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nais-nook · 5 years ago

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Sawyer - Pt 1

(Hey there! You may be liking/reblogging something without links to new pieces I may have written for this character, just letting you know in case you’re interested in reading more!)

Hey, I’m not dead, but uni is dragging my ass to hell and back. Anyhow, here's Sawyer, who belongs to the lovely @yandere-flower. He looks like this, and I drew a reference for his tattoos here since I don’t describe them much. I think I might make this story a little more interactive - as in you can make choices and it’ll change the outcome, but I’ll see what you all think before I try something like that!

~***~

Part 2, Part 3

Summary: Who knew helping a random stranger would lead to you being dragged into unsavoury business?

Pairing: Male x Female Reader.

Words:4458.

Warnings: Mentions of death, Swearing, Suggestive themes (because it’s Sawyer, but it’s still pretty mild).

Normally, navigating through the twists and turns of the barely lit roads was a cinch. You knew your area like the back of your hand - what buses were the best to take, which seats on those buses had the most room, which roads were off-limits lest you wanted to get mugged.

Yet today felt different. Weird.

The air felt thicker. The shadows were gloomier. The lights seemed to flicker.

Every breath you took was held a little longer than usual and every small sound made you tense up. You stuffed your hands deeper into your pockets, even pushing off your hood so you could see better. Just in case.

You turned the corner, spotting the familiar graffitied wall and almost sagged in relief. A couple of alleyways and one more corner, then you would have been in the safety of your home. You picked up the pace. Would have made it too, if you hadn’t heard the muffled groan echo from the alleyway just shy of the corner you were supposed to turn.

Just keep walking, you urged yourself, your footsteps already faltering at the sound of yet another moan. Don’t get involved in things you can’t handle.

And despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to ignore whatever it was, you turned back and called into the darkness.

“Hey!” Your grip on your phone was vice-like. “Is, uh, is anyone there?”

“Don’t worry about it, just go.”

The sudden voice startled you. It sounded masculine and croaky, like a thirsty man. Immediately you fumbled with your phone to switch on the flashlight. When it flicked to life it revealed the owner of the voice.

Lying in the filth of the alleyway was a man draped in a dark jacket. You would have been able to at least guess his age if it weren’t for the blood caking his face and clothes. A swamp of murky red. Whoever he was, you could tell he had been here for a while.

“Are you okay?” You inched closer, hands up and voice soothing as you picked your way past broken glass and cigarette butts. Kneeling in the grime you methodically checked his pulse and breathing. “Listen, I’m going to call an ambulance. You’ll be at a hospital soon, alright?”

“No. No, no, no. Don’t - don’t do that. I can’t go to a hospital.”

“What do you mean you can’t go to a hospital?” You peeled off his jacket, already surveying for anything that required your immediate attention. He hissed at your touch, then cursed loudly when you propped up against an abandoned skip.

“Listen, if I get sent to a hospital, fuck,” his grip on you was stronger than you expected for someone in such a state, “if I get sent to a hospital, I will definitely die. Trust me on that.”

“The hospital is where you go when you’re hurt, and I’m not sure if you’re completely aware of the fact that you’ve been hurt, but you have. Badly.” You applied pressure to the angry gash you found on his forehead. With your free hand you unlocked your phone, paying no mind to his protests.

You remained calm and collected. Thankfully, this sort of stuff didn’t bother you much anymore. Not like it did at the beginning of your training.

“What, you’re telling me you don’t get a little rowdy when you’re invited to an alleyway party?” He chuckled dryly, coughed, then groaned.

“I can’t say I have. I would also suggest not moving until help arrives. If you don’t you might -” you hesitated. Telling someone they might die if they didn’t listen wasn’t really something you were supposed to say.

“I might what? Die?”

“I didn’t -”

“I know that.” He closed his eyes, tilting his head up towards the sky. His hand hung off your wrist, as if it would stop you from calling the emergency services. “Please don’t call an ambulance. It’ll make more trouble than it’s worth, for both of us.”

Your fingers ached from the grip on your phone. His blood was slick between your fingertips. You knew he needed help. He wouldn’t last long without it.

With the smell of booze and sweat and trash filling your lungs, you made your decision.

***

“I should have just sent him to a hospital,” you scolded yourself as you flipped the final piece of French toast in the pan. “He could have acquired brain injury, or internal bleeding or something.”

The sizzle of the toast was your only response. You nodded, “You’re right, I am stupid. This is what I get for listening to him. What if someone has reported him as missing?”

You nudged the toast onto the already piled plate, then leaned in uncomfortably close and stared at it. The warmth of the food wafted over your face. “Can you even do that? I’m sure you have to wait a few days before you report someone as missing.”

The next few minutes of you preparing a cup of tea went the exact same way. You interrogated the kettle, tea bags, the sugar and then the milk. Unfortunately, none of them held the answers that you so desperately seeked.

After arranging the drink, plate and a couple of pieces of fruit on a tray you made your way up to the guest room housing your newest patient. You stood in front of the cream door, balancing the tray on your hip as you muttered, “I swear to god, if he’s dead, I'm going to scream.”

The knock resonated in the hall, yet there was no response.

“Hey, you awake in there?”

Nothing.

You cracked open the door, the light from the hallway spilling in, and peeked through the opening. There the man lay, in the exact same position you put him in last night. Gritting your teeth, you nudged the door open, hoping with all your heart you could just slip in and out. Your hopes were shattered when he sat up, all whilst wincing.

“Morning.” His voice still sounded a little hoarse. Better, but not quite.

“Hi,” you responded absentmindedly, paying more attention to what revealed itself as the blankets fell away.

At the very least he was clean - that you made sure of. The dull ache in your lower back served as a reminder of the effort it took to strip him to his boxers and scrub him clean. However, you weren’t really paying much attention to him last night. Not while you were so desperately trying to make sure he didn’t die. Yet here, bathing in the light from the hallway, you had to admit - he looked awful.

Handsome, but awful. With white hair and a face that made him look like a prince from a children's book. The only thing that would break the illusion of him appearing in the happily ever after of a princess being the piercings and tattoos adorning him.

That and the bruising. All over his neck and collar bone. Stretching across his stomach and side, like someone had tried to knock the wind out of him. He had scars too, though small and none were due to the state you found him in last night.

“Admiring me, are you?” The man cracked a smile. It still managed to look dazzling regardless of the purple and reds smothering his jaw and the slight swelling of his face.

“No, actually.” You pressed your lips together. “Just assessing how badly you’ve been hurt.”

“What can I say, I bruise like a peach.” He quickly ran his tongue over a canine, and you could have sworn you saw the flash of a tongue piercing. “Taste like one too, if you ever fancy giving me a try.”

“I - what?” Your face twisted in confusion as you tried to process what he had just said.

“You heard me.”

“See, I don’t know if this is how you genuinely act, or if this is you being out of it, so I’m not gonna react at all. Deal?”

“Fine by me.” He shuffled, harshly blowing air out of his nose before inclining his head towards you. “That for me?”

You suddenly remembered the tray you were holding and set it down on the drawers next to the bed. “Yeah, here you go.”

“Aw, you care.”

“No offence, but who saves someone just to starve them?”

“A sadist.” He huffed stretching ever so slowly over to the tray.

“Do I look like a sadist to you?”

His attention flicked to you for a second before focusing on the tray again. “You could be. You'd be surprised what looks can cover up.”

“If I’m a sadist you’re a masochist.”

“What makes you say that?” He winced as his fingers grazed the edge of the tray.

You swept a hand in front of you, knowing full well that he would understand you were talking about the position he was in - clearly pained and yet still stretching out.

“Okay, you got me there. Can I have the tray now?”

“You aren't allergic or lactose intolerant or anything? I didn't get to ask last night before you practically passed out on me and I forgot to even consider it when I was making you food.”

“Nah, you're good.”

You nodded, gently positioning the tray in his lap before skirting around the bed to pry open the curtain. “The light not hurting you or anything?”

“If it was hurting me, you'd know by now.” He held up the plate, his hands trembling, you noted. “Want some?”

“I’m fine, it’s for you.”

He raised a brow, tilting the plate this way and that, as he teased you. “You didn’t poison it did you? Is that why you’re refusing to take one?”

“Oh, I definitely poisoned it,” you joked, arms crossed as you leaned against the window. “A little Snow White situation.”

He gasped playfully and batted his dark lashes at you. “Will I get a kiss?”

“If you get one of your buddies to come ‘round, sure.”

He shrugged, gave you a massive grin and brought the cup of tea to his lips carefully. “I’d rather not. But anyway, thank you for the breakfast. Even if I do end up dead.”

“No worries.”

You perched on the window sill and stretched your arms above your head, the movement bringing temporary relief to your back. Your patient observed every move you made with big brown eyes.

“Name’s Sawyer by the way,” he said around a mouth full of toast, and you had to give him a withering look.

“I’m (Y/n). Please swallow your food before you speak, I don’t think performing the Heimlich manoeuvre on you with those bruises will be a good idea.”

One big gulp later he was smiling from ear to ear, something cheeky hidden behind it. “(Y/n), huh? Nice name for an even nicer face.”

“Thank you, I guess?”

“(Y/n), I have a question for you.”

“Okay?”

“I am naked.”

“...That’s - that’s not a question, you know that right?”

… Maybe he wasn’t going to walk away from this as unscathed as you originally thought.

“The question was going to be why.”

“Not sure if you noticed but you’ve been cleaned up - your clothes have been fixed and washed too, thanks to me.” You patted your bicep and gave him what you hoped was a friendly, not tired smile. Sure, you weren’t a body builder in the slightest, but you were able to lug around people much bigger than yourself, Sawyer being a prime example of that.

“I mean, yeah, that makes sense, but-”

“Besides, you aren’t even fully naked, I left your boxers… on…” Your eyes widened in horror as Sawyer set the tray aside to peek under the blankets. “Please tell me you can feel the lower half of your body.”

“I mean, it’s warm?”

“Sawyer, this is serious, tell me you can feel the lower half of your body.” You had made it to the bedpost when he slid a hand underneath the blankets and nodded, an apologetic look plastered onto his face.

“Nope, yeah, I still have feeling down there, sorry.” His demeanour changed almost instantly as he wiggled his brows at you. “Seeing as you're here now, wanna cop a feel?”

“No! Are you normally like this? Should I be concerned?”

He completely ignored your question. “You know I’m pretty surprised you didn’t take my boxers off.”

You scrubbed your face in an attempt to quell your irritation, then placed your hands on your hips and sighed. “And why would I need to do that?”

“Oh, c’mon, you weren’t even the least bit curious?”

“I’ve seen so many naked bodies, nothing is interesting anymore.”

“Wow, look at you, pulling in people,” he whistled low and smooth before giving you a wolfish grin.

“It’s because I’m a nurse, Sawyer, no other reason. Or at least I will be soon,” you sighed, slumped onto the edge of the bed.

“A nurse, huh? Fancy. I know a doctor, and a psychiatrist, but not a nurse. Makes sense though, you were super calm and collected when you found me in the alley. Probably deal with a lot of cases like this.”

“Yeah, but I don’t usually bring patients home. You done eating?”

“Yup, thanks.”

“Alrighty,” you mumbled, allowing him to snatch a tangerine from the tray before you took it off him, “how you feeling?”

“I’ve got a headache that hurts like a bitch and my body is stiffer than a hormonal boys dick.”

“Medicine it is then. I’ll be back. Don’t die.” Your glare didn't have much of an effect on him as he just leaned back and chuckled stiffly.

You dumped the tray in the kitchen, promising to get to the dishes later, then rummaged around the medicine cupboard. When you’d found the painkillers, you grabbed a glass of water and picked up Sawyer’s clothes which you’d tossed over a radiator last night.

“Ah,” you breathed in the smell of the conditioner, the warmth of the clothes pleasantly seeping into your skin, “I’m so smart.”

What you had found once you had gotten back to the guest room intrigued you. Sawyer hadn’t moved, but his attention definitely had. The pale blue sheets were crinkled under his clenched fingers, the way a mourning woman would a handkerchief. Golden flowers that were cast upon his skin by the sunlight pouring through the net curtains wavered in the breeze. The vulnerability of his expression was so raw, it astonished you. The rap of your knuckles against the door melted all of it away, and in its place was the lopsided grin you had gotten so used to in such a small amount of time.

You couldn’t complain. Joking and flirting may have made up his walls, but professional friendliness made up yours.

“Here, they’re warm,” you murmured, laying the jeans on the bed and gently draping the shirt over his shoulders.

“Shit, this smells good.” Sawyer practically melted back into the bed, draping the shirt over his face.

“It’s called conditioner,” you laughed, placing the glass of water down on the drawers.

“Hey, (Y/n), where’s my jacket at?”

“It’s downstairs, I’ll get it for you after you’re dressed.”

“Nah, nah, I don’t need the jacket, just want what’s inside the pockets,” he pulled off the shirt and crinkled his nose, looking childishly innocent, oddly enough, “that’s assuming they didn’t mug me when they dragged to the alley way to rough me up.”

Ah, so that’s what happened. “You talking about the cigarettes or your phone?”

“They didn’t rob me? What a miracle. Good thing too, I think I might need a cigarette right now.”

“Not in my damn house you ain’t.”

“Thank y- wait. Why?”

“I don’t really like the idea of getting lung cancer thanks.” You pulled out a packet of tablets and popped a few into his outstretched hand.

“Not even one?”

“You even attempt to smoke something in my house I’ll throw you out with the cigarettes, do you understand?” Your hard stare seemed to sink in this time around.

“You know,” his eyes flicked up and down your body, if only for a second, “you’re kinda hot when you get all authoritative like that.”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am.” The words were spoken slowly, paired with hooded eyes that forced you to suppress the shiver that threatened to run down your spine.

“Take these, I’m kicking you out after.”

“Wait, I thought I was only getting kicked out if I smoked?”

“You can stay until lunch, I’ll feed you, but after that you’re out.” You handed him the glass. Sawyer swallowed the painkillers with no hesitation, chugging the entire glass down in one go.

“I can’t leave.”

“Not on your own. I get that you’re hurting and all but I’m sure someone can come pick you up. A family member, maybe a friend?”

“I’m not joking,” he placed a hand on your forearm, touch gentle but deathly serious, “I can’t be seen leaving your house.”

“And why is that?” The warmth of his fingers was fleeting as you pulled away. There was a strange heaviness Sawyers solemnity brought, and you didn’t much appreciate it.

“You still haven’t figured it out yet?” He tilted his head, though his expression didn’t change in its intensity.

“Figured out what?”

A hum from him, then a smile and the weirdness in the room dissipated. Sawyer turned, slowly, fists clenched and breath shaking as he did so. And then he waited, his back on display. You couldn’t stop the knitting of your brows when you saw the bruising again - you’d seen worse, much worse, but it still felt like a punch to the gut knowing just how fragile the human body could be.

“You see it yet?”

“How damaged you are?” you asked gently.

“Nope. Look again.”

“Sawyer, I don’t -”

Suddenly everything clicked into place.

“Judging by that reaction you saw it, right?”

You folded your arms, trying to stop them from shaking. It didn’t help.

“What, you not gonna answer me?” He turned to face you again, and from the way his lips were drawn tight you could tell he was trying to control whatever he was feeling at that moment. “No offence but I thought nurses were supposed to be smart, how the hell did you miss it?”

“Okay, you know what, I was more concerned with making sure you didn’t die to admire your tattoos,” you snapped, paying little attention to Sawyer himself but what you had just seen.

Nestled right between his shoulder blades, almost completely blended into the bruises was a tattoo of a snake, its head resting on the nape of Sawyer’s neck. It was a beautiful, even tasteful tattoo; however, the implications were bad enough to send your mind spiralling.

“You okay?” Your head snapped in his direction, the sickly feeling still making its way through your body. Sawyer had pulled the covers away, one foot on the ground as if he was going to get out of bed.

“Just… stay over there. I’m still processing this.”

He nodded, made no move as you ran over everything you knew about the gangs in the area.

Kidnappings. The circulation of drugs. Theft in the dead of night. Riots over territory.

You couldn’t care less about the actions themselves, no, what really made your blood boil was the sheer number of people who ended up as collateral damage. You had personally tended to some of those people who were at the mercy of death, watched as the light faded from their eyes and their loved ones wept. It always stuck with you. Made your skin crawl when you walked past some of the wards.

How easily it could have been you.

“Vipers, right? I don’t know how many gangs are in this area, but I know they’re one of the main ones.”

“Yeah, Vipers.”

You laughed. It held no humour. “That’s why you didn’t want to go to the hospital. Scared you’d get arrested for murder or something?”

“Excuse me,” his lips twisted to the side, “I haven’t murdered anyone.”

“Then why were you avoiding the hospital?”

“The Vipers have people in different places, but we ain’t the only ones. If I wound up at a hospital, I can absolutely fucking guarantee you I would have been kidnapped, or one of the doctors would have offed me. I don’t think you realise that there are groups other than the one I’m in. Even if you don’t do anything you could still be a target.”

“Sawyer -”

“I’m not telling you to believe me, but at the very least I hope you take my thanks sincerely. I mean it. You could have ignored me and sent me on my way, but you didn’t. You even brought me to your house. Thank you.”

You ran your hands through your hair, the tension seeping away the more you looked at him. He seemed to be serious, and surprisingly that sincerity was putting you at ease. “Fine, that’s the hospital thing out the way, why can’t you leave my house?”

“It’s day,” he spoke slowly, like he was saying the most obvious thing in the world.

“Okay, so your eyes work, congratulations. What does that mean?”

“If anyone saw me leaving your house, not only would I be in for shit, you would probably end up on someone’s watch list. Whether that ends in a friendly chat, or you being wiped off the face of the earth is up to the person holding that list.”

“So, what do we do now.”

You felt tired. Oh, so tired.

“We wait until night rolls around, and then I go. Or rather, people come to pick me up because there is no way I’m leaving this bed without some serious help,” Sawyer grimaced, “I’m just glad I haven’t had to sneeze yet. I think I would die if that happened.”

“That’s assuming you aren’t already on your way to dying. I may have stitched your head up and fixed you as best as I could, but I don’t have any medical equipment like the stuff at the hospital. For all I know you could be bleeding internally as we speak.”

His face paled a tad at that. “Well, uh… Am I?”

“Not that I can tell, but like I said.”

You stood there awkwardly for a minute, not knowing where to look or put your hands. He hadn't done anything to you - hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t threatened you, he listened when you gave instructions. And you most certainly were happy to help him before you figured out, rather belatedly, that he was part of a gang. Warily, you sat down on the edge of the bed, noting how pleased Sawyer looked when you did so.

“Look, I’m sorry, I just - I don’t know how to feel about all of this.”

“I get it,” he raised his pierced brow, “but don’t go around accusing me of things either.”

You barley nodded before you lay back, closing your eyes and letting the sunlight warm your face. You enjoyed the quiet for a moment. The whisper of the blankets as you pulled your legs up and the low hum of cars outside. A peek at Sawyer let you know he was also lounging, arms behind his head and eyes closed too. The painkillers most certainly hadn’t kicked in, so you knew he must have been in immense pain, and even when they did start working, it probably wouldn’t help much. Yet he looked so peaceful there, the flowery light making his hair glow like a halo.

He looked like he belonged there.

Despite your reluctance to disturb him, you had to ask, “So, who you calling? To pick you up, I mean.”

“Oh yeah,” his eyes fluttered open, “friends.”

“Friends? Like actual friends or people from your gang friends?”

“Why can’t they be people from the gang and friends at the same time?”

You shrugged, then sucked in a quick breath when you recalled the state of his phone. “I hope you’re not planning on using your phone.”

“They stole my phone?!” He shot up in bed, the action followed by a pained shout and a few choice swear words you'd rather not hear in that order ever again.

“No, no, down,” you pushed his shoulders until he was lying flat. Sawyer just stared at your hands until you lifted them from his skin, the contact feeling a little weird and awkward, “ah, sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“You're warm,” he smiled, and it was so soft and genuine you had to take a moment to remember what you were doing.

“You know you're going to have to start actually answering my questions, Sawyer. They are kind of important for your health.”

“I'm fine. So, what happened to my phone?”

“It wasn’t stolen, it's just - you know what it might be best you didn't know.” Just remembering the way the screen was hanging onto the case by a couple of wires was enough to give you anxiety.

“Fuck me, man, phones are expensive.”

“Here.” You fished your phone out of your hoodie pocket, untangling it from the headphones, then handed it to Sawyer.

He looked vaguely bewildered as he reached out for it. “You sure?”

“Not like you can run away with it, not in that state.”

While Sawyer was pressing digits your eyes kept flicking between your hands and the one resting in his lap. The phone looked so small in his grip, despite being the perfect size for you. Sawyer caught you staring.

He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers and teasing in a singsong voice, “If you wanna hold my hand, all you have to do is ask.”

You refused politely, folding your hands in your lap as he shrugged. Somebody must have picked up on the other side because his face perked up almost immediately, and then dropped when whoever it was started yelling.

“I’m just gonna leave now,” you whispered, patting his blanket-covered leg.

“You aren't even going to stay for moral support?” He pouted, then rolled his eyes when the yelling on the phone picked up again. “No, not you, shut up for a second.”

“Whoever is on the other side sounds terrifying, and you're just about all the excitement I can take at the moment, so no thank you.”

“Fine,” he sighed, then got back to his call with a sour face, “dude, can you stop shouting at me for one second, for fucks sake.”

Even when the door clicked shut you could still hear his frustrated argument on the phone.

“I think I’ll give him ten minutes…”

#yandere-flower #sawyer #yandere flower sawyer #reader insert #Part 1 #sawyer pt 1 #gangs #???#I guess???#Guys im so bad at tagging its unreal #but hes a babe #nais nook

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nais-doodles · 4 years ago

Photo

Wip 11 and we have a messy Saywer (who is @yandere-flower‘s boy 🥰)

It’s not done of course but I’m kinda proud especially since there are no mutiply layers or anything on this, I hand picked the colours 😊

#sawyer #yandere-flower #fanart #nais doodles #wip challenge 2021 #wip 11 #wip

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thothouse · 4 years ago

Text

Daffodil - Sawyer/f!Reader

All credits for Sawyer go to @yandere-flower!!

Warnings: Rough sex, fingerfucking, choking, facefucking....lotta fucking, man

Words: 8.5k-ish of FILTH

Art Ref: Sawyer’s sick tats thanks to @nais-doodles!!!!! HIMBO WITH BODY ART!!

Links: AO3

Summary: You’re so fucking tired of being good.

Reader: fuck the cops are coming

Sawyer: Not before u babe, dw dw

On a typical Thursday night this late, you would either be:

A) In the office, finishing paperwork that was your responsibility only because you didn’t know how to say the word no,

B) At your apartment, throwing together dinner for you and your boyfriend with ingredients he never fucking seemed to have the time to get,

Or,

C) Staring just a little too hard, too long, at your reflection in the rear-view and making a game of how long you dared keep your eyes off the road.

This is not a typical Thursday.

“Fuck yeah, more shots!”

You don’t even know whose voice that was, only that their yell precipitated the arrival of someone bearing a tray of more vodka shots than you’d ever had in your life. Barring the past few hours.

You grab the shot clumsily, sloshing the liquid onto your already splattered top. You call out, “Slainte, motherfuckers!”

A chorus of loud woos follow your statement but you’re already tipping your head back to take the shot. It burns like a bitch. Heh. That’s what your boyfriend had called you, when you were throwing his shit out the window. You snarl at the memory, slamming the empty shot glass on the table. That fucking dickhead. There’s teeth in your smile as you reach for another shot, chipped pink polish flaking off your acrylic fingernails.

The girls around you are already following suit, some giggling in excitement and others too plastered to do anything more than toss the booze back, glassy eyed. God, this was unhealthy. You push the thought back.

If you can still think responsibly then you aren’t fucking drunk enough.

That’s the fucking point of this night, anyways. To exorcise that part of you, the responsible, good part. The part that wasted seven goddamned years on a man who cheated on you just because he was fucking bored.

Four years of law school. A body religiously sculpted through hours of goddamn cross fit. The ability to deepthroat without a fucking gag reflex and—and—

It still didn’t put you above an easy fuck. Like the goddamn maid.

You immediately feel guilty, sneering at how pathetic that sounded. You sounded. God, it wasn’t the housekeeper’s fault your boyfriend was a sack of shit.

Unlike what your friends had tried to tell you. You had immediately called them for an emergency drinking session after tossing the bastard out of your apartment, not so much wanting as needing a venting session.

You’d expected, you don’t know, some anger from them? Some empathy? Some righteous fucking fury at the man you’d wasted nearly a decade of your fucking life with. But no. They just told you that it was natural for men to fuck around a little. Part of being a career woman. You just had to suck it up and keep the peace.

Fuck the peace.

You don’t realize you said it aloud until the girls around you start to repeat it.

“Yea, fuck the peace!”

“Yes, babe!! Preach!”

“Screw the fucking peace!!” one calls out, so plastered it comes out slurred, causing them to giggle and press closer against the girl next to them.

You’ve never seen any of these bitches before in your life. But for tonight they were your best fucking friends.

Raising a shot that had mysteriously appeared in your hand, you grin and say viciously for the whole bar to hear, “Fuck the peace!”

It comes back to you in a chorus, and god, you’ve never felt so powerful.

You abandoned those previous friends around two bars ago. Right around when they’d all begun to look all concerned and told the waiter to cut you off, reminding you how you all had to be in the office early tomorrow. Never mind the fact you felt like someone had ripped the carpet of your life out from under your feet and tried to fucking smother you with it.

No, it wouldn’t do to look unprofessional. So you’d found the messiest women at the bar and starting buying drinks, and fuck were you glad you did. This crowd was a good one. You down the shot and pump your fist with them to the music.

The bar’s DJ appears to have a healthy understanding of what drove women to the bottle, as the playlist so far had consisted solely of breakup anthems and fuck-you songs.

“—think I’d crumble! Think I’d lay down and die!” Someone yells beside you, almost directly in your ear. You’re drunk enough that you don’t care, smiling at you join in. “Oh no, not I! I wwwiiillllll—“

It’d been ages since you’d had a night like this. Since you’d even fucking sung. Years of vocal training and classes down the drain, all cause professional women focused on their career first, their partner second, and themselves dead last. If anything, they had to cater to their boyfriend’s likes, dislikes. Smooth out their own rough edges to present at the perfect, sweet, bubbly successful girlfriend.

The song changes and you join everyone else in screaming their excitement. The DJ had apparently stopped beating around the bush with the regular Shania Twain and Clarkson and moved on to the OG breakup song.

“—showing her how to shoot a combooooo—“

Now that’s a fucking break up song. You put a foot on the barstool and belt out, loud, “Oh, and he don’t know!”

The girls around you titter and the men drawn by them woot in encouragement.

The bartender grins at you and winks. He extends a hand you eagerly take, stepping atop the bar and grabbing an empty tequila bottle to use as a microphone. Well, that bottle had definitely been full when you got there.

The upbeat song and haze of alcohol push all concerns away and you find around belting your lungs out on a dirty bar, neat mustard yellow work dress already rucked up to your swinging hips. “—carved my name into his leather seeaaats—“

You feel eyes looking at you, so many, and it’s glorious. You wink and smile at the men eyeing you from below, blowing a kiss at one in the corner whose wild grin matches yours.

“��Slashed a hole in all four tires—“

It used to be like this, you remember, when you were younger and braver and not afraid of your own damn self. You were loud. Spontaneous. Unafraid. Then law school had happened, and a steady boyfriend, and expec-fucking-tations and suddenly you weren’t allowed to be real, to just want and do things without carefully planning them all out.

The words coming out of your mouth are less sung and more snarled, vicious pointed things that you spit out to the room. The bar is alive now, with you, and you are wholly present. No more sweet in-house legal council ditz who ignored every passing micro-aggression with a smile. No biting your tongue to make your wasteful clod of a boyfriend look better. No going through each day pretending the space between your lungs and sternum wasn’t filled with a terrible, pulsing anger.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before—“

Then someone‘s hand starts to reach up your thigh.

You break off, turning to gape at the man. There’s a moment where you feel that all too familiar rush of shame, regret, impulse to step away and make yourself smaller.

Whether it’s the booze or your new found lease on life, you’ll never know. What you do know is that the bottle in your hand has a good heft to it. That it only takes one good swing to smash it against his head. And that the scattered, bloody stained bits of glasses raining down on the floor are very pretty.

The bar is quiet now, so quiet you can hear the pounding in your ears and the thick slur in your voice as you lean down and say, “Hands off the talent, you fucking prick.”

And the crowd goes wild.

Curses surround you and your entourage of girls start to scream, rushing away in panic before the storm. One of the guy’s friends grabs at your ankle and you go down, other leg buckling. You gasp as your head slams against the countertop.

Shit.

You kick out, getting someone in the face and several other someones in the side, struggling to get to your feet in the now spinning world. You manage it, cursing and launching out with the broken tequila bottle whose contents you can now feel sloshing around your rolling stomach. A hand grabs at your side, but it glances off, too disordered. The fight has become a mosh pit, everyone stampeding to get to the door as the bouncers futilely try to get closer.

And you’re still fucking laughing. You shove and kick and brandish your broken bottle against anyone that gets too close. It’s all crazy and terrible and you feel so fucking good. A sudden wave through the crowd pushes you almost to the other side end of the bar, but you don’t care. This is fun. This is real. You are—

Someone gets close enough to grab your wrist.

Whoops. Caught.

“Seriously?” you say with a pout, twisting your hand to escape. His grip just tightens, the weaponized bottle falling to the ground as your hand goes just a bit numb.

“Sorry, dollfacel, got a little close to hurting yourself there.” His eyes are sparkling. “Too pretty for that."

You stop struggling. You remember the way your boyfriend had looked when he told you that men just had needs. “Oh,” you say, batting your eyelashes, “That’s so sweet.”

He looks pleasantly surprised at your reaction, studded brow quirking up in interest. Smiling, you look the man right in the eyes and spit.

The bloody glob—huh, your tooth feels funny—trickles down his cheek and he smiles. Then leans down and smashes his lips against yours.

You instinctively bite down on the invading tongue, but instead of breaking away he just moans like you’d just grabbed his junk. Said junk that is pressed against your stomach, already hard and throbbing and somehow harder even as blood starts to fill your mouth.

The heat that runs through you is sudden and uncalled for. But his other hand makes its way under your dress and grabs roughly at the fleshy globes of your ass and all you seem to be able to do anymore is respond. There’s an odd shape on his tongue that clanks against your teeth, a metallic tinge that compounds the bloody taste of copper in a way that has you reeling. Your chest arches into his as you struggle to reach high enough to kiss him back.

No. This isn’t kissing. This is war. He helps only as much to press you back against the bar top, awkwardly propped against a stool. One of his hands presses your own above your head and onto the rough wood so hard you feel the splinters sink in. You gasp, hissing with pain and something else, but breaking contact with his mouth in that one second.

The realization of how fucking wet you suddenly are throws you for a moment, just a moment, but it’s long enough for the sound and flashing lights to break through the shock of being bent over a bar counter. The police have arrived. The bar is emptying out. And you’re totally screwed.

“Fuck,” you spit, twisting to eye the nearest escape route.

“Of course, I gotcha, doll,” comes the unasked for response from the man who’s already ignoring your weak struggle to separate. Instead he nuzzles into the bare expanse of your neck and drags his teeth in nips that are too hard to be really called love bites.

You groan, feeling a fresh pulse between your legs, treacherous and demanding. You voice is breathy and uncertain, even to you, “The cops...cops are here...I can’t—“

“Just makes it better,” His hand moves from your ass downward, talented fingers drawing beneath your sensible unlined underwear. “See?”

He starts to part your embarrassingly sopping lips and then—fuck—fuck—

You realize, with a touch of delirium, that you’re getting fingered in a shitty dive bar that is definitely surrounded by police.

And fucking loving it.

He dips in and out of you in quick, shallow thrusts, as if desperate not to remove himself completely. Or unable to form any kind of sane rhythm. Somehow it still does something for you. Panting against his neck, you wriggle aimlessly, not knowing if you want him off or closer, only that you can’t possibly be still.

At least the bar was already near empty of panicked patrons, those left not seeming to notice you, or at least, not staring too hard.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” His voice is rough but so honest that your cunt throbs, a fresh gush of slick covering his knuckles. You’re clawing at his back with your free hand, digging acrylic nails in as you throw your head back. The mouth on your neck is fully biting now, teeth gnawing and tongue licking and sucking painfully. You can’t help the sound that escapes you.

He’s pressed so close that you actually feel his cock twitch at that, the long line straining against you. He’s so tall that it’s only with the help of the barstool that he’s not fucking your thighs. The possibility is heady and without realizing you’re going to, you lift your leg higher to rock against his heavy erection.

Gasping, you can distantly feel his fingers speed up, another joining to make three. Three fingers pushing in and out of you in something that’s barely a rhythm but it’s his voice, his fucking voice, raspy and desperate between bites on your exposed neck, that you latch onto as the tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter—

“Shit…fuck, doll, you’re so fucking soaked,“ he says, voice cracking.

—and snaps, a perfect orgasm that has you throwing your head back against the bar top and clenching hard around his long fingers.

“Y-yes, yes, that’s fucking perfect—“

It seems to go on for eternity, spiraling out in a release you realize you’ve been chasing the entire fucking night. And, if his fingers don’t stop moving, another one to follow.

The bark of a megaphone outside blares and you wince, even as the complete stranger draped over you only continues to stretch you out with his hand. There’s some commotion going on, shots firing, and then--screams.

You abruptly realize that if you even want a chance at a legal career you need to find a way out. Now.

Voice hoarse—did you scream? Who even fucking knew. You lean up, mouth warm against the row of silver piercings circling his ear, desperate, “We need to get out, they’re—“

And, as before, nada. Just grunts and harder bites and a renewed desperation to make you cum at the perceived resistance. You groan as his hand works you back up. Fuck. Ok. Logic wasn’t the way forward. Time to change tactics.

Your hand tugs on his hair. Softly, at first, but as the sirens outside wail louder you give up subtlety and pull in one hard unforgiving motion that jerks his head back and rips several fine, white hairs from his skull.

The hand between your legs pauses. The other loosens from its hold on your wrist. And the man connected to them fucking moans like a pornstar during the goddamn money shot.

There’s a telltale wetness against your rumpled dress where it’s pressed up against his crotch but there’s no time to marvel at that, not when you’re finally free enough to wiggle away. You adjust yourself as you do, pulling your dress down.

He falls forward towards the bar in one half-step, gasp of air, threatening to collapse. You side step him in favor of rushing towards the women’s bathroom.

There’s a window you’d spied during an earlier bathroom trip that leads to the alley. Assuming the cops were too busy controlling the crowd out front, you could make your escape, and—

Some madness strikes you. Some dark devil that had possessed you earlier this night makes you turn back. Makes you face the man who’d gotten you to forgot your bastard cheating ex for five minutes, who’d held you captive against a musty, beer soaked bar top, who’d fingerfucked you as you’d struggled to escape, who was currently sucking absentmindedly at those same fingers as he eyes you, grin wide and bloody—

—and say, “My place?”

You come together in a feral clash of wills, stopping several times to make out against the hard brick walls of the side streets leading to your place.

You’re not sure how much time it took to get around the police, doubly unsure of how you’d even managed to unlock your door, and as for where your two-paychecks-and-overtime splurge of a vintage dress had gone?

You shudder as your bar companion sucks messily on your pointed and now painful hard nipples, no doubt bruised due to the fact the fucker couldn’t seem to stop biting.

The clothes were a mystery for another day.

Right now the only important thing was to give as good as you got. And the fucker still had his pants on.

Unfair, considering you’d lost your own stockings sometime earlier. Probably around the time you’d tripped over one of your ex’s shitty expensive golf clubs that you’d been working up the courage to throw in the Bay. You shake your head. Didn’t matter. That asshole didn’t matter.

Now the man who’d gotten you off in the middle of a rioting bar? He warranted some thought.

“Off,” you say, the only warning you give before shoving him back onto the bed. He falls willingly, but not gracefully, teeth dragging on your swollen nipple before laying out on the pristine comforter in a mess of splayed limbs. The portrait of a perfect disaster of a man, grin boyish and content, looking as if your word was his command.

His eyes, though. Dark as the devil and with twice the challenge in them.

You’ve never been a forceful person during sex. In life, sure, although people didn’t expect it out of your usual bubbly smile. Part of the reason you chose a legal career was to berate and overpower others. Made up for being all of five foot nothing and with an ass people noticed before the subpoena you were serving. But sex was something you’d always been careful with, letting others take the lead. Always too worried of admonishment to bite as hard you wanted to, rake your nails as deep as you craved.

You folded yourself smaller to fit the role people made for you and what had you even gotten from it.

So no, you don’t look away as he rips off his belt and starts to kick off his pants. His eyes seem to dare you not to either, staring back into yours with a wild intensity that makes your insides shake in recognition.

You know that feeling. You’ve chased that feeling, half asleep for years, in the arms of men who took your surrender as a given. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t vulnerable. It wasn’t fucking romantic.

It was the promise of absolute devastation.

His pants hit the floor with nothing to follow and you spare a glance downwards in curiosity. You pause. Well. You didn’t see that every day.

His hand falls to instinctively palm his erection, eyes still fixed on yours even as a thumb idly brushed the steel fucking barbell on the tip of his fucking dick. And more where that came from, judging by what was peeking out between his fingers.

The woman you fancied yourself being would start shoving him out of her apartment with his clothes to follow, all before slamming the door closed and locking it. Twice.

The woman you’re realizing you are just smiles and tugs down her underwear. It falls to the floor, already absolutely soaking from previous ministrations.

Judging by the way his eyes trail down, finally fully black as they take you in with a low, “Fuck, girly…”

He seems to like this woman.

Your smile turns vicious at this first sign of weakness, his sudden inability to speak when his mouth hadn’t stopped running from the moment he’d started finger fucking you on a beer soaked bar top.

Now he’s the one affected, shaken, eyes stuck on your body like he owned it. He focuses unerringly at the trim, wet, patch of hair between your legs that almost glistened from the street lights through the open curtains. His hand squeezes his erection even tighter.

Yes, he wants you. But he’ll have to earn that. Something rises in you, a need. His gaze snaps up to yours on something like instinct and it’s a second, two, before everything explodes.

You throw yourself forward, knees bracketing his thin hips, hands reaching to push him back. He goes, but not before twisting, legs tangling in yours in a quick, sloppy movement that reverses your positions. His hand curls around the back of your neck and he pulls you into a wet kiss. The piercing from before is back, clanking against the inside of your mouth, and you groan, pressing your chest closer to his.

You wrestle a few moments more, twisting and elbowing for dominance. The tingle of coolness on your sternum is what draws you to look down and realize that of course this man has nipple piercings.

You tweak one curiously and he groans against your lips. Sensitive. Well, nipple play turnaround was fair game. You pinch one, hard. He breaks away from your mouth for a second, long enough for you to move.

His hiss turns into a long moan as you start to jerk him off. You go slowly at first, thumbing drops of precum from his bulbous head for lubrication, only to speed up as you feel him start to grow harder.

“So good,” he gasps. “So fucking good, dollface.”

Between his panting and the growing ache between your legs, you want him in. He seems to agree, if the way he’s bucking into your hand is anything to go by. You grip his cock harder as you reverse your positions, straddling his stomach and leaving a trail of wetness. There’s a moment where your eyes lock, an almost boyish smile on his face, before you sink onto him.

“Shit,” now it’s you cursing, eyes only barely managing to keep from clenching shut. Shit, he was big. Shit, you weren’t used to this. Shit, your fucking guts were going to hurt tomorrow. And it’s that thought that sends a tremor through you, taking more of him in a sudden slick movement. You make a strangled sound. How was he so fucking big.

“C’mon, doll,” he coos, “You can take it all the way, I know you can.”

His hands on your hips are trying to get you to bottom out, needy and insistent. You stop, furious.

“Don’t,” you hiss, wrapping a hand around his throat and squeezing, “Tell me what to do.”

His hands clench into the fat of your thighs so hard you can feel the bruises forming, but you keep at it, pulsing evenly around the pierced head of his dick - and isn’t that a strange feeling - until he gasps.

You can actually feel him swallow hard. You can feel his Adam's apple bob. You can feel his blood pound between your fingers.

You can stop that blood if you want to. If you were a worse person, you could stop all of him if you wanted to.

And all he’s doing is throwing his head back as if trying to give you more. It’s such a gesture of submission that you can feel the heat inside you start to burn anew. You sink down onto the rest of him in a final stroke that hits your cervix so hard you clench your hand tighter than you meant, sharp nails digging in hard.

You feel blood start to well up, slippery against the sweat at his throat, and it’s not even half a second before you’re lifting your hips up completely and slamming them back down. The first few strokes are hesitant, but you quickly find your stride. You empty out completely before falling back down on his throbbing cock, again and again, core clenching in need. His hips rise to meet yours, but it’s sloppy, like the desperate throws of a wounded animal. And god, that makes you feel so fucking good.

You can feel him moan, try to say something, but all that comes out is a choked, “F-fuck--”

His hands on your hips are painful now, but it only adds to the experience. Your thighs are screaming in protest, muscles burning as you do nothing more than fuck yourself on this random stranger.

Leaning forward leads to a new angle that hits something right inside you and you gasp, “Holy shit, yes—”

Stars are flickering in your vision, making you loosen your grip, just for a second. And apparently, that was all he needed.

Before you know or even realize he’s moved, you’re thrown back on the messy bed belly up like a live sacrifice. You crawl back to compose yourself, only for a hand on your ankle to pull you forward.

There’s not even time to curse or struggle before he’s back inside you, pounding away at that exactly same spot that sent your eyes rolling. The urge to not give up, to make him earn this, makes you try to buck him off. He ignores it.

“Fuck, yes, doll, do you like that,” he says, panting, the lack of hesitation in his rhythm making it less of a question than a demand, “Doll, you’re so fucking wet—"

Smiling madly, he spreads you open so far the highest muscles on your inner thigh hurts and then just continues fucking into you. One leg makes its way onto his shoulder and you can’t put up any coherent struggle now, not with the way the base of his dick is brushing against your clit in hard jerks that send you almost spiraling.

“J-just like that, sweet cheeks,” he stutters out, “Like a fucking dream.”

Shit. You were losing. You grab onto the tattooed expanse of his arm and rip your nails in, trying to right yourself, but he just presses you back down, mouth crashing against yours so hard your teeth clank.

It’s fury and blood and you’re being fucking consumed. The heat in your gut is so hot you feel like you’re about to explode. Shit. SHIT. He pulls away and looks at you as his tempo speeds up. His eyes might have been brown but it’s hard to tell, not with the way his pupils have blown, wide gaze fixed at the junction where his cock disappears into you. Like he wanted to fucking take a picture or something.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, almost below his breath, “Doll, you’re so fucking—fucking pretty."

“Oh,” you say, twisting your hips, but not enough. His cock just keeps hammering into you, like he ran on fucking batteries. Your tits are bouncing in time with his thrusts. “O-Oh, shit—“

“So wet, and—and pretty. You’re so fucking pretty, doll, just like that."

Close, you’re close, and you won’t go down like this, won’t go down with a fight. One hand reaches for a fistful of his hair and twists, abrupt enough that it jerks his head to the side. You start to sit up, trying to regain the upper hand, but it’s too late, the piercings on his dick dragging against just the right spot on his next stroke.

It’s too good. You barely have the time to sink your teeth into the side of his neck before you’re coming.

The world erupts in light and sound and it’s glorious, better than good, glorious, better than anything you’ve ever felt before because you fucking earned this. You claw at his back and sides, writhing with the release. There’s another jerk in your lower body that sends the pierced head of his dick pounding against your cervix, the overstimulation and bruising bursting together into a painful kind of pleasure that makes you want to cry as you clench down again.

“Fuck, f-fuck, that’s perfect--please!”

Someone’s moaning and it takes a second to realize it’s you and the next second to realize the begging is doing something for him as his thrusts grow more erratic. He makes a low sound, like a dying animal, before jerking his hips one last time and flooding your bare pussy with heat.

Oh shit. No condom.

Oh shit. That feels so fucking good.

There’s something more claiming about feeling a man come inside you, a fullness that feels like choking. Between that and the fact he’s still rutting against you, steel piercing hitting the exact spot from before like it was laser guided, you feel yourself clench one more time, gasping as you throw your head back.

When the crescendo ends you come back to the taste of metal in your mouth and a stretch in your lower body that probably has something to do with how you’re nearly bent in half.

One of your knees is hovering somewhere around your left ear. The other is currently pressed awkwardly into the bed at an angle that feels like your hip is popping. Definitely not a typical yoga pose.

You’re still pulsing around him, aftershocks like a heartbeat that only serve to squeeze around his softening cock. He’s panting into your other ear, hard breaths that tingle your neck and make you shudder.

Well. That was something.

You half expect exhaustion to hit you then, but it doesn’t. Only exhilaration hums in your veins. A feeling of accomplishment.

You move only so much as to get your leg back into a half normal position, frowning a little when he uses the space to just collapse further into you, sweaty skin slipping against your own. Eh. You can shower later. A wave of contentment causes you to smile and you wiggle your arms out only to wrap them around the man almost passed out atop you.

His nose presses against your hair as you squeeze him closer. His shoulders are broad, slick with sweat and maybe a little blood. The thought makes you shiver strangely.. “Thanks,” you say. “That…was really, really perfect."

Awkward, but also warranted. This was the best fuck you’d had in a while. Honestly, ever.

There’s a puff of air on your temple as he laughs. “Happy to help, doll.”

You hum again, hands trailing down his back to sooth at the broken skin. He slips out of you, cum dripping from your thighs down onto the sheets. He makes no move to actually get up and clean you. You’re weirdly okay with it. The mess feels like proof, evidence that this happened. Like a runner’s high, but better.

You knead the back of his neck slowly and feel sluggishness finally drip into your veins. You could definitely get used to this. You’re only half awake as you mutter, “That's sweet."

And as you close your eyes to sleep, you don’t notice as he slowly lifts his head, eyes filled with a strange enthrallment. Only barely, you hear a cooed, “Anything for my girl.”

You're woken up several times.

The first time it’s to the awareness of an odd tenderness in your lower half that turns out to be your fast asleep one night stand having grabby hands. And a propensity for digging his fingers into the same bruises he’d made. You just harrumphed and twisted one his fingers back until he yelped. The next few times are much the time, until you give up and just let the single minded man do as he pleased.

The last time you wake is because some asshole is pounding on the front door.

“Hey, are you here? Cmon, let me in! I just wanna talk!”

Someone's calling your name in between hard bangs and you are so done with this. You groan and try to smother yourself with a pillow, “Shut them up…”

“No worries, I’ll get it, doll.”

There’s a rustling next to you before the bed dips and rises, leaving you to roll over into the impossibly warm space. Sleep. Back to sleep. Nothing to worry about for—

“Who the FUCK are you!”

You jump awake. Fuck. Fuck, you knew that voice. You knew that voice well.

“Could ask you the same thing, asshole!”

You also knew that voice. A little less well and not so much when it wasn’t moaning your fucking praises but still. Oh, fuck. Your heart jackrabbits and you remember everything, frantically tying a sheet around you. The sex. The bar. The police.

Your ex.

Something sinks like a lead weight in your stomach as you remember the betrayal of watching your boyfriend of six years getting sucked off by a random stranger you hired to clean the bathrooms.

The way his eyes had widened upon seeing you. The way his fucking cum had stained the carpet. The way he’d pleaded that it was just another mistake and that he loved you with his fucking dick still untucked and hanging out of dress pants you'd bought him.

Without quite realizing you’d decided to, you leave the bedroom and approach the loud voices by the doorway.

“Listen, pal, I’m in a good mood so if you get lost now I won’t break your fucking neck! That’s a good deal. Trust me.”

You pause at the mess of clothes at the hallway, shredded stockings hanging off a toppled set of golf clubs, bra almost ripped in two with the lace of one cup settled beside the hallway desk of guest linens.

“Is that a fucking threat? I’m calling the cops, you’re fucking crazy, I don’t know what—“

It’s the stranger from last night that sees you first, and isn’t that a laugh. His neck almost cracks from how fast his head turns, beaming as he says, “Doll! You’re awake! Give me a sec, I’ll be—“

“Move,” is all you say, giving your hookup a single second to step aside before you step forward and swing a stainless steel golf driver at your asshole ex’s stupid fucking head.

Said asshole ducks in time, unfortunately, but the blow smashes part of the door frame into little splinters that rain back on him.

“What the fuck—“

“I told you not to come back,” you say, voice so even it scares even you a little, “I told you the next time your lying, shitty ass got near me I was going to hurt you.” His wide, shaking eyes only make the fury in your chest condense further. “You should have listened."

“Fuck, look, look, I didn’t mean it, it was a mistake—“

You swung again. He jumped back. Damn it, you were too slow. Like always. The pressure in your chest gets worse and not even the sight of him backing up in the hallway is enough to help.

You ex says, “Look, look, we can fix this, it’s fine. You fooled around too, look, it’s normal, we can work on this!” He points to the half-naked white haired man in the doorway, his arms crossed and face focused on you. Still grinning.

“We can just forget all of this, go back to the way it is. Please, I love you, —“

He starts to say your name and that’s fucking enough. You lunge forward and slam the golf club against where his head was, managing to hit his shoulder. He cries out, “You crazy bitch!” and starts to move, but nothing happens.

So quickly you barely realized he’d gotten that close, your goddamned one night stand has your goddamned ex boyfriend pinned several inches up against the goddamned wall.

You watch him barely strain to keep an elbow pressed on your ex’s throat. The lean muscles on his arm are tensed slightly under a kaleidoscope of tattoos. Some part of you was mesmerized.

“Want the honors, doll, or can I?” His voice is directed at you, but with an eagerness in it that makes your ex flinch. It’s compounded by almost crooning way he says, “Cause I really, really wanna fuck him up.”

A shiver runs through you, good or bad you’re not sure. What you are sure of is that it’s fucking cold in this hallway and you’re only in a goddamn cum-stained sheet. You drop the golf club and it clatters to the floor.

“I don’t care anymore.” Sighing, you turn back to your apartment. “Tell him if he wants his shit to see me in small claims court. Just get him out of here.”

Your ex calls your name a few more times before going suspiciously silent, but you’re already back in your own kitchen. You reach for the expensive as shit espresso machine that still breaks down five times a fucking month and start to pour in fresh ground. The routine soothes the fever in your chest and by the time you’ve pulled the last lever, you feel drained.

There’s a slam as the door closes and you don’t turn, letting the sound of the machine drown out the obnoxiously loud thuds of feet.

There’s a pause, and then, “He’s gone. Some friends are gonna come clean up in a bit.” Another pause. “Are you—“

“What’s your name?” You interrupt, turning.

He’s smiling at you, but not differently. Not nervously. It’s the same bright beam from the first moment you caught sight of him in the bar. Sunshine and fucking pierced rainbows. “It’s Sawyer, doll.”

“Sawyer,” you say, testing the name out. You give him yours and he rolls it around his mouth a little, making you giggle as he stretches it out. It feels like forever since you giggled. Your smile drops as you remember. “Sorry about all that. Shitty exes, you know. You think you know a person.”

He steps closer. “Don’t gotta worry about him anymore, doll.”

“I wish,” you scoff, “I’m probably fired by now already. He’s the boss’s son, you know. Head of legal council. Should have known better. Only took the job so we could be—"

It takes a choked off gasp to realize you’re crying and another to realize you’re fucking sobbing. There’s suddenly hands on your arms, rubbing frantically.

“No, no, doll, please don’t cry! I took care of him, don’t cry, I can—“

“I hate him,” you say, bottom lip trembling, “I hate him so fucking much. I was so fucking good for him and he didn’t even care. Didn’t even understand.”

“I know, I know, he looked like a jerk, but, I took care of him, dollface,” Sawyer continues saying, “I took care of him and he won’t be walking around here anytime soon, I promise.”

You cradle your face in your hands as he coos empty platitudes. You’re crying. How dare you cry for him. You hate yourself and him but that hate doesn’t seem to stop the crying. Your next words come out muffled, “He broke my fucking heart.” A wet gasp. “I fucking gave up so much for him and he couldn’t even stop asking other women to fucking blow him! This wasn’t even the first time!”

You’re almost hyperventilating now, in the quiet, as Sawyer’s fingers had frozen halfway through combing through your mass of braids. There’s a loud swallow before, “He cheated? On you?”

You nod slowly, palms pressed hard against your eyes in an effort to stop the pathetic waterworks. “I wasn’t enough. Seven fucking years and he said I wasn’t enough.”

A pause.

“That fucking asshole.”

Something in his tone is different. You look up from your hands to see something in Sawyer's eyes that, for the first time, makes you a little scared.

“That—that fucking asshole said that—that you? Enough? The most fucking perfect little doll on the fucking planet and he wanted more? That stupid son of a bitch. That stupid, motherfucking, dead son of a bitch thinks he can make you cry and just—just—“

He moves, turning towards the door, muttering, “I’m gonna go—“

You barely catch what he’s saying anymore and grab his bare arm, suddenly desperate for him not to go. To leave you alone. “No!”

A pause and there’s something dark in his eyes as he looks at you, something that makes you want to let go and change the locks when he leaves. A calmness that was almost, almost — predatory.

“S-Stay,” you stutter, words already leaving your mouth, “Please, Sawyer. H-he’s trash and I don’t fucking care about him anymore,“ His expression is softening fast but it’s too late, the tears are coming and you feel like you’re losing control. You say, “You’re not. Please, please, stay.”

“Doll,” he starts, but you can barely make out his expression of contrition through the fresh haze of tears. God, you’re such a fucking wuss. This is exactly why your ex thought he could walk all over you.

Sawyer continues talking, “You’re the most important thing, I can handle him later, please, please, don’t cry—“

Way too late for that. You suck in a breath as he continues babbling nonsense about getting you a finger as proof or something. Now that the rage was gone, you feel so fucking awful. Your knees start to fail you but instead of falling, you’re awkwardly set down, bare knees cold against the kitchen floor. Your impromptu bedspread toga slips open and pools around you.

“Doll, doll, please, please stop crying. I-I’ll do anything, please—You want to see pictures of my ferrets? I have pictures of my ferrets! Bandit and Rascal, great ferrets, super cute, you’ll love them, doll, please don't—“

His words hit you and start to laugh. “Ferrets?”

“Yea!” His eyes light up. “You like ferrets?”

“Who doesn’t?” you say, still sniffling but smiling now, “They’re adorable as shit.”

Sawyer’s already fumbling with his phone. The screen is so cracked you half expect it not to turn on, but voila, a few seconds and there were ferrets. Blurry, sure, and a little hard to make out through the shattered glass, but still. Ferrets.

“Cute,” you say, squinting. “Do they have names?”

“Rascal! The one sleeping is Bandit. He only really wakes up at night to steal takeout from under the bed,” he replies happily, scooting closer to scroll through some more photos. “Rascal helps sometimes, but he’s more of a raw egg guy. Sometimes he can even catch them in his mouth. See?”

You hum, laying your head on Sawyer’s bare shoulder as you watch the grainy video of what looks to be a ferret with around a dozen broken egg shells surrounding him. “He looks talented.”

“Yea!” There’s an extra excitement in his voice as he looks at you, something melting in his eyes. “You’ll love them, doll.”

You blink and open your mouth to ask what he means, only for your eyes to fall on the bloody knuckles of his hand gripping the phone. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” he shrugs, “Wanna see them do some more tricks?”

You’re already rising, goosebumps covering your arms as you head for the medical kit in the bathroom. “I’ll just get some bandaids.” And a shirt, you mentally add to yourself. Walking around tits out was freeing, but bound to leave you with a cold.

Sawyer’s right behind you, still chatting away about his, admittedly adorable, ferrets. You grab the lightweight medical kit that came as a gift from your mom and grab the disinfectant. It takes a couple minutes to convince him to let you dab it on, promising more than once that it was hydrogen peroxide, not rubbing alcohol, and so wouldn’t sting, before he lets you clean the cuts.

Eventually, you finish up and are left to stare at the raised bumps of a bite mark on his shoulder.

He notices you staring and grins, “Looks good, doesn’t it?”

You look into his eyes for some sign of sarcasm. Some judgement on the fact you tried to fucking take a chunk out of him when you came, but there’s none. Only a bright understanding that you don’t get.

For some reason that reminds you of your ex, and how apparently he had never understood. At least not enough to think his cheating wouldn’t affect you. Your throat tightens and you look away. “Sorry. I don’t usually do stuff like that, “ you say, a blanket disclaimer for the entire night, “I’m usually a big goody-goody, actually. I was just so, so, I don’t know—“

“Bored?” Sawyer says and it weirdly resonates. “I get it! Sometimes you just gotta snap, doll, get it out. It’s good for you!”

You chuckle. “Don’t think losing my job and all my friends is that good.”

He tugs you closer so you stand between his legs, still only eye level with his stupid tall self. “But you got me now.”

There’s a simple earnestness there that makes you want to cry. And, in the back of your head, a slight concern on what exactly you two were now. You say awkwardly, “I mean, for now. I’ll probably have to spend the next couple weeks looking for a new job, so it’ll probably be too busy—“

“Boring,” he says, smile going sharp, “You should do something more fun, like let me get you off again.”

One hand starts to squeeze your exposed ass, the other trailing up to rub one of the angry hickies littered over your breasts. If you were a reasonable woman, you would kick him out and start calling up old work references.

The woman you actually are has a better idea on how to spend your afternoon. You let yourself smile and brush a thumb over his lips, leaning down for a brief kiss. Then you drop to your knees and start pulling out his already half-hard cock.

There’s a loud, “Fuck, doll—“ that you ignore, taking the chance instead to cradle his length. Shit, he was big. And somehow scarier up close. You eye one of the dark piercings. Also cool, you had to admit, thumbing the barbell on head of his already weeping erection.

“D-Doll, you gotta—"

You squeeze a little tighter as he speaks, forcing him to gasp. There’s a strange quality in your voice you don’t recognize as you say, “Relax, Sawyer." You lean closer to idly trail kisses up his exposed shaft between words. “I’m. Just. Having. Fun.”

He gives a stuttering moan when you look up, peering under your lashes shyly. “Is that alright?”

“Fuck—Fuck yes,” Sawyer says, eyes dark and fully dilated with want, “Play away, girly.“

Smiling at how damn eager he is, you start to mouth the head of his dick, sucking idly on the steel of the piercing and humming. Judging by the long groan and, “Fuck, fuckkkk—”

Your choice of recreation is well received.

You ignore his loud, now bordering on overly effusive, praise. Your hand is already pushing his knee away to create more room as you slowly bob your way down his impressive length. He’s so thick your mouth hurts, stretching to its limits. The bumps of the metal are odd against the silky steel texture of him and you start to squirm as you remember them inside you, rubbing together as he’d fucked in and out. Fuck, that had been good. Everything you thought you shouldn't want, but fuck, so, so good.

You’re broken from your musings by a sudden grip on the back of your head, the only warning before he thrusts, hard. His head hits the back of your throat and you almost cough, but catch yourself, breathing hard instead through your nose. It’s almost enough to prepare you for the next one, but not the one after that as he starts properly fucking your mouth.

Part of you wants to be outraged, but the majority of you is thrilled. The drool starts to pool and drip from the corner of your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks and dig your nails into his thigh to keep from gagging too hard. He doesn’t seem to mind, judging by his renewed effort, the wet gargle of face fucking still not enough to drown out his voice.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Perfect mouth,” Sawyer croons, “ Could fuck it always, doll, shit. Take it so fucking well.”

The growing ache of your sore throat is getting unbearable but it’s good, so fucking real and good. You force yourself to focus, swallowing thickly around his thrusting member, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. The sound of you properly gagging on him starts to fill the air, a wet slap that’s getting faster. Your only warning is his hand yanking your face forward, burying your nose in his curls, before his cock pulses and he comes down your throat.

Between the abuse and the honestly, torrential fucking amounts of cum this man was apparently capable of producing, you’re forced to break away with a gasp. You cough violently. Some cum drips from the corner of your mouth to your chin and his eyes follow the trail, something like fascination in the way he watches it drip down to your exposed breasts.

He reaches out to fondle one and you let him, leaning back on the cold tile. You breathe in and out with desperate pants for air as his cum slathered fingers pinch and rub your still sore nipples.

“So fucking pretty, doll,” he says, the closest he’s come to a whisper since you met, “So…” The other hand trails down to the patch between your legs.

You flinch and say, “Wait.”

He freezes, eyes wide. Smiling sheepishly, you croak out, “Still sore down there. Really sore.”

There’s a flash of some expression on his face, almost gleeful at your admission, before it melts away to the same bright smile you’re finding yourself getting used to. “Course, doll. Plenty of time.”

There’s something lurking in that statement that makes you uneasy, but you push it down. Sawyer has been nothing but helpful. Misguided and bad at anything resembling impulse control. But still helpful.

You smile back softly, covered in cum and hurting pretty much everywhere, but somehow still happier than you’ve been in a long time.

#t #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere flower #cant believe i wrote so. mich #this truly is a thot house #sawyer yf #my stuff

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fandom-go-round · 3 years ago

Text

Video Game Masterlist

Stardew Valley/Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons:

Platonic Linus x Reader (fluff)

Shane x Reader HCs [smut]

Fluffy and Smutty HCs (Shane, Maru) (fluff) [smut]

Hand Holding & First Kisses HCs (Gray) (fluff)

Yandere HCs (Dirk, Mistle) {dark}

Fem! Reader x Marine HCs (fluff)

NSFW Alphabet: I, M (Marnie, Caroline, Robin) [smut]

Fallout 4:

Chubby!Reader x Hancock (fluffy) [smut]

Parental!Hancock and Shaun HCs

Reader x Sturges Muscle Kink [smut]

Reader x Nick Valentine Fingering [smut]

Reader x Hancock Fingering [smut]

Shy! Reader Hinting at Sex HCs (Danse, Gage, Hancock, MacCready) [smut]

Male! Reader x Nick Valentine Testing Out a New Upgrade [smut]

Love Letter Event: Sturges

Devil May Cry:

Alpha!Vergil x Omega!Reader Heat [smut]

Vergil x FemDom!Reader x Dante (Collars, Cock Cages) [smut]

Stuck in the Wall Kink (Reaper, Michael Myers, Dante, Xanxus) [smut]

Dante x Reader (Pegging, Implied Fem!Dom) [smut]

Nico x Enby!Reader Admiring Skills [smut]

Virgin!Reader x Dante First Time Touching HCs [smut]

Demigirl!Reader x Virgil [smut]

Vergil x Reader x Dante Slasher AU {dark}

Super Mario:

Fem!Reader x Bowser Smut HCs [smut]

Fem!Reader x Princess Boo Exploring Castle [smut]

Fem!Reader x Princess Peach Day Date [smut]

Reader x Bowser Marriage HCs [smut]

Dead by Daylight/Slashers:

Wraith:

Wraith Stalking Reader {dark}

Invisible Sex with Reader {Outdoor Sex, Invisible Sex) [smut]

Goth!Mexican!Reader x Wraith HCs (fluff) [smut]

Shy!Reader HCs (fluff)

Goth!Mexican!Reader x Hallow Blighted!Wraith HCs [smut]

Huntress:

Huntress x Chubby!Reader (Mind Break, Mommy Kink) [smut] {dark}

Mine: Huntress x Reader [smut]

Male!Reader Breeding Kink (Non-Con, Kidnapping) [smut] {dark}

Legion:

NSFW Alphabet HCs Legion (Frank): S, T, V [smut]

Knotting HCs (Frank, Joey, Susie, Julie) [smut]

Fem!Reader Getting Fucked into the Ground (Frank) (Dubcon, Humiliation) [smut] {dark}

Doctor:

Hysteria: Doctor x Reader (Non Con, Stalking) [smut] {dark}

Male!Reader x Doctor (Urethral Play, Electrostimulation) [smut]

Overstimulated!Reader x Doctor [noncon, forced orgasms}

Blight:

Blight x Reader (Non Con, Drugging) [smut] {dark}

Jason Voorhees:

Jason Voorhees x Reader [smut] (fluff)

Michael Myers:

Michael Myers x Reader [smut] {dark}

Ghostface:

Reader Giving the Best Blow Job Ever [smut]

Dom Male!Reader x Ghostface Fucking in the Middle of a Trail [smut]

Trapper:

Tentacles for Legs (Non-Con, Bondage) [smut]

Breeding HCs [smut]

Nurse:

Male!Reader Getting a Hand Job [smut]

Reader Good at Reading Body Language HCs (fluff)

NSFW Alphabet: A, F, K (Nurse) [smut]

Amanda Young/Pig:

Fucking Fem!Reader with Strap On (Non-Con) [smut] {dark}

Diving Together (fluff)

Hillbilly:

Cock Warming HCs [smut]

Deathslinger:

Gun Play with Male!Reader (Gun Play, Weapon Play) [smut]

Afro-American-Japanese!Reader x Deathslinger NSFW HCs [chasing, biting]

Jake Park:

Clingy!Reader x Jake [smut] (fluff)

Jeff Johnson:

Commission: In The Woods - Reader x Jeff Johnson [smut]

Trickster:

Photographer!Gay!Reader HCs [smut, knife kink, blood kink]

Male!Reader x Trickster Escaping at a Cost HCs [smut]

Dom Male! Reader x Trickster [smut]

Therapist!Reader x Trickster Falling for a Murderer {dark}

Reader in Black Wedding Dress HCs [smut]

The Boy/Brahms Heelshire:

Mother May I: Reader x Brahms Heelshire [mommy kink, bondage]

Flower Prompt: Hawthorne

Tamara Mason:

Top! Male! Reader x Tamara Anal Sex [smut]

Lynda Van der Klok:

New Year Trip to Hawaii with Reader (fluff)

The Plague/Adiris:

NSFW Alphabet: A, F, K (Plague) [smut]

Claudia Wolf:

Fem! Reader Relationship Headcannons (Claudia Wolf) [smut]

Violet Moraine:

Dating HCs

Collections/Other:

Slasher Defending Chubby!Reader (Wraith, Michael Myers)

Period Sex HCs (Michael Myers, Bubba Sawyer, Brahms Heelshire, Jason Voorhees) [smut]

Stuck in the Wall Kink (Reaper, Michael Myers, Dante, Xanxus) [smut]

Smut Scenarios (Michael Myers, Brahms Heelshire, Frank Morrison) (Noncon, Torture) [smut] {dark}

Mask (Halloween Prompt): Michael Myers x Reader (Murder, Character Death) {dark}

Chasing Reader HCs Part 1 (Michael Myers, Trapper, Clown, Ghostface) [smut] {dark}

Chasing Reader HCs Part 2 (Plague, Pyramid Head, Legion, Pig) [smut] {dark}

Eating Out Hooked Survivor HCs Part 1 (Leatherface, Deathslinger, Legion) [smut] {dark}

Eating Out Hooked Survivor HCs Part 2 (Ghostface, Wraith, Hillbilly) [smut] {dark}

Eating Out Hooked Survivor HCs Part 3 (Blight, Trapper) [smut] {dark}

Oviposition HCs (Trapper, Wraith, Huntress, Spirit) [smut]

Oviposition HCs (Male Killers) [smut]

Period Sex HCs (Legion, Ghostface, Pyramid Head, Trapper) [smut]

Shy!Reader Hinting at Sex HCs (Ghostface, Legion, Trapper) [smut]

Ghostface and Daughter!Reader Adopting Frank (fluff)

Mute!Reader HCs (Ghostface, Legion, Doctor, Leatherface) {dark}

Catching Reader Masturbating HCs (David, Dwight, Trapper, Ghostface) [smut]

Reader Catching People Masturbating (Dwight, Jake, Ace, Felix) [smut]

Killer!Reader Never Killing Before HCs (Trapper, Deathslinger, Oni) {dark}

Sex Noise and Face HCs (Laurie, Yui, David, Jeff) [smut]

Shy!Reader Sex Scenarios (Ace, Felix, Jeff, Feng) [smut]

Shy!Touch Starved!Reader HCs (Jane, Ash, Huntress, Freddy) (sluff)

Trying to Distract the Killers (Nurse, Michael, Spirit, Pyramid Head) [implied smut]

Jeff Johansen x Reader x Legion Staying Warm (Frank) [smut]

Male!Reader Knocking Out Killers (Hillbilly, Cannibal, Oni)

Reader Leaving Bloody Handprints (Legion, Doctor, Trapper) (fluff)

Alternative!Reader HCs (Legion, Wraith, Huntress, Doctor)

Reader with new Swimsuit (Wraith, Legion, Felix, Jeff) [implied smut]

Stuck in the Wall HCs (Pyramid Head, Nemesis) [smut]

Caught Thinking Dirty Thoughts HCs (Michael Myers, Pinhead, Trapper, Ghostface) [implied smut]

Reader x Look-See Short Smut Scenario [smut, character death]

Making Out with Crush During a Trial (Trapper, Pig, Trickster) [sexual situations]

Period Sex HCs (Freddy Kruger, Pinhead, Nemesis, Trickster) [smut]

Reader in a Wedding Dress HCs (Legion, Ghostface, Trickster) [implied smut]

Shy!Reader Dirty Thoughts HCs (Dwight, Jeff, Steve, Leon) [implied smut]

Reader Caught in Provocative Positions HCs (Trapper, Shape, Nemesis, Pinhead) [smut]

Male!Reader Having a Prostate Orgasm (Trapper, Blight, Oni) [smut]

Wet Dream HCs (Trapper, Michael Myers, Pig, Ghostface) [smut]

Stuck in a Wall Kink HCs (Ghostface, Blight, Pinhead) [smut]

Jealous of People Getting Too Close HCs (Ghostface, Trapper, Wesker) [smut]

Shy!Reader Getting Seduced (Feng, Meg, Mikaela, Nea) [smut]

Reader Who Loves to Tease HCs (Nurse, Plague) [implied smut]

Kind but Cocky Reader (Lynda Van Der Klok, Tamara Mason)

Reader Who Can Read Facial Expressions (Pig, Huntress, Artist)

Male! Reader Spanking During Sex (Tamara Mason, Heather Miller, Kelly Meeker) [smut]

Reader in Black Wedding Dress HCs (Doctor, Ghostface) [smut]

High Pain Tolerant Reader HCs (Trickster, Doctor)

Soulmate AU HCs (Trickster, Doctor) [smut]

Relationship HCs (Claudia Wolf, Lisa Garland)

Bendy and the Ink Machine:

Platonic HCs (Bendy) (fluff)

Baldur’s Gate 3:

Realizing They're in Love with Reader (Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Karlach, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Wyll) (fluff)

Realizing They're in Love with Reader (Gortash) (fluff)

Personal Time: Astarion x Reader x Halsin [smut]

Reader Knocked Out During Fight (Astarion) {angst}

Shy! Reader Headcanons (Minthara) (fluff) [smut]

Reader Getting Eaten Out During Period (Astarion, Karlach, Shadowheart, Wyll) [smut]

Channeling Different Types of Magic (Gale, Halsin, Shadowheart, Wyll)

Reactions to Pregnant! Reader (Astarion, Gale, Karlach, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Wyll) (fluff) {angst}

Fem! Reader x Karlach Shapeshifter HCs (fluff)

Fire Emblem:

A/B/O HCs (Claude, Felix, Caspar, Linhardt)

A/BO HCs (Edelgard, Dorothea, Ingrid, Mercedes)

Character Thoughts (Hector, Eliwood, Mathew, Lyn, Raven)

Reader x Hubert (soft, comfort)

Figuring Things Out (Implied ABO Reader x Claude x Yuri X Felix) (fluff)

Five Nights at Freddy’s:

Sea Salt Like Glitter: Part One (Mer! Sun x Reader x Mer! Moon)

Sea Salt Like Glitter: Part Two (Mer! Sun x Reader x Mer! Moon)

Sea Salt Like Glitter: Part Three (Mer! Sun x Reader x Mer! Moon)

Sea Salt Like Glitter: Part Four (Mer! Sun x Reader x Mer! Moon)

Sea Salt Like Glitter: Part Five (Mer! Sun x Reader x Mer! Moon) [smut]

Sea Salt Like Glitter Headcannons, World Building

Engineer! Reader Helping Sun & Moon {implied dark}

Danganronpa:

Character Thoughts (Mondo Owada)

Character Thoughts (Kiyotaka Ishimaru)

Poly Ishimaru x Reader x Owada Non-Despair AU (fluff)

Mondo x Yasuhiro Bondage [smut]

Reader x Hiyoko Japanese Festival (fluff)

Reader x Kazuichi Soda Flower Prompt: Pansy

Reader x Sayaka Maizono First Date HCs (fluff)

Reader x Mahiru Koizumi First Time HCs [smut]

Male!Reader x Junko Pegging [smut]

Love Letter Event: Mikan

Ultimate Clown Reader (Mikan, Aoi)

Male! Reader x Junko Boob Kink [smut]

Pokémon:

Professor Kukui at the Beach [NSFW]

Bug Trainer! Reader x Sabrina Headcannons (fluff)

Reader x Cynthia NSFW Headcannons [smut]

Shall We Date? Obey Me!:

Making Comments on Plus Size!Reader's Weight HCs (hurt/comfort) (Mammon, Levi, Asmo, Beel) (fluff) {angst}

Insecure!Reader x Mammon (fluff, emotional) [smut]

Reader Not Used to Hanging with Boys HCs (fluff)

Reader Flashing Boobs HCs (Mammon, Beel, Barbatos, Asmo, Simeon, Diavolo) [implied smut]

#1 Kinks for the Brothers (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphegor) [smut]

Mass Effect:

Diplomat!Reader x Adrien Victus HCs (fluff)

Reader x Thane Krios Finding a Cure (fluff)

Skyrim:

Reader x Veezera Surviving (fluff)

Resident Evil:

Jealous HCs (Chris, Claire, Jill, Leon)

Shy! Reader x Leon Having a Quickie [smut]

Autistic! Reader x Jill Meltdown Comfort HCs

Siren! Reader x Alcina Dimitrescu Underwater Sex [smut]

Fem! Werewolf! Reader x Alcina Dimitrescu [smut]

Twisted Wonderland:

Reader x Lilia Flower Prompt: Hawthorne [smut]

Just a Nip: Part One {dark}

Just a Nip: Part Two {dark}

Just a Nip: Part Three [smut] {dark}

Recovering Together: Heartslabyal

Recovering Together: Savanaclaw

Recovering Together: Octavinelle

Recovering Together: Scarabia

Recovering Together: Pomefiore

Recovering Together: Ignihyde

Recovering Together: Diasomnia

To Be a Songbird: Part One (Vil x Reader x Leona)

To Be a Songbird: Part Two (Vil x Reader x Leona)

To Be a Songbird: Part Three (Vil x Reader x Leona)

Telekinetic! Reader x Azul Ashengrotto HCs (fluff)

Plus Size! Reader x Rook Chase Kink [smut]

Code: Realize:

Spending a Snowy Day Together HCs (Impey, Lupin, Van Helsing, Saint-Germain, Frankenstein) (fluff)

NSFW HCs (Impey, Lupin, Van Helsing, Saint-Germain, Frankenstein, Guinevere) [smut]

Death Mark:

The First Few Dates: Mashita Satoru x Yashiki Kazuo x Daimon Shuuji x Hiroo Madoka (fluff)

#masterlist #video game masterlist

503 notes · View notes

slashersins-abandoned · 4 years ago

Text

masterlist

who i write for :

bubba sawyer

thomas hewitt

jason voorhees

brahms heelshire

michael myers ( RZ )

bo sinclair

vincent sinclair

lester sinclair

billy loomis

stu macher

jesse cromeans

jacob goodnight

martin ( 1977 )

carrie white

dallas buchanan ( OC )

works :

bubba sawyer

headcanons | one | two | three | four | five | six |

cum headcanons | one | two |

kissing

favorite ice cream

fearless s/o

dizzy s/o

conflict & make up

play fighting

reactions to the paranormal

s/o having a panic attack

chores

unmasking

sweet tooth

claiming style

soft s/o

thighs , ass , hips & tiddies ( part two )

boney boyfriend

s/o with pcos

s/o admiring their chub

reaction to fangirls

feelings on cats

hair down there

chubby s/o

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

reaction to getting flowers

thomas hewitt

how you met . . . | one | two | three | four | five | six |

cum headcanons | one | two |

favorite ice cream

fearless s/o

play fighting

dizzy s/o

conflict & make up

reactions to the paranormal

s/o having a panic attack

chores

unmasking

s/o leaving without telling

sweet tooth

claiming style

soft s/o

handy s/o

thighs , ass , hips & tiddies ( part two )

chubby

first kill in front of soft s/o

boney boyfriend

s/o with pcos

reaction to fangirls

hurt / comfort | one |

feelings on cats

hair down there

somonophilia kink

chubby s/o

breeding kink

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

reaction to getting flowers

jason voorhees

how you met . . . | one | two | three |

cum headcanons | one | two |

favorite ice cream

clingy & petite s/o

naturalist s/o

bottoming headcanons

outside loving

dizzy s/o

play fighting

reactions to the paranormal

s/o having a panic attack

chores

unmasking

s/o leaving without telling

sweet tooth

claiming style

soft s/o

handy s/o

collars

bees

thighs , ass , hips & tiddies ( part two )

chubby

bottoming

naked

rough

reaction to getting the silent treatment

boney boyfriend

s/o with pcos

soft and sweet

s/o admiring their chub

reaction to fangirls

hurt / comfort | one |

feelings on cats

hair down there

if you want something , take it

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

reaction to getting flowers

brahms heelshire

best friends are never forgotten | one |

cum headcanons | one | two |

i hope you dance

things that go bump in the night

favorite ice cream

play fighting

clingy & petite s/o

reactions to the paranormal

s/o having a panic attack

chores

unmasking

s/o leaving without telling

sweet tooth

claiming style

soft s/o

thighs , ass , hips & tiddies ( part two )

chubby

first kill in front of soft s/o

reaction to getting the silent treatment

boney boyfriend

s/o with pcos

s/o admiring their chub

s/o kills their minecraft character

reaction to fangirls

hurt / comfort | one |

feelings on cats

hair down there

sweet dreams

chubby brahms with a mommy kink

somonophilia kink

overstimulation

light stuffing kink

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

reaction to getting flowers

michael myers ( RZ )

how you met . . .

cum headcanons | one | two |

s/o who passes out

favorite ice cream

play fighting

s/o caught in a downpour

dizzy s/o

reactions to the paranormal

s/o having a panic attack

nightmares

chores

unmasking

s/o leaving without telling

breeding

sweet tooth

happy birthday

carving

daddy

old man myers & kids

sugar sweet

collars

thighs , ass , hips & tiddies ( part two )

chubby

loves me , loves me not

first kill in front of soft s/o

bottoming

boney boyfriend

s/o with pcos

period sex

jealousy

s/o admiring their chub

reaction to fangirls

feelings on cats

hair down there

corruption kink

light stuffing kink

chubby s/o

degradation kink

he’s my husband

name calling

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

reaction to getting flowers

bo sinclair

hurt / comfort | one |

know your place

lunch

corruption kink

degradation kink

music

unfinished

someone like me

bees

breeding ftm trans s/o

evangeline

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

reaction to getting flowers

vincent sinclair

hurt / comfort | one |

soft moments

smoke

nsfw alphabet

somonophilia kink

music

public affair

a kiss

bees

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

reaction to getting flowers

lester sinclair

chubby s/o

music

bathing jonesy

vegetarian s/o

bees

tease

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

roadhead

build-a-bear date

reaction to getting flowers

billy loomis

cum headcanons | one | two |

fluff & smut

play fighting

how you met . . .

reactions to the paranormal

chores

s/o leaving without telling

sweet tooth

mark you up

dvp

collars

thighs , ass , hips & tiddies ( part two )

first kill in front of soft s/o

yandere

boney boyfriend

sleepy s/o

s/o with pcos

getting chubby

s/o kills their minecraft character

s/o with anxiety

reaction to fangirls

feelings on cats

hair down there

play along with this charade | one | two |

corruption kink

light stuffing kink

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

stu macher

cum headcanons | one | two |

fluff & smut

play fighting

how you met . . .

reactions to the paranormal

chores

s/o leaving without telling

sweet tooth

dvp

collars

thighs , ass , hips & tiddies ( part two )

first kill in front of soft s/o

yandere

boney boyfriend

sleepy s/o

s/o with pcos

getting chubby

s/o kills their minecraft character

s/o with anxiety

reaction to fangirls

feelings on cats

hair down there

play along with this charade | one | two |

corruption kink

somonophilia kink

overstimulation

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

jesse cromeans

how you met . . .

cum headcanons | one | two |

favorite ice cream

headcanons | one |

play fighting

reactions to the paranormal

chores

s/o leaving without telling

sweet tooth

claiming style

collars

thighs , ass , hips & tiddies ( part two )

first kill in front of soft s/o

reaction to getting the silent treatment

boney boyfriend

s/o with pcos

i loved you first

i never stopped loving you

someone flirting with his s/o

reaction to fangirls

feelings on cats

hair down there

corruption kink

degradation kink

future fic idea

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

jacob goodnight

how you met

s/o getting hurt

first time headcanons

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

reaction to getting flowers

martin ( 1977 )

untitled

s/o with a vhp piecing

if they had a piecing

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

reaction to getting flowers

carrie white

i’ve got you

smoke / drink / both / neither

build-a-bear date

untitled

dallas buchanan ( OC )

fadsf

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fluffybunnyartist · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! Love your work and won't ever stop telling you! 🥰 How would Michael (Other Slashers) React to their S/O Protecting their prey? Again, no rush do what you love!

Ooooh I love this one! And thank you so much!! 😍

MICHAEL MYERS

Pulls you off his prey and kills them. No hesitation. Then he'll think that you were in love or cheating on him. Not only is he possessive he's a bit insecure when it comes to you.

Yea he can kill with the best of them and throw hands like no one ever has but he still thinks maybe you'd want someone normal. Someone who can feel emotions like a normal person.

Assure him that this isnt the case and explain why you didn't want him killing that person. (Friend, family, innocent etc.) He will probably try to stop killing in front of you. Try is the key word here.

He'll become 100x more possevive and give you a new hickey or bite mark each day. Oh that marks fading? Come here Y/N. Now.

All in all he'll get annoyed just dont do it often. Do it too much and it might lead to some angry sex. Any more and depending on your relationship he might kill you or leave you. He wants all of you or nothing.

A little bit of a yandere so he mostly feels jealous when you try to protect someone. He wants that for himself.

BUBBA SAWYER

No no no Y/N! That's dinner!! Here have this instead! (Hands you his bracelet or something of that nature.

Bribes the FUCK out of you. But also thinks it's really cute! You're so innocent and sweet you wanna protect everyone but unfortunately you cant.

Bubba will try to compromise with you and try to start killing away from you. This is one of the few things he will fight you on. But he will never be mean about it. They just eat people. You most likely eat people as well.

If you really insist and start crying he'll nod and then either go behind your back and lie or actually let them go (very rare)

Usually he feels bad about lying and it's hard for him but he wants you to eat and survive. He mostly lies to keep you safe and fed. He loves you so much! I

If it's a boy he'll be very jealous and less likely to comply. One of the few times he'll use his strength against you and put you in a room or straight up yeet the victim into a locked room to deal with you first.

JASON VOORHEES

Sweet darling Y/N these are bad people!

He can take it one of two ways. If it's a girl victim or a younger child he'll think you're the sweetest thing ever and move you out of the way. He thinks about how kind you are to even want these evil trespassers to not be hurt. He'll think you're naive and keeps more of an eye on you. How can you tell good from bad?

If it's a male (more so an attractive one) he'll be hurt. He'll think that you like the other guy and murder him on the spot in a fit of rage. If you start to show fear he calms down immediately and tries to explain it was for your own good.

Will try to make it up in anyway he can. Flowers gifts clothes (mostly from female victims) and be extra affectionate towards you. Will do almost anything you ask for awhile too. Minus the whole tresspaser thing.

All in all if you throw a fit or tantrum he'll prioritize calming you down over the invader so you can save some that way. Just be sure to treat him extra nice after that.

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher #jason vorhees x reader #jason voorhees #bubba saywer x reader #bubba sawyer #michael myers x reader #michael myers

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yandere-flower · 1 year ago

Note

What would be your ocs go to punishment for a darling that is maybe steeping over lines they should know better not to, kind of like an everyday type punishment? And what would be their go to punishment for an extreme rule break? Like trying to escape

Cliff - Honestly the stern slap, and then if you tried to escape it would be him taking away all your agency. He picks out your clothes and dresses you, feeds you, schedules your whole day, basically doesn't let you do anything unless he told you to do it

Sawyer - Honestly, at first for a minor thing he'd ghost for a bit. Maybe spend more nights out, less talking. He feels hurt and he wants to see you hurt by him not engaging. More serious, he ties you up and leaves you in bed all day until he gets back and cries/yells in front of you for a bit. He just wants you to love him, that's all.

Antonio - Arguing/the slap is his first stop. Then serious gaslighting. He wants you to doubt yourself and crumble before him so he can reconstruct you like art. He also wants you as you are, and wants that version of you to love him. He says he doesn't want control, so he'll make you doubt yourself until you "choose" him.

Desmond - Kidnapping you is the minor one lol. More seriously, he just stops trying to "play nice". Before he recognized how you would feel and tried to at least be cautious, or mindful, but now he doesn't care. He doesn't need you to love him, he just needs you here. He'll break your leg after an escape attempt, and be cold. He won't admit how much it hurt him tho, and how he's angry at you.

Ezra - This is tough. He doesn't really punish, so there's no minor one here. If you try to leave him tho, he will drug your food and all dollify you like Cliff, but less of a daddy kind of way and more in a "picture perfect household" kind of way. He'll constantly drug you to, just enough to keep you compliant

Mizu - He's a brat, and will throw a tantrum and say mean things to you and how he doesn't care about you, get out of his space. More seriously, he'll deprive everything. You get a cold, empty room and the bare minimum to eat at first, and slowly he'll feel guilty lonely and start giving nicer things, and then say he'll let you sit at his fit in the comfy room as he plays games. He kinda makes you a pet.

#flower answers #yandere x reader #yandere #cliff #sawyer #antonio #desmond #ezra #mizu

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insomiaismygame · 5 years ago

Text

Bubblegum

A Sawyer x female reader fic

Sawyer does not belong to me but to the talented @yandere-flower who I highly recommend you guys check out. I’m writing this fic in dedication to them. ❤️

TW: gumplay (is that a thing?) , cunilingus, grinding, tongueplay, foreplay

IF YOU DONT LIKE DONT READ!!

You have always loved bubblegum and are rarely without a pack of it. It helps you concentrate when working on big projects for work. Then helps you to unwind after a hard day at work. However, today was an exception as you had left what little gum you had at home. Without your gum you were miserable at work and your time there felt like the day would never end. The only thing keeping you from crying was the thought of coming home to your loving boyfriend and chewing on that last piece of gum. The last thing you expected was to see Sawyer chewing on said last piece while watching tv.

You love your boyfriend very much but when it came to your gum you had a set boundary. You gripped the hem of your dress as you watched him blow a giant, light pink bubble. As you watched the bubble pop an idea poppped in to your head. Loosening your grip on your dress you walk around the couch stopping in front of Sawyer. He looks up at you inquisitively, and gives you a wide smile.

“Oh hey babe, what’s up?” he asks in between chews.

You don’t bother responding but instead climb on top of him; resting your legs outside of thighs straddling him. He looks up at you knowingly and give you a smirk showing off a little of his fang. He continues chewing on the gum and proceeds to place his hands on your hips squeezing them lightly. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him in close leaving your faces inches away.

“Rough day at work darling?” he asks with the same smirk still plastered on his face.

“Yeah it was” you respond as a mischievous smile tugs at your mouth. You take your hands off his neck and take out the tight ponytail you wore to work. Locks of hair fall loosely onto your shoulders framing your face as you look down at him seductively. You place your arms around his shoulders again pulling his head close with your mouth stopping by his heavily pierced ear.

“But the real kicker was when you stole my gum” you whisper. “And I would like it back” you say as you lick one of his cartilage piercings eliciting a shiver from him.

You make your way to Sawyers lips and kiss him passionately. Shoving your tongue into his mouth twisting it around his feeling the cool metal of his tongue stud. His mouth tasted sweet with with the flavor of the gum still lingering. You continue your battle with his tongue while his hands begin to squeeze your hips a little harder. You place your place your hands on his and roll your hips against his groin. He gasps and you scoop up the gum into your mouth giving it a few chews. You look down at him triumphantly stroking your fingers through his hair whilst blowing a small bubble; popping it with your teeth. Sawyer gives you a toothy grin and picks you up wrapping your legs around his hips. Setting your back onto the couch he looks down at you with lust. He makes his way to you neck setting light kisses along it. He goes further down sucking on your collarbone making you moan; leaving a dark purple bruise in his wake. His hands make their way under your dress ghosting over your thighs. He makes his way back up to your face giving you a light and gentle kiss evoking a smile from you.

Sawyer sits up and with your legs still wrapped around his waist he smoothly takes off his black tank top. Tosses it to the side and puts his hands back under your dress tugging the hem of your underwear with fingers. You bend your legs back allowing him to remove the lacy thing. He looks up at you and smirks and quickly delves his head between your legs. His tongue meets your womanhood with long wide strokes. The metal of his tongue stud every now and then bumping against your clit. You cross your arms over your face stifling moans your chest rising and falling heavily. Sawyer grips your thighs powerfully; sure to leave bruises the day after. The pace of his tongue quickens and he moves his thumb over your clit rubbing circles around it. Your legs begin to tremble on his shoulders and you buck your hips begging him for more. You feel him smile against the inside of your thigh giving it a quick kiss. Then he grants you your wish and plunges his tongue into your core.

Your walls stretch and you gasp arching your back. He pumps his tongue in and out keeping his thumb over your clit. His stud rubs against your walls making moan louder and louder. Your legs tremble even faster than before and your hands fall onto the sofa gripping the cushion tightly. Sawyer pushes his tongue even deeper hitting you in just the right spot. You give a loud gasp and arch your back even more; if that was even possible. Your walls tighten and contract and you feel whatever control you had left shatter. You spill onto his tongue and he laps it up quickly, hungrily. Sawyer pops up from under your dress and looks down at you; this time he is the triumphant one.

Your hair is even more disheveled, your face is bright red, and your gasping for air. He brings his hand up to your cheek and leans down for one last kiss. He shoves his tongue in your mouth reclaiming the gum you stole. He sits back giving it a few chews and looks down at you with a smug smile.

“To be honest babe you taste much better than gum. Shall we take this to our room?”

Should I make a part 2? Let me know in the comment!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#yandere #smut #blowing bubblegum #fiction #fandom #fanfic #sawyer #yandereflower

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thothouse · 4 years ago

Text

@yandere-flower ...this radiates Sawyer energy, can you confirm?

my wife is struggling with her gardening and i go outside and ask is this guy bothering you and start punching the dirt

#precious himbo i would die to protect #sawyer yf

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montammil · 5 months ago

Text

June of Doom Day 25 - "I should have listened to you."

| Guilt | Backseat | Failure |

Characters: Rowan, Sawyer

Also kind of rushed and stuff, but I keep reminding myself this is a challenge, not something I need to be ultra perfectionist about lol.

Anyway, I thought it'd be fun if I showed Sawyer having a bit of stockholm syndrome since I usually give that to Marshall XD

CW: Yandere/creepy whumper, stockholm syndrome, dubcon touching (nothing inherently sexual), non-sexual nudity, mentioned branding

...

Sawyer didn't want to admit it, but after just two months of freedom, he was starting to regret his actions.

Rowan had been the source of most of his trauma, both physically and psychologically, and it was obvious that Rowan was as deranged as deranged got... but he didn't understand what he was doing was wrong. Rowan just needed help, and Sawyer learnt that his family had installed the idea in his mind that therapy would be a bad look on the Burnett name.

Each day, questions ran through his head. Would Rowan finally get the help he needs? Would Rowan continue searching for him until the day he's dead?

Would Rowan just find another person to replace Sawyer with?

As guilty as Sawyer felt for it, that question made him more upset than it should have, and for the wrong reasons. He was aware perhaps he had gotten a little stockholm syndrome during his time with Rowan, but he didn't think it was that bad.

Sometimes he felt comfort around Rowan... as long as he didn't get on his bad side, he could be such a nice guy. He'd bring him flowers, cook for him, spend a lot of time talking and laughing. He even played the piano for him.

At the same time, Sawyer couldn't let go of the fact that Rowan stalked him for god knows how long before he finally snatched him. Rowan burnt a brand into his flesh and held him hostage for four months.

The guilt was eating him alive. Guilt over something he knew he shouldn't feel.

It didn't help that he didn't even have a place to stay. His savings were almost depleted, and he knew he was close to getting kicked out of his apartment.

He was relying on his job at a fast food restaurant to support himself, but that didn't pay him enough to afford more than a week of groceries.

He wasn't thinking logically when he was fired for snapping at a rude customer. Sawyer never let his emotions get the best of him, but he was so tired and in a terrible mood that he let his filter go. He ended up getting into a screaming match, and was kicked out of the establishment.

Now, he had no idea what to do. He knew it was only a matter of days before he'd be out on the streets.

He couldn't exactly go back to his parents or sister. He didn't want to explain to them why he was in his situation. Plus, he would have to travel for days to even get back to the town he used to live in.

There was only one option he could see. He was depressed, about to be homeless, with no one who loves him.

Except Rowan.

Sawyer didn't realize how long he'd been sitting at the bus stop. It was late, past midnight. The streetlights were the only source of light in the pitch black of the night. He kept zoning in and out, unable to concentrate on anything. It felt like he was moving in slow motion.

He searched in Rowan's name, wondering if it'd come up. To his surprise, it did.

Rowan Burnett: Insurance Agent, 31, Oregon City. It was surreal seeing Rowan's name there on the screen, like he was just another ordinary person, leading an ordinary life.

He had no idea he was so successful, but that must've been due to his family's wealth. He clicked on his profile to see pictures of Rowan in suits, smiling for the camera, holding business meetings, attending charity events.

They were all from a year ago at latest. He hadn't updated since he met Sawyer.

The bus pulled up, breaking Sawyer out of his trance. He stepped on, shoving his wallet back in his pocket after handing the cash to the driver. He slumped down at a seat near the back.

He didn't know what he was thinking. Rowan was probably so furious with him, he was probably waiting for the opportunity to take Sawyer back and never let him go.

Yet in Rowan's absence, Sawyer learnt to miss his possessiveness. It was something he'd take to the grave, but he truly missed having someone who cared about him, someone who loved him, even if it was under the guise of obsession.

He remembered how to get there from his stop, his feet bringing him to the location instinctively. His memory still recalled the layout. He was thankful he remembered his escape route, which wasn't far away from Salem and another national forest.

It felt like a blur. Almost in a blink of an eye, he was outside the lake house. The lights were on, so it seemed Rowan was still up.

Sawyer hesitated. This was his last chance to turn back. And maybe Rowan wasn't even at the lake house. Maybe he was in his house in Oregon City, or even looking for him right now...

But his car was parked out front. Sawyer heard his heartbeat in his ears. This was stupid. He should've turned back, but he spent almost an hour walking all the way here. If he wanted to escape again, at least he now knew the way out.

That is, if Rowan ever gave him the opportunity to escape again.

He felt his hands reaching up to knock. Before he could stop himself, he was already rapping his knuckles against the oak door.

The sound resounded throughout the area. Sawyer held his breath, he didn't know what to expect. He hoped for the best, but that seemed too optimistic for him.

He heard the locks turning, and then the door cracked open. A familiar pair of lavender eyes appeared, widening when they saw him. It was silent.

The tension was so thick, he felt like he was going to suffocate.

"Sawyer...?" Rowan whispered. He let the door swing open, his mouth parted in shock. His hair was a mess, and his outfit was wrinkled. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. It was all an unusual look on him. He stepped forwards, and Sawyer noticed how his hand twitched. Rowan looked like he was unsure if Sawyer was really there.

Sawyer nodded, biting his lip. He let out a shaky breath. "I..." He looked away. "I shouldn't have run. I'm sorry." He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "You were right. No one cares about me, no one wants me. I should have listened to you."

He was expecting Rowan to yell, to scream, to even slap him. When Rowan raised his hand, he braced himself. Instead, Rowan gently cupped his cheek, lifting his gaze up.

His eyes were still wide, like he couldn't believe Sawyer was back in his arms. Sawyer hadn't once seen such a vulnerable look in his eyes. He was only gone for two months. He felt so ashamed. He had no real reason to return, yet here he was. He was pathetic.

Rowan pulled him into a hug. "My love," he exhaled. He hugged him tighter, as if Sawyer was going to disappear if he let go. "You came back to me. You really came back to me." He pushed Sawyer's bangs out of his face and looked down at him with an adoring smile.

Sawyer melted. He didn't know why, but it felt nice. He didn't have to hide anything, and he didn't have to pretend to be someone he wasn't.

Rowan guided him inside. He was still trembling, like he was holding himself back from touching Sawyer all over. Rowan shut the door behind them and locked it.

"I missed you," Sawyer admitted. He didn't know why he said that. It just slipped out, and he couldn't take it back now.

Rowan breathed out a sigh of relief. "I missed you so much, my darling. You don't know how hard it was to fall asleep without you beside me. I don't know how I managed it."

Sawyer normally would have rolled his eyes at how dramatic he was, but he found himself relating to the statement. The bed always felt so empty and cold without Rowan, he had gotten so used to sleeping by his side.

"But it doesn't matter anymore," he continued. "I have you, and you're staying. Right?"

"Yes," Sawyer replied. He didn't believe in his statement, not completely, but he knew Rowan wouldn't take no for an answer. "I want to stay with you. I'm yours."

Rowan grinned and kissed him roughly. "All mine." He kissed him again, his hands roaming over Sawyer's body. He kissed along his jaw and neck, humming against his skin.

Sawyer's heart was racing. He missed the way Rowan touched him. It wasn't a romantic touch, it was rough, dominating, and maybe that was the way he preferred it.

He let Rowan touch all over his body, only managing to ask, "Are you mad at me?"

He contemplated his words. "If I had to hunt you down--which I have tried-- I would've had you tied outside like a dog by now." Sawyer shivered at the thought. "But you willingly came back, and for that, I am beyond pleased. But if you dare even think about leaving again," he continued, voice dipping to a growl. He licked along his Adam's apple, sucking a bruise on it. "I'll have to get creative with my punishments. I don't need to do that, do I?"

Sawyer shook his head. "No, Rowan."

"Good. Now let's get you a bath, you smell like you haven't had one in months." He reached down to intertwine their fingers, leading him down the hall. "This is why you need me to take care of you, you never take care of yourself." He ushered Sawyer into the bathroom.

He waited patiently for him to finish drawing a bath, dumping soap and oils in it. He was soaking up the feeling of being back, Sawyer felt at peace. It felt wrong to feel that way, but he couldn't stop the thoughts.

Rowan began undressing Sawyer, kissing him every few seconds. He couldn't stop touching him. Given how lonely he imagined Rowan must've been without him, it made sense.

Sawyer subconsciously ran his fingers through Rowan's hair, and it caused him to grin ear to ear. Sawyer had never seen him look so blissful.

He entered the tub, watching Rowan get undressed as well. It wasn't the first time, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. He had no issues with it anymore. This was the routine he had gotten used to for several months, and it felt right. He sighed when he felt the warm water soak into his sore muscles. It was nice.

Rowan slid in the tub as well, pulling Sawyer in his lap. He wrapped his arms around him, peppering his shoulders and the back of his neck with kisses.

"You have a lot of freckles," Sawyer muttered. He ran his fingertips over his skin, tracing a few of the prominent ones.

"Do I? I never paid much attention to them." Rowan dipped his hand in the water. He reached over to grab a loofah, using it to wipe down Sawyer's back. "I was a mess when you were gone. It's funny, I even called in some family friends to look for you." He chuckled.

Sawyer tensed. "What?"

"It's okay, you don't have to worry your pretty little head about it," he assured. "I mean, you're so small. It was hard to imagine you managed to survive all by yourself. It's only reasonable I'd get worried for my soulmate's safety, right? It's such a cruel world, even you admitted that yourself." He set the loofah aside to grab shampoo and conditioner.

He decided to just ignore Rowan's earlier statement. He knew it was dangerous to prod for answers, especially with the topic of Rowan's hired men. It made him wonder what kind of family he had.

"Tilt your head back for me, please." Sawyer followed his command. Rowan poured water over his head.

He put shampoo in his palms and began scrubbing at Sawyer's scalp. He worked through his hair until it was free of knots, and then added conditioner. He made sure to get his body clean as well, washing the dirt off and admiring his handiwork.

"There. All clean." Rowan pulled him back against him again, resting his head on his shoulder.

Sawyer's eyelids felt heavy. He leaned into Rowan, already feeling drowsy. He closed his eyes and just focused on the feeling of the water surrounding him.

Next thing he knew, he was dressed in silk pajamas and being carried to bed. He was half awake, but couldn't manage to open his eyes. Rowan placed him on the mattress, but Sawyer refused to let him go. He hugged him around his waist. "Stay with me."

If he could see Rowan's expression, he knew it'd be on the verge of tears. The bed dipped, and Sawyer was wrapped in a firm embrace. He nuzzled his face in the crook of his captor's neck. He'd regret this, but that was an issue for tomorrow.

For tonight, he just wanted to get lost in Rowan's affections. He didn't feel so alone when he was with Rowan.

"I love you," Rowan breathed out. His grip tightened. "I love you so much."

"I know. I love you too."

And maybe, if only just for this one night, he really did mean it.

#rowan oc #sawyer oc #june of doom #june of doom 2024 #june of doom day 25 #day 25 #whump #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #male whumper #whumper x whumpee #whumpee x whumper #whump writing #nonsexual nudity #tw stockholm syndrome #tw noncon touching

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nais-nook · 4 years ago

Text

Sawyer - Pt 3

(Hey there! You may be liking/reblogging something without links to new pieces I may have written for this character, just letting you know in case you’re interested in reading more!)

Imagine writing a Sawyer part but he doesn’t show up. That’s so like Sawyer lmao. I promise he shall return. Sawyer belongs to @yandere-flower

~***~

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: You get rescued, though the person who landed you in this predicament is nowhere to be found.

Pairing: Male x Female Reader.

Words: 2402.

Warnings: Kidnapping, Swearing, Violence (and Blood).

Your fingers were numb, and yet you still felt the burn in your wrist and the thousands upon thousands of pin pricks running up and down your arms. The strained muscles in your back and legs let you know you had been in this position for longer than anyone should, and despite your body begging for release, the restraints that held you wouldn’t budge. You couldn’t see anything, not with the damp strip of whatever it was wrapped tightly around your eyes.

In the darkness you could make out vague whispers - one distinctly nasally, alongside a much gruffer and scratchier voice. Whether the stale stench of cigarettes and alcohol was coming from them or not, you didn’t know. There was a scuff of boots. What you could only assume was broken glass was scraped aside along the floor, then the scrap of material was ripped off your face.

You winced, eyes watering as they adjusted to the harsh light spilling in from the ajar door. Your years of training did not help as bile began to rise in your throat, burning and bitter. The beat of your heart grew so intense it was all you could do to not focus on it.

The man crouching in front of you was tan, with greying hair and wrinkles to match.

“Where’s the white-haired Japanese prick?”

You were taken aback, expecting him to be the one that sounded like he smoked a pack a day. He was the nasally sounding one, speaking as if he had a stuffy nose.

“I - what?”

He moved in extremely close. You tried not to gag. “What, you don’t speak English, sweetheart?”

Sawyer. They were definitely talking about Sawyer. Why were you being asked about Sawyer?

“I- I’m sorry, I-”

Before you could utter another word, something metal was pressed against your temple. You were suddenly very conscious of every slight movement you made, of the air being sucked out of the room. Cold dread ran rampant in your veins.

Calm, calm, panicking won’t help you.

It was much easier thought than done.

“Where. Is. The tattooed dude. With the piercings. You know who we’re talking about.”

“Sawyer.” The lanky one standing in the doorway spoke. “Cauley.”

“Who’s that?”

Lies, lies, all lies. The smell of the room suffocated you. Rust and damp and foul. Your legs trembled, against your will.

“Listen girly,” the thing at your temple pressed harder, “don’t act stupid. We know you patched him up after he had a scrap in that alleyway.”

The man at the door sighed, picking at the glass of its shattered window. “We just need to know where he is. We’ll leave you alone after that, alright?”

Even if they were telling the truth, and they would let you go after you told them, you had nothing to tell them. Sawyer had made good on his promise to never see you again, so the fact that these people even knew you were barely associated would have been baffling. If you weren't so terrified, that was.

“I don’t know,” you answered, voice shaking despite your honesty.

“Try again.”

It was a blade pressed against you, and the bastard holding it had drawn blood. Searing pain ripped across your skin. You almost retched. You hoped and prayed at the very least the blade was clean.

Your words tumbled out, each one more frantic than the last. “I swear, I don’t. I patched him up and he left. He could be halfway across the world by now for all I know.”

“See the thing is, we have a score to settle.”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand.”

The blade travelled from your temple to your neck, its tip dragging along your skin. You leaned back as far as you could. From the glimpse you caught, the blade wasn’t rusted, but you knew that meant jack shit on whether it was actually clean.

“Someone very important died because of Sawyer.” The older man mumbled.

“W-what? Who?”

He pressed the knife right up against your carotid artery. Tears blurred your vision. “Ah, see, you’re not privy to that information.”

“I’m telling you I have no idea where he is.”

The one fiddling with the broken glass looked straight at you. “He didn’t say anything, hm? Didn’t send anything?”

He had sent you something. Flowers. But the address on that was probably fake, assuming Sawyer had some working brain cells left in that head of his.

A hand wrapped around your throat and you flew into a blind panic.

“Flowers. He sent me flowers, but I threw away the card, I don’t know where it is.”

The gangly man nodded; eyes fixed on a point you couldn’t discern. “So, he did survive after you were done with him. Interesting.”

They… thought he had died? They thought he had died. You just told them he was alive and well.

Shit, shit, shit -

“So -”

A loud thump echoed throughout the room, its source right outside the door. You didn’t want another stranger walking into the room, not when you were so close to passing out. The room tilted.

The gangly one at the door slipped what looked to be a gun from his belt (a terrible place to keep a gun, really). It did nothing to stop the person outside from barrelling in and completely knocking him out in a matter of seconds. The man who was previously holding a knife to your neck seemingly manifested a gun out of nowhere and pointed it at… Thomas?

It was Thomas.

You flinched, expecting a gunshot to tear right through Thomas’ chest. Instead the bullet that pierced the air came from the hallway and landed squarely in your captive’s shoulder. His cry was shrill in your ears, but even that couldn’t distract you from the sight that was Ambrose, her hair tied back and face ghastly as she stalked in. She landed a stomp on the man's head. He fell silent.

“Hey.” It was Thomas, fiddling with the restraints around your wrists. “You okay?”

“No,” you choked. From the corner of your eye you witnessed Ambrose drag the taller of the two unconscious men through the door and shattered glass. You could have broken down into tears right then and there. From fear and relief.

Thomas stopped for a moment, and he pressed his forehead against yours. You felt a little more at ease when he whispered, “You don’t have to be.”

Your wrists were rubbed raw and your joints cracked when you were helped up. You nearly toppled over at the sudden chorus of gunfire and yelling from below.

“Sorry about your ankles hun, but you’re going to have to run.” Ambrose frowned, head tilting towards the direction of the hallway.

“Run?”

Thomas stroked your hair back, face shrouded with sympathy. “I’d carry you, but that would just make both of us a bigger target.”

“Don’t fret, Tommy and I’ll be right next to you.”

Ambrose swivelled her foot right as someone tried to barge through the door, flipping them effortlessly into a pile of crumpled beer cans. With a swift kick of her steel toed boots the man went still. Immediately she reached for you, fingers wrapping around your upper arm and steered you down the hall. You didn’t miss how she completely avoided your damaged wrists.

It was darker. Much darker than the room you were tied in moments ago, and you had to hold onto Ambrose with your aching fingers to steady yourself. Ambrose approached the end of the hallway, the dim glow revealing a set of stairs. The fighting was deafening here. Gunshots and shouts reverberated through the narrow passage as you struggled to keep your breathing steady. Thomas, who had been padding behind, silently advanced in front of you, giving a hand signal you didn’t understand before creeping down the stairs.

“I know.” Ambrose gave your arm a little squeeze. “Just pretend you’re at some sort of intensive surgery. Nothing will happen if you do what we say, okay?”

“Okay…”

The faint light from the stairwell made Ambrose’s face look younger, softer. And then you remembered she wasn’t that much older than you to begin with. What caused her to fall into such a violent line of work, you didn’t know. Maybe if you both got out of this alive you would ask her.

Tentatively, you stepped down the stairs, wincing at the spike of pain that shot up your leg as you placed weight on your ankles. Ambrose’s arm was immediately at your waist, and she supported you as best she could down the uneven steps. As you got closer you could pick out the thump of things being thrown amongst the yelling. Thomas was crouching on the bottom step, face serious.

Ambrose drew you closer still, her voice hushed as she said, “Listen, we’re gonna have to do some running and ducking, okay? Just don’t let go of me.” Thomas threw up another hand sign before disappearing into the fray. “We just gotta wait for a little while.”

A little while is probably what it was, but it felt like the moment stretched on for an eternity. Then, out of nowhere, three shots rang out in the mess, clear as day. Ambrose didn’t say a word, jerking you forward so roughly you nearly tripped over yourself.

A warehouse - you were in a warehouse, dodging and weaving through gargantuan shipment crates as Ambrose pushed and pulled you through bits of debris and rubbish. You couldn’t take it all in even if you tried. You caught a glimpse of Thomas in the corner, wrestling someone carrying switchblades. Gasps of moon rays filtered through the broken beams in the ceiling.

“Eyes forward (Y/n), you’re going to fall,” Ambrose hissed, pressing you flush against a metal container as someone was thrown right past you both. Whether they were friend or foe you were unsure.

The noise was giving you a headache amongst other things, and if it weren’t for the adrenaline and Amrbose’s insistent tugging you could have fallen asleep right there. Exhausting was seeping into your veins like you were on a drip. It felt like a miracle when Ambrose was able to steer you to a door, before shoving you through it.

“Get into a car, any of the grey ones, hurry.”

The door was flung shut.

Why, why, why -

Why were they risking everything to come and get you? You did nothing for them. You had nothing to give them.

Something heavy slammed against the other side of the door. You could barely hear the sound of your soles hitting the pavement over the noise as you scrambled to the cars, climbing into the nearest one.

“... Riley?”

The door wasn’t even shut properly before the tyres squealed and the car jerked forwards. You clung to everything and anything. Every turn of the car caused you to lurch against the seats and doors.

“Get your belt on!” He veered right. Hard. “Did you not hear me?!”

“I’m trying!”

You finally managed to clip the buckle in just as he swerved right again.

“Riley you’re going to kill me!”

“Shut the fuck up, or I will kill you on purpose!”

A digital ringing resounded in the car. Riley’s hand shot out, grabbing one of the many mobiles strapped to the dashboard. You saw his mouth move in the rear-view mirror but could barely hear the words spoken over the roar of the engine and tyres.

“Oi, (Y/n),” he yelled, giving you a passing glance in the mirror, “hold on to something.”

What?

If you were finding it difficult to keep your insides where they belonged before, you were definitely struggling now. Riley paid no mind to the speed bumps dotted along the road, skidded around corners at a speed you knew was illegal, and even forced the car down narrow alleyways.

“Riley! Why are you driving like a maniac?!”

“I’m trying to get you to the drop off point!”

“Drop off point?!”

You barely managed to process what he said as you were flung right against the window. You caught a flash of the menacing smile plastered onto Riley’s face as he gripped the wheel and gear stick in terrifying confidence.

He yelled over the engine, “Listen, we’re hitting a tunnel soon, and you’re gonna have to jump!”

“What?!”

Your head was spinning.

“As soon as I tell you to go, you fling that door open as far as it goes, and you fucking jump!”

“I’ve never done anything like that before! I’m going to die!”

“Well, if we get caught, we’re both fucking dead!”

This is it, you thought, mind a flurry of too many things with too little time to sort them out. I’m going to actually die, and my family will have no idea where I went or who took me or -

Cars identical to the one you were strapped in tailing behind Riley’s erratic driving. Your car slowed down slightly as it entered a tunnel, plunging you into darkness. Your heart lurched in your throat.

A hand on your leg pulled you out of your panicked stupor. Riley’s green eyes were lit up by the lights on the dashboard. He stared at you in the mirror, his face deathly calm. The world quietened down immediately.

“You open the door as far as it goes, you jump at an angle away from the car - there’ll be a grassy patch so the landing won’t be as rough - and then you pull all your limbs in and roll. Land on your shoulder if you can. You’ll be fine.”

And then all the sounds came crashing back.

“Someone will pick you up, just hide near the entrance of the tunnel until they arrive! Ready?!”

“No, I’m not,” you whispered, hands shaking like mad as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Wait for it.”

Your knuckles blanched as you gripped the handle.

“Now!”

You flung yourself out of the car.

You could have sworn you heard something crack as you landed on your shoulder. Your skin was on fire as you skidded across the grass. You pulled back just as the grey cars sped by, one after another.

And despite being exhausted to the brink of collapsing, you still managed to drag yourself to hide in the shadows on the tunnel.

All that was left to do was wait.

#i love how sawyer int here lmao #I swear he is doing very important tm stuff #he will be there in the next part #i just needed to transition and set of a few things 👀#nais nook #sawyer #part 3 #sawyer pt 3 #yandere flower #reader insert #yandere

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