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toxicanonymity · 2 months

Text

The Spread

PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k | MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: You hide and don't get slaughtered. Tommy secretly keeps you. He's kinda sweet if you're good.

WARNINGS: I8+ Canon-typical violence (implied) & setting, captivity, dark caretaking, manhandling, sleeper hold, oral f receiving, noncon unsafe piv, finger gagging, dark fluff, tommy has a praise kink, stockholm syndrome vibes. NO human skin mask: leather partial mask shown in photo. He is feral and naive due to his family. No use of Y/N. Divider by gasolinerainbowpuddles.

SIZE KINK - Reader is much smaller than Leatherface, can be carried and maneuvered. He is 6’5”, thicc and STRONG.

You barely escaped the so-called law man, and your friends weren’t so lucky. They got chased right into the lair of a chainsaw-wielding giant.

“C’mon, Tommy,” the Sheriff encouraged the giant, “Just like the slaughterhouse.”

Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.

“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.

While they were distracted, you ducked into a nearby woodshed. You didn't dare go far – you had encountered too many hazards on the property to trust your footing, and couldn't risk calling attention. Instead, you sat there in the shed, paralyzed, listening to your friends get butchered. One by one, their squeals turned animalistic until a wet thwack or rev of a motor cut them off.

Finally, there were no more screams.

Huddled in a corner of the woodshed, you tried to keep your wits about you. The shed was about the size of a small dorm room. There were stacks of wood all around–some freshly cut, some rotted–and hay covered the floor.

You were in a tank top and Daisy dukes with cowboy boots that made you feel like an idiot. You had sap on your knees from crawling over the wood. Taking deep breaths did nothing but fill your nose with cedar - it was only a matter of time before you’d meet your fate. You picked splinters out of your hands as you replayed the chase in your mind. You began to feel sure “Tommy” had seen you run into the shed. If that was the case, you didn't know why he let you go. You could only guess he already had his hands full.

“Think we got’em all, son?” The Sheriff asked.

Tommy grunted.

“That’s my boy,” the Sheriff concluded.

Dusk was approaching. Not long after the Sheriff left, heavy footsteps crunched louder and louder toward the woodshed. Your heart pounded harder with each step. The rickety door busted open with a plume of dust. Tommy’s silhouette consumed almost all the daylight that remained.

The door frame would’ve been tall enough for most men, but Tommy had to duck on his way in. He carried an ax. Each step he took shook the entire structure. His breathing was loud, his mouth hanging open below the leather that covered his nose. The partial mask covered his chin too, but not his mouth. It was fastened with two straps behind his head nestled in thick, chestnut hair that came down around his shoulders.

He approached you cautiously and paused when he was an arm’s length away. You whimpered, knees held to your chest. He sniffed around like an animal. Then he brushed a stray section of hair out of his eyes, and you saw a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. You tried to compose yourself, wondering if your fear could trigger him.

He knelt down to get a better look at you. He reached for you, and you jumped. He grumbled and held up a massive finger less than an inch from your mouth, telling you to be quiet.

Something possessed you to reach for his hand. He let you move it.

You put his palm on your cheek and watched his chest heave in confusion.

He tilted his head and stayed crouched there for a moment, staring at you with his brown eyes softening above the leather.

“Attaboy,” you whispered, repurposing the Sheriff’s words.

Tommy huffed, then abruptly stood. He left the shed, ax slung over his shoulder. He ducked again on his way out.

He didn't return for a while. You finally dared to open the door just enough to look out, but not for long, startled by an older woman’s voice calling, “Tommy!!! Time for supper.” You shrunk back into your corner, afraid you had been spotted.

You sat there frozen, afraid to run.

Sometime later, you heard a squeaky wheel approach the shed. The door opened more quietly than it had the first time. The hulking silhouette was backlit by a buzzing floodlight in the yard. The man seemed to be more careful and quiet this time. He had brought a few blankets. One of them was tattered, pale yellow bordering what used to be white, and it had Care Bears on it. He put the blanket over your body, coming all the way up to your neck, and patted your head. Then he took a bundle of newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to you like an offering. It smelled like barbecue.

As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Tommy.”

He dropped his head and looked back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Looking at the wall, Tommy offered a short nod before leaving. Then he locked the door from the outside.

After he left, you opened the newspaper. It was too dark to see, but the contents felt like a charred bone with bits of flesh hanging to it. You weren't hungry anyway.

You wrapped yourself tight in the blanket, and to your discomfort, your heart fluttered at the man’s softness with you. You replayed the day’s harrowing events in your mind’s eye and saw him differently than you had at first. Maybe he was nothing but an attack dog. You began to doubt he would've hurt your friends at all if not for the older, more wicked man in uniform.

Maybe Tommy was as much of a prisoner as you were. You wondered if he could talk. You felt sure he could listen.

After sunrise, you awoke to some commotion and heard a vehicle drive away. After a period of silence, you tried to open the door to the shed, but it was securely locked.

Soon, Tommy came back and unlocked it. He moved swiftly toward you with purpose in each heavy step, crouching slightly. The mass of his body strained his shirt. You'd never seen forearms like his. He could surely snap you like a twig, but something told you he wouldn't. Still, your heart raced when he lunged toward you. He reached over a wood pile and used both massive hands to force you onto your feet. He wrapped you in the blanket, then put you over his shoulder like a potato sack.

He put you into his wheelbarrow, then nestled some firewood around you. He looked around furtively as he did it. Then he covered you with another blanket and wheeled you across the bumpy ground, onto a smoother surface. He rolled a garage door down behind you and left you covered in the wheelbarrow as he rummaged around the garage.

You peeked out from the blanket and saw him placing shackles on a table. Your heart raced. You glanced behind you. The garage door was still lifted by a small margin. Maybe big enough to fit through.

You watched in terror as he brought out a mallet. Finally, your body unfroze.

You lowered yourself out of the wheelbarrow as carefully and quietly as you could and crawled toward the narrow opening. As you began to wriggle under it, your ass hit the door, making a noise far too loud to go unnoticed.

Within a split second, his massive hands were firm around your ankles, pulling you toward him, dragging you roughly across the concrete.

He manhandled you like a doll. He forced you onto your back and shook you, then wrapped a massive hand around your neck. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you kicked him. He grunted and grabbed you roughly by the shirt, then sat back on his knees. He held you with your back against his enormous thigh. Your Daisy dukes did nothing to protect your ass from the cold concrete. You thrashed, and he put the crook of his elbow around your neck, then everything faded.

When you woke up, you were chained to the table, with cold, metal shackles on your wrists and one ankle. You were bottomless, and the air was cool between your legs. Your feet were bare. All you had left was your tank top, which you wore without a bra.

You didn't dare move. A foul dust in the air made you sneeze, then Tommy came into view. He was wearing a butcher’s apron, and the sleeves of his dingy, button-up shirt were rolled up to expose those big, hairy forearms. He held the mallet. His eyes were industrious.

“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.

He laid a heavy hand on your shin, and you flinched. He gently placed your free ankle in a shackle, then nailed it shut.

“Please,” you begged.

He laid a hand on your thigh and looked you in the eyes.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked.

He huffed and put the mallet away.

You were relieved until he returned with a meat cleaver. You tensed and squirmed. He laid a hand on your stomach and his searing eyes told you to stay still. He slid the cleaver under your tank top, and you held your breath and looked at the ceiling. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of his knuckles between your breasts.

He violently sliced upward through the fabric, turning your wifebeater into a vest which burst open, freeing your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight and discarded the meat cleaver with a metallic clatter on a nearby shelf.

“Please,” you begged again, then he stuck his fingers in your mouth and peered in. His thick digits tasted like charcoal and salt. Three fingers were enough to stuff the orifice completely. When you stopped whining, he abandoned your mouth.

He cupped a breast, then cupped both of them. He hummed a curious “mm,” Then dragged his thumb down your sternum before stepping away to survey your body.

You felt like a cadaver sliced open for examination. As he slowly stalked around the table, it dawned on you that's what he was doing. He was studying you.

He stopped at a long side of the table – your left side. He brought his face–his leather mask–to your skin, just below your ribs. His hair fell onto your body, and the light brush of it tickled. He paused to loosen the strap at the back of his head. Then he dipped his face to your abdomen again. He turned his head and dragged his cheek, and the leather, over your bare stomach, to your breast. You could hear him desperately sniffing and wondered why he didn't take that thing off.

Lips, hair, and smooth leather dragged across your skin as he wiped his face along your chest. Then his face made its way into your armpit, where a dart of his tongue made you flinch and shiver. His tongue darted out again. He sucked the delicate skin slightly into his mouth before releasing it with a soft grunt.

He paused and pulled away. He pivoted to stand behind your head, then brought his hands to your breasts. Helowered his mouth to your neck and licked you. His hair fell on your nose and smelled like smoke and metal.

He seemed to savor the taste of your skin. He licked longer, harder, the strong slippery muscle of his tongue nudging your jugular. You felt a rush of arousal and shame. He tasted the other side of your neck and hummed in satisfaction. The throbbing between your legs made you wince.

He dragged his tongue down over your chest to lap at your breast. He flattened his tongue to lick your nipple, then began to suckle at it. One thing was clear - this was not for your enjoyment. He was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn't even glance at your face. Whether it was for his pleasure or curiosity, you couldn't be sure. He moaned into your nipple and you knew you must have been gushing onto the table.

After a few seconds, he pulled away from your tit and began to sniff the air. He stalked around the table some more and paused at your shackled feet, staring up between your spread legs. He found the source. His hands dwarfed your thighs as he pushed them further apart. Then he dabbed a thick finger, only grazing your folds as he picked up just a taste of you from the table and brought it to his mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed quietly, staring between your legs. He licked his finger again and his eyes searched the air curiously. Then he grabbed your upper thighs and anchored his thumbs on your outer lips, spreading you open. His heavy gut rested on the table between your feet as he leaned forward. As he lowered his mouth to your cunt, you twitched and felt another rush of shame.

His breath was hot on your cunt, then he dipped his tongue, and you tensed.

He lapped at your entrance, and the physical pleasure made you exhale and relax, while your fear remained. He licked and sucked, and your moan echoed before you could try to cut it short. Your chest was hot with embarrassment, but if he heard the sound, he ignored it.

He fed on your juices like a starved animal. He sucked and slurped, and dug his lips and tongue in, searching for more. The squelching and gurgling sounds were obscene between your legs. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into your hips as he feasted.

The leather mask nudged your clit and made your hips lift into his mouth. He brought a hand to your lower belly to hold you still. Then his tongue plunged into you. You whispered, “good boy,” and your whole body felt weak with shame.

He paused and glanced up, then repeated the action. It was true, some part of you welcomed this, as afraid as you were. In any case, the heat and pressure building in your gut would have to release at some point.

He fucked you with his tongue, nudging your clit with the smooth leather, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You'd never been eaten so voraciously. He moaned into your cunt and the tension was too much to hold. You whimpered as you began to pulse and twitch. His tongue paused as you clenched around it. Then he continued. Your back arched as he sucked it all out of you, swallowing every drop he could find. As your climax waned, you took slow, deep breaths.

Finally, he slowed down. He looked flustered for a moment, then his hand disappeared from your thigh. He pulled his face away, and the leather mask was soaked and shiny. Then he took his apron off. When he stood to put the apron aside, the protrusion in his pants made your breath hitch and your asshole flutter.

Your cunt spasmed once around nothing, and your insides churned as though making room for a massive guest.

You couldn't peel your eyes away. He adjusted himself, then palmed the bulge. His shirt had come untucked. The bottom button wasn't fastened, and his midsection strained the other buttons as his whole torso heaved. He eyed the mess between your legs as he palmed himself.

He seemed to be considering the possibility of stuffing your cunt with whatever monstrosity hid in his pants. He could take anything he wanted, but he didn't look proud of it. This didn't feel like something he did every day.

You decided not to fight back. You told yourself it was for survival, but you also twitched at the thought of him wrecking you. You looked at his crotch, then down between your legs, still gushing at the sight of him barely contained by his pants. The way his whole body wanted to bust out of his clothes made you weak in the knees. He was so solid and strong. You looked again from his crotch to your own, as though your eyes were instructing where to put it in defiance of your better judgment.

He grumbled as he picked up a hammer and approached you, making your heart nearly stop.

He pried the nails out of the shackles, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart fell. Your disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. A man this size, with these capabilities – he could have done serious damage to your body.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You laid on the table patiently looking at the ceiling as he went down to your feet and unshackled your ankles.

Then he grabbed you by the thighs and yanked you toward the end of the table, making you yelp. Your naked crotch came to rest flush against the bulge in his pants, making you ache with arousal. Your thighs trembled in fear.

You looked down toward him and he forced your chin upward, making you look at the ceiling. You pinched your eyes shut. You were at war with your body’s desire. He might kill you. He might actually split you in two. The dying squeals of your friends echoed in your mind. But his hardness swelled against you, and oh, fuck.

His hips backed up and you twitched at the loss of his warm package against you.

With your eyes still pinched shut, you heard his clothes jostling, then he spread your lips apart while he notched his tip against you. It was too big. He held your thighs again and pulled you toward him with a forward thrust and a grunt.

Being impaled with his cock felt like being split open. The girth burned as it stretched you, and you whimpered as your body tried to accommodate him. He stayed inside, and he sighed. You'd never felt so stuffed. He leaned forward, and the contact with your clit provided some relief as your body spread itself more. But still, your heart raced at the prospect of him moving. You prayed he would be gentle.

When you didn't stop whimpering, he stuck his fat, smokey fingers in your mouth again. He placed his other hand on your chest to hold you still, with the crook of his thumb close to your throat. You gagged on his fingers and he removed them. He wiped your saliva onto your nipple before kneading your breast.

Thankfully, you were wet and getting wetter. He held you down and slammed into you. The fullness pushed your thoughts out of the way along with your guts. You kept your eyes shut as he speared into you again.

His breathing and grunting seemed to echo through the room with every snap of his hips. His unholy girth twitched against your walls. He grabbed onto your hips and brutally pounded you. He used you like a sleeve until his moans were drawn out and his breath became ragged. He pulled you back hard and leaned forward, the weight of him resting on your lower abdomen. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation of his climax, but he paused. Your hips lifted, seeking friction for your front.

He pulsed once, making your chest flutter with pleasure, but then he swiftly slid out. He left you twitching for more as he finished coming outside. His cum painted your folds and inner thigh, and he grumbled and turned around. You lowered your chin to look just in time for him to release onto the wheelbarrow and floor. Then he stood there with his broad back heaving as he looked around.

You closed your eyes again and opened them when you felt fabric on your inner thigh. He was wiping you off with the bottom of his shirt. His face and neck were blotched pink, and he had fixed his pants. He was looking at you, chest still heaving when his ears perked up at the distant sound of tires on gravel.

He quicky put your shorts back on and gathered you off the table, nestling you in the wheelbarrow once more. He swaddled you in the old blanket, now wet with his cum, and opened the garage before quickly wheeling you back to the shed.

He placed you in the corner where you had been, just in time for the truck to park. As he turned to leave the shed, you said “Tommy. Can you bring me some water?”

He hesitated then gave a short nod before locking the shed again behind him.

He came back later with a jar of water and a metal bucket. You were shivering in the corner when he came in. He set the bucket down next to you, then placed his hand on the crown of your head and gently moved his fingers as he looked around. Then he abruptly began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled you up from the corner to put the shirt on you. His chest was hairy and broad, and his entire torso was thick, just massive.

“Good Tommy,” you said as he finished putting the shirt on you.

He paused and left it unbuttoned. His eyes were big. He held you by the sides, looking you up and down in the oversized shirt and Daisy dukes. Then he put you back where you were and locked the shed behind him.

The shirt was filthy, cumstained, and reeked of sweat, but it didn’t smell as bad as it should've. It didn't make you sick like it should've. When he left, you wrapped it tight around yourself, then looked in the bucket. There were apples.

Thank you for reading and engaging! Love you guys 🖤 please consider commenting even if this is old. It helps to know what you liked.

If you want more, good news - I have more thots! Feel free to send yours, too.

#leatherface x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface smut #thomas hewitt smut #slasher smut #slasher fucker #tommy hewitt #leatherface x you #thomas hewitt x you #slasher x you #slasher x reader #tw noncon #dark fic #toxicanonymity ☠️#slasher fandom #tw rape #texas chainsaw massacre #leatherface

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hannieehaee · 16 days

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How about yn taking care of Jeonghan's broken ankle ?

content: idol!jeonghan x nonidol!reader, established relationship, massage, mentions of nudity and showering together (not explicit), mentions of his injured ankle, fluff, etc.

wc: 1213

a/n: genuinely believe he'd either immediately feed into being taken care of or fight you all the way through it. there's no in between

masterlist

"yah! i already told you you don't have to do this!", whined jeonghan despite his clear struggle to get himself up from bed.

"baby, it's only been a few days since you got the cast on. i'm going to help you, i don't care how stubborn you are," you argued back, still helping him up by offering your shoulder for him to lean on.

with a frustrated yet playful groan, jeonghan used your arm for support, struggling to get up from the bed as you helped him get on his two feet with the support of the crutches you'd been holding out for him.

he grumbled a 'thank you' and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek when he finally got a firm hold of his crutches and was able to stand on his own, making his way out of the room with you following behind.

jeonghan always enjoyed being the caretaker in every relationship in his life. whether it be for his parents, sister, members, or you, jeonghan felt an innate need to take care of others in every way he could.

however, after recently hurting his ankle and requiring surgery for it, jeonghan had found himself unable to work his way through his usual daily tasks, not entirely used to the current state of his ankle.

he realized that his situation wasnt too bad. it couldve been worse, after all. but it was still proving to be quite an inconvenience, specially as he was bound to stay home for a few months while his members continued to work and tour without him.

jeonghan knew how lucky he was to have you stay home with him to tend to his every need, – even to an exaggerated extent – but he still couldnt help but fight you in every step of the way, insisting that you taking care of small tasks such as getting up to get a water bottle for him or brushing his hair in the morning was completely unnecessary. he enjoyed being tended to immensely, but he simply felt badly about having you go out of your way, unable to give anything back in return.

unfortunately for him, you were equally as stubborn as him, refusing to not care for the poor boy as he pretended not to struggle through simple tasks.

"hannie! stop moving! just let me wash you, okay?"

"you don't have to help me bathe! i can still move my arms!", he whined, throwing his head back in a petulant manner.

"jeonghan!" you grabbed his face in your hands and made him look at you, groaning at the pleased look on his face at knowing he was wearing you down, "i'm going to help you! i don't care if you can do this on your own, i want to take care of you, okay? now sit your ass down and stay still while i wash your hair. understood?"

he grinned at your serious demeanor, finding the furrow of your eyebrows and pout of your lips to be extremely adorable, even if he was driving you crazy. he nodded in a childlike fashion and gave a response of 'yes ma'am' before leaning back against you and letting you squirt some shampoo on his head.

it was easy for him to relax in your hold as you ran your hands through his hair, becoming extremely sleepy at the soft scratches against his scalp. humming against you, he murmured thank you's for being so nice to him despite him being a pest.

you shushed him with a kiss to his bare back and continued taking care of him. you knew how hard he worked, and how he was likely sore in all other areas of his body due to his endless and extraneous work. truly, you were kind of taking this break as an excuse to pamper him in ways you'd always wanted to – except that in regular circumstances, he would always pull a fast one on you and flip the cards, taking care of you instead.

after washing him up (and him insisting he help you wash up too), you helped your pretty boy get dressed and make his way to bed, where you held him in your arms as you attempted to sleep.

after feeding him his medicine, you fell into slumber next to each other, holding onto one another for warmth. falling asleep next to him was your favorite part, as you knew he was fully relaxed and no longer in pain – and he also couldnt fight you when you'd gradually wake up to check in on him.

it had now been a few weeks since jeonghan's surgery. the cast had been removed, but he still struggled a lot with soreness and was advised to stay home for a few more weeks. however, this did not derail you in your insistence to aid him with tasks such as bathing every so often or making his meals.

it took a bit for you to realize, extremely sleepy after a long day at work, – having only gone back a few days due to jeonghan's insistence – but jeonghan began fidgeting in the middle of the night, letting out quiet groans of complaint. blinking the sleepiness out of your eyes, you sat up to check what was wrong, making him sigh at being caught struggling (god forbid).

"baby? what's wrong?"

"nothing, angel, go back to sleep," he dismissed, sitting up and bringing his legs up to sit cross legged, pulling his hurt ankle higher up so he could rub at it.

"is it hurting, hannie?"

he nodded, wincing when he rubbed particularly hard. that's when you intervened, helping him turn towards you so you could take his foot into your own hand.

"let me help, okay?" you murmured, giving him a look of compassion that practically begged for him to not fight you on this.

likely very sleepy and worn down, he nodded silently, humming when your hands began to expertly rub at his foot, making him groan in appreciation at how well you were able to rid him of the soreness.

you massaged his foot silently for a few minutes, enjoying the low groans of pleasure jeonghan occasionally let out at the pain relief you were giving him.

"how are you so good at it?", he breathed out, eyes closed in relaxation.

you chuckled, "i did some research. wanted to make sure you didn't feel any pain as you healed."

he groaned adorably, "you're an angel," he breathed in complete relaxation, "don't deserve you."

"yeah, i know," you giggled.

"yah!"

"sorry, hannie. love you," you stopped for a second to grab at one of his hands and kiss the back of it, letting go to go back to his ankle.

jeonghan had different plans, though, grabbing onto your hand and pulling you to him, once again cuddling you on your shared bed.

"hannie, the massage-"

he grumbled, shaking his head, "feel so much better already. wanna sleep with you now, okay? just lay with me," he nuzzled his head into your hair, stubborn in the way he held you far too close to him (but just close enough).

"love you," he murmured, "thank you for taking care of me this past month."

"you're so fucking annoying," you rebutted, "love you more."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen #svt #seventeen oneshot #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios

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mochinomnoms · 2 months

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i know in the leech family that its a running joke that the mc is their cleaner shrimp and i cant help but think when its finally the leech parents turn!

Imagine mc and the leech family are going out to do some family bonding and the mc causally picks off some lint or hair off papa leech or mama leech and their mood just instantly brightens :D They go like “thank you dear! Is there anything else on me?” And the parents are just spinning around happy because their child-in-law is doing shrimp things with them! (Meanwhile jade and floyd are off to the side being like “what about me D:<”)

also may I be 🪸 anon or 💫 anon?

YEEAAAAH FAMILY SHRIMP!!!

I think it's a very sweet idea! Whether it's just one of the twins or both that you've gotten involved in, they both enjoy your fretting and picking at them. Floyd most often gets your attention, as he's always getting up to stuff and messy. However, he's more prone to scrapes from basketball and burns from cooking at the lounge, so he gets lots of attention from you. Floyd loves it, he loves being taken care of for once, instead of being feared or seen as a big bad eel. He needs loving too! He needs to be treated tenderly and kindly. Floydie just wants to be loved, and who better to do that than you?

Jade on the other hand will just get dirty when hiking and foraging, but rarely get any scrapes or cuts. He might bruise here or there depending on how it went, but over all you're more likely to need to clean stray twigs, leaves, and dirt for him. In fact, you'll find Jade approaching you after his extensions, every single time, asking for your assistance. Maybe join him in the bath and help him clean up? As his cleaner shrimp? Pretty pleeease? After all, the caretaker needs some caring too sometimes.

When you eventually get introduced to the family and properly fit into your place with the Leeches, with an appropriate shrimp merform! Papa and Mama Leech are just happy that their boys have such a sweet partner. You further solidify your spot when they learn about your “shrimp” tendencies. They think it's so cute! So imagine their delight when you start tending to them like you do their sons!

Papa Leech will often find himself get into...”scuffles” after work. Normally, the family doctor would be available to patch him up, but they were already attending to a patient of theirs. Here comes their resident shrimp, offering to patch him up! You babbling about Floyd and how he always got hurt from his activities at school, so it wasn't a problem. At this point, you're practically a pro! Papa Leech has stars in his eyes, though, he has the cutest child-in-law!!! And you've been doing this for his boys, for free??!! Screw Floyd and Jade if they ever break up with you (like they'd ever would) cause Papa is keeping you in the family for the foreseeable future. Not only are you convenient, but you care for him like family, he'd be a barnacle to let you go. If you're not already married to his boys, prepare yourself, cause he's already organizing the engagement and wedding. No, he did not ask his boys beforehand.

As for Mama Leech, she's been repeated described as a worrywart, and overly cautious, especially regarding her family. I think that, since you weren't brought up in the family like her boys, would be prone to keeping you at her side. If Papa and the twins are off for “work” then you can find her snatching you up for some mother-in-law time to keep you nice and safe! This is when she gets her own version of shrimp tending, via you doing her hair and makeup! She does love dressing up and looking pretty, and is delighted when you start brushing through her hair with your fingers, braiding it and softly applying her lipstick. It's been so long since her boys were little and played dress up with her! But here you are, so sweet and soft and gentle with her! She's now become attached, if you so much as try and leave the family, Mama is sobbing and begging you to stay, while also strangling her sons for what ever they did wrong (she knows they did something the little troublemakers).

I'd say that the twins only get mildly jealous, after all, the more time you spend with their parents the less they get with you! And you're their partner!!! They suppose they should be happy that you get along so well with their parents. Except Floyd. Floyd wishes to monopolize your time and will hide you away with Jade in a dark coral nook. He called you Shrimpy first, it's his right!!!

(I will dub thee 🪸 anon!! welcome!)

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #leech parents #sweeties!!! the best in laws!!#🪸 anon

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bluejeanstrash · 8 months

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it’s 1:23 am when seungcheol realises you’re no longer in bed with him. even though he’s got his back turned to you, there’s this gnawing feeling of something missing that stirs him awake.

he turns to see the empty space; sheets still warm with traces of you. he then turns back around to check what the time is, feeling his eyelids go heavy as he dozes off, phone still in hand.

it’s 2:02 am when seungcheol wakes up again, the phone falling from his grip, hitting the carpeted floor. he jolts awake, sitting up to see you’re still gone.

‘babe?’ he calls out to a silent apartment. he tries your name next to no answer. he’s worried now — a growing anxiety fills his chest as he rushes out of bed.

‘baby?’ he checks the bathrooms first. then the other bedroom. the kitchen next. and as he’s walking across the living room, he sees your silhouette on the couch.

he rushes over, turning on the lamp behind you as a soft orange hue illuminates the room and your face along with it. you look awful. the colour’s drained from your face and your hair’s all matted — sticking to your forehead, and somehow you’re sweating and shivering all at once.

‘what the..’ he brings the back of his hand to your forehead, gently pressing it to your skin. he checks your cheeks next, and finally your throbbing neck ‘you’re burning!’

‘why didn’t you wake me up!’

‘you have schedule’ you mumble as he frowns, getting upset.

‘that doesn’t matter. don’t do that again’ he scolds, immediately softening his tone when you let out a weak cough.

‘have you taken your temperature yet?’ you nod, turning your head to the digital thermometer sitting on the table.

‘okay. let me take it again’ he gives the thermometer a shake before wiping it down.

you open your mouth as he places it under your tongue seeing the temperature rise till it finally stops at a worrying 101°F.

‘hmmn..’ he chews on his lower lip ‘we’ll keep an eye on it’

what felt warm a second ago is now cold as you shiver, feeling a sudden chill. seungcheol pulls the blanket up, tucking in your sweaty body tighter.

‘what about medicine? did you take anything?’ his one hand now tenderly stroking your hair as you shake your head no.

you had tried but looking for medicine was a pretty heavy ask when the room was spinning with every step so you decided to just lie down instead.

‘okay!’ he gets up with a determined sigh, any sleepiness long gone. now seungcheol’s in complete caretaker mode with his only objective to make you feel better.

through the haze of the fever, you can hear him pottering around, moving from room to room — there are sounds of water being poured and drawers being opened, rummaged through, and shut.

he returns around 5 minutes later, hands full.

‘you need to take medicine, okay? wait, baby, have you eaten?’ you shake your head again.

‘no, you need to eat something first’

‘i’m too tired’

he insists on something small, disappearing into the kitchen and coming back with a pack of biscuits — not the good kind, but the boring digestive ones that will fill you up a little more.

‘come on, let’s sit up’ you groan, feeling the room spin as he helps you up.

‘two biscuits. that’s it. open’

you open your mouth letting him feed it to you.

‘bite’ and you do — crumbs falling on your blanket which he promptly brushes away. ‘one more bite’ and you follow the instructions till two are done and dusted away.

‘one more’

‘i already had two!’

‘and now we’ll have one more’

you groan a no.

‘come on. just one more. for me’ you let him have his way, too tired to fight, falling back down immediately as you take the last bite.

‘now medicine’ he pulls you back up, handing over a pill and glass of water as you take it through half-shut eyes, resting against his body for a second.

‘good job. now we can lie down again'

after you're tucked back in, he sits on the floor next to you, wringing and then bringing a cool damp cloth to your burning forehead.

‘that feels nice’ it does. like a cool breeze on a hot day.

‘yeah? good’ he smiles, one hand gently stroking your hair back.

‘go to sleep’ you mumble ‘i’ll be fine. thank you’

‘i’ll sleep once you do’ he says firmly, hand still on your hair.

you're still dizzy but the steady strokes of seungcheol’s hand on you is a constant comfort. it takes around 10 minutes till you’re asleep.

he finally gets up, kissing his fingers and then planting that kiss to your forehead.

he heads into the bedroom, grabbing his stuff to come lay down on the floor beside you.

it’s 3:07 am when seungcheol falls back asleep, making sure he’s right where he belongs — next to you.

#i started writing weeks ago in the middle of being sick #which is also why i haven’t written in so long i’ve been sick and i apologise #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #scoups #scoups x reader #seungcheol imagine #scoups fluff #scoups drabble #seungcheol drabble #seungcheol x you #scoups x you #svt fanfic

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moonstruckme · 8 months

Note

not sure if you’re taking requests buttttt poly!marauders but they’re kinda overprotective bfs and she sneaks out to go to a party with marlene or her girlfriends but they find out and show up at the party 💞

Hi don't worry, I am! I think it should show on the requests page linked in my pinned post, but please let me know if it doesn't, I'm still figuring tumblr out and often mess up! I hope this is alright honey, I tried to go for the angst but honestly the more I write the more suspicious I become of my inability to write our boys being anything other than soft with reader! I'll try to work on it but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this <33

cw: mention of concussion symptoms, including nausea, nothing intense or even very descriptive though

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

You’re aware that the internet had said you were supposed to avoid bright lights, loud sounds, and movement when Remus had looked it up after an unfortunate fall that morning. Just like you’re aware that when your boyfriends left you at your apartment a few hours ago, they’d been trusting you to follow those instructions. But you’re also aware that the internet had led you all to believe your concussion was mild, and that Marlene only has one birthday a year. Damned if you were going to miss it.

So yeah, you feel a bit queasy as your eyes struggle to track the movement and voices around you, but that’s nothing compared to the contentment of being with your friends. Lily has assigned herself the role of your caretaker, checking that you’re alright every few minutes and shushing anyone who raises their voice too loud around you, and Marlene has attached herself to your side, telling you how much she appreciates you in between beer-scented hiccups.

“And you’re so nice to come tonight,” she’s saying now, brushing her fingers clumsily but sweetly through your hair. “I can’t tell you how much—uh oh.”

You have a premonition of ill fate even before the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you follow Marelene’s unfocused gaze to the curly-haired boy coming towards you.

“Happy birthday, Marls,” he says, his smile only appearing slightly strained, before he turns to you. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Jamie,” you say quietly, and Lily and Marlene leave the couch to give you as much privacy as a party allows. “What are you doing here?”

“Everyone here’s been posting, and you’re in the background of half the pictures.” His smile slips as he crouches in front of you, disappointment in his eyes. “You know you’re supposed to be resting,” he says softly. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You’re glad that he’s here instead of Remus or Sirius, who surely wouldn’t be as careful about not embarrassing you. James is less stern than the others, and though you feel a bit guilty for doing so, you press that to your advantage.

“I haven’t drank anything but water,” you say. “That’s gotta count for something, right? And look.” You brush your hair behind your ear, showing him the earplugs you’d put in before arriving. “I’m being careful, see? I’m alright, Jamie, and it’s Marlene’s birthday. Let’s just stay, both of us, okay?”

James looks nearly apologetic. “Remus and Sirius are waiting in the car.”

You groan, but allow James to pull you to your feet, waving goodbye to your friends with a pout. He supports more of your weight than you really need him to as he walks you outside, where Remus sits in the drivers’ seat of the idling car. Dread settles, along with dull resignation, in your stomach.

Sirius is in the backseat and you hope James will get in first, but he lifts you in before him, placing you between two of your three upset boyfriends. You can’t look at any of them, allowing James to buckle your seatbelt for you as an oppressive silence, worse than the bass that had brutalized your head inside Marlene’s, stretches out between you.

True to form, Sirius is the first to breach it.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“You have a concussion! All you had to do was stay home and rest. That website said that lights and loud music—say, the sort of things you’d find at a party—would only make things worse.”

Normally, you’d argue with him. No matter how hopeless it seems, no matter how obvious it is that Sirius is going to win, you can always meet him head-on and at least make your point. But tonight, with your head throbbing and something about your very being feeling fundamentally wrong, you can’t muster up the energy.

“I know,” you say.

Sirius goes silent at the acquiescence in your voice, and he looks at Remus in the rear-view mirror, unsure of how to proceed. James puts a hand on your knee, a tiny gesture of comfort even though he’s upset with you too. The motivation that had driven you to Marlene’s and through the party is wearing off, and you feel suddenly, embarrassingly teary.

“Do you feel sick?” Remus speaks for the first time, and though his voice is calm, the absence of his usual terms of endearment leave no doubt that you’re still in trouble.

You clear your throat of the tears that are trying to clog it. “A little.”

“We’re bringing you to our place to rest.” It’s not a question. “We can go get some things from your place tomorrow, but tonight you can just wear our stuff. Think you can eat something before bed?”

It’s worse that he’s being kind to you. You’d been prepared for a lecture, but being taken care of is worse. It brings the vulnerability you’ve felt since the frightening pain and dizziness of that morning to the surface, and you keep your face turned towards your lap as your eyes become wet. “Yeah, I think so,” you say, and your voice cracks slightly when you add, “I’m sorry.”

Sirius makes a sympathetic, pained sound from beside you, and James abandons all pretense of anger, tucking your head under his chin.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Remus says, a bit more gently. “For now, just try to relax.”

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chocsra · 1 month

Text

✧ STORMBRINGER CHUUYA AS YOUR GUY BSF IS ....

✧ w/c: 588 ✧ content: drabbles & headcanons of cute things with stormbringer! chuuya

☆ a shocked yet distasteful groan pulling from his throat when you show him a picture of a celebrity you find cute, grumbling about how your taste in men sucks ass. you didn't think he was jealous, just shocked at the creature he was looking at. though sometimes, you barely graze the envy on his face when you actually interact with another boy; especially if he's your type, because chuuya knows. still, he brushes your friendly smile with stupidity—because the dude you're talking with 'isn't even all that.'

☆ like having an annoyed caretaker, always keeping an eye out for you, rebuking your recklessness. just appalled that you have this much carelessness for your life on a day to day basis. but even though he'd scold you gently for anything stupid or clumsy you pull, you'd always find a gloved hand reaching out to you, providing support. either when you've stumbled, or you're about to jump off a ledge from even the smallest of heights.

☆ falling face first into the ground whilst trying to fight off one of the port mafia's powerful enemies because your shoelaces were untied. humilated, you found yourself sitting on a bench as chuuya unashamedly scolds you for your rookie mistake. knelt down as he still ties your shoes. "do you double knot your laces?" he'll ask, if you already said yes, the boy would finish one shoe with a tight squeeze, before gently patting your ankle to lace the other one, "well you better start triple knottin' em!"

☆ late night calls about the silliest things. chuuya would have his camera on in his pajamas, either mindlessly fiddling with his guitar, doing some chores, or cooking simply out of boredom. he'd rant about his day, the jewel marketing circulation, this crazy fuck named 'dazai', how much he admires his superior—kouyou, and his friends which call themselves 'the flags'. in return, you can tell him all the school gossip you've picked up on, new music you caught onto, your rants in your notes app.

☆ exchanging knowing side glances at each other when someone's being annoying or a dumb fuck. it's the kind of look two sassy girls would stare at each other with a secret disdain for the person in front of them.

☆ chuuya keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you and him only. at first, it was extra incase he lost his own hair tie, but soon, if you ever needed one, he always keeps extra on his wrist so you wouldn't have messy hair flying everywhere.

☆ taking unwanted photos of chuuya while he chases after you to delete them. sometimes, it'd be mid sneeze or the boy yawning carelessly. he definitely cares once you've did a close up shot where he looks like the epitome of a ginger leprechaun. he'd (try to) snatch your phone and now gives you the stinkiest side eye when you even try to point your phone at him.

☆ unconsciously resting an arm behind your shoulders when you're both sitting side by side. for chuuya, it provides a comforting stretch for his arms, and it feels safer knowing that he can just manuver you if there was ever an unexpected attack. for you, the fact that he just does it so casually makes you a nervous wreck.

☆ believing wholeheartedly that he's human. afterall, you wouldn't feel this much adoration for a code of strings, no? you always internally chide him if he thinks otherwise, but as friends, you thought it's better to give him a comforting pat on the back.

✧ chocsra™

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goldenempyrean · 2 months

Note

"Is it getting colder in here, or is it just me?" and “Thats it. You're going to bed.” with female sick reader and caretaker Natasha?

A Domestic Life

〚 Notes - I'm gonna try super hard to get through a load of my older requests, if you've sent one AGES ago (we're talking over months ago), it might be done soon :D ALSO! I updated my taglist so hopefully everyone who wanted to be is now on! 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Nat notices how run-down you are and takes care of you. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 720 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

“Is it getting colder in here, is it just me?” You mumbled quietly, fighting back a shiver as you pulled your sweater tighter round yourself in an effort to warm yourself back up. You’d been like this all day, going through stages of being freezing cold then boiling hot.

Natasha hummed lightly as she stirred a pot of simmering pasta, “It’s quite warm in here darling.” She carefully lowered the temperature of the stove before turning around. She raised an eyebrow, her keen eyes studying you closely. She noticed the subtle flush settled on your cheeks and the way you seemed to huddle into yourself, despite the relative warmth of the room.

You watched as Nat set down the wooden spoon that she'd been using letting it sit at the edge of the pot before turning back to you, concern etched into her soft features. "You don't look so good," She remarked after a moment, her voice gentle yet firm. You nodded, sniffling quietly as you stood up from the stool you’d been perched on and made your way over towards her, wrapping your arms around her slim waist and letting your head rest against the back of her neck – she was so warm, you just wanted to soak it all up.

You tried to offer a reassuring smile, but it faltered as another wave of chills swept through you, making you cling to her tighter, craving her warmth. "I'm okay, just feeling a little off maybe." You replied, though your voice lacked conviction, “I’ve been like this all day.” You grumbled, not holding back the trace of annoyance hiding in your voice.

Nat couldn’t say she was surprised. You’d both been so swept of your feet lately, mission after mission with almost no breaks. Hell, the closest the pair of you had come to resting lately was the night the two of you had been sent to take over a stakeout a few days ago. It was only going to be a matter of time before exhaustion caught up with one of you.

Natasha sighed, her worry deepening as she reached out to gently cup your face. "You're burning up darling," she stated, her thumb brushing against your cheek. "When was the last time you had a break or a good night's sleep? Be honest with me.”

You hesitated, realising that you couldn't even remember the last time you had taken an actual moment to rest. The constant adrenaline from the rush of missions had kept you going, but now your body was paying the price. "I... I can't remember," You admitted quietly, feeling a bit defeated and silly now that you’d realised actually how much you’d run yourself down.

Natasha's expression softened, her concern turning into a determined resolve. "Well, that settles it. You need to rest. No arguments," she declared, her voice leaving no room for negotiation.

You opened your mouth to protest, but she quickly placed a finger against your lips, silencing you. "No 'buts'," she said, giving you a stern look. "You can't take care of anyone if you're running on empty. And right now, you're beyond running on fumes sweetheart."

You sniffled softly, crossing your arms with a small, defeated pout, “What about helping with dinner though?”

Your girlfriend chuckled softly, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead. "Dinner can wait. Right now, the only thing you need to focus on is getting better. Plus, it’d be a bad idea to have you help with dinner anyway, we don’t need you passing out and falling in the pan, do we?" She smiled as you gave a small giggle, but Nat could still feel the warmth radiating from you, "Come on, that’s it, you’re going to bed."

You reached out, intertwining your fingers with hers, and pulled her closer. Looking up into her eyes, filled with worry and love, you felt a surge of affection wash over you. Leaning in, you pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, conveying your gratitude in the soft touch.

"Thank you love," You whispered, your small voice came from beside her. "For taking care of me.”

Natasha's lips curved into a tender smile as she returned the kiss, her warm touch was comforting against your skin, "Always," she murmured against your lips, "Now let’s get you into bed.”

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13@mahalkitanova@romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @citrussnz @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @blackwidow-barnes @asiangmrchk13 @lovelyy-moonlight @juiles @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69 @observeowl @beholdagaywriter @widows201 @llovergirleraa @danveration @idkeithershawty @rainedontknow @poison-blackheart @loveshineslikethesky @somber-sapphic @lexasaurs634 @ahintofchaos @scarlettssub @paisley-yy @wandanats-goodgirl @nuianced-tck-enby @maomaoincomming @anne-lister @rianlovelygirl @taliiiaasteria @swaqcenix @inluvwithfandom

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #sickfic #fluff #whump #comfort #marvel #mcu #natasha romanoff sickfic #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff imagine

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colourstreakgryffin · 3 months

Note

Hello!

Could I request some hc's for platonic Alastor and Reader where he treats Reader like a little sister?

Y E S! LET’S GOOOOOO! I LOVE ALASTOR! MY DEEREST— sorry. Sorry… I am so excited to finally have a Hazbin Hotel request. Thank you soooooo much, infinite amount of love and support to you, darling! Thank you!

Platonic! Alastor- Hopping Little Heart

“Al… can you just stop it”

You grumble out loud enough to be heard with sharp eyes glaring over your shoulder, annoyed by the constant babying and half-condescending treatment the Radio Demon himself gives you

Alastor, ever since he met you and managed to trick you into giving up your soul to him, treats you like you’re a child under his care. Like you’re an incompetent incapable little girl that he has to take care of as your older brother. It’s annoying, you’re 25 and been in Hell since 1985. Yeah, he’s 33 and been in Hell since 1933 but still. These whole behaviours of his is driving you more crazy than you already are

“Hmm… Let me think over it… I don’t think I will stop brushing your hair, my dear” Alastor hums out in a snarky yet dapper fashion, his transatlantic-accented voice echoey and menacing with the usual radio lace as he continues to brush your hair humming out a old-timey tune under his breath, long sharp fingers holding nice silky strands over his palm. You’re getting ready for a special party Princess Charlie Morningstar is arranging as a celebration for the first client, Sir Pentious, being redeemed. Here is Alastor behaving like you can’t doll yourself up on your own

Sometimes, you seriously think Alastor views you as an eight year old and he’s adopted you as to act like your surrogate older brother-caretaker. He’s overprotective, he shoves you away from arguments as to ‘protect your little ears’, he is quite favouritistic over you that it’s obvious, he gives you all kinds of cute gifts, he lets you touch him when nobody else can. As compared to how he treats Husk and Niffty, the overpowered Overlord treats you much more civil. He does act like a clingy loving boundary-stepping brother, it’s weird…

Even Charlie notices it but nobody really wants to point out, other than Vaggie, how weird it is to see Alastor baby and babytalk you in the Hotel Lobby, with no shame, like you’re five years old. Who would ever think a narcissistic, violent but yet charismatic demon like Alastor could express genuine affection to anybody else? Alastor, in a rather impressively fast pace, ties up your hair in a cute fluffy bun for this upcoming party. As if he’s tied up women’s hair many times over

How about himself? Will he attend this party? No but he’ll go to watch over you, that’s it. He isn’t going to participate in the event, he isn’t on the side of redemption. He’s here for his own amusement and he especially isn’t a fan of get-togethers, even if he behaves and dresses like he attends the most lavish rich parties all the time. He isn’t much of a party man and he just wants to make sure his surrogate little sister isn’t being creeped on

“Look at that, darling. Simple magnificent” You can’t help but roll your eyes at Alastor’s half-praise whilst putting in a nice pair of diamond earrings, himself readjusting your dress so it’s comfortably hugging your body. Hearing the Radio Demon speak in usual half-talking down, babying manner to you, he always does it. On his end, he was admiring how pretty you look when he finished fixing you up. You’re the most pretty girl in this shitty Hotel and he’d love to rub into Vaggie’s face, he is still very annoyed at the Hotel Manager insulting his relationship with you. However, this is too risky, getting into a fight with Vaggie at the party will cause his murderous itch bubble over

And he doesn’t want to be violent or monstrous around his little sister

“Thank you, Al… you know, you can go now. I can walk to the Lobby on my own, I am not five” You’re not very good at expressing your desire for space with this demon, nobody has the confidence to tell Alastor what to do or to fuck off, and Alastor himself has absolutely no grasp on personal space so even when you spell it out for him, he just ignores it. Picking you up from your chair in front of the makeup mirror with zero effort and placing you down before him

All ready, pampered and sparkly to a degree he thought you were outshining the Hotel room’s light, Alastor’s wide sharp toothy grin almost feels less of power and dominance, and more genuine and prideful over… what? Over you?

“My dear. I can’t just let such a precious princess go out there all on her own. Allow me to escort you, as a family member. It’s the least a brother can do” Your suspicions over this Overlord’s intentions towards his brotherly-like affections to you has been confirmed. He does view you as a little sister and whilst his treatment of you, though trying his best to be affectionate and caring that comes off as belittling and bothersome, he doesn’t just view you as another soul to be exploited as to serve him and the Hotel he’s investing in

It’s kinda flattering and you just think for a bit whilst Alastor offers out his arm for you with patient silence and his grin never dying out, blood red eyes still locked on you like a proud older brother. Maybe, you’ve been a bit too harsh to this possibly really lonely deer-featured sinner. Maybe, you can just give him a chance and let this whole surrogate older brother-younger sister bond he is trying to develop with you actually blossom

“Careful of your heels. Don’t want you slipping on the floor. Niffty just waxed them”

A/N: Lmao. Fuck, didn’t read the HCs until after I finished writing. Sorry, hope this is okay!

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andy-15-07 · 1 month

Note

A sick Paul Atredias with fem reader as caretaker 🥺

Comfort in Sickness

pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

masterlist / Dune Masterlist

The dim light of the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the room, illuminating the figure of Paul Atreides lying in bed, his face pale and drawn with illness. Y/n stood by his side, her heart heavy with worry as she watched over him.

Paul had been struck down with a severe bout of sickness, leaving him weak and bedridden. Y/n had volunteered to take care of him, wanting to repay him for all the times he had been there for her in the past.

She gently brushed a strand of hair away from Paul's forehead, feeling the heat of his fever against her fingertips. His breathing was shallow and labored, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of concern deep in her chest.

"Paul, how are you feeling?" she asked softly, her voice filled with concern.

Paul managed a weak smile, his eyes flickering open to meet hers. "I've been better," he admitted, his voice hoarse with sickness.

Y/n's heart clenched at the sight of him in such a weakened state. Paul was usually so strong and confident, it was hard to see him like this.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked, her voice gentle and reassuring.

Paul shook his head slightly, a small frown creasing his brow. "Just having you here is enough, Y/n. Your presence alone is comforting to me."

Y/n felt her cheeks flush at his words, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. She had always cared deeply for Paul, but she had never realized just how much he meant to her until now.

"I'm not going anywhere, Paul," she promised, squeezing his hand gently. "I'll stay with you until you're feeling better, no matter what."

Paul's eyes softened at her words, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, Y/n. You don't know how much that means to me."

As the night wore on, Y/n stayed by Paul's side, doing everything she could to make him comfortable. She brought him cool cloths for his forehead, made him hot tea to soothe his throat, and read to him from his favorite books to help take his mind off his illness.

Despite his weakened state, Paul seemed to grow stronger with each passing hour, his fever slowly receding until he was finally able to drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Y/n watched over him as he slept, a sense of peace washing over her as she realized just how much she cared for him. In that moment, she knew that she would do anything to keep him safe and happy, no matter what.

And as the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains, Y/n settled down beside Paul, her heart full of love and gratitude for the man lying beside her.

Together, they would face whatever challenges life threw their way, knowing that as long as they had each other, they could overcome anything.

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ashersanity · 5 months

Text

- @princesstokyomoon, @bobsquatley :)

Sometimes your caretaker can’t help themselves around you.

YANDERE! BAILEY

asher, we’ve been over this.

content warning! very non-con, mentions of violence, murder, somnophilia, voyeurism spanking, gunplay, choking, bailey is a warning on its own, expect the worst.

pc and bailey are gender neutral as always unless explicitly stated otherwise

“Your body was always mine. Just like your first time.”

yandere type : sadistic, possessive, controlling, overprotective

Yan!Bailey who needs you by their side at all times. Doesn’t matter why, the shitty caretaker is somehow coming up with some sort of sick excuse to have you in their office. Starts off with simple things, gruff voice demanding you to come in here already, needing you to dust the floor, it’s dirty, they claim. No speck of dust in sight, but who are you to deny Bailey? You know what happens when you do. Escalates to having you now on their lap, comfortably seated on their thighs. It’s an order of theirs, they say. Right. Of course it is. if they have a cock, then they’re slipping their length into your hole, cock warming them for the entire day.

Yan!Bailey who gets that weird sinking feeling in the pit of their stomach at the sight of you chatting away, lips curling up into that damn smile of yours, softly laughing along to Robin’s jokes. Y’know like some weird school boy/girl who immediately gets jealous, seeing their crush talking to someone else. Familiar steps drawing closer until they’re looming right over you and the poor orphan, dark look on their face, assigning you both different chores to have you two separated for the day. Brushes it off after like it was nothing, doesn’t know why they got so heated up about it either.

Yan!Bailey who can’t possibly help themselves around you, wooden floor creaking under the weight of their heavy footsteps, slipping into your room at night without that pesky orphan being by your side for once. Well, not like it’s going to stop them from doing what they have to do. Disheveled, unkempt, dark hair that’s usually slicked back, breath reeking of booze as they draw closer to your sleeping form, tall frame towering over yours. Look at you. Blissfully ignorant, unaware of what they’re doing right now, how their tongue slicked with sweat and vodka trails over your pristine, perfect lips, untouched by any of the filthy bastards in this town. You don’t even get to know that your first kiss didn’t go to sweet, old Robin.. Bailey’s own lips pressing against yours instead, tongue slipping past between your teeth.

Yan!Bailey who has several cameras installed in your room, lens catching each and every movements that you make, including the much more.. private ones. Needing to know what you’re up to, what you’re doing, who you bring into your room, entangled bodies softly landing against the cushioned mattress. Forbids you from sneaking anyone into the orphanage after that, claiming it’s for whatever bullshit reason they gave you. Stores in the tape right onto their computer, dim light of the screen reflected in their eyes, fixated on the way you blush and pant, hands slowly circling around your sex. Always comes in handy after a long, stressful day, needing to let off some steam, a low groan reverberating in the office.

Yan!Bailey whose punishments only grow increasingly worse and worse by the day, catching you slacking off during your chores or entering their office a few too many times results in you bent over their lap, begging for mercy. Palm raised, unrelenting in their blows, smacking your bum till it turns red, as red at the blush on your face, squeaking voice and hiccuped sobs echoing through the desolate room. The caretaker who doesn’t stop just as that, needing you to fully regret your actions and repent for them. Finger slipping inside your hole, alternating between thrusting their digit in all the while spanking you. Thrust in, thrust out, spank. Thrust in, thrust out, spank. Makes you messily cum all over yourself like the whore that you are, dangling legs trembling over their lap. Ignore the wet patch that formed on their trouser/skirt once you leave, giving Bailey a last fleeting look over your shoulder.

Yan!Bailey who doesn’t hesitate to put a bullet through the eyes of any motherfucker who even dares to lay their dirty hands on you. Who do they think they are? Messing with their own property? The one in charge of this whole town? In their own presence? Don’t question what happened to that one thug that got a little too bold with you, shamelessly groping at your behind as you walked on, blindfolded and gagged, uselessly drooling away. Thought that would slip past the caretaker’s eyes? Idiot, nothing does. Never with Bailey. And they’re also making it your own problem too, grasping at the back of your head, forcing you down onto your knees once more. Time to apologize in the way you know best, whore.

Yan!Bailey who’s a bit too much into this whole gunplay thing. Cold steel of their gun pressed against your temple, finger hovering over the trigger, barrel loaded in. Servicing them on your knees like the slut that you are, knowing they can blow your brains out at any moment. Fat, wet tears rolling down your cheeks, struggling to swallow them all. Hissing lowly under their breath, taking in the image of your tear-stained face, flushed cheeks and parted lips. So goddamn pretty. Raping you with their shotgun right up your ass, taking in delight in the sounds of your choked up sobs as they slide the length in and out of your poor, abused hole. Presses an uncharacteristically soft and gentle kiss to your forehead to soothe your nerves. How cute.

Yan!Bailey who doesn’t feel a shred of guilt or remorse at having you locked up in the orphanage, forever theirs to stay. Didn’t want to pay up your debt? Fine by them. Now you’re paying the caretaker in a different way, gloved hands firmly gripped around your throat and applying pressure, tugging at the wrists tied behind your back, chest pressed up against the hard surface of their desk. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Makes sure Robin is there to see by pure “chance”, by accident, walking in on you in this vulnerable state, legs limps from the other’s treatment, utterly helpless. That’s good. Show that orphan who you really belong to now, huh?

Yan!Bailey who’ll track you down no matter where you go, wherever you run off to, to the ends of the earth, dammit. Thought you could get away from them? From Bailey themselves? The one that practically raised you? Fucking arrogant brat, they’re here to put you back into your place once they find you. Taking advantage of the power, ressources and numerous connections that they have in this town, it’s only a matter of time before they find you. Once they do, it’s over. Utterly. Fucking. Over. You’re here to stay with them, chained up to their side, collar tightly locked around your bruised up neck, lettering of their own name visible over your skin. Bailey fucking owns you. And they’ll make sure you have that simple notion ingrained into your stupid little brain. Make ya learn because that’s what you’re good at. Right, brat?

[END OF POST]

Masterlist

#the fact that this isn’t all that different from their canon selves says a lot..#fucking tsundere #I know you care for pc in your own way #a very weird way at that #dol #degrees of lewdity #bailey the caretaker #so this is the first thing I post about them huh..#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #character x reader #asher writes #badly at that

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