hi sorry Ive been dead for a few days I have been doing my actual job smh anyways I am back to say
god I want to destroy this man
I want to make him choke on my cock and fuck him until he needs more than a cane to stand with
I want to face fuck this man and bend him over his lab table or desk so any time he goes to work with Jayce heâs reminded of me splitting him open and filling him up with so much cum he doesnât have to eat for the next day
I want to have him ride me while Iâm sitting in his chair with the door unlocked so he fears that someone will walk in
I would invite Jayce to watch me fuck him so hard he cries
but I also want to hold him against my chest and convince him to take a break from work
I want to cuddle him in bed and make him breakfast in the morning and pack him lunch for the office
I want him to lay with his head in my lap and tell me about his day and the experiments heâs conducted
I want to take little baths with him and make dinner so he knows to take breaks
I want to sneak up on him while heâs working late in his office so I can kiss his neck and convince him to take a rest on the sofa in his lab
I want to pick him up and take him home every night, shower with him, make him some food, and cuddle with him until he falls asleep in my arms
I want to lay with him and tell him how gorgeous he is and how much I love him
I want to kiss all over the âimperfectionsâ on his face and tell him how much I like them
I want to fall asleep looking at the stars with him and have him tell me about his childhood
I want him to be comfortable enough to open up to me about his illness and his past traumas so I can help him get through and process them
I want to show this man that he is capable of love and capable of being loved
I want to show him how to take care of himself so he doesnât need to put his whole being into his work
I want to teach him to have hobbies
That is all I am in love with him
god heâs so PRETTY
sososo sorry for rambling bc I am high and it is like 2 am but i love men
hay i was wondering could you do some cuddling hc with musical juice?
Oooh I sure can!
First off, Beetlejuice is clingy. We all see how touch-starved he is in the musical, so this would definitely translate when heâs in bed with a partner.
The first time he slept over, he practically jumped at the chance to cuddle up next to you.
Like, literally jumped into your bed, the springs bouncing under his weight as he eyed you up and down.
âBeej,â you said, âRemember what we talked about?â
He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms like a petulant child.
âYes,â he muttered, a small smirk spreading across his face, âJust hand stuffâŚâ
You giggled, shaking your head in disbelief.
âBeejâ
âFine! Fine,â he conceded, patting the empty space next to him, âI guess I can control myself for tonight. But you arenât making it easy, ya know.â
He loves to wrap his arms around whoever heâs with (maybe even growing a few extra if he feels particularly handsy) and pulls you as close as physically possible.
Heâll play with your hair, soothing you as you fall asleep in his arms.
But donât get it twisted, homie LOVES being the little spoon too and will make you switch positions at some point in the night.
You will also find yourself playing with his hair, as it gradually shifts from its normal vibrant green to a soft pink color.
Even though he doesnât need to sleep, Beetlejuice relishes in the closeness to you while you slumber and will find himself drifting off into a pseudo-nap.
Morning cuddling is his favorite, because thatâs when youâre the most peaceful.
Beetlejuice would never admit it to you, be he relishes in the stillness that comes with the first few hours of the day.
Itâs also when youâre the warmest, and since Beetlejuice ran cold, he loved feeling your body heat mixing with the early morning sunlight filtering through your room.
Listening to your steady breathing calmed him â so much so that he felt his chest rising and falling in tandem with you from time to time, despite not needing to breathe for close to a millennia.
He loves to bury his face into the nape of your neck, the stubble on his cheeks tickling you awake.
Even after youâre up and nearly ready to start your day, heâll pull you in closer, nuzzling you until you finally gave in to spending a few more minutes in bed with him.
đ
thanks for the headcanon request! this was really fun to work on :)
Adam x Jessica rabbit like! Reader(you're taller than Adam.)
Female reader! Cursing, adam is ooc??
(English isn't my very first language so I may have grammar issues.)
"Hey babe?" Adam enters the room with a big pout on his face, you turn around to look at him as he melts in your stare.
"Adam." You walked towards him and you bent over to give him a kiss on the forehead, as he smiled sheepishly "hehe, so any plans for today?" Adam looks up at you and wraps his arms around your waist
You sighed heavily, "I don't think so.." you looked down at him, he looked up to you, "How did I get a tallass hottie like you?" You blinked and smiled a little, and gave Adam a kiss on the lips, muttering a small "Hm."
"oh honey did I tell you that I'm gonna have a meeting or an...hang out with Emily?"
"nope."
You sat down, and applied your red lipstick, as Adam looked at you admiring how you look, head to toe. "I'm gonna leave in a few minutes honey..what do you wanna do?" Adam gulped and walked towards you "I'm not the type of person to..be such a submissive little bitch, but can you give a kiss? Like alot. Put em lipstick lip prints ya know." Adam looked down on embarrassment, as he gasp softly when he felt your soft hands on both of his cheek, lifting it up.
"I'd be glad to give you honey." Your voice is smooth like silk. He relaxed in your touch as he grinned widely, "you're so fucking hot babe." You chuckled and started to kiss his cheek, leaving a lipstick print. You kissed his entire face, slowly moving to his neck, Adam exhaled sharply and gripped your waist, standing between both of your legs, Adam whimpered softly "f-fuck...The shit you do to me." You chuckled.
After the session with Adam, you were now with Emily, you think she's a big sweetheart!
"how can you love Adam miss? He's so badly mouthed and so mean! And you're so kind and generous, not to be mean or anything.."
You chuckled, and tucked your hair behind your ears, as Emily began to speak again
" seriously what do you see in him?"
"he makes me laugh." You put the tea cup down and crossed your legs, as you look back at Emily with a smile.
Hey guys real talk are there any active Beetlejuice discord servers out there? Anybody wanna share a link if one exists? Iâd love to meet some more bj pals
Inspiration: My own silly idea but also Prompts #70 (âare you actually trying to seduce me right now?â) and #86 (âthey donât need to know.â) from Prompt List 2
Warnings: Cursing, mutual pining, Adam is still kind of an asshole (duh), suggestive dialogue
Word Count: 1,363
Authorâs Note: I just really wanted the mental picture of Adam in some rocker eyeliner, so I wrote it. Thatâs about it, just being very normal about this character :3 If anyone has seen any fanart of Adam with eyeliner, my DMs are always open. As always check out my Masterlist, About Me page, or Prompt Lists if youâd like to submit an ask! Happy reading! :)
âWhatâs that?â
You scoffed at the fallen angel lounging lazily on your bed, watching you intently as you went through your makeup routine.
You had just grabbed an eyeliner pencil, and were in the middle of smudging the smokey kohl onto your eyelids when Adam interrupted you.
âWhat, you didnât have eyeliner in heaven?â you smirked, looking at him through the mirror on your vanity. Even in such a relaxed state, he still kept that stupid mask on.
He shook his head, âWhy would we need makeup in a place where everyoneâs fuckinâ perfect and poised 24/7?â
Shrugging your shoulders, you accepted the answer. Made sense, anyways. From what you heard from Charlie, Heaven probably looked like a dream come true. Why would anyone need to alter their appearance in a place like that?
Turning back to the task at hand, you jumped slightly when Adam appeared behind you, his face incredibly close to your own. He was studying you intently, his digital eyes flickering over your expression.
âUgh, what is with you, dude?â
His eyes narrowed, lips forming into a tight line. If you didnât know any better, youâd say he wasâŚthinking. Which is not an activity Adam seemed to engage in, especially before speaking.
âIt looksâŚgood.â he muttered, feeling his face getting warm under his mask, âI guess I never really noticed it before.â You quirked an eyebrow, a small smile flashing across your face.
Ever since he turned up on the hotelâs doorstep practically begging for help from the Princess of Hell, Adam had decided to latch himself on to you. For what reason, you didnât know; it didnât particularly matter since any attempts to rid yourself of him were completely fruitless.
He was definitely an asshole, but he could be mildly amusing from time to time.
âDo youâŚdo you want me to put some on you?â
He blinked stupidly. âIâm not gay, toots,â he deadpanned, âDespite what that little spider twink downstairs thinksââ
âNo, no thatâs not what I meant,â you cut in, trying to stifle your laughter at his remark, âBut makeup transcends sexuality.â He scoffed, letting his insecurity wash over him.
Adam would never admit it you or Charlie or anyone else at the hotel, but being here made him feel less alone than he ever felt in Heaven.
Up there, he was practically ignored, even treated as a nuisance by the seraphim and other higher ups. Which he was, but that was beside the point.
He was already ashamed of himself for asking Luciferâs brat of all people for help, but he had nowhere else to turn and felt completely alone. Except when he was with you.
Although you were a sinner too, you didnât judge him as harshly as the others. Hell, you were able to stand up to him, even reason with him when he was particularly crabby.
It scared him, though heâd never let you know that. Heâd rather get stabbed through the chest again than be vulnerable.
Standing up, you gestured to the edge of the bed, encouraging Adam to sit down again. He hesitated for a moment, not willing to trust you fully.
âYou know,â you drawled, âsome of the greatest rockers on Earth wear eyeliner. And looks sexy as fuck doing it.â
Adamâs eyebrows shot up in curiosity.
âAnd,â you added, âA lot of ladies are actually into it. I swear.â He blew a raspberry in dismissal, still not fully convinced. He decided to humor you anyway; he had nothing better to do.
âUgh, fine,â he whined, âYouâre lucky Iâm bored, sugartits.â He plopped onto your bed, faltering slightly when removing his mask; you rarely saw him without it, and were struck by how, well, human he looked.
You couldnât dwell on his appearance for long; you needed entertainment for the evening and didnât want to wait for him to change his mind. With the pencil in hand, you swiftly went to work on his minor makeover.
You were close. Dangerously close, Adam thought to himself. So close that he was almost pissed that his eyes were closed so he couldnât get a good look down your shirt.
He could feel your soft breath on his face, the almost imperceptible noises you were making while concentrating intently on shaping his new look. He almost flinched when your hand gripped the side of his face gently, tilting it up slightly to give you a better angle to complete your work.
Your fingers tingled on his skin, silence filling the space in a way that was new to Adam; he usually reveled in sucking the air out of any room he was in, but he was now focused so keenly on the steadiness of your breathing and the looming presence of your body so, so close to his.
Fuck.
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and for the first time in his very long existence, Adam actually tried to hide his arousal from you. âAlmost done,â you muttered, examining the canvas of his eyelids closely.
You couldnât help but notice that even though he was fallen, Adam still retained ratherâŚangelic features. Perfect skin, tousled brown hair, annoyingly long eyelashes. You tried to not gaze at him for too long, but with his eyes currently closed, you couldnât help but stare.
âAh, okay, open up,â you said, feeling a quiver arise in your throat. He blinked, bright gold eyes accentuated perfectly by the dark liner.
Satan help you. He looked hot.
You realized you were still leaning incredibly close to his face, and before you could stumble backwards, Adam flashed a mischievous smile. âDamn babe, I must look pretty good if youâre giving me âfuck meâ eyes.â
âI wasnâtââ
âShhhh,â he stood up, pressing his finger to your lips. Your attraction to him was quickly replaced with annoyance, even with him looking like a rockstar you mightâve had a crush on when you were still living.
You pushed his hand away, your stomach twisting. Leave it to Adam to ruin an actual good moment between the two of you.
âAre you actually trying to seduce me right now?â
âMaybe. Is it working?â
âNot in the slightest,â you lied. He brushed past you, considering his reflection in your vanity mirror.
âFuck, I do look good,â he mused, getting an eyeful of himself. You couldnât help but roll your eyes. His gaze flitted to you, studying your form. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. âCome on, arenât you the least bit curious about how good this dick would look in that pretty little mouth of yours?
You crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to act disgusted at that mental picture. âOnly in your dreams,â you muttered, hoping the heat traveling up your neck wasnât visible.
Adam stood up to face you again, his mouth curving into a wicked smile. âThey donât need to know,â he purred, his eyes flicking towards the door, referencing the other residents of the hotel. âIt can be our little secret.â
His fingers brushed your waist delicately, and you felt your heartbeat quicken as he squeezed the side of your body. He looked hungry, possessive, the dark pigment around his eyes only enhancing the intensity of his glare.
You gulped. You had to come up with an excuse, and quick.
âCharlieâs expecting me,â you croaked, pulling away from his grasp. You cursed yourself for the ache you felt between your legs, âSomething about more trust exercisesââ you headed toward the door, but Adam grabbed your arm.
He didnât seem annoyed that you were brushing off his advances; he knew that it was now just a matter of time.
âSure, sweetheart,â he teased, his grip red hot against your skin, âBut teach me how to do this fun little makeup on myself sometime, hm? I like seeing you all hot and bothered.â
You swung open your door, flashing him the finger as you slammed it behind you. It didnât matter that you were leaving him in your room unattended; you knew youâd be seeing him there later anyways.
Something told you he was going to keep the makeup on until you returned.
------
thanks for reading! as always, like/reblog/comment if you enjoyed :)
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
so physically affectionate, will not leave you alone (if you're okay with that!!), he's so obviously touch starved that once you're in a (tentatively named) relationship it becomes free game that he can and will be touching you at all times
cuddles are a must, will ask you any time you are alone together (and it can and sometimes does lead to more)
he also really likes giving gifts but he is terrible at it (the maitlands have told him on numerous occasions that he canât give you body parts as gifts, itâs not really sunk in yet) but heâs trying his best!! and heâs so endearing when he gives you anything!
if you gift him anything he will boast to literally everyone he haunts for like a fortnight afterwards
he loves when you initiate the affection though!! like wow this person is choosing to do this, he didn't have extort, torture, or lie for this!! please get him some therapy
B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)
post-canon, lydia ends up with a chaos demon best friend and lucky you, you're going to be dragged into all the chaos that takes place! (and potentially be damage control / the voice of reason)
the deetz-maitland household has barely known peace since the two of them became best friends, and now youâre included with that, good luck!!
both of them will listen to you (sometimes) so you'll be invited to join in with scaring the shit out of the pizza delivery guy :) it's a good couples bonding activity don't question it
you're always very willing to help if it's aimed at someone who was being creepy with lydia, that's when you have to convince the two of them that they can't murder the guy that did it (even if you agree with them)
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
as mentioned before, heâs literally obsessed, can and will take every single opportunity to cuddle you
the first time you initiate it, he will turn bright pink and vanish from the room, he canât believe someone actually wants to be near him like that
he'll get used to it quickly though!!!
will force you to sit down so he can rest his head in your lap sometimes, he absolutely loves it
he purrs if you mess with his hair!! please do it, he'll love you forever (and lydia thinks it's hilarious)
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
do not let him cook for you unsupervised!!!! he will use bleach thinking it'll enhance the flavor profile and you will end up with an early ticket to the netherworld!! please do not consume anything he made without consulting the maitlands beforehand!!!
he likes to say he's your house spouse because he stays at home most of the time <3 (you've tried pointing out that he has a job and he does nothing around the house but he always pulls you into a kiss and that always ends the conversation)
he's pretty well set up where he is right now, living between your place and the deetz-maitland house, he considers himself to be settled down right now
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
lol he would just not do that
boy has major abandonment issues and would overlook any and all red flags any parter presented (also y'know he's a demon, for him some red flags are green flags)
I think it would be intervention from someone in the Deetz-Maitland family that would actually have to initiate any kind of break up because I just don't see him doing so
F = Fiance(e)Â (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
his green card marriage to lydia does not get brought up a lot in the house (unsurprisingly) now he's been summoned and welcomed into the house, he's less set on life via marriage because hey he has a pretty good set up going on right now without being alive, why mess with a good thing and potentially ruin it yâknow
would still want to marry you eventually, but isn't going to push it too much until you start bringing it up too (doesn't wanna scare you off before he can put a ring on it y'know?)
if it leads to him being alive again then that's just a bonus
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
he does try to keep in mind that you're a living being and do not have the limits of a dead person but he forgets sometimes ):
will forget that you need to breathe when he's kissing you and wonder why you're trying to push him away
he can be gentle though!! when he remembers that you're flesh and bone
if you're in a bad mood he will proceed to dote on you in the same way that you dote on him
he's not all chaos, he can he soft when the situation arises for it (and only around people he trusts, he's got a reputation to maintain y'know?)
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
I keep talking about hugs but the ghost with the most just loves them so much đ
all the physical affection all the time please babes <3
he hugs everyone in the house quite a lot (this was less endearing when he stank of rot and death but now he showers occasionally itâs a more welcome method of affection)
an easy solution initially was to spray him with room spray so at least he stank of flowers or pine
he does all kinds of hugs but the most common type is bear hugs that squeeze all the air out of your lungs
I = I Love You (How quickly would they say it? Would they say it a lot or rarely?)
he would say it pretty quickly, whether he means it initially is sort of up for debate, many members of the household think he only said it so quickly in the hope that youâd summon him (that did not work out if that was his intention)
it's a sweet moment and he will pull you into a kiss and no one will see the two of you for a few days <3
youâll be able to tell the first time he says it and means it because his hair will turn magenta and heâll try and laugh it off
if you say it back he will lose his ability to speak for a good few minutes (itâs one of the only times heâs ever been speechless in front of you)
he will say it constantly after that!! every person that meets him will know that you're in love after that :) very proud demon <3
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when theyâre jealous?)
heâs a demon and heâs quite territorial, jealousy is a big sticking point in anyoneâs relationship with him
itâs not just with you, he gets jealous of people who get close to lydia and 'threaten' his position as best friend, he gets jealous of any work friends of charlesâ who come round to view the house, it comes from his fear of being abandoned and youâre all working on ways to healthily navigate those feelings with him
heâs not perfect, and neither is anyone else, and it does sometimes feel like heâs not making any progress, but then you remember when he almost ripped someoneâs heart out their chest because they winked at you a few months ago and how now heâd just growl loudly at them, and you realise that he is making progress with it, just slowly
he thinks it's absolutely hilarious if you got jealous over someone flirting with him though (do not let him know, you'll never hear the end of it)
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
messy af. that's it, that's how he kisses.
he will take any opportunity to dip you and kiss you in front of others, especially anyone who made the mistake of trying to make a move on you in front of the bug man
will kiss you anywhere and everywhere, he's a demon, he's not afraid to get messy
loves if you kiss his forehead or nose or somewhere more platonic, it makes him feel loved in a way that he isn't used to
cheesy kisses like on the back of your hand are a must <3
L = Little ones (How are they around children?)
do not let him around children unsupervised!!!! do not do that!!!!
he will traumatise them and then no one's happy!!!!
if he says he's going to do a puppet show, do not let him proceed, it will not be a fun puppet show and it may end with your favourite book in the fire and the child in question crying
he likes being around kids cause he can fuck with them and no one believes them, just don't leave him on his own because then it will end with a kid having nightmares for the next few years...
is the kind of person to start a conversation with âhey kid, do you want to see something gross?â before pulling a severed finger from one of his many coat pockets (you search his pockets every time and never find any loose body parts, youâre not sure where he pulls them from)
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
he is absolutely not a morning person in any sense of the word
absolutely hates being woken up before noon
good luck getting out of bed to go to work, he will wrap an arm around you and will not let go until you threaten to banish him back to the netherworld
likes to lie on you when you are asleep so enjoy the human-shaped ice block resting on you (which is great in summer when it's hot but less good in winter when it's already cold)
slow and quiet mornings are needed because he will be groggy when he wakes up
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)
depends if he's working or not!
if heâs not working then itâs horror movie night!
don't like horror films? you will by force if he has anything to do with it!! let's watch the Exorcist again babes, it won't be as scary now you've seen it 20 times!!
if he's at work he's all pouty before he has to go, like he's clingier than usual with all of you, whilst the puppy dog eyes are out in full force
he loves scaring people for a living, but he hates leaving you guys )): but you can't go with him to the netherworld so he just has to suck it up and gothe sooner he goes, the sooner he comes back right <3
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
he doesnât think heâs revealed a lot about himself for the time heâs been around you but he has, itâs just been made through jokes about his trauma (Iâm serious, get him a therapist)
it blows his mind when you casually say something he doesnât think you know like how do you know that??? you actually listen to him???
heâs been so used to being invisible that he talks aloud to himself a lot so if you actually listen, youâll probably have learned more about him then heâll have meant for you to
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)
by you and the Maitland-Deetzâs? not very easily
itâs something heâs worked on a lot since lydia summoned him back to their house, he didnât want to risk being banished back to the netherworld again
by other people, it depends on what they do
people flirting with you or someone being mean to lydia is the quickest way to get his hair flushing red and his self-control straining
he does try, but heâs a demon, thereâs only so much he can do that doesnât go against his very nature
heâs made progress though, youâre all very proud of him
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
heâs bad with dates of events, it comes with how old he is
he will try his best but he just doesnât have the head for it
he remembers a lot of what you and lydia say to him, less so for the others
youâve learned if you want him to do something itâs better to leave notes somewhere heâll see them rather than just saying it cause thereâs a better chance that heâll do it (but itâs still not guaranteed)
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)
first âI love youâs probably
it really cemented that you actually like him and wanted to be around him, it was a very emotional experience for him
he speaks about it fondly to the others (and then he goes into graphic detail about what happened afterwards and thatâs when the others have to cover their ears)
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
extremely protective of the whole family and the house, all of you know if anyone ever tried to break in, he'd probably kill them
the clones are helpful for that, he can always have a clone keeping an eye on things if he's away or otherwise occupied (plus adam and barbara can't leave so there's always someone there)
he likes to spend most of his time with either you or lydia, but sometimes he does have to go to netherworld for business and that's when he starts getting antsy
his hair'll be a mix of purple and yellow before he goes and no amount of reassurance can get it to change back to green
he tries to come home as quickly as possible, and if heâs going to be away from a while he will try and insist that you stay with the Deetz-Maitlands so youâre all together
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
he tries his best but dates are not gonna sink in for him, he'll try for special occasions but small things like the first time you kissed or something are just not gonna stick in his head
mentioned before but he does love giving gifts (of varying quality and safety)
he gave you a baby sandworm once, it destroyed one of the walls in your house and he wasn't allowed in your apartment until the wall was fixed
youâve tried to get him to get approval of any gifts from Adam and Barbara since then
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
heâs not clean. at all.
even when heâs washed (which is done rarely) he still smells like heâs just been buried
youâve taken to filling your house with scented candles and incense sticks to try and offset the smell but it doesnât cover it completely
air freshener spray downs when he first appears are pretty common for you, you go through at least a bottle a week
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
lol have you seen this man, heâs absolutely not (apart from his hair)
itâs taken time but he will shower now!! he hates it but will do it (also if you say youâll wash his hair heâll only grumble rather than full-on complain about it)
is very picky about who touches his hair, says it takes him forever to get it to look like that (you've watched him stick his fingers into a plug socket to shock himself so it'll stand up so you doubt that)
you know he can wear different clothes to his suit but it's very rare that he actually does so (when you first got him to shower he did so in the suit, it was...an experience)
he likes it if you wear his suit though đđđ
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
yes but also no? he's a demon, he was alive way before you were born and will be alive long after your natural death, so in that way he wouldn't because he's already been him
on the otherhand yes, he would feel incomplete, you're the first breather to ever make him feel more than lust, it does worry him what will happen when you die (but also y'know when you die you can be together forever!! won't that be fun!!)
he doesn't worry too much about what you dying will mean for your relationship, right now he's just keeping it at the back of his mind
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)
animals seem to really like him oddly enough
he prefers animals on the creepier side but itâs funny watching random animals just approach him when heâs outside
he says he can understand them, though none of you know if heâs serious or if heâs joking about it
you have overheard him speaking to a pigeon as though he was mid-conversation with it when he thought no one was there but the juryâs out on it
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldnât like, either in general or in a partner?)
the deetz-maitland household are very important to him, if you don't get on with them on a serious level it would be an issue for him
thereâs accommodation of any disagreements but if either party had a serious issue with the other it would make him very anxious about a future with the partner, especially if the relationship is still fairly new
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)
he sometimes starts floating when he falls asleep, so good luck if you were cuddling him!
you have woken up in the night several times to find yourself on the ceiling, no it never gets any less terrifying, yes he finds it hilarious when you frantically wake him up cause youâre terrified of falling back to the ground
can and does sleep like a dead man, heâs grumpy if heâs woken up before heâs actually done sleeping (charles once tried to get him out of bed for a house meeting on etiquette, it didnât go well and charles wonât talk about the incident)
he falls asleep in the weirdest places sometimes, lydia has a growing collection of photos of him in increasingly weird places
Finally, I'm posting it. This oneshot has been in the works for nearly a year, and I can finally say I'm very happy with it!
Big thanks to @outer-andromeda for cheering me on and helping motivate me to finish. You've been such an amazing help!
Thank you to @bioexorcizm and @maddcelestial proof reading this for me. I value your help and your kindness.
Content warnings
-soft feeding/stuffing kink
-tummy kink
-self-loathing
-body-shaming
-body dismorphia
-mention of panic attack
-soft tummy play
Due to the NSFW nature of the ending minors should not interact.
Thank you!!!
The comforting smell of cinnamon and sugar wafted from the kitchen throughout the house. The oven gave off a cozy warmth that combated the chill of the autumn afternoon. You glanced over the half-wall that split the kitchen from the living room to see your husband sprawled out across the couch, sleeping peacefully. An eclectic playlist the two of you had put together of titles from both your favorite rock bands, solo artists and singles sounded from the stereo in the living room. They werenât the kind of songs most would consider to be mellow enough to sleep to, but Dewey, being a lover of all things rock, seemed to have no issue snoozing through almost anything.
The soundtrack of his lazy Saturday was also the fuel to your momentum in the kitchen. You hummed along to Def Leppardâs âLove Bitesâ absentmindedly while carefully checking over the handwritten recipe on a yellowed index card to be sure you had done everything to the letter. Upon self-confirmation, you set the tray of doughy spirals filled with butter, cinnamon, and sugar you had labored over into the oven.Â
You had recently taken up baking as a new hobby since you tended to enjoy it when you had a reason to, or had a specific taste for something. The last several weeks youâd been trying different recipes you either always wanted to, or ones that had piqued your interest online. Dewey often helped, or gave tips, that usually involved adding a bit more sugar or butter than the recipes often called for. Still, the assistance he most enjoyed was being your taste tester. He wasnât always the best at trying to hide his disgust when you burnt something, but more often than not, when his face turned to one of pure bliss, it made you melt, driving your desire to improve and expand your repertoire even more.Â
You went over to the kitchen table to rest while the rolls baked. You watched Deweyâs stomach rise and fall through the doorway in the kitchen. Sure you had missed having him hug you from behind, pressing his soft body into your back, and resting his head on your shoulder while he watched you bake, still you had good reason for wanting to work on this particular recipe while he slept. You wanted to bake something special for all his hard work with the kids lately for their upcoming gig. Though the show was still a couple weeks away, he really only had the weekends to rest. So you closely followed his Grandmotherâs Cinnamon roll recipe, determined to get it exactly right. Besides, the sight of him so calm and sound was rewarding in itself, even if he was drooling a little.
The chime of the ovenâs alarm caught you off guard. You had been so entranced in the rhythm of Deweyâs breathing, watching his shirt riding up little by little, threatening to show just a sliver of his middle, that you jumped when you heard it go off. You quickly went over, pulled on your oven mitts, and pulled out the tray. The heavenly aroma bombarded you, then billowed out through the rest of the house. They looked amazing. . . well if you had to go by the way Dewey had often made them. Your decor wasnât very skilled yet, but when it came to Dewey, messy was the name of the game. You lifted your head to see that Dewey was still asleep.
âGood,â You thought. If anything could wake him from his slumber, apart from being startled awake, it was the scent of food. You would still be able to surprise him. You hesitated when you brought in the tray of extra glazy, cinnamon-heavy treats, he was so very serene you almost didnât want to wake him. Still you knew he preferred these particular rolls warm, so you set the tray down on the coffee table, and went over to the couch.Â
Deweyâs eyelashes fluttered as he stirred from the pleasant sensation of your lips softly peppering his cheeks with kisses. He reached up and lazily pulled you down over him, trapping you in a bear hug.
âHey there, sleepyhead.â You giggled.
Dewey grunted, eyes still closed. He managed to mumble a barely audible: âHey Babe.â
âYou awake?â You teased.
Dewey whined in response, but couldnât hide the corners of his lips turning upward.Â
âI have a surprise for you.âÂ
He opened one eye looking directly up at you. That got his attention.Â
âSurprise?â
You nodded and kissed his nose. He hugged you tighter and locked his arms, trapping you against himself. He looked up at you now with both his sleepy but playful brown eyes.
âDewey!â You squirmed in his hold, but there was no escape. There was no denying the muscle from years of hauling instruments around sitting beneath the layer of fatty cushioning that made his embrace so comfortable. He chuckled at your futile attempts to pull away. He rubbed his scruffy chin against your cheek to tease you further, knowing good and well you enjoyed the sensation of hisÂ
prickly hairs on your skin. You squealed and giggled, fighting fruitlessly.
âAh-ah! You brought this on yourself, babe! Thereâs no escape-â
He paused suddenly. The scent of the baked treats filled his nostrils. He took a deep whiff, closed his eyes, and sighed out a long hum. A dreamy grin spread across his face. When his eyes opened they were knowingly locked on you.Â
âYou didnât.â
You giggled giving your own guilty little grin, along with a scrunched, freckled nose.
"I most certainly did!"
Dewey let you go, and sat up quickly looking over the tray of familiar looking cinnamon rolls.Â
"Oh babe!" He beamed up at you, then looked back down at the tray, eyes gleaming with excitement.Â
You leaned into his shoulder. "Well are you gonna sit there and gawk, or are you gonna try one and tell me if I got it right?" You pulled the tray closer to him. He immediately grabbed one, and took a big bite. The look on his face made all your effort worth it. First, his eyes widened, then shut loosely as a moan escaped his lips.
Memories of his late grandmother came flooding back to him as the toasty spiraled bun fell apart across his tongue: the way her house smelled on the day she did her Christmas baking every year, learning how to bake the treats along with her and getting to lick the spoon, the way she spoiled him by baking his favorite treats whenever he came to visit, how she would care for him when he'd stay home sick from school and neither of his parents could be there for him, all the Elvis records she'd play for him; and the way everything she said about him completely contradicted the things his father would say about him.
He blinked a few times feeling his eyes sting.Â
"What a woman." He thought. He glanced at you with misty eyes, vision slightly clouded.
"What a woman."
He took another bite of his cinnamon roll and sat back, allowing the memories of having been so loved to wash over him.
You watched as his expressions changed from blissful to tearful. You grew worried.
"Babe? Are you alright?"
What happened? Was there a bad aftertaste? Making him cry certainly wasn't your intention.Â
Your question seemed to revive him from his thoughts.
"Mmhm!" He shoved more of the roll into his mouth, and hummed in pleasure. "God! These are good!" He managed through his full mouth. He swallowed looking back at you. He noticed the concern on your face.Â
"Are you okay?"
You burst into a small giggle at his antics.Â
"Yeah, I'm fine." You crawled into his lap and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you like them."Â
You leaned down toward the coffee table, picking up another roll, and raising it to his mouth. With a gentle tilt of your head, you offered to feed him more of the decadent treat. Dewey happily obliged, eating hungrily from your hand. He settled his arm around your waist pulling you close as possible.
This had been a more recent thing between the two of you starting only a week or so before you were married. There were a few playful forkfuls here and there. Now, several months later you would feed him snacks and, every once in a while, entire meals. When you baked something though, you almost definitely would start feeding him and he would eat whatever you put to his lips.
You continued feeding him at a gentle pace while the two of you returned to your conversation.
"So, did I get them right?"
Dewey smiled and swallowed his current mouthful.
"You nailed it, babe! They're almost exactly like she used to make them."
 You watched his eyes lower and his shoulders sink a little. He missed her. You cupped his cheek and lifted his face back up to your own. His shiny eyes met yours.
"She would be proud of you, Dewey."
His lips trembled for a moment, still his smile returned.
"Hey! No makin' me cry, okay?" He grinned. You kissed him.
You felt his lips grin against yours, and could taste the traces of his late afternoon snack on his. The two of you lingered a moment before he gently squeezed you against himself as he broke the kiss.
"Besides," He went on, picking up another cinnamon roll. "I'd rather remember her happily while eating these." He stuffed it into his mouth and moaned again.
You cooed at his sentimentality. Dewey had a tendency towards hiding any emotional vulnerability, or at least he used to. He had his telltale signs, such as staring off, pressing his lips together and looking downward, or turning away altogether if he felt he might cry. All things that did persist, but less and less around you. So, you let his ever so slight change of tone slide.
He sat back again and looked at you out of the corners of his eyes. You watched the edge of his lip curl into a smirk; a little spot of glaze in his mustache.
You returned the smirk.Â
"You want me to keep feeding you don't you?"
 He nodded and grinned lazily, and hugged you tight. He hiccupped, and put a hand to his stomach.Â
"You okay?" You leaned into him, resting your hand on his. Dewey hummed and nodded.Â
"Yeah."Â
"Alright." You chuckled, reaching down to the tray. "I just wasn't sure if you were getting full or not."
"Ha! Me? No way! You know I take my pastries very seriously."
You held another roll up to his mouth, smirking. "Ah, but not quite as seriously as your music."
Dewey grinned, biting into the roll. "You got me there, babe."
He proceeded to talk through mouthfuls about how well the kids were doing, and that he couldn't wait for the gig coming up. He was only able to eat about three more before the dull ache of warning in his stomach rose enough to actually concern him. He paused to huff out a sigh, and run his hand up and down his belly. He groaned softly. His head lolled in your direction and he gave you the most pitiful look.
"What is it baby?" You asked teasingly. You could see he was certainly bloated. His shirt had finally ridden up enough to expose a sliver of his belly. But you knew your husband. You knew how he sounded when he was actually in a lot of pain, and you also knew how he sounded when he was milking the duller pain of a full stomach in hopes of getting you to rub his tummy. Naturally with Dewey, simply asking for it wasnât enough.
He whined leaning against you and pathetically rubbing the sides of his gut.Â
"Aww, does my bear's tummy hurt?"
He nodded, whimpering up at you.Â
"Alright, darling." You patted your lap.
Dewey lay across your thighs so that his stomach was in perfect reach. He rested his head on the arm rest, wincing in exaggerated pain.Â
          âAnd the Oscar goes to Dewey Finn!â You said with a clear smirk in your voice.
          Dewey whined. âHave a heart, babe!â He winced. âOoooooh. . . too much sugar.â He slid his hands down his middle pushing his sweatpants off his lower stomach. Something caught in your throat, but you swallowed and kept your cool. You pulled up his shirt, and began giving gentle scritches over the surface of his belly. A goofy grin spread across his face, and he let out a happy whiney growl. The sound made your lips curl into a smile, and a ticklish warmth spread across your face. You flattened your hand against his stomach, adding a little pressure, and rubbing in a circular motion. Your other hand went to his head, pining for the softness of his messy hair. Your fingers ran through his soft, bouncy, tangled locks. Deweyâs grin widened even more, he closed his eyes and pressed his head into your hand.
âThereâs my happy Rockstar.â
âThree and a half more inches.â Billy groaned exasperated.Â
âWait, what?â Dewey looked incredulously down at the young stylist who was currently holding measuring tape around his middle. âWhat do you mean!?â
âI mean youâve added three and a half more inches to your waistline since I last measured you.â Billy sighed, rolling up the tape. Dewey shuddered feeling it slide uncomfortably around him.Â
âIâm going to have to let out your costume shorts again.â
âBut thatâs impossible!â Dewey countered, not really believing it truly was. Still he was extremely embarrassed, it certainly wasnât the news he wanted to hear; especially not so close to a performance. He gave a quick glance around the room, suddenly feeling nervous about any of the kids noticing. He quickly pulled down his shirt and sweater vest. The vest stopped shorter than it should have. Thatâs when the realization hit: heâd been in denial about this for weeks. His clothes had been fitting him a bit tighter lately, especially his pants. Just last week heâd broken the zipper on a pair of his jeans while trying to get them on. Heâd just shrugged it off blaming the washing machine for causing them to shrink.Â
âWith your diet?â Billy huffed. âIâm not surprised. Thereâs a reason your winter costume is bigger than your spring one. Now Iâm gonna have to let that one out, and weâve not even passed Thanksgiving yet!â
Deweyâs stomach felt even heavier. He was aware his weight tended to fluctuate between seasons though he always stayed fairly chubby. The fact that he was already bigger than he was last year bothered him greatly.Â
âWould it kill you to control yourself for once? I mean you eat like a-â
âALRIGHT, Billy!â Dewey interrupted. âJust . . . go do what you gotta do, okay?â
The sassy little preteen turned on his heel and walked off muttering more complaints to himself, leaving Dewey propped up against the desk, brushing his hair back off of his forehead.
âMr. Finn?â
Deweyâs mind jolted.Â
âOh God, of course itâs her.â He looked up to see Summer, and immediately prepared himself for more scolding.Â
âWhat is it, Summer?â He sighed.Â
âFor what itâs worth, I think you look fine.â She seemed. . . worried? It was a pleasant surprise, but it was hard for him to take anything genuinely at the moment. He raised a brow.
âYouâre not still trying to earn gold stars are you?â
âNo, I gave that up forever ago. But it happens doesnât it? Especially in new marriages. Youâre settling down with your wife. Itâs okay.â
âI guess.â Dewey hopped up onto the desk, wincing when it creaked. It always had, but with the awareness of his weight gain, it just made him feel worse. He huffed, trying to push it from his mind.
âI mean I canât blame you for being embarrassed or self conscious. The way the media constantly shoves unattainable body types in our faces is disgusting and suffocating.â
âSummer, this really isnât helping.â Dewey grumbled.Â
âI was fat before I got married.â He thought. He looked down at himself, staring at his stomach. It was filling out his sweater vest more, and looked rounder. He thought back to those little feeding sessions. Those werenât there before you two were married, not that he didnât gorge himself on occasion when he was single, but with you it was different. It made him feel warm, loved, and giddy. Maybe that was the reason he was getting so lost in eating, that, and you baked some really good stuff. He pressed his hand to his belly, gently rubbing his thumb up and down the area just below his ribs, trying to mentally accept that heâd let himself go. He heaved a sigh feeling his gut push his hand forward.
âYep, I have a problem. Damned comfort food.â Then a thought struck suddenly that horrified him: Had you noticed? Surely from all the cuddling and how much youâd rub his tummy when heâd had a bit of an ache from. . . maybe overindulging a little, you would have seen and felt him getting bigger. Was that becoming a problem for you? Why hadnât you said anything about it? Was it because you didnât want to hurt his feelings? Was he becoming less attractive to you? Were you silently hoping heâd lose weight? Would you leave him?
He began to feel light headed.Â
âMr. Finn!â Summer grabbed his collar, forcing him to look at her. He stared at her wide-eyed, panting hard.Â
âBreathe, Mr. Finn. Itâs alright, just breathe.â
Dewey caught his breath. âWhat. . .happened?â The words clumsily spilled out of him in a breathy stutter.
âYou started having a panic attack, I think.â Summer explained.Â
The music coach looked around at his students, who were all staring back at him.Â
âOh great. Pull yourself together, dumbass!â He hopped off the desk, and steadied himself; still a bit dizzy.Â
âIâm gonna go get some water. Then we can start rehearsal.â
âAre you sure youâre alright, Mr. Finn?â Tamika asked.Â
âYeah, youâve always been fat, why is it such a big deal now?â Freddie added. Summer swiftly jabbed Freddieâs ribs with her elbow. âOw!â
Dewey took a deep breath. He shut his eyes and exhaled quietly.
âALRIGHT!â He clapped his hands together. âLetâs get to work! Seriously guys, we've got a gig in two weeks! Zack, youâve got our last song?â
âRight here!â His young guitarist called out holding up a stack of papers. âI made copies during study hall, so there should be enough for everyone.â
âAlright! You came prepared! I like it!â Dewey finally grinned. âNow pass those out! Everyone, get in rock positions. We gotta learn this fast if we want to perform it for this next show!â
The students scrambled to their places, Freddie behind the drums, Katie to the guitar rack, Lawrence to the keyboard, and Zach jogged across the room handing out lyrics and sheet music. Summer handed Dewey a water bottle, determined to make sure he took care of himself after hyperventilating just moments ago. Dewey took the water bottle, thanked Summer, and took a few good swigs. He pulled on his guitar, and took a copy of the sheet music Zack handed him, looking it over. He found himself grinning with pride.
âZack, you are growing so much, dude.â
Zack grinned back, giving a nod and pulling his own guitar on. Rehearsal had begun. It took Deweyâs mind off things at first. He was his usual excitable self seeing the kids bringing the lyrics, music and vocals together. It wasnât bad at all for their first time with a new song, and though they were usually quick to learn, he constantly found himself in awe of their ability. Though perhaps it was more a side effect of his pride in them. Still one can only be hit in the gut by his guitar so many times while jumping around wildly as he always did before being reminded there was more of a gut there. The rest of the rehearsal he was aware of his vest riding up, and the extra weight at his front jiggling a bit as he bounced. He stopped. Zoning in and out between his self-consciousness and the new song, he just stood still, playing and singing softly. The session was going as well as he could have hoped, and yet, he was completely unable to enjoy it.
The door to the apartment opened and Dewey shuffled in. His head hung as he moved toward the bedroom. He couldnât even lift his face to glance up at you. He couldnât face you now. Anxiety tingled through him at the feeling of your eyes on him. He was too flustered to notice that your face bore an expression of concern. Somehow, just knowing you were watching him made him feel absolutely massive, making him more eager to get out of your sight as soon as possible.
âDewey?â He heard you call to his back, but he didnât answer. He quickened his step down the hall to the bedroom.
He tossed his messenger back to the floor, and began to undress wanting to get into looser, more comfortable clothing. He unbuttoned his pants, and sighed with relief despite feeling his stomach bouncing forward. He rubbed the area where they had been digging into his sides, wincing at the angry red marks that lined waist. He sighed. He pulled off his sweater vest and dropped it on the floor. He stepped out of his pants, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Thatâs when he caught himself in the full body mirror on the right side of the bed.
He frowned, and walked closer, pulling his shirt off his shoulders and letting it slide down to the floor behind him. He stopped in front of it, now seeing his reflection in just socks and boxers. For the first time in a while, he really paid attention to his stomach. He had always been fairly self-conscious about his weight, having been made fun of all his life for being the âfat kid.â Eventually heâd learned to brush it off, to joke along, and even embrace it. It seemed with you, heâd forgotten to look at himself with disdain altogether.
He raised his hands to the underside of his belly, and lifted his stomach a little. He grimaced. His chest and shoulders felt heavy, and an increasing flow of disappointment that made his head swim. He let out a sigh. Maybe he hadnât really gotten over his insecurities after all. He breathed in, heaving his chest outward, and pressing his stomach inward with his hands. That only looked more awkward, and it wasnât helping. He let go, exhaling quickly, this time watching his stomach bounce forward.Â
âGod, I really am massive. . ."
He looked back to the mirror, and turned to the side to see from that angle. That was even worse. He could now clearly see those three and a half inches. . . maybe more? He pinched at his middle, looking back down.
âdamn it. . .â
Familiar intrusive thoughts came pouring in; memories of being made fun of on the playground, how poorly he performed in gym, his father claiming he was too spoiled, that heâd grow up to be fat and lazy and never amount to anything, being told he didnât have the body to be a rock idol, that someone sexier would be more successful. His band members in âNo Vacancyâ telling him he shouldnât wear the open leather vests and tight pants they did because he would âscare the chicks away.â Pattyâs occasional critical comments. How heâd given up on anything other than the one night stands he did manage to score because who would want to be seen dating him. Girls wanted someone handsome.
Dewey felt his throat tighten, and his eyes sting, but he swallowed the pain; after all swallowing was what he was good at, right? He huffed in frustration blinking the welling tears out of his eyes, and tore up the blankets from your bed, throwing himself under them. He shut his eyes tightly trying to fall asleep so he didnât have to keep thinking about it. Heâd become so engrossed in his self-loathing that he didnât realize you had poked your head into the room just moments before he got into bed.Â
âDewey?â You tried.
He whined, but not the cute childish way he had before. It sounded more like a frustrated growl.
âAre you alright?â you asked.
âIâm fine.â He sighed. âIâm just tired.â
âDid rehearsal go okay?â
âYeah, it was fine.â
âDid you overdo it?â
Dewey nearly snorted sarcastically. Oh yeah. He definitely had.Â
âProbably. . .â He answered.
âAlright, then. Iâll let you rest a while. What would you like for dinner?â
âIâm not hungry.â He groaned.
âMaybe for later then?â You offered worriedly. âWe can eat a little late, I donât mind.â
âIâm not hungry.â He insisted. âIâm tired, babe. It's been a long day and I just want to be left alone.â
âAre you not feeling well?â
âIâm fine . . .â He was growing more and more irritated, feeling pressured by your presence.Â
âCan I get you anything?âÂ
âIâm fine!â He snapped. âIâm just tired! Iâm not hungry! Iâm not going to be hungry later! I want to be left alone! Now, get out!â
His regret was instantaneous. He could hear the pause that followed. It was silent, yet deafening. He knew then and there that he upset you, and it only made him hate himself even more.
âA-alright baby. I-Iâm sorry. Iâll let you be.â Your broken, shakey response shattered him. Part of him wanted to jump up, and apologize; to hug you and wipe the tears he knew you were quietly crying away. A whole new wave of disappointment came, when he couldnât bring himself to do that. He stayed lying in bed listening to your footsteps and hitched breaths recede back down the hall.
He lay in the same spot for hours, unable to sleep. His stomach growled, his head had started aching, and he was scared to get up and check on you for fear of finding out you'd left him. Even if you hadn't, the idea of disappointing you in more ways than one kept him still as stone. Being fat and mean definitely wasnât attractive. He moved his hands back down to his stomach, pinching the fat into his hands.Â
âGod, I've gotten huge. . . She definitely knows.âÂ
He closed his eyes and exhaled.
âIt's only a matter of time before she leaves me. . . I don't see how she can stay happy married to a fat slob who is only getting fatter. Dad was right. . .âÂ
 He wasnât able to mentally insult himself again long before he felt the covers move over him. He jumped, looking up to see you getting into bed. He froze in the dark feeling your body moving closer. He could hear your arms sliding their way over to him. He panicked and turned away from you.
âDewey?â You whimpered.Â
âCrap!â He didnât want to upset you again. âThink of something, you idiot.â
âIâm sorry, babe. You were right earlier, Iâm not feeling too good. I donât wanna get you sick too.â
His stomach growled, and he winced. You were definitely going to know he was lying now. Yet to his surprise, you sat at his back. You cooed softly.
âAwww, baby. Is your stomach upset?â You reached to touch him, but he curled in on himself, crossing his arms over his belly.
âYeah.â He groaned weakly.Â
âDo you need a bucket?â
âNah, Iâm . . . close enough to the bathroom, I think.â He answered, knowing there was nothing in him to throw up.
âDo you need some water or ginger ale?â Â
Dewey thought for a moment. He didnât want you getting suspicious. He didnât think either would hurt him since neither were actual medicine. Still, whether it was rational or not, he was afraid the fizzy bubbles of the ginger ale might upset his stomach even more, so he went with the safer option.
âWater please.â He whimpered.
âOf course, baby.â
Unfortunately for Dewey, water doesnât do all that much for an empty stomach.Â
Having spent the entire night awake with a constantly grumbling and aching stomach, Dewey felt so much worse the next morning. His head was throbbing, and he had no energy. He felt sensitive to everything, and quite irritable. He refused breakfast, despite the loud growling from his stomach. He was sluggish, but not in his usual way. He was quiet, he seemed anxious, and he wouldnât look at you.
 By now you knew whatever was going on with him was not nausea. You'd seen him with a stomach bug. This was different. He wasn't eating, but not for fear of throwing up. You grew even more worried after he called off rehearsal for that afternoon. It was unlike him to cancel any rehearsals so close to a gig. He was quiet and sat hunched up on the couch, occasionally whining and squirming. He usually lay lazily splayed out in all his glory. And good lord did he have glory. Something was up, you hesitated to anger him, aware of his sensitivity, but the fact that he was avoiding you made you anxious.
âDewey, baby, I know somethingâs bothering you. You know you can talk to me. Please, what is it baby?â
He jumped at the sound of your voice. He tensed up, looking more nervous. . . no terrified. âNothing! Iâm fine!â You could feel the discomfort, as if some part of him was writhing beneath your gaze, not wanting to be seen.Â
âDewey, youâre not yourself. Itâs scaring me.â
âI told you Iâm fine!â He growled. âThere is nothing to be scared of. I just want some time to myself! I donât understand why thatâs so much to ask!â
âIf there is nothing to be scared of then why are you hiding from me!?â You growled. Youâd had enough of this rude tone.
âIâm not hiding-â
âYOU WONâT EVEN LOOK AT ME!â
âCAUSE I DONâT WANT YOU TO LOOK AT ME!â
Your tearful eyes widened. He looked at you in just as much shock, clear that heâd given away more than he meant to.
âWhat? Wh-â Your voice broke. âWhy donât you want me to look at you?â
Dewey hung his head shamefully. âI-Iâve. . . â
You sat down beside him. âWhat is it, Baby?â
âIâve . . . Iâve gotten fatter.â
The flow of your tears down your cheeks stopped, halted by your utter confusion.
âHuh?â
Dewey sighed. âBilly, uh . . . measured me for my winter costume fitting. Iâve got three and a half more inches on my waistline.â
âW-wait, s-so you donât want me to look at you because you gained a little weight?â
He looked up at you, pained. âA little? Babe, this is more than a little! What if Iâm getting too big? What if I get too fat? What if it becomes too much for you?â
âDewey, if it bothered me I would tell you, out of concern for your health. This little bit of extra tummy is nothing to get all worked up about.â You cupped his cheeks rubbing your thumbs back and forth across his hair peppered skin. You gave him a gentle smile.Â
           "Baby, it happens. . . If I'm to be completely honest with you. I've gained a little since we got married too."
Dewey scoffed. "Yeah, very little if any at all, you still look perfect. Meanwhile I'm over here blowing up!"
"Dewey-"
He sat back and gestured to his middle. "Babe, look at me, I'm huge!"
"Baby-"
"It's only a matter of time before I start breaking chairs or struggle to fit through doors."
"Dewey Finn!"
He turned to you, lips trembling. "I-I don't want you to leave me." The top halves of his eyes begin reflecting just above his lower eyelids as tears start welling up. Your hands returned to his face.Â
"Baby, how shallow do you think I am?"
Dewey looked at you, unable to speak without breaking. All he could muster was a whimper.
âAnd what good would starving yourself have done? You know as well as I do how dangerous that is. Did you really think I wouldn't notice you weren't eating? How long did you think you could have actually made this last?â
âI-I. . . uh. . .âÂ
"I love you Dewey. Every part of you. I love your big brown eyes, your messy hair, your smile, your plump little lips, the scruff on your face, your voice, your laugh. I love laying my head on your chest and hearing your heartbeat. I love the way the calluses on the fingertips of your left hand feel against my skin. And you know what else?"
You put your hands on his belly. "That includes this too. I love your tummy, I think it's cute. I have a bit of a thing for it specifically. I like that it's soft, and squishy. I love laying my head on it like a pillow. Weird as it is, I sometimes like the weird noises makes.Â
I love your body, bear. It's sexy to me. I like that you're a bit chubby. It's a lot nicer to be held by someone softer than it is to be held by someone super skinny or muscular. And nothing makes me happier, or feel more safe and comfortable than when I'm held by you.Â
So no. I don't mind that you've gained weight. In fact, part of me is thrilled about it.â
You gave his lower belly a squeeze. It felt like dough in your hands. He squirmed suddenly, and let out a squeak of surprise. Your eyes met his wide ones. You eased your grasp on him, moving your hands back up to his cheeks.
âStill if you want to lose weight I'll support you in that too. I love you regardless, Dewey. So please, stop doing this to yourself."
Dewey stared at you a moment with tired, pitiful, watery eyes, his hands fidgeting. His face crumpled, he sobbed and hugged you tightly to himself, burying his face in your shoulder.Â
"I'm sorry." He whimpered.Â
"Don't be. . . I understand, baby. I've been hard on myself too. But, hey we're married now. You gaining weight just means I'm doing a good job of taking care of you. And I love taking good care of my man."
You patted his stomach playfully, getting a soft hum from him. He lifted his head to look at you. Through his puffy tear stained cheeks a blush started to form.Â
"You really mean all that?" He asked.
"I do. I love you, and your tummy too." You answered, patting the sides of his belly and rubbing them a little, ending with a playful squish at his love handles that made him giggle and blush deeper.Â
"And speaking of your tummy it has been growling like an angry bear since late last night, so I think it's time I continue 'taking care of you.'"
As if on cue, his stomach grumbled loudly making him wince a little.Â
"Mmm. . . yeah." He agreed rubbing it himself now. "I could really use some food."
He looked up at you with his big brown puppy dog eyes and whined. "Soooo hungry."
You chuckled and kissed him. âStay right here, baby. I'll make you a nice big dinner. Course you'll have to start out eating slowly. We want you to keep it down."Â
He stood to follow you, still a bit timid.
"You sure you don't need help?" He asked as you gently pushed him back over to the couch, patting his butt flirtatiously.
"Mm-mm. You're going to rest."
He looked back at you and attempted to smirk, trying to hide his obvious blush. "Okay. Alright. I'm sitting."
Dewey almost couldn't contain himself with the smells pouring in from the kitchen. The scent of his favorites made his stomach growl even more. He poked his head into the kitchen.
âNeed a taste tester, babe?"
You glanced up at him and smirked, putting a hand on your hip. "Will you get back to the couch?"
"I canât help it! I'm hungry and the smell isn't helping." he sighed with pleasure. "This is torture."
"No darling, you wouldn't be rewarded at the end of torture." You chuckled.Â
Dewey let out a dramatic defeated groan heading back to the couch grumbling.Â
Luckily for him though, it wasn't long before you were sitting in his lap feeding him. You paced him carefully, so as not to upset his stomach, but it was like a damn had broken. You fed him that first bite, and he became ravenous from then on. You gave his face and neck little kisses to encourage him.
âGod this is perfect!â He moaned barely intelligible through a full mouth. You ran the fingers of your freehand through his hair, grinning.Â
âYou said the same thing last time I made you a meatball sub.â
Dewey swallowed. âYeah, but it's even more perfect this time.â
âThat might have something to do with how hungry you are. When did you eat last?â
Dewey hummed, drumming his fingers on his stomach as he thought.Â
âBreakfast yesterday?â
âDewey!â
âI couldn't eat! I. . .I was too nervous.â
âWhat about lunch?â
âHm?â
âDon't you have lunch before music coaching?â
â. . . I slept pretty late. Breakfast kinda was lunch.â
You nodded. âYeah that sounds about right.â
âHey!âÂ
You giggled, setting the last bit of the sub in his mouth. He looked up at you skeptically as he chewed and swallowed.
âAre you sure you're okay with. . . this?â He asked anxiously. You slid your hand under his shirt rubbing side to side over his middle.Â
âI promise I am, bear.â You kissed his cheek once more. âStill hungry?â
âA bit.â
âI made a second one and some brownies for dessert. Do you think you can handle it?âÂ
Dewey gave you a cocky grin. âOh I can handle it no problem.â He punctuated the statement with a couple pats on his tummy.
Dewey let out a belch that ended in a moan. He leaned back against the couch, and sighed slowly with each exhale. His hand moved slowly up and down his belly, pausing when a hiccup escaped him. He suddenly felt another pair of hands push down his sweatpants and lift his stomach over them. He sighed with relief, and looked up at you with lazy eyes and a drunken smile.Â
 He felt warm and drowsy, heavy and silly. His half lidded eyes followed as you knelt down in front of him. You kissed the soft area just above his navel and somehow that area seemed to grow warmer. His face certainly did. You slid your hands under either side of his lower stomach and gently gripped the flesh which in turn, made him grip the couch. He groaned with pleasure. Another hiccup jostled his middle against your hands. It was an uncomfortable jerk, but you seemed to know exactly where to massage him to alleviate the tension.Â
He relaxed again, bathing in the warmth and affection.
âDo you feel good, baby?â He heard you ask from somewhere far away.Â
âMmmmmhmmmmm. . .â He managed. He patted the upper part of his belly and smiled deliriously.
âGood.â You stood and leaned down to kiss him. He lifted his head, and returned the kiss to the best of his ability until a hiccup broke it. He froze and looked at you. You giggled softly and nuzzled his nose, he couldn't help but join you, chuckling carefully.Â
You sat at his side, snuggling up to him. You resumed rubbing his belly in a circular motion. He purred.
âMmmm. My wife takes good . . . hic . . . good care of me.â He gave you a big dorky smile and wrapped an arm around you.Â
âThat's right, Rockstar.â Your head came to rest on his shoulder. âThat's right.â
As good as he felt right now, in his heavily food drunk state, nothing prepared him for the way you kissed his belly, determined to leave hickies on every inch of that soft flesh the moment his back hit the bed. He moaned loudly, whining happily. His head swam, he gripped the sheets white knuckled. He was beginning to learn just how much you loved his belly with every bruise and featherlight touch of your lips. You kneaded his middle like the dough you baked with.Â
Finally, I'm posting it. This oneshot has been in the works for nearly a year, and I can finally say I'm very happy with it!
Big thanks to @outer-andromeda for cheering me on and helping motivate me to finish. You've been such an amazing help!
Thank you to @bioexorcizm and @maddcelestial proof reading this for me. I value your help and your kindness.
Content warnings
-soft feeding/stuffing kink
-tummy kink
-self-loathing
-body-shaming
-body dismorphia
-mention of panic attack
-soft tummy play
Due to the NSFW nature of the ending minors should not interact.
Thank you!!!
The comforting smell of cinnamon and sugar wafted from the kitchen throughout the house. The oven gave off a cozy warmth that combated the chill of the autumn afternoon. You glanced over the half-wall that split the kitchen from the living room to see your husband sprawled out across the couch, sleeping peacefully. An eclectic playlist the two of you had put together of titles from both your favorite rock bands, solo artists and singles sounded from the stereo in the living room. They werenât the kind of songs most would consider to be mellow enough to sleep to, but Dewey, being a lover of all things rock, seemed to have no issue snoozing through almost anything.
The soundtrack of his lazy Saturday was also the fuel to your momentum in the kitchen. You hummed along to Def Leppardâs âLove Bitesâ absentmindedly while carefully checking over the handwritten recipe on a yellowed index card to be sure you had done everything to the letter. Upon self-confirmation, you set the tray of doughy spirals filled with butter, cinnamon, and sugar you had labored over into the oven.Â
You had recently taken up baking as a new hobby since you tended to enjoy it when you had a reason to, or had a specific taste for something. The last several weeks youâd been trying different recipes you either always wanted to, or ones that had piqued your interest online. Dewey often helped, or gave tips, that usually involved adding a bit more sugar or butter than the recipes often called for. Still, the assistance he most enjoyed was being your taste tester. He wasnât always the best at trying to hide his disgust when you burnt something, but more often than not, when his face turned to one of pure bliss, it made you melt, driving your desire to improve and expand your repertoire even more.Â
You went over to the kitchen table to rest while the rolls baked. You watched Deweyâs stomach rise and fall through the doorway in the kitchen. Sure you had missed having him hug you from behind, pressing his soft body into your back, and resting his head on your shoulder while he watched you bake, still you had good reason for wanting to work on this particular recipe while he slept. You wanted to bake something special for all his hard work with the kids lately for their upcoming gig. Though the show was still a couple weeks away, he really only had the weekends to rest. So you closely followed his Grandmotherâs Cinnamon roll recipe, determined to get it exactly right. Besides, the sight of him so calm and sound was rewarding in itself, even if he was drooling a little.
The chime of the ovenâs alarm caught you off guard. You had been so entranced in the rhythm of Deweyâs breathing, watching his shirt riding up little by little, threatening to show just a sliver of his middle, that you jumped when you heard it go off. You quickly went over, pulled on your oven mitts, and pulled out the tray. The heavenly aroma bombarded you, then billowed out through the rest of the house. They looked amazing. . . well if you had to go by the way Dewey had often made them. Your decor wasnât very skilled yet, but when it came to Dewey, messy was the name of the game. You lifted your head to see that Dewey was still asleep.
âGood,â You thought. If anything could wake him from his slumber, apart from being startled awake, it was the scent of food. You would still be able to surprise him. You hesitated when you brought in the tray of extra glazy, cinnamon-heavy treats, he was so very serene you almost didnât want to wake him. Still you knew he preferred these particular rolls warm, so you set the tray down on the coffee table, and went over to the couch.Â
Deweyâs eyelashes fluttered as he stirred from the pleasant sensation of your lips softly peppering his cheeks with kisses. He reached up and lazily pulled you down over him, trapping you in a bear hug.
âHey there, sleepyhead.â You giggled.
Dewey grunted, eyes still closed. He managed to mumble a barely audible: âHey Babe.â
âYou awake?â You teased.
Dewey whined in response, but couldnât hide the corners of his lips turning upward.Â
âI have a surprise for you.âÂ
He opened one eye looking directly up at you. That got his attention.Â
âSurprise?â
You nodded and kissed his nose. He hugged you tighter and locked his arms, trapping you against himself. He looked up at you now with both his sleepy but playful brown eyes.
âDewey!â You squirmed in his hold, but there was no escape. There was no denying the muscle from years of hauling instruments around sitting beneath the layer of fatty cushioning that made his embrace so comfortable. He chuckled at your futile attempts to pull away. He rubbed his scruffy chin against your cheek to tease you further, knowing good and well you enjoyed the sensation of hisÂ
prickly hairs on your skin. You squealed and giggled, fighting fruitlessly.
âAh-ah! You brought this on yourself, babe! Thereâs no escape-â
He paused suddenly. The scent of the baked treats filled his nostrils. He took a deep whiff, closed his eyes, and sighed out a long hum. A dreamy grin spread across his face. When his eyes opened they were knowingly locked on you.Â
âYou didnât.â
You giggled giving your own guilty little grin, along with a scrunched, freckled nose.
"I most certainly did!"
Dewey let you go, and sat up quickly looking over the tray of familiar looking cinnamon rolls.Â
"Oh babe!" He beamed up at you, then looked back down at the tray, eyes gleaming with excitement.Â
You leaned into his shoulder. "Well are you gonna sit there and gawk, or are you gonna try one and tell me if I got it right?" You pulled the tray closer to him. He immediately grabbed one, and took a big bite. The look on his face made all your effort worth it. First, his eyes widened, then shut loosely as a moan escaped his lips.
Memories of his late grandmother came flooding back to him as the toasty spiraled bun fell apart across his tongue: the way her house smelled on the day she did her Christmas baking every year, learning how to bake the treats along with her and getting to lick the spoon, the way she spoiled him by baking his favorite treats whenever he came to visit, how she would care for him when he'd stay home sick from school and neither of his parents could be there for him, all the Elvis records she'd play for him; and the way everything she said about him completely contradicted the things his father would say about him.
He blinked a few times feeling his eyes sting.Â
"What a woman." He thought. He glanced at you with misty eyes, vision slightly clouded.
"What a woman."
He took another bite of his cinnamon roll and sat back, allowing the memories of having been so loved to wash over him.
You watched as his expressions changed from blissful to tearful. You grew worried.
"Babe? Are you alright?"
What happened? Was there a bad aftertaste? Making him cry certainly wasn't your intention.Â
Your question seemed to revive him from his thoughts.
"Mmhm!" He shoved more of the roll into his mouth, and hummed in pleasure. "God! These are good!" He managed through his full mouth. He swallowed looking back at you. He noticed the concern on your face.Â
"Are you okay?"
You burst into a small giggle at his antics.Â
"Yeah, I'm fine." You crawled into his lap and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you like them."Â
You leaned down toward the coffee table, picking up another roll, and raising it to his mouth. With a gentle tilt of your head, you offered to feed him more of the decadent treat. Dewey happily obliged, eating hungrily from your hand. He settled his arm around your waist pulling you close as possible.
This had been a more recent thing between the two of you starting only a week or so before you were married. There were a few playful forkfuls here and there. Now, several months later you would feed him snacks and, every once in a while, entire meals. When you baked something though, you almost definitely would start feeding him and he would eat whatever you put to his lips.
You continued feeding him at a gentle pace while the two of you returned to your conversation.
"So, did I get them right?"
Dewey smiled and swallowed his current mouthful.
"You nailed it, babe! They're almost exactly like she used to make them."
 You watched his eyes lower and his shoulders sink a little. He missed her. You cupped his cheek and lifted his face back up to your own. His shiny eyes met yours.
"She would be proud of you, Dewey."
His lips trembled for a moment, still his smile returned.
"Hey! No makin' me cry, okay?" He grinned. You kissed him.
You felt his lips grin against yours, and could taste the traces of his late afternoon snack on his. The two of you lingered a moment before he gently squeezed you against himself as he broke the kiss.
"Besides," He went on, picking up another cinnamon roll. "I'd rather remember her happily while eating these." He stuffed it into his mouth and moaned again.
You cooed at his sentimentality. Dewey had a tendency towards hiding any emotional vulnerability, or at least he used to. He had his telltale signs, such as staring off, pressing his lips together and looking downward, or turning away altogether if he felt he might cry. All things that did persist, but less and less around you. So, you let his ever so slight change of tone slide.
He sat back again and looked at you out of the corners of his eyes. You watched the edge of his lip curl into a smirk; a little spot of glaze in his mustache.
You returned the smirk.Â
"You want me to keep feeding you don't you?"
 He nodded and grinned lazily, and hugged you tight. He hiccupped, and put a hand to his stomach.Â
"You okay?" You leaned into him, resting your hand on his. Dewey hummed and nodded.Â
"Yeah."Â
"Alright." You chuckled, reaching down to the tray. "I just wasn't sure if you were getting full or not."
"Ha! Me? No way! You know I take my pastries very seriously."
You held another roll up to his mouth, smirking. "Ah, but not quite as seriously as your music."
Dewey grinned, biting into the roll. "You got me there, babe."
He proceeded to talk through mouthfuls about how well the kids were doing, and that he couldn't wait for the gig coming up. He was only able to eat about three more before the dull ache of warning in his stomach rose enough to actually concern him. He paused to huff out a sigh, and run his hand up and down his belly. He groaned softly. His head lolled in your direction and he gave you the most pitiful look.
"What is it baby?" You asked teasingly. You could see he was certainly bloated. His shirt had finally ridden up enough to expose a sliver of his belly. But you knew your husband. You knew how he sounded when he was actually in a lot of pain, and you also knew how he sounded when he was milking the duller pain of a full stomach in hopes of getting you to rub his tummy. Naturally with Dewey, simply asking for it wasnât enough.
He whined leaning against you and pathetically rubbing the sides of his gut.Â
"Aww, does my bear's tummy hurt?"
He nodded, whimpering up at you.Â
"Alright, darling." You patted your lap.
Dewey lay across your thighs so that his stomach was in perfect reach. He rested his head on the arm rest, wincing in exaggerated pain.Â
          âAnd the Oscar goes to Dewey Finn!â You said with a clear smirk in your voice.
          Dewey whined. âHave a heart, babe!â He winced. âOoooooh. . . too much sugar.â He slid his hands down his middle pushing his sweatpants off his lower stomach. Something caught in your throat, but you swallowed and kept your cool. You pulled up his shirt, and began giving gentle scritches over the surface of his belly. A goofy grin spread across his face, and he let out a happy whiney growl. The sound made your lips curl into a smile, and a ticklish warmth spread across your face. You flattened your hand against his stomach, adding a little pressure, and rubbing in a circular motion. Your other hand went to his head, pining for the softness of his messy hair. Your fingers ran through his soft, bouncy, tangled locks. Deweyâs grin widened even more, he closed his eyes and pressed his head into your hand.
âThereâs my happy Rockstar.â
âThree and a half more inches.â Billy groaned exasperated.Â
âWait, what?â Dewey looked incredulously down at the young stylist who was currently holding measuring tape around his middle. âWhat do you mean!?â
âI mean youâve added three and a half more inches to your waistline since I last measured you.â Billy sighed, rolling up the tape. Dewey shuddered feeling it slide uncomfortably around him.Â
âIâm going to have to let out your costume shorts again.â
âBut thatâs impossible!â Dewey countered, not really believing it truly was. Still he was extremely embarrassed, it certainly wasnât the news he wanted to hear; especially not so close to a performance. He gave a quick glance around the room, suddenly feeling nervous about any of the kids noticing. He quickly pulled down his shirt and sweater vest. The vest stopped shorter than it should have. Thatâs when the realization hit: heâd been in denial about this for weeks. His clothes had been fitting him a bit tighter lately, especially his pants. Just last week heâd broken the zipper on a pair of his jeans while trying to get them on. Heâd just shrugged it off blaming the washing machine for causing them to shrink.Â
âWith your diet?â Billy huffed. âIâm not surprised. Thereâs a reason your winter costume is bigger than your spring one. Now Iâm gonna have to let that one out, and weâve not even passed Thanksgiving yet!â
Deweyâs stomach felt even heavier. He was aware his weight tended to fluctuate between seasons though he always stayed fairly chubby. The fact that he was already bigger than he was last year bothered him greatly.Â
âWould it kill you to control yourself for once? I mean you eat like a-â
âALRIGHT, Billy!â Dewey interrupted. âJust . . . go do what you gotta do, okay?â
The sassy little preteen turned on his heel and walked off muttering more complaints to himself, leaving Dewey propped up against the desk, brushing his hair back off of his forehead.
âMr. Finn?â
Deweyâs mind jolted.Â
âOh God, of course itâs her.â He looked up to see Summer, and immediately prepared himself for more scolding.Â
âWhat is it, Summer?â He sighed.Â
âFor what itâs worth, I think you look fine.â She seemed. . . worried? It was a pleasant surprise, but it was hard for him to take anything genuinely at the moment. He raised a brow.
âYouâre not still trying to earn gold stars are you?â
âNo, I gave that up forever ago. But it happens doesnât it? Especially in new marriages. Youâre settling down with your wife. Itâs okay.â
âI guess.â Dewey hopped up onto the desk, wincing when it creaked. It always had, but with the awareness of his weight gain, it just made him feel worse. He huffed, trying to push it from his mind.
âI mean I canât blame you for being embarrassed or self conscious. The way the media constantly shoves unattainable body types in our faces is disgusting and suffocating.â
âSummer, this really isnât helping.â Dewey grumbled.Â
âI was fat before I got married.â He thought. He looked down at himself, staring at his stomach. It was filling out his sweater vest more, and looked rounder. He thought back to those little feeding sessions. Those werenât there before you two were married, not that he didnât gorge himself on occasion when he was single, but with you it was different. It made him feel warm, loved, and giddy. Maybe that was the reason he was getting so lost in eating, that, and you baked some really good stuff. He pressed his hand to his belly, gently rubbing his thumb up and down the area just below his ribs, trying to mentally accept that heâd let himself go. He heaved a sigh feeling his gut push his hand forward.
âYep, I have a problem. Damned comfort food.â Then a thought struck suddenly that horrified him: Had you noticed? Surely from all the cuddling and how much youâd rub his tummy when heâd had a bit of an ache from. . . maybe overindulging a little, you would have seen and felt him getting bigger. Was that becoming a problem for you? Why hadnât you said anything about it? Was it because you didnât want to hurt his feelings? Was he becoming less attractive to you? Were you silently hoping heâd lose weight? Would you leave him?
He began to feel light headed.Â
âMr. Finn!â Summer grabbed his collar, forcing him to look at her. He stared at her wide-eyed, panting hard.Â
âBreathe, Mr. Finn. Itâs alright, just breathe.â
Dewey caught his breath. âWhat. . .happened?â The words clumsily spilled out of him in a breathy stutter.
âYou started having a panic attack, I think.â Summer explained.Â
The music coach looked around at his students, who were all staring back at him.Â
âOh great. Pull yourself together, dumbass!â He hopped off the desk, and steadied himself; still a bit dizzy.Â
âIâm gonna go get some water. Then we can start rehearsal.â
âAre you sure youâre alright, Mr. Finn?â Tamika asked.Â
âYeah, youâve always been fat, why is it such a big deal now?â Freddie added. Summer swiftly jabbed Freddieâs ribs with her elbow. âOw!â
Dewey took a deep breath. He shut his eyes and exhaled quietly.
âALRIGHT!â He clapped his hands together. âLetâs get to work! Seriously guys, we've got a gig in two weeks! Zack, youâve got our last song?â
âRight here!â His young guitarist called out holding up a stack of papers. âI made copies during study hall, so there should be enough for everyone.â
âAlright! You came prepared! I like it!â Dewey finally grinned. âNow pass those out! Everyone, get in rock positions. We gotta learn this fast if we want to perform it for this next show!â
The students scrambled to their places, Freddie behind the drums, Katie to the guitar rack, Lawrence to the keyboard, and Zach jogged across the room handing out lyrics and sheet music. Summer handed Dewey a water bottle, determined to make sure he took care of himself after hyperventilating just moments ago. Dewey took the water bottle, thanked Summer, and took a few good swigs. He pulled on his guitar, and took a copy of the sheet music Zack handed him, looking it over. He found himself grinning with pride.
âZack, you are growing so much, dude.â
Zack grinned back, giving a nod and pulling his own guitar on. Rehearsal had begun. It took Deweyâs mind off things at first. He was his usual excitable self seeing the kids bringing the lyrics, music and vocals together. It wasnât bad at all for their first time with a new song, and though they were usually quick to learn, he constantly found himself in awe of their ability. Though perhaps it was more a side effect of his pride in them. Still one can only be hit in the gut by his guitar so many times while jumping around wildly as he always did before being reminded there was more of a gut there. The rest of the rehearsal he was aware of his vest riding up, and the extra weight at his front jiggling a bit as he bounced. He stopped. Zoning in and out between his self-consciousness and the new song, he just stood still, playing and singing softly. The session was going as well as he could have hoped, and yet, he was completely unable to enjoy it.
The door to the apartment opened and Dewey shuffled in. His head hung as he moved toward the bedroom. He couldnât even lift his face to glance up at you. He couldnât face you now. Anxiety tingled through him at the feeling of your eyes on him. He was too flustered to notice that your face bore an expression of concern. Somehow, just knowing you were watching him made him feel absolutely massive, making him more eager to get out of your sight as soon as possible.
âDewey?â He heard you call to his back, but he didnât answer. He quickened his step down the hall to the bedroom.
He tossed his messenger back to the floor, and began to undress wanting to get into looser, more comfortable clothing. He unbuttoned his pants, and sighed with relief despite feeling his stomach bouncing forward. He rubbed the area where they had been digging into his sides, wincing at the angry red marks that lined waist. He sighed. He pulled off his sweater vest and dropped it on the floor. He stepped out of his pants, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Thatâs when he caught himself in the full body mirror on the right side of the bed.
He frowned, and walked closer, pulling his shirt off his shoulders and letting it slide down to the floor behind him. He stopped in front of it, now seeing his reflection in just socks and boxers. For the first time in a while, he really paid attention to his stomach. He had always been fairly self-conscious about his weight, having been made fun of all his life for being the âfat kid.â Eventually heâd learned to brush it off, to joke along, and even embrace it. It seemed with you, heâd forgotten to look at himself with disdain altogether.
He raised his hands to the underside of his belly, and lifted his stomach a little. He grimaced. His chest and shoulders felt heavy, and an increasing flow of disappointment that made his head swim. He let out a sigh. Maybe he hadnât really gotten over his insecurities after all. He breathed in, heaving his chest outward, and pressing his stomach inward with his hands. That only looked more awkward, and it wasnât helping. He let go, exhaling quickly, this time watching his stomach bounce forward.Â
âGod, I really am massive. . ."
He looked back to the mirror, and turned to the side to see from that angle. That was even worse. He could now clearly see those three and a half inches. . . maybe more? He pinched at his middle, looking back down.
âdamn it. . .â
Familiar intrusive thoughts came pouring in; memories of being made fun of on the playground, how poorly he performed in gym, his father claiming he was too spoiled, that heâd grow up to be fat and lazy and never amount to anything, being told he didnât have the body to be a rock idol, that someone sexier would be more successful. His band members in âNo Vacancyâ telling him he shouldnât wear the open leather vests and tight pants they did because he would âscare the chicks away.â Pattyâs occasional critical comments. How heâd given up on anything other than the one night stands he did manage to score because who would want to be seen dating him. Girls wanted someone handsome.
Dewey felt his throat tighten, and his eyes sting, but he swallowed the pain; after all swallowing was what he was good at, right? He huffed in frustration blinking the welling tears out of his eyes, and tore up the blankets from your bed, throwing himself under them. He shut his eyes tightly trying to fall asleep so he didnât have to keep thinking about it. Heâd become so engrossed in his self-loathing that he didnât realize you had poked your head into the room just moments before he got into bed.Â
âDewey?â You tried.
He whined, but not the cute childish way he had before. It sounded more like a frustrated growl.
âAre you alright?â you asked.
âIâm fine.â He sighed. âIâm just tired.â
âDid rehearsal go okay?â
âYeah, it was fine.â
âDid you overdo it?â
Dewey nearly snorted sarcastically. Oh yeah. He definitely had.Â
âProbably. . .â He answered.
âAlright, then. Iâll let you rest a while. What would you like for dinner?â
âIâm not hungry.â He groaned.
âMaybe for later then?â You offered worriedly. âWe can eat a little late, I donât mind.â
âIâm not hungry.â He insisted. âIâm tired, babe. It's been a long day and I just want to be left alone.â
âAre you not feeling well?â
âIâm fine . . .â He was growing more and more irritated, feeling pressured by your presence.Â
âCan I get you anything?âÂ
âIâm fine!â He snapped. âIâm just tired! Iâm not hungry! Iâm not going to be hungry later! I want to be left alone! Now, get out!â
His regret was instantaneous. He could hear the pause that followed. It was silent, yet deafening. He knew then and there that he upset you, and it only made him hate himself even more.
âA-alright baby. I-Iâm sorry. Iâll let you be.â Your broken, shakey response shattered him. Part of him wanted to jump up, and apologize; to hug you and wipe the tears he knew you were quietly crying away. A whole new wave of disappointment came, when he couldnât bring himself to do that. He stayed lying in bed listening to your footsteps and hitched breaths recede back down the hall.
He lay in the same spot for hours, unable to sleep. His stomach growled, his head had started aching, and he was scared to get up and check on you for fear of finding out you'd left him. Even if you hadn't, the idea of disappointing you in more ways than one kept him still as stone. Being fat and mean definitely wasnât attractive. He moved his hands back down to his stomach, pinching the fat into his hands.Â
âGod, I've gotten huge. . . She definitely knows.âÂ
He closed his eyes and exhaled.
âIt's only a matter of time before she leaves me. . . I don't see how she can stay happy married to a fat slob who is only getting fatter. Dad was right. . .âÂ
 He wasnât able to mentally insult himself again long before he felt the covers move over him. He jumped, looking up to see you getting into bed. He froze in the dark feeling your body moving closer. He could hear your arms sliding their way over to him. He panicked and turned away from you.
âDewey?â You whimpered.Â
âCrap!â He didnât want to upset you again. âThink of something, you idiot.â
âIâm sorry, babe. You were right earlier, Iâm not feeling too good. I donât wanna get you sick too.â
His stomach growled, and he winced. You were definitely going to know he was lying now. Yet to his surprise, you sat at his back. You cooed softly.
âAwww, baby. Is your stomach upset?â You reached to touch him, but he curled in on himself, crossing his arms over his belly.
âYeah.â He groaned weakly.Â
âDo you need a bucket?â
âNah, Iâm . . . close enough to the bathroom, I think.â He answered, knowing there was nothing in him to throw up.
âDo you need some water or ginger ale?â Â
Dewey thought for a moment. He didnât want you getting suspicious. He didnât think either would hurt him since neither were actual medicine. Still, whether it was rational or not, he was afraid the fizzy bubbles of the ginger ale might upset his stomach even more, so he went with the safer option.
âWater please.â He whimpered.
âOf course, baby.â
Unfortunately for Dewey, water doesnât do all that much for an empty stomach.Â
Having spent the entire night awake with a constantly grumbling and aching stomach, Dewey felt so much worse the next morning. His head was throbbing, and he had no energy. He felt sensitive to everything, and quite irritable. He refused breakfast, despite the loud growling from his stomach. He was sluggish, but not in his usual way. He was quiet, he seemed anxious, and he wouldnât look at you.
 By now you knew whatever was going on with him was not nausea. You'd seen him with a stomach bug. This was different. He wasn't eating, but not for fear of throwing up. You grew even more worried after he called off rehearsal for that afternoon. It was unlike him to cancel any rehearsals so close to a gig. He was quiet and sat hunched up on the couch, occasionally whining and squirming. He usually lay lazily splayed out in all his glory. And good lord did he have glory. Something was up, you hesitated to anger him, aware of his sensitivity, but the fact that he was avoiding you made you anxious.
âDewey, baby, I know somethingâs bothering you. You know you can talk to me. Please, what is it baby?â
He jumped at the sound of your voice. He tensed up, looking more nervous. . . no terrified. âNothing! Iâm fine!â You could feel the discomfort, as if some part of him was writhing beneath your gaze, not wanting to be seen.Â
âDewey, youâre not yourself. Itâs scaring me.â
âI told you Iâm fine!â He growled. âThere is nothing to be scared of. I just want some time to myself! I donât understand why thatâs so much to ask!â
âIf there is nothing to be scared of then why are you hiding from me!?â You growled. Youâd had enough of this rude tone.
âIâm not hiding-â
âYOU WONâT EVEN LOOK AT ME!â
âCAUSE I DONâT WANT YOU TO LOOK AT ME!â
Your tearful eyes widened. He looked at you in just as much shock, clear that heâd given away more than he meant to.
âWhat? Wh-â Your voice broke. âWhy donât you want me to look at you?â
Dewey hung his head shamefully. âI-Iâve. . . â
You sat down beside him. âWhat is it, Baby?â
âIâve . . . Iâve gotten fatter.â
The flow of your tears down your cheeks stopped, halted by your utter confusion.
âHuh?â
Dewey sighed. âBilly, uh . . . measured me for my winter costume fitting. Iâve got three and a half more inches on my waistline.â
âW-wait, s-so you donât want me to look at you because you gained a little weight?â
He looked up at you, pained. âA little? Babe, this is more than a little! What if Iâm getting too big? What if I get too fat? What if it becomes too much for you?â
âDewey, if it bothered me I would tell you, out of concern for your health. This little bit of extra tummy is nothing to get all worked up about.â You cupped his cheeks rubbing your thumbs back and forth across his hair peppered skin. You gave him a gentle smile.Â
           "Baby, it happens. . . If I'm to be completely honest with you. I've gained a little since we got married too."
Dewey scoffed. "Yeah, very little if any at all, you still look perfect. Meanwhile I'm over here blowing up!"
"Dewey-"
He sat back and gestured to his middle. "Babe, look at me, I'm huge!"
"Baby-"
"It's only a matter of time before I start breaking chairs or struggle to fit through doors."
"Dewey Finn!"
He turned to you, lips trembling. "I-I don't want you to leave me." The top halves of his eyes begin reflecting just above his lower eyelids as tears start welling up. Your hands returned to his face.Â
"Baby, how shallow do you think I am?"
Dewey looked at you, unable to speak without breaking. All he could muster was a whimper.
âAnd what good would starving yourself have done? You know as well as I do how dangerous that is. Did you really think I wouldn't notice you weren't eating? How long did you think you could have actually made this last?â
âI-I. . . uh. . .âÂ
"I love you Dewey. Every part of you. I love your big brown eyes, your messy hair, your smile, your plump little lips, the scruff on your face, your voice, your laugh. I love laying my head on your chest and hearing your heartbeat. I love the way the calluses on the fingertips of your left hand feel against my skin. And you know what else?"
You put your hands on his belly. "That includes this too. I love your tummy, I think it's cute. I have a bit of a thing for it specifically. I like that it's soft, and squishy. I love laying my head on it like a pillow. Weird as it is, I sometimes like the weird noises makes.Â
I love your body, bear. It's sexy to me. I like that you're a bit chubby. It's a lot nicer to be held by someone softer than it is to be held by someone super skinny or muscular. And nothing makes me happier, or feel more safe and comfortable than when I'm held by you.Â
So no. I don't mind that you've gained weight. In fact, part of me is thrilled about it.â
You gave his lower belly a squeeze. It felt like dough in your hands. He squirmed suddenly, and let out a squeak of surprise. Your eyes met his wide ones. You eased your grasp on him, moving your hands back up to his cheeks.
âStill if you want to lose weight I'll support you in that too. I love you regardless, Dewey. So please, stop doing this to yourself."
Dewey stared at you a moment with tired, pitiful, watery eyes, his hands fidgeting. His face crumpled, he sobbed and hugged you tightly to himself, burying his face in your shoulder.Â
"I'm sorry." He whimpered.Â
"Don't be. . . I understand, baby. I've been hard on myself too. But, hey we're married now. You gaining weight just means I'm doing a good job of taking care of you. And I love taking good care of my man."
You patted his stomach playfully, getting a soft hum from him. He lifted his head to look at you. Through his puffy tear stained cheeks a blush started to form.Â
"You really mean all that?" He asked.
"I do. I love you, and your tummy too." You answered, patting the sides of his belly and rubbing them a little, ending with a playful squish at his love handles that made him giggle and blush deeper.Â
"And speaking of your tummy it has been growling like an angry bear since late last night, so I think it's time I continue 'taking care of you.'"
As if on cue, his stomach grumbled loudly making him wince a little.Â
"Mmm. . . yeah." He agreed rubbing it himself now. "I could really use some food."
He looked up at you with his big brown puppy dog eyes and whined. "Soooo hungry."
You chuckled and kissed him. âStay right here, baby. I'll make you a nice big dinner. Course you'll have to start out eating slowly. We want you to keep it down."Â
He stood to follow you, still a bit timid.
"You sure you don't need help?" He asked as you gently pushed him back over to the couch, patting his butt flirtatiously.
"Mm-mm. You're going to rest."
He looked back at you and attempted to smirk, trying to hide his obvious blush. "Okay. Alright. I'm sitting."
Dewey almost couldn't contain himself with the smells pouring in from the kitchen. The scent of his favorites made his stomach growl even more. He poked his head into the kitchen.
âNeed a taste tester, babe?"
You glanced up at him and smirked, putting a hand on your hip. "Will you get back to the couch?"
"I canât help it! I'm hungry and the smell isn't helping." he sighed with pleasure. "This is torture."
"No darling, you wouldn't be rewarded at the end of torture." You chuckled.Â
Dewey let out a dramatic defeated groan heading back to the couch grumbling.Â
Luckily for him though, it wasn't long before you were sitting in his lap feeding him. You paced him carefully, so as not to upset his stomach, but it was like a damn had broken. You fed him that first bite, and he became ravenous from then on. You gave his face and neck little kisses to encourage him.
âGod this is perfect!â He moaned barely intelligible through a full mouth. You ran the fingers of your freehand through his hair, grinning.Â
âYou said the same thing last time I made you a meatball sub.â
Dewey swallowed. âYeah, but it's even more perfect this time.â
âThat might have something to do with how hungry you are. When did you eat last?â
Dewey hummed, drumming his fingers on his stomach as he thought.Â
âBreakfast yesterday?â
âDewey!â
âI couldn't eat! I. . .I was too nervous.â
âWhat about lunch?â
âHm?â
âDon't you have lunch before music coaching?â
â. . . I slept pretty late. Breakfast kinda was lunch.â
You nodded. âYeah that sounds about right.â
âHey!âÂ
You giggled, setting the last bit of the sub in his mouth. He looked up at you skeptically as he chewed and swallowed.
âAre you sure you're okay with. . . this?â He asked anxiously. You slid your hand under his shirt rubbing side to side over his middle.Â
âI promise I am, bear.â You kissed his cheek once more. âStill hungry?â
âA bit.â
âI made a second one and some brownies for dessert. Do you think you can handle it?âÂ
Dewey gave you a cocky grin. âOh I can handle it no problem.â He punctuated the statement with a couple pats on his tummy.
Dewey let out a belch that ended in a moan. He leaned back against the couch, and sighed slowly with each exhale. His hand moved slowly up and down his belly, pausing when a hiccup escaped him. He suddenly felt another pair of hands push down his sweatpants and lift his stomach over them. He sighed with relief, and looked up at you with lazy eyes and a drunken smile.Â
 He felt warm and drowsy, heavy and silly. His half lidded eyes followed as you knelt down in front of him. You kissed the soft area just above his navel and somehow that area seemed to grow warmer. His face certainly did. You slid your hands under either side of his lower stomach and gently gripped the flesh which in turn, made him grip the couch. He groaned with pleasure. Another hiccup jostled his middle against your hands. It was an uncomfortable jerk, but you seemed to know exactly where to massage him to alleviate the tension.Â
He relaxed again, bathing in the warmth and affection.
âDo you feel good, baby?â He heard you ask from somewhere far away.Â
âMmmmmhmmmmm. . .â He managed. He patted the upper part of his belly and smiled deliriously.
âGood.â You stood and leaned down to kiss him. He lifted his head, and returned the kiss to the best of his ability until a hiccup broke it. He froze and looked at you. You giggled softly and nuzzled his nose, he couldn't help but join you, chuckling carefully.Â
You sat at his side, snuggling up to him. You resumed rubbing his belly in a circular motion. He purred.
âMmmm. My wife takes good . . . hic . . . good care of me.â He gave you a big dorky smile and wrapped an arm around you.Â
âThat's right, Rockstar.â Your head came to rest on his shoulder. âThat's right.â
As good as he felt right now, in his heavily food drunk state, nothing prepared him for the way you kissed his belly, determined to leave hickies on every inch of that soft flesh the moment his back hit the bed. He moaned loudly, whining happily. His head swam, he gripped the sheets white knuckled. He was beginning to learn just how much you loved his belly with every bruise and featherlight touch of your lips. You kneaded his middle like the dough you baked with.Â
Heave you done hcs with Wifey scratching/touching Alastorâs ears/tail?
I HAVE NOW??
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
â ď¸Romantic
âď¸Platonic
TW: Suggestive
Description: âď¸âŹď¸
Alastor only trusts his wife to mess with his ears and tail, everyone else would lose a hand if they tried, some people actually have
But with you, it's different, he's comfortable with you and doesn't mind letting you see all his different reactions
Will actually seek you out on certain days, laying himself in your lap and hoping you'll get the hint
You know exactly what he wants but it's more fun if you pretend you don't, patting his head before going back to your book
"Long day, my dear~?"
He let's out a small bleat, his ears twitching upwards in an effort to draw your attention to them
"Better now that I'm with you..."
You don't even glance at his ears, nor do you look at his tail when he suddenly stretches out like a cat and wiggles it
Don't make him say it, it's embarrassing
Alastor let's out another bleat and stares at you pitifully, making you hum and hover your hand over his head
He happily meets it and rubs his head against your hand, letting out a happy sigh as your fingers graze along his ears
You can't help but laugh at him a little, rolling your eyes as you rub and scratch behind his fuzzy ears
"You could've just asked me~"
He's gone lax on top of you, his tail swaying as the rest of him lays in a daze
"Hn... too embarrassing..."
His eyes are closed, head tilting to get you to scratch at a different angle as he practically drools in your lap
Once he's asleep, you lean down to kiss his ears and watch them twitch from the soft touch
He's such a cute man
His tail is a slightly different story, he covers it for a reason and finds the area to be very sensitive
His tail is far more expressive than his ears, and you use it against him whenever you can
So usually, when you're touching it, it's to rile him up or let him know just what he's in for later
He's taken off his jacket and is distracted by whatever he's working on? His tail slowly swaying as he hums to himself with his back turned to you?
How are you not supposed to mess with his tail when he leaves it out like that???
You saddle up next to him, kissing his cheek and neck affectionately as your hand creeps it's way down his back
"Darling, just what has gotten into you~?"
His tone is playful, tilting his head to give you more access as he wraps one arm around you to keep you from pulling away
Your other hand plays with one of his ears, leaning up to kiss the tip of it before whispering in his ear
"Nothing yet~"
Your words paired with the fact that you're twirling his tail in your fingers makes his entire body go hot
His ears stick up straight, and he drops what he's holding, giving you a wobbly smile as he tries to compose himself
"You are an insatiable woman!"
You just smile at him sweetly and keep rubbing his tail, the traitorous thing wagging from the attention as a pleased shudder runs through the rest of his body
It's all he can do to suppress a groan, giving you a dangerous look but not trying to stop you
"Upstairs. Our bedroom. Give me two minutes."
You can't help but laugh and give him one last kiss before sauntering out of the room, eager to do as Alastor says
You stop at the doorway, looking back to give him a look that would scare most people but instead turns Alastor on
"Don't keep my waiting, Alastor~ Or I'll come back and bite those cute ears of yours~"
His ears and tail both stick up straight, frantically putting away his little project and scrambling after you
Summary : During a bonding activity at the hotel, parents get brought up. Everyone seemed okay with talking a little about their parentage, but Alastor was off put by the topic. He didnât think anyone would notice the way his smile strained, or that anyone would care when he slipped away, but you did. You cared. And you wanted to help him, even if he didnât want to accept it.
Tags : GenderNeutral!reader, reader is shorter than Al, soft!Alastor, sorta, fluff, hurt/comfort, Alastor misses his mom, Alastor needs a hug, Alastor is losing it
Notes : Lots of people seemed to enjoy my interpretation of soft Alastor in my last oneshot, so hereâs another one! I heart Alastor sm. Enjoy!
Word Count : 2.3k
ââââââ
âWell you know! When your dad is the king of Hell, it complicates things sometimes, and with as long as my mom has been goneââ Charlieâs voice grows distant as you lose focus. Itâs not that you donât care, youâve all just been talking about your parents for a good hour and a half. It started with a bonding exercise Charlie had decided would be fun. It started with talking about who people who meant a lot to you, and when Husk mentioned his father, everyone began to add on.
You looked around at everyoneâs faces, and everyone seemed content with the conversation. Charlie was droning on about her familial issues, Angel had talked about his mother beforehand, and even Pentious mentioned some fond memories of his parents. But Alastor had been uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole experience.
Your gaze finally falls on The Radio Demon himself, an uncomfortable and awkward posture taking its hold on him. He was standing straighter than usual, his grin that was as consistent as he was creepy was now fairly strained, as his eyes darted, trying to look at anything but the company he surrounded himself with. Your brows furrowed as you stared, though you tried to make it not so obvious. His shoulders sunk for a moment as you watched him suck in a breath, readjusting to his normal position and finally breaking his silence.
âYouâll all have to excuse me for a moment, I have some business to attend to!â His preppy voice cut through Charlieâs dialogue as the focus in the room catches on him. His eyes finally find someone to land on. You! Oh, heâs looking at you. You blink as his gaze narrows, turning on his heels as the rest of the room murmurs goodbyes. Your eyes followed his path, watching him disappear further into the hotel.
âI didnât think we had anything else on the agenda today,â Vaggie glances to her girlfriend, looking for some sort of explanation for the overlordâs odd behavior. You cast a glance Charlieâs way as well, curious, but you were met with a shrug and an absentminded smile.
âMust be personal errands or something! We can keep going with the activity,â she motions to you with her hand, encouraging you to speak about your own experiences. Your lips pressed into a thin line as your eyes drifted back to the spot where Alastor had once stood. You had an itching sensation in your brain that you had a hunch wouldnât fade unless you figured out what was going on.
You and Alastor were close, to some extent. He spoke to you more openly than any of the others at the hotel. And you were the same with him. But one thing he would never talk about was his life before Hell. It was a mystery. Like a locked vault thatâs code was long gone. But you longed to grow closer to him. Youâd be lying if you said your feelings toward the demon hadnât begun to bubble into something more, but now wasnât the time to process that. You had more interesting things to think about.
After a long beat of silence, you stood up.
âSorry Charlie, but I gotta use the bathroom, Iâll be back in a bit!â You assure with a toothy grin and a thumbs up. The princess could only giggle, nodding at you and ushering to go take care of your âbusiness.â
You hurried off in the direction Alastor had gone, going through a list of places heâd likely be in your head. Kitchen? No, heâd gone the opposite direction. Radio tower? He only went up there to broadcast. Library? Hotel doesnât have one of those. You frowned. Heâd like one though, you were sure of it.
His room.
It was the only other logical place to check in the hotel. You picked up your pace, his room was on one of the higher floors of the hotel. Finally reaching the elevator, you hesitate. Alastor wasnât a vulnerable person. If something was wrong, would he tell you? You pressed the button for the elevator, despite doubt eating at the inside of your stomach. Stepping onto the dinky machine, you pressed the button for the floor you needed, taking a breath in and out. You needed to know what was going on with him.
The elevator hummed to life as it hoisted you upwards, an awkward silence falling over you, despite there being no one else in the machine. It dinged as you hit your desired floor, and you sighed, happy to be off of the unreliable thing. You continued your journey to The Radio Demonâs room, you face beginning to sour as you realized how unrealistic you were being. Al would never admit to you what was wrong. You knew that. Why were you trying?
As you reached his door, you stared up at it. A deer skull was etched into the red wood, a golden knob flourishing in the flickering lights of the hotel. You couldnât give up on him. Youâd gone through a lot to try and get close with Alastor. You couldnât throw that effort away because of doubt. How idiotic would that be?
Without much thought, you placed your hand on that beautiful golden knob, slowly turning it, trying to be as quiet as possible. The door slowly swung open, not so much as a creak coming from its hinges. You made a mental note to ask him how he got his door to be so quiet when all this was over, gently closing the door behind you. Sat on his bed, hunched over and face in his hands was The Radio Demon himself. Your eyes scanned the room as you tried your absolute best to not loudly question how he had a SWAMP in his room. Now wasnât the time.
You walked into his room, approaching the deer-like demon in silence. You could hear muffled sniffles from under his hands, and he seemed far too lost in his own thoughts to pay your presence any mind. You, with slight hesitation, placed your hand on his shoulder. His body stiffened as his fingers parted slightly, his red eyes peering up at you through his lashes.
âAlastor, are youââ
A black tendril wrapping around your arm and pushing you back put a hold on your sentence. You stumbled backwards, barely catching yourself as you looked Alastor. He stood up, fast, tear stains brandishing his cheeks as his smile, that was somehow still there, strained into what was the closest thing to frowning he may be capable of. His neck bent wildly, his body growing larger in size as his eyes turned a shadowy black.
âGET OUT.â His voice was crackled with radio static, his teeth glued shut as his spoke through them like he was, well, a radio.
Youâd never wanted to run away more than in that moment. This had gotten intense VERY quickly, and it was a bit frightening. But as your neck craned up and your eyes met his, and youâd never been met with such sadness.
âI canât. Not until you talk to me, Alastor,â your words were firm, but your eyes were soft. Full of compassion. He shook his head, eyes squinting shut.
âYou want me to talk to YOU? Why are you even trying to pretend to care?!â Alastorâs voice cracked as he slammed his fists onto the ground, the floor shuddering beneath him. You stepped closer, your eyes pleading silently that heâd hear you. Not just listen to your words, but comprehend them.
âIâm not trying to pretend anything. But I could tell you were upset earlier, and itâs obvious that you are now! I just want to be here for you! I want to understand!â Your voice rose in volume as you stood your ground, not faltering even this slightest bit. An almost animalistic growl left The Radio Demonâs throat as he moved closer to you.
âYou truly want me to believe youâd âunderstand?!â My mother was the ONLY person I had when I was alive, she was the only one that was there for me! The only one Iâd ever DARE let myself be vulnerable around because she would NEVER hurt me,â Alastorâs hands clutched his head, his fingers tangling in his hair as his eye twitched. You listened with a solace look upon your face, narrowing your eyes at him with pity creasing your brow. âAnd NOW look at me. A demon. A MONSTER. Iâve ended countless lives, she was a saint among the living, and I am a HELLSPAWN. What would,â he collapsed to his knees, arms falling limp to his sides as he returned to his natural form, his voice falling quiet. âWhat would she think of me now? Her precious pride and joy. A murderer. She would be disgusted by me. Does it even matter? Iâll never see her again. She died long before I did. And now Iâm here. Alone.â
Silence fell over the room as Alastorâs chest heaved, tears streaking his face once again. You waiting a moment before approaching him, kneeling down in front of the taller man. You gently, somewhat hesitantly, took his cheek in your hand, tilting his head to make him look at you. Your eyes scanned his face, eyeing that never ending smile. Your lips tugged upward as your thumb caressed his cheek, making a moment of contact with the corner of his lips.
âI bet your mom misses that smile,â his ears pinned down to the sides of his head, Alastorâs trembling hand covered your own, his smile tugging tighter as he leaned into your touch. âYouâre not alone, Alastor.â
He fell into you, and your eyes widened in surprise. His head buried in the crook of your neck, you could feel his tears coating your skin and shirt. His arms wrapped around your torso, his claws were surprisingly gentle. Almost like he was being cautious. You moved from your knees to your butt with a quiet thump, pulling his body closer to yours. One of your arms wrapped tightly around the lower half of his torso, the other around his shoulders, your hand combing through his soft hair.
Alastorâs face was warm against your skin, you could hear every sniffle, feel every shudder as soft sobs wracked his body. Sometimes, being in Hell made you forget, every person you met down here was once innocent. They were once alive, vulnerable, and just someone trying to find their place in the world. Big bad overlords like the on you were cradling in your arms were once human. They all were someoneâs pride and joy, someoneâs baby, someoneâs entire reason to keep living. Despite what theyâd become, they once were soft and pure, nothing is born evil. And times like this made you remember that.
After a good few minutes of The Radio Demon crying into your shoulder, heâd finally calmed, now just sitting in that same position, holding you close, a small sniffle every once in a while. Youâd been lulling soft words into his ear, your best attempt to relax him. Slowly, Alastor picked his head up, straightening himself to sit sort-of-in-front-of-you, your legs were a little tangled due to the way youâd both been sitting for the past while. He looked into your eyes, his hands were gently fiddling with the fabric of your shirt as he averted his gaze.
âThis was. A relieving experience,â he admits, his smile small but seemingly genuine. His face was tear stained, there were light bags under his eyes, but all and all, he seemed a lot lighter.
âGood. Thatâs,, thatâs good. Iâm glad,â you gave a lopsided grin, moving your hands to caress his arms. âSeemed like you mightâve needed that.â
âI suppose I did,â he returned the motion, his hands falling to your hips, though loosely.
This was the most physically affectionate youâd ever seen Alastor. He, generally speaking, didnât like much contact. The most people would get from him is a simple handshake or pinch of the cheek, maybe an arm around the shoulder, but it was almost always in a condescending way. But this was very different. It was softer, more intimate. You felt almost privileged to see this side of him.
âI meant what I said,â you break the string of comfortable silence. Alastor tilted his head, expecting some elaboration. âAbout wanting to be here for you. Whenever you need it, Iâm always there.â
âI know you did, my dear. I would like to. Hm,â a pause. âIâm sorry. For snapping at you. Itâs hard to be open when we are quite literally in Hell. I shouldâve known better than to think youâd ever try to use this against me. Youâd never do that, would you?â His grip on your hips tightened slightly. A warning. But also, a plead.
âOf course not, Iâd never even think of it,â you gave his arms a reassuring squeeze, and his grip on you loosened. You could only smile, pulling yourself closer to him and placing your forehead against his. Alastor rolled his eyes though when they fell back to you, his whole expression softened. This was a tender moment, and wasnât one that youâd likely ever get again.
You admired him for a short moment, allowing silly thoughts of romance and companionship dance in your head. Alastor, The Radio Demon, with a lowlife sinner like you? It would be unprecedented. And yet, you couldnât help but let the softness of this moment cloud your judgement. You leaned in, kissing the corner of his mouth Alastor tensed. As you pulled away, you could see a very obvious blush across his face.
âSorry,â you murmur with a smile, pulling away completely, withdrawing all contact. âLet me know if you need anything else, okay?â
Before he could reply, you gave a gentle pat on his head, and then walked out of his room. The overlord could only blink, watching you disappear. His heart fluttered with excited jitters as he stood, dusting himself off. He may just have to come to you with his issues more often.
