beneath your head are soft, worn from years of use, the faint scent of his cologne clinging to the sheets. Somehow, in the space of a few lingering kisses and the hush between them, he’s gently rolled you beneath him.

But there’s no weight. No pressing need. His body hovers over yours, forearms braced on either side of your shoulders, the line of his thigh resting between your legs, protective, not pushing.

"Didn’t even notice, did ye?" he murmurs against your lips, voice roughened by smoke and the Scotch lilt of his amusement. His accent curls around the words like they’re only for you.

"Slippery bastard, me." You feel more than see his wolfish grin, as he tilts his head and tugs your bottom lip with his teeth.

His fingers drift down, resting at the edge of the button-up shirt you’re wearing—his shirt, too big on your frame, hem brushing your thighs. The sight makes his breath catch, just slightly.

"Jesus Christ..." he mutters under his breath, eyes searching your face as if checking you’re alright with each slow move.

Then, delicately—tenderly—he lifts the first button, slipping it free. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t undress you like a prize to be claimed. He does it like a man peeling away the world to reach you.

He pauses with the shirt hanging open, brushing his knuckles lightly along your collarbone. Not taking, not assuming. Just… being.

"Ye alright?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to break the spell.

When you answer yes, he doesn’t move fast.

His other hand rests against your ribs under the covers, thumb tracing slow arcs over the skin below your breast, grounding you both in the moment.

“Fuckin’ unreal, ye are.” he murmurs, kissing along your collarbone, voice husky, lilting with that rich Glaswegian lilt.

His hand moves across you— mapping you like you’re a story he wants to learn line by line. The pad of his thumb traces over the gentle curve of your hip, along the slope of your waist, settling at the dip of your thigh.

His fingers still for just a breath. His eyes search yours, quietly scanning—checking that you’re still there, still willing, still you.

His voice is a rasp, barely more than a breath.

"Tell me to stop, lass, an’ I will. But if ye don’t… I swear to God, I’ll be nothin’ but gentle with ye."

And you know he means it.

Not because he says it—but because every moment leading up to this one has proved it.

The laughter. The chase. The quiet way he stood behind you in the clubhouse when things get tense. The cigarette at the window when he thought you were asleep.

Your hands move hesitantly, barely brushing his chest as you explore the warmth of him through tentative touches. The muscles there are solid beneath your fingers—etched from years of battle and burden—but you handle him like he’s fragile.

Like you’re the one who needs to be gentle with him.

Chibs doesn’t move at first. He just watches you, half-shadowed in the low light, expression unreadable—but his breath stutters softly, and that’s answer enough.

"You alright, lass?" he asks quietly, voice thick with his accent, the words low like gravel over velvet. His hand shifts to your hip, grounding you, but he doesn't stop your touch. "Ye don’t have to…"

You shake your head, slowly. “I want to.”

Your answer is barely a whisper, and he swallows hard at the honesty in it. The lines around his eyes deepen as he watches you, waiting to see what you’ll do next.

When your fingertips rise to his face, brushing the edge of his Glasglow smile, he freezes—not tense, but still, like an animal unsure if it’s being hunted or healed.

Your touch is so light it could be mistaken for air, and yet it carries the weight of things no one’s ever dared give him before.

He inhales through his nose, eyes fluttering shut for just a second.

"Ye know what they are, aye?" he asks, voice low and rough, not challenging—just honest.

“Evidence, Filip.”

His lips part slightly, a small furrow of confusion in his brow, like he’s going to say something, maybe a protest, but nothing comes out.

"Evidence that you won, Scotsman" you clarify in a whisper.

He lets out a shaky exhale and leans into your touch.

Chibs moves slow—not because he’s unsure, but because he wants you to feel every second. His weight eases over you, protective rather than pressing. His skin is warm, the scent of smoke still faint on him, but it’s overpowered by something softer—soap, warmth, safety.

He pulls you closer, until his leg slips between yours, the maneuver parting your thighs beneath him.

The pad of his thumb moves in soft teasing circles around your sensitive bud, as he gently aligns his body with yours, the way his hand traces the edge of you knee is so unlike the gruffness he has with his brothers, his breath catches when your knee brushes his hip—but he doesn’t rush.

He shifts and palms himself, a slow delibrate stroke, before notching himself at your entrance.

Cool brown eyes flick to yours and back, before he presses himself forward into your heat.

The slow stretch spreads warm, outward like spilled mulled wine, a slow stain of surrender as Chibs sinks into you.

“Christ, ye ruin me, ye do.” he breathes into your skin.

You slide your arms around his neck, and your fingers brush the hair at his nape—coarse and soft all at once, salt and pepper strands curling slightly beneath your touch.

Your body arched around the intrusion, Chibs leans his forehead to yours, breathing you in like he needs you more than air.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face with a calloused palm and kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the soft place beneath your ear.

The room is quiet save for the low hum of the night outside the dorm walls. No engines. No shouting. Just the soft sound of his lips brushing against yours, and the warmth of skin meeting skin.

You're cocooned and consumed by him in every fragile cell, in every pulse of movement, as he rocks into you in a steady rhythmic roll.

You can feel the heat of him, the way he slides across the spongey spot within you in languid grazes.

Your bodies move like waves, with the same tenderness the break has as it maps its way onto the sand—time seems to slow as his thrusts continue slower, deeper.

Not demanding. Not dominant. There would be time for that, he would make sure, but now here with you, your breath hitching with at apex of each movement, it was like a prayer whispered instead of a promise made aloud.

There’s no hunger in Chibs when he loves you like this—His hands are careful, mapping you like a man reading scripture, fingers moving with reverence. He traces the curve of your waist, the slope of your thigh, like it’s a privilege, not a right.

He keeps checking in, even without words—watching your eyes, pausing when your breath hitches, brushing your hair back so gently it makes your chest ache.

When things grow closer, more breathless, he doesn’t break that tenderness. Every sigh from you makes him slow down, not speed up. Every sound you make earns a kiss, a murmur, a whispered.

Until the crash of your orgasm washes over you like the creeping of the tide, slowly and yet all at once.

Chibs stutters above you as he spills into you, the room is warm, thick with your combined breathing as you come down from your high.

The faint smell of cigarettes, soap and skin, lingers.

You let out a faint whine as he gently withdraws himself from your core.

"Its alright, Love" he murmurs, accent thicker now with affection, his lips ghosting the top of your head. "I got ye."

You lie curled against Chibs’ side, one leg draped loosely over his, Your eyes flutter open only as he shifts slightly, reaching toward the bedside table where his cigarettes lie.

The click of the lighter breaks the quiet, followed by the soft crackle of tobacco catching fire.

He takes a drag, exhales slowly through his nose, then turns his head to glance at you.

His fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, up and down your spine with near weightless affection.

"Ye all right, love?" he asks in a murmur, his voice still a little rough from earlier. There's a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to get a better look at you.

You nod, eyes half-lidded, cheeks warm, limbs pleasantly heavy.

Satiated. Boneless. The word flits across your thoughts, sleep trying to pull you under.

"Christ, yer so bloody soft," he mutters affectionately, brushing his thumb along your back. "Could lie here forever."

He tilts his head back and exhales a slow stream of smoke, the scent curling lazily in the air between you.

You’re just starting to drift when—

CRASH.

The door swings open.

"Hey Chibs, have you seen—OH—OH GOD—OH SHIT—SWEET JESUS—NOPE."

Juice freezes like he’s just walked into oncoming traffic.

There’s a full second of silence, where all anyone does is blink.

You, clutching the blanket instinctively to your chest.

Chibs, exhaling a slow breath through his nose, cigarette held just off to the side.

Juice, wide-eyed, frozen in the doorway with a folder in one hand and utter panic blooming across his face.

"I—I didn’t know—I mean, I wasn’t tryna—like, I wasn’t gonna—" he blurts, already backpedaling verbally but somehow still standing there like a baby deer in leather.

"Shut tae bloody door, Juicy," Chibs says evenly, not raising his voice. Not yet.

Juice flails.

"No, right, right! Totally—door! Got it! I mean, you should lock it next time, man, or maybe put up a sock or something—oh God, you’re not even wearing—is that her shirt?!—shitshitshit—"

You duck your head, cheeks flushing, heart thudding for an entirely new reason.

Chibs sits up slightly, the blanket shifting over his waist. His jaw clenches, cigarette dangling from his lips now, his tone growing colder.

"Juice."

"Yeah?"

"D’ye want tae die tonight?"

Juice stares.

"No."

"Then shut the fuckin’ door and disappear before I put my boot so far up yer arse, ye’ll be coughin’ out shoelaces ‘til Christmas."

"Right!" Juice squawks, spinning on his heel. The door slams behind him.

Silence returns like a drawn curtain.

You stare at the ceiling for a second, pulse still racing.

Then Chibs lets out a sharp, exasperated laugh and mutters around his cigarette.

"Jesus Christ, that boy’s got the subtlety of a fuckin’ grenade in a china shop."

He flicks ash into the tray by the bedside, stubs the cigarette out with two fingers, and settles back in beside you, pulling you against his side again like nothing happened.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder. He's still warm.

"Ye a’right?" he asks softly, voice lower now, gentler. His fingers trace the curve of your spine again like he’s grounding you, bringing your heartbeat back down.

You nod slowly. "That was… a lot."

He chuckles again. "Aye. Jus’ pretend he got dropped on his head one too many times as a baby. Helps it all make sense."

Then he presses a kiss to your hair.

"Back to where we were, aye?" he says, tucking the blanket up over your bare shoulders, "Safe. Quiet. Just us."

•❤️⛓️💸🌹•

Summary: Being Jax Tellers sister made for a crazy life, being Gemma’s and Clays daughter made it even crazy, but being surrounded by bikers made you feel safe but what’ll happen when you can’t deny your feelings for a certain Scotsman anymore?

Pairing: Chibs Telford x f!reader

Content: Age Gap, bit of angst, smut

•Masterlist•

Being in this life was a roller coaster, being the younger sister of Jax made for me always having a target on my back but being surrounded my the motorcycle club made it worth it, they all treated me like an equal and always made sure I was safe

Mom and Clay still treated me like a little girl even though I’m in my twenties which made it hard for me to try and show the others I was more than just a weak girl that was watched over all the time

Leading to me not having much experience in the men field, sure I’ve made out with a few bikers that would come around from other states but never more than that before they were ripped away from me by an angry Jax or Clay

And now, well I’ve grown strong burning feelings for Chibs, when he first came around I didn’t think much other than he was hot as hell, but now over the past year I can’t get him out of my head, the gentle touches in passing by, the late night talks as we shared a cigarette, yeah he’s way older than me but I don’t care I like them older

But how the hell do I go about it, I’m a virgin that’s drooling over a man part of the club, Jax would say no being overprotective like a brother and clay would have my head on a stick, but I needed to confide in someone

•

Walking into the club I sit at the bar, the group scattered around the bar laughing and drinking as usual

Chibs comes and leans on the bar next to me with a smirk that makes my knees weak and my heart pound harder

“Ey lil lady been missin ye around ‘ere” he said placing a beer infront of me which I quickly took a swing of

“Yeah me too, just been thinking about a lot, can I actually talk to you for a moment……in private” he nods

“Lead the way beautiful” I walk out the back and sit on a bench pulling out a smoke and taking a drag handing it to him as he sits next to me

“What’s got ye so glum?” I took the cigarette back after he blew out some smoke, my nerves on fire

“Do you think Jax and Clay would be alright if I wanted to be with someone in the club?” This man was the only one who ever made me feel confident enough to tell my dark secrets to

“Shite lassy, Jax might come around if ye talked to him but Clay…..whoever it is he’d have his head of a bloody stick” he groaned making my thoughts true, I look over at him again with longing eyes just wanting for him to hold me, to feel his lips all over me

“What ugly bastard round here’s got yer fancy? Pretty lil thing like ye deserves better anyways” he sighs running his hand down my back

“Doesn’t matter, like you said I could probably never have him with Clay around always watching over my every move”

“Never seen ye so distraught about anything before, ye must really like this guy” his expression gone from light hearted to worried

“God you have no idea Chibs, you have no idea, his the only man I’ve ever wanted”

His brows furrowed when he took the cigarette back

“Who is this bastard? Please god don’t tell me it’s Juice” I couldn’t help but let out a laugh

“No, he’s older, sexy, treats me like gold and I can’t get him out of my head” I say not taking my eyes away from him as I place my hand on his thigh and I see the moment when he realizes I’m talking about him

“Ye serious angel?”

I nod not knowing how to read his expression

“Ye have no idea how long I’ve wanted ye angel, if we do this, we gotta keep it a dirty lil secret” he whispers his lips hovering just above mine

“I want this Chibs, I want the real thing so can we take it slow?”

“Anything ye want ye have” he smirks again before he takes the back of my neck and smash’s his lips to mine, the kiss hot and rough making me want so much more when he pulls away I let out a whimper making his laugh

“Come on lassy, let’s get ye back in before they get suspicious”

•

It’s been a week since Chibs and I made it official, he’d come by late at night bringing me different gifts, sometimes flowers sometimes he’d bring sloppy burgers and drinks, but all I really wanted was just him, every time I’d see him my body would set fire my panties wet

We’d get so hot and heavy, making out on his motorcycle, grinding on his hard on, his lips leaving hickeys all over me but I’d always get nervous when he’d go for my shorts but he always reassured me

The club was out doing god knows what so it was just a few of us girls sat out side the show in bikinis and short shorts catching some run and gossiping about our men

Just me Lyla and Tara, Lyla talking about all the raunchy things her and Opie do, Tara not as open but still chatting along knowing I don’t wanna hear about my own brothers crazy sex life

“So y/n why don’t you got yourself a man yet, your gorgeous any man would be lucky to have you” Lyla asks

“Well if you haven’t noticed my brother and father hate seeing me with anyone, mom’s been begging me to get an old man to give her another grandbaby but….”

“But what?” Tara asks both now fully intrigued

“Maybe I do have an old man but I’m not really…” the rumble of bikes pull up into the yard some going into the shop, Jax and opie coming over to greet the girls

“What’re ye ladies chatting about” Chibs asks smirking as he comes over, all I want to do is jump in his arms

“Y/n was just about to tell us something now shoo, I have a feeling this is juicy” Lyla laughs and the guys out their hands up and back away laughing with eachother, going back to sitting in their bikes not far away

“Back to it!” Tara pokes

“I’m not really experienced”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m……I’m a virgin and I really wanna be with my old man but I don’t want to be bad at it”

“YOURE A VIRGIN!” Lyla basically yells surprised and all the guys look our way making me groan in embarrassment I cover my face already hearing the guys run over like a wild pack of dogs, surrounding us Jax, bobby, tigs, opie, and Chibs who had a confused look on his face

“How the hell do you hang around our scene and you’re still a virgin” tigs asks I could feel my face was as red as a tomato

“Guys you’re embarassing her” Tara said coming to my rescue

“Well when you have two cock blocks on your shoulders every second it’s hard to explore” I groan glaring daggers at Jax making them all laugh again

“Well baby you want someone to pop that cherry?” Bobby asks grabbing his crotch making every scoff in disgust

“You wish” everyone settled down and dispersed leaving just me and Chibs, he sat in the chair next to me where Lyla previously occupied

“Baby why didn’t ye tell me?”

“I….i wanted to chibs but you know this life you guys have crow eaters hanging off you any chance they get, I didn’t wanna disappoint you and you find out I’m a bad lay”

“Yer crazy woman, ain’t nothing ye could do would make me leave, ye ain’t just some lay to me”

“Really?” This man is gonna drive me wild, the hard sexy biker had a soft spot and it’s all for me

He nods taking my hand and squeezing it gently

“Ye got nothing to be worried about lassy”

The rest of the day the guys were teasing me every chance they got but I didn’t mind I know they’re just playing around

Sitting at a table Jax sits across from me handing me his drink

“Tara told me you got yourself an old man, you’re somebodies lady?” The anxiety was rising quickly, the overprotective brother was now right infront of me full force

“Don’t be mad, I wanted to tell you I just wanted it to be normal for once, I didn’t want everyone in our business and I know how you are with this stuff” he sighs hanging his head

“You know I just do that because I want you with a good guy, not some punk that’s only after some ass”

“I know and I love you for that, but trust me this guy is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, he respects me”

“Obviously if you’re still a virgin” he jokes making me roll my eyes

“Okay now who’s this guy”

“I can’t tell you, not yet”

“Why?”

“Well……”

“It’s not someone from the club right?” I open my mouth to say no but I can’t lie to him so I just stay quiet

“I can’t tell you yet just give me time” he groans again but nods

“Fine but if he hurts you I’ll kill him” I nod laughing

“Oh trust me I know”

•

That night I get cleaned up and slip into my white silk nightie anxious for the talk I know Chibs will have with me

I here the knock on the door and I quickly answer talking him in and all his glory

“Well look at ye my lil angel” he smirks walking in and closing the door behind him, his hands going straight to my hips backing me up to my room and down onto the bed

“Let me show ye how fun this can be” I nod quickly the anxiety about my first time immediately gone

“I want you” I whine feeling like every nerve on my body was on fire especially between my legs

I sit up unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants, he quickly takes off his kutte and shirt leaving him in just his boxers he leans down to place a slow kiss but I stop him

“Wait! Keep the kutte on baby” he smirks and throws it on before pulling my nightie off leaving me completely naked laying infront of him

“Shite Angel yer fucking gorgeous, let me get a lil taste” he traced kisses down my body quick licks to my tits then down to my thighs

“Come on Chibs you’re teasing me” I whine gripping his hair and grinding my hips

He laughs but his mouth is quickly on me making me gasp this new feeling was euphoric, his tongue is like magic

“Oh god don’t stop” I try to stay quiet but I can’t the way he’s making me feel is too much but god is it good

“Yes right there chibs” he slips his fingers in curling them while he keeps playing with my clit and I feel something build and build

“OH GOD CHIBS IM….”

“Let go baby I wanna taste ye” and at his words I cum so hard my vision blurs and I can’t help to grip his hair tighter

He leans over me again sucking his fingers off then brushing my hair back

“Ye ready for the real thing?”

“Please I need it” I push down his boxers and I can’t help but stare

“Like what ye see baby girl” I hum when he drags his tip through my folds still sensitive

He slowly pushes against me until his head pops in and I groan at the stretch, his hand coming to circle my clit

“Breath baby it’ll feel better soon” he keeps pushing in until I feel him flush against me

“Fuck you’re so deep” he smirks and pushes down on my lower stomach making me moan

“Right here doll” he slowly starts to thrust hitting a spot so good even better than before

Seeing him over me his expression in ecstasy, his eyebrows furrows and hearing him groan as he got faster drove me even closer to the edge

“So close fuck you feel so good baby” I basically scream

“Cum for me Angel, gonna pump ye so full it’ll be dripping out of ye” those words were all I need to let go and cum all over him then feeling him cum in me something so foreign but so good

“Fuck” we say in unison as he pulls out feeling his cum drip out, he spreads my legs wide open watching

“Look at that, taking it so well” he carries me to the washroom and washes us both up before pulling on his boxers and putting my nightie back on holding me close in bed

“Did I do good?” I ask looking up at him as his hand traces gently asked my arm

“Ye were amazing doll, now get some rest”

•

The next morning I wake and Chibs is gone and all I want to do is curl up next to him and feel him all day, but I know he’s got shit to do and I’ve got to help the club out, I get ready a little sore and head over to the shop

Only a few guys are around the rest probably out doing illegal stuff, I start cleaning around the places and doing some work in the shop for mom running through papers

“Missed ye lassy” I hear that beautiful Scottish voice behind me I turn dropping the papers and jumping into his arms

“Everything okay?” I ask looking him over

“I’m fine baby, how’s yer tight lil pussy” he smirks smacking my ass

“Great, little sore but in a good way”

“Yeah, ye sure I wasn’t to rough on ye” he whispers his cologne enveloping me making it me new favorite smell

“Maybe next time you can show me how to ride you how you like”

He smashes his lips against mine and I can’t get enough he lifts me onto the desk wrapping my legs around his sides so lost in the moment I don’t even hear the door to the office open

“You’ve got to be shitting me” we both turn seeing Jax and tigs in the doorway, one smirking the other surprised and angry

“Uh oh”

•

Part.2