Dysfunctional DILF Lover

Jason Voorhees

➛ Jason isn’t used to tears. Screaming, begging, yes. Crying like this? From pure sadness? No.

➛ The first time he sees you cry, it’s by accident. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders shaking, face buried in your hands like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. 

➛ Jason freezes in the doorway as his chest tightens in a way he doesn’t understand.

➛ You aren’t frantic and you aren’t having a guttural scream coming out of you, you’re just… crying.

➛ Jason doesn’t know what to say, words aren’t his thing since he doesn’t talk, but he does moves.

➛ Slowly and carefully, in a way he only had with his mom, and now with you. He kneels in front of you, tilting his head like he’s trying to read you.

➛ When you flinch, surprised to see him there, the sound of his step muffled by your sobs, he immediately stills, afraid he’s done something wrong.

➛ Then he does the only thing he knows won’t hurt you for sure; he wraps his arms around you. Big, solid, grounding. One hand presses against your back, firm but gentle, like he’s anchoring you to the world.

➛ He lets you cry into his shoulder, mask resting against your hair.

➛ Inside, he’s furious. Not at you of course, never at you. He couldn’t even if he tried! He’s mad at whatever made you feel like this, and if it’s someone, whoever caused this is already dead in his mind. (and might be in real life too!)

➛ Jason stays like that for as long as it takes. He doesn’t rush you and doesn't pull away. 

➛ When your crying slows, he presses his forehead to yours as he rocks you gently, mimicking how his mother used to comfort him in the hopes it helps you like it did him.

➛ You will never cry alone again.

Brahms Heelshire

➛ Brahms panics.

➛ The moment he hears the soft, broken sound of you crying, his heart drops straight to his stomach. He appears in the doorway like a ghost, eyes wide, hands twitching nervously.

➛ “Why are you crying?” he asks, voice tight, almost afraid of the answer. “Did I—did I do something?”

➛ When you shake your head no but don’t stop crying, Brahms is already crossing the room with quick stride towards you. 

➛ He kneels in front of you, hands hovering in hesitation before finally settling on your wrists like he’s asking permission without words.

➛ He hates this. Not because you’re crying, but because he can’t fix it immediately and doesn’t know how to even fix it.

➛ Brahms pulls you into his chest nervously, rocking you gently, murmuring reassurances in a low, repetitive voice. 

➛ “It’s alrigh,  I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He presses kisses into your hair, your temple, anywhere he can reach.

➛ Seeing you cry makes him feel helpless and terrified. What if you leave because of this? What if he’s not enough?

➛ He clings to you just as much as you cling to him, holding on like if he lets go for even a second, you’ll disappear.

Thomas Hewitt

➛ Thomas doesn’t understand tears, but he understands pain.

➛ When he finds you crying, his first reaction is confusion while he just stands there, head tilted, breathing heavy as he searches your body for any injuries.

➛ You look hurt, but not physically, and that scares him more than blood on you ever could.

➛ He approaches slowly, boots heavy on the floor. When you don’t look up, he lets out a distressed sound from his throat, hands clenching at his sides.

➛ Thomas crouches in front of you, big hands awkward as he gently touches your knee to make you look at him. 

➛ When you don’t pull away after a quick glance at him, he gathers you into his arms, cradling you against his chest like you’re made out of porcelain.

➛ He hums, low and shaky, a sound meant to soothe, learned from watching animals calm their young.

➛ Seeing you cry makes his chest ache uncomfortably. It makes him angry at the world, at himself for letting you hurt to the point of crying and at anything that dared hurt you. 

➛ He presses his masked face into your hair, holding you impossibly tighter, like he can physically keep the sadness from touching you again.

➛ You are his. And he will protect you from everything, including your own pain.

Bo Sinclair

➛ Bo tries to joke it away at first because, well, he’s Bo.

➛ “What’s wrong with ya?” he asks, voice light and teasing. 

➛ But then he sees your face as you look up at him. Red eyes, trembling lips and a lot of tears slipping down your cheeks, no matter how hard you try to stop them with short intakes of air.

➛ And suddenly, the smile dies.

➛ Bo goes quiet, staring at you like he’s been punched in the gut. He hates crying because he hates weakness, and for him, the two go hand in hand. But seeing you cry? It wrecks him.

➛ “Hey, hey, darlin’!” he whispers in surprise, stepping closer to you. 

➛ His hands hover, not knowing where to hold you, before finally cupping your face, thumbs wiping away tears like he’s frustrated with them. 

➛ “Don’t do that. Don’t cry.”

➛ He tries to sound as confident as he usually is yet, his voice cracks, just a little, enough to show how affected he really is by your crying.

➛ He pulls you into his chest, arms tight and protective around your shaking form. His jaw clenches as you sob against him, anger burning beneath the surface. Someone (because he can’t think that it’s something) made you feel like this and Bo will never let that go.

➛ He doesn’t say much after that. Just holds you, muttering curses under his breath as he keeps rocking you slightly.

➛ You crying makes something ugly and possessive bloom in his chest.

➛ He hates that he can’t fix it instantly and, let’s be honest, he’s really uncomfortable by someone he loves crying, but he’ll burn the world down if that’s what it takes to keep you smiling again.

Vincent Sinclair

➛ Vincent notices you will cry before you even do.

➛ He sees the way your hands shake, how your breathing stutters and your eyes starting to slightly shine as you blink more and more.

➛ When the first tear falls, his heart shatters.

➛ He whines quietly, standing up so fast his chair scrapes the floor. He approaches you carefully, like he’s afraid he might scare you away. 

➛ “Sweetheart, what happened?” He signs to you after gently making you look up at him by holding your chin with his fingers.

➛ When you start crying harder at the question, Vincent’s eye fill too, but he blinks it back. This isn’t about him. No matter how badly the sight of you crying makes him want to cry too, he has to control it, he tells himself.

➛ He pulls you into his arms, holding you gently, one hand cradling the back of your head. He murmurs soft hums.

➛ “It’s okay to cry.” he signs slowly, to make sure you can see every words through your tears. “I’ve got you.”

➛ Seeing you cry makes him feel deeply protective.

➛ It hurts, seeing you like this, but not in a way that scares him. It makes him want to shield you from every harsh thing in the world, to create something beautiful and safe just for you.

➛ He gently squeezes you, hoping some of your sadness will transfer into him so you’ll feel it less.

➛ He stays with you long after the tears stop, wiping your face with his sleeve, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Lester Sinclair

➛ Lester freaks out as he sees you.

➛ “Oh! Oh no!” he blurts out when he sees you crying. “Hey, hey, hey! What’s wrong? Did I mess up? I didn’t mean to, I swear—”

➛ He crouches in front of you immediately, hands fluttering as he rests them on your shoulders without an ounce of hesitation. His voice drops, softer now. 

➛ “Please don’t cry…” he begs, slapping himself for telling you something like that.

➛ Of course you can cry, it’s just he wishes you would never feel the need to cry out of sadness!

➛ He pulls you into a clumsy hug, rocking you gently, rubbing your back in big circles.

➛ He talks nonstop, trying to distract you, comfort you, anything to make it better.

➛ “You’re okay. I got you. You’re safe. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you, alright? Not even yourself.”

➛ Seeing you cry makes him anxious and sad, like he’s failed you somehow.

➛ He takes it very personally, even if it has nothing to do with him.

➛ He stays close for the rest of the day, checking on you constantly, making sure you’re smiling again as he jokes about everything he can once you start to get a little better.

Amanda Young

➛ Amanda understands crying and sadness more than anyone.

➛ When she sees you break down, she doesn’t panic and she doesn’t push.

➛ She simply sits beside you, close but not crowding, her presence grounding.

➛ “Yeah, I get it  darling.” she sighs softly.

➛ She lets you cry, lets you fall apart as much as you need to. 

➛ When you lean into her, she wraps her arms around you tightly in a second, chin resting on the top of your head while she draws small circles on your back.

➛ She doesn’t tell you it’ll be okay right away, she tells you it’s allowed.

➛ “Let it out.” she whispers. “You don’t have to hide it from me.”

➛ Seeing you cry makes her feel strangely good, not because you’re sad, but because you feel comfortable enough to be this vulnerable with her. 

➛ She knows what pain looks and feels like, and she knows how dangerous it is when people are left alone with it.

➛ And if it’s someone who made you cry? They’re on her list now. (except if it’s yourself, of course.)

➛ Once you've stopped, you apologize for crying and Amanda’s jaw tightens. She cups your face firmly, forcing you to look at her.

➛ “Don’t ever say sorry for that.” she warns you.

➛ She stays close the rest of the night, arm hooked around your waist, thumb tracing slow patterns against your skin.

➛ Anyone who hears about this later only knows one thing; you’re off limits.

Candyman

➛ Candyman hears you before he sees you. Your tears echo softly, and when he appears, it’s slow, with hesitation. 

➛ He doesn’t rush you. He kneels in front of you, golden eyes full of something ancient and gentle.

➛ “Why do you weep, beloved?” he asks, voice smooth and deep.

➛ When you just cry harder, unable to give him an answer, he reaches out, large hand lifting your chin so you don’t have to hide your face. 

➛ His thumb brushes away your tears with surprising tenderness while you mumble an apology.

➛ “Your tears are sacred, do not apologizes for them.”

➛ He pulls you into his embrace, warm and enveloping, voice murmuring praises and reassurances. 

➛ Seeing you cry stirs something protective and possessive in him, an ancient promise to guard what is precious.

➛ After your tears dry, Candyman doesn’t disappear, he stays right where he is, just moving slightly away from you to let you breath.

➛ He remains, looming but patient, presence warm and heavy like honey in the air. He lifts your hand, presses a kiss to your knuckles—slow, reverent.

➛ “Even like this, you still are the most beautiful." he says softly.

➛ When you lean into him, he coils around you slightly, possessive but protective.

➛ Your pain will not be ignored, it will be answered.

➛ When it’s time for him to leave, he looks back before leaving and softly calls out to you, to make sure you’re watching, then taps two fingers against his chest where his heart is.

Harry Warden

➛ Harry doesn’t hear or sees your crying at first, he feels it.

➛ There’s a shift in the mines, something off, something wrong, and when he turns around the corner to your makeshift bed and sees you sitting there, hunched in on yourself, tears slipping down your face in silence, his entire body stills.

➛ Harry isn’t good with emotions,isn’t good with words either, so he doesn’t even try to speak to comfort you.

➛ Instead, he approaches slowly, boots heavy against the floor, pickaxe left behind because the moment he realizes you’re crying, he knows nothing sharp belongs near you right now.

➛ He stops in front of you, towering, breathing slowly. You look so small and fragile like this, hurt in a way he can’t kill or break or scare away.

➛ Harry crouches down in front of you. One gloved hand lifts hesitantly, hovering for a second before he gently taps your knee, asking, not demanding like he usually does. When you don’t pull away, his shoulders relax just a little.

➛ He pulls you into his chest. It’s firm, solid and safe. His arms wrap around you fully the moment your head touches his chest, blocking out the world, helmet resting lightly against the top of your head. 

➛ One of his hands presses between your shoulder blades, steady pressure meant to ground you, the other resting at your lower back firmly.

➛ Harry stays silent the entire time but his presence speaks.

➛ The way he holds you like you might shatter, the way his breathing slows to match yours, the way he doesn’t let go even when your crying fades into soft hiccups…

➛ Inside, there’s a cold, furious clarity. Someone may have caused this. How, he doesn’t know, but it’s still a possibility and Harry doesn’t need words to promise that it will never happen again.

➛ He stays with you until you’re calm, until your body stops shaking completely, until your cheeks are dry and until you tell him you feel better.

➛ And when you finally pull back, he rests his helmet against your forehead for just a moment, with a quiet, intimate and unspoken reassurance.