#i'm sure this has been done before. however. I wanted to make it LMAO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanficimagery · 3 months

Text

Violent Little Thing

To the Sons of Anarchy, you're just Happy's neighbor that doesn't care for drama or the fact that they wear kuttes. But in actuality, you've dealt and probably have done far worse, and it isn't until you're kidnapped that they find out your secret.

Author's Note: Long time no see, huh? Does this mean I'm back? Hell no. This has been sitting in my drafts since mid-2023 and thought it was time to go out. For never having seen more than a few episodes, I love these SOA boys. I'm not super familiar with the lingo or clubhouse etiquette, so this is gonna take place away from that particular setting. Trigger warning for graphic violence and attempted sexual assault (it doesn't get far). Reader is gonna be a little… off the rails. Blame all the dark romance I've been reading lmao.

Before moving into your new home, you knew it was going to be a fixer upper. Fortunately for you, you loved working with your hands, and after having been banished to Charming in hopes of calming your inner demons, you were going to have a lot of time to do just that. But the joke was on your family because there was no calming your demons. People just needed to learn to not piss you the fuck off.

When you get to the house, however, you see that a majority of the work has already been done for you. The only thing left for you to do is paint the walls, rearrange furniture, and unbox your belongings. The electricity and water are already turned on, and wifi has been installed with your password on a sticky note.

The master bedroom is huge and you love it, but you don't have nearly enough belongings to fill it. Your queen-sized bed looks tiny and you immediately want something bigger. So heading back outside to your vehicle, you grab your bag that has your laptop inside and head back in. Setting up at your kitchen island, you search for a place that will deliver any type of food and beverage. You find a pizzeria just on the outskirts of town that will deliver to Charming, so you place a quick order. It's a forty minute wait period, so to pass the time you start looking up bedroom ideas.

You run across a California king bed, but none really catch your eye. What does catch your eye, however, are the DIY beds that touch from one side of the wall to the other. You take your laptop back to your bedroom so see if it's do-able, and come to the conclusion that it is. You'll have to add some floating shelves since you won't be able to have bedside tables, but that's perfectly fine with you. You then take the time to get down the measurements of your room because you still have to situate your dresser and mount your TV to the wall, and you need to make sure everything will fit.

Eventually your food gets there and, sitting at the kitchen island, you dig in. You slowly eat and drink your fill, and then place any leftovers in the already cool refrigerator.

Needing some bathroom necessities and sheets for your current bed, you unload your vehicle. You place each box in their respective rooms, but leave them mostly boxed up. And not wanting to get any TV's mounted or bed fully put together since you still have to paint the walls, you remain on your laptop to pass the time and send messages to your family to let them know you're okay.

It takes you a couple of weeks to build your bed frame, get in your special ordered mattress, and paint the walls to your liking. You do most of your building in the driveway, so you've become accustomed to the people living on your street, waving at them as they pass or call out a greeting. But there's one individual everyone seems to steer clear of or avoid eye contact with, and that's your next door neighbor who rides a motorcycle and proudly wears a Sons of Anarchy kutte.

You had first seen the intimidating, bald man when he showed up a couple days after you moved in. You'd looked up when you heard the rumblings of engines and watched two motorcycles pull into the driveway next door. You paused hammering for a moment, nodded at the two men who took a moment to stare back, and then went back to work.

Over the next few days, men came and went from next door. And each time, they were intrigued watching you work. But eventually your bed frame was finished and you had to situate it in your bedroom. Maneuvering the mattress was no easy feat, but you were not about to ask for help, and it didn't take you long to finally finish furnishing your home to your liking.

As busy as you've been, you haven't really had the time to eat a home cooked meal. So after everything, you took a trip to the grocery store and bought hundreds of dollars of food and drink to stock your kitchen with.

The air is finally cool and crisp, so all the windows to your home are wide open. You'd been feeling a little restless, so you opted to cook a meal that would keep you busy. Enchiladas, rice, and beans is one of your favorite meals, so after making sure you have everything, you put a pot of beans to cook. They have to cook for a few hours, so while that's going on you get online to check in with your family.

When the beans are done, you get started on browning hamburger meat. Setting a majority of the meat aside, you use only a bit for the enchilada sauce. You pour in water, flour, spices, and some canned chili until it's to your liking, and then heat up some corn tortillas before you start rolling the enchiladas. After they're in a pan that holds far too many for only you, you pour the enchilada sauce on top before shredding some cheese atop of it. Once that's in the oven, you get started on a pan of rice.

It's when the rice is boiling that your doorbell rings. A little tired and more than a little hungry, you grab up your beer after turning off the rice, and take a swig of it on your way to the door. Since the door is wide open, you can easily see who's standing just on the other side of the screen door. It's one of the Sons, one of the only two with brown skin that you've seen so far. But this isn't the intimidating bald one, this is the one with a shaved mohawk down the center of his head and a killer smile.

You arch an eyebrow at him as he tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and you take another swig of beer as you lean against the door jamb. "Yes?"

The corner of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens. "Hi. Uh, me and my boys are chilling next door and we couldn't help but smell whatever it is you're eating. You mind sharing the name of the place where you picked up your food from so we can go get some too? Smells really good."

Your lips twitch. "Who said I picked anything up?"

"You cooking?" His eyes widen. "Bullshit."

You huff a laugh and nod. "YN."

"Juice."

"Mhmm." You push the door open just enough so you can lean out and peer next door, catching sight of two men sitting sideways on the seats of their bike. "Just you three?"

"Yeah."

You hum again and then back into your home as the screen door shuts quietly. "I've been watching you guys come and go, nodding cordially when our gazes clash," you say. "If you're willing to leave your shoes by the front door, you're more than welcome to pull up a seat at the table."

"Forreal?"

"Sure." You shrug. "I never learned how to cook for one, so I might have made an entire tray of enchiladas that will most likely go to waste if someone else doesn't eat them."

"Oh hell yeah." Juice turns, cupping his hands around his mouth as he says, "Yo! Free meal! Get over here!"

You watch as one man eagerly gets off his bike, whooping in delight of free food. The other, the one you believe actually lives next door, casually gets up at a leisurely pace. You push open the screen door as they're stomping up your porch steps, and Juice introduces you to Tig and Happy. You do your best not to smile because Happy does not look quite so happy, but he grunts a greeting when you tell them your name.

As Juice steps into your home, he's quick to kick off his shoes and tell his boys to do the same. They do and then you lead the way to the kitchen, pointing at your table. "Siéntate."

"Ohhh. A Spanish lady," Tig muses as Juice translates for him to sit down as you instructed. When you glance at him, his wild-crazed gaze makes you snort. "I like 'em a little spicy."

"And I like 'em less talkative." Happy and Juice both snort, and Tig beams at your sassy retort. "Beer or soda?"

Tig and Happy take beers, and Juice takes a soda. You serve them each their own plate of three enchiladas, a scoop of rice, and a scoop of beans. You serve yourself last with a glass of water, and finally take a seat to dig into all your hard work.

"Goddamn," Tig grumbles after his first bite of everything. "This is some Mexican restaurant level shit here."

You grin as you eat at your own pace, feeling content at watching three grown men finding your cooking delicious.

"So what's your story?" Juice asks. "In all the times I've come around, it's just you here."

"That's because it is just me here."

"Why Charming?"

You take a moment to swallow your food, washing it all down with a sip of water as you lean back in your chair. Then glancing between each man and the patches on their kuttes, you ask, "Do you want the real story or the story I'm feeding anyone who asks in polite small talk when they see a new face in the store?"

All three men slow their eating, their gazes sliding up to you in surprise.

"What's the story you tellin' the locals?" Tig asks.

Placing a hand over your heart and changing your voice so you sound like a southern belle, you say, "Just that I just left a very nasty relationship and my family thought I deserved a fresh start away from the man who dared lift a fist in my direction."

Tig snorts. "And the real story?"

You chuckle as your voice goes back to normal. "My family thought I needed to calm my inner demons, so they banished me to Charming. Joke's on them, I've made peace with my demons. It's not my fault people keep pissing me off."

Tig and Juice laugh as Happy smirks at you.

"What'd you do to earn banishment?" Juice wonders.

You shrug. "I wasn't joking about the nasty relationship. I just leave out the small detail that once I was out of the hospital, I went crawling back to my dickhead of an ex-fiancé and plotted my revenge."

"Crazy and you can cook. Marry me," Tig says.

You shake your head at him, eating a bit more before finishing the story. "I was raised to take no shit from anyone. So after he put me in the hospital, I made him believe all was well. Then one night, when he least suspected it, I slipped him a little something so he was conscious, but paralyzed, and set fire to his house."

The three men freeze, but you continue eating as if it was no big deal.

"Did you- did you kill him?" Juice warily asks.

"Unfortunately, no." You pout and then laugh at their awed expressions. "He had nosy neighbors so they were able to get the firetrucks there as soon as they smelled smoke. But when my family found out, they said I was sloppy, so I got shipped out here."

"Yoo.. what the fuck?" A moment of quiet ensues and then Juice is laughing. "That has to be the craziest shit I've heard in a while."

"I highly doubt that." Your gaze drops to the patch on his kutte. "I'm sure you've heard, seen, or taken part of some pretty crazy shit." When you meet his gaze again, you smirk. "Am I wrong?"

Juice grins and then looks at Happy. "Your neighbor is cool as shit. I'm kind of jealous." The air of amusement lingers as everyone continues to eat. "So what do you do for work?"

"I do some IT stuff for my family." You shrug. "I can work from anywhere, so I guess I'll still be doing that. What about you boys? What do you do other than ride?"

"We work at Teller Automotive," Tig says. "Only car garage in town."

"Really? Do you guys have any openings this week? I need my oil changed."

"Sure. We'll leave a number before we leave."

The rest of dinner is spent with the men telling you what there is to do in Charming and asking how long you plan on staying. You're not really sure, but if you end up liking Charming then you have no issues setting down roots. And then when dinner is done and you've seemed to exhaust all the small talk topics, you plate up the leftovers and send the men on their way.

Over the next couple of weeks, you befriend your neighbor. You take your vehicle into Teller Automotive and Happy takes it upon himself to take care of it for you. Tig and Juice had kept you company, and introduced you to a few of their other brothers when they took interest in their new friend. You were invited to one of their parties and, after some pressuring, you went. Nothing shocked you, not even a few members of the club getting head in plain sight, but Happy apparently shocked everyone else by gluing himself to your side. According to the club President, Happy was normally found in the ring outside or fucking his way through croweaters, but that night he made sure that no one bothered you.

Then more often than not, Happy reaped the benefits of your cooking and appeared for dinner before taking leftovers home for lunch.

In such a short period of time, you grow accustomed to the stern biker's company.

One morning, you're startled awake by the doorbell ringing and a fist pounding on the door. You sit up and scoot out of bed, hurrying towards your front door in a groggy, yet panicked state. But before you pull the door open, you peer out one of the thin windows on one side of your door. It takes a moment for you to realize it's Happy and that the sky behind him is still dark.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open. "What the fuck, Hap? What's going on?"

With a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, Happy looks you up and down. "You always answer the door like this or am I just special?"

You freeze and then glance down, rolling your eyes when you remember you went to sleep in a gray wife beater, that makes it very obvious you're not wearing a bra, and a pair of hipster underwear. "Neither. You're lucky."

"Sure." You narrow your eyes at him and he smirks. "I forgot the bills were due and everything got shut off. Can I crash here until I get it sorted?"

Without missing a beat, you say, "Yeah," and step back from the door, opening it wider. "Shoes off. You know where the bathroom is and I'm pretty sure you can find the guest bedroom." You yawn and lock the door behind your friend. "What time is it?"

"Little after five."

"Happy," you whine. "S'too fuckin' early. M'going back to bed." As you pad back to your room, you don't hear any footsteps behind you. "Stop staring at my ass!"

"Can't help it. Might start dropping by early now."

"Do it and die, Lowman." Stopping and turning, you point an accusatory finger at him. "Do not come in between me and my bed. I will murder you."

His lips twitch. "Worth it."

. .

It takes less than a week for Happy to get his power and water turned back on, and then he's back at his house. Though there are times when he shows up for dinner, dropping off on your couch when he's too tired to walk back home. Normally you would mind, but Happy knew how to clean up after himself, so you didn't mind that it seemed he was practically half moved in.

One night, you get a call from your brother that they need you to come in and work on cracking the passwords on a few laptops they'd gotten their hands on. You agreed, but first you needed to arrange someone to look after your house.

The next afternoon, you show up to Teller Automotive. You find Happy on a smoke break and ask him for a favor. When you ask him if he can keep an eye on your house for two days, he seems surprised, even more so when you give him a copy of your house key. You tell him he can crash there and eat whatever food you have so long as he doesn't trash the place. He readily agrees.

And when you return two days later, you realize you should have specified that he could crash in the guest bedroom. Finding a nearly naked Happy in your bed isn't half bad, nor is the firmness of his ass when you smack a hand down on it to wake him up.

Immediately he jerks awake, twisting his body as he sits up, and pointing a gun right at your face. You laugh and lick the tip of the barrel while wiggling your eyebrows at him. "Wakey, wakey."

"You're a fuckin' pyscho," he grumbles, lowering his gun.

"Yeah, well duh. You should have had that figured out a long time ago." He rolls his eyes before turning to drop down face first back into your pillow, shoving his gun back under it. You grin. "Was there something wrong with the guest room you've been using?"

"No. I just didn't know how fuckin' massive your bed was. It looked lonely without a body in it."

"Mhmm. I'm sure." He grunts and you chuckle as you crawl out of the bed. "I'm gonna go pick up some breakfast from the diner. Want anything?"

"Anything and everything."

"Gotcha. I'll text you when I'm on my way back."

. .

The dynamic between you and Happy ended up changing after that fateful morning. When he slept over, it was in your bed. You hadn't crossed the line past lingering touches or innuendos, but it was a given that he was the only person allowed in your bed. You didn't care for the croweaters at the parties his club put on every Friday night, but the two of you made a statement when he rolled up one night with you seated behind him.

The Sons nearly gaped as Happy amped up his protectiveness, pulling you between his parted thighs as he took a seat on a stool at the bar. Tig and Juice had walked over, and Happy perched you on his knee as you joked with his brothers. The croweaters didn't bother to hide their glares or sneers, but you merely smirked at their cattiness and took to scratching the back of Happy's head with your nails when you'd draped your arm around his shoulders.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax, the club president, had asked.

You shrugged and grinned. "We're friends."

"Friends don't stake claims."

"We're possessive friends."

Happy had snorted but didn't correct you.

From there on out, it was known that you were Happy's.

The Sons are relaxing at the clubhouse after a long day's work when blacked out Escalades and BMW's pull up. The atmosphere immediately goes from relaxed to tense, and the Sons flank their President when he walks out to the lot to see what the deal is.

Thug after thug exit the vehicles before opening the doors on two Escalades, ushering out four well-dressed men. None of them look like they'd be a person to fuck with, so Jax is extremely curious as to what the fuck is going on.

"Can I help you?" He asks, eyebrow arches as tattooed thugs flank the apparent important men.

"I hope you can." The one in charge reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a picture. "What do you know about this woman?"

When Jax is shown a picture, he mentally curses. It's Happy's neighbor and a friend to many Sons. He keeps his expression neutral, before shrugging. "Nothing. Should I?"

"She's my baby sister."

"Oh hell…"

"YN never misses check-in and she's missed two," the man explains. "It's come to my attention that she's made some connections to Happy Lowman, Juan Ortiz, and Tig Trager- all Sons of Anarchy. Do you understand why I'm here now?"

"Fuck, man, we didn't know. What can we do?"

"You can start by questioning your men to see if they'd heard from her."

At that, Tig steps forward. "I haven't seen or spoken with YN in a little over a week."

"What about Juan or Happy?"

Jax looks at his gathered men, frowning. "Where are Juice and Happy?" No one says anything, looking as confused as their President when they don't see their familiar faces. Then raising his voice, he asks, "Has anyone heard from Happy or Juice today?" Nothing. No one utters a peep. "What about yesterday?"

"Jax." Opie has his phone to ear, shaking his head. "Both are going to voicemail."

"Shit." Then turning around to face the slowly darkening expressions of YN's apparent brothers, Jax asks, "How can we help?"

. .

When your eyes flutter open, every inch of your body is in pain.

"How the fuck does my hair hurt?" You groan. You try to sit up, but realize you're on your side, on dirt and hay, with your hands tied behind your back. "What the actual fuck?" Clearing your vision, you see that you're not alone. Happy and Juice are with you, but they're in chairs with their hands tied behind their backs and looking a little beat up.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Juice tiredly muses.

"What happened?" Maneuvering around some, you manage to sit up.

"Kidnapped," Happy says. "They injected us with some shit, but they gave you too much."

You grimace as you roll your neck. "Dicks." It's dim in the empty barn you're being kept in, but you can see sunlight through the cracks of the walls. There are stalls for animals on either side of you, all empty, and a table filled with various blades and weapons not too far away. Your aching arms are your main priority though, so you move into a crouch and wiggle your tied wrists under your butt. With a grunt, you fall backward and maneuver your hands until they're situated in front of you. "Ah. That's better."

"Get up and grab a blade so we can get the fuck outta here," Happy urges.

You do as you're told, mentally scoffing at the thought that these morons didn't think to bind your ankles. Unfortunately, you're not so lucky as someone had been watching from the shadows. So just as you're reaching for a blade, that someone jumps out at you and roughly pins you against the table.

Bent over with your arms above your head and someone pressed up right against you, you immediately start thrashing and cussing out whoever it is. Happy and Juice shout, and start wriggling in their own seats when a hand then pins you to the table by the back of your neck.

"So close, princesa." A man tuts and you jerk in his hold, but still he persists. Laughter causes you to look up, watching as another two men step out from behind Happy and Juice. "Is that anyway to talk to your host?"

"Fuck. Off."

"Oh, I will." Just then, a hand grips your waist and squeezes, and you freeze. "Just not yet. I have some questions for you."

"Don't you fucking touch her."

When you glance up at Happy, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. You know what he does for the Sons, but you'd never seen that particular dark look or glint in his eyes, and for a moment it steals your breath away. Then you remember that look isn't meant for you, and you squirm a little as the man behind you laughingly presses his pelvis into your ass. "Or what?"

Juice answers, "Or we'll fucking kill you."

That causes all three men to laugh some more.

"Doubtful. But thanks for the laugh." Then the man behind you focuses on you once again. "Besides, my business isn't with you, but with the princesa de la mafia."

You tense. "I don't know anything."

"Aw. Of course, you don't," the man coos. "I would hope that your brothers are smart enough to never let a woman in on their secrets. But then again, you are the baby sister of one of the most dangerous mafias in the United States. I'm pretty sure you know something that I can use to hurt those brothers of yours."

You manage to angle your head just enough so you can make eye contact with Happy. He meets your stare, and you see it subtly soften, but then he's glaring at the man holding you once more. "I won't sell out my brothers."

"No?" The man releases your neck, only to trail his fingers down from your ribs to hips. "I don't want to mess up such a pretty face, but you do know there are other ways to break you and get you to talk, right?"

And then before you can answer, he's grabbing the back hem of your shirt and ripping it down the middle.

You yelp just as Happy shouts, "You motherfucker!", and squirm to get away. Across from you, Happy and Juice are pummeled a few times until they stop trying to break the chairs they're bound to.

The man rubs a hand up and down your back, fiddling with your bra strap, but never unsnapping it. You feel gross, but it's only when the guy reaches around to fiddle with the button on your jeans does red cloud your vision.

"Hey, Hap?" You manage to meet Happy's livid gaze. "Remember when I spoke about my demons?"

"Yeah."

"They desperately wanna come out to play."

"Shut the fuck up, you whore!" The man slaps you across the back of your head and you grit your teeth, biding your time.

Happy slowly smirks. "Then let them out to play, baby."

The moment the button on your jeans is opened, you scream at a pitch that startles every man in the room. Then pushing up as much as you can, you headbutt the man behind you. As he swears, you reach for the first handle you see and are pleasantly surprised to find a small machete. Then without even thinking, you whirl around and swing the blade, catching your would-be abuser in the neck with the blade.

Blood sprays as you immediately tug the blade free, leaving the man to try and cover his wound as he splutters on his own life force. From the corner of your eye, you see someone running at you, but another swing of the machete finds a home in the second man's face.

As the man falls back with a scream unlike anything you've ever heard, he takes the machete with him. Happy and Juice shout at you, and it's then you remember the third. He's running at you, a small blade in hand, and you reach for the nearest weapon. It's a metal bat and just as you rear back to swing, he swings first. The blade makes contact with your bicep, slicing it open, but you only feel the sting of it after you swing.

The bat clips the man in the jaw, stunning him. As he stumbles back, you advance. He sloppily swipes at you again, but you dodge it. The second hit with the bat hits true, catching him in the temple.

The man falls and you're quick to stand over him, bringing the bat down a third time.

The bat connecting for a fourth time makes Juice cringe, but Happy proudly watches on.

Thwack.

Thwack. A scream.

Crack!

"Shit. I think that was his skull," Juice mutters.

YN screams as she continues to wail on the man with her bat, caving his skull further and further in, to the point there's now a puddle of blood beneath his head and splattering with every pull back.

The barn doors open, and Happy and Juice tense when armed men start to file in, but they exhale with relief when they see Jax, Tig, Chibs, and Opie in the mix. All the unfamiliar men take in the scene with an air of indifference, but it's the expressions of the Sons that almost make Happy laugh out loud. They'd only known YN to laugh, feed them, or threaten the croweaters with violence. None of them, with the exception of himself, Juice, and Tig, knew the violence she was capable of.

"Uh, a little help?" Juice calls out. "My arms are killing me over here."

Tig rushes over, pulling out a blade to cut his brothers free. "What the fuck happened?"

"One of them threatened to rape her and she just lost her shit."

Juice is cut free first, and he immediately stands, rubbing his raw wrists. As Jax checks in with him, Happy is cut free.

"Boss, should we stop this?" Someone asks.

Happy looks over in time to see a guy in a suit grimace when blood is flung onto his pristine boots. "Do you want to get in the middle of that? You know how YN is. Let's just let her run out of steam."

As the guy steps back in line with a nod of agreement, Happy huffs and stands. He stalks over to YN until he's behind her. Then when she raises the bat high above her head, Happy lunges. He manages to grip the bat where it isn't slick and pulls it from YN's grasp.

Still very much livid, especially now that your weapon's been ripped from you, you whirl around to start screaming expletives and pummel whoever it is with your bound fists. Instead, arms are wrapped around you, keeping your arms stuck between your chest and another, and there's a gruff voice in your ear saying, "It's over. It's over, baby. The cavalry's here. You can stop now."

It takes a long minute for the voice to infiltrate the fog of rage, and then a moment to realize who's speaking.

When your struggles cease, Happy leans back a little to look down at you, but with his arms still wrapped around you. "You back?"

"Y-Yeah. M'sorry."

Happy grunts and leans his face closer to yours, and for a moment you think he's about to kiss you. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours as his eyes close, and he exhales with relief. "Don't be. That was hot as fuck."

You huff a quiet laugh as a bout of silence ensues, but then one of your brothers decides to ruin it.

"Hey, Lowman, we'll give you a million dollars if you give her your last name and take her off our hands."

You jerk in Happy's hold, turning to glare at all your smirking brothers. "Fuck off!" Laughter ensues at your disgruntled expression before Juice fills them in on what happened, and then Happy is tugging on your bound wrists so you look back at him before finally cutting you free. "Thank you."

One hand grasps the hair at the back of your head, gripping a little tight as he holds you in place so he can press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get you home. You're covered in blood, and I need to take a look at your arm."

Glancing at your arm, you shrug. It stings, yeah, but it doesn't seem deep enough. And then just as you go to take a step, Happy swoops you up into a bridal carry.

It's then you notice that you, Happy, and Juice are all barefoot, and it's Juice who answers your unasked question. "You sleep like the dead, girl. Happy and I heard them enter the house, but they still managed to get the drop on us."

"I'm getting you a goddamn dog," Happy grumbles in response.

"Only if you clean up after it." He grunts and you grin. If he wanted a guard dog for you, then he was cleaning up any messes.

Outside the barn, suggestions are made about where to go now. Jax suggests the clubhouse, but at the wrinkling of your nose, Happy says you'll be going home. Your brothers mention not everyone can go because that many vehicles will draw attention, so Jax suggests sending your brothers' men back to the club with Opie and Chibs. They agree, and then you're loaded up into an Escalade with your brothers and Happy.

When you get to your house, Tig mentions that they had cleaned up and straightened your furniture after they figured out what had happened. You thank him and let Happy carry you to your bathroom while Juice takes the guest bathroom.

As Happy sets you on the counter, you watch as he gets the first aid kit from beneath your sinks. "They're gonna talk."

"Let them. The club already thinks we're fuckin'."

You snort. "Please. They should know by now that I'd never settle for a relationship where the guy gets to fuck around when he's on the road." Happy freezes with the antiseptic spray bottle in his hand before shaking himself free of thought and spritzing your arm where you were cut.

"Is that why you haven't given me the go-ahead to slip between your thighs?"

You smile at his blunt question and then wince when he wipes your arm clean. "Pretty much. I'm not a fan of my partner sticking his dick or tongue in some rando pussy, then coming home and doing the same to me." Happy grunts and you arch an eyebrow at him. "Would you be okay with me visiting my brothers and sucking someone's dick before coming home to you?"

"Fuck no."

"Exactly." You grin triumphantly. "So, unless you plan to stop dicking down croweaters or sweetbutts, the most you'll get out of me is some cuddling."

Stepping back, Happy tosses the used gauze pads into the trashcan and then reaches into your shower stall to turn on the water. Then looking at you, he demands, "Strip."

"If I fully strip, there's no going back. You're mine and mine alone." You hop off the counter, slipping off your ruined shirt without batting an eye. "I was calm and collected at your parties before because we're friends, but that all changes after this. I won't take it easy on any woman touching what's mine."

Happy smirks as he eyes you in your bra and jeans, and then strips off his shirt. "Good."

You've seen the man shirtless only a handful of times, but seeing his ink never fails to give you pause. You reach out for the first time, tracing the snake tattoo that takes up a majority of his chest and upper abdomen, before you trace the various happy faces on the side of his waist. You feel his abdominal muscles twitch and then between one heartbeat and the next, Happy's crowding you against the sink counter and angling your head up.

His kiss is as aggressive as you figured it'd be, his tongue sliding against yours and teeth digging into your bottom lip. You give as good as you get, nails digging into either side of Happy's waist as you kiss him. Then when the need for air arises, you pull back and try to catch your breath. "Well okay then."

Moving out from Happy's reach, you strip, uncaring of your nudity and then step into the steaming shower. Happy isn't too far behind you, but you're not too interested in seeing him fully naked as you are cleansing a stranger's blood from your body. Standing under the waterfall, you watch as the shower floor turns red. Happy presses in close behind you so he's under the water as well, and you straighten up before leaning your head back onto his shoulder, smiling softly at his hardness that presses against your ass.

"No funny business, Lowman. At least not until we've eaten a fuck ton and slept for a day or two."

He grunts. "Agreed."

You immediately start washing your hair, and you're surprised when Happy takes it upon himself to lather up some soap on your bath pouf to wash your body. For the most part he behaves himself, but when his thumb oh so casually brushes over your nipples, you slap his thigh and pay him back when it's your turn to wash him. He grunts when you take his dick in hand and thrusts into your soapy palm, but you quickly release him to finish washing his body.

"Fuckin' tease."

"You started it."

You get out of the shower first, smirking as Happy tells you he'll be out in a moment. You know exactly what that moment's going to entail since his hand is already stroking his cock before you can even find a towel.

"You gonna want something to eat?"

"Send Tig to get burgers and fries."

"Alright."

Back in your room, you can hear a muttered conversation from somewhere in your house. Clutching the towel around your body, you stick your head out your door. "Tig!"

"What?"

"Happy said to go get us some burgers, fries, and Cokes!"

"Do I look like a fuckin' maid?!" Tig appears in the hall, hands on his hips.

You grin at him. "No, but I do have a maid's costume. Wanna try it on?" Tig gapes and you laugh at his expression. "Come on, Tig. Please? You can grab some cash from the junk drawer."

"Fine. But only because I know Hap will murder me if I don't, not because I'm picturing you in a teeny tiny maid's outfit."

"Sure, buddy. Thank you!"

Tig grumbles as he turns to march out of your house and then you worry about getting dressed. You dress in nothing but a sports bra and boy short underwear, and then with a reluctant sigh you head to the front. Everyone's in your kitchen, sitting around your table, and your brothers groan when they see how little you're wearing.

"Oh, shut up. You've seen me in clothes like this before."

"In tights, not underwear," one brother grumbles.

"Just be glad they're boy shorts and not a g-string."

All your brothers groan yet again whereas the Sons find the interaction amusing. You take a seat at the table, grimacing a little and touching at your raw wrists.

"Let me get that for you," Juice says. He leaves to, no doubt, grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. Then taking a seat next to you, he asks, "Did Hap disinfect your arm?"

"Yeah. Just spritz it again and wrap it. It'll be fine."

As soon as Juice gets to work, Happy enters the kitchen in nothing but a pair of jeans hanging off his hips.

"Jesus," one of your brother's mumbles. "Are people suddenly allergic to clothes around here?"

You grin as Jax arches an eyebrow at his friend. "You have clothes here?" Happy nods and sits, and you quickly introduce him to your brothers while Jax looks at Juice to say, "You seem to know your way around this place too."

"It's because they practically live here when they're not at the clubhouse," you say. "Hap's moved his shit in my room, and Tig and Juice have slowly taken over my guest room." Then glancing at your brothers as if you didn't just drop somewhat of a bombshell on Jax, you ask, "So what the hell happened?"

Juice taps above one of your raw wrists and you situate them so he can disinfect them.

Your eldest brother meets your gaze. "There's a new family in town- Jimenez. They're trying to make a name for themselves and thought they could intimidate us." You scoff as your other brother's chuckle. "When they didn't get the reaction they were looking for, they came up with the bright idea to target the weak link. They thought they had the perfect candidate when they found out we had a baby sister."

"Joke's on them, you're fuckin' psycho," another brother muses.

"I'm not-"

"We literally walked in on you bashing a guy's head in."

"And let's not forget the whole reason you're in Charming is because you tried to burn down your ex's house while he was still inside."

"Or that one time you wrecked your car into that other girl's car all because she broke your friend's heart."

"That cunt cheated on him. She deserved every bit of karma I dished out."

Jax snorts, shaking his head. "Christ. You and Hap are gonna be a pain in my ass."

"You know it."

Tig shows up just after Juice is finished with your wrists. Juice then dishes out the food to you, Happy, and himself, and you get up to grab drinks from the fridge. As you settle back down, Jax and your brothers watch in surprise at how the three of you go to town on your provided meals.

"So, what exactly does one do as a mafia princess?" Jax wonders.

Chewing the food in your mouth, you only answer him after taking a drink of your soda. "I'm the family hacker. If they need a computer hacked into to gather information or scrub information, I get called in."

"So, in other words, you're female Juice," Tig says.

You laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Juice grins and you reach over to fist bump him.

You continue eating as Jax speaks with your brothers, listening as this small portion of the Sons of Anarchy are filled in about what business your family gets up to. When you're finished eating, you stand and start gathering up the trash to toss. While you're up, you grab yourself a glass of water and some Ibuprofen. Then after downing four pills, you head back to reclaim your seat at the table, only for Happy to gently grab you by the arm and tug you down onto his thigh.

Your brothers don't care about your new chair, but Jax, Juice, and Tig can't help but raise an eyebrow.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax wonders, gesturing between you and Happy.

As you drape an arm behind Happy's shoulders to settle more against him, you smirk. "What's the matter, Teller? Scared?"

He huffs and then stares at Happy, but the man beneath you merely says, "Gonna start drawing up a crow. Does that answer your question?"

The kitchen goes eerily quiet and then…

"Holy shit. Hap's actually gonna take a woman," Juice says in awe.

"This is a momentous occasion. We gotta throw a rager." The glint in Tig's eyes has you narrowing your own eyes at him.

"You just wanna see a girl fight. Don't you?"

"Hap's been possessive of you since you first showed up to the clubhouse, but now that you're staking a claim, the thought might have crossed my mind."

"Are you sure you wanna see that?" One of your brother muses. "YN might traumatize a few poor souls."

Tig smiles. "I look forward to it."

You roll your eyes at Tig's excitement about possibly seeing you fight and your brothers chuckle. The Sons really had no idea what they were in for when someone tested your patience.

Standing, you keep a hand on Happy's shoulder as you say, "Well as much as I love, like, and appreciate all of you, you need to go. I'm exhausted and I still need to sleep off whatever I was drugged with."

Jax grins. "Is that code for us to get the hell out so you can bang Happy's brains out?"

Snorting, you shake your head as your brothers all grimace. "No. I'm seriously exhausted. The fucking will come later after we're well rested. I have a feeling I'm gonna need loads of energy for Hap."

Your brothers all make noises of disgust as they stand, and you take a moment to hug and kiss each of their cheeks on their way out. You promise to call when you're feeling better and then you're ushering the Sons out as well.

Locking up after everyone has left, you head to your room where you find Happy stripping off his jeans. He's in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs as he pulls your blanket back before sliding under and you pad over to do the same. You meet him in the middle, laying on your side as you drape one arm over his abdomen. With your head on his arm, you snuggle closer and Happy reaches for your leg to have it draped over his thigh so you're as close as can be without actually laying on top of him.

"Were you serious? About the crow?" You ask right before you drift off.

"Does that freak you out?"

"Not really. But if I get your mark, you're getting mine."

Happy huffs. "And just what is your mark?"

"My lips and name." You run your hand across his abdomen before walking your fingers down to one of the few empty patches of skin, below his belly button and right beneath where the snake's tail curls. "Right here."

"Above my dick, you mean?"

"Mhmm."

Happy grunts and then squeezes you a little tighter to him. "We'll see, princess. Now get some sleep."

#happy lowman imagine #happy lowman x reader #happy imagine #happy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #happy lowman #juice ortiz #tig trager #jax teller #dark romance

692 notes · View notes

leclerced · 4 months

Note

Heyyy hope you have a good day, i come bearing new thots

Credit where credit’s due, the idea is an old and deleted roger Taylor fic and not from me.

HOWEVER. Im now obsessed with this scenario with either lando or oscar (ill let you choose <3)

Roommate!AU !!!

Imagine you’re friends and roommates with lando or oscar and he has to study for his upcoming biology exam at uni. The topic? Female reproductive organs🤭

He just genuinely struggles with understanding the anatomy of a vagina and that picture in his damn book is absolutely not recognisable.

And since him and reader are friends and she doesn’t think thoughts all the way through she offers him to look at hers. I mean hes seen her shirtless a million times its nbd.

And staring at her beautiful pussy really does help him - to an extend. Hes so into his studies he doesn’t really process that he asked her „can i touch it??“ and she just goes along with it bc it’s already lowkey awkward and theres no turning back now.

She tries to not make it more awkward by suppressing her moans when his finger brush over her clit all while hes just identifying parts with his thoughts oblivious to what he does to her.

And she cant keep in the moan when he pushes his fingern in and suddenly he realises what hes doing. But he sneakily keeps going until she cums and hes trying his best to keep up the ignorant act bc shes js too hot like that😩

Got damn it i need a full length version of this fic again 😭

-🫀

i want to write a full length version omfg this is incredible!!! pictured oscar immediately. kinda set in like the early 2000s in my head bc i wanted to mention dvd rentals One Time and that's not a thing anymore but that's the world i grew up in LMAO

sorry i like got too into this at first and forgot i made plans to game with my friend and rushed the ending im sorry. added read more bc it's just over 1k <3 i think i like this a lot other than the ending idk . lmk what u think i hope it meets the expectations set by the original

reader thinks oscar's an innocent idiot but he just probably shouldn't be in medical school because while he can find the clit, he certainly doesn't know the name of it.

Her roommate has been staring at the same page for half an hour, they're seated on opposite ends of the couch, leaning against the arms and facing each other. She has a Stephen King novel leaned on her propped up knees and Oscar has an open textbook balanced on one thigh and a notebook open to a blank page on the other. After another frustrated sigh leaves him, she drops her book on the coffee table and leans over to see what he's looking at. She almost laughs when she sees the miniature sketch of a vagina, "You know, the DVD rental place down the street has rated X movies."

Oscar snorts, "I'm trying to work, leave me alone. I'm supposed to learn all the anatomical names of a vagina, but the only drawing I have is in this stupid book."

She leans in further to the diagram and hums, "That's a horrible diagram, no wonder you're getting nothing done. How old is that that textbook?" He shrugs and stretches back over the arm of the couch, "Probably like thirty, the professor wrote it himself and he's ancient."

Her eyes get pulled to his hips as he reaches behind his head and groans, his shirt lifting the slightest to reveal soft skin before he drops his arms back down. She licks her lips as she directs her gaze up to his face, "I could show you mine, if you want." The swift inhale Oscar makes is audible, he keeps his gaze locked on the books in his lap as he says, "Really?" Instead of verbally agreeing, she just scoots back to where she was leaning moments before on the arm of the couch and shimmies her shorts down before she can think twice. She giggles at the look on Oscar's face as she kicks the shorts off her ankles and he takes in the sight of her panties, lacy and red. "Are you sure?"

She shrugs and teases, "Well it's not like they have 3D models. I'm sure, I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Are you sure?" He nods slowly and she tugs her panties down her thighs and smirks at the blush that creeps up his cheeks as she drops them on his lap. She doesn't know where the sudden confidence has come from, but she feels no shame as she opens her legs to him. She drops one foot to the floor and the other lifts to rest on the back of the couch. Oscar holds her eye for a moment before she watches his gaze drift down her body and he starts to lean in before pausing, "Can I get closer?" She nods at his question and answers, "As close as you want." Oscar lurches forwards, knocking the forgotten textbook to the floor as he fumbles to grab his pen and notebook to take notes.

She can't read his chicken scratch handwriting, so whatever he's scrawling about her pussy is undecipherable to her as she watches him analyze her. She's trying not to think about how this could be weird, how it is weird to offer to let your roommate use you as an anatomy dummy. It's not really the first time. He's done other things, like when he needed to practice IVs so she let him give her a banana bag the next time she was hungover. She liked teasing him about it, calling him Doctor Piastri when she let him listen to her heart with his stethoscope. Or when she comes down with a cold and she calls him into her room to diagnose and treat her, and he brings her cold medicine and soup from the deli down the street.

She's pulled out of her thoughts when he clears his throat and she meets his eyes before she hums quizzically. The pink tint that had spattered his cheeks turns into a bright red as he asks, "Can I touch you?"

She almost thinks she didn't hear him correctly, but there's no way he could have said anything else, so she tries to joke, "So you're a hands on learner, then?"

Oscar quickly counters, "Yeah, do you mind?"

It's her turn to lose her breath as she stupidly nods and blushes as she takes in the realization that he's about to touch her pussy. In the name of science, she agrees, "No, go ahead." Then, his hand is on her pussy and his focus is entirely on the space between her legs as he spreads her lips apart and she has to close her eyes and force her mind to other places as he tilts his had interestedly. She wishes she could stop her body from reacting to his touch, but she can't. Not when he pulls back the hood of her clit, she hears him writing something, then there's a soft pressure on her clit and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to not react. She tells herself not to make any sounds so it won't be weird, he's just trying to study, he's not doing anything to her really.

She can feel the wetness build under his fingers as he slips them down to her entrance and back up. She hears Oscar mutter something but she can't make it out over the blood rushing through her head as he presses his fingers back against her clit. "Is this... The labia?" The laugh she lets out is half a moan, "That's the- clit. Labia are the lips." He dips his fingers down and pinches one lightly, "This?"

She's somehow endeared by the curiosity, and sighs, "Yeah. That. Minora. The outer one is majora."

Oscar lets out a little huff, "How do you know the names? You're not even taking anatomy." His fingers find her clit again, this time lightly pinching it, and her thighs tense as he mumbles, "Clit." She hears his pen scratching across his paper and then dips his finger down to her entrance and presses inside. She wonders what he's thinking as he slowly thrusts his finger in and out of her, his other hand still writing on the paper. It's not until he slips a second finger inside of her and curls them as he suddenly presses his thumb to her clit that she breaks her silence, a whimper falling from her lips as the unexpected pleasure hits her. She somehow doesn't realize then that this isn't his first time like she thought when she saw the surprised look on her face. Then she flutters her eyes open and immediately realizes it because he's already looking up at her, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. She gasps, "You- you didn't really need help, did you?"

He shrugs innocently, "I still don't know the names, could you remind me?" She can't tell if he's being serious or not as he quickens his thumb on her clit and she's saved from responding as he pushes up her body and presses his lips to hers hungrily.

#ask #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri #op81 #op81 smut #🫀anon

455 notes · View notes

the-s1lly-corner · 9 days

Note

May we get some general dating headcanons with Ticci Toby Masky and Hoodie please :)?

Dating the proxies

I'm more than sure that I've written these hcs for masky and hoodie before like way back when this blog was first made but ykw imma make new ones.. or not, idk I'm not rereading my old posts LMAO

Characters: Masky, Hoodie, and Toby

Notes: reader is GN

CWs: None

Masky

Semi verbal- he talks every now and then but like hoodie hes more of a listener than anything

Hovers around you when hes home, let's you ramble about what you've been up to because theres no way in hell hes going to tell you what hes done- at least overtime he learns to give you a headsup before he vanishes

It's almost like having a cat tbh...

Very defensive about the mask, he'll pull it up when hes ready..

Actually wait he really is like a cat because it's best to let him seek out touch and affection- he does lean into it if you show signs, though..

Acts of service and quality time, he may be absent for a few days at a time every now and then but he does try to make up for it

Jealous, but not as much as toby- VERY possessive though.. it's almost like a 6th sense when you're in danger or when someone tries to make moves on you.. he almost just.. spawns/hj

Hoodie

Gentle and sweet with you, but very firm when setting boundaries and honors them

More of a listener than a talker, however he does engage in conversations via sign

Speaking of, he's more than willing to teach you so you can better communicate with him instead of having to rely off of writing

Loooves stealing a kiss from you before he has to head out to do something, you usually only ever see the lower half of his face though

Compared to masky hes more likely to take the mask off, though

Very warm! Great for snuggling up to him when its colder out!

Very physically affectionate, loves holding you.. will linger or graze his hands on you as he passes by.. also acts of service- that's another thing he does to show his love!

The least jealous out of the three

Toby

You're definitely his first partner. The nature of his work doesnt exactly leave him much room to interact with many people, and before that he didnt have that large of a social circle

I bring this up to stress that he is very new to this, this is a learning experience for him and.. actually all things considered hes not doing that bad!

He can be a bit of an asshole every now and then, but ultimately hes so hyper focused to make sure you feel comfortable and happy around him, subconsciously he doesnt want you to feel like how he did when he was surrounded by the people in his old life

Very clingy, but he does his best to try to mind your personal space and boundaries, as well as this he tends to be jealous- overtime you do get him to talk about it rather than react or isolate

Hes soft for you, absolutely spoils you and anything ever happened to you he would scorch the earth if it meant making it right

Let's you borrow his jackets, sometimes to his detriment due to not being able to appropriately gauge how cold it is out- though hes naturally a physically cold person in general..

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta imagine #masky x reader #masky x you #masky imagine #hoodie x reader #hoodie x you #hoodie imagine #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #ticci toby imagine

139 notes · View notes

dxy-drxxm · 1 year

Text

SYNOPSIS:

Kaedehara Kazuha is what you'd call “bastard”— a cheeky smile, red eyes that light up at the mention of you, and seem to act like a cheeky little shit with others. When it's behind closed doors, however, you can attest that he's quite a lovesick fool— like you. ( gen. neutral reader )

TRIGGER WARNING/S:

Fluff ; established relationships ; Kazuha is a lovesick bastard (/aff) ; mentions of slight stalking (not from either lmao) ; a tiny moment of angst (Kazuha doesn't take care of himself) ; it's okay lmao it's just a tiny bit of angst

Kazuha was someone people considered to be... Normal by many. At least, when you look at him, he doesn't seem the incel type to complain about certain matters.

No, far from it, actually.

For those who knew him, they can attest that he's a good kid. He looks young, but in his early twenties, he's build up a name for himself.

Online, he's regarded as a writer- someone that writes his experiences in his space of the Internet, which is mostly about his travels. Albeit it is difficult to attain some sort of following from it, many people had found solace and excitement on his logs and stuck around for more.

So many would ask him questions about his travels, some ranging from how it was like being there, to mentioning if he had saw them in his trips to the cities for his bookings. Even when he didn't say anything other than make vague mentions of seeing them, people made their conclusions and ideas from it.

In a way, he certainly fueled the fire and had people guessing of where he could be— which was quite amusing on its own, if not for the fact no one truly knew how he looked like or what his actual name was.

Outside of his online presence, he worked at a normal job as a web designer, knowing he can't live off of what he wrote alone in the digital space. Tasked to designing websites and the like, he got a good pay out of it for his skills— even if the clients were a little indecisive at times.

But to you?

He's what you'd call a lovable bastard.

“Kazuha, you have a client under a strict deadline. Are you sure you can slack off?"

“Haha, you know I can, maple,” the albino said with a smile, giving you a look that screamed ‘so what?’. “Do you want to deprive me off of your affection this much?”

Case in point: right now.

I'm going to punch this man, you mused, squinting at the red eyed bastard before you. Shame he's too cute... Or that he's my boyfriend to begin with.

You knew Kazuha had been busy for the past few weeks, mostly because of his work as a web designer. He hasn't gotten a lot of time off of it from a nightmare of a client, constantly demanding changes one day to end up getting mad the next when he did what they asked.

It was... Concerning. Extremely so, when many who worked like him had spoke about them and warned him not to. But by the grace of archons, he decided to take it on.

Like a fool.

He's had a bit of a break from the client for the time being after you told him he hasn't been taking better care of himself. You swore that if he doesn't, he's about to land a trip to the hospital with his habits of skipping meals and not taking an actual good night's sleep.

(You caught him several times either taking power naps or drinking enough coffee that he's gone through withdrawals, and you told him off for it.)

It was only now that he decided to finally take a break as he finished up the majority of the design, saying he can always look back on it tomorrow for final touches... Which was the deadline.

You swear this man has no concept of how much time he's got left.

Giving said man a look, you said bluntly, “Well, you said that you'll be taking a break now, but tomorrow is the deadline. You know that client is going to hound at you for missing it.”

His brows furrowed at that.

“Well, I can always say that's the final product. I'd rather not waste any time being with you now that I'm finally done,” he rebutted, making you pause for a moment. Well, he wasn't wrong, that's for certain.

... that client was a monster to work for, after all.

Sighing, you nuzzled closer to him in his embrace, smelling the faint scent of wood. This made the albino chuckle as he sifted through your locks.

“Got nothing to say, love?” he asked by your ear, making you scoff. “Not when you and I know that client is a nutcase.”

This made him laugh— such a voice that rings to your ear like bells.

It made your heart race for a moment.

“Perhaps. But then again, you'd be surprised on why I'm taking a break now after what I've found.”

... wait, what?

You craned your head up at him, brows furrowed in thought. Did he found something damning? If so, why now? He's usually never kept secrets like this- especially if its something so serious.

“What did you find?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Kazuha's lips curved to a smile.

“Oh, you'll see, darling.”

It was only when he's sure his lover is slumbering when he got to work.

With his laptop in front of him, he turned his head and focused on what was before him. He's never told anyone what he had found out, as they'd never see him the same way again.

If, well— they knew the client personally, that is.

“To demand me of such work when you've got criminal records like this...”

He shook his head while he wrote a simply announcement on the front page of the blog, his once vibrant eyes narrowed as he stared at the amount of evidence he's got stored. Multiple accounts of stalking on another person— one of his friends, no less— and even blackmail and messages that can be rather concerning.

... it's even worse with what he's demanded, that one. Often demanding more and more of their shameless photos, but to turn it around and use it for more in fear of them getting out in public?

How despicable.

When he was sure he's managed to say his piece there, he's attached as much as he could onto the website. He was a petty man, but he's had a good reason to do so; especially when the client he's working is not someone he wished to be associated with.

Gathering information has never been easier, he mused. It's such a shame he's never a good one to hide his tracks.

When it was all done and attached in places he's sure everyone could see, he saved the website and it's code before messaging the client, letting him know that he was done...

... while neglecting to mention what he's changed, for if he knew, he'd demand some sort of recuperation. Of payment in return for his shame.

If he doesn't pay me back, I suppose that will serve as my insurance.

He did wait for the payment, for he endured 3 weeks with the client's nightmarish demands. And after telling him what he's done and the accumulated payment for the constant major changes, his client refused to pay.

Hah. I should have known.

He scoffed and sent one last message:

[ I understand. However, if you have decided to not pay me back, then do not blame me for what happens next. ]

And before he could say something back to the web designer, he blocked him from his contacts, setting his phone aside. Stretching his arms, he felt his muscles tense as he turned his head.

Kazuha reached over to close the tabs and shut his laptop down, standing up from his chair to walk to the bedroom with his beloved. He needed to unwind, and he's sure tomorrow will be a day of pampering.

Settling under the covers, the albino wrapped his arms around them to pull them closer to him, his head nuzzled to the crook of their neck. Letting out a sigh, his muscles relaxed and he finally felt drowsiness get to him.

... how nice, he thought with a smile. To feel a lover's embrace is rewarding. I love you too much, my dove.

Reaching up to kiss their forehead, his eyes closed as he finally, finally, fell asleep.

@.enxgmx-wrxtxr | do not republish, repost, or copy my works anywhere | 2023

219 notes · View notes

finniestoncrane · 9 months

Note

Finnie ik I'm in your inbox like every two seconds but can we all agree EVERY Eddie is more than happy to be cumrag for a partner... Like some have different needs and some will fight how much they want it, but dear God are they ready to get sticky and gross

Sticky Riddlers

Riddler Headcanons fuck yeah, although i don't think they're all too keen for it! there are some of them that are just like desperate for that kind of humiliation or opportuntiy to get gross and messy or even just to be used for something at all lmao so here's the ones i think are likely to be into getting a bit sticky 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: cumplay, nsfw obviously

arkham

absolutely the top candidate for this but maybe not even in a sexual way?

like he just instinctively wipes stains down his shirt, wipes his face and hands on it

so once he's finished eating you out or sucking you off whatever is left dribbling on his chin is getting smeared down his front

he wears the stains like a badge of honour, a symbol of his acheivements

he has his degrees and less-than-clean funds to show his intellectual prowess, he has his vest covered in your cum to display his other talents

dano

any and all bodily fluids please he doesn't care how they get on him but he's happy to be covered in them

blood, sweat, spit, tears, cum

he'll happily have them all smeared across his chest or his thighs

you could sit on his face and wipe yourself over his mask when you're done too if you want

as long as it's somewhere he can reach to dip his fingers into and get a taste of whatver you've left behind on him

twojar

feel like this guy is a huge fan of having you grind yourself on his thigh

like he'll make you hump out your orgasm yourself before he'll even consider touching you

and you better make sure that you leave a sticky little mess all over his pants

he better be able to feel it soaking through the fabric onto his skin, warm and wet

and he loves having you ride him and letting you spill yourself all over his abdomen

he just likes knowing you're completely satisfied, with physical evidence to prove it

zero year

he's maybe a bit hesitant to admit how much he likes being covered in your arousal

but if he was pressed, tortured to confess the truth, he'd have to confess to how much he loves being covered in you

trails, slick and glistening, all down his chest or his cheeks

smelling like you, tasting like you, long after the deed has been done

he likes to pretend he's in control and the dominant one, but tell him to get on his knees and let you smear yourself on him and he's there in a heartbeat

unburied

listen if it's not messy and sticky and the two of you aren't covered in cum and sweat and whatever else, then what was even the point?

feel free to wipe your fingers on him after you've been playing with yourself, as long as he can do the same

he's a bit of a showoff too, so however much of yourself you manage to wipe off on his shirt or pants or skin even

there's every chance he'll let those stains dry and keep wearing them even when people point them out

young justice

he'll literally do whatever you want him to do

you want to use his shirt? his tie? his face? to wipe yourself off with?

he's there, ready to clean up, at your service, dillgent and enthusiastic

i mean yeah he can be a cumrag, but he can be a little recepticle too, happy to lap up any spills

his purpose is to serve you and treat you like royalty, that's what he gets off on

#I had no idea what to title this lmao #finnie writes #riddler x reader #riddler x you #riddler headcanon #ridler scenario #arkham riddler #young justice riddler #dano riddler #zero year riddler #batman unburied riddler #bu riddler #twojar riddler #riddler #the riddler

113 notes · View notes

asakiooi · 1 year

Note

Hey idk if you take writing requests so if not. dont read this and have a nice day :)

But however if you do-

I been dieing for a reader x josiah from overtime. I was wanting somthing on the more wholesome side. As a simp I played that game solely for him and ended up hitting the wall running to fast to his desk. So I'm asking for something like that where the reader is like ya know always happy to see him. Maybe even buys him monsters often, watches him play his game and quietly cheers for him. Ya know like a little wife who just wants him happy. (And obviously that he kills ofc)

(And unless you keep it gender neutral, can the reader be a short fem? I'm 5'1 and would tremble under his look lmao)

and take ya time if ya make it and get good rest :)

Overtime Headcanons | Josiah X Short GN! Reader

M sorry op, once again I have fumbled with my ask box but yes here you go bc I love all of you overtime lovers <3

In the form of Hcs unfortunately, I just pulled a whole fic earlier and I needa break. Also I’m writing this as pre extension demo, where Josiah works as an IT alongside you (mc).

Josiah is always delighted to see you whenever you turn from the corner straight to his desk. Sometimes you clumsily run too fast and hit the walls that surround his desk, which leads you to double down in pain once you smack your entire body into it. He always makes sure to crouch besides you and rub your back, making fun of you while doing it but also making sure you’re okay.

He always pulls a chair out for you to sit next him whenever you have time. It’ll be much more comfortable than his, most likely snagged from your manager. He makes sure it has extendable options for height.

When you sit with him, he always leaves options open on what to do without ever saying them. He waits for your lead.

Sometimes you talk, mundane things like that. Or maybe deeper conversations that make you both think. If you were feeling bold, talks about romantic stuff like dates would make him feel flustered. Not in a bad way of course, he truly wants to do a lot with you.

Maybe you’ve gone out together once or twice before becoming an item, but this is different.

If you choose to watch him play games, he happily agrees. He’ll boot up his computer and start up CS:GO while you sit patiently.

When he starts matching, he’ll give you a lil glance and smile.

You watch intensely, looking at everything he’s doing.

He’s really good, you notice. Probably the best in the game honestly.

Every kill he gets, you mutter a “Ooh! Nice!” Which boosts his ego, especially if it was a tricky kill. You might even throw a few more words in to show how much you really pay attention and it makes him smile a little.

When he gets killed though, your quick to comfort him or come to his defense.

If you feel spiteful, you’re going to be quick with calling it an unfair kill. They camped? SMH, they should have been a good sport and played fairly (biased because if Josiah camped you wouldn’t bat an eye).

If Josiah doesn’t make a comment after his character gets killed you’ll fill in the silence.

If you feel chill, you’re quick to comfort him in a softer way. Not in a “You’ll get it next time” way, you already know he’ll go after his killer the moment he respawns.

“Cmon! You got this! He’s at that corner right there!” If you turn into his callout partner, he’ll be immensely happy. Usually he gets distracted when other people disturb him but when it comes to you and your voice, it becomes a guide for him.

He reacts fast regardless, but appreciates your efforts. Every time you tell him there’s a person at the window, near the courtyard, etc, he downs them immediately. Even if you don’t finish your sentences he’ll give you a high five for the teamwork.

He’ll also pat you on the head since your head is most likely chest level for him. How well you both did will show when he’s done ruffling up your hair.

Side thought that might be ooc, but I dare you to poke him when he’s gaming. He might think it’s an accident at first but when you keep doing it he knows it’s to throw him off. His sides are the weakest.

When you poke his waist it does a C curve and you laugh at that. If he dies he will most certainly poke you back in the same spot or any other known sensitive spots tenfold. Don’t mention this to him, but you know entirely that he’s pouting.

If you keep adjusting the chair in order to avoid him while he’s trying to poke you, he’ll set the chair down with both of his hands at the handles to keep you in place. This is your chance to poke him again but at both sides. Or this could be your chance to rizz him up and seduce him out from poking you everywhere.

Good luck soldier, just letting you know that he won’t stop until you’re crying and begging for mercy, which you’ll most likely do if there are other people around. (A/n: help I just realized this sounds suggestive, I assure you it’s all fun and games 😭)

Monsters are his go to. Always. How his digestives aren’t failing is a story for another day.

You always make sure to buy monsters whenever you have time in the morning. There’s almost always a quick trip to the mart just to get them everyday. When you round up the corner with a monster and smile, Josiah always makes sure to return the sentiment as soon as he can.

You’ll get a monster for his morning schedule, afternoon schedule, so on and so forth. Maybe you’ll even take a sip from his can to celebrate whenever he wins a game.

Now for general, many of your co-workers have to look from the side or tip toe and peek over the walls just to see if you’re there. Josiah on the other hand will make crude paper airplanes and send them over your walls. If you ignore his first initial airplane, he’ll make another one and aim for the center just so it can hit you. If you ignore that one as well, he’ll keep making them and wait until you finally come over to him and talk to him. (He will especially do this if you’re mad at him).

When you go to the archives to retrieve something, he always has to accompany you. Even with a ladder, you can’t reach most sections. Josiah, in his petty ways, would use his powers to hide or get rid of the ladder just so you can ask him for help. “Whom, moi?” He would innocently ask.

When you get confused on something during work, you can always ask him. He’s an expert after all.

He’ll explain to you what you need to know with total patience. With his chin resting on your head of course. His body will completely envelop yours while he’s explaining btw.

Show any visible awkwardness and it’s over. (Endless teasing and just to egg you into to saying something to him, he will get even closer).

Remember that Josiah is not a man of organized words. Teasing is his love language but, yeah. That’s all he’s confident in.

When he’s slightly annoyed with you (or jealous) he will stand over you, casting a long shadow and blocking your path. His face is definitely menacing. However you can just laugh with love at his attempt and he’ll laugh with you too, not taking anything he did before seriously.

Sometimes when you work overtime in the dark, he’s either your personal protector or personal devil. Just rest assured that he will never go home without you.

There isn’t a lot to go on about his actual person, but just letting you all know that I write him slightly influenced from Benrey from half life.

Sorry if this seemed short or not what you expected, I hope this will make up for not replying to this sooner !!

200 notes · View notes

targcrazies · 8 months

Text

Moonless, Dark Night. Pt. 1

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC!Strong (half Targaryen) Words: 3.2k+ Warnings: Violence and Graphic Descriptions, Emotional Distress, Mature (ish) themes, Mentions of Self-Harm and Su*cide, Adult Language, Incest.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

NOTE: I have written parts of this story before. However, I faced difficulty with linear storytelling. So, I'm trying something different. It will be shorter than I had originally planned, but better, perhaps. Hope you enjoy this. Let me know of any criticism you may or may not have, and I will surely appreciate knowing if you enjoy it. My Master's degree starts in less than a month, so I'd love to be done with this before that, lmao.

Have fun reading and thanks if you are!!

"Drip, drop, drip, drop.

Sansa listened carefully to ensure that no one had been following her. Her limbs trembled beneath her cape, her fingers frantic in the gloves. She knew well that her hair posed no threat, for it was not the silver of her husband’s. Yet, she had picked up the habit from her cousins, who shielded their silver manes whenever they desired concealment. In her eighteen years, she had never felt more like a Targaryen than she did then.

Drip, drip, drop, drip, drip, drop.

Part of her was relieved that only the droplets of water made the noises. She knew that Aemond kept her under relative scrutiny, especially since she refused him intimacy following the death of Lucerys Velaryon. “If you won’t let me near you, one of my white knights shall be here at all times.” However, he had forgotten her skills with crushed herbs and sedatives. Criston Cole had fallen gently to the ground beneath him. He was curled into a peaceful slumber, his chest heaved against the white that shielded him.

Verasys, her dragon, was kind. He was not impulsive, hot-blooded, or rash. He fed on what was given to him and only blew fire only on command. The beautiful dragon, with scales as violet as Sansa's eyes, breathed heavily in sleep when Sansa found him. Her lip trembled as she took out the keys to his steel chains. When she was done unlocking the beast, quite large for his age of only fifty-nine, she cooed him awake. He put his beak-like mouth under her chin, nuzzling gently.

“Verasys, my dear, you have to leave me behind,” she muttered in High Valyrian, tears making their way down her face like sweat. The dragon roared gently, but she shushed him. “If you stay back, they will make us commit the most heinous of crimes. They will make us kill our kin, our blood.” The dragon breathed out in anger through his nose, turning his face away, refusing to look at her. She walked to the other side, holding his face to hers. “You were born from the same clutch of eggs Syrax had sprouted from. Do you really want to fight your own sister, my dear?”

The dragon groaned in exasperation as Sansa began to weep. She used to rarely weep. “They killed my nephew,” she cried, uttering the word in relation to Lucerys- for what could have been well recognized- for the first time since the boy was born. She and Rhaenyra had made insinuations; her older half-brother, Harwin, would beam in glee whenever she played with Jace, looked after Luke, and tried to lull Joffrey to sleep.

She remembered the one time Jace addressed the abominable rumors of their bastardy to his mother, “I am a Targaryen through and through, like Sansa. Sansa also has black hair; no one calls her a bastard!” Rhaenyra laughed as she realized the concept of illegitimacy was lost on her young sons. She had explained eloquently that the black hair of the brothers was due to their grandmother, Rhaenys, whose mother was a Baratheon. “Sansa,” she gently pulled the girl closer to her, gripping her shoulders, “Has the black hair of the Strongs. She, just like the three of you, did not inherit the silver hair of the Targaryens from her mother.” Sansa’s heart leaped with joy. Many refused to acknowledge her mother’s Targaryen status due to her being a mere accident, something Prince Baelon regretted until his passing. Her grandmother, Viserra Targaryen, had intoxicated the Prince and done her deed when prancing around naked in his bedchamber did not work. Soon enough, she gave birth to their bastard, a pale-haired little girl she affectionately named Visenya as she passed. Visenya grew up in court, her older half-brothers being her only company.

When little Visenya turned seventeen, Widower Lyonel Strong joined the Red Keep with his sons. The man was fifteen years her senior, yet she was besotted by him. On her eighteenth birthday, she threw herself at her brother, the King’s feet, begging him to allow their union. Lord Strong, despite much hesitation, acquiesced, and the two were wed in a homely ceremony. Sansa was born after a stillborn, in 110 AD, a day after the birth of her husband, Aemond. It is said that Lady Strong had held onto her belly with one hand and supported the then Queen with the other as her Grace screamed and cried during her third labor. The moment the little boy’s cries were heard and he was laid onto his mother’s bosom, Lady Strong’s water gave way, and Sansa was born after a long, strenuous labor herself.

Lyonel was overjoyed, to say the least. His dear wife had named the child Sansa, a true name taken from the First Men. The King’s joy, however, was only second to his Hand’s. He held both the children in his arms. “They have the same eyes; it is uncanny,” he mused. “Aemond and Sansa. Must we betroth them, Lyonel?”

“If you insist, your Grace.” If it were some other time, Lyonel would have argued the futility of the said betrothal, how it built no new connections and produced no allies. However, at that moment, he was overcome with joy.

“They will make me kill my dearest Jace and my loveliest Joff, too, if we do not part. One day, perhaps, you will find your way to me again. Only when this has been dealt with. Until then, Verasys, you must be away. Fly, my boy, fly away.”

Verasys was not only her dragon; he also belonged to her mother. Her mother had passed shortly after the burning of Harrenhal, her frail health unable to bear the loss of her stepson, who was a dear friend, and her husband. Verasys was also one of the few belongings of her mother that had found their way to her.

She walked backward from the dragon. “Leave, my boy, fly away. This is your chance. Aegon has lost Riverlands entirely. What will follow next is the dance of the dragons. I want no part in it, and neither do you.”

The dragon looked at Sansa, his eyes glossing over her form. She shushed him again as he walked toward her, his mouth against her cheek. Verasys wiped away her tears, backed away from her, and gently flapped his wings. He was so gentle, so quiet, so sweet. Sansa knew that there would never be a dragon so calm, so very docile. Verasys isn’t one for war anyway, she told herself as she broke the chains with the dragonbone dagger that she received as a present on her wedding day from Aemond, despite knowing that Verasys could be resourceful upon need, could decimate anyone who could pose a threat to him or his Sansa. His protectiveness of even Aemond drew short, fluttered fires from Vhagar. It was Sansa who was not built for war.

THE NEXT MORNING was torturous. Aemond’s voice blasted through the entire Red Keep, his anger having scared away even the faultless birds. She stayed rooted in her chair, refusing to respond to his outburst. She refused to dignify his anger, she had done it enough before and had tired of it then.

“WHERE IS VERASYS? WHERE IS MY WIFE’S DRAGON? WHAT KIND OF TREACHERY IS THIS?” He refused to believe that the dragon left on his own accord, convinced that someone wilfully let him escape. “Why ask me? I am heartbroken by Verasys’s absence. How am I to know where he’s gone without me?” She spoke whenever inquired about the dragon’s absence. The Dowager Queen’s eyes shone like steel as she stared Sansa down. “Sansa, my sweet child, you mustn’t do anything that may put us at grave risk.”

“Your Grace, I do not know what you mean. Rather, I believe that what happened was for the best. Verasys wasn’t one for war. He’d have forfeited the moment Syrax would have flown near him. It is for the best, your Grace, that he left on his own accord.”

Aemond waited for his mother to depart before locking the gate of the chamber from the inside. “I do not know where your loyalties lie, my dear.”

“You accuse me of treason, my dear husband. That is unseemly and harsh of you.” Sansa trained her eyes on his, refusing to yield for fear of showing some weakness.

“I shan’t use that word, for what I assume to be treason is what you might consider loyalty.” He said, “I know of your regular consumption, Sansa. Or, I knew, I suppose.”

She knew what he meant, “I have never made a point for it to be discreet, dear husband. I am not giving birth to a child until this war has been dealt with.”

“War,” he spat, “This isn’t war; this is a defense against treason.” He sat down, facing her, knowing that another debate would ensue.

Her lips lifted in what he often called a “bitter smile.” Her anger and her sardonicism reflected in her gaze at once. “What’s defense and what’s treason here varies on perspective.”

“Aegon is the first-born son of my Father, your own uncle; he is the rightful heir.”

“The boy Uncle never once even mentioned as his heir? I won’t argue with you on who the rightful heir is. I just want you to remember that no “faction” is truly in the right here. None.” She hated herself for the partial lie she told, but she had to stay safe. Rhaenyra was her rightful Queen; she will always be. Her nephews, acknowledged by Laenor Velaryon, are her trueborn sons and her rightful successors. Her heart broke at the memory of Lucerys, at the thought of his beautiful face eaten in half.

“Why must you speak like a…” he lowered his voice and leaned closer to her face, “…a traitor?”

“You accuse me of treason again, my husband.”

“I only note the precarious implication of your rebuttals. This is no game, Sansa; this is-”

“Oh, yes, this is war. What do I, a woman, know of war? What an irony, given it is a woman you all are fighting against!”

Aemond sat back, his lips sealed tight. “I never said that dirty thing; you know it was Cole who said so.”

“And you associate yourself so closely with him, disregarding the harmful notions he poses.” She posited, “Being a freethinker, as you claim to be–”

“Oh dear wife, I believe we both can agree that you and I do not see eye to eye on something this grave. Yet, we choose to stay together, love each other. He is only a servant, as his duty is to serve.” His hand on the table had closed in a tight fist, “Let’s not argue the futility of unmatched opinions when you and I have plenty.” He mentioned 'love' in hopes of seeing her eyes soften, in hopes of irking something in her heart that once held his gaze in utmost adoration. The warmth had gone, the love was nowhere. When he looked into her eyes, he only felt cold, so unloved that it scared him.

“We do not.” Sansa was gritting her teeth by then, “You had once told me that were you to become King, you would want your eldest child to inherit the throne, be it a girl or a boy. That is a belief that could threaten Aegon and his lackeys against your support toward the throne, against me. We were never as shortsighted as our family here.”

“Sansa, my dear, do you not realize that Rhaenyra is not one of us?”

“She was never meant to be the enemy,” Sansa spoke quietly, almost under her breath, her hand covering her mouth coyly, “This is pure conspiracy succeeding over conciliation.”

There was a time, Aemond thought, when debates would lead them to bed and they’d make love. Things had changed. Lucerys’s death had left her incapacitated to feel any love toward him, even though he had emphatically repeated– like a prayer– that he never meant to kill him.

Every time he recalled having, tearfully and apologetically, informed her of the accident at the Rook's Nest; his body broke down to his knees.

“It matters little what you intended. What does matter here is what you have caused. Husband, you have waged war against Rhaenyra, against Uncle Daemon. May the Seven protect us all.” She spoke through venomous, angry tears, spitting all over him, “Uncle will never forgive this.” She had shaken her head with untenable vigour, walking away from him in pure dread, “And why should he? Would YOU have forgiven this? We deserve to burn. Poor Luke, oh poor, poor Luke. My dear ne- my Luke!”

When Aemond stepped closer to her, despite her backing away, wringing his hands, “I did not kill any of his children; they’re untouched, unharmed.” Her laughter echoed as a shriek, “You know him so little, it is dangerous to not know the man you have waged war against. You foolish, foolish man.”

He tried to hold her, fall to her feet, cry his apologies if that could calm her. She refused to even touch him, almost throwing herself out the window to evade him. He had a feeling, an instinctual irk, that she would deal with the news worse than anybody at the Red Keep. The Dowager Queen and the Hand chastised him for having murdered kin; Aegon had little to say but how conflicts such as these- almost always and without fail- produced corpses, and Helaena had blamed Aemond for procuring the most ominous out of thin air. Sansa, however, was ardently, hopelessly, fiercely grieving.

She, unlike her husband, remembered their days during childhood as happier times. Joffrey was too little and Helaena was always consumed in her own interests. The five of them used to play, practice sword-fighting, and have lessons together. After Rhaenyra left for Dragonstone, Sansa visited them on dragonback, every once in a while. She attended tourneys and had been beside Rhaenyra in all her birthings, except for the one where she had lost her little girl, her little Visenya. Sansa had grieved the death of a child not even half alive, crying and praying for the wellbeing of the soul in silence. Luke was so real; he was fourteen, a boy with his own likes and dislikes, his own quirks.

Before he knew it, she had begun to yell out the window, “Verasys, Verasys, come to me, Verasys. Take me away from this warmongering, foolish beast!” Aemond could have ripped his heart open, and it would have hurt less.

“Sansa, my love, what are you doing-” he could hear the dragon flapping his wings hard against the air; the dragon had broken the chains off himself to fly to Sansa, to respond to her cries.

“If you step any closer, I will JUMP from here, I will.” The Dowager Queen and the Hand were banging on their gate, pleading Aemond and Sansa to let them in. “I want to see none of you. I want to apologize to Rhaenyra, if my DEATH shall appease her, I will let her have it. Don’t you dare come closer, for I WILL JUMP!” Aemond did not dare stop her when she mounted the dragon and took off, barely secured in her place. The thought of her jumping to her death at his touch made his skin crawl, he found himself within he could hurt himself so bad that she'd love him again.

She returned two days later, having calmed down significantly. She handed them a treaty Rhaenyra had sent with her. They had the following demands:

Aemond the Kinslayer shall be excommunicated to Essos. Whether his wife, Lady Sansa Strong, decides to stay at the Red Keep or leave with him is up to her.

Ser Otto Hightower, Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, Prince Aegon, and Princess Helaena, alongside Lord Jaehaerys, Lord Maelor, and Lady Jaehaera, shall depart for Oldtown within a fortnight.

The Red Keep, the Crown of Iron and Rubies of Aegon the Conqueror, and Blackfyre should all be returned to the rightful Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.

Refusing any of these claims, the scroll dictated, would lead to war. Aegon laughed, instructing that the scroll be thrown in the hearth.

The Dowager Queen had turned red upon reading the clauses, the Hand looked betrayed. “Have they reduced you to a raven?” Aegon asked, staring at his sisters-in-law, his cousin, in sheer disbelief.

“I did what I could for a mother who has lost her son. This is the least I could do. I have not agreed to these clauses, I only brought the scroll here.”

“Were you aware of the content of the scroll?” The Hand enquired, his voice and face both frightfully calm and cold.

“No, I was not. I was merely requested to hand this scroll to the Hand of the King.” Her eyes were transfixed straight ahead, staring nowhere, yet focused.

“How did you spend the last two days on Dragonstone?” Aemond was sitting on one of the steps to the Iron Throne, closer to the ground. Aegon now sat on the throne, Sansa grimaced at the thought of it alone. Aemond, on the other hand, had worried himself to death, having been advised against flying to Dragonstone himself, especially after word arrived right away that she was alright and needed time to sort out the demise of Lucerys Velaryon. That his arrival at Dragonstone will be equivalent to his waging direct warfare. Thus, when he finally spoke, his question sounded more like concern than an interrogation, so unlike the rest.

“We grieved, your Grace.” Her lilac eyes stared dead into his, her face contorting, ever so slightly, in disgust. Anyone who doesn’t know her well would not even notice. He was not one of them, unfortunately. He could have wept; he almost did. He felt like he had lost her forever. However much love, respect, and admiration she once had for him was gone.

It had been a week since, and she had somehow regained normalcy. While she was still cold, biting, uninviting; she was calmer, considerate even. She allowed no intimacy– something he hadn’t let his mother and grandsire know– because if it weren’t for the origin of her birth and her status as his wife, she’d have long been beheaded as a traitor. Her dragon having left did little to acquit her to his family. It was odd that she barely attempted to clear herself of any suspicion. It was almost as if she took the special treatment for granted. He’d have to remind himself every time he felt angry at her indifference that she was only half a Strong. Her grandparents were children of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, and she was just as much a Targaryen as he was, if only not for her hair. The futility of such comparison was jarring, for she looked like a Targaryen through and through. She and Rhaenys Targaryen were similar in that sense; both fiery dragonriders with hair as dark as a cloudy, moonless night and eyes startlingly lilac.

He snapped himself out of his derailed trail of thoughts to find his wife by the window, watering the plant that she had brought back with her from Dragonstone. “Will you never admit, out loud, that I accidentally killed your nephew?”

She did not pause, did not look back, “You will not entrap me in your web of deceits, husband.” She could have scratched his other eye out, to avenge her nephew, but she chose not to. Oftentimes, those days, she’d have the urge to tell him that he was a petty, shallow half-man for never having gotten over the loss of an eye. People get through so much worse. But, she stopped herself. Every single time.

#game of thrones #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x cousin!reader #aemond targaryen x strong!reader #aemond x reader

68 notes · View notes

leggerefiore · 10 months

Note

submas and larry when a s/o mentions they feel neglected due to their work? 👀

probably done this before for ingo and emmet but what's wrong with doing it again lmao

cw: light angst and comfort

▲Ingo▼

● His schedule could vary and be all-consuming. Ingo could have to wake up in the middle of the night to head in for an early morning shift or, worse yet, be on a shift for well over twelve hours. His love for his job was unyielding, and it was a busy time in the station… But, the loneliness could really come up when you feel like you barely see your sweet man or catch him right before he heads off to bed, utterly exhausted from his shift.

● It, well, it made you feel almost ignored by Ingo. He certainly made sure to try to call you when he had time or at least greet you and remind you that he loved you when he was home, but there was rarely any quality time-shared between you both. Ingo was obvious trying his best, but you could not shake your heavy feelings of loneliness. Even hugging the plush him you had bought as a joke did not relieve the feelings.

● Finally, you broke when he popped in late at night after having left around eight. Heavy bags were under his eyes. You walked up to him and stared at him. Ingo tilted his head as he shrugged off his coat and took off his shoes. “… Ingo… I've been feeling…” you hesitated. He was so busy. It was selfish to demand his attention, was it not? He gazed at you sweetly, however. Despite the obvious tiredness, he nodded along. “I'm… I'm feeling like I never see you… I want my hubby back,” you felt embarrassed saying it out loud. Ingo stiffened at your words.

● Suddenly, he brought you into a tight hug as he took admittedly heavy breaths. His thoughts raced. Had he made you feel lonely? Oh, Ingo hated feeling lonely. He took a breath in. “Oh, dearest, I am terribly sorry,” he moved to look you in the eyes, his own watering, “I know my schedule has been consumed by work as of late… But, I promise I'll try to get time off to spend with you.” His hand softly rested over your own. You hugged him back.

● In the end, he did manage to get a day off and spent it at your side, making sure all your worries and bad feelings were wiped away. Ingo knows he has a bad habit of throwing his whole existence into work, so this was another wake-up call for him. Unfortunately, this will likely not be the last one needed for him.

▽Emmet△

○ A few Depot Agents had suddenly left around the same time and left some gaping holes in the twins' scheduling practises. This is what led to Emmet having long days and nights out of the blue until they could get new employees and have them properly trained. Emmet obviously had his frustrations about this, but still found himself throwing his whole self into work. He would come home exhausted and give you a quick hug before slugging off to bed to sleep away his tiredness from work. You felt lonely after becoming used to the cuddliness of Emmet.

○ Having got used to the long evening or nightly cuddles from Emmet and spending a lot of time just physically near each other. The twin tried to call you whenever he got a break at work or give you some small physical affection when he got home if you were still up. Emmet tried to care for you to the best of his abilities, but he was too far spread out to truly do anything. Even all his Joltiks he asked to keep you company failed to be sufficient when all you wanted was him.

○ You felt completely upset one evening and found yourself crying and talking to a Joltik. The door opening and Emmet walking in had not even registered to you as you lamented to the poor bug type like it could help you. “I just miss Emmy…” you whined, “I'm lonely… I feel like I'm the last thing on his mind… I just want to cuddle and listen to him talk about his battles again.” The twin stood shocked at your words. He felt mortified. You most certainly were not!

○ Emmet rushed into the living room to tackle you into a hug, eyes big and mouth in a rare frown. His mind surged with panic and terror. The twin hated being lonely and could not handle the idea that he had left you with such feelings. “Darling,” his voice was a desperate sound, “I love you verrrry much! You are always on my mind!” He stared deeply into your eyes as he desperately tried to keep his hands on you in some way. “I will take a day off,” he nodded to himself with his usual smile returning. “Yup! I will. I will have time with my darling.” You felt more at ease from his words.

○ It was not long that you woke up to your sleepy Emmet still unconscious next to you yet holding you in a tight embrace. True to his word, he gave all his time to you on the day off. There was no escaping his cuddling. Emmet feels bad about having made you feel like that, truly. He struggles with his work scheduling eating up his time sometimes and is usually better managed. He assures you, as soon as they get the employees trained, you will have your beloved Emmy all to yourself.

💼Larry🏢

🍙 While he might have said his boss was restricting his amount of overtime, it seemed that truly mattered little. He was constantly dragged between what office duties and his duties as a gym leader, and it was rare to catch a glimpse of the everyman during his waking hours at home. When he did pop in, he was downright exhausted and just needing time to unwind from the stress of endless paperwork and battles. It was difficult to bring up your feelings of loneliness to Larry, as you knew he had little control there.

🍙 Still, your feelings could only grow worse and worse as Larry's work hours continued to consume nearly all of his time, besides what he spent sleeping. He greeted you when he came in and usually gave a quick hug, but it was more than apparent he was about to crash after getting in his last meal of the day. You felt bad, but you missed your time spent lazing around with Larry. Even just chatting with him about his day was something you missed dearly. It was still difficult to bring up with him. He obviously didn't intend for you to feel that way.

🍙 Finally, you broke down when Larry came in around the middle of the night after you had stayed up waiting for him. He looked as tired as you, but you stood across from him as he slipped off his shoes. You felt your heart swell painfully. “… Are you going to be working like this tomorrow, too?” you asked. He nodded. Swallowing dryly, you turned away from him. “I feel like we never see each other any more… I feel like we're barely dating,” you managed to get out. Larry's briefcase hit the ground as he froze.

🍙 He felt stunned. While he never really gave much thought about working the long hours he did, it seemed he failed to consider your feelings. His mind rushed with his error. Softly, his hand grasped yours as he considered his next words. “… I'll see what I can do to get some time off,” he replied with his usual cadence, “I'm sorry that I have made you feel that way. I just… Forgot that I have more in my life now than just work.” He looked away from you in embarrassment. You felt strangely at ease despite his awkwardness. Bringing him in for a hug, you smiled at him sweetly.

🍙 It was amazing that he managed to get time off, truly. Geeta was stunned when Larry had requested it but agreed. Which meant you got your lazy day with Larry. It was just as relaxing as you expected, and he was surprisingly affectionate. Of course, Larry proceeded to ask for his schedule to be better modified for your needs, too. Which meant no more overtime. Again.

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #larry x reader #pokemon x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #larry/reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon larry x reader

129 notes · View notes

historia-vitae-magistras · 5 months

Note

Mandatory Latina ask: do Matt feel American as in part of one of the Americas? Part of the New World? Mexico and Cuba would try and explain they are all American and Alfred feels The New World™ on a Manifest Destiny kind of philosophy but do Matt feels some kindship with his friend Cuba and Caribbean commonwealth brothers and Latinos and former or current French colonies nations?

This is a fascinating question because it's a D.) all of the above. Question if this was multiple choice.

I think, in the year of our lord 2023, he would probably call himself a North American and think of himself as a part of the New World, but usually, that definition for Canadians silently includes some of the South Pacific, so that doesn't make a whole lot of goddamn sense either. North Americans in a different way than the Americans but not as much the Pan-American sense of America. And that's very new. There's a small spurt of French Canadians considering themselves Latin Americans in the early 19th century with our revolt against the British and nationalism that corresponded with some participation of individuals in the wars of independence and other conflicts in South America. Matt had a moment before anglophone domination took over that he might have seen a future in that sort of Pan-American definition of American, but it was done by the 1830s.

After that, it was the British Empire. He defines himself by participating in that imperial system, not the French and not a sense of being North American until after WW1. And even then, it took until NAFTA in the early 90s for an actual large-scale cultural flow with the mainland. Cuba and the Caribbean are a little different because the trade relationship was there. Halifax was the main port for centuries, but it's still... it's an odd relationship. Suppose I look at the British Empire in Africa. In that case, it's easy to see how that would work because the Canadians played a small but very bluntly colonialist role in multiple conflicts. With the Caribbean, there's some exchange of people and trade. However, it's from an early enough date that Canada is still kind of too shitty and underdeveloped to have an oppressive relationship from the very get-go. Still, there is a lot of fuckery in there. I will say I think it's a bit easier than it might otherwise be as Black Canadians were politically organized in the late 19th and early 20th century, and that, amongst other forces, largely blunted our own want for a mini-empire in our sphere the way NZ and Australia did with island ports in their own neighbourhood. There's an alternate universe where Canada fought the Falklands War. So I think Matt gets along with them, but I'm not sure there's a sense of kinship so much as comradery in an 'oh fuck what'd the limeys/yanks/frogs/Spaniards/Portuguese do this time.'

Born a francophone, he has... it's a weird relationship he's got with the rest of the Francophonie. I don't think he feels a sense of kinship at all. Friendly, sure, increasingly interested in them, yes. But French Canadians, particularly the Quebecois, are pretty proud and tend to think of themselves as entirely different from France or Belgium. And despite what the Quebecois nationalists would say in the 1970s, we really cannot compare our history with, say, Algeria's or Vietnam's. And Matt is really aware of that. He was way more privileged under Arthur than practically anyone was under Francois.

He's not unique by any means. There's been middling anti-social sorts in every empire since the Akkadians, but he's just kinda everywhere and nowhere. He and Cuba have definitely had a relationship. Like, I don't believe it, but there's a reason there's a conspiracy that Justin Trudeau is Fidel Castro's son and not Pierre's lmao. If nothing else, Cucan has had some good sex. I think he gets along with Maria (my friend's Mexico) really well too. It doesn't help that he's not the most extroverted type either. He's such a weirdo I'm so sorry to whoever has to interact with him or us as a country lmao.

#the ask box || probis pateo #matthew || my country is winter #meatsack mechanics || the sociology and biology of nations

25 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 11 months

Note

I'm surprised this request hasn't been asked yet lmao

Could I ask for a romantic alphabet for Raphael from TMNT 2012?

Sure! Here's a warning, it's been months since I've written TMNT. I will be pulling from my older concept to guide me with how I write Raph along with some tweaks. Trying a different format out, not sure how much I like it. This has violence and heavily dark themes.

Note: Written late at night because, hey, motivation comes at odd times? I skimmed it when I proofread so I hope there isn't any fic breaking grammar issues, lol? Here's your violent yandere, everyone. Eat up.

Yandere! 2012! Raphael Concept

Yandere Alphabet

Yandere Alphabet - 2012! Raphael

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Violence, Sadism, Obsession, Forced relationship, Toxic themes, Jealousy, Anger issues, Blood mention, Gore, Murder, Kidnapping, Dehumanizing behavior, Fear of abandonment, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, I love him but I make him such a MONSTER for horror, Isolation, Brutal punishments for Darling mentioned.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Ohhh, Raphael is the embodiment of an intense yandere. He's violent, easily jealous, and temperamental.

You are the mutant's weakness and his love is often harsh and violent if something doesn't go his way.

He is one of the more sadistic yanderes. He often uses violence to solve any sort of jealousy. Be it aiming to maim or kill, Raph does not pull punches.

Towards his darling he can be vulnerable, simply wanting to be held. For the most part he's affectionate... until you get on his bad side.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Messy. Raphael knows a ninja shouldn't kill... however- when it comes to you morals tend to change.

Raphael doesn't mind being covered in blood if it's for you.

He doesn't mind digging his sai's into someone's eyes for looking at you. He doesn't mind breaking all their bones just to hear that satisfying crack. He wants those who threaten your relationship to know what they've done. A lesson, if you will.

Then they can either bleed out in an alley or be killed by his hands...

They'll be cold, bloodied, and dead either way.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Yeah, actually. But that's only if he feels you've been rejecting his attempts at a relationship.

Raphael may mock you if you've gotten on his nerves before he kidnapped you. Normally he won't, but sometimes he just can't resist.

In terms of how you're treated is something along the lines of his;

Raphael will lock you up somewhere he knows the others won't find you. He gives you a mattress he found and hides you deep in another part of the sewers. No one can find you there, be them human or mutant hopefully

Only Raphael knows this place.

He'll feed and care for you, sometimes treating you like a pet. He fears abandonment ever since the Spike/Slash incident and treats you like a second Spike.

With the chains around your limbs and the casual threats he happens to mention... you'll be obedient.

Other than that, if you're compliant, he'll try to be very loving.

He tries not to but if he gets too driven by his anger then he most likely will.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He doesn't like showing himself as vulnerable. He wants to show himself as strong... always training... always fighting.

There's blood on his hands now.

He is quite vulnerable around you, however.

It's shown when he curls around you or holds you in his lap. You can tell by his soft murmurs and tight grip he relies on you to ease his issues.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Well... safe to say he doesn't mind putting you in your place?

Unless he's punishing you he won't hurt you too much. He'll just show you he can overpower you.

It's a subtle threat.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Not a game even if he gains sadistic pleasure from his obsession at times. He'll play around a bit if you managed to escape somehow.

He wants to see how far you get.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

With a yandere as volatile with him it could be a number of things.

- Seeing him murder.

- His punishments.

- Him snapping.

Anything that showcases his volatile nature will be horrible for you to witness due to his violence and sadism

He hasn't thought of it. Perhaps dating... or keeping you as a pet. Honestly any future where you're kept by his side is one he likes.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Yes. Incredibly jealous. He will lash out, too. He's temperamental, like a ticking time bomb prepared to cause carnage when he sees someone else with you.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He acts awkward at times when he first begins his obsession. He's a bit teasing and acts like a friend. When he's with you in your little "relationship" (prison) he's very vulnerable.

He'll cling and vent to you, almost crushing you with his size when he leans on you. He can be... very emotionally weak when he isn't burning with rage.

You almost feel bad.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He's surprisingly nervous and tries to avoid the crush he has at first. But soon he accepts it and tries to grow closer with you. He's content with just being best friends for a little while...

Yet now he's asking for dating advice from Casey of all people and he struggles to approach you with the topic.

That is until something sets him off and causes him to act fast on his festering obsession deep within.

Yes. He's eager to fight, his brothers know this. But ever since his obsession... murder seems to be all that's on his mind now.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Oh... brutal.

Part of him hates this, part of him enjoys it.

Isolation is good and all, but sometimes he doesn't feel it's enough.

Raphael would break your bones if you really pissed him off. If not, he'll make your skin bleed and that's it. When you bruise... and he feels the message has been sent... he patches you up.

He'll make you good as new... although the lesson stays behind in your head to not go against him or his delusions.

Most of them. He likes to show some sort of power over you. It makes him strangely... excited? He can't quite put it into words.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He's always on the fence. It's like the slightest thing can set him off if he's annoyed. Although... he tries to be as patient as he can with you.

He does love you, after all.

It would take a real long time. He could move on... or he could not. I'm not sure if he could, personally.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

If he does it's a quiet thought in the back of his mind. He could let you go but that's rare. Isolating you is an easy way to stop his stirring jealousy AND it keeps you safe.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Troubled past, anger issues, trauma? Anything along the lines of that.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He isn't the best with this but he does try to comfort. He may be a violent turtle but the mutant isn't entirely heartless.

He'll hold you close, even with a little force, then try to comfort you.

He's lucid enough to know he may be the cause of your pain... but he ignores that fact as it threatens his delusions.

Raphael can hurt his darling even though he "loves" them.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Raphael is a volatile yandere. You could theoretically use his temper against him somehow.

Then there's the classic method of gaining his trust by going along with his obsession until you're allowed to have freedom again.

Who knows when that'll happen?

Yes, unfortunately.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He isn't entirely a worship yandere. To a certain extent he'll cling to you like he'll break it he loses you. He'd go to extreme lengths to keep you, including a rampage of violence and gore.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He can pine for awhile. It starts getting bad when he starts losing people he cares about. That's when things truly go downhill for you.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes, definitely, absolutely.

#yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere tmnt #yandere 2012 tmnt #yandere raphael #yandere tmnt 2012 raphael

98 notes · View notes