27| She/Her | This blog may contain romantic, angst, violent & mature themes. Read responsibly
🖤 AU & canon-divergent fanfiction
💜 Mainly possessed by Sons of Anarchy, The Walking Dead & Vikings
🖤 Occasionally haunted by The Vampire Diaries/The Originals & Harry Potter
🖤 One shots, imagines, series & original works
💜 Angst, romance, tension, comfort & morally grey men
🖤 Requests are always welcome, some obsessions just take longer to possess me.
...Trust me, there’s more haunting this blog soon.
Hey, it’s me. I am romantically haunted… literally. 🖤
Masterlist
Wattpad
Welcome to this little dungeon of fanfiction, original stories & imagines.
At the moment I mainly write for Sons of Anarchy, Vikings & The Walking Dead, though characters from The Vampire Diaries/The Originals & Harry Potter occasionally crawl into my head too.
Expect AU’s, canon divergence, dark romance, tension, comfort, angst, chaos, tenderness and characters that will probably ruin your life a little.
Requests are open, but remember: some obsessions just take longer to possess me.
Come haunt this place with me.💜
This blog may contain mature themes & occasional explicit content. Read responsibly. 🖤
Imagine Ivar losing his mind while you ride him… (NSFW!)
Candlelight danced against the wooden walls while thick furs meant to keep the cold away lay scattered across the floor beneath you, as your moans filled the room. Ivar his masculine hands, the same hand that had led battles and spilled blood, locked around your hips possessively. His jaw tightened, fingertips digging into your skin while his gaze gave away exactly how dangerous he thought you were. The worst part? He looked like he loved it. Every roll of your hips dragged another strained breath from him while you met him with soft moans grazing over your lips. His blue eyes locked onto you like he couldn’t decide whether to worship or ruin you for making him feel this weak.
The usual control in his expression was cracking apart piece by piece beneath you. You could see it in the way his chest rose heavier now, in the frustration flickering behind his stare every time your hips rolled slowly against him instead of giving him what he wanted. “You enjoy this way too much, don’t you” the sound of his voice made you realise how much power you had over him, while he was completely losing his mind with his cock buried inside of you. Half a smirk jerking on the corner of your lips, you loved the effect you had on him. You could feel the battle inside him with every uneven breath that left his lips. Ivar was a man built from control, from strategy, from never letting anyone see weakness. Yet here you were above him, slowly pulling him apart with every movement of your hips.
The clubhouse had already gone quiet by the time the both of you sneaked into one of the private rooms. You sat on the edge of the bed while his tattooed arms hooked beneath your thighs, rough hands pushing your hips deeper into the mattress. Your elbows pressed into the sheets to steady yourself while your gaze stayed locked onto his dark stare. His movements between your thighs dragged soft moans from your lips, your breathing growing more uneven each time he felt you tremble beneath him. Happy barely made a sound aside from a few low groans rumbling in his chest, but the look in his eyes every time another shaky breath escaped you said enough already.
Your calves rested on his shoulders, heels pressing against his back while your legs tensed around him from the pleasure building low in your stomach. The way his tongue worked against your slickness felt almost desperate, like he had been craving you for decades. Your fingers tightened into the sheets as if they were the only thing keeping you grounded while your hips instinctively chased the rough drag of his lips. Your back arched softly, another shaky breath escaping you while Happy kept you exactly where he wanted you. A quiet groan rumbled in his chest until his dark gaze found yours again. “Could stay between these thighs all damn night.” A soft moan slipped from your lips at his words, your fingers tightening deeper into the sheets. “Better keep that promise then.” Your thighs instinctively tightened around his shoulders, heels pressing firmer against his back as if pulling him impossibly closer.
A/N Found a way to watch Ready or Not 2: Here I Come… and unfortunately I have now fallen in love with Titus Danforth 🖤
Yes, I am completely unhinged. No, I will not be seeking help anytime soon.
Also decided to write this short imagine because I desperately needed to know what it would feel like writing him... and honestly? I fear this may become a problem.
You sat on his lap while his fingers lazily played with the rings decorating your hand, his arm brushing against the black velvet fabric of your dress. Titus wore that same sly and satisfied smirk everyone feared except you. You had grown to love that look on him. Power looked dangerous in the hands of most people. You thought it didn't on Titus. No, on him it looked intoxicating. After taking a slow sip of the dark Whiskey from the crystal glass resting between your fingers, you traced the dried blood splattered across his hand. Your gaze lifted back toward him, meeting his gaze as you return that same satisfied smirk, though yours carried something softer beneath it. Something only meant for him to see, proud but at the same time seductive. “If I ever pull that hide and seek card…” You paused your voice carrying a dangerous kind of precision, but also something soft “Would you be the one to kill me?”. You knew Titus wouldn’t hesitate to kill for power if he had to. You have seen it yourself. Blood on marble floors as bodies would get dragged out of the council rooms. Even his own family fell beneath his hands without mercy when betrayal demanded it.
Though you saw something else beneath that dark flicker in his eyes, it was hesitation. his fingers stopped moving against your hand entirely while his stare fixed on you for a little too long. Like he was trying to imagine it, trying to picture his hands around your throat while air disappears from your lungs slowly while his hands would be stained with your blood instead. Though he felt something primal and possessive instead. It even pained him and was that guilt fluttering his stomach? It was safe to say he failed miserably while trying to imagine killing you. Then a bitter laugh escaped softly beneath his breath, as if he had been holding it, before he leaned back slightly against the chair. “See that is the problem with you” Titus muttered, voice quiet though all amusement behind it was gone and made place for slight frustration. “Problem” You chuckled the right corner of your lip moving upward as you on the other hand actually were amused by his reaction. “I think i’d burn this entire council to the ground before I ever let them touch you”. His hand suddenly tightened around yours, possessively, gaze darkening as the realization settled heavily between the both of you. He could kill anybody else, but never you..
A Forgotten Memory | Damon Salvatore x reader | one shot |Songfic. (angst)
A/N: I got inspired by the song Waterworks (Ivory Black remix) and decided to weave its lyrics into this angsty piece. The songlyrics I used are in purple.
Warnings: Angst. No happy ending… well, depending on how you look at it. Enjoy 🖤
Prefer to read on Wattpad? Click here
I had spent over a century pretending I understood control. Not even understood it… no, I had convinced myself I mastered it. That was until you showed up in my life. It was raining, wet clothes sticking to our skin. Soaked hair clinging to your face when you had kissed me like you had planned to ruin every little bit of control I had built upon over the years. My lips were chasing yours desperately as your breathing slipped between every kiss I pressed onto your lips once I took over dominance. My fingertips dug into your hips claimingly as I long for your taste. While it all felt like we got no time to waste. That kiss should’ve been the warning. Instead, it became the beginning of everything. Because after that you consume what's left of my soul.
Every time I had an excuse to be around you, I started using it to where it became obsessive. Of course I would use this excuse out loud making it sound like I needed to convince you while in reality I was convincing myself I deserved to be around you. You became a dream that I chase, in my sleep and awake. Our desperate kisses would become my fuel. Your attention would become my fixation. Somehow your presence started feeling necessary. I kept searching for you in crowded rooms before I even realized I was doing it. Every touch left me wanting another one like a man starved. You became the first thing on my mind every evening and the last thing haunting me before sunrise. I started memorizing the sound of your laughter like it was something I’d die without. Now I fear that I've lost all control. I stopped wondering if this would destroy me and started wondering how I’d survive if you ever left.
I called it Waterworks. When your tears were running down your skin so pale. To no avail. The first time I saw those tears, something snapped inside of me. The hurt and betrayal in your eyes after I snapped your best friend’s neck. I didn’t know. All I saw was a jerk hurting your feelings and I just got emotional. It is how I work, how I always had been and the devastating look into your gaze, tears rolling down your cheek, realizing the love you still held underneath… I am the monster and love didn’t save it, it made me terrify the monster I could become. Your tears should’ve made you hate me. Instead they only made me realize how badly I wanted forgiveness I didn’t deserve.
After that night, every rational thought I had told me to leave you alone after that night. To compel you to forget about me and the monster lurking beneath my skin. To disappear into the night, before I would ruin you completely. Though, loving you became another selfish trait of mine and the love you returned for me became an anchor. I clung to you like I was expecting you to lift this curse and put me under your spell, it binds. What made it worse is that you would always look at me like there was still something human buried beneath the blood staining my hands. And how I wanted to believe you… Maybe that was the cruellest part about loving you, the way you would see the good in me everytime i proved you wrong.
I wanted to break the cycle where I kept failing you and hurting you. It was about the fifth time I had snapped in front of you again when I left Mystic Falls for a while. Three days later I was standing outside your bedroom window again like some pathetic ghost unable to move on. Every time I tried to say goodbye after the first, I failed miserably the second you looked at me. So we're entwined. I kept pretending distance would save you from me while secretly counting the hours until I saw you again. And as I feel you inside my bones. I felt you everywhere after that. In every room and every sleepless night. Every violent impulse I tried to bury. In the glass of whiskey I used to numb my emotions. I can never let you go.
It happened repeatedly, me being away and watching those Waterworks, tears running down your skin so pale. To no avail. When I would watch you from the shadows I lurked in to watch over you from a distance. It hurts to see you like that. Hating myself for doing this to you each time before running back to you. Each time I would run back into your arms to get a taste of your love it felt like you would lift this curse and put me under your spell, it binds. Every time you forgave me, it became harder to remember why I ever tried leaving in the first place. Maybe that was the cruelest part of us. I knew loving me was destroying you and still I kept crawling back for more. So we're entwined. But you became my weakness in the most selfish way possible and I kept breaking your heart just to hear you say you love me afterward.
It all led to this moment, I couldn't let it go on any longer and sometimes loving someone means letting them go. Your tearfilled eyes held my stare while your fingers wrapped desperately around my wrist. If I was still human, your grip probably would’ve bruised me. “Please.. Damon” your Whispers in the water, your voice is sirens' call “Please don’t, i don’t want to do this without you” I'm drowning in your shadow, lost within it all your broken pleas echoed inside my head like punishment. It wasn’t that I wanted to do this. God, if anything, every selfish part of me wanted to keep you exactly where you were. Loving me. Choosing me. Forgiving me. But you deserved more than a man who kept feeding the monster inside himself with your love.
My irises locked onto yours instantly. Piercing. Unmoving. The world around us slowly faded into nothing until all I could see was you. Your trembling lips. The tears caught on your lashes. The fear slowly settled into your expression once you realized what I was about to do. “Damon… please…” Your voice cracked my chest open. Waterworks, tears running down your skin so pale. To no avail. I swallowed hard before my hands slowly cupped your face, forcing myself to stay steady while your breathing shook against my skin. “Look at me.” My voice came out softer than I intended. More broken. Your watery eyes stayed trapped on mine while compulsion slowly slipped between us like poison disguised as comfort. I could already see the haze forming in your stare. Your body is relaxing despite the tears still running down your cheeks.
“You’ll forget me,” I whispered carefully, even while every part of me begged to take the words back. “You’ll forget everything we’ve been through. Every kiss. Every touch. Every moment you ever loved me.” My voice remained certain. Calm. But my heart was tearing itself apart inside my chest. “And you’ll move on,” I forced out painfully. “You’ll live the life I could never give you.” For a second your expression flickered, almost like some part of you was still fighting me. Still holding onto us. Then your gaze slowly emptied. And just like that… I lost you before you had even walked away. As I would wish for you to lift this curse and put me under your spell, it binds. So we're entwined.
Imagine sitting in Happy's lap while he cleans his gun…
The heat still lingered long after noon, warming the wooden porch beneath your bare legs. Two half filled glasses of Jack Daniels rested on the weathered patio table beside an overflowing ashtray. Happy sat back in the old outdoor chair with you comfortably settled in his lap, one tattooed arm lazily wrapped around your waist while both his hands worked on unloading his gun and removing the magazine right after. A black cloth resting over your knee ready to be used and the oil already waiting to be used on the table. Your gaze follows his every movement as if he was doing something fairly interesting. Your fingertips traced the back of his rough hand mindlessly before you would slightly turn your head to face him. “Teach me?” Your voice was soft, but the excitement was unmistakable. Just like the corner of his lips creeping upwards at your question. He gave a nod, just one… but it was enough for you to return your gaze to his hands.
A small smile tugged at your lips while you shifted slightly against his lap, your attention following every movement of his tattooed hands. The smell of gun oil slowly mixed with whiskey and cigarette smoke. “First, clean the barrel” His voice stayed low and calm while he grabbed the black cloth resting across your knee. You just nodded his fingers brushing yours as he placed the black cloth into your hands. “Here” Happy suddenly grabbed your hand, placing the cloth between your fingers before guiding your hand toward the barrel. “Slow” His chest pressed warmly against your back while he guided your movements carefully. Patiently and focused. Your hand moved slowly beneath his guidance, carefully cleaning the inside of the barrel while Happy watched every movement closely. “Never thought this would become one of my hobbies” you muttered quietly underneath your breath. Happy gave a low hum, finally reaching for his whiskey glass with his free hand. “Sittin’ on my lap while cleanin’ guns?” A soft laugh escaped your lips. “Exactly that”
Imagine Jax realizing you’re the only peaceful thing left in his life…
The clubhouse had finally gone quiet hours ago. Bottles left scattered across the tables, cigarette smoke still lingering in the air and old rock music humming softly through the speakers. The tension from earlier still clung to Jax like gasoline soaked into leather. Another argument. Another problem. Another night where his head felt too loud to exist in silence. The front door creaked softly when Jax stepped into the house, tired blue eyes instantly finding you curled up on the couch beneath one of his flannels. Half asleep. The television still flickering quietly across your face. He stood there for a moment longer than necessary, staring at you as if his body finally remembered how to breathe properly.
The whiskey glass in his hand remained untouched as he slowly sat down beside you, rough fingers brushing carefully through your messy hair. He sat there, enjoying your warmth as you crawled into him. Too sleepy to say anything. A yawn escaping your lips as your eyes fluttered shut, knowing he at least got home safe. Jax just sat there, fingers tangled through your hair. He watched your chest rise and fall in that peaceful and dreamy rhythm. Just watching you being this peaceful actually grounded him and it made him realize something… “Christ…” He muttered underneath his breath, exhaustion heavy in his voice. “You make all this shit quiet for a minute.”
Where He Softens | Chibs Telford x reader | one shot
A/N
I felt like writing something domestic and romantic today, maybe even fluffy and comforting. Just dancing around the kitchen with one of your favorite bikers🖤
It was late at night. Everything had already gone silent, a streetlight flickered through a small gap in the curtains. The entire neighborhood was probably asleep by now, peaceful in a way Charming itself never truly was. Somewhere out there engines still roared and deals were still being made, but inside the house there was only the low hum of old rock music drifting through the living room. You lay curled up on the couch beneath a soft blanket. The fabric brushed against your bare legs while the faint scent of cigarette smoke and old whiskey still lingered in the room from earlier that evening. You weren’t asleep. Just waiting for your old man to come home.
The front door finally opened with a quiet creak. You didn’t move immediately, though the corner of your mouth twitched softly the moment you heard heavy boots crossing the wooden floor. Chibs always tried to be quieter when he thought you were sleeping, despite the fact a man built like him could never truly move silently. You cracked an eye open just enough to see him. Leather kutte. Exhaustion weighing down his broad shoulders. There was dried blood across one of his knuckles and the familiar scent of cigarettes, cold night air and gunpowder followed him inside the house. His tired eyes landed on you almost instantly. “There’s my girl…” His Scottish accent came out rougher than usual, exhaustion dragging through every word. His gaze was tired, though beneath that tiredness there was still adrenaline lingering in his stare. The kind that told you his mind was still stuck somewhere back at the clubhouse.
A soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you slowly sat up at the sight of your old man wandering into the living room. “Long night, dear?” Your voice soft, your tiredness of the long wait lingered in your voice like a whisper. “Aye.” He exhaled quietly, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Club shit.” the way he exhaled, even the way his fingers traced the outlines of his facial hair told you exactly what kind of night it had been. You could almost guess how much he had been smoking this evening when the stench of cigarettes and iron filled your nostrils even though he wasn’t even close yet. As you quietly waited for your old man to finally fill up that empty spot on the couch with you.
Your eyes followed him toward the kitchen while he grabbed the whiskey bottle from the cabinet, though halfway through pouring himself a glass he stopped. His gaze shifted toward the radio instead. Toward the old rock song humming softly through the house. Then back toward you. A slow grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “C’mere.” You laughed quietly underneath your breath. “Chibs, I'm comfortable”. “Woman,” he pointed toward you with the whiskey glass. “Get yer ass over here”. You didn’t have to think twice, you were touch starved for him all day anyway. You got up, the blanket hitting the ground beneath you as you made your way to your old man.
His arms sneaked around your waist, as his rough hands found your lower back. Caressing hands sliding up your back, the fabric of your shirt almost non-existent beneath his touch. The old rock music softly humming around the both of you. Your hands deliberately found his chest, the leather of his Kutte brushed your fingertips, a soft smile appearing on your lips at the familiar feeling. His body finally seemed to loosen bit by bit beneath your touch, the tension slowly draining from his broad shoulders. They clearly had been carrying too much today, you could feel it in the way he exhaled against the top of your head. It was heavy, tired. Almost like he had been holding his breath for hours.
The kitchen light cast golden shadows across the room while the music continued softly around you both. Chibs pulled you closer without hesitation, slowly swaying with you in the middle of the kitchen as if the outside world suddenly didn’t exist anymore. Your cheek rested against his chest while his rough fingertips traced lazy circles against your lower back. “You smell like cigarettes,” you mumbled. A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest above your head. “And bad decisions,” you added softly as the faint scent of iron reached your nose. “Aye,” he muttered slowly. “That too.” You could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It was slow and steady, just like the rhythm of both your feet shuffling beneath you. The kind of rhythm that made your entire body slowly melt into him without even realizing it.
Your fingertips slowly slipped from his chest toward his hand, carefully intertwining your fingers with his much larger ones. The dried blood across his knuckles already darkened, cracked between his rough skin. Your feet follow into his as he slowly leads you through the kitchen. Moments like this, definitely were your favorite ones. The love for him crawling beneath your skin, goosebumps giving away exactly what you were feeling for him. Your thumb brushed over the bruising gently, almost absentmindedly. Chibs noticed instantly. Of course he did. His gaze dropped toward your hands before a quiet breath escaped him. “Sweetheart…” He muttered slowly. “M’fine”. “I know” You spoke softly, though your fingertips still traced over his knuckles anyway. “Doesn’t mean I can’t care”. For a moment he just looked at you, the look in his eyes was enough of an answer.
The song on the radio crackled softly through old speakers while your bodies kept swaying together across the kitchen floor. The whiskey glass still rested forgotten on the counter behind him, abandoned the second he had pulled you into his arms instead. Outside, somewhere far down the street, a motorcycle roared briefly before silence swallowed the sound again. You rolled your eyes softly underneath your breath while his hand slowly traveled higher along your spine, fingertips disappearing into your hair for a moment. The touch made your eyes close briefly. Comforting. Familiar. Home.
Chibs lowered his head slightly, lips brushing against your hairline while he kept swaying with you to the music. No tension. No chaos. No SAMCRO bullshit. Just him. Just this. His grip tightened slightly against your waist before he spoke again, voice quieter now. Softer. “Best part o’ my day is comin’ home tae ye, lass.” Your eyes closed completely at those words, arms slipping further around him underneath the leather of his kutte. Outside, Charming was still turning beneath violence, engines and bloodshed. But here in the kitchen, wrapped up in Chibs Telford’s arms while old rock music hummed softly through the house, the world finally felt still for once.
After a while of heavenly slow dancing and just enjoying his warmth and touch, one of his masculine hands found your cheek, cupping your jaw. His lips found yours slowly, almost like he needed to savor the moment. The familiar taste of whiskey and cigarettes lingered on your lips as you caught on with his slow and yearning rhythm. The sound Chibs made against your lips while his thumb caressed your jaw, made your knees weak. The kiss wasn’t hungry, it was something more than that. Something you can’t simply put into words. It was a kiss that would carry an entire day of missing each other. A kiss that made him forget everything he had to do on behalf of the club. The slow sway between your bodies never fully stopped, feet still catching on to the rhythm of the music. Neither of you rushed to let the other go, simply swaying together beneath the dim kitchen light.
Imagine Elijah loses control because someone hurt you...
You would be lying if you said it wasn’t terrifying. Elijah Mikaelson was always composed. Always calm. Yet now he stood there almost breathless, blood dripping from his knuckles onto the wooden floor beneath him. Crimson splattered across the white blouse underneath his dark suit jacket, staining the fabric like spilled wine. The room had gone silent. Even his siblings looked at him carefully when Elijah lost control. But the moment his dark eyes landed on the bruises around your wrist, something dangerous flickered behind them. You stood there, eyes wide. Too baffled to give any real reaction, no crying or trying to stop him.
You would also be lying if the entire rampage wasn’t somehow hot and flattering. Your gaze finally met his, noticing how he softened for you almost instantly. The tension flowing out of his body the moment he looked at you, as if your presence alone grounded him again. You couldn’t help but give him that soft and thankful smile you always reserved just for him. “Are you alright, Love?” Elijah asked softly, his polite and perfectly controlled voice making your stomach flutter even though it definitely shouldn’t. Especially not after witnessing something like this. Yet somehow that contrast only made it worse. The blood on his hands, the violence still lingering in the room, paired with the gentle way he was looking at you now. As if hurting you had been the only truly unforgivable thing in that entire situation.
Warning!: Gore, rotting walkers and forced proximity with Daryl Dixon 😏
Your eyes widen, survival kicking into the both of you as you see hundreds of the undead shuffling toward you. You even saw a leggless torso crawling with something that looks like eaten arms and a missing lower jaw. The scent of rotten flesh and death filling your nostrils, but by now it was something normal to you. Your gaze scanned the area, to see if there was a way out. Unfortunately by the looks of it, both you and Daryl were about to be surrounded. But before you even could react yourself, your vision blackened as your nostrils filled with the scent of leather, rain, moss and even more rotten flesh above all.
Daryl had dragged you to the ground, gathered the impaled bodies surrounding you and buried the both of you beneath them as he was lying on top of you. Your eyes met his blue gaze as his fingers reached to your lips as if saying 'sssh', though it felt more like a gesture to ground you. You could feel blood dripping onto your cheek as his weight was shielding you instinctively. Both trying to keep your breathing as low as possible, hoping the stench of death surrounding your bodies were enough for the horde to pass you. At one point a walker stumbled over the pile above you both, rotted flesh brushing against Daryl’s shoulder while his body instinctively pressed harder against yours to keep you still. The next few hours were agonisingly slow and you could feel Daryl’s heartbeat against your chest the entire time.
Imagine Chibs finally getting you alone after hours of you drunkenly teasing him at the clubhouse… (NSFW!)
The door slammed shut behind your heated and tangled bodies. Clothes scattered across the hall and the floor leading to the couch as you didn’t even make it upstairs to your shared bedroom. His fingers digging into your skin, palms claiming your hips as his lips were bruising yours in a hungry kiss, as your fingers tangled into the hair at the back of his neck. “Ye’ve been drivin’ me insane all damn night, Lass…” Chibs growled against your lips, Scottish accent rough and low enough to send heat straight through your stomach. Your legs wrapping around his naked waist as a reaction to his delicious accent. “You love it.” You whispered teasingly, breath hitching the moment his warm tip teased your slick entrance.
“Aye…” Chibs admitted with a dark smirk as he trailed down sloppy kisses from your jaw to your collarbone, his teeth softly grazing that exact spot he knew always drove you crazy for him. “Just fuck me already or did i put in all that work for nothing?” You chuckled, a seductive and hoarse sound layered in your voice. “Careful what ye ask for, sweetheart…” Chibs muttered lowly before his hand slid up your thigh, gripping it firmly enough to pull another breathless sound from your lips. Though he didn’t dare to let you tell him twice. He plunged deep inside of you without a fair warning, hitting you with those long and deep delicious strokes that always made you completely fall apart beneath him. The room is filled with that familiar scent of sex and alcohol along with the sounds of your pleasure.
It was late at night when you heard the kitchen door slam shut with a heavy thud. The first thing you noticed were the splatters of blood across your kitchen floor, dripping from the hands of the imposing man in front of you. “Again?... Happy” You asked the older man, concern slipping into your voice. He only grunted in response, his dark gaze piercing your E/C eyes. There was always something captivating about the way he looked at you? something primal lingering behind those dark eyes of his. And even while he stood there with his knuckles split open, you knew exactly what your old man was thinking.
You knew better than to ask permission to patch him up. The first aid kit and rubbing alcohol were already in your hands. You knew you simply had to do it before he could come up with an excuse why help was unnecessary. Before he could say anything you had already pushed him down into a kitchen chair and your hand had a firm grip around his wrist as you were cleaning his wounds with gauze and alcohol thoroughly. Even though Happy his posture remained stoic, not even flinching once, you still noticed the smug smirk at the corners of his lips.
When it came to patching your old man up, you always became a little rough on him. And oh, he secretly loved those little moments where you took control. It showed him you were not scared by him, that you could handle him just right. You knew how hard it was on him to not completely take over control again, especially when all the dirty things he would do to you slipped through your mind. His piercing gaze saw right through the look on your face and in your eyes “You’re thinkin’ too loud again” His voice low, almost a grumble. Dangerous and addictive. “As long as it is about you, right Love?” Your voice turned playful. You felt caught… but enjoyed it.
You were wrapping the bandages around his hand to keep dirt from coming into his wounded knuckles, when his free hand suddenly found your neck. His thumb slowly grazed the vein at your throat, feeling your heartbeat speeding up beneath his touch. You already were dangerously lost into his touch, your eyes hungry after waiting for him to come home all day. He pulled you closer, his bandaged hand finding its way to your hip and possessively locked around you. The familiar scent of oil, cigarettes, aftershave and leather filled your nostrils completely, clouding your mind.
His lips crashed onto yours and you immediately knew things were about to get rough just by the way his lips hungrily chased yours. His tongue moving against yours possessively stealing every breath away from your lungs, until giving in to him became effortless. “Mine” His voice dangerously low, possessively claiming you. Your core heated every single time he did that to you, a soft whimper escaping your lips in response. His rough and dominant kiss showed you how much he needed it, it showed you how rough his day had been.
No words were needed, his bruised and bandaged hand had already pushed your bottoms down. Rough, quick he turned you around before bending you over the kitchen table. His hands in a hurry to pull his own jeans down just enough for his already hard and veiny cock to spring free. His movements were rushed now, though he still took a moment to admire your ass and the slickness dripping between your thighs. The cold metal of the gun that had been tucked into the back of his jeans, brushed against your thigh when he pulled it free and carelessly tossed it across the kitchen table.
His hand quickly finds his way back to your neck, fingers locking possessively around it. His veiny cock pressed at your entrance, barely keeping himself from slamming into you. Instead, he teased your dripping slickness slowly, waiting for you to beg for him first. And as he already had you right where he wanted you, a needy whimper escaped your lips at the teasing. “Please, Love” Your voice trembled in desperation, you really needed him inside of you. You didn’t have to beg for him twice, his hips slammed against your ass filling you completely with his delicious length. His veiny cock dragged your drenched walls perfectly, making your breath catch in your throat instantly.
“Please, Love” You begged again, even more desperation slipping into your voice when his hips stayed still for far too long to your liking. “Careful. Be a good girl for me” He warned, but your desperate pleas clearly amused him and he decided to reward you anyway. His hips finally started moving into you at an agonizingly slow pace, his entire length grazing your walls just right. Even though it felt incredible, the slow torture was nearly driving you insane.
When he finally picked up the slow pace. The kitchen slowly filled with the sound of your moans while deep groans left Happy’s lips every now and then, mixed with the soft sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your walls were clenching around him as you could feel yourself getting closer. Your moans grow louder when his thrusts become sloppier, more rough, hitting your sweet spot over and over. You throw your head back, eyes rolling back in pleasure while Happy his uneven thrust gave away he was getting just as close as you were.
“Cum for me” His voice a low growl and the words alone were enough to throw you right over the edge. Your walls clenched tightly around him one last time as your orgasm ripped through you. “Fuck, Happy…” Your moan came out almost like a cry, breathing uneven and heavy while your trembling legs barely kept you upright after the rough pace he had set. The feeling of your walls pulsing tightly around him was enough to finally drag Happy over the edge with you. A deep groan rumbled through his chest as his hips jerked roughly into you a few final times before he came hard inside you, his grip around your body tightening possessively.
He slipped out as you whined at the sudden emptiness. Falling back into the chair, pulling you onto his lap, arms sneaking around you. It was still possessive, but also showed this rare affection he only stored for you. Your head rested against his shoulder as you both came down from your orgasms. “Rough day, Love” You chuckled, satisfied even. “Hmm, not anymore” he growled into your hair.
He slipped out of you as you whined softly at the sudden emptiness. Falling back into the kitchen chair, he immediately pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping securely around you. It was still possessive, but beneath it lingered that rare kind of affection he only ever seemed to show you.
Your head rested against his shoulder while the both of you slowly came down from your orgasms together. “Rough day, love?” you chuckled softly, sounding far too satisfied with yourself. “Hmm… not anymore.” His low growl against your hair sent another shiver down your spine instantly.
You didn’t really need much to get him there, let's be honest to him you are already that last piece of candy in the jar like 24/7. As of now, you were just casually sitting in his lap on the clubhouse couch. You were minding your own business, talking to Chibs even, when you suddenly felt the growing bulge beneath you. It gave you an idea, you’d bent over to grab a snack from the table for example, grinding unnecessarily harshly on his lap while you did that as you took a little longer than you normally would to get yourself that snack. It made him grab your waist and push you back into him, his actions already showing you what you did to him. “You need to stop doin’ that, sweetheart” he whispered in your ear as you could feel his breath graze your earlobe.
You shoved one of the nuts in your hand into his mouth to shut him up. You turned around, with that same teasing move grinding him again “don’t act like you mind any of this” You whispered back into his ear. A low groan rumbled in chest, his fingertips curling into your waist, you could feel he was about to grind you down on him himself. The playful smirk on your lips slowly turned dangerous. “Christ… you tryna kill me?” He growled into your ear and you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him to be in merely 10 minutes. You slowly grinded against him one last time and that was it, he wrapped his arms around you, threw you over his shoulder and walked off to the bathroom. “Someone’s gonna learn a lesson” Tig had this playful growl in his voice you loved so much about him.
This masterlist contains fanfiction with mature themes such as angst, romance, fluff, smut, etc. Read responsibly, Minors Do Not Interact With NSFW content.
🎶 Rotersand - Silence
Sons of Anarchy
♡ Chibs Telford
☆ She Gets Jealous | Chibs Telford x reader | one shot
☆ Imagine Chibs teasing you... (mild NSFW)
☆ Imagine slow and rainy mornings with Chibs...
☆ Imagine Chibs finally getting you alone after hours of you drunkenly teasing him at the clubhouse… (NSFW!)
☆ Where He Softens | Chibs Telford x reader | one shot
♡ Happy Lowman
☆ The Quiet One | Happy Lowman x reader | one shot | Their first encounter
☆ Imagine Happy comforting you...
☆ “Rough day, Love?” | Happy Lowman x Reader | One shot (18+, NSFW)
☆ Imagine sitting in Happy's lap while he cleans his gun…
☆ Imagine Happy between your thighs… (NSFW!)
♡ Jax Teller
☆ Imagine giving Jax head in the clubhouse bathroom... (NSFW)
☆ A Dream Within A Dream | Jax Teller x Reader | Song fic. | One Shot. (Angst)
☆ Imagine Jax realizing you’re the only peaceful thing left in his life…
♡ Tig Trager
☆ Imagine making Tig go feral for you… (mild NSFW)
Vikings
♡ Ivar the Boneless
☆ The Hands That Healed Him | Ivar the Boneless x Reader | One Shot
☆ Imagine Ivar noticing someone mocking you...
☆ Imagine Ivar losing his mind while you ride him… (NSFW!)
♡ Ragnar
☆ Imagine being tied to Ragnar by the gods... (mild NSFW)
The Walking Dead
♡ Daryl Dixon
☆ From Crossbows To Skin | Daryl Dixon x Reader | short fic. (NSFW)
♧ Part 1
♧ Part 2 (NSFW)
♧ Part 3. Final part. (NSFW)
☆ Imagine having to hide from a horde with Daryl...
The Vampire Diaries/The Originals
♡ Elijah Mikaelson
☆ Imagine Elijah loses control because someone hurt you...
♡ Damon Salvatore
☆ A Forgotten Memory | Damon Salvatore x reader | one shot |Songfic. (angst)
Ready Or Not/Ready Or Not 2: Here I Come
♡ Titus Danforth
☆ Imagine Titus realising he could never kill you…
