#cw violent dolls

[elf-simp]

It's a system now, intertwined Take your place in the line to be ground by the gears of the masterpiece Betrayal

What I've become - Lamb of God

[quill-n]

(written with your Living Doll AU in mind, didn't feel right to post it since it isn't technically mine, so here ya go.) *drops this like a bomb and runs away*

“Tsunagu?” Shinya asks through the door, rapping his knuckles on the old ancient wood. “Do you have a spare moment?” Shinya opens the door and pokes his head inside. Tsunagu has his head on his crafts table as if he’s fallen asleep while trying to work, but stirs at the sound of Shinya’s voice.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I saw the light and thought….” Shinya trails off, feeling foolish. “Sorry, I’ll let you sleep.”

Four spider-like eyes blink at him through the demure light of the lantern, and Tsunagu’s words stop him from leaving the room. “What did you need, Shinya?”

“Oh! Ah, haha,” Shinya chuckles nervously and scratches the back of his head, and Tsunagu already notices the problem before Shinya says it; the threading around his mouth is undone again. “My stitches are messed up and, I can’t find the hand mirror?”

“I’ll fix them, it’s no trouble,” Tsunagu says, bidding Shinya to sit as he reaches for his sewing kit. As he sits, Shinya notices an open book on Tsunagu’s desk that Tsunagu must been reading before succumbing to sleep. It’s flipped to an herbal remedy, and guilt pricks at Shinya like a thorn. He should be diverting Tsunagu’s attention from trying to save that human boy, but damn him if he doesn’t love Tsunagu’s attention.

Gentle fingers guide him to look to his right, and butterflies flutter in his stomach as the touch lingers, tilting Shinya’s head up so Tsunagu can have a better view. A clawed finger—or is it just a pointed nail?—brushes over the tear in his flesh and he shudders at the feeling. There’s always a sort of inexplicable sensation when Tsunagu touches him as if his undead skin is reacting to Tsunagu’s spirit energy. He’s not sure if Tsunagu can feel it too, or if it’s something only the dolls can feel, but a blush rises and he adverts his eyes.

A small smile tugs at Tsunagu’s lips as he eyes the tattered string still in the tear. The broken edges are too clean to be anything but intentionally cut, perhaps with the scissors from Shinya’s own sewing kit.

He gently plucks the cut threads free, then begins sewing the tears with fresh navy thread. His stitching is as seamless as ever, after a lifetime of tailoring, it’s effortless and somewhat calming to him now. He never minds fixing up his dolls when they break, especially Shinya, although, fixing Rumi and Keigo does annoy him from time to time, and sometimes he just wants to sew their mouths shut to stop them from bickering.

Tsunagu tries to stitch through the holes already present but Tsunagu has no fear that Shinya’s in any pain. Being dead, their pain receptors don’t function as they used to, but they can feel the uncomfortable sensation when something foreign enters their skin, like when you get pricked with a needle but the nurse can’t find a vein and just digs around for one.

Shinya wants to lean into Tsunagu’s touch, close his eyes and enjoy the moment, but Tsunagu would probably judge and question the action, so he turns his gaze to Tsunagu’s face instead. His eyes are focused on his work, each movement slow and controlled as he takes his grand old time to do things right. Or perhaps he’s taking his time so he can enjoy the moment for as long as possible? A cute, self-indulging, hopeful thought that warms his heart, but is utterly false.

“Where’s Rumi and Keigo?” Tsunagu murmurs.

“They went out to find something edible for our new friends,” Shinya answers not thinking much of it, but a fond huff from Tsunagu has his eyebrows scrunching in question. “What?”

“I was just thinking of the Christmas cake you tried to make me one year.” Shinya’s face turns to a scowl in rapid time, and Tsunagu laughs, though Shinya’s change of expression forces him to pause in his work.

That cake, if you could even call that inedible monstrosity a cake, was made about a year and a half before they died. He’d tried to recreate his mother’s old recipe for it and completely missed the mark. “That’s hardly an example of edible food.”

“Indeed, but it’s a pleasant memory, now stop moving if you please. Thank you.” Tsunagu prods Shinya to look the other way and begins working again. They continue reminiscing, talking about nothing in particular and Tsunagu is grateful for the distraction. He has no idea how to help Bakugou, and he’s been running himself ragged trying to figure out how to help, which he should be doing now, but the break is welcome and it eases his stress.

Tsuangu finishes much sooner than he or Shinya would’ve liked. Tsunagu wants nothing more than to stay here with Shinya and forget about his troubles for a little while longer, the time already eclipsed seems too short.

He trails a finger over the new stitches “Do they feel okay?”

“Yeah,” Shinya affirms. “good as new.”

“Good, then I suppose we’re done.”

“Uhh, wait, could you, uh,” Shinya flushes, his voice becoming meek and quiet. “could you check the stitching on my tongue too? I-I think I felt it loosening a bit ago.”

“Did you?” Tsunagu asks, not at all believing that, but fully willing to indulge his little doll as he attempts to play his not-so-subtle mind game. “Let me see?”

Shinya obediently opens his mouth to let Tsunagu check for the nonexistent loose threads. He slips two fingers into Shinya’s mouth, his mind flashing to a very different thing he could slide into his doll’s willing mouth, and Shinya unknowingly echoes a similar thought, his breath hitching. Tsunagu gently raises Shinya’s tongue to look under it but finds nary a stitch out of place. Which is exactly what he expected.

“The stitching looks perfect.” Tsunagu retracts his fingers, and Shinya mourns the loss but closes his mouth and swallows back the building saliva. Tsunagu grabs some spare cloth he’d been meaning to turn into a towel before certain recent events transpired and wipes the saliva off his hand.

“Sorry, must’ve been my imagination then.” Shinya lies.

“There’s no remorse needed for cautiousness,” Tsunagu says, turning to put his needle and thread back where they belong.

“Oh, well, thank you for indulging me.” Shinya murmurs, looking for any reason he could stay. He’s already taken up enough of Tsunagu’s time, and he knows that since Tsunagu is done patching him up he should leave, but he doesn’t want to. He wants Tsunagu to himself a bit more.

“Of course, Shinya. I’m happy to indulge you.” Tsunagu’s voice sounds pleased and a bit teasing as he speaks and he makes sure everything is neatly squared away, then glances at the open book with a frown—he’s studied it for hours and has yet to glean any useful information from it—and shuts it.

Their companionable silence is short-lived, however, as a very panic-stricken Aizawa barges into the room unannounced, and Shinya frowns at the sight of him, already knowing what’s about to happen.

“Hakamata-san!” Aizawa all but shouts, and Tsunagu whips around, his heart sinking. Back to work. “It’s Bakugou, he’s…”

“Show me.” Tsuangu’s already rising from his chair, and he follows Aizawa out of the room, casting Shinya a regretful look as he passes, his sharp fingertips flighting across his shoulder.

Shinya’s heart flutters at the touch, and an anger-fueled jealousy bubbles from his core, anger at Bakugou for getting hurt so badly, for Aizawa stealing Tsunagu away from him and monopolizing all his attention. And, selfishly, he wishes it were just them like it was in the beginning, before all the other dolls.

The bone-deep chill of guilt chases his anger away leaving a hollow cave in his heart, and he instantly feels horrible for even thinking such things. it’s not Bakugou’s fault for getting hurt, nor Aizawa’s for helping him.

I’m acting like a child having a temper tantrum when his mother forces him to share his toys. I should be doing something useful, not… not this.

He eyes the book on the table, it must’ve come from the library. Perhaps he should check the library too, it’d give him something to do at least.

OH

OH MY GOD? OH MY GOD OH MY GOD???? (positive)

I kept almost-dropping my phone while I was reading this because I'm SHAKING FROM EXCITEMENT

hold on—

^ artist's rendition of my actual reaction to this

I seriously can't get over this— you wrote their dynamic SO PERFECTLY I'm

AaAAHDHHJGJJJJ (positive)

I am *so honored* to have such good writing done for my au— THANK YOU SO MUCH!! (genuine; very excited)

[moechies]

toji ♡ crybaby pt. 2 cw ddlg themes

“m-m a big girl.”

you sniffle away sobs, forearm sliding across your glassy eyes, wiping your tears.

“yeah y’are. doin’ so good for daddy, hm?”

“yes..!”

“mm, daddy’s so proud of you.”

and he swears he feels your cunt clench around him. your pussy squelches with each thrust, every thrust puffing out pearlescent juices of your cum. you’re far past your limit, but your drive to please the man makes the pain inevitable.

“n’more cryin’ baby. big girls take it without cryin,’ right?”

“i-i can’t, f-feels too good t-toji, i— can’t, daddy—“

“shh, daddy’s got ya.” he giggles. you’re so amusing, he thinks. how a fragile little doll such as you, was one to become so infatuated with a man like him.

he’s a tank of a man. body roughed up and filled with scars he couldn’t tell you where he got them from, face as stoic as can be. anyone who dared to look in his direction was met with either a scoff, or a brutal death. he’s vile, and violent, but not with you; no, not with you.

how you manage to get so overwhelmed over some dick.. god it makes him dizzy. he understands to an extent how good it may feel, but you’re just.. different. and it drives him crazy.

“daddy— i love you. love you, please—“

and no. neither of you know what you’re begging for so desperately. but your sweetness, your vulnerability, it makes him want to protect you, to hold you, to love you with everything he has.

“g’nna cum daddy..! pleasepleaseplease let me— please.!”

“hah.. such a good fuckin’ girl. go’head baby, good girls always get to cum.”

[ellecdc]

hello darling! I was wondering if I could request poly! marauders where they come home late or something and she’s asleep, but they discover her cuddling a stuffed animal for the first time and she gets all shy and embarassed but they think it’s adorable!!!

I have this stuffed animal I’ve had since I was little and as a 24 year I still cuddle him.

totally didn't write this based off of the little stuffed toy I still have on my bed.......

Scout's Honour

poly!marauders x fem!reader who still sleeps with a stuffed animal

CW: boys are maybe tipsy when they get home, reader feels shy and insecure for a second, Sirius makes that horrible Sirius/serious joke, James x Sirius get frisky at the end but nothing described

Up until this point, Remus felt as though he had done a pretty good job keeping the boys quiet in their trek to the bedroom.

All that effort was for naught, it seemed, as Remus grimaced whilst he watched Sirius basically belly-flop face first onto the mattress, causing you to be jostled - quite violently - awake.

“What the-?” You gasped; eyes darting around nervously before they landed on your three boyfriends.

But no sooner had your face relaxed did you look alarmed again before quickly readjusting the blankets around you. 

“You okay, dovey?” Remus asked then. “Sorry for waking you.” He added, pointedly glaring at his long-haired boyfriend who looked quite pleased at his plans of having all of his partners awake at once come to fruition. 

“S’okay.” You responded; vowels and consonants running together as your mouth tried to keep up with the speed at which your brain was functioning. 

“Outside clothes, Jamie.” Remus quickly chided then as James tried to sneak under the covers to join you.

This seemed to perk you up for some reason, and unfortunately for you, not one of the boys missed the way your hand darted nervously under the blankets.

“My, my, what were you up to?” Sirius taunted salaciously, eyes immediately moving towards his ‘favourite’ bedside drawer.

“She was asleep, Pads.” James slurred as he nearly fell in his attempt to free himself from his jeans.

“Yes, until someone so rudely woke her.” Remus added.

Sirius did appear to go bashful then, turning to look at you apologetically. “Sorry, doll.”

“But if you’re not- fuck, if you’re not hiding something fun.” James interrupted himself as he tripped over nothing before he finally weaselled his way under the covers. “What are you hiding?”

“M’not hiding anything.” You argued petulantly, looking at Remus as you answered James’ question as if he would somehow protect you from further questioning.

And though Remus could protect you from further questioning, he had to admit he found himself just as curious. 

“It’s a surprise for me, isn’t it?” Sirius queried haughtily then as he changed into his pyjamas. 

“It’s not for you.” You groaned; sleep-addled brain not capturing that you sort of gave away that you were, indeed, hiding something. 

“What d’you have there, dovey?” Remus asked finally, moving to stand above you on your side of the bed and tipping your head back so he could press a kiss to your lips. 

You brought your hands up to hold Remus’ wrists as you reciprocated the kiss, but made a reluctant sound in the back of your throat when he wouldn’t let you turn and look away from him. 

“Oh my goodness!” James shrilled then, causing both you and Remus to turn your attention to your slightly tipsy boyfriend who was now holding a tiny plush dog in his hands. “She’s so cute!”

“James!” You shrieked; tearing yourself from Remus’ hold as you made for James.

For as uncoordinated as James had been mere moments ago, the sight of you lunging at him seemed to reawaken some dormant muscle memory from his time on the school rugby team as he hastily tossed the toy to Sirius. 

Sirius - not prepared in the slightest for a game of catch at such an hour of the morning - let it hit him in the side of the head before it fell unceremoniously to the ground. He quickly collected it though and moved behind Remus in hopes of protection from you as he inspected the worn and well-loved looking toy. 

“Is this a stuffie?” Sirius asked then, turning the plush dog to examine it. “Babe, that’s so cute!”

“Give it here.” You demanded; eyes wild, now fully awake as you stared at Sirius imploringly. 

“But-”

“Sirius, please.”

“Dovey.” Remus began cautiously, bending at the waist in an attempt to make eye contact with you. “Hey, dove.” He continued when you didn’t respond. 

You reluctantly pulled your gaze away from Sirius in order to appease Remus. 

“We’re not making fun of you.”

“Yes you are.” You whispered miserably, causing any teasing from James and Sirius to drop immediately. 

“Nonono.” James chanted as he army crawled his way across the bed to you. “M’so sorry, angel. I was making fun, but I wasn’t trying to make fun of.” 

“I wasn’t lying, doll; I really do think this is so cute.” Sirius added.

You didn’t seem to agree, however, when your bottom lip jutted out and your shoulders slumped.

“Baby.” James moaned sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

You reluctantly leaned into James’ side as he all but draped himself over you. 

“Dove, why have we never seen this before?” Remus asked as he took the pilfered toy from Sirius’ hands and inspected it himself. 

“‘Cause it’s embarrassing.” You moaned. 

“It’s cute.” Sirius argued.

“It’s childish.” You countered. 

“It’s human, sweetheart.” Remus declared before handing the plush dog back to you. “I still have my teddy from when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, packed up in a box somewhere.” You deadpanned.

“That’s only because he roomed in a dorm with three boys back in school who would’ve razzed him mercilessly for it.” Sirius offered.

“Yeah, and now I’m sleeping with them.” You responded as you looked down at the plush in your hands. 

“Who have grown and matured, surely; you wouldn’t be sleeping with them otherwise.” Sirius said as he sat at the end of your bed and nudged your knee with his. 

“What’s her name?” Remus asked then as he nodded to the aged stuffed animal. 

You glared half-heartedly at him in response. 

“I’m serious, dove-” Remus started before catching himself none-too-quickly.

“No, I’m Sirius.” Sirius cut in; smiling proudly as his three partners glared at him. 

Remus sucked in an exasperated yet loving breath as he turned his attention back to you. “This little thing was - is - obviously important to you; so what’s her name?”

You sighed in defeat as you turned it over in your hand. “It’s a him.” You corrected petulantly. 

“Terrible sorry, good sir.” James offered graveley; nodding his head so deep that he nearly lost his glasses. 

You breathed out a chuckle as you looked up shyly. “His name’s Scout.” You offered in a whisper; your answer being rewarded by cooing from your boyfriend’s.

“That’s so cute.” James repeated.

“I can’t believe you’ve loved another man before me.” Sirius teased with an unimpressed shake of his head. “And he’s been in my home this whole time?”

You turned bashful again and looked at Sirius timidly. “Erm, I’ve sort of been hiding him between the mattress and boxspring.” 

Remus threw his head back in laughter as he finally had an answer as to why your side of the bed was so lumpy.

“Another man!? In my bed!?” Sirius teased as he clutched at non-existing pearls. “And you didn’t even introduce us!?” 

“For shame, angel.” James added with a disappointed shake of his head. “I know the bed is small, but there was certainly room for one more.” He continued as he booped ‘Scout’s’ nose with the tip of his finger. 

“That’s right.” Remus agreed readily as he stood to change into his own pyjamas. “No more hiding that cutie from us sweet girl.” 

“Yeah, I already like him more than Sirius.” James joked, earning him a scolding ‘hey!’ from both you and Remus and an indignant scoff from Sirius before Sirius bodily tackled him on the bed. 

“That’s not what you were saying last night there, handsome!” Sirius laughed as he jabbed his fingers into James’ ribs where he was most ticklish. “Take it back!”

“No!” 

“Tell me you love me!”

“I love Scout more!”

“You little-” Sirius started, but he never got to finish when he pulled his boyfriend into a searing kiss.

What had started out as laughter and playful wrestling was quickly becoming heated and then bordering pornographic when you turned to look at Remus who was simply watching in exasperation.

“Should you, me, and Scout have a cwtch on the couch, dove?” 

You chuckled as you gathered a throw blanket and Scout from the bed, and trotted out the door with Remus as you left your boyfriends to tire each other out. 

Remus really couldn't imagine the four of you making room for another again, but he was more than happy to share you with Scout and he knew the same could be said for Sirius and James.

[hatchetno1]

frustration and anger.

creepypasta/mh x reader in which they get frustrated or angry, or, in BEN's case, are frustrating themselves. word count: 2.1k cw: abuse, descriptions of anger, arguments/quarrelling.

EJ

EJ doesn’t often get angry.

in fact, it’s hard to even frustrate him. Even when faced with particularly difficult patients to suture up—ahem, Jeff— he shows no sign of being fazed.

well, perhaps that’s because he’s used to living with Jeff and his reckless, barbaric antics.

but when he does get frustrated, it’s like a gradual intensification.

you like to split his frustration into three phases.

phase 1: EJ starts to seem a little off. Quieter than usual, less responsive, and more distant. Almost as if he’s in his own world, deceptively peaceful.

phase 2: EJ starts to show actual signs of being frustrated. You notice that it is at this point he may start to snap lightly at others, but with you, he tries his best to keep it to a minimum.

phase 3 is the climax before the drop. On occasion, he may raise his voice slightly and openly express irritation. But he always drops, hard and fast.

“I am so sorry, Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispers, rubbing circles gently on your back. Though he has to bend over quite a bit (he’s a gentle giant at a height of 6’6 or about 2 meters), you find it to be very soothing that his frame envelops the entirety of yours.

oh, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of getting angry.

no, the anger you heard in his voice was undeniable as he roared at another member of the household to stay the fuck away from you.

you’d startled at the sheer sound of it, and quickly those trembles descended into violent shaking as you cried—his roar was simply not…human.

you flinched as he picked you up, just as gently as was the anger intense in that dreaded noise he made, a stark contrast in behavior, a jarring change in your body, mind and soul.

but other than that, you knew your darling EJ was back.

he plopped you onto his bed, surrounded by his sweet yet musky scent, nuzzling your neck and your face.

“I’m sorry”s were whispered countless times in your ear that night as you dozed off in the safety of his arms.

jeff

gotta put a trigger warning on this one. you know what to expect, but just in case you don’t, TW: Jeff is literally a murderer with abusive tendencies and anger issues.

at the start of your relationship, Jeff had been…well, to say the least, not the best partner.

he often got mad at you, whether it be keeping him waiting or spilling a cup of water.

yeah. spilling a cup of water.

but you understood why he was the way he was. he just couldn’t help it. but that didn’t mean you were going to stick around for it, no matter how much you loved him.

one day after a particularly huge argument, you found him crying in his room. his sniffles were unmistakable, but you knew you’d have to pretend you hadn’t heard from ten feet away.

turns out, angsty little Jeff here wasn’t completely unaware of himself.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he had sobbed as quietly as he could. “I know I’m a bad boyfriend, I know, I keep lashing out at you and I’m so sorry.”

your relationship could have very well ended that day if you hadn’t found Jeff crying on the floor.

but even though he’d hurt you so many times, you took him back into your arms.

and so you taught him to manage his anger, though it took you immense effort, energy and bravery.

he’d always help, though, by reminding you it was okay to yell back at him. you chided him lightly for it, saying that it’d just cause a back and forth.

“oh, right. my bad. sorry, doll,” he had said with a sheepish grin.

today, you are proud to boast that you trained your bloodhound boyfriend to be a tame dog. hell, he even does whatever you tell him to now, albeit sometimes reluctantly.

but he understands that if he loves you, he must make sacrifices upon sacrifices. you did that for him.

now it is his turn to sacrifice himself for you.

masky - tim

it’s not really uncommon that Tim gets angry.

but his anger is almost always the quiet kind.

he will “hmph” and huff lightly, a mild kind of anger you both can still joke about, though his face will redden at it.

you can’t help it though, the sass he gives you when he’s lightly frustrated is too good to let slip past.

oh, but when his anger gets loud—

it’s no longer a harmless little nip.

it’s been directed everywhere. everywhere, his teammates, the table, the card game he’s losing a bit too embarrassingly to Toby who’s being an unbearable little ass about it.

but never you.

okay, it was one time.

but Tim decided it was one time too many. (as he should)

he’d raised his voice at you, more so out of frustration rather than anger.

and you flinched.

and oh, how that little flinch broke his heart.

he shut up immediately, gathering you into his arms, whispering “oh, I’m so sorry, darling”, and “you’re okay, you’re okay”.

he never did it again. ever.

now, when you both get angry at each other, it always devolves into stupid little giggles and kicking.

hoodie - brian

Brian doesn’t really get angry, nor does he get frustrated.

normally, at least.

something shines in his eyes when he is defied, a shadow of a grin, a curl of the lip—

you spend a couple days investigating this, defying him little by little.

“Y/N, could you pass me the water?” “No.” and you’d say it with a cheeky smile on your face to match this strange expression on his.

it evolved into much greater things, “Y/N, come over here for a bit.” “Nope!”

“Y/N, help me up.” “Nope!”

your gleeful defiance doesn’t have a complete zero effect, either. with each silly little “nope”, the glint in his eyes grows brighter. and you know that the cup you’ve slowly been filling the past few days is about to overflow.

it’s one fateful day that you happily defy him once again, and—

oh. something’s grabbing at your jaw, and your lover’s face is so close to yours.

he smiles so gently at you, so purely. but his grip on your jaw says otherwise.

firm like iron, reprimanding, but not harmful or venomous. you know he isn’t going to hurt you, but oh, he isn’t letting you go either.

“Y/N,” he says calmly. “You’ve been a little more uncooperative than usual.”

the shiver it sends down your spine isn’t one of fear. excitement, rather.

he lets you go, but guides you to the bed. “Sit,” he commands.

so you do. what else are you to do when your lover commands you so well?

“Good girl.”

so you never say no to him again, not when it comes to harmless favors.

Brian does not get angry or frustrated…at least, not like the normal person does.

toby

Toby becomes a very bitter cynic when upset, spitting sarcasm wherever he goes.

his BPD only makes it worse. his relationship with Tim is already strained as it is, with the latter trying his best (as much as a man with anger issues can), and his relationship with Brian being almost entirely carried by the older man.

and his relationship with you, oh his sweet vogel, his darling dove— he doesn’t know what to think of it. some days he lets loose around you, tickling you and blowing raspberries against your cheeks, and others he’s withdrawn, curled up into a ball in his bed, and so you dive in with him, nuzzling him against his sheets long overdue for a change.

but if it’s neither of those, he’s lashing out. sometimes you can’t even look at him when he walks into the room bringing dark clouds over the atmosphere. that’s when you know you can’t look up at him.

and when you make the mistake of looking up, your smile meets a scowl.

“what are you looking at.” he’ll spit, and then storm off, as if he can’t stand your eyes on him.

and it’s true, your eyes gaze at him with such gentleness, he can’t bring himself to stare back sometimes. especially when he’s in a bad mood, because he breaks inside as he sees his own eyes burn the love in your eyes, reducing them to ashes of fear.

“vogel,” he’d whisper at night, lying next to you in your bed. “i’m sorry.”

he apologizes so much and so often you no longer make a big deal out of it, but this time, his soft whisper is laced with such heavy guilt, your arms move before your mind thinks, pulling him into a soft embrace.

oh, but this bad mood is nothing compared to his jealousy.

Jeff gets close to you? Jeff is suddenly on the ground, blood leaking from his head and EJ hurriedly dragging the former away, admonishing him about not messing with Toby’s precious human.

Tim comforts you about Toby’s outbursts? suddenly he’s against the wall, Toby growling and spitting in his face. if he can’t be there for you, then no one else gets to be there for you either. though, he knows this is selfish.

if he could help it, he’d let you go to whomever you wanted for comfort. but oh, his heart aches so.

and his jealousy is nothing compared to how angry he gets at himself, bashing the walls of the manor, crying out at night, because he can’t be there for you like a normal boyfriend.

he doesn’t know this, but you’re in a corner too, muffled sobs, tears, nose dripping and all.

so at night, you crawl back into bed before he notices you, and lie awake till he comes back.

as his breathing settles and his snoring begins, you hug him just a little bit tighter, your sweet vogel with broken wings.

ben

you have to admit, BEN is really, really freaky.

in the way he plays his games, the way he treats his archnemesis Jeff, in bed—oops.

but particularly, in the way he seems to have an endless tolerance for things that would usually upset someone.

he just. fucking giggles.

“aww, my sweet Y/N is so cute when she’s mad~”

context: he pissed you off and you’re currently in the middle of admonishing him with your whole heart and soul.

conversely, you’re the one who gets mad right back at him.

within the hour, he presents you with a tiktok with two cats that says: me when i’m venting and all my bf does is make jokes

he cackles to the ends of the earth and proceeds to make even more jokes

frankly, when the topic of frustration comes up with BEN’s name in the same sentence, you pretty much just think of him being the frustrating asshole in the relationship.

“BEN, give me my fucking phone back.”

he’s dangling it over your head, using the fact that he’s a floating apparition that can somehow interact with physical objects to his advantage.

once, you got so frustrated at him that you cried.

thankfully, he had the decency to pause, panic, and reflect on his actions.

“oh.” five seconds passed and your crying didn’t get better (what did he expect?). he repeated himself. “oh.”

“actually say something, you idiot!” you sobbed. and this is what snapped BEN into action. (you can’t believe you actually had to tell him to comfort you.)

“oh.” then he realized he’d just been saying “oh” like a broken record. “um.”

so he wraps you up in a blanket like a burrito, and holds you close to his chest.

“i’m sorry.”

“promise not to do it again?” you look up at him with your best puppy eyes.

“…i can’t promise.” you can tell he’s holding back a cheeky grin.

you whine and hit him lightly.

but you know very well that he loves you; this frustration merely comes with him as a package.

[porcalinecunt]

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ‘𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐏!

🎀 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wondered what boothill has that lasso for . . ♡

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — ftm!reader. mean dom!boothill. crossdressing. bondage. fingering. (reluctant) praising. dumbification. squirting.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : boothill brainrot has me going hogwild for him hmmphmmammm. my last post abt him has been popping off lately, i hear your cries boothill nation and i'm here to serve! enjoy ~♡

“quit whinin’ boy, will ya?” 

he rasped, swallowing another bullet. the taste of lead spread in his mouth, crunching noises from the ground up ammo made you flinch a bit. 

your wispy gown was bunched up to your thighs, held in place with the rope he uses as a lasso outside of the bedroom. every curve was shown in it’s full glory, soft flesh suffocated from the harsh material. you sat on your knees with your wrists tied tightly behind your back, rendering you helpless as you couldn’t even close your legs. you could only watch helplessly as the ranger pumped his metal fingers in and out of your soaked cunny. his cold palm pressed up against your clit, overwhelming you with an electrifying friction no other man could give you. 

“mm..b-boothi–” 

smack!

you flinched as your thighs instinctively tried to press themselves shut, much to the amusement of your robotic boyfriend. a shit eating grin spread across his lips, flashing his shark-like teeth. 

“what did i say baby..? too cute to understand now?” 

the bullet between his teeth moved up and down, his speech slightly glitched at the very term ‘cute’. if only he could spit out what he really ment, but then again, his sarcastic tone dripping with faux sympathy spoke volumes. boothill was a sweetheart at his metal core, but if you asked so nicely, he might flick his own switch just to see you fall apart at his touch. you were too adorable to turn down. 

you shook your head, syrupy eyes stared back into his bloodshot ones. a silent beg for release, added on by your impatient grinding. two teasing fingers were no longer enough for you, no, you needed him to do his absolute worst. fucking you while bound like the good little minx you were for the hunk of steel. to hear his annoyed tone forced to say sweet nothing while his body said otherwise. maybe, he might get the gun involved. none of it mattered. 

through mindless babbles and high pitched whines, you pleaded for more. the ranger’s eyes flicked up towards your fucked out face as he swallowed the last bullet. you were pulled forwards by the rope, forced to face boothill’s mean grin. 

“use your words doll.” 

you tried, you really did, but whatever you wanted couldn’t come out right. almost like you short circuited, spitting out all of your desires. from him fingerblasting you ‘till you soaked his whole forearm to being stuffed to the brim by his synthetic cock, his ridiculous girth stretching your cunny till you cry. as you begged, his fingers quicked until the noises were too loud to even hear him praise you in your ear. you cracked your eyes open and almost orgasmed at what was being done to you. three fingers pumping themselves in and out of you, with boothill using the strength from his forearm to dig himself deeper until he touched your cervix. your thighs shook violently, shifting the rope to reveal the marks it’s already left on your soft flesh. you were close, and he could tell so easily. the way you clenched around his fingers to how quickly your moans subsided into lewd silence was made so stupidly obvious. 

“nasty one aren’t ya? y’gonna cum already?” 

he chuckled, nipping your earlobe as the final knots in your stomach finally snapped. tugging onto his leather vest, you came and came hard. your vision blurred and your legs went numb while you sobbed out in both shock and pleasure. boothill drank up the view in front of him, his pretty baby fucked out and dumber then a lost trotter. your once flawless sundress now ruined at the bottom with the top slipping off of your shoulders. of course, the rope that’s definitely gonna leave some lasting marks, which is exactly what he wanted. 

after all, you’ll come running back with it in hand the moment they fade. ♡

© porcalinecunt 💌 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[coffee-and-geto]

aftercare with your boyfriend. toji fushiguro (sfw)

cw: fluff, crack, based on a tiktok trend.

After each sex session, your boyfriend Toji has a habit of giving you aftercare — especially when he’s been particularly rough with you. So, here you are in the bathroom, gently washing yourself while he cleans up in the toilet. The silence in the apartment fills the walls, with only the sound of running water and the flush breaking through.

“Need any help, doll?” Toji asks, one hand pressed against the bathroom door and his ear close to it to hear you over the noise of the water.

“No, it’s sweet of you, Toji,” you reply a little louder so he can hear. “I’ll be done quickly.”

“Alright.”

He disappears into the kitchen in search of snacks as his stomach growls on cue — a mix of a burp and a bear’s rumble.

By the time he comes back, you’re already snuggled up under the soft blankets, looking peaceful and seemingly asleep. Seizing the opportunity, Toji tiptoes to his PlayStation 5, turns it on, and starts up one of his favorite video games, “Hitman”.

Toji winces as he sits on the edge of the bed in front of the small TV across from the bed, afraid that the creaking of the bed will wake you up. Phew, you didn’t wake up! He launches his game and starts playing, a smile on his lips as he munches on a Dorito.

It’s several minutes into Toji’s game when you roll over in bed, not at all asleep. On the contrary, you’re waiting for your boyfriend to come and cuddle you, kiss you as he should, and most importantly, give you your fucking aftercare!

When you’re no longer giving your back to him, you blink at the sight of a Toji who isn’t paying you any attention but is instead focused on his console.

“TOJI!”

He jumps violently and yanks off his headset, glancing over his shoulder at your motionless but furious silhouette. His game is still going, so he can’t afford to take his eyes off the screen for too long — or risk getting killed in the game.

“Y-Yeah, doll?” he asks, eyes back on the screen, and you notice orange Dorito crumbs at the corners of his lips.

Your blood boils. “SO YOU TAKE MY ABILITY TO WALK AFTER DESTROYING MY PUSSY AND NOW YOU’RE PLAYING ‘HITMAN’?!” you scold, kicking your feet under the covers to try to hit him.

“Sorry, doll, but I—”

“I PAID FOR THAT CONSOLE, SO YOU BETTER GIVE ME MY AFTERCARE OR I’LL THROW IT OUT THE WINDOW!”

“WHAT?!” He sucks in a breath and abandons his controller to rush over to you, wrapping you in his big arms. “Sorry, sorry, doll, I’m sorry, don’t break my console, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he whispers.

As he continues to kiss you, hold you close, and shower you with apologies, a smirk tugs at your lips, and you stifle a giggle.

Tip #80: Threaten to break your boyfriend’s console when he starts neglecting you.

[anantaru]

sucking diluc off in public is my dream

cw. oral (male! receiving), throatfucking, public syx, fem! reader

the way diluc was whenever you two were intimate with each other was exactly how he was in real life, entirely merciless when he craved to pleasure you, but reserved when it's you doing it to him— when you suddenly realize he's been rubbing against his clothed bulge ever so often with a dizzy haze in his eyes as he yearns for some relief.

"we— ugh, shouldn't," he panics at first when you guide him towards the safe area of the angels share, "if someone sees us—" and despite his previous fear of being caught with his dick literally down your throat and his pants down, there's a pleasurable burn crawling over his groin when your mouth presses into him until your nose tickles his base, and the way he looks at you was needy, and a little wild and exciting.

diluc watches with both attention and interest as you leisurely pull back to suckle on his tip, your tongue continuously kitty licking at the underside of his cock, both your frames veiled away in the sheltered upstairs area of his tavern where customers couldn't spot you.

his eyes were fully focused on you, but mostly they caught on to the borderline painful looking stretch of your lips wrapping around his thick shaft, his large hand caressing the back of your head as you guide your mouth lower.

"angel, fuck— you feel so so good," his voice was continuously breaking under the weight of your plump lips wrapping and molding into his shape and shit— he loves seeing you like this, eager to tease him and the fact that he was the only person you'd do this to sent his body in a frenzy.

you're both so filthy— adventurous for doing this right now, and every time he hears the pesky noises from downstairs, be it the clashing of cups or the loud yells of drunk customers, his thighs violently shake under your touch when you bring his attention back with a harsh stroke of your head bobbing down.

you look up at him, hollowing out your cheeks and swirling your tongue over the tip as you pull back, making his muscles scream for more of this, more relief as you manage to give him more.

diluc wasn't necessarily the loudest whenever you were intimate with each other, while now for the first time, he has to be quiet in order to keep your bodies sheltered from someone catching up on the two of you. despite the soft grunts that will sometimes rumble in his chest, he keeps himself silent, but finds himself in trouble when you're  trying harder and harder to take inch after inch, his body reacting when your throat flexes whenever you attempt to taste more of him.

he is just so warm and big in your mouth it fizzles your eyes with tears— and your throat just loved the stretch of his member, or his musky scent invading your nostrils and taking claim of your delirious mind.

you love every bit of what was going on and so did he— from the calloused hand on the back of your head holding you against his dripping cock, to his tip hitting the back of your throat over and over whenever you let him fuck your mouth like he wanted to, and not to forget the friction from your digits suddenly sliding down south to push between your thighs rubbing together, relieving yourself off any bit of the tension going on within your wet sex aching for him.

"jus... like that doll," he hisses at you, "so good, fuck—,"

he's digging his fingers into your head and holds you down on his erection as you gulp filthily around him, your messy spit oozing from the sides of your mouth and dribbling down from your chin to the wooden floor, smearing across not only yourself but his pants as well.

his cock twitches when you squeeze his balls and massage them in your palm, his shaft thickening in a way that you can evidently taste it on your tongue as he cums with a silent cry of your name, his greedy seed spilling hot inside of you as he continues to throatfuck you.

you press your fingernails into the flesh of his muscular thighs as you swallow his gift, and diluc groans at the sight, his eyes open wide after having himself lost in the hot tightness of your mouth.

you whimper around his shaft, barely— a vibration so pathetic that he glances down at you sheepishly, his cock still crowded into your wet mouth as you meet his gaze through doused lashes.

"you did so well, love .."

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[konigsblog]

older simon kidnaps johnny’s girlfriend ✊🏼🙁

getting a ride from older-simon riley.

tw/cw; rape/non-con, kidnapping, age difference/gap. simon is aged mid-forties, forced pregnancy MDNI 18+

simon riley has been in the military for a whole decade more than johnny what has. he's had his dirty eyes on you, eyes that have seen nothing but graphic gore and crimson blood, gunshots through people's skulls and hearts.

you had visited the base and ever since that one day, he couldn't get you out of his depraved mind. he's inching closer to his mid-forties and the crave for a young, energetic woman is only intensifying as he ages, especially after meeting you. the only thing preventing simon from taking you was your boyfriend, although soon, that would quickly change.

you're like a puppy; you're energetic and brighten his mood, lift the atmosphere inside of a room full of sulking, mourning men. your laugh sends shivers down his spine, sucking in a sharp breath as he admires you from afar. simon had been eavesdropping on a conversation between you and johnny. you had discussed your plans to go to a bar with your friends, to have a couple drinks together before you'd get a taxi home.

simon decided that he'd change your plans and would instead ‘invite’ you over to his house, whether that sounded like something you were interested in or not. after a couple drinks, you stumbled out of the bar all alone after your friend had gone off with another man, probably to have sex in some cheap, sketchy motel down the road. but simon was more focused on you, who stumbled to his window, asking for a ride so sweetly.

oh, he'd give you a ride, that's for sure.

perhaps something got lost in translation, you thought as you shook uncontrollably and violently. you weeped through your drunken, intoxicated state as simon bounced you up and down on his muscular hips, groaning out painfully at the tightness of your wet and sloppy cunt around his swollen, big cock. you had tape over your mouth to muffle your screams and cries and your wrists were tied with rope to prevent you from wriggling away out of his perverted grip. you choked on your tears and screams for mercy as simon thrusted up into you, the tip of his lengthy cock slapping against your gummy cervix with each bounce.

“that’s it, baby. quit cryin’, y’know you’re enjoyin’ it, just givin’ the pretty girl what she wants.”

it didn't matter if you gagged, wailed, or screamed out for forgiveness for whatever you'd done wrong, he wouldn't stop until he got his fill. simon was inching closer towards his orgasm, to pin you down against the cold basement floor to fuck his hot ropes of creaminess into your sticky and bloody slit. your phone was smashed into pieces in the corner of the room while he forcefully impregnated you, claiming ownership over the pretty doll tied up in his basement.

[cordeliawhohung]

take this pornstar!gaz idea. it sounded better in my head, but oh well.

cw: alcohol, mostly fluff, a little angst, two idiots in love.

Kyle’s never seen you in public before. 

Really, he hasn’t seen you anywhere that wasn’t either in your dressing room, or in the studio, so it feels like a dream when he catches you in the corner of his eye. Glitter captures the dim glow of the streetlamp like starlight on your eyelids as you giggle and sway on your feet. He’s never seen you dressed up, either; at least, not of your own accord instead of some stylists choosing. You’re absolutely radiant as you try to fight off the two girls on either side of you, both of who huff and puff at you as they try to drag you towards a running car parked just off the pavement. 

“You’re fucking pissed,” one of them says. “No damn way you’re taking the bus home.” 

Your response to her is muffled behind a whine and then another giggle as you paw at your eyes. Glitter stains your fingertips like dried blood, and you quickly wipe it off on the front of your shirt, spreading it along your body like a curse.

The night air grows heavy as Kyle adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder. Sweat still clings to his skin from a late night workout, but he ignores it as he allows his attention to wander. There’s a dewy glow to your skin — and not just from the glitter — that snitches to him that you’ve had more than enough to drink that night, as if the stumbling wasn’t enough. Despite your disheveled look, you’re still the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on. 

Except he’s seemed to have kept his eyes on you for a bit too long, because one of the women you’re with glares at him as if he’s human filth. It’s a sharp glare, one that warns him she’s not really one to mess with. It has his teeth digging into his cheek, and his feet stumble under the heat of her gaze. 

“The fuck’re you looking at?” she asks, voice dropping low.

Her biting tone has you looking at her with narrowed eyes before your head whips to the side with such force the rest of you nearly follows. Your eyes don’t quite reach his face, and you end up staring at his chest with squinted eyes for a solid few seconds. He’s sure the distance between you two — a good and safe couple of feet — doesn’t help either, but he stops in his tracks the moment you finally find his eyes. 

“Kyle!” you coo. 

His name sounds like a holy hymn on your tongue, and you slip out of the grasp of your friends in order to throw yourself at him. Catching you is easy. All it takes is his hands on your waist and your palms on his chest to steady you. Sour booze fills his nose, but he doesn’t even flinch at the burn. Your grin captivates him too much for him to do anything but smile. 

“Hey, doll,” he greets, his suave aura hiding the fact his heart pounds in his chest so violently it almost hurts. “Havin’ a good night?” 

“Well I was,” you groan. Your forehead presses against his chest, and Kyle is suddenly aware of the heat radiating off of his body. However, if you do smell the slight musk clinging to him after hitting the gym, you don’t mention anything. “They’re trying to get me into that stupid fucking uber and I just wanna walk home.” 

“You are not walking home,” one of the girls — the one who had glared at him before — interrupts. “And I’m not walking halfway across the city with your drunk ass, either.” 

“It’s not a great idea,” he concurs.

That only makes you groan again before leaning your entire body weight on him. You’re throwing a childish fit, yet he can’t help but chuckle as he wraps his arms around you in a light embrace to help keep you from falling face first into the pavement. Settling down, the two girls you’re with stop looking at Kyle as if he’s the devil himself, and more so just have an overall appearance of embarrassment for you. 

“I hate it here,” you whine. 

“How about this,” Kyle proposes, “you let your friends take the uber home, and I’ll walk you back to your place?”

“You’d do that for me?” you mumble into his chest. 

“Anythin’ for you.” 

Although you’re on board right away, it takes a little convincing to get your friends comfortable enough to have you walking home with an unfamiliar, sweaty man. They refuse to let you out of their sight until you admit to them that he’s technically your coworker (while also not so tactfully admitting he’s seen you naked and fucked you countless times and that you’d trust him with your life). After you promise to text them the moment you arrive home, your friends give you an awkward farewell before allowing Kyle to whisk you off into the night to lay down for a well deserved nap. 

It’s about a block and a half in that Kyle realizes why your friends fought so hard to take an uber. Not only is your flat truly on the other side of the damn city, but keeping you upright on your feet should be a sport. He keeps an arm around your waist for the entire walk just to keep you steady, but it also has the added benefit of warding off any shady eyes. And there are a lot of shady eyes. Enough to be grateful that he was the one who ran into you tonight rather than anyone else. 

By the time the two of you reach your apartment, you’ve hardly sobered up. Not that Kyle minds, of course. You’ve obviously had a fun night, and he rather enjoys your aimless rambling. It’s the most he’s heard you talk. Not even your fucked-out babbling on set gets you to talk that much. 

“Alright,” Kyle says as you unlock the door, “you gonna be alright for the night?” 

You throw him an odd side-eye as the door swings open. “Of course.” 

That was supposed to be where he said farewell, and yet you grab his hand and yank him into your apartment like you’re dragging around a dog on a leash. He figures sticking around for a little longer to at least help you into bed might not be a bad idea, certainly not with how inebriated you are, and somehow he ends up in the bathroom with you. 

Your legs swing carelessly as you sit on the counter, facing away from the mirror. You’ve roped Kyle into helping you take your makeup off, which so far has consisted of nothing but him holding your chin still and tilting your head as he fruitlessly wipes at the glitter on your face with a makeup wipe. There’s easier ways to get body glitter off of skin, but you rather enjoy the serious face of concentration that sets deep in his features as he gently scrubs at you. 

“You’re cute,” you giggle. 

“I’m cute?” he repeats. 

You nod, which makes him huff and readjust his grip on your chin. “You’re concentrating so hard.” 

“‘Course I am, gotta get this damn superglue off your face.” 

Kyle continues to wipe at your face for only a few more minutes before he decides that’s as good as it’s going to get. With his hand in yours, you lead him into your bedroom where the remaining evidence of your preparation for the night litters the foot of your bed in rejected clothing and accessories. You gather them up into a big pile in your arms where you toss it on top of your dresser before raiding the drawers for pajamas to wear. 

You don’t warn Kyle before you slip your shirt over your head. For some reason, it catches him off guard. He’s seen you naked countless times before; hell, he’s quite literally ripped clothes off of your body, yet this feels like a breach of privacy. You’re not in your right mind, still in a drunken stupor after a night out with the girls. It feels wrong, like he’s taking advantage of you, and instead of gawking at you like he normally does,  he turns away. 

It isn’t until you stand there in only your panties that you realize Kyle’s averted his gaze. A smirk pulls at your lips as you forget about changing and trot up to him, forcing his attention back on you. His eyes quickly wander, yet refuse to go any further than past your chest before they flicker back up to your face. Your small smirk quickly turns into a grin. 

“What’re you acting shy for, Kyle?” you tease. 

“Just givin’ you privacy, doll,” he defends. 

“Privacy?” you repeat. A small laugh leaves you as your hands press against his chest, forcing him to stumble backwards towards your bed. “You look nervous.” 

When the back of his legs hit the mattress, Kyle has no choice but to fall back. He sits on the edge of the bed with his hands propping his torso up, but you don’t allow him any breathing room before you’re straddling his hips. Perfume and alcohol fills his nose as you make yourself comfortable, and your eyes drink in his expression. You’ve never seen his eyes so dilated before, and you bask in the way they reflect the dim lighting of your bedroom. 

“Do I make you nervous, Kyle?” you ask, voice soft and low. 

The Adam’s apple in his throat bobs as he swallows, still unable to take his eyes off of you. Warm hands rest on your hips to keep you steady as you lean closer to him, lips ghosting against his earlobe as you continue to tease him. 

“Don’t tell me you’re all bark and no bite. You always said you wanted to get me without the cameras, didn’t you? Fuck me properly? Well, now’s your chance.” 

God, he wants to. It’s almost as if it’s part of his nature at this point; to please you. Your body has become his bread, the only sustenance he needs to keep himself going. As he stares up at you, he thinks of all the ways he could have you right there in that room that he can’t on set. The things he can say, admit; the sounds he could pull out of you for his ears and his ears only. He yearns for it so bad he feels it tearing him apart. 

But as he notices the glazed look in your eyes, he knows he can’t do it. You can hardly sit in his lip without him holding you steady, lest you fall backwards onto the floor. Images of fucking you when you’re like that, far from sober, flood his mind, and he feels ill. 

In order to get control of himself and his wandering mind, he quite literally turns the tables on you. Your vision blurs as you’re suddenly on your back, body resting on the comforter of your bed as Kyle sits back on his haunches between your legs. He taps your thigh before sliding away from you, and much to his surprise, you don’t even pout. 

“I’m gettin’ you water, and then you’re going to bed, yeah?” he says, gaining control of the situation. 

You stare up at him incredulously, hardly believing a word he says. Still, you agree with him as you shimmy up the bed where you rest your head on your pillows. The way you position your body, with your tits on display and a small smile on your lips, reminds him of the way you pose on set for the cameras. He wonders if you even know what it’s like to be fucked without having to perform anymore. 

“Whatever you say, Kyle.” 

When Kyle leaves your room, he wipes at his face with both of his hands and does his best to stifle a groan. It’s late, significantly later than he’s used to staying up, and his muscles ache from that evening’s workout. The mental jump rope he’s playing doesn’t help the fatigue in his body either. This is the most emotionally confused he’s been in quite a while, and he’s hoping he can just go home, take a cold shower, and forget about all of it come morning. 

It takes him longer than normal to get you a glass of water. Adrenaline courses through his veins like boiling water, and he can hardly hear anything over the thumping of his heart in his ears, so he tries to take a moment to panic by himself in your kitchen. By the time he returns to you, you’re passed out. Eyes fluttered shut, chest lazily rising and falling with your breaths, Kyle finds himself stopping at the foot of your bed in awe. 

He’s glad he stopped you. 

After placing the glass on your nightstand, he folds your comforter over you as best as he can, covering your bare body. The light fabric moving across your skin stirs you awake, and your eyes flutter open just long enough to grab his hand. His heart stops as you attempt to pull him closer, and he finds himself kneeling next to your bed, utterly lured. 

“Are you staying?” you ask, not even bothering to open your eyes. 

His thumb brushes over your knuckles as he shakes his head. “Sorry, doll. Not tonight.” 

“Oh,” is all you can say. 

You fall silent again, and he stays kneeling next to you for a moment as he enjoys the feeling of your hand in his. Once he thinks you’ve fallen asleep again, he presses his lips against the back of your hand before returning it onto the mattress. Your lips curl at the sensation. 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Those words have been in the back of your throat ever since the two of you filmed the honeymoon shoot together, and it has Kyle stopping in his tracks. He wants to stay. Everything in him screams at him to. To crawl into bed with you, to wrap you in his arms and comfort you in the morning when your hangover gets the best of you. But he can’t. He can’t even tell if this is what you truly want, or if it’s the alcohol talking. 

He swallows. 

“Love you too, doll.” 

When Kyle turns to leave, he tries not to look back. He knows it’ll destroy him if he does. Instead, he keeps a steady pace as he exits your apartment, leaving you to wake up in the morning with nothing but cold sheets and a migraine. 

[enha-cafe]

you really know how to make me scream

SUMMARY ➤ quick drabbles of getting fucked by ghostface! enhypen (just the obligatory scream/ghostface-themed smut)

WARNING(S) ➤ afab! reader, smut, literal ghostface! serial killers enha, brief mentions of killing, cursing, lowercase intended, blood kink, unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy), creampie, slight dubcon (?), kinda pervy (would it be an enha-cafe thought if there wasn't any pervs?), mirror sex, stomach bulge, mask kink, light choking, petnames (pretty, baby, good girl, doll), voice kink

A/N ➤ i am forever and always obsessed with ghostface! enha

heeseung

cw: mask kink, good girl used like once, light choking, unprotected sex, creampie

"never would've thought you'd liked getting fucked by a psycho, always thought you were such a good girl." even though you know he's a murderer you can't help but whimper at his words. staring into his mask he tells you, "god you feel so wet and tight i can't get enough of you" while moving his hand to squeeze the sides of your neck. you can't help but clench around him causing him to groan. the masked man starts thrusting into you faster and harder. feeling him twitch inside you and the knot in your stomach you know you’re both close. movements quickly becoming sloppier right before the two of you cum. feeling him release inside of you you let out an airy moan as you soon follow him. both of you breathless and he takes off his mask all he does is flash you a smile as he slowly pulls out of you, letting his cum drip out and hit the floor.

jay

cw: petname (doll), use of the voice modulator, voice kink

“i love how you make those pretty noises for me doll” he says speaking into the voice modulator. the sound making your movements stutter and your pussy to flutter around him. “oh you like the voice doll?” violently nodding your head as you look down at him. bringing the modulator to his mouth once more “i want to see you bouncing on my cock again,” he looks at you with a smirk as he teasingly thrusts up to meet your hips. mewling out his name telling him how full you feel. jay moving his right hand from your side to start playing with your clit. the sensation having you grind against his hand causing him to chuckle. “what a cute little doll for me you probably want me to cum inside of you too huh?” the thought of being entirely full of him making you move your hips a little faster and all you can do is look him in the eyes and whimper please.

jake

cw: mention of murder, cursing, petname (good girl), dubcon-ish (?)

"baby i killed that guy because he wanted to fuck you and you would've let him. he didn't deserve you, now be the good girl for me i know you are." you shakily spread your legs open for him. jake leaves kisses on your chest as you slightly struggle to look him in the eyes. “c’mon y/n i need you to look at me or else this won’t be a very fun experience,” he says as he grabs your chin and forces you to stare into his lustful eyes. you don’t even register how he’s started to pry you open on his cock. only fully aware when he bottoms out in you. "you don't know how long I've wanted to fuck this pretty pussy of yours. dreamed of it, killed for it." he mutters into your neck. “now it’s all mine” he says as he starts to pound into you like a mad man. the force causing you to loudly moan out to him, “i knew you could be a good girl for me”

sunghoon

cw: knife play, mirror sex, stomach bulge, petname (pretty, my pretty)

in this very moment, all you can think about is the saying "it's always the quiet ones." maybe if you were a little kinder to him or something you wouldn't be in this situation. watching in the mirror as a knife traces your curves and ghostface himself thrusts into you “c’mon pretty, why are you hiding your noises from me?” he frowns while looking st you through the mirror, "do you not like seeing how deep inside of you i am?" he grabs your hand and forces you to touch the bulge on your stomach, "c'mon pretty talk to me, i might be a killer but I'm not a complete monster. i still like hearing pretty girls such as yourself scream for me... one way or another" he nibbles on your ear causing you to let out a moan and with that he chuckles and starts playing with your clit. "see i knew you could do it for me," making sure to flash you a toothy grin before sucking on your neck, "such pretty noises from my pretty."

sunoo

cw: knife play, blood play, petname (baby)

all you did was answer a phone call, and now you have sunoo holding a blade to your cheek as you’re pinned against a wall watching him thrust into you. “you look so pretty when you think i’m going to hurt you,” he says while sucking on your neck. you let out a whimper of his name and you can feel him throb inside you. “baby let me have a little taste of you,” he says lightly cutting your cheek. the sudden pain causing you to squeeze your legs around his waist even tighter. causing sunoo’s hips to stutter and him to moan at your action as he goes to lick your cheek. moaning at the taste of you and squeezing on your thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. “god i just can’t get enough of you” he says right before pounding into so hard it has your head thrown back.

jungwon

cw: blood kink, knife play, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing

you know you shouldn't. you know you should be afraid. you know he's a killer. but god there's something so hot about a crazy man with blood on his face. especially when he's under you while you bounce on his cock. watching this tough murderer become putty in your hands as he digs his fingers into your hips, "please y/n you feel so good." bending down you capture his moans in a kiss and grab his knife from the bedside. pulling away he follows your lips and he whimpers for you. “you’re so cute” you tell him as you lightly trace his chest with the knife. before you can react you feel him quickly tense up and a warm liquid enter your womb. not even daring to stop his movements all he can say in response is “shit that was hot” as he watches his cum slowly pull out of you.

perma tag list: @hoonslutt @moonlighthoon

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | you’re almost a victim… (part 2)

♡ fandoms; House of Wax, Scream (kinda), Hannibal/Silence of the Lambs, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Bo Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Hannibal Lecter

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; mentions of violence and cannibalism, kidnapping, stalking, suggestive content

♡ notes; I’m kinda surprised this prompt won out for a part 2 but very happy lol, I had some fun ideas.

the whole gang is not here, just some kinda kinky guys again- I feel like this doesn’t work super well for every single slasher? only some of them are psychopaths AND perverts

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Bo Sinclair

> bo was having a rough day

> your friends had been putting up one hell of a fight, killing the first four was a huge pain in ass

> so by the time there’s only two of you left, he hasn’t even gotten a proper look at you

> it’s not until you come back to the gas station, wide eyed and begging for help that he finally notices you

> god you’re cute- you can be last

> he drops the nice guy act and gets you to the chair- rough as always and threatening you the whole way

> but then he notices it’s all a lot easier than usual today

> he glances up and can’t help but grin

> your cheeks are bright red and your chest heaving- you like being restrained

> “i’ll be good- promise—“ you mumble before he can be a smart ass

> he gags you anyways, but he praises you as you open your mouth for him to stuff the rag it in

> he can hear you whimper as he does and he’s just itching to leave so he can come back

> he leans over, one hand planted between your legs to steady himself

> he can hear your breathing catch as he simply kisses your forehead, snickering as he leaves

> you were really something

> a pretty, obedient little something that would last way longer than a day if you kept it up

Danny Johnson

> he’s worried you saw the flash of his camera through your window that morning

> he’s normally so careful, he can’t believe he slipped up like that- honestly he’s surprised you didn’t call the cops

> you must have been too groggy, or maybe it wasn’t as dark as he thought it was at the time. maybe you noticed but didn’t put two and two together

> he needs to kill you soon anyways. he’s been watching for a while, and he’s wasting time

> he settles back into his usual spot where he can see perfectly into your bedroom

> he sees you frown just a tad as you pick up the phone call from an “unknown number” - but you still pick up

> “Hi there, doll .”

> he’s called you more than once, this “ghost voice” that’s been terrorizing you- and god is it a nice voice

> a nice voice that says vile things. some of them just violent, some…well some things you like too much

> you can see you make an expression he doesn’t expect. you bite your lip, cheeks pink

> he’s seen that look before…not for Ghostface, of course, but for Danny

> you were easy enough to befriend, and it just gave him more opportunities to keep tabs on you

> like most people he charms, you clearly have a crush on him, and that little lip bite is about the same face you make when he flirts

> maybe he’s just seeing things

> you couldn’t be that perfect.if you were he would have to keep you around

> he continues on and on, observing you carefully

> and you just keep getting more and more flustered, even when he’s threatening to choke you stupid

> “you know you’re so cute when you blush like that,”

> what you say next comes just about as close to scaring him as you can get

> “Thank you, Danny.”

Hannibal Lecter

> you weren’t quite as close to victimhood as one might assume

> but he was a fast killer once he had a mark set- you had to impress him more than a bit to be considered and then ruled out

> you start as his patient

> you’re a meek thing, easy to read and fragile

> you’re practically asking to become an entree

> if you taste as good as you look, you’d be his best dish yet

> it’s not hard to get you alone outside of an appointment

> you’re delighted when he invites you to a dinner party- you’ve heard great things about his little get togethers

> and he even lets you help him get ready, setting the tables

> the conversation become macabre as you discuss some recent murders that police suspected were committed by a cannibal

> that he committed for the sake of the dinner party, naturally

> he corners you before you can realize it - he likes playing cat and mouse

> you giggle nervously and look up at him

> he’s got a hand on the wall above you, and he notices your eyes linger on his toned forearms

> many patients and victims have crushes on him, it’s not surprising or a deterrent

> though it surprised him the gristly conversation wasn’t bothering you

> “yknow, it must be nice to know you’re safe from that serial killer in the neighborhood. If he is a cannibal, he’s most likely to chose someone more sedentary.”

> you leave him there, as if you hadn’t said something so delightfully offputting to find a vase for the table

> maybe he could do some further studying….

[dollfacefantasy]

I want RE6 leon to fuck me until I pass out.

only a little drabble cause i'm having a hard time focusing rn but here you are cause this is real asf <3

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, overstimulation

You weren't sure what it was about tonight, or more specifically, what was up with Leon tonight. The past couple days he'd been clingier with normal, which was totally fine by you. You'd rather have him attached to your side than barely able to speak to you as was the case after a hard mission or a night when he had a bad dream.

But the clingy he'd been over the past couple days wasn't his normal clingy. It wasn't a hand constantly on your waist or swarms of gentle kisses landing at your hair line. A more accurate word to describe this would be need.

He was giving you tons of kisses, but they weren't gentle. They were open mouthed and sloppy up and down the side of your throat. His hands lingered on your body but not in a protective or loving manner. They groped and squeezed. The mere feeling of being so desired gave you the smallest spark of pleasure in your belly, but his desire for you nearly had burnt through an entire fuse.

It came no surprise to you that in the evening, his hands were snaking beneath your clothing, maneuvering your limbs around as if they belonged to a doll.

Needy kisses continued all along your throat and collar bone. Little murmurs of "just wanna feel you, baby" and "need to be inside that sweet little pussy" drifted up to your ears. Your fingers found his hair and gave it a little tug, a switch putting him into a state of no return.

Now his hand was wrapped around your throat. Your legs were bent over his shoulder. He was as deep inside you as physically possible without causing you an injury. You'd cum a few times already, pussy sore and aching but still sucking him like he was essential to your survival.

"Leon, fuck!" you cry out as his shaft continues sliding in and out of you raw, massaging all the pleasure spots that drove you wild.

He groans into the crook of your neck, biting at the skin as a way to not lose it. He didn't really know what was going on either. His stomach was doing flips at every tiny whimper you made, and his heart was locking up each time your walls fluttered around him.

"I know, honey. Just a little more. I'm almost done. I swear," he murmurs thoughtlessly.

The words were simply tools of placation. Another method to keep him safe and secure where he needed to be, balls deep inside of you.

Your back arches as much as it can in this position, and you whine like a desperate animal.

"That's my girl. I know, baby, I know. You're such a good girl, always giving me what I need," he coos in a strained tone.

His hips have a mind of their own, you know this well by now. You can feel them beginning to move like they're possessed. No regard for your pleasure, and in a way, almost no regard for his. They move purely with the drive to claim you. The deep primal part of him that ached to own you.

Your thighs quiver violently and the ability to speak with any sort of coherence is ripped away from you. It's all so much, and it's been so much for however long he's been drilling into you.

The noises coming from where the two of you connect sound throughout the room, wet and lewd. Unbridled and desperate.

You cum again at some point, but he's still fucking going. He's whimpering almost as if he's in pain. From what you can see with you're fading vision, his eyes are screwed shut and his breaths are coming out in ragged puffs.

"Baby, Jesus, I... ah- oh fuck, baby, my baby," he mumbles against your skin.

The bed below you feels as if it's on fire. Your skin burns with absolute overstimulation. Your head feels cased in a foggy container of lust. You aren't sure when it happens, but somewhere in the middle of all this, you pass out.

You're gone for a good ten seconds, head lolled back, eyes vacant, mouth parted and silent.

That's what clues Leon in that something's up. Your passionate mewls for him had abruptly faded to nothing. The hands clawing at his back had dropped away in favor of being limp on the mattress.

He pulls his head back, eyes widening when he sees your incapacitated state. But he can't stop moving his fucking hips. He so can't stop that the words "baby are you ok?" get tangled up into a whiny, humiliating groan that he's happy you most likely won't remember.

As you come to again, he cums inside of you. He throws his head back with a silent moan. Your gaze shows your disorientation but also the pleasure still coursing through you. He fucks that cum into you like it's his mission, and when he's done, you're pretty sure he's the one passed out now.

[galacticgraffiti]

⋆☾⋆ Big Love Ahead ⋆☽⋆

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Summary: Halsin rescues you after you get hurt in a fight, and you get to spend some time with him during the spring and summer months as he nurses you back to health. And maybe, you start to wonder what it would be like if his hands touched you for different reasons than just to heal you…

Rating: Mature/Explicit (for horny nudity not smut) Wordcount: 4.5k Descriptors: The first two chapters are fairly genderneutral. Reader's physique is not really described aside from being quite a bit shorter and smaller than Halsin. CW: Fluff, softness, (physical) hurt/comfort, being nursed back to health by Halsin, pet names, this is achingly sweet, flirting, banter, oblivious pining, rated explicit for the eventual smut in chapters to come

✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦

⋆༻༺⋆༺༻⋆••●••⋆༺༻⋆༻༺ ⋆

Chapter 1: The Druid

He is the one who finds you.

Heavy footsteps make the earth vibrate beneath you, then soft fur presses against your bloodied cheek. You let it happen only because you can’t escape. It’s a miracle you’re still alive, if you are honest with yourself, and you are quite sure this is just a dream.

Surely, it must be a dream, right? To be lifted, not by paws but big, strong hands, to be carried out of that violent grove that nearly became your grave. To be placed upon the softest thing you have ever felt, and to see skin turn into fur once more as he lays beside you. Surely, a dream.

You close your eyes, and you drift off.

*****

When you wake up, you are disoriented beyond all hells, and alone.

Your entire body aches, but when you look down, you see that all your wounds have been mended and wrapped in neat bandages. Some of them smell of forest and herbs, others of things you have no words for describing.

Sitting up makes your head spin, so you decide to close your eyes again. Just… for a moment.

*****

It’s night when you wake up, though once you think about it, you are not sure how you know. Was it this dark the last time you woke up? You think there was some light - you saw the bandages, you could see the shape of your body beneath the sheets… But now, there is just darkness, so black it scares you, heavy like a blanket made from a thousand deaths.

Your heart starts to race, and you feel yourself breaking out in sweats as you think about your lost friends - all of them laying bloodied and broken on the battlefield like dolls, with slit throats and arrows in their hearts.

You groan in pain when you sit up, and the edges of your vision start to blur.

“Careful, now.”

The voice startles you. It comes from the opposite end of whatever room you are in, too far away for you to reach out and touch, and even with all your squinting, you can’t see anyone. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly.

“Who are you? Why did you bring me here?” Your voice is scratchy and raw, and your throat burns from the dryness. You cough, doubling over as you try to inhale some air to fill your desperate lungs.

“Shh, don’t die on me now, little flower.” 

The voice is much closer now, and out of habit, your hand slides down your thigh to where you usually keep your knife. It’s not there - of course it’s not, you are not wearing anything more than you’d need to guarantee the smallest amount of decency.

Panic rises in your chest, a sour taste coating your tongue.

“Who are you?” You repeat, out of breath from those few words.

“I saved you.” A flame is lit only a few feet away from you, and your eyes hurt from the sudden light. You squint, trying to get used to it. All you can see is the faint silhouette of a… man. A broad-backed man, taller than you have ever seen, with long hair and a gentle face. Pointed ears peek out from beneath soft curls, and you stare at him. 

An elf? With this… frame? Who the hells is this guy?

He looks at you calmly, patiently waiting for your reaction.

“Saved me?” The question makes you cough again. A hand appears in front of your face, offering you a waterskin. You accept it without much hesitation - what choice do you have? If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now.

The water hurts as much as it helps - cool and fresh as it runs down your dry throat. You take a few careful sips and damn near end up coughing your lungs out again. The hand takes the water away from you gently.

“That’s enough for now. Slow down, or you’ll make yourself sick.” His voice speaks more of concern than command. You let go, pressing back into your little corner.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you say finally. “Who are you?”

The man steps back into the shadows, his back turned to you. He is scarred and marked in ways only people from the wilds ever are, and that calms you a little. He is not a soldier.

“Rest for now,” he says. “We will talk when you wake again.”

You want to object, but large, warm hands press you down into your soft bedding again and pull the blanket up over your shoulders. Your eyes flutter closed - you are tired, so tired still. Distantly, you wonder how much time has passed since the grove.

“Wait,” you whisper, your hand finding his larger one in the dark. Your fingers curl weakly.

“What is it? Something you need?” Once again, his only feeling seems to be concern.

You slowly shake your head and regret the motion immediately when you taste blood on your tongue.

“No, I don’t- just… thank you.”

He stills in your weak grasp. Moments pass, then finally, his voice comes again, sounding oddly sad.

“You are welcome, little one.”

*****

You find a rhythm after that, sleeping and waking. Sometimes he’s around, sometimes he is not. You realise that the supposed room you are in is little more than a cave decked out in some essentials.

After a few days, you finally learn his name: Halsin.

Halsin looks after you, and you don’t question why. He does not talk much, but the look on his face never makes you doubt that the only thing he wants is for you to get better.

You drink more water, and after a few days, Halsin finally allows you to eat: Stew, not much, fed to you by his large hand holding a spoon that seems much too small for him.

When the food stays down, Halsin allows you to eat more and more, and you get some of your strength back. Your body still hurts, but all your bones seem to be in the right place - though some are definitely still broken, as you discover when you try to lay on your side.

Some days after you first remember waking up, you manage to sit up all by yourself and your fingers can hold the spoon for the first time. Halsin watches you carefully, whittling away as you eat a bowl of stew. And another. And another.

“Someone was hungry,” he smiles.

“Hungry as a bear,” you grin. He furrows his brow. You swear his eyes seem golden, but it’s probably just the light of the fire. He stares into the darkness for a moment, then puts his knife to the side. Before you can ask him what is wrong, he is gone.

****

Halsin returns the next day, back to his usual self. You wouldn’t quite call it ‘chipper’, but none of the worry that graced his features yesterday seems to remain. You decide it is wisest not to ask about it. If there is something you need to talk about, he will tell you in time.

When Halsin tucks you into bed that night as has become his habit, you notice - not for the first time - how good he smells: Of fresh grass and summer rain, of wood and smoked leather. You become acutely aware that you yourself have not had a bath in quite some time.

“Halsin?” You bite your tongue, feeling awkward about asking.

“What is it?”

“Do you… well. I think I should take a bath.”

Halsin cocks his head. You can see the cogs in his head turning, behind his soft, round features. He crosses his arms, and your heart flutters at the sheer swell of his biceps. You shake your head to shoo the unwelcome thought away.

“Well. there is a stream close to the cave…” he says slowly.

You nod excitedly.

“Perfect! I can-”

“You are still very injured, little flower,” he interrupts you - not rudely, but firmly. “You can barely stand up, let alone walk all the way there. The stream is dangerous, and I do not want you injuring yourself-”

“Carry me, then,” you propose hastily, more in jest than anything else. A small smile tugs on the corners of Halsin’s eyes.

“You can’t stand on your own either, and only one of your arms has healed enough for you to wash yourself.” He quirks a brow. “Have you got a solution for that too, little one?”

“You can wash me,” you suggest, this time fully certain he will recognise the joke.

Halsin chuckles to himself and shakes his head.

“All that effort- for what? Your wounds are clean, and you are getting better every day. Have I not taken care of you? Is there something I missed? If you tell me-”

“You smell good,” you say before you can think about your words. Halsin’s eyes widen by the smallest fraction, but he stays quiet, so you drone on. “You smell like forest and fresh pine, and meanwhile, I have been wasting away in this cave for weeks now. I want to… I don’t know. I want to feel like less of a burden, I suppose. I want to feel like myself again.”

“Oh.” Halsin takes your hand, very gently, like a doctor calming his patient. It still makes your heart race. “You are not a burden. Taking care of you has been my privilege.”

“You’re sweet,” you whisper. Halsin lets go of you.

“Do you… do you think a bath would help you feel better?” he asks, his voice serious. “I know I don’t provide much entertainment-”

“I like it when you are around,” you admit quietly. “I like watching you whittle. Your presence calms me.”

At that, Halsin lets out a roaring laugh that takes you totally by surprise - so much so that you simply fall into laughing with him. You cannot grasp what he could be laughing about, but seeing him so happy - knowing you are the one who made him laugh - it makes your heart stumble.

“Fine,” Halsin says when he can breathe again. “Alright, little one, if a bath is what you want, a bath is what you shall get.”

*****

When he returns the next day, for the first time, you notice that you have no idea where he sleeps. He laughs the questions off as he looks over your various wounds and ailments.

These inspections have become a ritual that both excites and frightens you: It excites you because it means Halsin’s big hands on your body, stroking, nearly caressing, touching (almost) every inch of you. It frightens you because you are scared he will notice how much you like it. And it scares you to think that one day, there might not be anything for him to look at - and when your wounds are healed, where will you go?

 You scoot to the front of your makeshift bed when Halsin asks you to, dangling your feet over the edge. When he kneels between your thighs to examine a particularly deep cut in your upper thigh, it takes all your strength not to cup his jaw and ask him to kiss you.

You daydream yourself away - dream of the way his hands look on you, of the way the light bounces off his irises and makes it seem like they are glowing. You dream of his lips and how soft they might be against yours, and you try to remember that feeling when he first found you - the softness of fur - might it have been his hair?

“Alright,” Halsin declares, interrupting your yearning thoughts. 

“Alright?” you ask, looking down at him. He stands, suddenly towering over you. You swallow thickly.

“I think… it’s time for my little patient to have a bath.” He smiles and offers you his hand. You feel like you have been punched in the stomach when he calls you his patient. Is that all you are to him? Just some… girl he needs to heal? Someone he found and took responsibility for? Still, you take his hand and slide off the bed.

Your legs give in nearly the second they touch the ground, but Halsin’s strong arms are there to catch you. He lifts you like you weigh no more than a feather. His arms feel familiar, and comfortable, and like you could fall asleep in them forever and ever. You sigh happily and snuggle against his broad chest.

When you realise what you are doing, your eyes snap open, terrified of your own actions.

“Sorry,” you mumble, your cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Halsin’s chest shakes against you.

“No need to apologise. I am happy you feel comfortable in my presence.”

“Mhhm.” You try to hide your face as best you can, lest he recognise the emotions that must be showing.

Halsin carries you carefully, stopping as you get closer to the light near the entrance of the cave.

“Close your eyes, little one. You haven’t been outside in quite a while, and the sun is bright today.”

You follow his instructions, pressing your eyes shut. The air smells fresh and sweet when he steps out of the cave, and the rays of sun that dance on your face warm you from the inside out. You blink carefully, lids still half closed as you take in your surroundings: The formation of rocks that makes up your cave, the meadow below you, the quiet gurgle of a stream behind a grove of trees.

“Oh.” The noise is barely more than a breath that escapes you, but when you look up at Halsin, a bright smile illuminates his features.

“Beautiful, is it not?”

“Yes!” you nod your head enthusiastically, too distracted by the beauty around you to notice the way Halsin’s eyes linger on your face.

“I am glad you think so.” His arms tighten around you for a moment as he adjusts his stance. “Are you feeling alright? The place I had in mind is not far.”

“I am wonderful,” you assure him, closing your eyes as you bask in the sun. You never noticed how much you missed all of this until now. Halsin’s company is the best you could imagine, but the cave gets lonely from time to time. You like being outside, hearing the birds sing again, watching the clouds that sail through the sky above.

“Right then,” Halsin nods. “Onwards we go.”

It really is not a long walk - it barely takes a minute. The quiet corner of the river is tucked between two bends, next to a big weeping willow. It’s warm outside, much warmer than you expected, and you dare to hope the water might not be ice cold.

Halsin stops right next to a small pool of water, set apart from the rest of the river by a few stones, carefully placed - much too neat to be a natural occurrence.

“I made a bath for you,” he says, sounding quite pleased with himself. “I knew you could never withstand the current, not in the shape you are in, and…”

You look up at him, awed by his care and affection.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Halsin smiles quietly.

“Whatever I can do to help, it’s my pleasure.” He points at the pool with his chin. “Do you think this will suffice?”

“Oh, it will more than suffice,” you nod, practically vibrating with excitement. Finally, after all this time, a bath. Feeling clean again. 

Halsin seems to consider something, his brow furrowed with concern.

“I did not think about… where to put you down.”

You look at him in confusion and he shrugs, your weight not even slowing his shoulders in the movement. Your heart leaps.

“I mean,” Halsin explains, averting his eyes from yours tactfully, “that you will have to undress before you get in. Now, as you may have noticed, I enjoy nature in all of her forms, but I know not everyone is so… inclined.”

You swear you see a blush creep into his cheeks. His eyes flashing golden in the sunlight. Your heart flutters when you finally understand what he is trying to tell you.

“Oh!” you exclaim then, wiggling in his arms. This could not go better if you had planned it. You didn’t even think of this when you asked for a bath, but oh dear, did fate give you a good hand today. “I don’t mind if you stay, Halsin.”

“I want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.” He sounds almost like he is trying to convince himself. “I made that pool of water quite deep so you could sit in it, though it is shallow enough the sun should have warmed it up a bit…”

“I would jump into the ice seas if only it meant a chance for a bath,” you chuckle. You tug at Halsin’s arm. “Put me down, please.”

He sets you down on the ground so gently as if you could break. You find your footing after a moment, holding on to his big arm until your head stops spinning, waving him off when he bends down to look at you with concerned eyes.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Promise.”

Halsin stares at you, but he doesn’t drag you back to the cave, so you take that as a sign of faith. You take a deep breath and start peeling out of the few layers of fabric you have on you. Reaching for your bandages, you hesitate.

“Should I leave those on?” you ask. Halsin’s eyes snap up to yours, and you nearly giggle at the look on his face. He has the expression of a bear caught with his paw in the honeypot.

“Oh… no,” he answers finally. “You can take those off, I’ll put fresh ones on after your bath.”

“Mhhm. You take such good care of me.”

You start peeling the bandages from your maltreated body, dedicating all your energy to staying upright. Halsin’s eyes never leave you, roaming up and down your naked body, but you are far too focused on the task at hand to notice.

This is the longest you have been on your legs in weeks, and your thighs are already starting to burn. Quickly, you finish unwrapping yourself. Before you can figure out a plan of how to best get into the water, strong hands slip beneath your arms and lift you up.

You squeal with joy as Halsin slowly lowers you down into the water.

It’s warmer than you expect, yet still cold as all hells. Goosebumps rise on your body and you shiver. Halsin stops moving, you, halfway submerged, hanging limp in his arms.

“Are you alright?”

Your teeth are not exactly chattering, but it takes some effort to keep it that way.

“‘M fine,” you say. “It’s just… a b-bit cold. But I’m okay. You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d take the ice seas earlier.”

Laughter rumbles from Halsin’s chest like thunder. It makes you smile. He laughs so much more now than he used to.

“Fine. I’ll- just give me a moment.”

You are gently placed down in the pool, cold water up to your neck. Halsin makes a dissatisfied sound.

“Seems I overestimated your size, little flower.”

“Not hard to do when you’re this big,” you mumble, turning around to look up at him, gesturing at his silhouette that stands out against the sun- and stop. 

Your jaw nearly hangs open when you are faced with a nearly naked Halsin. You blink and shake your head, ready to believe that the cold may be causing hallucinations. Maybe you never woke up from your sickbed - maybe this is a dream. Maybe you died on the battlefield and this is Celestia.

Halsin sheds the last layers of clothing covering himself, and it’s all you can do not to say fuck me quite loudly. You bite your lip, but before you can even process the situation, Halsin has slipped into the self-made pool with you.

The water seems to heat up the second he is in there with you, his body so close to yours you could barely fit a leaf between the two of you. His eyes are bright gold in the sunshine, and he takes a deep breath, his chest expanding.

You stare and stare and hope you are not being all too obvious about it. Carefully, you take a step back only to slip on the muddy ground.

Halsin catches you easily, your body pressed against his, and you think that the water might start to boil any second now.

“Thanks,” you murmur, straightening up. His hand lets go of you as he takes a step back himself - the furthest he can go, even though there is stll barely space between you.

“Are you warm enough now?” he rumbles, sounding amused. There is a note of something else in his voice - a strain; not impatience, but something close to it. You press your hands to your sides awkwardly.

“Yeah… yeah, this is better. Thank-”

“No need to thank me.” Halsin interrupts you, abruptly turning around, away from you. The water that is up to your neck barely reaches halfway up his back. “I shall stay here so you don’t get sick on top of all your other injuries. Take all the time you need.”

You wish the water wasn’t so clear that you can see every detail of his backside. You wish his hair was not so soft, shining in the sun. You wish you could not see the muscles of his back ripple when he shifts, and that his shoulders would not look so perfectly round and juicy it makes your mouth water. You wish it was not so hard to avert your eyes.

A golden glitter in the water catches your eye. It travels up Halsin’s calf, his thigh. He shakes his head like he is swatting away flies, and the spark in the water fades.

What the hells was that?

You frown; but the water is winning you over. Your legs already hurt from standing, though the water makes the weight more bearable, and as much as you wish to stay here forever, tucked closely into your little corner of the world, feeling Halsin’s body next to yours, you have to admit you are feeling a little tired.

So, you get to work, scrubbing yourself down, dunking your head into the water and trying to extrapolate the filth from your hair. You are fairly certain Halsin must have at least wiped you down with a washcloth after rescuing you, since your body is not still covered entirely in guts and blood and dirt, but you have not had a proper bath in so long.

You sigh quietly as you wash your hair, your shoulders, your thighs, scrubbing and scrubbing until you feel raw in the best way. One of your arms hangs uselessly by your side, the bone on the mend but not healed, and soon, your other arm burns with exhaustion.

Halsin has not turned around to face you, though from his relaxed stance you are guessing he is probably basking in the sun with his eyes closed. You try and push through the pain and exhaustion, but eventually, you have to admit defeat.

“Halsin?” You tap his shoulder blade. A flash of light appears in the water, gone as soon as it came. His neck turns slightly.

“Yes?”

“Can you… help me?” you ask shyly. Finally, he turns around, his expression soft and controlled.

“What do you need help with, my angel?”

You shiver at the gravel in his voice, at the way he looks at you - with eyes burning, though you don’t dare to hope it may be desire. Maybe he is just getting impatient.

“I can’t reach,” you explain and point to your back. “Not with this arm, and-”

Large hands roam across your body, careful to avoid all the sore spots and healing wounds.

“Of course,” he grumbles. “Turn around.”

You blink up at him, then carefully spin around - you have learned your lesson from last time - holding onto the edge of the pool.

Halsin’s fingers are rough, but not in an uncomfortable way. His palms are soft when he slowly rubs small circles into your back, washing away dirt and grime, showering you in his attention and his care. You catch the golden sparkle in the water again, but when you twist to see, it is already gone again. It must be the sun.

You close your eyes and let yourself sink into the feeling of Halsin so close to you.

Something tightens in your belly at the way he touches you - the gentleness his large hands are capable of more than you can handle. The way his hands could so easily wrap around your waist makes your heart stumble.

Halsin’s hands glide up your back easily, up to your hairline, roaming across your shoulder blades, and back down, stopping just shy of the small of your back. A quiet moan escapes from your throat at the touch, and you stiffen. Halsin carries on as if nothing has happened.

Fine. If he can ignore it, then so can you.

You are fairly certain that you are clean at this point, but Halsin is not stopping on his own, and who would you be to tell him to stop? You close your eyes and relax into his touch, into the soft pads of his fingers that dig into your shoulders in just the right way, the warmth of his body that you can feel even through the water.

“Good,” he mumbles eventually, his hands vanishing from your back.. “I know you must be tired. Are you satisfied?”

With you? Never, you want to say. What comes out instead is a vague,

“Mmhhm.”

Halsin chuckles quietly.

“Oh, you are exhausted, my love. Come on, I will take you to bed.”

Your eyes are falling shut when he heaves himself out of the water, and you can’t even open your mouth to make a silly joke about being taken to bed by him. You could slap yourself for not being able to keep your eyes open - oh, to see him one more time, to take him in in all his glory in the fading light of the day. 

Halsin lifts you out of the water easily. A shiver runs through him that makes you crack your eyes open. His irises glow golden in the sinking sun, and you smile at the sight. He smiles back at you, wrapping you in cloth, and carries you back to your cave, and back to your bed.

You are half-asleep when your head hits the pillow, so you can’t even blame yourself when your voice asks sleepily:

“Will you stay here with me tonight?”

Halsin gently pulls his hand from your grasp.

“Not tonight, my angel,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek so softly you wonder if you imagined it. “But I’ll be right outside should you need me.”

⋆༻༺⋆༺༻⋆••●••⋆༺༻⋆༻༺ ⋆

» Next Chapter

Hello my darlings! I have been consumed whole by BG3 and the big bear man, so I hope you enjoy! (Lmk if you want to not be tagged in this little series, I'm just going to tag my usuals)

@cyarbika @deewithani @ficsbynight @kote-wan @ariadnes-red-thread @rescuethewretched @twistedstitcher27 @kakashibabe02 @writingbylee @purgetrooperfox @basilbumble @witchklng @lackofhonor @ashotofspotchka @sailor-blossom @misogirl828 @amyroswell @darkjedipoptarts @pinkiemme @sleepingsun501 @fett-djarin @samanthacookieone @tortor-mcgee @corrabell @queen--kenobi @elegantduckturtle @felinaone @palpipeen @wild-karrde @obeydontstray @obeydontstray @nomercyforthewarrior @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @thefact0rygirl @everythingyouwanted @equalityforcats @cagrame @ladykatakuri @snakerune @shadesofshatteredblue @100lxtters @damerondala @tachyon-girl @rintheemolion @pickleprickle @mando-amando @certified-anakinfucker @baba-fett @ulchabhangorm

[lizardboiii]

Tongue Tied┃One Piece

[Protective!Dracule Mihawk x Poneglyph Speaking!Reader]

│Summary: Washed up on a gloomy shore, your only solace is a dark an empty castle. Yet, when the castle's only resident finally returns, you are met with an undeniable problem. The language you speak is completely dead to his world.

"Flailing your hands around isn't going to make me understand you any more."

"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐!"

・❥・

│cw: 18+, SFW, violent undertones, f!reader, mihawk's eyes, terrible nicknames

│wc: 1.8k

│chapters: I II III

│notes: poneglyph writing/speaking in different font. normal font is any other language as written. enjoy <3

・❥・

│Chapter I: Bird of Prey

Squawking.

Soft and high pitch, the incessant cries of seagulls flooded your ears like a symphony. You groaned audibly at the noise. An action you almost instantly regretted as a sudden rush of frigid sea water seeped into your cracked mouth. 

Hacking up a storm, you were quick to come to your, mostly delirious, senses. You laid sprawled out on a strange gloomy shore. The water, almost too calm for your liking, combined with an eerie fog rolling in from the seemingly endless coastline, felt as if you entered purgatory. 

Stumbling to your soaked feet, you tested your balance. Though your legs wavered slightly, you managed to pull yourself from the water’s surprisingly strong tide. You felt like you might be sucked back out to sea. 

Swallowing nervously, you grimaced at the bitter taste of salt still lathered on your tongue. It was a sickly reminder of your current predicament. You were completely stranded, alone. Clenching your eyes shut, you replayed the moments before the disaster. 

Your rickety fishing boat swayed innocently on the open water, unaware of the massive storm brewing overhead. You had no time to prepare, no time to act, no time to ensure any self-preservation. In the blink of an eye, the sky blackened.

The small white capping waves surrounding you abruptly grew in size and violence. Your small boat stood no chance. The futile struggle to stay right side up only lasted moments. With one final wave, your boat capsized from the continuous abuse.  

Shrieking, your body was thrown into the raging sea like a rag doll. You struggled hard against the current, only managing to break the water’s surface every couple of seconds. 

Eventually, your arms grew too tired, too weak, too heavy. It became more of a struggle to convince yourself to stay afloat than to fight the waves dragging you beneath their depths. Then, the world went dark.

Taking a deep breath, you willed away any more dreadful thoughts. The sooner you could find another spare ship the quicker you could go back home.

Scanning your surroundings, you searched for any ships, abandoned or not. Immediately your eyes caught a shocking scene. Nestled far beyond the shore, a massive crumbling castle towered over the island. You couldn't help but remark how fitting it was.

The discovery did little to encourage you. An abandoned castle meant no life, and no life meant no ships. You threaded your fingers through your hair. How could this get any worse?

The sound of thunder mocked your internal monologue. Groaning loudly, you began your venture towards the lonesome castle in an attempt to escape the rapidly forming storm. 

You managed to reach the half point mark before your skin began to crawl. You couldn't help but feel like something, or someone, was watching you through the underbrush. Though you tried to chalk it up to paranoia, you swore you saw something red glowing within the trees. It was just your luck to be marooned on a haunted island.

Whether it was divine intervention or simply uninterest, you managed to reach the chipped steps of the castle unscathed. Although that didn't stop you from hightailing it inside. 

A closer look inside the fortress told you just how regal it once appeared to be: large stained glass windows, tall decorative pillars, and corridors that seemed to stretch for miles. You were in awe from the moment you entered.

In due time, you found your way to an equally extravagant dining room. The wood of the table was scratched and weathered, but ultimately well taken care of. However, the real centerpiece of the room was a massive chair befitting the end.

The plush seat was adorned with gold trim and a deep red leather. You wondered if someone had lugged it in there from the throne room. Swiping a finger across the armrest, you rubbed your fingers together. A thick layer of dust slowly floated to the ground.

You hummed more so to yourself, “𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍.”

Spinning on your heel, you shamelessly plopped yourself down on the gaudy throne. It wouldn't hurt to live in a palace. For a short while at least. You could stay there until you were able to either build another boat or be lucky enough to be rescued.

You smiled, “𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗.”

・❥・

After a month of trial and error, it seemed like you greatly overestimated your raft crafting capabilities. The trees on the island were far too thick for you to cut down with no ax, and any driftwood washed up on the beach seemed to crumble from even the gentlest touch.

You were starting to wonder if you’d be trapped there forever. 

That was until you ventured out on your daily search for partly salvageable driftwood. Aloft the gentle waves was an all too strange… ship? Raft? Casket? To be honest, you weren’t exactly sure what it was.

There was only thing you knew for sure, the small vessel was currently barreling towards your remote island. You could barely contain your excitement. 

You were going home.

Dropping the withered planks in your hands, you allowed them to shatter against the plush sand before bolting to get closer with the ship. Your eyes remained locked in on the crossed shaped mast that grew ever closer. Its black sails signaling “Freedom”.

Your tunnel vision made you stumble and trip over your own feet as you ran. And when you weren't running - you were crawling. Your hands desperately clawed at the damp sand in order to lift yourself back to your feet. You could not bear to lose your fleeting chance of leaving your island prison.

Eventually, the gothic ship docked. Its black sails were slowly being pulled into bundles when you finally managed to reach it. And reach it you did. 

You met the ship with little discretion. Squabbling and frantic, you made no effort to contain your emotions in front of the ship’s presumed Captain. Manners could wait until your safety was secured.

Thrusting your hands in the air, you made your presence widely known, “𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎!”

The man before you hesitated slightly before releasing his hold on the black stained linen. Turning his obscured face, you noted the lackluster expression he wore. He seemed neither surprised nor unsurprised, merely…inconvenienced.  

“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞,” you laughed awkwardly, “𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗, 𝙼𝚢 𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝙰 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠!”

The man greeted your pitiful tangent with a stagnant silence. If you hadn't noticed his previous disinterest, you definitely noticed it now. Taking a deep breath, you internally assessed your newly appointed “savior”.

He stood tall, extremely so. He was taller than any man you knew on your home island. You assumed you'd only reach his chest if you stood side by side. However, he certainly did not lack in the muscle department either. He was broad, thick even. You wondered if his shoulders were as firm as they looked.

Gradually, your eyes wandered to an elegantly crafted coat. The dark red of his sleeves were a stark contrast against his unnaturally pale skin which, unsurprisingly, he left on full display. Not that you minded of course.

However, the most striking attribute he bore was his eyes. They shone brighter than any golden jewel found on the Grand Line, rivaling the sun itself. You certain even Helios swooned over his canary colored irises.

Entranced, you allowed yourself to be captivated. The thick black rims surrounding his pupils produced an almost stained glass appearance. All you wanted to do was consume more, read into them like a devout worshiper. It was as if they bore scripture.

You unconsciously shifted forward, trying to get a closer look. That was your first mistake. Abruptly, those very eyes sharpened with hostility, sizing you up like a hawk. It seemed your sudden movement labeled you a threat.

“Who are…”

The temperature felt as if it plummeted. Icy and thick, you didn't need hands around your neck to feel like you were being strangled. You couldn't understand why this was happening, mainly because…

“You?”

You had no idea what he was saying. 

Hands trembling, you stared at the man above you in confusion. You were sure if you did not respond he could, and would, take action. Maybe if you weren't quick enough in answering he’d kidnap you and sell you off for some pocket change. Or worse, he would kill you for just causing him trouble.

You racked your brain for any semblance of a response. What could you have even done to warrant such an intense reaction?

“…𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝,” You swallowed hard, “𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍?”

The tense atmosphere gave way slightly, releasing its invisible hold on your throat. 

Sighing quietly, the ravenette grumbled to himself, “It seems we don’t speak the same language. How inconvenient.”

Annoyed, the taller man searched your person with his honey laced eyes. Satisfied with his findings, he returned his attention back to his vessel. You pondered if your lack of weapons made you into a problem that could be “dealt with later”.

However, you didn't want to be tossed aside until later. You wanted to return home. And if that meant attempting communication with a hostile vampiric asshole, you'd have to try!

“𝚄𝚖,” You scrambled to the other side of the man's ship in an attempt to regain his attention.

“𝚂𝚒𝚛, 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝!”

Goldy, newly nicknamed, paid you no mind, favoring to strap down his ship without haste. You chewed on the inside of your cheek in frustration.

Shuffling beside him, you implemented drastic measures. However, your hand only managed to move a centimeter towards Goldy’s arm before your wrist was swiftly snatched in a painful grip.

Not wasting a moment of Goldy’s notice, you began frantically pointing at yourself with your free hand, “𝙸!”

You motioned at the ship, “𝙽𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

Goldy released his iron grip and stood to his full height, “Stop being troublesome.”

“𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚝. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!”

The ravenette merely continued to stare at you disinterested. Perhaps he was debating if cutting you down now would be easier than listening to nonsensical ramblings.

Nevertheless, you waved your hands down your body, “𝙼𝚎!” 

You gestured at his ship, “𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

You clasped your hands together, “𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎!”

"Flailing your hands around isn't going to make me understand you any more."

"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐!"

Goldy easily ignored your pestering and walked around you, “I don’t have time for this.”

“𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝!” You ran after his form, “𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝! 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝! 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

You followed Goldy with continued pleas. Yet, his long legs persisted across the desolate beach to the hidden pathway located in the tree line.

Your brows furrowed at the observation. It took you a week to find the secret trail that led from the beach straight to the castle. How could he have found it so easily?

You finally fell silent as Goldy traversed the path like the back of his hand. He walked confidently. It was as if he had been on the island before.

A sudden thought crossed your mind. 

Goldy lived here.

・❥・

[redr0sewrites]

i love you most - Jason Todd x reader

🥀A/n: based on this, basically this is jason comforting u when ur having an anxiety attack

🥀Word Count: 1k

🥀Cw: anxiety, slight disassociation, angst to fluff, incredibly self indulgent

acknowledging that it was a chemical imbalance was one thing, but using it as an excuse was another. you knew you should have taken your medication, you knew you shouldn't have stayed up so late, and you knew that pushing yourself too far would make you anxious, and yet you did it anyway. blame and guilt wriggles its way deep into your chest, lodging itself like a stone in your stomach and refusing to let go of its chokehold on you.

a small part of your mind, that sounds suspiciously like your lovers voice, whispers that it's not your fault. that your valid and loved. but the louder, raging, violent anxiety drowns out that tiny voice, like a tumultuous storm engulfing a small boat.

the only sound within the darkness of yours and Jason's shared bedroom is your own ragged, heavy breathing. you bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, struggling to muffle your noises. it was bad enough that you had let yourself get anxious again, for no real reason at all, but it would be even worse if you woke up Jason. it was so rare that he got to sleep so comfortably besides you, and it wasn't fair to him.

it wasn't fair at all.

and yet, that didn't stop you from selfishly wanting him. attempting to self soothe, you start rocking in place, ignoring the tears welling in your eyes and the lump in your throat. you were barely aware of your nails digging into your scalp, fisting themselves into your hair as your breathing refuses to level out. tears of frustration slide down your cheeks, you hate this, you hate feeling this way. the anger only makes you cry harder, but at this point you can't even bring yourself to care.

your barely aware of rustling besides you, too engulfed in your own self depricating thoughts to notice Jason stirring.

"baby? you okay?" he murmurs, voice husky from sleep.

no. no no no no no. you weren't supposed to wake him, it was selfish, it was wrong, he was asleep and never got to rest and it wasn't fair-

"hey. hey, it's okay, its okay- fuck-" Jason sits up, immediately moving to place a comforting hand on your shoulder before stopping himself.

"can i touch you?" he whispers, and you nod fervently, collapsing against his chest with a soft sob as he wraps his arms around you. one hand rubs up and down your back while the other cups your face. your nails dig into his sides, pulling him impossibly close, but he doesn't even flinch.

"shh, shh, 's okay, i got you doll, i've got you. its okay." his words help soothe the raging storm in your head, but it isn't enough. guilt is still bubbling inside you, and you cry harder, sobs wrenching from deep within your chest.

"m sorry, 'm so sorry- hic- i can't-"

"shh, i know, it's okay. you don't have to be sorry, it's okay." his voice is calm and steady, like an anchor that weighs you down and keeps you steady. he continues rubbing your back, holding you as you rock back and forth, struggling to breathe. instead of digging into your own skin, Jason subtly makes sure your hands stay firm on his sides or back, where you couldn't do yourself any harm. its not long before you begin to level out, and Jason, as attuned as ever, notices as well.

"i need you to breathe for me, is that okay?" you nod, and he grabs one of your hands, and places it on his chest. "just breathe at the same time as me. it's going to be okay, i promise." you nod numbly, listening to his instructions without a second thought. you shake and threaten to burst into tears as your breathing refuses to regulate, but you swallow hard, refusing to succumb to the anxiety once again.

you hiccup a little as you begin to get more grounded. you've exhausted yourself, and you slump against Jason out of pure and utter fatigue. your breathing matches him almost perfectly, and you can hear his heart beat rhythmically in your ear.

"i'm so sorry for waking you," you whisper, voice cracking slightly as you speak. "i tried to stop it, i really did, im sorry-" Jason cuts you off by wrapping his arms even tighter around you, nestling you into the crook of his neck and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"don't apologize. i want you to wake me up, i promise. i would much rather have you wake me up so i can help you than leave you to suffer in silence..." he trails off, and you sigh.

"m sorry."

"s'ok. i get it. you should go to sleep," he accentuates his words with another kiss on the crown of your head, squeezing you impossibly tighter. "you look exhausted."

Jason lays down on his chest, pulling you with him so that your laying on top of him. you're quick to snuggle in close as sleep sounds very nice at the moment, and with your anxiety mostly gone, exhaustion had appeared in its wake. Jason rubs your back absentmindedly as you begin to drift. your eyes are burning from all the crying, and you soon find yourself much less than conscious.

just as sleep begins to claim you, Jason speaks in a low rumble.

"i love you, doll. i hope you know that."

mustering up all of the strength you have left, you giggle softly. "i love you more," you whisper, inhaling his comforting scent.

"not possible. i love you most."

un proof read and un checked because um. yea. based on a real life scenario except there was no Jason and i made up with this mini fic idea in my head instead of actually coping lmao. i tried to keep the cause of the anxiety very ambiguous to appeal to readers, but overall this was definitely very self indulgent and based on my own personal experiences w anxiety. anyways!!!! hope u enjoyed, MY 2K EVENT REQS ARE DEFINITELY STILM OPEN I NEED MOREEE HEHE