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elvensorceress · 2 days

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wip wednesday

tagged by @bekkachaos @tizniz @spotsandsocks @confetti-cupcake @wikiangela @hoodie-buck @exhuastedpigeon @sibylsleaves @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus tagging if you haven't played yet 💕 @eddiebabygirldiaz @wh0re-behavi0r @eddiediazisascorpio @kitteneddiediaz @monsterrae1 @lemonzestywrites @pinklobstertale @jesuiscenseedormir @jesuisici33 @chaosandwolves @frenziedblaze @family-tree-of-ships

some more of this little thing 👀

When Buck opens his eyes, someone is sitting on the couch near his feet the way Chris does. Someone who shouldn’t be here. Buck sits up frantically and stares at the vision of Eddie, healthy and beautiful and here and unharmed.

Buck is dreaming. That’s it. Has to be. Wow, he actually fell asleep? Enough to dream?

“Hey, Buck,” this Eddie says softly, and it sounds so real. It’s gentle and loving and full of warmth like Eddie always is when they talk.

Buck reaches for him. He sits up and needs to hug him, hold him, feel him alive and breathing on his own. But when Buck reaches him, he touches nothing. There’s nothing to touch.

He’s dreaming. It’s a vision. Nothing solid. Buck sags and sits back on his side of the couch and stares instead. Maybe looking at whole, healthy beautiful Eddie will somehow manifest this into reality. “You’re not real. You’re not here. I’m dreaming, right? And talking to myself? Apparently.”

“Either that or I am,” Eddie says.

Buck hadn’t considered that. Maybe Buck is the one who isn’t real. Maybe none of this is real and the whole of his existence is in his mind. Or in the mind of someone else?

Who knows. It’s too convoluted and too much to think about. But he’s read about this happening before. Someone’s loved one in the hospital, near death, and how their family had dreams or visions of them visiting. Maybe relaying messages. Maybe offering a comforting presence. Maybe nothing but the imagination of a mind wrecked by tragedy. Doesn’t really matter either way.

“Why are you here? Buck asks him even if he’s talking to himself.

Eddie swallows and looks pained. And so real. So, so vividly real. Even if nothing is real anymore. “I wanted to be with you.”

Buck reaches for him again because he has to. Eddie offers his hand in return this time.

Their fingers go through each other. Not touching. Nothing to feel. Nothing tangible.

They can’t touch.

Why would they? Even in a dream, they don’t get to have anything of each other.

“Please don’t die,” Buck says.

Eddie gives him a pained smile. “I’m trying really hard not to.”

Buck knows that. He knows Eddie would fight. Is fighting. He had to say it anyway. “Why did you— why? I mean I know it’s our job and that’s what we do. But what happened? Why— why was it like that? Why did it end up like that?”

Did you do it on purpose? Did you sacrifice yourself to save Tommy? Did you do that?

Eddie looks away from him, exactly how real Eddie would. He shrugs. As if it’s nothing. As if it’s just an accident. As if there was no emotion behind anything. “I know you need him. I wasn’t going to let you lose him.”

Buck closes his eyes, bends his head, and just wants to cry again like he has been for more than two weeks. “Eddie,” he sobs and clutches himself around his chest, around his own body since he can’t touch Eddie. “I need you, too. I can’t— This isn’t okay. This is worse. This is so much worse. Not that I want it the other way. It would have killed me, too. But. I can’t do this. I can’t lose you. I need you, too.”

“I figured,” Eddie says quietly. So quiet and strained and absent and distant. Too distant. “If you had to choose. You already chose. You picked him. I couldn’t let you lose him.”

At this point, Buck isn’t sure which is worse— if this is real and what Eddie really thinks or if this is his own mind telling him what he already feels guilty about.

#buddie #buddie wip #jenwyn wip #wip wednesday #fic: if i should fall #911 fic #911 #minor implied bucktommy but lbr this is me #yes I will use any little excuse to add magical realism and the paranormal #I was raised on the x-files okay

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eggyrocks · 3 days

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bites -> h. iwaizumi

now playing: the chamber pot was full by iris bilinsky

main masterlist

tags: iwaizumi x gn!reader, hurt/comfort

word count: 3.3k

warnings: illusions to childhood trauma, destructive coping mechanisms, unstable relationship, arguments, abandoment, death of a family member, language, 3rd person pov, they/them pronouns for reader, not proofread

minors dni & other rules

an: if no one else got me, i bet on losing dogs got me. can i get an amen

It’s easier to bite than it is to be bitten.

And when the first few years of your life leave you with angry, ragged bite marks all over your body, the imprints of familiar teeth disfiguring your skin, it’s something you learn quickly. You’d do anything to stop it. You’d present your neck in submission. You’d scatter at the sight of bared teeth. You’d eventually start biting back.

The train rocks them slightly, their shoulders drifting just a touch left, and then just a touch right. The low noises of the train pulling forwards on the track are blocked out by the headphones on their head, soft and sweet music in their ears. The sky is rich and dark, an empty basin untouched by the lights of skyscrapers and phone screens. It’s nice, almost. Peaceful.

They’re not quite used to the city yet, even though it’s been years. Sometimes, in the morning, when their mind is awake, but their eyes are still closed shut and the sunlight is turning their eyelids a bright orange, they’re afraid that they’re back home. That they will open their eyes and be there. Where it’s quieter, but the buzz of cicadas was constant. Back home, where every noise was a threat, and every threat made their spine curl inwards.

The noises of the city around them are their first comfort. Noise isn’t something to be feared, here. When they hear it, the voices of strangers and rumbling of the subway beneath them float up into their open window, they can finally open their eyes, and feel at ease.

Steadily, the train eases into a stop. Their eyes drift towards the sign, and note their stop is still further down the line, that they’re still nowhere near as close to home as they would like to be.

Today was their mother’s funeral. They didn’t go. They cried, and then felt like they had no right to. They drank a bottle of something that made their throat burn, and then hurled the glass bottle against the wall, just so they could watch it shatter. And when they left, not even bothering to lock the door behind them, the shards were still scattered across the hardwood floor, reflecting the sunlight that poured in through the window.

It's been a day of idling wandering. Of trying so desperately not to think of the one thing that has been on their mind. A day of trying to become numb. A fleshy and pliable mound of nothing, free of bite marks, unbothered by the cicadas.

Their body is tired and their mind worn, eyes red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears. They just want to go home. To step over the glass and wake up to noise and pretend that their mother isn’t dead or alive, but just a faded, blurry memory that could be real, or might not be.

Vibrations from their pocket drag them out of their thoughts. They clear their throat as if they’re going to speak, but they know they’re not going to answer. It doesn’t matter who’s calling. There’s nothing they need to say.

Hajime.

They sniffle and clear their throat again. And then, they place their phone back in their pocket, letting it ring, hoping that he will give up after he gets their voicemail the first time.

When they first met Iwaizumi Hajime, they had a school uniform and a bag full of contraband. Loose stolen cigarettes, water bottles filled with clear alcohol, a handful of lighters that could barely produce a flame.

It was dark, and classes had let out hours ago, but yet they lingered. Wandering on campus, trying not to be seen by anyone else that might still be lingering. The wind kept blowing out the lighter, and they were struggling to keep the tip of the cigarette red. They leaned up against the outside of a building, focused on the heat on the tips of their fingers.

“What are you doing?”

They didn’t flinch. Getting caught never made them flinch. They were used to it, at this point. Used to being the delinquent, the one always in trouble. The one who caused problems. What was one more issue. What was another problem. They turned their head to face the person who called out, lip already furled up in a snarl.

It was some relief to them to see that it wasn’t anyone of authority. Not really. Just two dickheads from one of their sports teams. They recognized one. Oikawa Tooru. Pretty and imposing, adored by all. It was impossible not to know who he was, even if you tried. And they tried.

The second one, they didn’t recognize. The only thing they remember about him from that night is how they looked at them. Frowning slightly, head tilted. Not looking disgusted like his friend did. Not looking scared or worried or uncomfortable like all the other looks they were used to getting. He looked at them in a way that was unfamiliar. In a way that made them take a step back.

They had fixed their glare on Oikawa. “None of your fucking business,” they called back to him, voice as nasty as it always was, and lighter finally catching the end of their cigarette, tip cherried.

There was this look Oikawa gave them. One that made them want to snarl and snap their jaw like a dog. One that told them so clearly that he thought he was better than them. That he was a figure of superiority, and they were filth to him.

He didn’t say anything else, though. His friend nudged him with an elbow and gave him one look. Then they were off, walking away as if nothing had happened. As if they heard none of your fucking business and accepted it earnestly.

And they were relieved to be alone again.

They had noticed pretty quickly, though, that the friend, the one with the look, was hard to avoid after that. He didn’t say anything to them, not for a while. But he kept an eye on them. Head turning to look at them in class, not bothering with discretion. He always found them after classes, hiding somewhere on campus.

Eventually, they learned his name. Eventually, he started asking if he could walk them home. Iwaizumi asked seven times before they said yes.

Their eyes were on the ground, watching Iwaizumi’s stride, and how it matched with theirs. Their hand gripped tightly on the strap of their bag. “Why’d you want to walk me home so bad?” they had asked, breaking a long stretch of silence.

Iwaizumi shrugged. He didn’t look at them. “I don’t know. I just want to. No harm to it, so just let me, alright?”

So they did.

Every night, after they avoided going home for as long as possible and Iwaizumi was sweaty and out of breath from practice, they walked home. He would always stand back and watch as they opened the door and closed it behind them. Then, Iwaizumi would turn around and walk back in the direction they came from.

Iwaizumi became a lot of things to them. Too many to list off. It was overwhelming to think about, sometimes. They way that he became so intwined with their life that it was hard to remember what it was like before he was in it.

He made life easier, for them. Iwaizumi would laugh and it would make them smile. They woke up in the morning and their first thought was not to listen for the potential creak of footsteps outside of their door, but it was of Iwaizumi and his crooked grin and the way his voice sounded over the phone. And when things got hard, they would close their eyes and grit their teeth and endure, thinking of how it would all be okay once they could sneak out the window and slip into Iwaizumi’s.

His fingers were running along their scalp, weaving between the roots of their hair and a thin line of spit connected their lips. It broke when he opened his mouth to say, “I love you,” for the first time.

At the time, I love you didn’t seem like enough. Because Iwaizumi was more than just someone to love. He made breathing easier. He dragged his teeth along the skin of their neck and left bite marks that meant something new. They said it back in a voice that sounded like a strangers, and they meant it. But it never felt like enough. Not for Iwaizumi.

And then, after two years of a love that felt like it took up all the air in the room, he left. Iwaizumi left.

They weren’t mad. It wasn’t anger or rage. It was this heartbreak that felt like nausea. This cramping, pounding pain in the chest that doubled them over, that made them shake. This desperation to cling to him and this internal begging to him, to the universe, to anyone, for it to not be true. For him to stay, by their side, where they thought he was supposed to be.

But it was true. Iwaizumi was leaving. Going to a different country without them. Going to live a different life without them. Going to become a new person without them. And it didn’t matter how sweetly he delivered the news, how he held onto them as he did. It didn’t make it hurt less.

Hurt dogs bite. They snap their jaws out of fear of getting hurt worse. And that was all they were ever taught to do.

He’s been back for over a year, now. Living in the same city as them. Orbiting the same circles as them. Iwaizumi’s different now. They’re different now. But it didn’t take long after his return for them to collide again. In bars. In coffee shops. In rooms with locked doors.

Every time they do, they feel like they can forgive him for leaving. When they’re deep into the night together or there’s alcohol in their veins or Iwaizumi’s kissing them like he used to. It’s in those moments they feel like they can be together, like they were. But then when their thoughts get clearer and the sun rises, they remember how the abandonment felt, and how they never truly got over it. They remember how they could never, ever forget, and certainly could not forgive. And they bite.

The train stops again. The doors open, and no one steps off. No one steps on. Iwaizumi left a voicemail. They don’t listen. They don’t want to hear his voice. But they look at the transcription of his words. Where are you? Please call me. Don’t do this, okay? Please.

When he calls again, they swipe the notification away, determined to ignore him, determined not to find comfort in him again. The tip of their thumb hits taps on their messages, scrolling through their dozens of unread texts. They have some from Iwaizumi, which they ignore. There’s plenty from distant relatives, grandparents, siblings. They’re full of admonishments and curses and lectures.

Some are nice, from friends, some acquaintances, wishing them well and giving awkward, unsure condolences. They have one from Oikawa.

9:12 PM: Stop doing this to him.

It was always up and down with Oikawa. He never thought them worthy enough of Iwaizumi and was always quick to point out their mistakes and flaws and issues. But they would always remember the night Oikawa had drunkenly confessed to them after Iwaizumi’s return that he hopes it works out for the both of them. That Iwaizumi was better with them around. That they just need to get their shit together.

They sigh and pocket their phone again. It did little to help.

For the rest of the ride, they ignored the constant calls from Iwaizumi, and let the voicemails pile up, until there was no more space for them.

He’d given up by the time they reached their stop, and the sun had fully dipped behind the horizon. They step out of the station and onto the street, one song playing on a loop, and walk lazily back towards their apartment. It’s an early summer night, the air pleasant, not too sticky with humidity. They can feel the substances drain from their veins as they start to gain some sense of clarity.

Their shoulders are drooped and feet dragging by the time they reach their front door. Sloppily, they push their key in, missing the first two times, before they push their hip into the door, ready to stumble into bed and sleep so long they forget about the fact that their mother is dead.

Once they stagger into the kitchen, though, they freeze. He’s there. Iwaizumi is there, one hand holding a trash bag, the other pressing a phone to his ear. “-yeah, no I’ll call you back. They just got here.”

He hangs up then, slipping his phone into the pocket of his jeans. They stand there, frozen at the sight of him. There’s no shattered glass bottle on the floor. There’s no stains of alcohol on the wall. There is just Iwaizumi, exhausted.

Before they can even full process his presence, he’s dropping the trash bag on the ground and walking towards them, arms extending and pulling them tightly into his chest. And it’s in his embrace, suddenly encased in a familiar warmth and smell, that they snap back into reality. They squirm, palms of their hands pressed flat against his chest and shoving him away. “What are you doing?” they ask, step back and away from him.

Iwaizumi lets go, and he looks at them. The same look he had on the first night they had ever seen him, back in high school. It’s one that they’ve gotten used to over the years. Curiosity and concern. Iwaizumi wears the urge to protect them the same as he always has. “Where have you been?” he asks, voice hoarse and worn. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

They toss their keys on to their countertop. “Don’t worry about it,” they dismiss, turning their back on him and opening the refrigerator, eyes scanning for an unopened bottle of alcohol. Whatever kind will work. They’re just feeling too sober.

But Iwaizumi is a step behind them, and he juts his knee into the fridge, closing the door. They turn again, arms crossed and glaring to see that he is glaring right back down at them. “What’s your problem today?” they demand, aggravated, aggressive.

“Don’t do this,” Iwaizumi pleads, trying to keep his own frustrations clear from his tone. “Not today. Just let me be here for you.”

They scoff, and roll their eyes, opening the fridge once more, swooping down to snatch up and can of beer before Iwaizumi closes it once more. “Just so you can leave again in the morning?”

It’s mean. It’s unnecessary. But they can’t help it. It comes naturally to them, to throw it back in his face in a moment like this. They don’t know why they do it. They don’t get any sense of satisfaction when the words hit his face, when they make it drop. It just twists their gut in this awful sort of way.

The can of beer opens with a hiss, and they take a hefty gulp. Iwaizumi watches, and balls his hands into fists by his side. “Drinking’s only going to make it worse,” he warns, voice thick. It only earns another scoff from them, and Iwaizumi takes a step closer to them. They take a step away, their back hitting the counter behind them.

“What are you doing here?” they ask, holding the can of beer in front of their lips, using it as a barrier between them and Iwaizumi’s words.

“No one knew where you were,” he tells them, strained. “I’ve been trying to figure out where you went and what the fuck happened all day.”

They shrug. “I went out. I dunno.”

He’s unimpressed. “Did you got to the funeral?” he asks.

The words make them flinch. It makes them uneasy to hear those words spoken aloud. “No. Did you?”

Iwaizumi frowns. He hated their mother. He’s always hated her. He wouldn’t honor her in life and he wouldn’t honor her in death. “No. Where were you all day?”

“Why’s it fucking matter?”

Iwaizumi inhales. They can see the breath rise and fall in his broad shoulders. “Cut the shit, okay? I’m sick of it,” he snaps. “You’re really starting to piss me off with this. Stop acting like people don’t care about you. Stop acting like I don’t care about you. I do care about you and it makes me fucking worried when you just disappear-“

“You disappeared,” they remind him, pointing a finger against the center of his chest. “You left me, and you weren’t worried about me then, so you don’t get to be worried now.”

He shakes his head. “I was worried. I never stopped worrying. Being away from you fucking sucked for me too,” he insists, trying to keep a control on the volume of his voice, but it wavers.

They cry when they’re angry. They can’t help it. They hate it. It makes them feel weak and emotional. But their throat gets tight and their eyes prick and they just can’t stop themself. “It sucked for you but it was hell for me! I was stuck with her and all I wanted was you and if I couldn’t have you, then I just wanted to hear your voice but you never fucking called!” they erupt, leaning in closer to him now, face hot and tears spilling.

Their voice shakes. They’ve argued, they’ve danced around the subject. They reminded Iwaizumi of how he left. But this is the first time they’ve said anything more about it, and the worst twist in their chest.

“You abandoned me,” they continue. “Once when you got on the plane and then again when you acted like I didn’t exist. I used to wait up all night for a phone call from you.”

Iwaizumi blinks. “I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me,” he admits, voice lower now. “I thought you hated me.”

They did hate him. They hated him and they loved him all at once. “I still hate you,” they say, and it’s half-true. “I hate you,” they choke out. It’s half a sob, and they slump back against the counter. “I hate you.”

Iwaizumi leans closer, placing his hands on counter on either side of them, caging them in. “I love you,” he says, plainly, like it’s a fact. And they shake their head, crossing their arms over their chest, trying to deny it. Iwaizumi lifts a hand and takes their chin between his thumb and his finger. He makes them look him in the eye. “I love you.”

And they feel so stuck. Because they want to push him away and kick him out and delete his number and never, ever give him the chance to leave them ever again. They never want to feel the way they felt when Iwaizumi disappeared from their life.

But they want so badly to be loved by him again, and to love him again. He’s offering it to them, leaning in closer to his forehead rests against theirs, and they’re not sure they have the self-discipline to deny him. “I love you,” he whispers again. “I don’t care if you hate me. I’ll always love you.”

It’s then that they can’t hold back the sobs any longer. It all just becomes too much. The drop the can of beer, still almost full, and it fizzes and spills all over the floor. Neither one of them seems to notice, as they lean forward, pressing their face into Iwaizumi’s neck as their cries rock through them. Iwaizumi is steady, like he always is, arms tight around their back, holding them up, like he always did.

And at least for now, that is enough for them.

an: omg this was kinda corny but also i kinda love it lmao. VERY DIFFERENT FROM WHAT I USUALLY POST HERE SO I AM NERVOUS !! if u made it this far pls tell me what u think <333 reblogs are appreicated!

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grimm-writings · 2 days

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hello! <3 i read your dungeon meshi stuff and it was great!! is it alright if i request some relationship headcanons with chilchuk? preferably with a male s/o, but gn is alright too! thank you sm! i hope you have a good day.

chilchuck relationship headcanons!!

…ft! chilchuck x m! reader

…tags! fluff, mentions of chilchuck's wife, chilchuck bisexuality crisis, teeny weeny hurt/comfort, talk of marriage, just word vomit tbh

…wc! 1561 (UHM...)

…notes! m! reader food come get it!!!!!!!! thank you for giving me the opportunity to go crazy stupid with this request anon i love chil so much is it obvious yet

Ok let’s get one thing straight.

(He isn’t. Haha.)

But! In all seriousness, Chilchuck has one thing he needs to do before considering a committed relationship.

Yep, even with all the longing glances, late night conversations, and helping each other learn and grow, he has to delay the fruition of your relationship until after everything after the dungeon dies down.

Well… he just needs to talk to his past lover first. He needs to have a long, long conversation with her, and he’ll be sure to mention you too.

He relays this to you during the great feast privately. Despite his nervousness, the sigh of relief that escapes him is noticeable. His shoulders slack and he closes his eyes. Finally, it’s off his chest.

Before we talk about the actual relationship, though, let’s talk about stuff that happened during the pining phase! Yay!

Chilchuck only had one flame his entire life, and that was his childhood friend. He never really ‘dated’, never really had any sort of time to explore his feelings for anyone else.

To put it plainly, he had no idea he was into guys.

“I dunno, Senshi was always kind of handsome,” Chilchuck notes with Laios, and his doppelganger nods in agreement. You and Marcille pause for a second, processing the words the two men said. Like a house pet that has certain opinions regarding these sorts of people, you side-eye one another. “How would you know that?” You challenge. In response, one of the Chilchucks glances over at you – the more tired looking one – and he shrugs. “Not anyone would have the kinda bold look in his eyes he has. The pinnacle of masculinity,” he huffs with a small grin, as if daydreaming of the very such thing. You have no words. You quite simply don’t.

It’d be a major “oh FUCK” moment when he does realise. Honestly the entire realisation of feelings for Chilchuck is Good Medicine but times a billion.

He’s pacing he’s pulling at his hair he’s questioning how the HELL did this happen.

If he has a pillow he is screaming into it more often than he normally does.

If you’re more on the masculine side, or are a dwarf, this man is a right mess around you.

Like he’s stammering constantly and hates himself for it. Constantly red in the face around you and has to excuse himself.

But like . Not in a gay way or anything.

(Seriously if you think how he avoids his friends is ridiculous, this is eleven times worse.)

It takes some time, but I can imagine there’s a moment in the dungeon where you kissed at least once.

Chilchuck is the one to break away first, his eyes wide and face beet red. It doesn’t take long for him to take his hands away from where they were, interlaced with yours, to hold his face and drag his skin down in dread. “...Did you like it?” You nervously ask. He’s the king of mixed signals… The half-foot nods slowly, still looking like he experienced some form of unwanted enlightenment. “Yuh–huh,” he squeaks. You smile. That’s good enough for you.

Marcille definitely picks up on SOME tension though. She’s oddly observant of that sort of thing.

Once you actually reveal to the party that you’re seeing each other post-canon, Marcille disrespectfully shouts “I KNEW IT!”

As Chilchuck and her have an arguing match about that, you’ll look at Laios who looks shocked. He had no idea. Some things never change.

Senshi and Falin are normal and actually just congratulate you. Give them hugs for me.

BUT FINALLY ONTO ACTUAL RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS!!!!!! (This is like 600 words so far.)

He’s still uneasy about a lot of things. He has a deep-rooted fear of messing this up again.

When the relationship is established he might distance himself for a bit. Not on purpose, mind you, he’s just… not sure of what to do, and he’d rather not do anything at all than mess up.

Chilchuck no that in turn is messing up noo!!!!

You’d have to tell him this and he’ll try and turn his behaviour around instantaneously. He’ll be nervous and frustrated with himself, but take it slow and he’ll come around eventually.

His nicknames are … unique.

He’ll use stuff like “idiot” with the greatest affection in his eyes and a soft grin, but he’ll say “hey handsome” with the most dripping sarcasm and sneer. Why is he like this—

Play with his strands of grey hair and he’s so flustered, swatting your hand away. If he’s tired and cuddling into you, though, he… well, he wouldn’t mind it.

Speaking of cuddling! He didn’t really do much like cuddling in his previous relationship, to your surprise. He just shrugs and says he and his old flame weren’t that kind of people.

This is how you inadvertently find out Chilchuck is a wombo combo of touch starved and too embarrassed by it to do anything about it. How does he live…?

He knows himself if you’re not a half-foot that him being a big spoon is too ridiculous of a notion. Yeah, he immediately assumes he has to be the one spooning you. He realises with time though that he… drastically prefers being in your arms. Feeling secure, loved… He really really likes it.

Not like you can ever get him to admit it verbally.

(You can still see it from how he relaxes into you and smiles as he drifts off into dreamland.)

It’s been a long day, and Chilchuck wants nothing more than to see you. You look up from where you were sitting when your boyfriend enters the house and smile. “Good evening, love.” God, your smile. If he didn’t know he’d be coming home to this, then the work day wouldn’t have been worth it. He sighs and smiles, walking to you and immediately falling onto your lap. His face tucks itself into your stomach and his arms wrap around your middle. “Hm, someone’s tired,” you remark with a grin. Chilchuck merely groans into your form. Sparing him from any teasing, you card your fingers through your hair. You can already feel how he melts into you as he loses consciousness. You lean down and kiss the shell of his ear. “Sweet dreams, Chil.”

For a long time, he struggles with actually calling you his boyfriend. It’s not like he’s ashamed of you, it’s just… It’s always been “my wife” for such a long time. He still can’t quite fathom this change in his life. That you’re his and he’s yours.

Eventually, he’ll be the one to proudly proclaim “my boyfriend!” when he gets the chance to mention you. He’s quite proud of the fact he’s got you, after all.

His kisses are usually quick and brief pecks on your temple or if he’s not in reach, your hand or shoulder.

Ugh can you imagine him taking your hand and giving a kiss to the back of it? And you can feel his thumb ghost over your knuckles reassuringly before wishing you farewell to work? Dying dead.

Kiss him and he’s always taken aback every time. He still won’t be able to comprehend it no matter how many times you’ve done it.

(To be slightly on the more suggestive side… really likes making out when in the mood. He can do that for hours with him on top of you. Though he wouldn’t mind being underneath if he considers it…)

He daydreams more often than he likes, especially early in the relationship. He’ll feel ridiculous for it, like some lovestruck schoolboy but… well, yeah, he IS utterly enamoured with you! Don’t be surprised if you catch him staring at you or checking you out in some way. Call him out, and he’ll flush with a furrowed brow and glance away.

His love language mostly comes in the form of acts of service. Although there’s a slight bit of gift giving too. He likes giving you wordworks or embroidery he made if he knows you like it. Maybe he’ll make you a teddy or ragdoll if you’re into that!

You also get Chilchuck thinking about the impossible after a while. He doesn’t try to make a big deal out of it, but it’s kinda hard when…

“I think I can give marriage a second chance,” Chilchuck says out of the blue to you one relaxing night in bed. His hair is messed up by you burying your head into it, and your lover is tucked into your chest, holding onto your waist. His words certainly catch you off guard, and for once Chilchuck doesn’t make a thing out of being the one to fluster you for once. Instead, he tucks his nose into your neck and sighs. “I just…” he pauses for a few seconds. “I think I can do it right this time. If you’re here with me. I think I can do it.” The silence is thick with a kind of tenderness you’d only associate with the colour pink. It’s deep and you can feel your face glow in the heat. You pull Chilchuck closer and kiss his head. “I’d really like that Chilchuck. I really would.” He chuckles slightly at the soft sensation, closing his eyes again. “Thank you,” he says, “I mean it. I couldn’t have made it this far without you.”

#✮ grimm's fics!#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #delicious in dungeon imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck tims imagines #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #male reader #m!reader #m! reader

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fandomnerd9602 · 1 day

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Break

Fem!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

You and Petra Parker, the Spectacular Spider Girl were happily married. Life was good and a proper balance of work, college, and superhero stuff. You couldn’t have asked for anything better.

And then Petra told you she was pregnant. You were on cloud nine. The woman of your dreams was going to having your baby. Your dad, the always showboating Tony Stark, was already a doting grandpa and the baby wasn’t even born yet.

He showed up with a moving truck full of baby stuff, clothes, and diapers. “Let me know if you need anything else” your dad gave you and Petra a genuine smile. “I want my grandson to want for nothing”

“What if it’s a little girl, Mr Stark?” Petra asked with a little smirk.

“Even more so” he gave a shrug before jumping in his Lamborghini.

Aunt May practically spent every day over at your house from that point on. She already trying to coach her niece thru the first trimester, cooking meals, helping with the nursery, etc.

You and Petra couldn’t be happier. But you could tell something was on your wife’s mind. It all started at the end of the first trimester. She was started to show signs of a pregnant belly.

You found you and her getting ready for patrol. Petra just looked at herself in the mirror, costume at her ankles and only standing there in her skivvies.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” You approached her and wrapped her in a hug from behind, locking eyes with her in the mirror.

Her eyes were full of tears and a bit of sadness, “I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t be Spider Girl anymore” she whispered. Her hands were gently caressing her belly.

“I wouldn’t say anymore” you countered.

“Our baby is my main responsibility and priority, Stark” she said back. She turned in your arms to face you. Her lips were mere inches from yours. “I just want what’s best for little May”

“May?” You smiled at her, “that’s what you want to name her? Little May?”

You nuzzle Petra, earning a giggle from your favorite Web-Head.

“Yeah.” Petra giggled, “we can call her May-May as a nickname.”

“I love it. And I love you.” You gently rubbed her arms, reassuring her as best you could, “I support you. And I’m proud of you. Our baby’s gonna have a super mom”

“You’re so corny” Petra buries her head in your neck. How you love her scent, the way her head fits perfectly into the crook of your neck.

You smiled, “our baby. It’s so surreal to say”

“I know” she whispered back.

So Petra had to briefly retire from that point on. The Spectacular Spider Girl disappeared for about a year. No one knew why.

It didn’t matter if anyone else knew. All you and Petra cared about was the family you and her were building together.

And that’s all that truly mattered, just you, Petra and little May-May.

Tags: @jacelion @ma1egamer @multi-fandom-enjoyer @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @mostlymarvelsstuff @deafeningsharkslimeempath @iamnicodemus @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @wombatking @lifespectator @aloneodi @abimess @family-house-of-m @holiday-house-of-m @russianredassassin @revanshand @tokufighter

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bluejeanstrash · 2 hours

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tags: boyfriend! seungcheol x reader, just a little light-hearted fluff of seungcheol being a dramatic whiny baby when he’s sick, mentions of dry scalp and skin picking lol, seungcheol is very whiny | wc: 742

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

a classic cough and cold combo paired with a side of fever-related aches and pains — that was the diagnosis, not the life-threatening illness seungcheol was sure he’d contracted. he’d tried convincing you it was fast-spreading. like really fast. like it has taken over his body and has been shutting down his organs one by one for the past 6 hours fast.

‘i’m going to die. it’s not a joke anymore. i seriously feel like i’m going to die’ he tugs at the hem of your t-shirt as you clear up the mountain of tissues on the left bedside table, and then tugs again while you’re clearing up a pile of dishes on the right.

you sigh, ignoring him, and disappear into the kitchen to reappear with a fresh bowl of hot chicken soup ‘seungcheol, we’ve been over this already. you’re not going to die’

‘forget it! just get me my will. i have to make some last-minute changes’ he asks for it dramatically, draping a limp arm over his eyes.

‘you don’t have a will’ you blow on the hot soup in quick bursts before feeding him a spoonful.

‘ugh, never mind. it’s fine’ the will talk is waved off with a quick fan of the hand to make way for what he says next ‘they give everything to the spouse anyway. wait, do they?’

‘i don’t know, and we’re not married’ you remind him, stirring the hot liquid so the shredded chicken, his favourite part, rises to the top.

‘god, you’re right’ he sits up a little straighter and grabs your free hand, suddenly somber ‘do you take choi seungcheol to be your lawf-’

you force-feed him another spoonful to shut him up, a bit of it spilling onto the quilted blanket. the soup must’ve still been too hot because he lets out a little cry, whining, though it’s entirely possible he’s overreacting.

‘you’re not taking this seriously, i’m actually dying’

‘you’re not’

‘what do you know! you’re not a doctor!’ he grumbles, taking a moment to tell you he really likes the soup and really really appreciates you making it for him before continuing to rant.

‘yeah, and what about the actual doctor we called who said you’re not?’

‘he doesn’t know anything either, that hack. the people on the internet’ he picks up his phone from the bed, showing you a screenshot from some site you’re pretty sure is for hypochondriacs to confirm each other’s delusions, and taps on the screen ‘have told me i have less than 24 hours left. 24. 24!’

‘seungcheol, i can’t have this conversation with you anymore. seriously. you need to go to sleep’ you put the empty bowl aside, straightening, and then pulling the blanket up to cover him.

‘no, no, don’t leave. i want lap time’ he pouts, baby-talking his way into his third one of the day. you sit back down on the bed with a sigh as he repositions himself to lay on your lap, wriggling his head around until he’s comfy. your fingers slowly comb through his hair, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp to soothe him. in a slightly gross but domestic act, you pick a few bits of flaky skin out of his unwashed hair, flicking them away. you should wash it for him later, you think. he’d like that.

seungcheol always found the sensation of you picking at his scalp strangely comforting, and surprisingly quite sleep-inducing. minutes pass without a single sound.

it’s quiet. finally. or so you think.

‘if i die, you can’t date anyone for the next 10 years. at least’

‘what?!’ you jerk your thighs up, pushing him off your lap ‘10 years? you’re crazy’

he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

‘i was just being nice. you shouldn’t date anyone ever, but ohmygod, i can’t believe you want to be with someone else’ he presses his fingers to his temples, suddenly coming down with a headache.

‘so let me get this straight’ he continues ‘you’re telling me when i die tomorrow-’

‘you won’t’

‘-when i die tomorrow, you’re going to bring some other man to my funeral?!’ his cheeks now hot with a shade of distressed pink.

you’re not sure where he’s got that from but you’ve had enough. you get up, grabbing the bowl, and look him straight in the eye, pinching his cute little cheeks ‘well, it’s a good thing you’re not dying then’

you walk out, leaving him right there on the bed, hot and most definitely cold.

#scoups fluff #seungcheol fluff #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups #choi seungcheol #scoups drabble #seungcheol drabble #scoups x you #seungcheol x you

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charlottecutepie · 3 days

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hi Lizzy, sorry to bother you but can I request for a Henry X reader? My man lacks content about him :(( it can be about anything I don't mindd

⋆୨♡୧⋆ Henry Emily x fem!reader smut blurb

author note: thank u for this request love! don't know why but breeding kink + size kink is henry, also him having a dad bod is canon for me. also important: the way i imagine henry is by @kcokaine_ on twitter

tags: nsfw, smut, vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, size kink, softdom!henry, jealous!henry, but he tries to hide it, william is an asshole, public sex, breeding kink, missionary, established relationship, Henry’s dilf bc i said so

William has no shame, Henry realized that a long time ago. Especially when he found out that William was cheating on his wife. William doesn't have a shred of damn shame when he lets himself touch you. When he literally fucks you with his eyes. When he tries to give you fucking compliments. Henry rarely experiences such feelings of anger and jealousy. Henry hates himself for his gentle nature and for not being able to punch his friend right into his face. Especially when the pizzeria hall is full of children and their parents as they have no idea what a disgusting asshole William is.

Of course, Henry could have waited until he got home and made love to you there, fucking you so good that you'd have forgotten William's name. But there's always a but. Today Henry wants William to know that you don't need anyone's else's cock but his.

When Henry warned you that his hands were big enough, you just laughed and softly pushed him into his broad chest, that was a joke, right?

But you're not laughing when you feel how true his words turned out to be. Not just the hands, but in fact the whole Henry. His physique is far from athletic, this man isn’t so young anymore and doesn't really keeps his figure, but damn, these muscles that reminds so much of his youth, dad bod, wide shoulders and his damn tall height, you're nearly whining. Now you realise what he was talking about (or warning?), there's only one of his fingers inside you, but it feels like all three. You're wet, incredibly horny and dripping, but it doesn't make it any easier. Henry looks into your eyes, and then his gaze falls on your pussy taking his finger. He frowns, he doesn't want to take out his anger and jealousy on you at all, he just can't do this to you, he loves you too much, so he tries to do everything gently and slowly.

“Kiss me,” you whisper to him, your eyes filled with nothing but desire. Henry looks up at you and then crushes his lips on yours, as if he's been waiting for these words all his life. He kisses you softly and sensually, with all his love and affection he have for you, for his girl. Without taking his mouth off yours, he adds another finger and you pull away to make a loud moan, but Henry literally shuts you up with his palm.

“Remember you can't be loud, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead as he thrusts his large fingers in and out of your soaked cunt. “you can take it.” his low and dominant, but soft tone as he speaks quietly only arouses you more.

You desperately nod and he puts his hand off you, now holding one of your legs open to prevent you from closing them. All this time he stares into your eyes, watching your face and reaction. His thick digits stretch you open just good, making you shiver. Henry curls them slightly, rubbing against your soft spots until you moan, pressing yourself against his hand shamelessly. “Henryyy—” you whine, your pussy clenches around his finger, so fucking wet and responsive.

“Goddamn,” he whispers, pulling his finger out with a wet sound and rubs your swollen clit. You moan again, arching your hips towards him, begging for more contact. “need to taste you, princess.” he says raspingly, pressing his finger on your little bud.

He kisses the inside of your thigh softly, making his way slowly towards your core. You whimper as you feel his tongue on your clit, your legs twitch in pleasure. Henry holds you firmly as he eats you out, he's kissing and circling your sensitive bundle with his tongue. It feels too divine, too fucking good and you can't hold your loud noises, biting your own hand. “Ohh, please—” you cry out as he buries his face deeper into your needy pussy.

You're trembling as your hand grips the edge of the desk tightly, mouth open as you pant heavily, trying your best not to scream. He greedily laps at your slit, sliding his tongue all over your aching hole as it clenches around nothing, but Henry makes sure to fill it with his finger and it makes you see stars. He hums into your pussy, sucking on your clit and thrusting his finger in and out of you. You arch and shiver pathetically, your brows furrowed as your face confronted in pure bliss. Henry fingers you slowly, making sure to prepare and stretch you out perfectly for his cock. Every lick sends ripples of sensation throughout your core, he knows damn well how to make his girl feel good.

“Tha-that feels so good, anngh. . .” you bite your lower lip till nearly blood as Henry makes out with your pussy, so fucking messy, but he looks like he's too drunk to care about you trying to push his head away from overwhelming pleasure. “waittt!” you feel so close, especially when he finger fucks you so slow and gently while pleasuring you with his tongue. “'m gonna cum, Hen—. . . Fuck!” Henry groans, pulling away only for some seconds just to spit on your sloppy cunt before attacking it with kisses again. You taste too sweet.

“Cum on my face, sweetheart,” he murmurs, incoherent as he never really stops eating you out. “be my good girl.” for a moment he flashes you a small smile and you almost whine from how hot he looks, his chin cowered in your slick and hair messy. You smile weakly in return and when he thrusts his finger deeper adding to that sloppy lick on your clit, you feel your orgasm approach you. You moan and you don't give a fuck how loud that sounds, but in secret Henry is damn happy as you let that fucking William know how good your man makes you feel.

Your head spinning as you breathe heavily, chest rising up and down when Henry looks at you with drunk face expression. He stands up and takes your face into his hands, giving you more possessive than soft kiss now, letting you taste yourself. That's filthy, too much, Henry isn't like that in other people's eyes. Only for you.

He trails his kisses down your neck and finally reaches your breasts, he kisses both, touch them and fondle them and groans at how perfectly they look in his big hands. Henry sucks on your nipples, all this time fucking your dripping pussy with his fingers, never wanting to hurt you with his size, he knows you're a big girl and you'll take him, but he prefers to avoid any kind of pain. He tries to relax you to maximum. But what he doesn't know is that you're already too needy and hungry for him, wanting something more than just his fingers.

“My sweet girl.” he calls you while he holds you by the waist and slides his cock all over your hole, his head full of thoughts of these freak stares William gave you this evening. He's soft and sweet with you, reminding you of a fluffy teddy bear, but what happens inside his head and how blood boils in his veins from insane jealousy - that's what you don't see and Henry thinks it's for the best, he'll never show that side to you. “so wet for me, want to feel that cock stretching this tiny pussy?” he literally goes feral at the thought of his cock filling you.

“Please, Henry, i need you,” you look into his eyes and your pathetic sight does something to him. Henry gets himself comfortable between your legs, he caresses your cheek as he can't stop looking at how pretty his leaking tip looks rubbing on your clit. He knows he must be gentle and he tries his fucking best.

Henry starts sliding inside you, all this time holding your waist and watching your face for any signs of pain. “Doing so well for me, sweetheart, just like that.” your eyes widen at unexpected feeling, it's not like you two never had sex, but every time he's inside it feels like new. You think you'll never get used to his size. You look at his dick filling you and your pussy clenches down around him as he buries himself deep inside you. Closing your eyes, you try to accommodate to that thickness inside you but not when you feel his thumb making its way to your nub. Henry rubs his thumb in slow, circular motions on your swollen clit as he continues filling your tight cunt. You moan softly beneath him; reaching to lay your hand on his, which working on your clit, while letting out a contented sigh. You two fall into a slow rhythm, each thrust drawing you deeper into your passion.

“Auhh— your so deep inside of me,” you throw your head back, whimpering loudly as every inch of Henry stretches your soppy pussy. Henry thrusts a little bit harder and your breasts bounce slightly which seems like a sweet invitation to him. He presses his lips to your nipple and pulls it, and then licks and sucks, groaning how good you feel.

“This little pussy taking me so well, you're such a good girl, honey,” Henry mutters as he starts thrusting a bit faster.

You throw your leg around him, pulling him deeper into yourself as you cry out for more; wanting to feel every inch and vein of his cock. He hides his face in your chest as he groans at your warmness and wetness around him, your juices making the most beautiful wet sounds as your bodies slap against each other.

“You feel so—” you choke on your own moans as Henry pumps his thick cock faster, you feel him twitching and throbbing inside of you. “awhhh fuck!”

“Just like that, princess,” his lips finds yours in hot kiss again, your eyes flutter closed. “look at you, taking me so well, all pretty and full of my cock. That's where your meant to be, honey, under your man, ughhh, being fucked nice and good. This little pussy, ogghh fuck!” his voice breaks into a loud moan when your cunt tightens once again at his dirty words. “this little pussy belongs to me.”

Your lovely eyes filled with sweet tears of pleasure. “love you, i— awhh, i love you, daddy!” Henry is used to you calling him that when you fuck, although you rarely do because you're still shy. But what you don't know is what effect that word has on him. He's literally going insane, and thank god Henry knows how to control himself, otherwise your pussy would be absolutely ruined right now. Henry doesn't know what he found in that word. Apparently, it still awakens something in him. No, of course, he loves his daughter very much, the only one, he cherishes her. Whenever he sees how much you care about her, he gets some. . . obsessive thoughts. But it feels so fucking right; the idea of expanding your family, watching you blossom into a mother. Would he like to give Charlie a brother or a sister?

Would he like to make you a mom?

Henry gets so lost in his dreams and fantasies that he doesn't even notice his crazy pace and your hot tears streaming down your cheeks, you look so beautiful it drives him crazy. You wrap your hands around his neck and bring his face closer, kissing him again. Kissing him like it's the last time. You hold him close to you and when Henry pulls away to moan again because of how amazing you feel, you press your lips against his forehead and give him soft kisses, asking him to go harder on you. Henry doesn't listen to you, you don't know what you're asking for. If he'll go harder on you. . . Henry sighs, slowing his thrusts. You don't wanna know what'll happen.

Your tight soft walls grip his cock as he bullies your insides, his hand moves down again and he circles your clit nicely and gentle. You rock your hips back and forth faster, desperate to cum, to feel him finishing inside you. Because Henry always pulled out before. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his tip reaches your cervix and you feel close, so fucking close especially with how he stimulates you using his fingers, rubbing and flicking your little clit. “dont p-pull out,” your tone nearly sounds like an order as you feel Henry ready to pull out. He freezes in place and looks at you, breathing heavily, confusion on his face. “want you to cum inside—” you barely finish your words as he plunges deep inside your pussy much rougher and harder than before, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

If he'll cum inside you, if he’ll get you pregnant, William will definitely notice it. He'll see that you're carrying Henry's baby under your heart. Henry thinks, what will be the reaction of everyone's beloved Mr. Afton? Anger, jealousy? Perhaps envy? William has such an envious nature. Henry's smiling, William has always been jealous of him. Henry have the best daughter in the world, the best girlfriend- almost a wife? Henry always takes the best.

“I'm close, sweetheart,” he tells you, his cock sinking deeper inside you and his fingers dug into the plush of your thighs, his thrusts messy, meanwhile you squirm and moan underneath him.

“Breed me— Ahhng, Henry, breed me!” you beg him and and that's the end for him, Henry fucking whimpers. His eyes squeezed shut, his body shaking and he can't control his loud groans as he spills deep inside of you. It feels too good to stop thrusting inside your cunt as he overstimulates both of you, you cumming on his cock while he fills you up, pumping you full of his cum. You grab on him when he pulls out a little. Watching his cum drip out of your little hole, he sighs and fucks it back in, not wanting any drop of him to ooze out of you.

“You're such a good girl, princess. . .” he whispers, kissing your nipples and holding you in his big hands. If Henry was a dirty pervert like William, he'd send you to William right now so he could fucking see his best friend's cum trickling down the inner side of your thighs. But Henry isn't like William and there's no way he'd do that to you. Probably only in his dirtiest and darkest fantasies.

#henry emily x reader #henry emily smut #henry emily #fnaf smut #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #fnaf imagine #william afton x reader

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