#has ANYONE cooked HIM breakfast in forever??

[skycladcoyote]

Okay so I know that some people are bothered by stoner-Jonathan's characterization in season 4.. but at the same time, it makes a whole lot of heartbreaking sense (if the writing is at all aware of this of course):

Jonathan has had to handle undertaking the responsibility of an adult and parent, as well as struggling with poverty and low-key neglect throughout his entire childhood. When someone adapts to function under a constant sense of stress and outside pressure, their brain and nervous system gets wired around it. Chronic stress becomes their 'normal' baseline. The sudden removal of pressure and stress alone isn't an instant relief and healing to them, it can be totally disorienting and distressing because they can't magically readjust to that new environment they didn't evolve in.

Practically overnight, Jonathan gets uprooted to California, his mom has a better income and Will is older and more independent. This massive drop in expectations, purpose and pressure is destabilizing as hell. Jonathan never got to learn how to simply exist without that pressure, how to be self-motivated without urgency and survival instinct firing him up. Meanwhile, everyone around him are moving on and yet he still has nobody actually guiding and helping him through the metric ton of needs he's ever had which were never addressed or met. As always it is assumed that he can just quietly carry on and roll into actual adulthood after basically raising himself and, largely, his family.

It's absolutely no wonder that he'd start self-medicating with weed, trying to feel at peace and relaxed instead of lost, aimless and like everything feels hollow and unmotivating for no apparent reason.

(That said, what I will lose my shit about is if they have Nancy get all aw I'm not into you anymore because you're not 'ambitious' enough without the story addressing the fact that he can't just walk off all that shit alone after putting everyone's needs above his own for fucking years. I mean she has the right to break any relationship off, but framing it like it's his failure or character flaw and giving him nothing for it would be SO fucking WRONG.. But they've had great compassion for their characters so far so I still trust they couldn't fail that horribly)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

mornings with suguru feel like a pipe dream.

there’s something honeyed in the air, bleeding into the scent of freshly brewed espresso, fried eggs resting on the stove, newly bought flowers on the windowsill — apricot nectar heavy on your tongue, dripping down your lip in a sticky stream. his thumb reaches over to wipe it away before you can even try.

suguru is sitting right in front of you, looking like what dreams are made of. eyes a little bleary, mind still sinking into the reality of morning, hair put up into a messy bun; raven strands tickling his forehead and framing his eyes, warm and fond, a nice mocha brown. he’s wearing a white button-up, the scent of laundry detergent seeping into the fabric. he’s smiling, and you’re so in love you can barely breathe.

he always wakes up before you. always has breakfast prepared, or half-done, by the time you stumble into the kitchen on unsteady feet — you love clinging to his back while he cooks. but you love this even more.

outside the frail glass of your window, the world is subdued by the changing seasons. autumn is in full bloom, the sky enveloped by wet, molten clouds, a light layer of mist; on the ground are a row of golden trees. it’s a cozy, indoor kind of morning, the kind that makes your veins feel all sleepy, heart all tender, as if melted down by the gentle rain — the kind that has you sipping from your cup, rubbing your eyes, watching your fiancé from across the kitchen table.

there’s nectar on your tongue, espresso behind your teeth, and you wish you could open your mouth and speak. but you’re too tired, still far too groggy — far too sentimental. you can scarcely breathe. you can only sit there, and silently think: i could never love anyone like you. could never even come close.

do you have any idea what i’d do for you?

you’re sure he doesn’t. sure he prefers to see himself as your protector, not the other way around — that he’s most comfortable being a caretaker, rather than someone who gets taken care of. you know how he is. it’s in everything; the cup of coffee he made for you, the shirt he draped over you last night. his own, always, as if he thinks the fabric will bring you sweet dreams. it’s in the way he holds your hand when you cross the sidewalk, the way his thumb rubs over your knuckles when you’re anxious. it’s in the rain, gentle and comforting, watering your plant-like heart.

there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

nothing. absolutely nothing.

i’d drink a million cups of coffee, one after the other — i’d run out in the rain and pluck the apricots from every tree. i’d listen to that song you like. i’d listen to it until my eardrums bleed, and still wouldn’t stop.

nothing, nothing, nothing.

he turns his head, to gaze out the window, his bangs swaying gently as he does — and your gaze gulps down the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, every flutter of his lashes. he parts his lips, and murmurs something about the weather. he’s smiling, a soft curve, his eyes just barely crinkled —

and you can’t breathe.

you’re so lovely it kills me.

your chest aches with yearning. you want to reach across the table and touch him, but you’re still too immobilized by how beautiful he is, how intense this love has come to feel. how devastating it is, to have this kind of life, to know you can do nothing but savour every bit of it. you can’t stop staring, drinking in his softened features, that content look in his amber-coloured eyes — the rasp under his velvety voice. your baby, your angel, your sun. 

(you want him to shine forever.)

when you look down at the table, there’s an open palm waiting for you. smooth skin, soft lines, gleaming under the dim glow of the kitchen lights. 

you look up, and suguru smiles.

he doesn’t speak until you’ve lifted your hand, tangled your fingers together with his. it feels good, the skin to skin contact, the sight of your rings pressed up against one another. his thumb begins to rub gentle circles into the knots of your knuckles, just the same as always. soothing, rhythmic, a mantra you’ve learned by heart.

”something on your mind?” he asks, softly.

(everything.)

”nothing,” you answer, a quiet lull of your tongue, averting your gaze with a heat to your ears. it’s too early for him to be so gorgeous, to aim his unbridled attention in your direction. ”i just love you…”

his lashes flutter, for a moment.

then his mind catches up to your words, and he laughs — breathy and sweet, the slightest gravelly residue. squeezing your palm in his own.

”i love you too,” he croons, lips curled upwards, and you swear you could never tire of hearing him say those words. ”is someone still a little tired, hm?”

”… maybe.”

a low chuckle. he tugs at your hand, gently, bringing it his lips; they’re warm against your skin, his hot breath seeping out, gliding across your knuckles, stopping right by your ring finger. his eyes gleam with mirth, like the golden leaves just outside your window, pressed against the glass. his voice comes out as a purr. ”do you need another cup, my love?”

his lips trails down, all the way to your wrist, catching onto your pulsepoint. you can’t help but shiver.

”or should i wake you up just like this?”

he’s smiling, and something about it seems smug. he knows exactly how weak you are. and he must think he’s flustering you, acting so suave — but that’s not quite it. when he’s tilting his head like that, he looks more like a puppy than anything, so cute you think you might just melt right through the floorboards.

through the sleepy haze of your mind, to the tips of your fingers — your brain retaliates.

you tug his hand back, bringing yours with it; all the way to your puckered lips. lazily smearing a kiss on the inside of his palm, just barely catching the hitch of his breath, the inhale his heartbeat deigns to swallow down. it makes you smile, against his skin.

(and the tips of his ears bloom with heat.)

everything i need is you. the words are silent, unspoken, only barely mouthed against his skin. i don’t need the rain or the sun. just you, only you. 

when you pull away, your intertwined fingers finding their way back to the tablecloth, suguru gives you another smile. almost painfully tender.

you can’t help but feed into each other, like this. on sleepy mornings, when the words don’t come as easy, so actions are all you have. that, and loving gazes. all you can think is that you want more autumn mornings; you don’t want any of them to end before you’ve finished sipping from your cup of espresso, finished watching him from across the table. not until you’ve woken up enough to spill the words helplessly building up in the back of your throat, the butterflies stuffed in between your ribs. 

until then, this morning mantra will have no choice but to continue. until then, you’ll opt to stay silent.

until then, all you can do is stare.

(and all your mind can think, is nothing, nothing, could ever measure up to this. nothing in the world.)

[iiwaijime]

DESTINY — O. MIYA

cws; swearing, gn?reader, just fluff...!

wc; 713

osamu miya.

he's the type to cook for you, always. like, regardless of how well you can cook, or how different your schedules are.

"what time will you be up?" he asks.

"6:15."

and he'll be there cooking your breakfast already.

that's not to say you don't experience lazy mornings, either, when osamu has his arms wrapped loosely around you, and your legs are tangled together. when sometimes you talk about everything, and other times you talk about nothing, and he kisses your shoulder and you kiss his hands. he's warm, too, warm enough that you're kicking the covers off yourself and scooting away from him once you're awake enough. he's undeterred, though, following you around like a determined puppy until you finally give in and let him pull you back into his chest.

he's the type to absolutely smush your cheeks together when he kisses them; he definitely loves kissing your cheeks. he also loves nose kisses!!! he adores your nose — your everything, really, he just loves you a lot.

he loves chauffeuring you around, like hell YEAH he's your man and he will do everything for you. on slower days, he probably like, drives with one hand and uses the other to hold on to your hand or just rests it on your thigh.

speaking of which! this man is HUGE on physical contact. it's nothing too showy, and it doesn't really matter if you're in public or not. like, he ALWAYS holds your hand, everywhere! or has a pinky hooked around yours if you can't do that! OR OR OR when it's cold, he holds your hand and tucks it into his pocket along with his own.

adding onto the when will you wake up thing, when the two of you didn't live together he'd make sure he was awake before you so you could see a good morning text when you woke up, whether you woke up super early or super late.

when osamu falls in love, he falls so fucking hard. this man gets you flowers and keeps one for himself so he knows when to get you new ones. he buys you coffee every day and has a picture of you in his wallet, and a polaroid in his phone case. when you start living together, he writes you stupid lovey dovey notes and sticks them around everywhere. he even does the notes app thing and he knows everything you like. his wallpaper and lockscreen are both pictures of you, and he unironically has an i love my partner tshirt. probably more than one, if i'm being honest.

he lazes around in bed with you when you want, and has all your favourite movies downloaded everywhere, just in case. want to watch a new movie? he's bought the tickets before you even ask. he takes you to libraries and bookstores, and he dances with you in the rain, and goes on walks with you, and he's just so perfect, even when he's not. and he thinks — no, he knows you're perfect, even if you think otherwise.

he's SO good at comforting you. if you don't want to talk, that's okay! he'll hold you until you feel better, or until you're ready to tell him. or he can distract you with the stupidest small talk, if that's what you need. and he knows exactly what to say, always. he understands you, in silence and frustration and grief and pain. when you're okay, and when you're not. and whatever happens, he's always there for you.

and he's not a poet, and all he really knows is volleyball and cooking, but he swears you're some sort of wizard, because everything you do and everything you say is magic, and he's never been more enamoured by anyone, ever. if love is a person, it's you.

he's never believed in soulmates, but he knows he's made for you, made to love you, made to be yours. he's never really believed in things like fate either, but if he's destined to spend the rest of his life like this, with you, he thinks he could learn to live with it. but that's a lie, really, because he's not just okay with it. he's actually so fucking down to have you as his forever.

WSG UR FAVOURITE ACADEMIC WEAPON WITH THE COOLEST CHILLEST MOM EVER HAS POSTED rubs hands together evilly PLEASE LIKE FOLLOW REBLOG AND OR COMMENT IF YOU LIKE IT REALLY MEANS A LOT TO ME!!!

[churipu]

𐙚 THREE TIMES NANAMI MADE YOU CRY ⋆ ˚｡

featuring. nanami kento x reader

warning. referral to the reader as 'wife'

note. i just felt so mellow today — because a lot of sad nanami edits have been passing by in my fyp and i'm about to have a mental breakdown because of it, when i catch gege >:( a lil note, i cried writing this bcs i miss nanami so much help

✴ ONE : WHEN HE PROPOSED TO YOU

it took him a short time to realize that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you — he sees you cooking breakfast at the crack of dawn just for him before he goes to work, and he realizes that, yes, you were the one for him.

"do you want to marry me?"

your head turned to him slowly, eyes following just a few seconds after and you blinked, "i'm sorry, what?" you ask him.

nanami's eyes raised up to meet yours, "do you want to marry me?" he repeats his question calmly.

it was a day like every other — the both of you sitting on the couch, the television on yet nobody's paying attention to it. nanami has his eyes on the magazine in his grasp, and you were on your phone, scrolling through social media.

"yeah, of course i do."

nanami takes out a velvet colored box from his pocket and opens it up, you stared at him in confusion; wondering if this was a joke or not, is he actually proposing to you while you were in your pjs? but that actually didn't bother you — it was the fact he is proposing to you.

"marry me." he murmurs out softly, taking the beautiful ring out of its place, waiting for your acknowledgement.

your tears began flowing out and it took nanami by surprise, "sweetheart, i'm sorry. was it too sudden? you don't have to—" you shook your head at him, wiping your tears away.

"i'm just so . . . happy, ken."

that was the first time he made you cry.

✴ TWO : HIS WEDDING VOWS

your wedding was a simple ceremony. it was filled with fun and laughter, your loved people were there — his loved people were there, gojo and his students were there. it was just, a one fine day, really.

when it comes to the delivering of vows, traditionally; the groom goes first.

"y/n, i'm not good with my words, but you know me better than anyone else, so i assume you know that as well. we met five years ago when i bought a casse-croûte in a bakery you worked in; and if you had told me then that we'd be standing here and i'd be spending the rest of my life with you, maybe i wouldn't believe in you and told you that you were saying nonsense.

first and foremost, i would never thought that a one stop shop in a bakery would lead me to the love of my life — that day, i decided to stop by the bakery you worked in because my usual place was closed for the day, when i think about that, i get so overwhelmed; if my usual shop had opened that very day, maybe you would be standing here with another man, another man who is not me.

y/n, you are the most curious person i have ever met in my life. and i am pretty sure you are asking yourself now, what is kento thinking of right now? the answer is you. i am thinking about you now, later, and forever. from the first day you asked me if i liked casse-croûte, i have not once stopped thinking about you.

i was never a person who sought for relationship or thought of it a lot in the past, but when you came into my life. i began thinking of my future with you, making our own happy family, having kids, traveling the world, all of that. the moment i saw you take your time to wake up before me to cook me breakfast before i go to work, i knew i just had to make you my wife. i want to spend the rest of my life with you.

you love me and completed me in ways i do not know existed, and my love — i promise you, that from here onwards, i will continue to love you and every piece of you and for who you are yet to become. i promise to be your husband, your best friend, your partner in crime as you always like to name it, and your number one supporter, also as you name it.

above all, i promise to show you how lucky i am to have you in my life. i cannot wait to start a new chapter in my life with you, i love you."

it was safe to say that everyone in the room was crying, including you (and gojo, who had to be escorted out by megumi because the male was straight up sobbing loudly).

✴ THREE : WHEN HE DIED

shibuya. october 31, 2018. god, how much you dreaded every single thing that happened in there — just the thought of october coming after that year made your stomach churn in sadness.

the day a lot of people lost their life, including nanami.

nanami is a strong man, and you know so. you believed in him, never did you once stopped believing in your husband; but the whole time nanami was fighting for his and everyone's life in shibuya, you were back at home with your few months old son.

"daddy is going to be okay, yeah? he's gonna be back soon," you cooed to your son despite the rising wariness.

but no, nanami never came back.

the one to break the news was no other than itadori yuuji himself, the sole witness to your husband's passing — he knocked on your door, beaten up, although his wounds were tended to. you knew the shibuya incident scarred the young boy with something that couldn't be closed off now or maybe ever.

"he's not coming back, is he?" you ask the teen with a sad smile.

itadori broke down on your porch that day. and you, nanami's wife was the one comforting him, after all, watching someone you care die in front of you was traumatizing. but itadori blamed himself for nanami's death — he was baffled when you pulled him into a tight hug, "it's my fault y/n-san! i killed him. he's dead because of me."

as much as nanami doesn't display his affection to itadori, you were a witness to how nanami really feels towards the young boy. telling you how he wishes your son would grow up to be just like itadori, bubbly and energetic. nanami cares about itadori like the boy was his own — although failing to show it.

"did he . . . did he say anything before he . . ?"

itadori cried in your embrace, "he . . . said he was sorry. for not coming back. and that he loves you and your son so much . . ." itadori was barely taking breaths in, he was hyperventilating in your arms, "he said he was sorry that he won't be able to accompany you to malaysia."

"okay." you didn't cry as itadori was breaking the news to you, you couldn't.

nanami's death quieted you — you didn't cry the first week, still not believing he was actually gone. finding yourself sitting on the couch, waiting for the male to open the door and to call out for you, "y/n, i'm home."

but it never happened. nanami was really gone. he's really dead.

grief is such an odd feeling, you relied on itadori to look after your son for the first two weeks as you didn't find yourself in the right mind to be capable of taking care of your own flesh and blood. a day before your son was going back into your care — you went grocery shopping, to buy things both nanami and you used to buy.

it was a mistake on your part not to use a basket or a trolley, putting all the stuff on the cashier counter was hard work. and as the baby food you put on top of the pile slipped through your fingers and dropped onto the floor, splattering the contents everywhere, you can't help but to let a few stray tears out.

your silent sobs turning into a full blown breakdown in the middle of a grocery shop as everything began coming in, a reality check.

that nanami was no longer going to be there with you again, you couldn't feel him anymore, you couldn't hear him anymore, you couldn't smell his cologne anymore.

but the world doesn't stop for that, it will keep going and you had to go on with your life without him.

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[mushroomates]

can they cook: fellowship edition

samwise: obviously. makes the best food ever. doesn’t even follow recipes anymore. can bake too. makes really great pies, both sweet and savory. makes the dough himself.

frodo: no. sam and bilbo mostly cooked for him. sam taught him how to cook potatoes. he messed even that up. he helps by doing dishes and cutting and washing food. he can bake well, though.

pippin: once put an egg on the oven for breakfast. it was in its shell, and exploded. don’t let him near the knives or stove top.

merry: makes pretty good edibles. has mastered brownies and cookies, once put weed in a tart. can make dry sandwiches, that’s about it.

legolas: lmao no. accidentally on a raw diet. he eats everything as is. if you’re luckily he will give it a quick rinse. doesn’t eat meat, probably for the best. one time sam saw him take a bite out of a raw onion like it was an apple and lost his mind.

gimli: yes! makes good roasts and hearty stews. has the best jerky, and puts way to much pepper in everything. uses ground oven for everything he can- he digs a hole, fills it with food, and lights a fire over it. says the dirt add flavor.

aragorn: it’s edible. mostly unseasoned. will use herbs for medicine instead. knows how to perfectly cook any meat, but can’t make a salad for the life of him.

boromir: grill dad. he only cooks over flame. carrots? grill. potatoes? grill. nuts? grill. he’s a big fan of just, throwing the food into the fire pit. to be fair, it tastes pretty good. only uses salt, pepper and paprika.

gandalf: no one has ever seen gandalf cooking. truth is, he can, in theory. hasn’t actually cooked in forever. the last thing he made was a birthday cake. it was no one’s birthday. he ate it by himself and didn’t share with anyone.

[i-cant-sing]

My mind is just coming up with amazing ideas today. I guess that's what happens when u don't study for a week... (this is all happening my academic burnout sm)

I present to you- Yandere Dad Hawks x bird kid reader.

Look Dad Keigo was gonna be a doting father for any kid, biological or not, but there's just something about his bio kid who also HAS HIS QUIRK😭😭😭 Like he can't stop awing at the sight of his little baby bird having tiny tiny red wings like papa.

The ever loving, forever doting, always spoiling his baby, that's the kind of dad Keigo is. I mean, putting his own childhood trauma aside, he still wants you to have the best childhood ever. There are very few things he says no to (only coming second to Dad Dabi who only says no to things that will actively put you in danger. Want ice cream for breakfast? Okay. Want to go to 7/11 with grandpa Enji? Hell no.). Child reader wants an Endeavour hero figure? Of course, darling! Here, take one from daddy's collection 🥰🥰🥰 Dont wanna eat your peas? Sorry, doll. You're gonna have to finish your plate, even if you try to look adorably menacing by fluffing up your wings.

Oh and your wings😭 You know how Rei has a weird thing for your hair (and she definitely gives you a flea bath after you hang out with hawks)? Yeah that's how Keigo is with your wings- obsessed. He takes care of them, cleans them out and even has you sit for hours if that's how long it takes him to groom them. "Its no use swatting me, baby. I'm still not letting you move an inch until I'm done. So, just sit back and relax.🥰" keigo would say as he hands his phone to watch some shows.

I headcanon that Keigo's kid will be sassy and quick as him. The two can bicker for hours, and no ones really sure whether you're just that good at arguments or if Keigo just let's you win because he loves you so much.

I can also see Keigo and reader bonding over their mutual love for pro hero Endeavour (but in very different ways💀)

Dad Keigo adores spending time with you, especially now that you're put in a safehouse with only a handful people he let's you meet. A major part of his life is feeding you. Maybe it's the bird brain, maybe it's his childhood trauma, but Keigo has to cook meals for you and he has to watch you eat them. He's not sure, but it makes him be at peace knowing that you sleep with a tummy full and a warm bed.

I think as far as flying goes, Keigo tells you to only to do it under his supervision. You know how sometimes you forget how ti breathe and then making a concious effort to breathe makes it difficult to do so? That's what Keigo thinks happens. He thinks that if you fly alone, you might suddenly forget how flap your wings or maybe you get tired and then you're just crashing down to the ground. Unfortunately for his weak heart, you don't listen to him and fly as high as you can.

Would Keigo let you go to school? Initially, yes. But it only takes one incident, something even as harmless as a stupid prank call threatening his child (Dabi did the call), and that's enough for him to go hay wire and pull you out of school and move to a new safehouse, cut off from anyone and everyone. When he has to leave, he'd either drop you off at Enji's, OR have someone from the Hero Comminsion come and babysit you.

You can pout and cry and scream at him all you want, he's not changing his mind. You're his baby, his only light, only will to live, he can't risk your life.

His life would only become more complicated if either of you get a love interest. For you, the choices are: Katsuki, Tokoyami, Izuku. For him, the choices are: Dabi, your baby mama, Miruko.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♥︎ Pairing: boyfriend!jisung x chubby!fem!reader

♥︎ A/N: If you're a chubby/thick/plus sized babe feeling not so great about yourself and you happen to love our sweet Hannie, I hope you find some comfort in this.

boyfriend!jisung who fell for you the moment he saw you but took forever to work up the nerve to ask you out on a date because he was afraid you'd say no.

boyfriend!jisung who's an introvert that doesn't like to go out a lot but went out every weekend for a whole month just for the chance to hang out with you.

boyfriend!jisung who spontaneously confessed his feelings for you one night and turned the cutest shade of red when he found out you felt the same.

boyfriend!jisung who's hangs on every word you say so when it was time to plan your first date he knew how to make it perfect for you.

boyfriend!jisung whose friends adored you before they even met you because this man couldn't stop running his mouth to them about how amazing you were. They've literally never seen him so head over heels.

boyfriend!jisung who had you stay over his place so he could make you breakfast the next morning accompanied by flowers and a little card he handmade asking you to be his girlfriend.

boyfriend!jisung who doesn't get it at first when you say people won't believe that someone like him wants someone like you.

boyfriend!jisung who took the time to understand your feelings, reassuring you as much as you needed that it didn't matter what anyone else thought. You're the most beautiful woman in the world to him. How could he not want you?

boyfriend!jisung who praises your body every chance he gets. When you take him shopping with you he can't resist telling you how nicely that sundress suits your figure or how cute those pants make your butt look.

boyfriend!jisung who always has to sneak in a few extra minutes with you in bed in the morning so that he can cuddle and squeeze your soft body. You're the reason he's late all the time but it's worth it.

boyfriend!jisung who never makes you feel like you need to be ashamed of your squishy belly, rolls, or chin. If he catches you sulking he'll kiss every part of you until it feels loved.

boyfriend!jisung who's known for being funny but will turn into an absolute demon if anyone ever fucks with you or makes you feel bad.

boyfriend!jisung who checks in with you throughout the day to make sure that you've eaten. On your bad body image days especially he'll either cook or buy you your favorite foods to avoid you skipping meals.

boyfriend!jisung whose camera roll is filled with pictures of you two together along with a bunch of secret ones he's taken when you weren't looking. Some are from angles you'd feel make you look bigger but he's smitten with every picture of you. You'll have to fight him to delete them.

boyfriend!jisung who always lets everyone know that the two of you are together. There's never a question of how proud he is to tell the world you're his.

boyfriend!jisung who'll stop everything to be with you when things get really bad. You can cry in his arms for hours if you want. He'll always be there to comfort you.

boyfriend!jisung who lets himself be vulnerable, opening up to you about his own insecurities because he knows you'll be there to comfort him too. Of course you are.

boyfriend!jisung who may drool over how pretty you are but never takes for granted how kind, funny, creative, and intelligent you are on top of that.

boyfriend!jisung who loves you because, well, you're you.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Prescribed Medicine (+18)

Prescribed Medicine (+18 Law x Reader)

Summary: Law knows you have trauma. He wants to help you look past it. The doctor orders a risky procedure. Will it be successful?

Pairing: Law x afab!reader

WC: 3900 lmao

AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS DNI

TW: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING. This fic hints that the reader has experienced sexual trauma. I understand the delicacies in this matter and have not tried to highlight them any more than necessary for the plot. sex, kissing, pet names, praise, doctor play, vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, begging, crying.

*Get off of me! You’re sick! No!*

“No!” You sat straight up in your bed, chest heaving trying to catch your breath. Sweat dripped down your neck, staining the grey tank top you had on. Another nightmare. You had been having them almost every night lately. Every time you close your eyes you see those men and live through what they did to you over and over again…

—

As a much younger woman, your island was raided by violent pirates and burnt to the ground. During the fire you snuck onto the pirates ship while they pillaged and destroyed your home. You hid in a storeroom and shook while you imagined what they were doing to your friends and family back on the island. You had to save yourself. 

To your dismay, upon discovering you holed up in a broom closet, the pirates took you straight to Sabaody and sold you to the slave auction. A young, beautiful virgin woman fetched a high price. 

You spent the next 5 years as a slave. Being bounced around from master to master, having to do more depraved and violent acts each time. Until one day your life changed forever. Your weak body and mental state had left you a lifeless husk. When you overhead the whispers of your fellow slaves that there was a strong pirate crew liberating the slaves you barely even looked up. It was probably just a rumor. There would be no end to your suffering, this was your life now. 

But they were right! The pirates had handily took out your brutal captors and no less than an hour later, men in white jumpsuits were removing your shackles and cuffs. The other slaves all ran to the docks, cheering, trying to get a ship back to their home islands as fast as possible. You however, just stood there. You were in the middle of the plaza in town, surrounded by bodies… no… not bodies… body parts? The men had been sliced into neat, tidy pieces and littered across the ground. Who could have done this?

“Aren’t you going to run?” A deep voice rumbled from around 20 feet behind you. You whipped your body around, shocked out of your trance. There stood one of the most powerful pirates in the New World, a Warlord of the Seas. 

“Trafalgar Law…” You said more to yourself than anyone else. 

“I didn’t ask you my name, I asked if you were going to run.” He says nonchalantly as he crosses his arms in front of him and leans back. “You’re free. Go.” Law turns on you and starts to walk away when you yelled out. 

“I don’t have anywhere to go. My home was burned. This is all I have.” 

Law stopped in his tracks but didn’t turn towards you. “Hm. And what can you do? Anything useful?”

“I.. I can cook… pretty well actually. My parents owned a bed and breakfast on my home island. I can clean… and I… I can fight too… well.. at least I could…” 

There was a long silence. You could see the gears in his brain turning just by staring at the back of his head. 

“Alright. Let’s go then.”

“What?” You asked, tilting your head. 

“You’re coming with me. Our cook sucks. It’d be nice to have a decent meal after all of this.” Law didn’t turn toward you, just started walking back to his ship. You said nothing. You couldn’t believe that he was inviting you to join his crew.. one of the most powerful pirates to ever live was asking you to join him at sea. But, what choice did you have? You could go with him and risk your life on a journey of piracy and probably die in the process, or you could stay and rot here.

You saw him walk further and further away from you, so you started jogging after him… fully committing to your new life.

—

“Fuck” 

You started to sob. All you could think of was your past, the things that befell you during your time as a slave. You needed to distract yourself. After you wiped your tears and blew your nose, you hopped up out of your bed and pulled on a pair of black joggers over your panties. After pulling the door of your small stateroom aboard the Polar Tang open, you made your way to the kitchen. Trying to slow your heart and catch your breath, you brewed a cup of tea. Sitting at the counter in the galley with your tea, you let your head fall back and eyes close with an exasperated sigh. 

“No sleep for you either?”

Your head shot up and you opened your eyes. 

“God damnit, Law. You have to stop doing that.” You scolded him for having a habit of sneaking up on people. 

“It’s not my fault you have poor hearing and can’t tell when I’m coming.” He smirked at you. Law walked toward the counter and sat down sat the stool next to you. You look up at his grey eyes and they met yours. He was searching for something. He saw that they were bright red and your eyelids are puffy. There was no hiding that you had been crying. You hung your head back down.

“The nightmares… they’re back, huh?” He knew. This wasn’t the first time you’d had periods of night terrors due to your past mistreatment. He could always tell. He rarely slept so he knew when someone else was awake on the sub. Sounds traveled far under the sea. He could hear your wracked sobbing or your feet pacing across your room trying to calm yourself down from a panic attack. His normally unaffected heart couldn’t help but feel for you.

Without an answer from you, he continued. 

“I want you to come to my office tomorrow night. I think… I think I know what treatment you need…” Your head shot back up to meet his eyes when you heard him.

“You mean… you can make them go away? The nightmares?”

“I don’t know, y/n, but don’t you want to at least try?”

You nodded. 

“Good. Go back to your room. Try and get some rest.”

Law stood up and walked out of the galley. You finished your tea and stared at the empty mug. What did he mean? What kind of treatment? It had been a year of sailing together now and he hasn’t offered any sort of procedure or medication so far. Why now? 

—

It was 9:55 PM the next evening and you were checking yourself in the mirror before you were going to head down to Law’s office/surgical room. After smoothing out your hair and your off-white jumpsuit, you left your stateroom and walked nervously down the narrow hallway towards your captains office. Upon reaching his door you stood still starting at the doorknob, unable to move your body another inch. 

“Come in, y/n” Law said as the doorknob turned and the door creaked open. Fucking haki. 

You gingerly walked into the office. It had been so long since you had been here… His tall bookcases so unorganized with some books facing the wrong way outward. It smelled like him… a musky, mysterious scent. Law was hunched over at his desk, going over some maps of the New World. 

“I’m glad you could make it. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for awhile.” He says as he rolls up the maps and moves towards his bookcase. He’s being so casual about all of this while you’re nervous out of your mind. He hasn’t even looked at you. It’s like you’ve come to him for a band-aid, not a life altering cure. Law grabs a large book off the shelf and brings it back to his desk. He finally looks up at you as he opens it and flips through the pages. 

“Sit.” He nods towards a leather char next to his desk. You oblige.

He settles on a page in the book, which you now realize is a psychiatric textbook.

“Post traumatic stress disorder.”

You stare blankly at the words he’s pointing to in the book. You didn’t know what to say.

“People who have experienced massive, violent trauma often suffer from side effects long term, even years after the event. Effects include night terrors, panic attacks, trouble focusing, and other psychical symptoms… Y/n this is what you have. I am certain. It’s no surprise after what those..” He slams his fist onto his desk next to the textbook. “.. Those fucking monsters did to you. I am so sick and tired of seeing you suffer every day and every night because of what happened.”

He crouches down next to you seated in the chair. He looks directly into your welling eyes.

 "I want to help you. Will you let me? Y/n, do you trust me?”

Tears were threatening to spill over, could he really fix your pain? Did he have that ability? And he would do it… for you?

You nodded. 

“Captain… please help me…”

“Hm.” He nodded his head and stood up. “I need you to go next door into the operating room. Remove your clothes, all of them. Lay on your back on the table. I will be in in a few moments.”

Law left the room. You stood there in shock. You had no idea what was going to happen or what he had up his sleeve. He had essentially just told you that your brain was broken and he was going to fix it. You finally collected yourself and you went towards the door of the operating suite he kept next to his office. You walked into the cold, sterile room. There were machines, surgical instruments, a large operating table… nothing comforting. 

But, not wanting to displease your captain you followed his orders to the Nth degree. You zipped down the front of your jumpsuit and let it slide off your shoulders onto the floor. 

*remove your clothes, all of them* you heard Law in your head. You slipped your sports bra over your head and you pulled your panties down to the floor. Finally fully bare, you hopped up onto the operating table and laid down on your back. You expected there to be some sort of blanket to cover your body with, he was a doctor, wasn’t he? But there was nothing. You were completely nude staring up at the fluorescent lights. 

The doorknob turned and your head instinctively snapped in its direction. Law came in wearing gloves and a white coat. 

“Y/n… literature suggests that sufferers of post traumatic stress can be aided by turning those negative feelings into positive ones. In a way, replacing the memories of those events with more pleasurable ones.” 

You were confused, but he stared into your eyes and you saw a flash of warmth. He wanted to help you. You gestured for him to continue.

“My plan of treatment is to give your body intense sexual, physical pleasure slowly over time to retrain your brain into associating those things with good memories as opposed to the bad ones.” 

“Intense what-?” You must have misheard him. There’s no way he said what you thought he did. 

“Y/n those horrific cretins took your body from you, I intend to fight to get it back. You deserve your own autonomy. If you trust me, I’d like to begin.” He said as he pulled the metal foot stirrups from the corners of the operating table and folded them up. “Scoot down and place your feet in here and we can get started.” 

You moved down to do as you were told. You hesitantly opened your legs. You knew that it wasn’t pretty. You had experienced such hardships that things weren’t looking as nice as they should. You opened them anyway and slotted your feed up into the cold stirrups. 

Law rolled his stool over to between your legs and sat down. 

“I am going to touch you now, okay? If anything is uncomfortable at any point I need you to say ‘stop.’”

You nodded.

“No, y/n. I need you to tell me you understand.”

“I understand, Captain.” 

Law leaned in and inspected your pubic area. He saw the scars and deep cuts that were left on your inner thighs from those disgusting monsters long ago. He ran his gloved finger over the ones on your right leg. You jolted from his touch, so startled by someone touching you there. You didn’t like it. It reminded you of the last time someone tried touching you there. 

“Law.”

“I can stop. But just breathe for a second.” Law looked at a monitor across from him but behind your head. “Your heart rate is at 124, try thinking of something else. Remember when we landed on that tropical resort island? And Penguin tried taking that girl back to the ship?” 

You chuckled. That was such a nice day. Nothing but sun and pampering yourself. You read your book on a pool float while waiters served you endless margaritas. Law paid for everything of course, happily watching you from a shaded lounge chair. He loved seeing you relaxed. It was hard, due to Penguin and Shachi constantly trying (and failing) to pick up women and Bepo complaining that this was not the correct environment for someone with a fur coat. But Law tuned them all out, seeing you smiling and content floating in the sparkling water… in the tiniest yellow bikini he’d ever seen… You were the only thing on his mind.

“Yeah, Law," You breathed out heavily. "I remember that. It was a fun day.” He continued to slowly stroke up and down your inner thighs, getting you used to having his hands on you. 

“I remember the bathing suit you wore… When you jumped into the pool it bunched up on your ass. I watched you adjust it, and pull your top down.” He laughed softly. “Your tits are incredible. Your whole body, really y/n.”

Law had never spoken to you like this. He found you attractive? He watched you in your swimsuit and thought about your body? You had pined for him for so long, there was no way that he felt the same way. Maybe he was just talking like this to get you more receptive for his treatment… but it was working. 

“You.. you think so?” You stutter out as he gently grazes his right hand over your heat. 

“Of course I do. I’ve always thought that. Such a perfect little thing you are y/n.” Law’s tattooed hand finally moves to rest over your whole mound and pussy.  Your hips buck instinctively. This was nothing like anything you were used to. 

“The procedure is going well. I can see you’re becoming more lubricated. Far more, actually. I am going to touch you here now, y/n.” 

Before you could protest he  takes his pointer and middle finger together to stroke the sides of your now engorged clit up and down. 

“Oh! Law!” You shout and lean up on your elbows. “I… That feels… Oh my god…”

Law takes his fingers and now applies pressure to your bud and rubs it in smooth, tight circles. You feel your lower abdominal muscles tightening and releasing outside of your control. 

“Talk to me y/n. How does this feel?” Law asks, his eyes never leaving your dripping cunt. 

“I.. It feels? Pressure? It feels warm, it feels.. fuck, it feels like so much Law” 

“But good or bad? Does it feel good? Your pussy is leaking all over the operating table. Do you enjoy when I rub you like this? When I treat you like my sweet little girl?” He was so serious. It was like he was taking notes on a mental pad in his brain. 

“YES! Fuck yes, Law, yes this is good I don’t want you to stop.” Your chest was heaving, you had never experienced a sensation like this before. You only knew pain, not pleasure. You felt Law’s other hand ghost over your thigh. 

“Ok y/n I think you’re ready for the second part of the procedure. I am going to insert my fingers into your hole now.” He said it so casually, like he was prescribing you an aspirin. 

Law continued rubbing your clit with one hand as he took his two fingers and slowly pushed them into your sopping wet hole. You gasped and jolted at the intrusion. Your mind started to go a darker place…

“Hey y/n it’s me, I’m right here. Your captain is right here. It’s me. It’s just us, okay? Try to keep your eyes open for me, sweets.”  He felt your muscles tense so he rested the side of his face on your thigh. The scruff of his facial hair brought you back to reality. He was looking up at you to gauge your facial expressions. You looked down at him breathing heavily, he smirked at you from between your legs as he began to crook his fingers up and pull on them. 

“FUCK, Law!” You shouted, forgetting that everyone else on the Polar Tang would hear you. 

“Perfect, that’s perfect. Keep your eyes on mine, sweet. You’re doing so well for me. I am so proud of you, y/n you’re being so good.” He praised your endlessly while his two hands worked your pussy into a soaking mess. 

“Law I’m starting to feel weird…”

“Weird how, describe your symptoms to me.” He was back in doctor mode. 

“Like… Like there’s something in my belly that’s big and swollen. It feels like my skin is hot. It feels like something is going to burst… it feels like I have to pee but I don’t? Law there’s so much pressure, Law, please help me I don’t know what it is! Stop!”

Quickly Law pulls out his fingers and stops his motions on your clit. 

“Room.”

A light blue tinge covers your space. He raises his right hand, tips of his two fingers glistening with your slick. His doctors notepad and a pen come flying into his hands. He furiously takes notes. 

“Hmm… Yes…. Better than expected…”

Your body started to ache. An ache you’ve never experienced before. He flips his pad over and looks through previous notes he had taken. You realize they were all about you and your condition. He had been watching you for awhile. 

“Y/n… have you ever experienced an orgasm?” Law asks after he closes his pad and sets it down. 

You flop backwards on the operating table, unable to look at him with your answer. 

“No. No I haven’t.”

“I see…” Law looks over your sweaty, heaving body. He knew you were frustrated by not achieving release, even if you didn’t know. “I’d like you give that to you. I think it’s what’s best for your treatment. Would you allow me to do that?”

“… how…?” You knew where this was going. 

“I’d like to fuck you, Miss y/l/n.” He smirked down at you from the side of the table. “I believe I can make this all go away soon.”

You were hesitant. 

“Ok…”

“Y/n listen to me.” He grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest and looks into your eyes. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you and I won’t let anyone else hurt you ever again. You’re mine now. I’d kill anyone for you.” He was confessing. This wasn’t about your treatment anymore. He let his feelings take over. It as no longer doctor/patient. It was no longer captain/crewmate. This was 2 lovers. 

You were nervous, but you trusted him. You brought your hand that was still held in his up to his cheek. 

“Fuck me, Law. Make love to me. Fix me.” 

He stripped his white coat and gloves first. Yellow baseball tee and hat went next. After he was out of his jeans and boxers, your mouth was agape at the size and girth of his hard cock. Clearly the “procedure” was affecting him just as much as it was you. He hopped up on top of you on the operating table swiftly. He locked eyes with you before he brought his face down to give you a soft, yet fully passionate kiss. Your lips moved together slowly, you moaned softly into his mouth.

Going back into doctor mode, Law looks down between you and grabs his cock to line it up with your hole. 

“I am going to push inside of you now, y/n. Tell me if there’s any discomfort.” 

He presses the weeping tip of his massive dick into your pulsing warm hole. You begin to get stretched out and instinctively slam your eyes shut. 

“Hey, hey. No. With me.”

Law holds your cheeks with the hand that wasn’t holding himself up on top of you. 

“I need you to know you’re here with me. No one else. Just us.” His breath was ragged, now that’s fully pressed  inside of you his calm demeanor seems to dissolve.  You open your eyes and look up at him.

“That’s my girl… that’s my good girl…” He coos to you looking into your eyes as he starts thrusting. He lets go of your face as he lifts your hip upwards onto his strong thighs. His cock was pressing hard into a spot inside of yourself you didn’t know existed until 40 minutes ago. 

“Law! It’s there! It’s right there! Please don’t stop!” You shrieked at him, no longer knowing yourself. That strange “weird” feeling starting to come back in your belly but it was coming on much faster than last time. 

“Law wait I feel it again…”  You push your hands on his shoulders.

“That’s you about to cum, sweets. I promise it will feel so good. Don’t fight it anymore y/n. I want you to cum on my cock. It’s going to feel so good. It’s totally normal and healthy. Let it go. Do you trust me?” He punctuated his sentences with strong grinds against your spot. 

You did trust him. You’d do anything for him. He was your captain, and now your lover. 

“Law I-“ You moaned out louder than you ever have. Your vision went blurry and your body lurched forward as your muscles spasmed. Your cunt tingled and squeezed without your permission. You could barely breathe it felt so incredible. 

“Such a good job you did, y/n. You did so perfect. You’re the perfect patient. You’re the perfect girl for me. I want you forever, y/n. Oh sweets I’m going to cum-“ Law let out a strained groan as he pushed his hips into yours as far as they would go. You felt his cock pulse within you, pushing out his hot seed. 

His head lolled forward after your pussy was finished milking his cock. He kissed your lips gently before pulling out of you. Your brain was hazy and foggy. Law was saying something to you but you were so relaxed that you felt yourself drifting into sleep already. He carried you bridal style, fully nude back to his captains suite. You fell asleep immediately in his strong, tattooed arms. 

—

You woke up after an uninterrupted 12 hour of sleep. You couldn’t even recall the last time you got more than 2 without having nightmare. But when you woke up, Law’s bed was empty other than you. Had he regretted helping you? Changing your relationship forever? You brain ran a mile a minute before Law walked in with a tray from the galley holding a few pieces of toast, a glass of water and a little white pill.  He smiled at you. 

“I’d say your procedure was a success.”

He set the tray down in front of you. 

“You should drink a lot of water today. You lost a lot of fluids last night.” He smirked to himself at his dirty implication. 

“What’s with the meds?” You gestured at your tray. 

“There’s enough crazy pirates out here in the New World. Let’s not add one more.”

You laughed, realizing what it was. You swallowed the pill with your water and took a bite of the toast. Law added,

“Not now… at least…” 

[bidisasterevankinard]

Tease tidbit Tuesday

I was tagged by @perfectlysunny02 💙

ok, so I should write other fics but this angst idea was born. meet titled(wtf?) fic "He's your forever (sometimes I wish it was me)", where Eddie pines over pregnant Buck who's happily dates Tommy and expects their baby (don't worry Eddie'll be happy eventually too)(More likely this fic is one of the part of mpreg series I plan)

Buck cooks the breakfast in crop top, and Eddie can't stop his eyes and mind wander to the little bump he's showing off with his choice of clothes. Tommy and Chris are still sleeping, so Eddie lets himself this moment of weakness when he knows no one will see him. He doesn't want anyone to catch him ogling his best friend's pregnant body, and precious little bump, that he's sure he can hold in his palm and it will fit pretty snugly. He doesn't need anyone to ask him why he's looking so fiercely. He definitely doesn't want to lie because he knows he won't convince anyone. But the truth is something Eddie will take to the grave with him.

No one will ever find out that he wishes he was staying in his kitchen with pregnant Buck and only Chris still sleeping in the house. No one will ever know he wishes Tommy wasn't so good for Buck and Buck is so in love with him. No one will ever judge him that even though he's incredibly happy for Buck and Tommy and excited to meet his godkid, he wishes it was not baby Kinard, but baby Diaz Buck growing with his body.

But it's not. 

"Can you start setting the table and then wake boys?" Buck asks, not taking his attention from pancakes and Eddie hums in affirmation, readily taking the chance to stop being so miserable pining over a man who was never his. Especially not in the house Buck and Tommy just moved together right before sharing happy news about how soon their family will grow.

"Morning," Tommy's hoarse voice cuts the silence of the kitchen, and Eddie nods and fakes a smile to his friend before Tommy gets all his attention to Buck, kissing him as if he's the most precious thing he has ever seen. He puts his hand on Buck's belly, whispering something to the man. Eddie feels sick how perfectly the bump and Tommy’s palm go together. As puzzle pieces.

Buck smiles and kisses Tommy again, "don't worry, our baby was pretty kind to me tonight. Barely any nausea."

Nodding with a smile, Tommy kisses his birthmark and hugs Buck's waist. Humming the song Eddie doesn't know, Tommy sways them a little as an impromptu slow dance. It makes Buck smile so brightly Eddie wishes he had ever seen that smile at him. He never did. It's Tommy's smiles. His boyfriend puts it on Buck's face. Not him. It never belonged to him. As Buck never did.

Taking deep breaths in and out, Eddie quickly puts the last plate and almost runs to the guest room. He needs a moment to get himself together and trying to get a grumpy sassy teen to wake up is a good way to forget how the man he loves so much has a beautiful morning with his boyfriend. Not with him.

Eddie hears pieces of their conversation coming from the kitchen. He hears talking about possible nursery colors and what renovations they need to do. He hears Buck saying the date and time of his next appointment with OB and Tommy’s the most gentle voice promises to be here for Buck and their baby.

He shakes his head and runs to the bathroom. He needs cold water. He needs some time for himself. To think only about good. About how happy his friends are. Reprimanding himself for being awful to their happiness, Eddie enters the room where Chris still snores peacefully, not knowing what a battle his dad has in his heart.

Np tagging @bewilderedbuckley @wikiangela @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @devirnis @bigfootsmom @bi-buckrights @queerbuck @queerdiaz @watchyourbuck @evanbi-ckley @repressedqueen @racerchix21 @kinrdevan @theotherbuckley @theweewooshow @thatmexisaurusrex @powersuitup @pirrusstuff @saybiwithme @diazheartsbuckley @monsterrae1 @cal-daisies-and-briars @bekkachaos @lavenderleahy @leashybebes and anyone who wants to

[blughxreader]

hi! i dont think i can ever get enough of yan! platonic! Batfam 🥲 can i get a neglected reader who has successfully escaped, only to come back to gotham by some unprecedented causes a few years later? i have plans to write a fic like this and want some inspiration (and to fill the yandere batfam tag)

Platonic Yandere!Bruce, Dick, Jason with a darling who escaped and returned to Gotham

Headcanons, WC: 1,048

Notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! This ask is five months old lol. I had to cut out the baby boys to finish </3 If I can come up with ideas for Damian and Tim then I'll add to it.

Bruce

The weight of Bruce’s mistakes hangs over his head every day, but his mistakes with you are by-far the heaviest.

He should have appreciated you more. He should have told you what you meant to him. Instead, he let you feel invisible. It kills him.

When you’re spotted in Gotham years later, he can hardly believe it.

He’ll drop everything and go straight to you, deploying all the boys to ensure you don’t slip away. If it’s daytime, Bruce Wayne will make a rare appearance and corner you with paparazzi, and if it’s nighttime, then Batman will swipe you off the streets before you can cry out.

He’ll forgive every outburst you give. You’re furious and he understands—he considers your anger entirely his fault so he’ll give you a lot of slack.

Bruce will drown you in gifts. Because Batman takes up so much time (and it was lack of attention that drove you away in the first place) he’ll try every means at demonstrating his love. Gifts, vacation homes, front row seats to events (with strict supervision).

This version of Bruce would keep you under 50 cameras and a body guard at all times, but he’s also very conscious of your mental health. Where he’d be able to guiltlessly lock you up forever if he hasn’t neglected you, he can’t in this timeline. Your life would be heavily supervised, but you’d also get a lot of perks.

He would make a routine with you.

Every morning, he’d eat breakfast with you, and every Friday would be a special dinner with just the two of you. His hours are valuable so it means a lot for him to carve out the time just for you.

Dick Grayson

Dick prides himself on his strong leadership and generosity. Ask anyone whose ever met Dick to describe him, and they could list pages of positive traits. So it's a wonder how you, his precious little darling, managed to be overlooked by him.

Guilt literally eats him alive. Dick begins to second-guess every interaction with you, going over all clues he might have missed. He throws himself into the investigation looking for you, investigating every single fact you've ever mentioned about yourself.

When you finally return, he's dead-set on making up for lost time.

Dick wouldn’t approve of your reasoning for leaving. You should have told him--should have insisted on being heard--instead of leaving. He feels terrible that you were neglected, but he feels worse knowing that you’d rather be thrown to the wolves than seek their help.

It's a steep learning curve for him to realize you're not the lonely child you once were, but instead a bitter, jaded young adult who confides in only themself.

Dick drowns you in attention. He tries forcing your innocence back, not accepting your refusals and anger. You're still so young, and even if the sparkling child-like hope is missing from your eyes, Dick still believes he can make things right.

Family bonding time is a must. He arranges play-time with you and Damian. He insists on Sunday movie nights. He learns how to cook new dishes with you and Alfred. He will keep you busy.

These activities are only a surface solution for a deeper problem. Fundamentally, you've changed, and Dick knows this. He has no idea how to treat you now, so he resorts to what he does know--your childhood he missed out on.

Jason Todd

Jason is particularly torn. He knows what its like to feel abandoned, yet he realized too late that he was the perpetrator.

When you are finally back in the arms of the Batfamily, Jason has no idea what role to take in your life. He sees you turning down the family when they offer love and he doesn't know if his heart could take your rejection.

Jason is stand-offish. Playing the role of "tough older brother" doesn't bode well, so he needs time to rework his philosophy on handling siblings.

Instead, he does your bidding. He would help fix whatever unprecedented reasons that led you to return to Gotham, no questions asked. If you need to pass a letter on to a friend, Jason is your guy. His regular possessive yandere tendencies are hampered by his guilt, so he'll be very lenient with you as long as it's nothing dangerous.

The fact that you escape and survived by yourself cast you into a new light in Jason’s eyes. He thinks you’re impressive, dependable, capable. He wonders how he didn’t see it sooner.

That being said—you’re his little sibling. You shouldn’t have to be so strong, and Jason wants to ensure you’ll never have another reason to protect yourself.

He hopes that over time, you'll trust him. He wants to be able to sit with you and talk about whatever is on your mind, to be able to hug you as he leaves for work, and to send you off to bed when it's late.

But right now, you need space. He'll let you heal, and he'll take whatever anger you give him. Because he knows that this is the only way you'll let him into your life again.

Bonus: Y/N

Considering Y/N was clever enough to escape the Waynes while also having the willpower to return to Gotham shows that they’re intelligent, good-hearted, and forged from steel.

They probably rank somewhere between lawful-good to chaotic-neutral. (A lawful-neutral would be infuriated by the Waynes’ underhanded tactics, and probably wouldn’t return to Gotham.)

Y/N is done yearning for attention (or, if they were originally kidnapped, done with playing nice), so they’re immune to the Batfam’s manipulation.

Upon first glance at the Batfam after all those years, they’d immediately go fight or flight. Y/N would pull every dirty trick in the book to escape, and would be as hateful as possible to kill any affection they have for them.

After being kidnapped, Y/N gets very good at playing mind games and deflecting their submission tactics. They’d be able to manipulate the household like a giant game of chess.

Y/N’s only weakness is the child inside of them that still cries for their family’s approval.

The conflict revolves around how the Batfam can extort this weakness vs. how well Y/N can stay true to their values.

[dc418writes]

I love the story "No Way Home" I've never done a request before but what is a day in the life like for reader and Ari now that she's staying with the two murderers?

Forever Home🌼

✨Pairing✨: serialkiller!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader (ft. Robert Freezy)

Summary🪄: A day in the life of you in your new home

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS, mentions of murder, manipulation, softdark!Ari, mention of protected and unprotected happy adult fun times (you’ll see), slight breeding kink, language, hint of Stockholm syndrome by technicality

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

A/N🎤: firstly, sorry for how long it’s taken me to write this😓 life and work have been jumping me heavy lately which has unfortunately made the desire to write very low, BUT I FINALLY GOT A BREAK FROM THAT🤗!

Second, I’m honored to be your first ask and am so happy to hear you love “No Way Home”!! So to answer your question, I technically have two answers

For the first few months, Sugar (that’s Ari’s nickname for reader so that’s what we’ll refer to her as) mostly stays in her - well, unknowingly Ari’s - room not really interacting with anyone

She’s still dealing with the sense of guilt from Brittany’s capture and death, plus mourning the life she once knew

Just as he promised though, Ari is there checking on her day and night. Bringing her food, water, or anything else she might need

*whenever he finds her asleep, he even makes sure to cover her with a blanket so she’s not too cold. As you could probably guess, it makes Robert sick

The first couple of days, she barely touched her meals though. Just sitting or lying in bed while the food stayed untouched exactly where Ari left it on the bedside table

Robert couldn’t care less about it (it’d mean more food for him anyway), while Ari silently worried

“You gotta eat something sugar,” he gently tried to coax the next time he brought breakfast. The steaming bowl of oatmeal making her stomach gurgle from the cinnamon and sugar caressing her nose. “Cmon eat something for me. Please?”

Maybe it was the hunger that finally got the best of her. Or it could’ve been Ari’s deep yet soothing rasp paired with his caring gaze. Either way, a small smile was curling along his pink lips when his sugar took a bite from the spoon he held near her mouth.

“Good girl.”

From then on, sugar slowly began to talk more when Ari would visit. When she finally flashed him a small smile, it’s as if he could physically feel his heart expand

And when she dared journey downstairs? Her little patter of footsteps walking up behind Ari to say a sweet yet quiet, “Good morning.”?! He was like a child on Christmas his smile was so bright

Her own cheeks heated at the sight. Secretly, and a little shamefully, loving the slight tilt to it

Now when she gets completely comfortable, a typical day starts with sugar making breakfast for everyone. Ari stealing loving glances as he “reads” the paper. Robert usually comes back from his shift at the gas station just as the food hits the table

“This looks good sweetheart, but you know you don’t have to cook every day,” Ari says pulling out her seat - next to him as per usual.

“Well, I figured I should contribute somehow,” she shyly shrugs. “I don’t wanna just eat your food and take up space.”

“Yet that’s exactly what’s happening,” Robert grumbles. Ari’s quick to kick his shin under the table making him yelp in pain; clearly disapproving his attitude

“Don’t listen to him. This is your home now.”

After everyone’s done, she moves towards the sink to wash the dishes but Ari instructs Robert - or Bobby as he and only he can call him - to do it instead. “You’ve done enough. Rest,” Ari winks before he’s soon off to start his shift.

In the meantime, she’ll clean around the house, wash clothes, and even read something either from the collection on the bookshelf in the living room or a book Ari happens to “find” here and there

And although she’s been warned to not stay out too long, she’ll sneak off and visit Ari for a while.

“Bobby know you’re out here Sugar?,” Ari asks with a warning tilt to his brow and a sternness to his tone. Both know it doesn’t mean anything though.

“No. But I think we both know he prefers me gone anyway.”

Gently, his firm hands are gripping her sides to lift her on the counter next to the register. His fingertips brushing along her cheek before adjusting her glasses.

“He still wants you to be careful,” he responds meeting her deep brown eyes in such a gaze that it’s difficult for her to breathe let alone hear what he says. “I do too.”

They talk and laugh not caring of the time that passed. He’d even have her favorite snack waiting - gummy bears.

Sometimes those innocent visits became a little more from his wandering hands. “You’re too cute you know that?”, he’d whisper slowly dragging his fingers along her thighs higher and higher until her lips were parting with a small gasp as he made contact with her panties growing stickier by the minute.

Her mind already beginning to feel hazy as his thick index finger traced along her slit

“Can’t believe I get to call you all mine.”

She never corrected him on that last one. Instead feeling her cheeks heat - along with other parts that would make her squirm.

One day she was bold enough to tell Ari of those tingles he so easily produced in her. So giddy and light from his sweet pecks along her jaw that the words slipped before she could stop them. His eyes seemed to darken at that confession letting his large hands creep to her hips. “Yea tingles feel funny but good huh? I know all about those.”

That’s how things became more intimate. One sneaking to the other for a quickie needing to feel each other as close as possible. Trying to be extra quiet while Robert slept in his room down the hall.

Sugar had never experienced a more difficult task with Ari pushing and pulling in and out at the most addicting pace while his mouth left open mouth kisses along her chest. Knowing just how much force to use that had her eyes rolling back. Not to mention the sinful words tumbling from his lips.

“Shit..so tight you make me wanna stay forever sugar.”

“Cmon let go for me, can feel you right there. Mm that’s it, good girl.”

The only thing was those damn condoms she made him wear.

“I-I just wanna be safe,” she shyly announced halting his nibbles along her neck.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he smiled, truly smitten by his sugar and her adorable nervousness. “No need to worry. I completely agree.”

As he watched her sleep after their late night rounds, he couldn’t help but let his callused fingers trace along her abdomen. His mind perfectly picturing it round with his baby inside. The perfect combination of their gorgeous mama and strikingly handsome papa

“One day,” he thinks eventually drifting off himself. For his sugar’s sake, he’ll play safe for now. Hopefully sooner rather than later though, that dream of his will become reality

His lineage able to prosper and flourish as the ancestors intended.

[gabessquishytum]

I'm on something of a mob run right now,,,sorry 😉😝

Hob is the live-in chef for mob boss Dream; and during a home invasion attempt on Dream and bb!Orpheus's lives, Hob protects them with extreme skill..... he might have killed at least one guy with an appetizer.

👊🏽

Hob used to be a hitter - he could (still can) take down a room of guys without breaking a sweat. But he got tired of the fists, knives and gun life, he wanted to use his hands for good, nurturing things, so he cooks now.

Granted working for a high profile mobster isn't safe, but that just means that Hob can handle himself if stuff goes down. Besides, when he needed a cooking job Death found him this one, and he owed her - so working for her grieving baby brother squares them and is easy enough.

Morpheus Endless has it rough, so Hob can understand how feeding himself is low on his priority list - he's on essentially a forced paternity leave (from the mob. He lost the mother of his infant son in child birth and he can't really trust anyone else to take care of him. (There have been some rumblings that someone might be out to get him.)

So Hob cooks for him and as they are getting to know one another, Hob helps with cutie little Orpheus.

Hob doesn’t think much of it when Jessamy and Mathew both have tasks that remove them from the house and property (he packs them their preferred breakfast sandwich and waves them off); he's busy prepping and planning dinner so initially misses when the guard shift change doesn’t happened; but he notices the sounds of gunshots too close to the front of the house to be anything but purposeful. He gets upstairs and pushes Dream and Orpheus into the panic room then goes back down to see what's going on.

He will protect his new friend, and family, and if unfortunately, dinner is a little late because that pan of hot oil was used to fry a face instead of french fries.....that's on the idiots who broke into Hob's kitchen.

Love this!!! It definitely gives me vibes for a slice of life story where ex-enforcer Hob uses his renowned skill with knives to cut veggies instead of bodies. Along the way he naturally falls in love with his new boss and the absolutely adorable lil Orpheus, who loves sitting on the counter and watching Hob making yummy food.

Just imagine Hob in his frilly apron with his hair tied up in a bun, maybe with a hairnet (he takes food standards seriously). He's got one of his massive knives that wouldn't look out of place in a butchery. He's poured grease onto the floor so the attackers have all slipped on their butts, and one of them has a massive black eye already forming because Hob threw a whole rotisserie chicken at them then followed it up with a dozen baking potatoes. Jessamy and Matthew are already speeding back to the residence, but Hob doesnt really need the help. He's warned the home invaders that he doesn't want to waste his nice sharp knives on them, but he will.

The story of how Mr Hob killed a man with a potato becomes Orpheus's favourite bedtime story from then on (Dream added a few embellishments, the guy didn't actually die). And Hob is well rewarded for his loyalty to his new family - at a candlelit dinner after all the mess has been cleaned up, Dream kisses his chef in shining armour, and politely asks him to stay. Forever.

[scoops-aboy86]

Southern Hospitality

Prompt Used: aftercare (@steddiesmuttyseptember) and and fluff (@softsteddieseptember) | Southern Hospitality | Rating: M | CW: weight gain, belly kink, stuffing kink, belly play | Additional Tags: chubby steve harrington, fat steve harrington, feeder eddie munson, alcohol, referenced spanking, masturbation, food as a love language, hedonism, steve harrington has bad parents, brief nancy being tactless

Steve’s parents make an implied appearance here, but not enough to fully tag for. He probably shouldn’t have driven home but no way was he staying overnight with them, so sorry for the suggested driving home intoxicated. 

The fluff is in how Steve feels instantly better when he gets home, even though Eddie is asleep. 🥰 

Also this was first inspired by an ask that I’ll post in a minute and link here. Thank you September challenges for giving me the kick to work on this again!

It’s not that Steve didn’t know Eddie knew how to cook before they’d moved in together. He just hadn’t realized the sheer scale—or he’d thought Eddie didn’t realize, at first. That the whole “It’s bad luck to have leftovers, Stevie” was a smooth redirect to encouraging him to enjoy more, savor everything, again and again. Eddie is phenomenal in the kitchen so it’s not like it’s a hardship or anything. 

Maybe it’s a little bit that Steve is still smarting from Robin moving clear across the world for school, abandoning him. Far be it from him to actually voice any of those feelings… He’d just thought they were forever, you know? Platonic soulmates, attached at the hip for life. A bond that even some super cool P.h.D program in Europe couldn’t come between. She’d never asked him to come along, not even as a joke. But he’s not�� He wouldn’t say that he’s hurt, it’s not her fault that he has a life and a boyfriend here tying him down. He just misses her like a lost limb is all. 

Maybe it’s because when Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle had swung through Indy for a visit, and Nancy had eyed him up and down saying, “You’ve, um, grown!” Which Jonathan had elbowed her for, and Eddie hadn’t even heard because he’d been in the other room getting everybody drinks. Argyle might not have even been paying attention because he’d immediately asked if anyone wanted some Purple Palm Tree Delight—which, to be fair, had soothed Steve’s ruffled feathers immensely. He might’ve better if Robin had been there too,  agreeing wordlessly with him that sure, maybe he has put on some weight, but that’s because he’s finally able to sleep through the night again and can stomach three homemade meals a day instead of being hung up on Upside Down trauma all the time. The trusty old nailbat that used to live in the trunk of his car, or sometimes under his bed, has been retired to a cobwebby corner of the garage. Why can’t Nancy just be glad for how far he’s come?

(She is, Steve knows. It was just a blip, though a prime example of why they probably wouldn’t have worked out even without all the Upside Down crap. And Nancy hadn’t apologized—for that, or anything else really but that’s water under the bridge—but she’d at least let it go. Which is a lot, for Nancy Wheeler, Investigative Journalist.)

Anyway, that had just been one night. One night, when every day Steve has Eddie. Wonderful Eddie who always kisses him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Who makes him breakfast, lunch, and dinner so he doesn’t have to worry about it, and doesn’t shy away from the unhealthy but delicious side of Southern cuisine. They have chicken and waffles once a week, with Steve absolutely soaking his in syrup. And the desserts—holy fucking christ, Eddie has so many recipes and they’re all stored seemingly endlessly in his brain, every one of them a winner. 

Whatever the reason, either the little stings or the healing balm of things going wonderfully in his relationship, Steve hasn’t bothered to note the signs. Overall, everything is fine. Why worry about anything when he’s so happy?

The sex they have after especially heavy meals have become Steve’s favorite; the kind where he’s left so full he almost doesn’t want to, could just as easily take a nap instead, but Eddie takes the time to tease him until he’s squirming, whining for it. Sometimes Steve plays up his reluctance a bit just to stretch things out even further, the thrum of anticipation in his veins and taste of good food and Eddie on his tongue. Sometimes he could swear that Eddie has extra hands because of the way he’s so comprehensively everywhere—buoying him up, holding him down, introducing him to pleasure after pleasure until Steve is spilling over with it and yet somehow Eddie still catches him, all of him. 

Though it’s funny… for someone who thinks leftovers are bad luck, Eddie always seems to prepare way too much food for two people. Steve has never been one to turn down a home cooked meal when he can get it so he always gamely does his best. It’s not like Eddie ever makes a big deal if he can’t finish, just sympathetically rubs his overtaxed stomach whenever he admits to being too full. 

And willingly hands him anything he changes his mind about if the rubbing soothes his burbling tummy enough. 

So yeah. Steve knows he’s gained some weight, but it doesn’t bother him. He’s happy, he’s healthy, and putting a relative value on his waistline would just be an exercise in manufacturing stress. He’s had enough of that shit to last a lifetime. 

The denial about just how much weight he’s gained lasts right up until a particularly long evening at his parents’ house. It’s one of those ‘social gathering’ things they like to do, basically a dinner party without calling it that. Steve only goes because there’s one last matter of his inheritance that he needs to clear up with his dad before he can basically cut ties with them indefinitely; he’s not there for the collection of eligible young ladies his mother has invited for the occasion, after all, and hadn’t even bothered passing along the half-hearted invitation to bring his ‘roommate’ along. Eddie hates these things almost as much as Steve, and has an early shift at the garage tomorrow anyway. 

The food is crap. He doesn’t bother telling his mom to fire the caterer, just drinks too much and goes home hungry despite making quick work of quite a few trays just for something to do between his lines in the mind-numbing small talk. Thinks he might’ve been rude to some of those poor girls whose only real fault was not being Eddie, but, oh well. At least now they won’t try to call. 

On the drive back to his and Eddie’s apartment, he cranks the windows and leaves them open the whole way in an attempt to sober up. It kind of works. 

~

Steve finally gets home around three in the morning, shuffling into the apartment, stripping out of his stupid formal clothes piece by piece and step by step as soon as the door shuts behind him. It’s expensive fabric, and it’ll wrinkle being thrown around like that—he doesn’t care. Had distantly registered hours ago that the suit was a little tight, even though he could’ve sworn the tailor at the dry cleaners had taken it out enough just last week. But, again, Steve doesn’t care. He’s distracted. 

His stomach is growling. He's down to nothing but his briefs and socks and he needs real food, not puff pastry appetizers with more air than filling or weird under-seasoned crap piled onto limp endives. Eddie is long asleep, but if he’s quiet…

Yes, jackpot. Steve leans into the glow spilling out the refrigerator door, scanning hungrily over the stacked Tupperware containers labeled with Eddie’s swooping, spidery handwriting and grins. Bad luck my ass. This is the best thing that’s happened to him all night. 

The only thing he bothers to put in the microwave is the gravy boat. Eddie’s gravy is so good hot he could literally drink it—can and has and will again—but the rest is good regardless of temperature. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself as he pulls a stack of containers out and starts popping lids. Pancakes and bacon and breakfast sausages from that morning, too eager to bother finding a fork and instead just popping each bite straight into his mouth with his fingers. Chicken salad from lunch, which he piles up between hefty slices of homemade bread and eats with one hand while fisting a beer in the other, eager to wash the taste of offensively expensive whiskey from the back of his tongue. Bite, swig, bite, swig, bite, swig… until he finishes the can with a muffled belch, crams the last bit of sandwich in his mouth, and sets himself back up with another of both. He can’t help it, Eddie’s food is so good, almost an acceptable substitute for the man’s presence. 

Almost. But Steve doesn’t want to wake him when he has an early day, so he’ll take what he can get. 

The microwave beeps, and the chicken salad is all gone so Steve redirects himself to fried chicken and gravy. Still not bothering with silverware, he dunks each piece straight into the boat and keeps having to lap up the gravy that drips down his fingers, his wrists, his arms. Wipes it from his face with the back of his hand and licks that up too with a little moan. Another beer, another few belches, and he has plenty of room left to empty the entire large container out. So fucking good—his tastebuds tingling, he barely takes the time to breathe between shoving more greedily past his lips. Steve loves leftovers actually, because they’re like bonus food. You don’t have to order it, or make it, or do anything other than get and eat. It’s perfect. Maybe that’s why Eddie always makes sure they have some after all, because he knows how much his sweetheart enjoys the extras at times like this. Eddie takes such good care of him…

Such good care, in fact, that behind all the Tupperware there is a pristine and exquisitely frosted cake. German chocolate, Steve’s favorite. His mouth waters, but. He’s not quite ready for dessert. 

First, he guzzles down the last of the gravy. It goes down thick and heavy, leaving him panting when he finishes and pleasantly aware of that heaviness in his stomach. The perfect antidote to a stuffy evening surrounded by pretentious assholes, he thinks, already feeling warm and hazy with the comfort of being full. And right back to the far side of tipsy now. 

Now it’s time for cake. He really doesn’t intend to eat the whole thing… He’s finally starting to approach his limit, for one thing. It’s better, easier to eat dressed down like this, because any of his pants would be digging into his middle by now. That happens enough lately that he’s kind of getting used to it, kind of uses it to gauge whether he should stop—but tonight he has no desire to even touch the brakes, not now that he’s gotten going. Not when it’s a delicious overload in all the best ways, even down to the smears of achingly sweet frosting and perfectly moist chocolate cake around his mouth as he works his way through slice after slice. 

Halfway through (not that he’s keeping track), he pauses to get the milk out of the fridge too. Instead of pouring a glass he puts the cardboard spout to his messy lips and pours it straight down his throat in sloppy gulps, desperate to wash it all down so he can fit more. More, because it’s all so good and his full stomach feels good and this has been practically all he could think about all through that stupid party that wasn’t called a party and celebrated nothing. None of those people know how to fucking live. 

And yeah, Steve is also vaguely aware that his belly juts out and sags over the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down in front. He knows he’s reaching the point of overfull where he has to stand differently, big round gut moving as a unit with every breath because it’s packed so tight. He leans back against the counter and finds it bumping into the softness of his back sooner than he expected. His entire midsection hangs, and he keeps absently touching it, smearing chocolate where it juts out at top as he tries to coax more burps out. He’s hit that wall where it’s kind of a slog to keep going, an endeavor, a challenge; he keeps going. Ironically, following the same competitive urges that had made him a decently successful high school athlete. 

Because he’s hungry all the time now, even when he’s full. Doesn’t give it too much thought that his belly has taken over for his brain: there’s food, he wants it, he’s eating it. Loves the flavors and textures, the act of chewing and swallowing, having something in his mouth at any opportunity. 

And then, finally, he reaches for more cake and finds only crumbs and frosting that he scrapes off the platter with still-greedy fingers. Grabs the partly empty milk container, a whole goddamn gallon, and goes to work gulping it down. Feels it settling into the last of the gaps and his tired knees go weak; he slides down the kitchen cabinets to plop heavily on the floor while he finishes. 

Or, almost. There’s still maybe a cup or so left when he finally throws in the towel, because he can taste it in the back of his throat with every strained swallow. 

Steve’s head lolls back, finally sated and bloated from all that dairy, his skin hot and stretched and thrumbing. He gingerly feels over the top of his belly and it’s tight, no give at all. But the rest of him…

Okay. Maybe he’s put on more than just a little weight. His belly rounds out before him so far that he can’t see his own lap, and as firm as it is on top it’s soft on the bottom, teardropping between his meaty thighs to kiss the cool linoleum floor. He slips a hand underneath and lifts, testing; drags his palm over the more-than-just-a-spare-tire spilling over his underwear and bulging out over the sides until his hand passes the widest point and it drops free with a jiggle that affects almost every part of him. Gives it a slap, to more jiggles and a bitten-off groan because it jars his stomach, but not in a bad way. Like when Eddie spanks him, something Steve sometimes has to go out of his way being bratty in order to earn, and there’s pain but following it is a warm rush that makes his jaw drop and cock twitch. 

Like it’s doing now, and Steve realizes suddenly that he can’t reach it. His big, wide, doughy belly is in the way, too stuffed for him to comfortably manhandle out of the way. Too heavy to lug his weight off the floor. Too glutted to care, even as he rocks into the hang of his own fat, pressing wherever he finds provides a little extra pressure against his weak grinding. The fabric of his briefs, he realizes, is wet through with how much he’s leaking, as if his full stomach is pressing directly on the pleasure centers of his brain, a satisfaction so complete that it’s already got him halfway to the edge. 

And that’s how Eddie finds him, smeared with the evidence of his late-night-early-morning snack and breathing so heavily he’s practically moaning. Lazily humping his fat—because he is, Steve’s gotten fat and it feels so fucking good. He’d ignored all the signs because he hadn’t wanted to slow down. Still doesn’t want to, not ever. Indulging feels too amazing. 

Eddie finds him just in time to catch the finale, all of Steve shaking and quivering as he reaches his peak. Comes so hard in his briefs that it seeps between his thighs where they try to rub together on one final, savoring squirm. Bows forward a bit, but hiccups weakly between shallow gasps and sags back against the cabinets when it puts too much pressure on his distended gut. Heaving to catch his breath, blasted out of his mind on pleasure, floating but so decadently heavy at the same time. 

When Eddie comes to him, kneeling down and cupping his pudgy, chocolate-smeared cheek in one hand, Steve can’t even process what he’s saying. It’s like the adults in Charlie Brown, all wah-wah-wah or whatever. Instead of trying to make sense of it, he turns his head slightly and mouths at his boyfriend’s thumb. He sucks the whole thing into his mouth as soon as Eddie lets him and immediately wants more. 

He always wants more these days. It’s like he can’t stop. Even though he knows Eddie has work in the morning and should be sleeping, feels kinda bad that he must have woken him up, he’s by no means disappointed to see the man. 

“N-need you,” he manages between gasps and hiccups. Each of the latter is like another slap, or maybe a squeeze—something hard and fast, whatever it is, like a spanking but like. An internal one. He’s already twitching, starting to get hard again. 

What he wants is Eddie to fuck him, but there’s no way he’s moving right now. Instead, Eddie pulls himself out of his sweatpants and tucks the front of them behind his balls, lazily fisting his cock at about the level of Steve’s panting mouth. And oh, he thinks, starting to drool a little, even better. He licks his plump lips, groaning at the sweet smears of chocolate that light up his taste buds, then lets his tongue loll out in invitation. 

He’s willing to beg for it if he has to. 

Because Steve has gone beyond wanting—he needs Eddie’s cock. It’s all he can think about as Eddie nudges against his wet tongue, smearing his blushing cockhead until all Steve can taste is  that familiar, musky bitterness. Needs to be filled even more, really unhinge his jaw and let everything Eddie cares to give him go straight down his throat just like all the rest. Whines around him when Eddie finally pushes in properly, sucking and licking and nibbling. Grabbing clumsily for Eddie’s hands so he can move them to dig into his hair. It’s already a mess, just like the rest of him. 

A moaning, quivering, empty-headed mess. 

And it feels so good. 

~

Steve comes back to himself some time later, smacking his lips absently and rubbing both hands over his swollen middle with a pleased sigh when he feels clean, recently lotioned skin. His throat feels rough, but no more sore than his jaw. 

He barely remembers Eddie cleaning him up with a series of warm, damp kitchen towels after they finished, murmuring a steady commentary on how flattering it is that Steve likes his food so much. His underwear’s gone, and the dip of the bed beneath his ass is a lot more forgiving and comfortable than the kitchen floor. Fuck, he must’ve been seriously blissed out to not even remember climbing the stairs like this, so stuffed that he aches. 

Working at the mechanic shop has really been paying off for Eddie to get him upstairs in that state, Steve thinks with a pleasant shudder. 

When he lifts his head, he can’t see over his domed, still quivering belly at all and that—

“How come you didn’t tell me I got fat?” Steve asks, slurs a bit, not sure if it’s because of the alcohol in his system or how wholly, blissfully sated he feels. He rubs hands over himself, grabbing and pawing and even slapping a little, transfixed by the idea of achieving perpetual motion, of leaving a handprint somewhere he can’t even see without the help of a mirror. 

Eddie’s hand joins his, a fingertip circling idly around his navel. Little electric jolts of pleasure roll through Steve whenever his boyfriend’s callouses from years of playing guitar rasp against the rim of his increasingly sunken belly button, nudging him towards another hard-on until he’s squirming from something so simple. 

“You really didn’t know?” Eddie murmurs, sounding amused. 

Steve burps, moans, shrugs. “Mm—sort of. Not really. Don’t care, though. Feels good. Your food is the best, Eds, I could eat it all day.”

A Cheshire grin spreads across Eddie’s face, but all he says is, “Thanks, sweetheart.” He doesn’t need to comment on the fact that Steve often does spend all day eating his cooking. That the excesses have started to paint red stretch marks on Steve’s belly and thighs—some of which Steve has found with his fingertips and is stroking, not concerned but definitely curious. 

“It’s like that new thing Robin keeps telling me about,” Steve continues dreamily. (There’s always a new thing for his best friend to talk his ear about whenever she calls, chattering fast to avoid wrecking complete havoc on their phone bill.) “About love languages? Like, how you show it to other people and how you want to hear it back… I think your love language might be food, baby.”

Because he’d come back from his parents’ house starving, and now he’s so blissfully full of his boyfriend’s cooking he’s had two orgasms about it, lazily contemplating a third. So that sounds about right, as metaphors or whatever go. 

“Making it, sure,” Eddie agrees, still teasing his belly button and eliciting the occasional shiver or gassy burp. “What’s yours?”

Steve grins beatifically and shifts to spread his legs, feeling over the lowest curve of his belly. He’s aware now that he’s had it, that he’s been big for a while; doesn’t know how he hadn’t quite realized before tonight, because the way his own body gives and squishes and springs back as he explores his fatness is electrifying, all-encompassing

Tomorrow he’ll track down a scale and see how much he’s gained. Maybe do some clothes shopping before his next shift, size up his wardrobe as needed. Most likely get more groceries. They’ll definitely talk about this: both Steve’s not so little journey of self-discovery tonight and how on board Eddie already is with it. 

For now, because he doesn’t remember the official love languages Robin had told him about, Steve just says, “Pretty sure mine is eating it and then wanting you to fuck my brains out. I know you have to be up early, but—”

Eddie growls deep in his throat, lunging for the lube in the nightstand drawer before shoving Steve’s thick thighs further apart and planting himself in between—exactly where they both want him. 

Permanent tag list (ask to be added/removed): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

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[klausysworld]

can you please write a headcanon of yandere Klaus Mikaelson with a broken reader? Basically Klaus is delighted to find out reader is obedient and does everything he says, then later he realises reader actually gives up on hope and became a former shell of herself with no passion of life or interests.

Decided to write this in more of a one-shot kinda way, hope you don’t mind :) i just think it might work better

I’ve lost it

It had been god knows how long since i was last outside. I couldn’t remember the last time i saw one of my family members. The only interactions i had was with Klaus himself and even them most of them ended in arguments. It was becoming draining.

I was coming to the realisation that i was not going to be getting out. There was no life after my escape and no happy life where i could the busy streets and see what the world has to offer. One time Klaus had offered to show me the world, i wish i had just accepted it instead of being so rude. I should have at least let him down gently but no, and now i was sat amongst takeaway packets because Klaus didn’t have time to cook me anything.

He’s been busier lately, leaving me alone more. It’s hard not to contemplate everything. The lack of physical contact and communication was starting to get to my head.

Klaus hasn’t come to see me in maybe a few days? I couldn’t tell what time it was anymore but i was hungry. I hadn’t moved from my spot in the bed in what felt like a forever.

I couldn’t be bothered to move when i heard the door unlock, i heard footsteps getting closed and i could smell food. Real food, it made my mouth water and i closed my eyes to savour it incase it was a hallucination

“My love…i have breakfast for you” Klaus. Of course, I wasn’t really expecting anyone else. He knelt in front of me but the food wasn’t in his hands making me frown in confusion. His hand came to hold my cheek as he furrowed his brows

“Aren’t you hungry sweetheart?” He asked a little softer. I was starving but I wasn’t sure if it was worth eating anymore.

“Where were you?” i asked, my voice a lot weaker than i had hoped

“I’m sorry, my family, they’re awake and I’ve been trying to find the time to come down here…have you been using the colouring pencils i got for you?” He stood up taking a look around, his eyes saddening

“Those are the same books you had last time i was here, love what have you been doing?” He asked, his arms slipped under my body to pull me into a sitting up position making me groan, i suddenly felt a lot more hungry now i was upright as i looked around for the food. He was quick to sit down next to me with the tray practically shovelling the food into my mouth

“Good girl just keep going” he muttered as he brought some water to my lips

Once i had cleared the plate i found myself leaning into him. As much as i hated him at least he was somewhat alive. He was a real thing and he was here. I could feel the skin of his arms on mine as i shut my eyes and pulled myself into his lap as my fingers curled around his henley. His thumb rubbed circles against my upper arm making my eyes burn with tears, this man was my only comfort and yet he had taken me away from everything i had ever loved.

“Do you feel sick sweetheart?” He asked feeling my forehead with the back of his hand

“Please don’t leave” i whispered clinging to him tightly, turning my body to straddle him, my legs wrapping around him and my arms holding onto his midsection

“Please it’s too quiet” I added with a sniff as a tear ran astray down my face. I felt his hand on the back of my head and i tucked my face under his chin

“I’m not going anywhere my darling, I’m staying with you for as long as i can”

We stayed like that for a while before he lifted me and turned on the shower

“Im just going to sit in the bedroom okay?” He asked as he set the temperature, setting me down onto my feet

“No no you said you wouldn’t leave, stay you gotta stay” i sobbed grabbing onto him, his body tensed before relaxing as I practically climbed him to attache myself to him muttering ‘no’ over and over as he rocked me

“Okay… okay I’ll sit right here yeah? I’ll talk to you through the glass okay? I’m right here” he whispered

He stayed sat against the shower glass the whole time, he spoke about his family and why he was having problems with them. His mother being alive and throwing a ball. He said the ball didn’t go as planned and Kol had his neck snapped.

By the time i was out my mind was clearing over, and I wasn’t as well…crazy.

He brushed my hair and dried it, i didn’t complain or pull away like I usually did. He kept speaking the whole time, sometimes about the past and sometimes the present but never the future. I’m not sure if there even is a future anymore.

I stayed in his lap when he read a book to me, a love story between two normal people who fell for each other over time. They had a child at the end. He told me he thinks there’s a sequel and that he’d find it for me.

He only left me once to get us dinner before hurrying back.

He had been so gentle today, he didn’t yell or raise his voice at all

And so I couldn’t find it within me to push him away when he pressed his lips to mine. His lips were so soft and warm, his hands held my face as he slowly got on top of me. I didn’t protest when his tongue slipped into my mouth, I didn’t shove at him as he groaned into me, I didn’t bother pulling away when his hips rolled to meet mine, when his hand moved to touch my neck, when it trailed down and he rubbed over my breasts through my shirt. I didn’t stop him as he ground down harder his kiss growing hungrier and his hand becoming more bold as it moved between my legs, just cupping my sex through my sleep shorts.

Only when he pulled away did he take in my face, he swallowed thickly as he backed away from me

“Forgive me- i got carried away, I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to” he muttered as he rolled onto his back

“Would you like me to stay for the night?” He asked quietly and i nodded bringing myself closer to him. My arm going over his chest as I snuggled into his side

“Will you be here in the morning?” I asked in a mumble

“Im not sure, i need to sneak back to my room in early enough so that my family think i stayed the night there but I’ll be back a little later for brunch?” He offered

“Yea okay, i understand” i whispered, he squeezed my tighter and pulled the cover up over my shoulders

“I love you sweetheart, so much. Just rest, i will take care of everything” his words blurred as i began to slip into unconsciousness.

The next few days…or weeks i just sort of did whatever he wanted. I did as he asked, sometimes we did some art together, he had also gotten me a typewriter to try and write stories, with all the reading id been doing i had a some creativity. I wasn’t allowed an actual laptop incase i tried to contact anyone.

Things were seeming to be a lot better. But then the realisation set in that this was as good as it was ever going to be. There was nothing that i was going to experience that would be worth living for anymore.

Klaus didn’t notice my detachment though. He was just happy that i was behaving. I never got mad at him or cried. I didn’t push or shove or kick or hit. I kissed back and sometimes i wondered if i could actually love him. But then i sort of realised i didn’t really feel much of anything anymore. I wasn’t mad or upset or disgusted but I wasn’t happy or feeling safe and cared for and loved. And i knew that he was doing it because he loves me and wants to keep me safe but I didn’t really know what was happening anymore.

Sometimes i wondered if it was one big mind fuck and i was in some weird game. Like maybe Klaus wasn’t really an original hybrid right? Like this whole thing is just to see how long it would take for me to crack. Sometimes i found myself looking to see if there were cameras or something watching me, was it a tv show?

That lasted like a week. Im convinced. I’ve lost it.

Klaus sort of grounded me most of the time, made me see and touch someone real and know that i was still some what alive. It was coming to the point where i had to pinch myself to make sure i was still real, i spoke to myself a lot, Klaus had days where he was really busy, he was better at seeing me as often as possible but still he couldn’t always balance me and his other life right?

I’d stopped writing, who’s even going to read them?

I found myself staring at his paintings for so long that i began to hate them. He had so many stupid hidden meanings it was an impossible puzzle.

The majority of my time was spent on the floor, either the carpet or the bathroom tiles if it i wanted a colder surface. Occasionally i pretended i was already dead. I mean what would he do if i were to die? He can’t just bring me back, not without vampire blood and i didn’t have that in my system. Sometimes i got worried though… what if he kept my body and kept me in my room, i worried what would happen after death, what if my soul or whatever was trapped in the room?

———————————————————————

(Third person)

Klaus was not expecting the scene infront of him. His love passed out on the floor, paper scattered everywhere and his paintings ripped to shreds. He slowly lifted her sleeping form placing her back into bed, he notices a cluster of little bruises along her thighs and stomach, pinch marks? He frowned seeing her fingernails slightly bloody and kissed them gently

He went back to the papers, no more than a few words scribbled down. It was about the afterlife and some held questions of what was happening. She wasn’t sure where she was. He felt his confusion grow seeing his paintings beaten in, the paintings of her. Her own face was torn out and a dot her blood was soaked into the carpet.

He slowly neared her in the bed after clearing the mess. His hand hesitantly pressed to her forehead to look through her mind

“Show me what’s troubling you my love”

He wasn’t expecting to find her completely emotionless while watching a clock. A clock with no arms. The ticking was persistent and yet there was no second hand, mo minute hand or hour hand. He found he was entranced by it struggling to pull himself away.

He dug further seeing her mid way through a panic attack in the middle of the room, spinning around hastily while pure fear crawled upon her face, she kept asking what was happening, why was she there? Who was watching her.

His heart ached, his wolf cried and his soul hurt seeing her scratch her legs to the point of the skin breaking.

Seeing her unmoving for days

Her laughing at nothing

Crying at the abstract painting he had made for her

And then he found a younger version of her, a small child version. Speaking to her mother

“One day I’m gonna live in a big house! I’m gonna have a baby and a husband and a pet cat! We’re gonna have you round all the time and it’s gonna be great! We can take holidays every year to slowly travel the world!” The innocence and excitement at the girl held her first plane ticket waving it at her elder sister who rolled her eyes but smiled non the less

Klaus came back from her mind to find himself crying. He wiped at his tears and sat with her hand in his

“I’m so sorry” he uttered while trying to find a way to stop her mind from collapsing in on itself.

[stargazedwinchester]

Angel Girl | Dean

Summary: Dean learns you're not human, but an angel.

Requested here! Thank you! Let me know if you want a part 2! Felt like I could write this forever but obvs had to end it at some point lmaoo

Word count: 1,299

Taglist: @rowenalovee @amythedoctor @girlsforpjm @chaospossum @take-it-on-the-run, @themidnightwitch44 @linkthetrashgoblin

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

Dean's love life has always been rocky, from casual dating to raunchy hookups with the girls he finds at the local bar and waking up the next day simultaneously enjoying and regretting his life choices. He's never settled for anyone and the relationships he's had over the years have almost always ended on the wrong foot.

Until he met you.

Castiel had introduced you both whilst Cas had made an excuse of hearing your prayer over an issue that made him realise you're not quite the person that needed help, of course, because you were different.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

Dean wakes up in a cold sweat, his heart beating 100 times a second. His eyes scan the room to ensure he's awake and not in a dream state. He takes a deep breath, before propping himself up in bed, looking over at his bedside table and checking the time. 5:24 AM. "God damn it," He sighs, placing his head in his hands, hunching over. He rubs his stubble to try and wake himself up. His fern-coloured orbs meet with the ceiling. 

"God, just give me a break." He whispers, resting his forearm across his eyes. "Please let me sleep." He huffs, attempting to relax before sleeping again. The sound of large wings echoes the room, and Dean refuses to move his arm. "Cas, get out." He shoos, waving his spare hand.

"Hello." A sweet voice appears, making Dean jump out of his skin. He reaches for his gun and points it at the figure standing at his door. Fear takes over his face, his eyes enlarged and his mouth slightly agape. 

"Y/N?" He asks, his face reading multiple different emotions. "How did you get here?" He stumbles, his thought process is jumbled right now. His gorgeous eyes meet yours, then you look down at the floor. 

"I heard your prayer."

"M-my prayer?" He lays his gun flat on the bed, his gaze unable to move away from you. You nod.

"It's universal... You pray to God and angels can answer." You smile at him, yet he remains confused. "Y/N, you're an angel?" He questions, gradually getting up from the mattress. You assume that he already knew, maybe Cas had told him prior but Dean chose to not say anything about it. The surprise from Dean surprises you. "You didn't know?" You say softly, and Dean shakes his head. "I thought Cas would have told you, but that's okay. I guess there's much to talk about." You chuckle lightly. "Yeah, we do."

You tell Dean that you'll be back the following day to answer all of his questions, and allow him to return to bed so he can go back to sleep.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

You arrive at the bunker, the early morning Kansas sun beaming down onto the back of your head as you let yourself in. You walk down the stairs and meet Dean in the kitchen who's cooking up breakfast for himself. "Hey Dean," You greet, showing him a friendly smile. You stand next to the counter as he turns around and faces you. "Hey Y/N. You didn't zap in today?" He asks, scraping scrambled eggs and bacon onto two plates. "No, I wanted to seem more... normal. Human, I guess. Did it work?" You ask, a gleam in your eyes. "Yeah, I'd say so." He starts, reaching over to the drawer where the cutlery is kept. He passes you a plate, a knife and a fork. "Y'know, I was thinking last night..." He says, leading you over to the dining table. "I want to show you how to act more human. So..." He slides the plate in front of you, the steam travelling up toward your face, the smell engulfing you.

"I thought we could start with you trying food. Here," He passes you the cutlery in the correct hands. "Dig in." He finishes, piling his breakfast onto his fork and bringing it to his mouth. You attempt to do the same, but much slower. You bring it up to your mouth, allowing the food to sit there in your mouth for a few seconds. You swallow, Dean watching your every move. "See? Not so bad is it?" He chuckles lightly, and you smile at him. "No, it's quite enjoyable. The flavours are quite foreign." You say, lifting another forkful. 

You have both finished your breakfast, Dean's crack at trying to help you has definitely helped, but he's not done yet. He suggests that you both take a night to yourselves to catch you up on the most iconic movies. 

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

"I had an idea of watching a chick flick for tonight," He almost shivers at the idea. "Just this once. Then we can watch Star Wars." He says, and you laugh at him. "Dean Winchester watching a movie made specifically for teenagers... I never thought I'd see the day." You chuckle, and he smirks at your quick comment. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with a chick flick every so often." He admits, switching the TV over to something very close to Netflix, but is borderline illegal. Upon choosing Wild Child, you both sit back, remaining quiet throughout the whole movie.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

The movie finishes, and you glance over to Dean, who's sound asleep sitting up, his arms are crossed and one leg is resting over the other. Despite being an angel, you can't help but feel something warm and fuzzy ignite in your chest, a feeling of adoration and... something else you can't quite put your finger on. He shuffles, and you nudge his arm gently. "Dean," You whisper, trying to not startle him. He groans, his eyes flickering. "Dean, the movie has finished." You shake him again, and he rapidly sits up properly. "I'm awake." Dean rubs his eyes, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He stretches, his arms above his head. His t-shirt rides up a little, and you can't help but glare. He rests one arm above his head, and the other beside you on the sofa. 

Dean reaches for the TV remote and searches for one of the many Star Wars movies. "So, how'd you like that one?" He asks with his gaze upon you. You nod. "It was good. I can see why it's so popular." You smile, a gentle look on your face. He grins at you, nodding his head. "Can't say I've seen it many times myself," He clears his throat, searching for 'The Empire Strikes Back'. "Dean, I know when you're lying." You add, scanning his face. "What? No I'm not," He chuckles nervously, avoiding any eye contact with you. "Yes you are, I can feel it. Your weird behaviour is offputting."

"Offputting? That's rude." He jokes and the movie auto-plays. The intro to the movie startles you, and Dean laughs at you. "That's really loud." You huff, and Dean relaxes an arm around your shoulders. "It's okay. That's the only loud part of the movie." He adds, shuffling closer to you. "Now, this is one of the best Star Wars movies they've ever made," He starts, and you allow him to ramble about the context of the movie and which actor plays what character. You sit and stare at him whilst he has his rant, his passion for something has really intrigued you like no other.

Everyone will always have a say about supernatural beings and how they differ from humans, how the stereotype that angels are typically full of wisdom and forgiveness. But for you, wisdom is the need to know the true forms of the Winchester brothers, especially Dean. Something about him and the need to aid other people except himself has always bewildered you. 

Hoping that this will help you bring him closer to you, you'd just about do anything for that to happen.

[dovand]

i am as always thinking about 14 and the nobles... specifically 14 & shaun. CRIMINAL lack of 14 & shaun content . excuse me that is my emotional support deranged lovers-in-law prongs of a queerplatonic throuple V. that is my little scrinkly wet cat and his chill saint bernard friend. that is my symbiotic relationship weirdos who sleep back-to-back to 14 can a) leech his body heat b) cuddle donna c) not fall off the bed. that is my favourite “both wake up early but one of them is being clung to like they are a teddy bear and it is Not Shaun, who is making ‘too bad’ faces at 14 and tiptoeing away” dynamic.

(14 either ends up dozing again after he wakes up early or just lays there curled up thinking—but, either way, when shaun shows up with breakfast in bed every sunday, he is treated to the beautiful sight of the two huge autism creature eyes peering up at him from behind the most bedraggled mop of hair ever seen. whether there are any thoughts behind those eyes depends on whether their owner has been napping or Pondering)

(yes this is all made up in my head!!! yes i am dismayed by there only being FOUR FICS (4!!) using it as a tag and none of them (afaict) doing it in a qpr way. where is my deranged weirdplatonic polycule!!!)

further insanity under the cut pleasseee please please read. please i need to be insane about this with people

(also btw this post is about queerplatonic doctordonna, doctordonna shippers i love you and you are welcome to contribute but it is a Little squicky for me so if tag ur additions (so i have a heads-up) that would be so lovely and i would adore you forever <3)

shaun likes listening to people ramble and 14 likes rambling so it is a regular occurrence to find the two of them like. standing in the kitchen holding cups of tea except one of them is actually drinking the tea and one of them is talking too rapidly about equivalent exchange to remember to blink, let alone have a sip of earl gray that has veered violently past lukewarm and is headed straight for room temperature

if 14 is in a not-wordy mood tho… thru shaun’s expert tutelage he has mastered the art of the Dad Nod. he passes shaun in the hall and gives him a little nod. shaun gives him one back. 0 words are spoken but they understand each other on a deeper level than if there had been.

they go on a Family Outing to a thrift store. rose and donna disappear to the dressier sections. shaun creeps along the racks of trousers, solemnly comparing seemingly identical pairs of jeans. 14 follows him and stares for a while, then silently hands him a loudly patterned pair of shorts. shaun takes them without question and adds them to his basket & sylvia loses her mind just a little bit when she sees him wearing them

(^ this inspired by going thrifting w my friend and looking @ everything and then finding her dad looking thru the racks of shorts comparing two beige ones, and my friend handing him a pair of pink shorts with penguins on and him buying them. because he has some . i think plaid shorts? at home and when he wore them his wife said he looked gay. so he’s trying to do it More) (it's an incredible family dynamic there. i have no idea what is going on)

god jesus. 14 learns how to cook so he can be the housething (as opposed to housewife or househusband. he is just a weirdgenderthing. little creature). someone buys him a nice apron and he wears it with so much delight. chases everyone else out of the kitchen so he can concoct something lovely. runs out into the garden to stick something into an oven in the tardis kitchen because “i am not working with enough ovens, here, people!”. organises the pantry and gets this crazed look if anyone tries to stop him. “how will i know where things a—” “it will be LABELLED.” brandishes a label maker that DEFINITELY is not from modern-day earth given that it seems to take dictation as input and can print in colour and has not needed a refill of paper even though he has extensively labelled EVERY PLASTIC BOX of stuff in the pantry

sometimes he gets into Moods where he needs to solve a problem before it makes his head explode and that used to be a like. tinkering in the tardis thing. where he’d have himself and whatever poor companion he was with just floating in the time vortex for a week while he tries to make this bit of the tardis do what he wants it to. now it’s a day or two spent almost entirely in the kitchen trying to find the scientifically optimal method by which to make meringues. he starts gesturing dramatically with a spatula forgetting it is not a sonic screwdriver. makes a sonic spatula. realises he doesn’t often need to like. scan a pancake for malware. sadly puts the sonic spatula away

he is absolutely a nightmare to watch movies with btw bc a) can’t sit still b) so tall. either he is bouncing his leg and shaking the whole couch or he is stretched out across the entire sofa. no in between. donna buys a thick rug so he can just lay on the floor. the rug is TOO comfortable and he starts just spending time laying on the floor which would be fine if he thought to turn the lights on because people keep almost stepping on him while he’s having 4am Floor Time (on the nights he's not drooling all over donna's pillow)

if anyone else has thoughts about Them PLEASe share i will love you so much and forever. doctor~donna/shaun weirdcule is the only thing in my head