#i can’t eat because i feel sick. i feel sick because i haven’t eaten | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hariboz · 6 months

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PROMISE ME…!

“when you don’t tell your boyfriend you’re sick and still perform!”

pairing: idol!bf!ricky x gn!idol!reader

genre: fluff, tiny angst (?)

warning: mention of headaches, blurry vision, nausea and similar symptoms, softie bf!ricky, that’s it i think?

notes: ty to nonnie for requesting this!! i got a little carried away but i got into a pretty good flow writing it so i hope you enjoy 🥹🫶🏻 also!! this is my first time writing idol!reader so i hope it feels somewhat realistic…? as realistic as it can be i guess 😵‍💫

word count: 1.8k (😵‍💫 how and why…)

five, six, seven, eight.

five, six, seven—

“y/n, are you okay?” the voice of your leader rips you out of your trance, your tired eyes meeting in the mirror. you nod and put on a bright, although fake smile in hopes of being reassuring, though you’re not sure you were being all too convincing — either way, none of your members pry, because they understand. they understand the need to push through, especially now with all these end of the year award shows happening; you simply can’t afford to be sick, to fall behind and to be absent from such huge events. so, you decide to push through the dizziness, nausea and pain. you’ll take some medication later, it’ll be fine. (at least that’s what you’re telling yourself when you catch yourself stumbling from the dizziness when you get ready to practice your solo entrance.) even though there is a silent understanding between you and your members, there still is one person you know you won’t be able to convince, no matter how hard you’ll try — your boyfriend and professional overthinker in regards to your well-being, ricky.

it’s quite cute, the juxtaposition of his public image and the way he tends to worry. did you eat? does your throat hurt from vocal practice? did you trip during dance practice again? (a question that’s especially annoying considering you told him about tripping once, roughly six months ago. he refuses to let it go.) he sends you teas and throat sprays to make sure your voice is taken care of, secretly checks the soles of your shoes to make sure they aren’t getting slippery, somehow manages to pack you little snacks you can munch on when you haven’t eaten anything before practice again. he’s very rarely stern, much too soft-spoken and gentle towards you to speak to you in a more serious manner when he’s worried, so he shows his care and love through these things — which makes you feel all the more guilty when you straight up have to lie to him when he asks if practice is going fine, if you’re feeling well, and letting you know how excited he (along with gyuvin, he mentions) is to see you perform in person up close.

you try your hardest to get better before the performance, you really do. well, as much as you can between hours and hours of practice and barely any sleep, at least. all your efforts seem to be in vain, though, because the day of the performance seems to be the worst day yet — if you had a choice, you would bury yourself under every blanket available and not leave your bed for at least a week, that’s how awful you feel when you and your members are picked up from your dorm during the wee hours of the morning.

unfortunately, the little perfectionistic gremlin that lives at the back of your mind refuses to let all these weeks of practice go to waste, so you muster up a brave smile through your shaking pupils and tell your worrying members that you have everything under control — you’ll smash this performance just like all the other ones, even if you have to do it while being a little dizzy. it’s no big deal, you’re a professional after all.

your stylists is making some last minute adjustments to your outfits when a gentle knock sounds through the room, a very familiar blonde head of hair popping in. you rush over to ricky, his arms snaking around you immediately. “hey, handsome,” you mutter as you observe his face, a small grin playing on his lips. “you’re not looking to bad yourself, hm?” his voice is smooth as he brushes some of your hair out of your face, careful to not interfere with your hairstylist’s hard work. you’re thrown off your balance a little when another dizziness spell hits you out of nowhere, the look on ricky’s face immediately morphing into one of concern, “are you okay?”

you muster up a smile and just nod, eyes blinking rapidly to dispel the black dots bouncing around in your vision, “yeah, i’m just a little nervous,” you reach up to adjust his collar to avoid meeting his worried eyes, “i’m fine. just freaking out a little, that’s all.” you can tell ricky doesn’t entirely believe you, but he trusts that you would come to him if there was something wrong — so he reluctantly lets the subject go. he steals a quick kiss to your lips, whispering a “good luck, i love you.” before he turns to leave to make any last preparations for his own performance.

your first wave of regret overcomes you when you stand ready beneath the stage, you and your members getting into position to perform the intro to your performance. your head feels like it’s about to split and your hands are shaky, but it’s too late to turn back now — as queen sunmi once said, the show must go on.

your second wave of regret comes when you’re actually on stage, all the lights, the music, the screams and your in-ear monitor feeling less like the dream you’ve worked so hard to achieve and more like your own personal hell. your group having your own amazing entrance with one of the stage elevators excited you at first; unfortunately, right now you’re preoccupied with managing your expressions to make sure you won’t let any irritation or discomfort slip.

your third and final wave of regret comes when you stand in the middle of the stage in this massive venue, tens of thousands of eyes on you as you start to perform your solo part of the song — your head is pounding and you can barely hear your own voice through your in-ears anymore, your steps are shaky and imprecise, your vision is blurry. you manage to push through, somehow, but it’s clear in the way your chest is heaving once the lights go out that you’re not well.

the atmosphere is very much tense in the part of the audience where your fellow idols sit, all of them having to cover their very obvious concern with faux excitement — you pulled it off well enough, but it’s clear to every single one of them that you’re sick and that you probably should not have performed. ricky especially has to keep his expressions in check, because the mix of worry and concern but also frustration and maybe a little anger is raging heavily inside him right now.

the worry and concern are obvious, the last thing he wants to see is you being sick, much less performing in that state. the frustration is bubbling inside him because he knows that you know better, that even the chance of you hurting yourself even worse by performing while sick is enough reason to sit out one performance. the anger is entirely directed at your staff and maybe some of your members, your leader at least — they must’ve seen that you were unwell, no? and they still let you on stage? is that not what managers and leaders are for, to take matters into their own hands and to know what’s best for their members? it all comes to a head when your members join the other idols in the audience while you’re nowhere in sight.

ricky is getting restless, his hands sprawling against his dress pants, occasionally pinching the fabric to keep his mind occupied. gyuvin and matthew both gave him little reassuring pats on his back but neither did much to comfort him, his mind entirely preoccupied with worrying about you and counting down the minutes to when he will finally be able to check up on you backstage.

it’s about an hour later when the award show is finally over, and for once ricky is the first one to rush backstage, a little ahead of all of his members. he swerves past staff and security and doesn’t even bother knocking on your group’s dressing room, ripping the door open to find your shocked but still very exhausted eyes staring up at him in surprise, “ricky?”

he’s in front of you in the blink of an eye, squatting down to meet you eye-to-eye, his hands gently cradling your face, “are you okay? for real, this time?” his brows are furrowed and you feel a little bad for thinking that he looks pretty handsome all serious like this. you nod sheepishly, apology ready to spill from your lips when he squishes your cheeks together to silence you, “shhh, you listen to me. never do that again, okay? do you know how scary that was, watching you perform like that? what if something had happened, you know you could’ve—,” he stumbles over his words a little, clearly worked up, “i don’t know, fallen off stage or something. you could’ve fainted! or you could’ve broken something or— i don’t know, just, promise me, don’t do that again.” ricky’s once so stern voice turns soft towards the end again, never really able to keep up his serious tone for long, especially towards you.

“‘m sorry, just didn’t want to let anyone down,” you mumble, leaning into his touch. his cold hands on your face feel incredibly nice, a stark contrast to your feverish face. he sighs and one of his hands comes up to brush your hair away from your face, his hand stroking your head softly, “i know, but still. don’t do stuff like that, okay? talk to someone when you’re not feeling well. your managers, your members, me — there’s so many people you can go to, okay? anyone, as long as you tell someone,” you nod along to him, and maybe it’s the guilt of making him worry so much or the fact that you’re overwhelmed from the amount of affection coming from him while you’re still a little delirious, but you feel like you need to lighten the atmosphere with a little joke.

“even gyuvin?” the gentle expression on his face falls almost immediately, replaced by a very unimpressed stare. you break out into quiet giggles, muttering a “sorry” before pressing a kiss to his cheek. ricky grumbles a little before getting back up, running his hand through your hair gently one last time. “i have to go back now but i’m ordering you some soup to your dorm later. you’re on bedrest for the next few days, you hear me?” he tries to sound stern again and puts on his best serious face, but his façade is broken when you smile up at him so tiredly, the exhaustion clear on your face.

“thank you, i love you,” you call after him when he turns to leave, ricky sending you a flying kiss before leaving the room, “love you too.”

(your fourth wave of regret came when you realised ricky formed an alliance with your members, all of them exchanging “y/n intel” to make sure all of them can keep an eye on you while you’re recovering.)

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blue-jisungs · 7 months

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complete opposite

author's note. here it goes,, finally finished it after having it rot in my drafts for a month grrrrr … also, this one is for the biggest joshu stans i know, @fairyhaos and @slytherinshua <3

summary. you get scared of how joshua will react to bad news, joshua gets scared of how you’re acting… turns out is all a complete opposite of the other one was thinking

genre. fluff but also kinda angst? hurt to comfort me thinks

word count. 2269 hehe

warnings. swearing, mention of throwing up, feeling sick, having intimate relations with joshua but nothing explicit!! reader is overthinking a lot :(

heart thumping in your chest, you stared at your friend in disbelief. rina squeezed your hand and tucked a hair that has fallen on your face.

“i’ll drive you home, okay?” she hummed and stood up, placing a peck on your forehead “stay here”

you nodded weakily, your stomach going crazy. you watched her silhouette disappear and massaged your temples.

when you woke up today, joshua was already gone. he texted you good morning and informed that he’ll probably come home late at night. but then you felt unwell. ignoring it, you decided to eat breakfast and go to work.

which was a mistake. you barely arrived and already run to the toilet, returning your stomach’s contents. rina was already here so she helped you, handing you some water and meds. just when you thought you’re fine, mid-convo with a customer you turned pale again and your stomach was making turns and somersaults.

you bet it was the fish you ate yesterday. you were out with joshu to some kind of a fancy restaurant. lately you’ve been craving fish so you decided, why not. well apparently it wasn’t a great idea.

“okay, let’s go. just please try not to vomit all over my car” rina giggled and helped you stand up. you felt weak, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. rina bit her lip and led you to her car. “i need to pick up one thing on the way but maybe try taking a nap? should i call your boyfriend?”

“no, no. he’s really busy today” you sighed, secretly wishing he’d be there for you.

in no time you were home, rina walking you to the door. suddenly she handed you a few boxes of… pregnancy tests.

“what…” you laughed, looking at her shocked.

“you… look, i need to go back to work but my sister was pregnant a while ago. and her symptoms were similar. and your period is running late, isn’t it? you still haven’t eaten the chocolate from the cabinet at work” rina said softly, looking at your widened eyes “just… make sure. and call me, okay? if you feel worse or better, doesn’t matter. i’ll pick up whenever i can”

“i… you’re being a bit dramatic with the tests. but thank you. i owe you” you smiled. she nodded and gave you a quick hug before rushing back to work.

you entered your and joshua’s apartment, heart wild in your chest. sure, your period was late. but… no, that’s not right.

feeling a unpleasant sensation bubbling up in your throat once again, head spinning, you ran to the bathroom. throwing the boxes on the counter you accidentally knocked some things over. you knelt down and for another time this day, threw up.

taking deep breaths you weakly grabbed the pink box. scanning the stupid imagine of a stupid woman with a stupid baby bump you decided to try. what’s the worse thing that could happen anyways. you’re not pregnant, it’s just the fish. you and joshua always use protection and you’re always safe. right?

you paced around the bathroom, nervously putting away stuff in different places while waiting for the outcome. it’s not it. can’t be. logically – can’t be. physically–

you peeked at the stick.

two lines.

“fuck”

your heart thumped in your chest, ready to rip out from your rib cage and go for a walk. or jog.

“no, it’s not right…”

you spent half of the day testing the other pregnancy tests. because what if it’s just a malfunction? or if one brand has two lines for positive and the other for negative? you had to be sure.

and sure you were when all of them turned out to be positive.

your bathroom looked like war zone, everything turned upside down all over the place.

walking into the kitchen on wobbly legs, your head felt like it was about to explode.

you’re pregnant.

joshua is going to kill you. well, no. not really. but it will kill him.

you never talked about it. sure, he said he wanted to marry you one day but… but he’s an idol. he’s busy. maybe he doesn’t even want kids?

when some rumours floated around about your relationship… it killed him. some carats went crazy, not in a positive way. joshua was really going through it and now… relationship is not as a big of a problem as pregnancy. oh my god, carats are going to kill you. and the baby.

you don’t want to ruin his career. he worked so hard and loved what he did and now… now it’s about to fall apart like a house of cards triggered by a slight gust of wind.

tears dwelled in your eyes, throat tightening. joshua will hate you, that’s for sure. yes, he loved you but a kid… those are different circumstances, choices… way of living.

he will hate you and dump you. that’s for sure.

unless… unless you do it first.

no.

be rational.

he won’t, right?

the room felt like it was about to swallow you. all the pictures with joshua, your joshu. his ebony irises that you loved oh so much stared at you from the pictures. as if judging you.

you had to get out from here.

rushing to the bathroom, you tore all the boxes with the tests and flushed them down the toilet. then you threw all the tests into a plastic bag and then hid them under the sink. joshua never looks there. like that one time when you spent all day looking for something you lost and–

stop.

you took the keys and stormed out of your apartment, the need of fresh air almost suffocating you. you’ll be back before he gets home.

joshua pushed the door open, limbs feeling as if ready to fall apart any second. he just dreamed about changing his pyjamas and falling asleep in your arms.

it was late so he figured he won’t announce he’s here, like he always does. leaving his bag by the entrance, joshua stretched lazily.

he entered the bedroom and halted. the bed was empty.

“that’s weird…” he mumbled. maybe you’re in the bathroom? joshua grabbed his pyjama and decided to go check the bathroom.

if he was surprised that you weren’t in the bedroom, the bathroom left him speechless.

not only you weren’t there, like he thought you’d be. the room looked like a tornado passed through it.

everything was scattered around, as if knocked over; all over the place.

“y/n?” joshua called out, dropping the pyjamas. rushing to get his back to grab his phone, his throat went dry. it’s almost midnight and you’re not home. if you were going out with your girl friends, he’d know. he wouldn’t forget. so why you’re not home?

dialling your number, he noticed there’s no texts from you either. which was concerning too… you’d text him if you were going out somewhere. especially at this hour. and considering how cold it was…

the silence in the house was frightening. joshua didn’t like this one bit. suddenly he heard buzzing and his heart came up to his throat. your phone is home.

you left without taking your phone…?

joshua ran his hand through his hair. he has to stay calm.

he gulped and called your best friend from work. it was dumb, especially at this hour. but rina picked up immediately, even though voice w bit raspy and tired.

“hi joshua. is everything alright with y/n? i’ve been worried sick for the whole day–“ her voice was almost desperate for an answer.

“there was something wrong? i just came home and she’s not here… and, and she didn’t take her phone– i don’t know what’s happening” joshua whispered, feeling how his stomach drops.

“fuck”

“okay… okay… let’s stay calm. she… maybe she went to get some groceries?” rina breathed out “fuck, i shouldn’t leave her alone. is my fault… i…”

“hey, no, don’t say that. what even happened?” joshua asked and switched the light on. he’ll wait until you’re back. rina hesitated – if it was what she thinks it is, she doesn’t want to be the one passing the news.

“she felt unwell at work… and i drove her home but i had to go back… i should’ve stayed with her” rina mumbled.

suddenly there was a soft click of the door opening. joshua jolted, eyes turning into that direction.

you appeared in the doorway, your face catching his gaze. you were crying.

“rina, she’s here. don’t need to worry” he spoke softly. joshua noticed how scared you look. scared, tired and… guilty

“oh thank god. warn her that i’ll whoop her ass in work tomorrow” your grind let out a nervous laugh but she certainly sounded relieved “good night”

“good night” joshua whispered and hang up.

the silence was speaking volumes.

you slowly took off your shoes and sighed. opening your mouth to say something and then closing them again.

“if you wanted to go out, you should’ve taken a jacket” he said softly; there was no poisoned sarcasm in his voice, only genuine worry. you nodded weakly and played with your fingers.

“i…” your voice broke, eyes avoiding his.

joshua stood up and started boiling some water to mar you tea. you sat down on the couch, putting your bag close to you; hands gripping your knees.

for a moment it was peaceful, as if the world wasn’t about to fall apart in mere moments. just you, joshua and the sounds of boiling water.

in no time he returned, placing the cup on the table. then he looked at you, anxiety filling his heart.

“did something happen?” joshua asked. for the first time in ages he was unsure what to do. should he hold your hand? you didn’t look like you wanted to but on the other hand…

you shook your head gently, tears gathering at the edge of your waterline. your throat went dry and you felt like you weren’t able to physically speak out.

“i saw the bathroom, it looks like a mess. you scared me” he let out a soft chuckle, scanning your reaction.

nothing.

your fingers traced shapes absentmindedly on your knee, eyes distant.

“angel?” he asked, concern growing in his voice. only after you took a deep breather and let it out as a shaky sigh, you started. now or never.

“you’ll hate me” you mumbled and were met with a scoff. scared, you looked up at him. joshua was smiling softly, unaware of what he was about to learn.

“y/nnie, i’d never hate you” the smile wrinkles that you loved so much appeared around his eyes. your lip quivered and you looked away

“you will. i’m so… i’m sorry joshua” your voice cracked “i ruined your career”

“what are you talking about, silly?” joshua laughed nervously.

you just shook your head, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks. in a blink of an eye you started harshly sobbing, breathing getting hard to breathe.

joshua rushed and hugged you tightly, petting your hair. even though he hated that such thought crossed his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder what did you mean: did you cheat–

“i’m so fucking sorry” you whined, pulling away from him. then you reached to your bag and turned it upside down, causing its content to fall on the couch.

“what do you…” joshua’s voice died in his throat, your crying only getting more intense when you saw his reaction.

he reached to grab one of the white and pink sticks. two red lines.

then he looked at another one. two red lines.

the other one he grabbed has a blue plus drawn.

rummaging through all of them, mouth agape, he felt as if knocked the air out of his lungs.

no, not because you were pregnant (well, this too). because of your reaction. you thought he’ll hate you? that you ruined his career? that…

“oh y/n” his voice broke, grabbing your face in his hands. your quivering lip and wet eyelashes made his heart clench but it was hard for him to resist a smile “how could i… i’m…”

“i’m sorry! we never really talked about this before and… and i know that we’re not that young but your career is blooming and… and–“ you mumbled, voice becoming whiny and hard to control. why is he smiling, by the way…?

“y/n, please take a breath, okay?” he asked gently, caressing your wet cheeks “i would never have thought that… you’re going to panic thinking about my reaction”

you took a deep breath and blinked slowly. why; why in hell he’s so calm?! isn’t he going to–

“i’m going to be a father” he breathed out, his own eyes tearing up too “and you’ll be the mother, y/n. that’s… that’s something i could never dream of but i also always wanted…”

“w-what?” you asked and he shook his head, grinning with pearly tears blinking at the edge of his waterline.

“i love you so so much. i’m… speechless. and above all, so… so happy” he sniffled.

his reaction was… complete opposite of what you thought it would be. you felt as if a huge stone just dropped from your heart, relief washing over you. suddenly you put your hands on top of his and pulled him into a kiss.

lips connected and tears falling down your cheeks, joshua felt like all of this was unreal. pulling away, he rested his forehead against yours.

“i’ll be a dad” a faint whisper left his mouth as you wiped his cheek with a loving smile.

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @jiwuu ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth

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pparadiselost · 7 months

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crying wolf.

werewolf michael kaiser x red riding hood fem reader clichés always hold a grain of truth to them. warning(s): nsfw, noncon, murder of an uninvolved character, breeding, knotting minors do not interact.

a big bad wolf lives in the woods near your village.

that much you know.

the wolf has been the talk of the town for years now, and no matter how many men set off to kill the wolf or how many traps had been set up to catch it once and for all, the sly beast always managed to escape the trickery of your town.

there came a point where you stopped caring about it. you had no reason to step into the woods, satisfied with your quiet life in town, and outside of the stray sheep being killed and eaten every few months, the wolf really didn’t do anything to disturb your quality of life. it must suck to be a sheep farmer while this was all going down, but you weren’t a sheep farmer, so you didn’t care.

“you ought to be more careful!” the old cheesemonger’s wife scolds you as she hands you a generous chunk of cheese. “you know, the huntsmen are saying that they’re going to form an escort group in about a week’s time. shouldn’t you wait until then to go visit your grandma?”

you shake your head. “mama said i should go as soon as possible. grandma hasn’t been feeling well for a while, and ever since the whole wolf scare, we haven’t been able to visit her frequently. i just want to make sure she has enough food, because she can’t really do much herself.”

the old wife clicks her tongue and waggles her finger. “i keep telling my husband here, they really ought to catch that wolf quickly. this is how these things always begin. a couple sheep here and there, and next thing you know, the wolf’s run off with a toddler. who’s to say it won’t develop an appetite for a pretty girl like you?”

“oh, please.” you snort slightly. “the only things with an appetite for women like me are the drunkard sleazebags that waste their money away in the taverns.”

“well, you can say that again,” she laughs. she winks as she tucks you an extra slice of sweet cheese into your basket, and she waves you off before you finish off your errands and head home.

the chilled autumn breeze nips at your skin, and you huddle under the red cape your mother’s lovingly sewn for you. it’s become your best friend when winter starts to draw close, and you’ve worn the garment for years. you’re sure you’ll wear it in due time when you’ll set out through the woods to your grandmother’s, where the bright crimson ought to serve as an identifying beacon of sorts for your ailing grandmother.

the sun threatens to set in the distance by the time you gather up all your supplies and head to the outskirts of the village, where your home is. you double check the contents of your basket at your front door, not wanting your mother to scold you for having forgotten anything.

a bottle of hearty wine? check. loaves of bread that won’t go bad soon? check. cheese, meats, and fruits? check.

“i’m home!” you called out, swinging your front door open. your mother jumps and places a hand over her heart, exhaling deeply when she notices it’s just you.

“you scared the wits out of me, dear!” she scolds, stirring intensely at the pot in front of her. “a knock before you come in wouldn’t hurt, you know!”

“says the person who leaves the front door unlocked.” you toss your boots off and hang your cloak up, and you set down the heavy basket on the already set dining table. you swing in to a seat at the table, stomach growling at the scent of fresh stew. “i got everything for grandma tomorrow. is there anything else you need me to bring to her?”

“do you think i should pack some jam for her? i have a few jars that mr. ah… what’s his name again- well, he gave me some because his sister had made too much, and i reckon that your grandmother wouldn’t have too many sweet things to eat while she’s sick,” your mother suggests. you shrug, and she wipes her hands down on her apron before grabbing at the pot’s handle. “stay put where you are, dear. hot pot coming through!”

“i don't think it'll hurt. might as well bring it over if i’m headed there in the first place,” you offered. your mother smiles at you fondly as you practically lunge for the pot, spoon in hand to scarf down a well-deserved meal.

“slow down, or you’ll get a tummy ache,” she reminds you. you swipe at your mouth with your sleeve, earning a wince from her, but she doesn’t say anything. the night quickly melts away into the everyday hum of dinner followed by a quick berry pie dessert.

you haven’t even thought of the wolf until your mother tells you to go fetch the rest of the laundry she forgot to get earlier in the day. you balance a laundry basket on your hip as you drag your feet outside, wishing you were snuggled up in your bed with a book instead. the cold wind bites at your exposed neck and face, and you scowl as you haphazardly yank at the clothes and socks hung up on the laundry line.

“stupid wind,” you grumble under your breath. you stuff some shirts into the laundry basket, but when you reach to grab at the last pair of socks on the line, the wind tussles it free from the clothing pin and the socks go flying off in the distance. you let out a yelp before running after it, watching the white socks flutter like a pair of doves before landing onto the dirt.

“stupid, stupid wind!” you doubly curse as you bend down, yanking your nightclothes up so that the hem won’t be stained by the dirt. you reach to grab the socks before something in the ground catches your eye, and you shift to take a closer look.

your eyes widen in horror.

pawprints. wolf pawprints.

you shudder and quickly stand up, racing back to the safety of your laundry line and basket. the cursed beast must have been wandering around the wilderness near your home. a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of some stinky mutt of a wolf sniffing at your laundry, and once you see that there are no more clothes left on the line, you march back home and shut the door firmly behind you.

you have nothing to fear. you’re no sheep and definitely not meal material for the big bad wolf. you don’t even bring up the pawprints to your mother once you’re inside, and you don’t even think of the wolf again when you go to bed, bracing yourself for the long journey to your grandmother’s cottage tomorrow.

…

“do you have everything?”

“yes, mama.”

“are your boots comfortable?”

“yes, mama.”

“will the cloak be enough to keep you warm?”

“yes, mama.”

you swear the entire day’s going to be over by the time your mother’s done fretting over you. she’s not only gone over the contents of your basket once, twice, thrice, four goddamn times, and she’s still convinced that somehow she magically forgot to add everything to it. she keeps fretting over you, pulling the cloak tighter around your throat and making sure the hood covers your head comfortably.

deep down, you know she means well, but she keeps fussing over you like you’re a newborn baby. you’re old enough to take care of yourself, old enough to know how the world runs, old enough to stand on your own two feet without having her circling you like some kind of anxious mama bear. which she is, you suppose.

she kisses your forehead gently, looking at you with the weathered affectionate eyes only a mother could ever muster up. “i know you’re sick of me worrying over you like this. i can’t help it—you’re my baby.”

“i’ll be back before you even know it, mama,” you joke back. “and if i’m not back by dinner, you can assume i’ll be at grandma’s for the night. either way, i’ll be back by tomorrow for sure.”

“i’ll be waiting for you,” your mother promises. she clasps your hands, rubbing her calloused palms over yours. she squeezes your fingers carefully, grinning at you despite her obvious nerves. “my baby’s all grown up! going through the woods by herself and everything… what am i going to do when you actually leave the nest?”

“oh, you’ll be fine.” you hoist the heavy basket up, flashing your mother a thumbs-up. “i’ll be on my way then. i shouldn’t dally around too much, or it’ll get late.”

“right, right. i guess i’ll bake something to pass the time while you’re gone. maybe making your favorite pie ought to incentivize you to come home faster!” she agrees with a hearty laugh. you’re just about to turn around and set off before your mother cries out a panicked “wait!”

you look over your shoulder. “huh? what is it, mama?”

“i know this is probably just me fretting,” she looks at you firmly, and she wrings her hands slightly, “but it’s better safe than sorry. make sure to never wander from the main road, okay? you’ve heard about the wolf that’s been terrorizing our village. i don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

you’d snark back at her a bit normally, but the pure fear in your mother’s eyes makes you bite your tongue for once. “i’ll stay strictly on the path, mama. besides, the wolf’s never taken a human before. and i’m sure there’ll be huntsmen and all sorts of other people out and about at this time of day, so i’ll be okay.”

“i know,” she sighs. “it’s a mother’s instinct. i can’t help but fret over you constantly.”

she waves you off, and you’re on the path to your grandmother’s before you even know it. the weather today is perfect: brisk refreshing air, a few cotton-white clouds in the bright blue sky, and the mischievous twinkles of sunlight streaming through forest trees’ branches.

truth be told, you like these solo adventures more than anything else in the world. living a quiet life in your village has its perks, but when everyone knows everybody, you rarely get a chance to set out by yourself without the scrutiny of your entire town on your back. you hum a little song while you skip through the beaten path in the woods, savoring the solitude. it shouldn’t take you more than a few hours to make the round trip, save for a quick lunch break in the middle and maybe a snack for the road at your grandmother’s abode.

you couldn’t be happier right now. the basket swings from the crook of your arm as you stroll through the woods, admiring the wilderness. a pair of butterflies flutter every now and then, and you can make out the melodic warbles of birdsong. you wonder if it’s mating season for the creatures; the closest you ever got to romance were the fairy tales in your book (your mother’s old hand-me-downs, from when she lived in the port city before moving her to marry your now-absent father) or the occasional wedding that took place in your village (the last one was 7 years ago, when the wheat grinder’s daughter married the postman. you pressed the flowers from your corsage between the pages of a heavy dictionary).

either way, you wish your village had more to show a young woman like yourself. everyone seems happy living their rustic life, and while you were satisfied with the peace that your mother strove so hard to provide you with, you knew that the world had more to show you.

and you crave it. just as the horizon of the woods seems to stretch on forever and ever, you wonder if there’s something beyond it just waiting for you.

maybe there ought to be a great marble castle, blinding white in the distance, complete with a prince charming inside atop his great steed. or maybe big markets with all sorts of treasures from afar! sometimes when a stray merchant stumbles across your town, you’d eavesdrop on the stories they’d tell to the little kids (you always dreamed about tasting the delicious spices they bragged about. cinnamon, was it? oh, that sounded fabulous).

but instead, you’re stuck with this bumfuck, hillbilly country town. there aren’t even any good looking guys here, and you know it’ll take at least a decade to convince your mother to let you move out away from the safety of her arms. the height of gossip here is a stupid wolf running around the woods. your village is so boring that they can’t even find a human to gossip about.

sweat dots your brow once you’re a good way into your journey. parts of the woods clear out into patches of grass or the sporadic lake, and your stomach starts growling slightly. you debate pushing yourself a bit further before you decide otherwise—your mother had packed you a delicious lunch, and it wouldn’t hurt to give your feet a quick break while you wolfed it down.

you scan the nearby woods for a clearing you could sit at, and after a few more feet of walking, you’re greeted with what looks like a meadow of wildflowers in the distance. you keep your eye on the main path before plopping down on the side of the beaten track, leaning your back against a tall tree.

‘lunchtime, lunchtime,’ you excitedly think to yourself as you peel back the cover of your basket. in the corner, all wrapped up, is a pair of sandwiches, a bottle of water, and a whole apple that your mother has prepared for you. the bright noon sun above your head indicates to you that it's the perfect time for lunch, and you lick your lips as you unwrap the sandwiches.

you go to town on your food. you have to force yourself to slow down a bit so you won’t choke on your food, and you listen to the back-and-forth of bird calls as you savor the taste of tasty bread. the crisp tanginess of the apple is welcomed by your tongue after you finish your sandwiches, and you chew thoughtlessly.

crunch.

‘hm?’ you don’t even move when the sound of rustling comes from behind you. it’s probably a deer or something. the sound of rustling wasn’t uncommon this deep into the woods, and huntsmen often told stories about daring foxes or squirrels that would venture close to the tracks to fight over scraps that other travelers had dropped.

crunch.

you swallow down the final bite of your apple, inwardly wishing you had more. you dangle the core in between your fingers, and you wonder if you should toss it into the woods. yeah, that wouldn’t be too bad, right?

crunch.

the birds could pick at it for a bit, and then maybe the bugs could enjoy the sweet treat. what use would you have for an apple core? you stand up, dusting yourself off the best you can, and without looking too far into the woods, you rev up your arm and throwing the apple core as far as you can into the trees with as much force as you can muster-

-only to hit something square on with the apple core.

you blanche. what did you just hit? you weren’t looking too closely, and you had expected the apple core to unceremoniously fall somewhere on the ground and be forgotten. but instead, something of considerable size lurks in the woods, and you hold your breath as you haphazardly grab your basket and your cloak, getting ready to run for it.

“ow…,” a boyish voice whimpers.

huh??? you freeze in your place, confusion flickering through your brain as a shadowy figure rustles around the place you had tossed the apple. a voice? you hadn’t expected that. you were supposed to be the only person here.

did you accidentally hit a wandering huntsman on accident?

“w-who’s there?” you call out. “come out and show yourself!”

“i was trying to-,” the voice grumbles. you hear footsteps and the crunching of breaking branches and leaves, and you keep your distance from the voice. the figure shifts closer to you. “-before you hit me in the face with your leftovers.”

your breath stops just short in your throat when you see a young boy around your age step out into the light. you clearly look confused—you’ve never seen him before, and no one’s mentioned anything about a boy this deep into the woods.

“who are you?” you ask, your own voice hushed. “i’ve never seen you before.”

“i should be asking you that,” he huffs. he folds his hands over his chest, and he pouts. “i want to know about you first.”

“i live in the village.” you point the way you came, down the path. you make the wise decision to casually leave out your name and any other important information you can. “are you from there too?”

he shakes his head. “i live in the woods.”

the woods! you’d never heard of anyone living in the woods. it was pure wilderness, dangerous and scary, no less for someone who wasn’t even a veteran wilderness expert! for someone that lived in the woods, the boy looks surprisingly well groomed. his long blond hair pools over his shoulder and down his chest, and it looks clean and well maintained. his cheeks are rosy and pink, and his bright blue eyes stare you down with a kind of pride you’ve never seen before.

“that’s dangerous, you know,” you point out. “there’s a wolf that's been running around these parts lately. it’s not safe for you to be out here all alone.”

he raises an eyebrow. “a wolf, huh?”

“yeah! it’s been killing sheep in my village. everyone’s been talking about it,” you remark. “i’d take you back to my village if i could, but i can’t.”

“i’m not welcome there,” he coldly remarks. his eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s leering at you. “besides, i wouldn’t want to live in a stupid village anyway. i’m happier on my own. everyone else and their stupidity would make me mad.”

annoyance shoots through you, and you shrug. “suit yourself. i can’t force you to go if you don’t want to. but i’d rather not have blood on my hands.”

“blood on your hands, huh?” the blond boy steps closer to you. “where are you headed to?”

“why do you want to know?”

“because it’s not often that i see a girl wandering around this deep by herself. you said it yourself: it’s dangerous out here.”

you hold your ground as he steps closer, circling around you. he’s tall when he stands at full height, almost enough to rival some of the tallest men in your village. his body is toned, most likely from living in pure wilderness for however long he has, and despite the lighthearted banter between the two of you, something in your gut swirls with anxiety when he prowls around like a wild animal.

“i’m headed somewhere,” you answer vaguely. “i have some stuff i gotta deliver.”

“and it’s that way, isn’t it? opposite your village?” he approaches closer, and you whimper when he sniffs at your ear. “lemme guess… that old lady’s house on the other side?”

your stomach drops. the boy grins, his sharp canines on full display when he sees the awestruck look on your face.

“bingo! you smell like her,” he laughs easily. “that’s a long journey for a pretty girl like you.”

you pull your cloak closer to yourself, instinctively wanting to shield yourself from the strange boy. “that’s enough! i’m going to get going.”

“sure, sure.” he sends you off, still grinning like he’s won some grand prize. “be careful out there though, darling.”

he cocks his head, watching you as you start running away from him. the blond smirks to himself, your sweet scent still clinging to his nose as your silhouette flickers from his view and then disappears into the distance.

“a wolf, huh?” he murmurs. he sounds amused, still thinking about the flabbergasted expressions on your face. something inside of him stirs sinisterly.

he’s hungry, he decides.

and suddenly, sheep meat doesn’t sound as appetizing anymore.

…

horror weighs on your heart like a brick thrown into a pond. it ripples and quivers violently, forming merciless waves that spread out, swallowing up anything in its path and leaving things warped in its wake.

your grandmother’s house is trashed. the windows are smashed in, and the front door is broken. your heart hammers in a panic, and your mouth goes dry. your pupils shake as you stand a distance away from the house.

your mind is blank. what happened? robbers? wild animals? a murderer?

you know deep down in your heart that the correct thing to do is turn on your heel and run, run until you find someone else, run until another person could take care of the issue for you. but your feet stay glued to the ground, and your thoughts swirl over with terrifying ideas.

your grandmother is inside! she’s a weak, defenseless lady, practically confined to her bed because of her old age and her illness… there was virtually nothing she could do to defend herself if anyone attacked her.

what if you were already too late?

“g-grandma…!” you cry out. your basket bounces next to you as you run into the house, tears clouding over your vision. the house seems too big, like it’s swallowing you up without the safety of your grandmother. the inside of the cottage looks just like the outside. furniture overturned, big claw marks etched into the walls, and absolutely no sign of your beloved grandmother.

your blood turns cold at the claw marks.

was it the wolf?

“grandma, if you can hear me, say something…!” you whisper, too scared to raise your voice properly. “o-or move something! grandma, you’re in here, right?”

your body trembles uncontrollably. the only room remaining that isn’t within clear sight is your grandmother’s bedroom. your gut tells you to leave immediately. you don’t want to go in there, but you have to. who’s going to help your grandmother if not for you? what if by the time you ran away and brought other people, it was too late for her?

your steps echo throughout the ruined house like the toll of church bells, and you press your lips into a thin line. you reach out for the door, which, despite its dilapidated state, somehow managed to stay partially attached to the hinges. you push, forcing your head to quit spinning from your fear.

“we meet again, darling!”

your heart drops to the ground. blood paints what seems like every inch of the room, and you immediately stumble backwards, tripping over your own feet and landing like a sack of potatoes onto the ground.

‘move…!’ your brain screams at your body. ‘get up and move!’

but you can’t. the scene unfurling in front of your eyes makes your limbs feel like they were made of lead. you can’t bring yourself to do anything. you can’t crawl, can’t scream, can’t do anything except stare back up at the blood-drenched young man that looms above you with a wolfish smile.

he licks his lips. he looks exactly as he did in the woods. tall, with long blond hair and dazzling blue eyes. except this time, there’s a pair of pointed wolf ears that sprout from the top of his head and a bushy tail in between his legs. he’s splashed with crimson, and his mouth is smeared the deepest red.

“see, i knew this was where you were headed to,” he laughs. “are you looking for the old lady that was in here? sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but i think i was a step ahead of you.”

you can’t bring yourself to breathe.

“you- you’re the wolf…,” you choke out. the smug smirk never leaves the boy’s face as he leers down at you, and another wave of pure dread drops like a deadweight into your stomach when he nods.

“about time you pieced it together, stupid girl.” the boy clicks his tongue mockingly. “i always watched that stupid village of yours get their panties all in a twist trying to catch me. i mean, human or not, did you guys really think you’d catch anything with stupid traps like that?”

you raise your arms instinctively when he leans down. “please don’t kill me…! i won’t say anything- please don’t eat me!”

he pauses, and he takes a long inhale. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself from the crunch of your bones under his sharp teeth, and for the smell of your blood to fill the room. this is it. this is how you die. another victim to the weird werewolf that had terrorized your town for god-knows-how-long, gobbled up mercilessly in the same way the boy had devoured your poor, helpless grandmother.

he laughs again, and you shudder. you tentatively peel your eyes open, only to scream when you see yourself at eye-level with him.

“did you think i was going to eat you too? nah, i’m not gonna do that to you. i’ve had my fill with that bony old grandma of yours.” he grabs your wrist, and you yelp when pain shoots up your arm. he yanks you up to your feet, and you shakily lean against him when he drags you into the heart of the scene of the crime. you don’t want to look at all the blood splattered against your now-dead grandmother’s bedroom, and the boy flings you like a ragdoll onto her bed.

he looks so monstrous, towering over your cowering form. in every other way, he looks like a normal human, like any other boy you’d see frolicking in your hometown, but his animalistic features betray him. the gleam in his eyes mark him as unmistakably a ruthless predator, and your heart feels like it's going to give out.

“what are you going to do to me?” you eke out. “are you going to take me hostage?”

“hostage? for what? do i look like the kind of person to bargain with stupid humans?” he snorts, and when he shakes his head at your foolishness, his long hair tumbles over his broad shoulders. you look like a deer caught in headlights as he clambers onto the bed, and he presses a hand on either side of your face as he cages you in between his body and the mattress.

he’s smiling, but you can’t detect any trace of goodwill or kindness on his face. “do you really want to know what i’m going to do with you, my darling?”

you didn’t know how to respond. he leans down to your level, and you whimper when you can smell the stench of blood and death on his mouth. despite this, he presses his lips against the outline of your jaw, and you quiver underneath the boy as his tongue darts out to lick at your skin.

“i’m going to make you my mate.”

your head feels like it’s caving in.

“what-?” you flinch. “no- no, no- nonono- you can’t do that… i can’t- no, i can’t do that! i can’t be your mate…!”

he narrows his eyes, yet his lips never leave your face. he keeps kissing you greedily, and you push at him to no avail, unable to wrench his heavier, stronger body off of you. you start sobbing and crying out, yet the boy pays no attention to you as his mouth tastes your skin like a starved man.

“be good, or i’ll force you. you wouldn’t want that, would you? i don’t want to hurt a pretty thing like you,” he hisses. you sniffle and swallow back your oncoming sobs and you avert your eyes.

“i promise i’ll be gentle. besides, i’m way better looking than any of the men in your village,” he attempts to cheer you up. “c’mon. look at me. isn’t something like this more exciting than a drab country wedding? i’ll treat you like a princess. just love me, darling. does it matter if i’m a wolf or not?”

“you’re a wolf that kills! i don’t want to be with someone like you!”

he frowns, and his hands move to your cloak. your heart pounds painfully against your chest as his fingers twist at the material. your mother’s painstaking handiwork dissolves like sugar in water under his grip, and you know moving to defend yourself is futile. he quickly shreds your clothes as you cry quietly.

“you would do this too, if you were me.” his fingers trace over the bare skin of your collarbones and dip towards your breasts. his hands are sticky and warm against the chill of your body, and he cups your chest. it’s insane, how well your body fits into his big palms. he watches you with lust-stricken eyes, and his cock strains against his pants when he sees your tears wetting your pretty face and you laying there underneath him, not bothering to fight him off.

he knows. he knows you’re being obedient out of fear rather than true submission, but it’s good enough for him.

“i’m lonely,” he whispers. “you don’t know how it feels. having to kill to live. having to stay in the shadows. having to always yearn from afar because all of those stupid humans can’t see that i’m more similar to them than i am different.”

“t-that’s no reason to ruin my life…!” you protest. it’s a last ditch effort, but you shakily inhale anyway. “please… let me go. we can pretend like none of this happened. i promise i won’t tell anyone anything. i’ll give you my word. just… i can’t be a wolf’s wife- i can’t- i can’t do that-”

he shakes his head. “i want you. you talked to me in the forest. offered me help. treated me like a normal boy my age. i was too scared, so i hid my ears and tail, and you were none the wiser. that- that’s enough proof, isn’t it? that with enough time, you’d come to love me for who i am…”

you let out a strangled cry as a hand starts groping your tits, rough fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples. it feels foreign, having your boobs touched like this, but a dull heat thrums deep inside your stomach. the boy looks entranced as he stares down at your form. the way your plush chest molds and bends to his hands makes him desire you even more, even if he’s aware that you’re terrified to death of him.

“i can’t let you go. i can’t,” he doubles down. any of the remorse you had managed to wrench out of him disappears bit by bit, and he groans as he paws at your body greedily. “god, you’re just so pretty… i have to have you.”

you clench your thighs together. his lips meet yours, and you nearly vomit at the taste of iron on your mouth. he’s clumsy, but he kisses you so hungrily, eager to lap up any semblance of affection. you grip at the sheets as his hot tongue swipes at your closed lips, and you’re determined to deny him. he frowns into the kiss, and you feel a twinge of pride well up.

the wolf exhales angrily. the hand that’s been roaming your chest twists at your nipple harshly. you yelp at the pain, and the boy shoves his tongue into your mouth, moaning into the kiss. you start thrashing slightly. he doesn’t heed any mind to your discomfort, and if anything, he begins grinding his clothed hips against your thighs.

he can’t get enough of how you feel. your kisses are like honey to his mouth, and his body melts at the feeling of you against him. you know he’s going to leave bruises all over your tits from how hard he’s grabbing at them, but despite everything that’s overwhelming you, the heat that pounds against your core only builds.

you can’t breathe. you clench your eyes shut and try to bear it, try to work through the sparks of pleasure that cloud your mind from having your breasts molested, as the wolf kisses you how he wants you. your mouth tastes foul when he finally pulls away, and a string of saliva connects the two of you momentarily.

you glare up at him.

“i want to fuck you…,” his voice trails off. “i want to fuck you so bad. but i have to be gentle. i promised to treat you well…”

your pussy curls at the thought of taking the wolf’s dick. he bucks his clothed erection higher and higher up your legs, and he moans shamelessly into your mouth as he kisses you again. he slobbers all over your mouth like a feral dog, his tongue slithering into your throat like he’s fucking your mouth.

you don’t enjoy this. you don’t want this at all. yet you can’t ignore the throb that pulses at your core, the way your walls squeeze every now and then painfully against nothing. you’re not turned on by this—you’re not. you want to convince yourself of that so badly, but every time you realize the situation you’re put in, pinned down to a bed with a werewolf that wants to stuff every inch of his dirty cock into your cunt, arousal swirls inside your body.

his hands trickle down to your pants, and fear pricks sharply at your heart.

“i’ll be a good mate.” he peels the rest of your clothes off, mimicking the gentleness of a human lover the best he can. “i can be like a real human husband. no, i can be better. i know i can be better than any of those stupid boys in your village.”

you shudder when cold air rushes at your bare cunt. the slick that coats your slit is undeniable, and the boy’s pupils widen at the sight. he swallows, and you watch as his neck bobs. even by human standards, he’s handsome, and your body betrays your mind as he coaxes your thighs open.

“you want me too, don’t you?” he asks. he offers a weak smile. it’s almost sickening, how someone who mercilessly took everything from you can pretend to be a human in hopes that you’d grant him any pity. “i’ll make you feel good. i’ll be everything you want me to be.”

he lets go of your legs, and he grabs at his own clothes, shredding them apart. he groans when his cock springs free of his pants.

your heart drops into your stomach.

“i-i can’t take that-,” you choke out. “that’s too big! you’ll kill me- i’m not kidding…!”

he tilts his head to the side, and he shrugs. his cock is inhumanly huge, and if he were to put that inside your cunt, you swear that you’d be able to feel it in your throat. it’s long and thick and swollen up to an angry red. a few prominent veins run along his length, eager to stuff itself into your soft and vulnerable cunt. his balls hang heavy and big, undoubtedly filled with all the cum that he wants to fuck into you.

he grabs at your thighs again, and you squeal loudly in protest as he keeps you pinned in place.

“stay still-,” he grunts, “it’ll hurt less if you stop squirming like that! you’ll get used to it with time. it might hurt a little, but it’ll feel good with time… now shut up, and let me fuck you already-”

you grit your teeth and brace yourself as he starts rubbing his length against your lower lips. he moans softly, savoring the way your warm body feels against him. you can feel his cock twitch dangerously against your folds, and you whimper in a mix of pleasure, disgust, and fear whenever his cockhead catches at your sensitive clit.

he lines his cock up at your fluttering hole, and you stop breathing. your chest feels tight, and your head feels blown out. you prep yourself for the oncoming pain, but he pauses for a moment.

“give me your name.”

you blink. “huh?”

“if- if i’m going to take you to be my mate, i should know your name at least. before i do this,” he whispers sheepishly. your stomach twists with hatred. why should he care? he’s going to do all of these horrible things to you, so why is he even bothering to pretend to play the act of a caring lover?

“yours first,” you hiss. “if a wolf like you even has a name.”

“i do.” his response surprises you. “michael. it’s michael. i have a human name like you do. i heard that it means ‘he who is like god.’ now tell me yours.”

you lay there for a moment, dumbfounded. you didn’t expect a monster like him to have a label like that. and less so a name as blessed as “michael.”

you hang your head. “...(y/n).”

he hums, and you flinch when his cockhead threatens to break into your hole. “it’s a pretty name. a perfect name for a perfect mate.”

you bite the inside of your mouth and properly brace yourself. he pushes his hips in slowly, his gaze fixed on where his cock connects with your pussy. you weren’t sure exactly what you were expecting, but the pain comes faster than you thought. it burns and stretches, and you cry out, stiffening and lashing out, trying to get him off of you.

“hurts…! ‘t hurts-!!” you screech. you pound and claw at his shoulders, yelling and immediately bursting into another onslaught of tears. the tears are hot and heavy as they trickle down your face, and your legs shake uncontrollably. it genuinely feels like he’s splitting you into two, and the torturous pain makes your head flash white.

michael nearly falls on top of you. your cunt is disgustingly warm and inviting, and it stretches out and envelops him. it’s hot and wet and tight, and despite your constant protests, your pussy is heavenly around his cock. you’re so small, and he knows his wolf cock is about to break you. but god—he wants to break you. if breaking you feels this good, he’ll eagerly shatter you into a million pieces so that he has the depraved honor of being the one to destroy you and strip you of your humanity.

he clenches his jaw. he couldn’t lose his mind. not like this, not when his endgame was right there. “take it. i’m going to be your mate, so you better get used to taking my dick and get used to it fast.”

you hold back a strangled sob. your tears are freeflowing, and it’s hard to breathe. his cock feels like it’s pressing straight up against your womb, and he’s not even giving you the mercy of adjusting to his size slowly. his length invades every inch of your cunt, and his ridiculous girth has you stretched out thin. you know you can’t take this. he’s actively molding your tight hole into the shape of his cock, and if he keeps himself in here any longer, you might actually go insane.

your words slur sloppily. “you’ll kill me- you’ll fuck me to death-”

his breathing is strained just from the pleasure of putting it in, but he still manages to snort at you mockingly. “you won’t die. no one’s ever died from sex.”

you wish you had the spirit to shout back at him, to put up more of a fight. but that instinct has been long extinguished at this point, and you’re nothing more than a sniveling mess as you struggle to breathe through the tightness in your chest.

“c’mon, don’t be boring now.” he truly can’t get enough of the sight. the pretty girl from the village, face stained with tears, legs spread out all for him to fuck into her pretty cunt. to put it as frankly as he can, the boy doesn’t know what he wants to do first with you.

the sweeter part of him wants to kiss away your tears, to comfort you the best he can with a low voice and whisper his undying love to you, to convince you that a life as a wolf’s wife won’t be all that bad. you’ve caught his eye for a reason, and he wouldn’t want to have you snatch away whatever dregs of humanity the hybrid wolfboy was clinging desperately too. even if everyone else regarded him to be some kind of barbaric monster, deep down, even he has a soul that yearns painfully for love. for a romantic partner that could accept him as an equal and open their heart up to him.

but maybe this other part of him is what makes him a monster.

he loves seeing you reduced to this broken mess. he enjoys it, the primal fear that’s evident on every inch of your face. the way you’re nothing more than prey in his arms, with no other choice but to let him fuck your tight pussy out on his monstruous cock, to be the direct cause of all the pain and anguish you’re going through and to enjoy it like it’s the thrill of a fresh kill… it makes the wolfish streak inside of him go wild with delight, and he wants to keep you pinned down and helpless underneath him so he can soak up that bliss a little longer.

your stomach coils up on itself when you feel him slide his hips back slowly. the strangled noise that leaves your mouth is a mix between a pained shriek and a pleasured moan. he’s really too much for you to fit inside, and your strained walls cling to his cock. you’re barely hanging on for dear life just from him penetrating you. you can’t even imagine what it would be like once he would start actually thrusting and having sex with you.

“ahhh, you’re just too cute,” he teases you. “i never knew love could feel like this… it’s so good, isn’t it? no regular human dick could even come close to what i’ll make you feel, my little wife.”

you sob as he slowly bullies his cock back into you, once more making sure that you can properly feel the torturous stretch. the pain wobbles dangerously on edging you towards pleasure, and your vision blurs over slightly as the mounting heat in your gut tightens up. it’s gross, it’s inhuman that you’re getting off on having sex with a wolf, but your own self-restraint is being tested with the small cries you’re letting out.

“ah-,” you pathetically squeak out, “ahh…! michael- michael, please- i can’t do this!”

“yes, you can,” he promptly corrects you. his thrusts are shallow, granting you the rare mercy of sparing you from being speared in half on his entire length. “look at you… you’re starting to feel good, aren’t you? i can feel everything… that little cunt of yours won’t stop tightening up around me. you’re squeezing so much! it’s like your pussy knows better than you who you’re meant to be with.”

your mind shakes. it’s all you can do to keep yourself conscious. all the stimuli are too much: the anxiety, the pleasure, the adrenaline. your thoughts are being smoothed over, all logic coming to a screeching halt as the tightness welling up in your womb is all that your body can focus on. you hate how easily his name falls out of your mouth, how easily you find it to moan, and the wolfboy eagerly devours the attention you give him.

how angelic you must look to him right now! his mate, his precious mate, moaning out his name in pleasure, no matter how terrified they are of him! he moans softly too, and he can’t help but buck his hips deeper and harder into you. your voice and all your little noises are too adorable to him, and he just wants it all.

“you like it, don’t you? yeah, i know it’s starting to feel good. give in to me. you don’t have to do anything but let me have my way.” his breath is hot and heavy and tinged with the sharp tang of blood. you cringe when he kisses at your neck and cheeks again, but with how rapidly his hips are picking up at the rhythm, your thighs tremble dangerously. “i’ll make you cum again and again… oh, you’re just so lovely…”

your cunt sucks him in greedily. feeling his cock rub against your walls and prod dangerously at your cervix makes you grow blank, and your body keeps reacting more and more to what the wolfboy is doing to you. you wonder if this is what people mean when they say they’re being fucked stupid, and if it isn’t, whatever he’s doing to you is coming horribly close.

“fuck…! fuck- no- michael- michael, please-,” you whimper out. you two both know perfectly well that your cries are from how good it feels, but you still refuse to verbalize it properly. michael smiles into the curve of your throat, and he kisses your jugular with what you can only describe as a sickly kind of affection.

“what are you asking for, my love?” he chuckles endearingly. you sob, and your toes curl into the disheveled bed when his cock slides into you just right. your vision skews its axis slightly, and you let out a sharp exhale, mouth lolling open a little. he nips at your skin with his sharp teeth to snap you back to life. “tell me properly with those human words you’re so proud of. ‘please fuck me harder, michael! make love to your wife! give me more of your cock!’”

your cheeks burn with humiliation when he ridicules you, but deep down, you don’t know if you can wholeheartedly refute him. you do want more of him. you do want him to fuck you harder. your cunt purrs in delight every time he slides in and out of your slick hole, and his cock manages to ruthlessly hit all the right places.

it’s unfair. it’s unfair how everything’s stacked against you.

you must have ignored him for too long. michael frowns disapprovingly, and a low growl vibrates in his throat. he ducks his head and bites down on your shoulder, sharp teeth digging themselves into the curves of your soft flesh. you scream out in pain, your walls clamping down on him and another flurry of torturous pleasure shreds your stomach.

“p-please fuck me harder, michael…!” you’re fully crying. your words don’t sound like your own, and you certainly don’t feel like yourself. the tears and snot smeared all over your face makes you feel like some lowlife, and you hate the way he forces you to beg for him. “make love to me… give me- give me more of your cock!”

“see?” he licks his lips, and he grins devilishly as you as he pulls away from your now-marked shoulder. “that wasn’t so bad, was it? nothing wrong with you for wanting more from your husband. i’ll gladly indulge my darling.”

a shaky scream pounds at your chest, and blinding hot pleasure overwhelms your head as he picks up his pace. your moans reach a high-pitched squeal as he fucks himself into you, his cock rapidly pulling in and out of your pulsing hole. it’s not like you make it particularly easy for him either; your disgustingly tight pussy walls cling to him and almost refuse to let him go.

does your body love his dick that much? does your cunt want to savor the feeling of him stretching it out that badly? those thoughts make kaiser swell with pride as he reaches a fast rhythm. despite how sloppily and quickly he’s ramming his whole length into you to make sure you feel every single bit of his dick, he still makes sure that each thrust has his heavy cockhead drilling right at your womb.

he prods at your deepest parts, shamelessly making sure that your womb knows it’s time to be bred. it’s time for him to fill you up with his cum, to fuck a baby into you, to force every part of your body to be tainted with him. from inside and out, from outside to in, kaiser wants to selfishly claim every part of you. that’s what good husbands do to their wives, don’t they? that’s what your folk—the human folk—did, right?

the tightness that gnaws at your core refuses to relent. your arousal runs rampant through your veins, and it feels like your guts are tying themselves into a knot. you don’t know how else to describe the heat that mounts in your core and inside your head. your body and conscience are at odds with each other. your brain rejects michael, your mouth begs for him to hold you and fuck you harder, and your hole sucks him in like it doesn’t want to let go.

“that’s my pretty wife. you have such a fucking slutty body- begging for your husband feels good, yeah? i know, i know, darling,” he drinks up your tears, his hot tongue lapping languidly at your face. you choke back another sob, and he moves to steal a kiss. his tongue invades your mouth, and your eyes gloss over. you’re overwhelmed with his presence. it smells like him, tastes like him, feels like him. you’re crying out and mewling in pleasure into his mouth, and he literally eats up every single one of your lewd noises.

his balls slap against your ass, desperate to empty themselves into you. his cock twitches and throbs inside you, making you shudder in delight. it’s a sick kind of lovemaking, if you could even call it that. your own slick dribbles down between your legs, and the lubrication only makes it easier for michael to greedily shove his cock into your fluttering cunt.

“can’t take anymore- michael, ‘m gonna lose my mind-!” you breathe out. you hate to admit it. you don’t want to tell him how stupidly close you are. you blame how monstrously huge his cock is; how else would he be destroying your body in such an inhuman way? your vision is unstable, blurring even more around your teary edges, and the heat that licks inside of you is unbearable.

michael knows it. he can feel it. the way the velvety lining of your cunt coaxes his cock right up to your cervix, the way it keeps squeezing him and writhing around his sensitive inches, the way your own voice seems to hike higher and higher. your legs tremble underneath him, and michael is thrilled to know just how far he’s successfully broken you. the shame and embarrassment that’s scribbled all over your face makes him almost uncontrollably giddy.

“are you gonna cum, darling? did my cock make you feel that good?” he laughs mockingly. his words are like thorns against your ears, yet with how roughly he’s pounding into your pussy, having mounted you like the uncivilized animal he was, you couldn’t deny it. he’s a predator through and through, and with you trapped in his reach like prey, you know all too well that he’ll be moving in for the kill soon.

the insatiable tightness inside you teeters on the brink. you’re barely holding on, each breath growing more strained than the last. michael doesn’t let up his pace, continuing to rut into you. each snap of his hips has you close, so close, so fucking close—you don’t want him to stop. you clench your eyes shut, bracing yourself to hurtle headfirst into the crash, to topple finally past the point of no return where you would irrevocably become the wolf’s.

“i’m cumming…! ah- michael- cumming- cumming…!”

heat rips through your body in half. you throw your head back, the foreign feeling consuming you whole as if you had been thrown directly into fire. your cunt clamps down on the boy’s cock, and it feels like he’s about to split you into two. your vision completely blurs, and the world rushes around your senses. it’s too much yet not enough at the same time, and you rake your nails down the wolf’s bare back with such a fervor that you must have shredded up his skin and drawn blood.

you shake and squirm and thrash underneath him, but no matter how much you writhe against his body, michael won’t let his grip on you go. he relentlessly fucks you through your orgasm, leaving you a sobbing mess as your juices squirt out of your abused hole and drip down onto the shaky bed. his cock pounds harder and harder, and he groans out as he feels your slick and pulsing walls flutter and clench around him.

“hah- that’s what i thought-,” he chuckles. you can’t breathe. you can’t think. the incessant throbbing in your stomach is still there, but it’s morphed from arousal into something a little more painful. he’s overstimulating your already overrun cunt. “your husband’s dick is that good, isn’t it? don’t worry; i’ll fuck you like this as much as you want… i’ll get you to cum over and over again.”

you dumbly shake your head. your head is foggy, and the throes of your climax don’t want to let you go. “n-o… can’t take any more- no more- don’t want any more…!”

“you’re going to take it, like the good wife you are. you don’t get a choice in this. i’m your husband,” he snarls. you shudder, whimpering in weak protest as he continues using you. it hurts, and it burns, and the coil that refuses to let up in your stomach makes you feel sick. how much longer could this monster last? it feels like he’s been having sex and using your body forever, but even after ripping an earth-shattering orgasm from you, he still hasn’t cum yet.

“it hurts- i can’t do it…!” you smack at his chest again, but you know he won’t let you go. your tears sparkle cruelly on your cheeks, and michael sighs lovingly as he laps at your face. he swings back and forth constantly between treating you like you were a mere bug to cherishing you. was this some kind of karmic revenge from the universe for thinking so lowly of your own village? the home that seemed so far away now?

“take it- take it- fuck- let me make you my proper wife…” fear floods your body when you can feel his cock twitch dangerously deep inside you, your bruised cervix contracting and sucking him in. his balls tighten and continue to slap against your ass, but with how quickly and frantic his movements are, he’s going to cum. “fill you up with my pups… we’ll be such a happy family together-”

your eyes shoot open. cold reality splashes over you as if slapping you back to your senses, even in the midst of being manhandled. “no! no, no…! don’t! please, please, michael- that’s the one thing you can’t do! don’t cum inside- i don’t want to get pregnant with your babies!”

he grits his teeth, and he presses his entire body weight on top of you, determined to keep you physically where you are. he’s determined to make sure you can’t escape from his grasp, as if you’d be able to go anywhere with how disheveled and haunted you are. it’s a good look for you, second only to the loving glances he knows you’d never spare him.

“shut up, shut up…! this is your job, this is what you’re supposed to do! this is what lovers do!” he thrusts once, twice, and when he brings his hips down one final time, your fate is sealed. his own cry dies out, buried deep inside his throat as he cums deep and hard into you. your breath lodges into your neck, leaving you with nothing but bitter defeat and the taste of uncertainty all over your mouth.

his cum spurts everywhere, and it floods your womb. it burns and goes everywhere, painting your insides a pretty shade of ivory white, and you can feel every drop of it flowing into you. it’s poison, it’s heavy, and it’s awful, yet your cunt has no choice but to take every little bit of it. you bite down on the inside of your cheek as it starts to eke out, and you force yourself to endure it. you have no choice but to; this is what survival is for you now. this is the only answer you have now.

you don’t know how you’re going to live with this. you try to console yourself by telling yourself that you had gotten over the worst, but you know that you haven’t. you never will.

“nnghg…!” a stray cry slips from your mouth when something tight and way too big for you to take invades your strained hole. a sharp pain invades and spearheads through you, and your entire body stiffens as his large knot shoves its way into your plush and stretched out pussy. his cum overwhelms your body, stretching out every inch of your battered womb. your stomach bulges just slightly, feeling stuffed to the very brim.

michael nearly collapses on top of you, keeping you folded in half and in a perfect, vulnerable breeding position. his eyes are blown open wide and glossed over in a kind of drunken stupor, yet he refuses to let you go in any capacity. it’s not like you have the physical means to anyway; you’re already so weak from having him force himself onto you, and the pain of being bred and knotted is taking everything in you to not pass out right there and then.

he reaches towards your face, cupping your tear-stained and broken expression with his large palm. you don’t know if the feeling that stirs in your gut is simply the aftershocks of sex or pity towards yourself, but seeing michael look down at you with such a triumphant yet lovestricken gaze isn’t doing your any favors. you know you have no choice but to get pregnant with his children, to watch in horror as your body turns into nothing but a host for these parasites he’s determined to fuck into you over and over, not a single squeeze of semen going to waste with the knot he’s plugged you up with.

“we’ll be perfect together,” he whispers. his words are almost like a mantra he’s brainwashing you with. you wonder who needs it more, the manipulator or the one being manipulated. everything feels like a punishment to you. just where did you go wrong? were you too ambitious for your own good? too hopeful? too willing to jump at the first opportunity for escape that came your way, not caring to see if any part of the rosy details were traps?

or maybe the worst part was that you might have done nothing wrong at all. maybe this was all a twisted machination of the universe. maybe just like what michael believed, you were destined to fall into the wolf’s grasp one way or another, to disappear from the face of society and the world as you knew it, to have him drag you off into the darkness and to become the broken but beautiful wolf’s bride that he must have dreamt of forever.

“i love you.” he kisses you, and you don’t have the strength nor the courage to say those blasted words back to him. it’s not like you could say them back sincerely either. instead you avert his gaze, turning your face towards the red scraps of your cloak that lay on the ground as if they were miniature corpses of their own, left over from a long lost war.

you hope your mother can forgive you when she realizes you won't ever come back home.

KINKTOBER 2023—le cinquième jour, le dernier jour.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk smut #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing

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ohimsummer · 3 months

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✎ . . .❝ WRONG CHOCOLATE, DUMBASS! ❞

— poly! stsgverse, sfw biting, explicit language, sassy man suguru, jealous! gojo if you squint, geto + reader banter

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ there’s one line (at the end) that implies reader is black, other than that it’s fair game :3

“i knew it was too quiet in here.”

two heads tilt to rest on the back of the couch, four eyes watching geto lean against the living room doorway. you giggle in his direction, breaking off another piece of the candy bar to nibble on.

“yeah, he offered me his silence in exchange for some of my chocolate.” you gesture towards the large, half-eaten symphony bar. “staying true to his word, too. i thought he was bein’ a big, fat liar.”

you’d know those blues were glaring even without turning around, or suguru’s lighthearted snickers. the dragon is appeased with another square of almond and toffee-riddled chocolate, and gojo makes sure to nip at your fingers as he takes the candy into his mouth; your pointed look goes ignored before you give his pale nose a flick and gojo yelps like a hurt dog; it’s a scene straight out of a sitcom, suguru thinks.

“he’s lucky he’s cute,” you huff towards geto, “can’t eat shit around here for somebody always begging.”

geto laughs aloud at that. “you’re an enabler. just look what you’re doing now, you’ve trained him to be that way.”

“what i’m doing now? and what’s that supposed to mean?”

you glance between him and gojo, whose long arms are wrapped snug around your waist, cheek resting on your chest and white bangs tickling your skin as he’s practically trapped you beneath him. pouting his toffee-tasting lips at you because you’re not hand-feeding him sweets fast enough.

maybe you get what suguru’s saying. but that doesn’t mean pride will allow you to admit it. “i don’t see the issue.”

geto just shakes his head and he disappears into the kitchen. “and that’s your problem, right there.”

you take another bite of the chocolate, gojo’s attention-seeking groan falling on deaf ears. “i’m so sick of you and that attitude, suguru.”

“oh, are you?” his taunt is shortly followed by the fridge door closing shut. “you gonna fight me about it or what?”

“and will.”

the broad man reappears in the doorway, cracking open a bottle of water. he doesn’t say a word, though the arch of his brows and the way his eyes narrow as he looks you up and down does all the talking for him.

“oh shut up.” you feel soft lips brush against your arm. the tingling sensation causes you to fidget, inadvertently moving the chocolate bar just as gojo moves in for a bite—a shark losing its prey. he gives out a loud sigh in another effort to be noticed, though it’s a noise that is overlooked.

“why, i haven’t said a word, darling.” geto snorts before taking a few sips of water. “i just…find that threat…a bit interesting coming from you.”

“see, now what is that supposed to mean?”

restlessness shoots throughout gojo’s limbs as his eyes follow the candy bar back and forward. you’re too busy returning sassy gestures to suguru, and he can’t find a good opportunity to take another bite with you moving so much. this was not a part of the deal he made with you.

“you just wait til I get up, i’m gonna beat that a–ow!”

water spurts from geto’s lips as he fails miserably at holding in his laughter; he slaps the back of a hand over his mouth before scurrying away into the kitchen for a paper towel. meanwhile, gojo meets your wide-eyed gaze with an unimpressed frown, blinking as you rub over the fresh teeth indentations on your forearm.

“you—!” satoru scrunches his face, drawling out an ‘owww!’ as you shove two fingers into his forehead. “that’s the wrong chocolate, dumbass!”

tagz: @staryukis @anthoosies @hellkaiserinphoenix @astral-hydromancy @flvffybunny @exinqiu @luvr-exe @reallifepearl @purplegemadventures @roseqzpd @sataraxia @trafalgarrattata @snackeyalleyjuice @apatauaia @leilalilox @getouolgy @elleflying07

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inkykeiji · 5 months

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character: sano ‘mikey’ manjirou warnings: no explicit smut but still 18+, daddy kink, fem!reader, possessive n obsessive mikey, clothes sharing + implied size difference words: 511

wrote this in a fever-induced delirium because i am currently stuck in bed and so bored and i can’t stop dreaming about mikey taking care of me waaah

okay but Daddy mikey would be so fucking stringent when you’re sick.

Daddy mikey who frets and frenzies and fawns over you the moment you show even a hint of illness, a singular symptom, flitting around you with unsure hands—bony knuckles pressed to your forehead as he checks your temperature, slim fingers poking and prodding so gently as they tuck and then re-tuck you into a cocoon of blankets, calloused palms that cup your chin as he tilts a glass to your withered lips, praising you softly as you take a small sip of water (and then laughing at the way your face twists up oh-so-cutely, because it tastes like poison, Daddy, but you did it anyway for him, like the good girl you are).

Daddy mikey who likes to play doctor when he takes time off from his bonten duties, who keeps meticulous, almost methodical notes on your progression of symptoms and your rapidly climbing fever, who presses cold fingertips into your pounding head and aching joints, melting a little beneath your mewls of relief.

Daddy mikey who takes away all of your electronics—your phone and your tablet and your laptop, the remote to his absurdly massive flatscreen television and your shiny new smart watch, and anything else you manage to get your cute little hands on—because you need to rest and you can’t recover if you’re busy playing around on your devices.

but Daddy, you sulk, drawing out the nickname, gone sticky and stringy through a petulant pout, carved so deeply into your lips that it puckers your chin and warps your brow. i’m bored!

good, he tells you, eyes hard but touch tender, brushing damp hair back from your throbbing temples. go to sleep, like a good girl.

Daddy mikey who finally, finally gives into your incessant whines and whimpers for chocolate—just a few squares, Daddy, pretty pretty please?—who decides it won’t necessarily hurt, even if it is less than ideal; who knows he should say no, but reasons that you haven’t eaten anything else—refuse to eat anything else—and you’re in desperate need of some form of energy fuelling your body as it battles this infection.

Daddy mikey who outfits you in his softest sweater and his comfiest sweatpants and himself in his second softest sweater and comfiest sweatpants, climbing into bed with you to curl his body around yours—arms wrapped around your own, legs twined at the ankles, almost protective in a sense, as if his physical presence alone will be enough to ward off the sickness—and holds you with just enough strength to make you feel safe, secure. gentle, even breaths lull you to sleep, the sweetest symphony as they harmonize with the hum of vibrations in his chest, your favourite song dancing on his tongue.

Daddy mikey who can say no when it really counts, but can’t deny his precious little princess the small pleasures of life, even when she’s bedridden and ill, even when it’s the ‘proper’ thing to do, especially when she’s bedridden and ill.

#mikey x reader #manjiro sano x reader #mikey fluff #manjiro sano fluff #mikey x you #manjiro sano x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #this isn't edited so #i miss daddy mikeyyyyyyy

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crazylittlejester · 1 month

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I’m gonna go on a crazy ass rant because I’m upset and also very tired

A huge reason as to why I characterize Warriors the way that I do, regarding his fear of being poisoned and his food anxiety, is a way to explain myself and my own anxieties caused by my allergies, because when I say to someone I don’t think I can eat the food at the party/function/their house EVEN IF it was specifically made to be free of my allergens, they just don’t understand why I can’t eat it. They just don’t understand that just because it’s ‘safe’ doesn’t mean I feel safe enough to eat it, because there’s always that lingering ‘What if’ in my mind that food made outside of my vision is contaminated somehow.

It is so HARD to explain to people the genuine fear that you are going to die because a food created an odd texture in your mouth and you gave yourself a panic attack over nothing. It breaks my heart every time I go to my friends house and her mom offers to make me food because I’ve been at her house for thirteen hours and haven’t eaten a meal with them, because even though she cleans everything and offers to let me watch her make it, there’s still this loud screaming voice in my mind saying that that food is not safe to eat. And it just NEVER goes away. I feel awful because her mom is so sweet and willing to help me, and I just can’t ever accept because I manage to convince myself it’s contaminated every time

I have been dealing with this for my entire life and never not once have I been able to get someone to understand what this feels like or seen it shown in a media form anywhere. I’ve had family and therapists both just tell me to get over myself, because I’m being ‘ridiculous’ and the craziest thing to me EVER is that for the first time in nineteen years, I have had an outlet to throw this frustration into. Warriors and the food issues I have given him are so important to me because for the first time in my life I can explain this fear through a character and even if people may not relate or really, truly get what it’s like, they understand. They understand and they recognize it as a valid fear, and it’s because of a fanfiction about a traumatized war hero. (which is INSANE to me that this is what it took for people to understand, but you know what, I’ll take it)

This rant was inspired because I opened a sealed container of ice cream and the allergen labels were incorrect and now I can’t eat it and I’ve wasted money and I’m so upset and it’s been a really long week, but also because I never saw anyone talking about this when I was a kid, and if I’d had someone there to represent me like this, or just be there for me to connect with, I would’ve felt a lot better. Understanding allergies and food restrictions is so important for so many reasons, the most important being that if you know how to help someone, you can save their LIFE. And for other people who feel the same way I do, it’s so GOOD to know you’re not alone and that there’s someone out there who gets what you’re dealing with

If I can make people understand what it’s like to live life this way, then that is so important to me. If I can explain to people what to do in an emergency situation because their friend is having a allergic reaction, I will, because not enough people understand how allergies work, and I’m sick and tired of hearing stories about kids with allergies who were peer pressured into eating when they didn’t feel comfortable and then suffering the consequences, and I am TIRED of seeing companies mislabel their fucking food.

Also do NOT be afraid to ask any friends or classmates or coworkers with allergies how to use an epi pen because You Could Save Their Life. If anyone is curious, I’LL tell you, or look up a youtube video I’m sure there are some on there

Anyways, this is why I give Warriors the food issues I do in my fics, for anyone else out there with allergies who’s ever felt invalidated by people telling them their anxieties were stupid, and so people who have no idea what it’s like to fear your food will kill you can try to understand that this is the irritating reality for some of your peers. (not that everyone with allergies has this exact experience, I have a friend with allergies who just eats whatever and prays it wont kill them, but I know now that there are plenty of people out there with allergies who DO have this experience)

Sorry for kinda ranting, (I’m just a little guy 🥺), but this is something that is so hugely important to me, and sorry Warriors but you had too similar of a problem so now you get my exact issues 🫶

#linked universe #lu warriors #tw vent #kind of?? tagging it just in case #anyways i am FINE just really annoyed 🕺🕺🕺#jes talks #jes rambles #jes rants

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spicyclover · 1 year

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Show me your scar

Summary: Being teammates isn’t always the easiest thing in the world.

Request

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

I'm open to requests.

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

Rivalry and challenge have always been the words to describe your relationship with Daniel. Never giving up. No matter the cause. No matter the consequence. He’s one of the tops of the top drivers, and you can’t afford to lose another race. It’s almost the middle of the season, and you’re way behind him.

You can’t sleep or eat as you should. All those worries and pressure put you in a state you can’t imagine. It’s eating you alive, even though you try to keep healthier habits. Seeing him perform more than you is painful. Eating less. Putting more hours in the sim or at the gym. You can’t even remember the last time you went out with friends.

You hate being the second driver. It’s a fact. We are at the Canadian Grand Prix, and you’re about to go in your car for the race. Your weekend has been worst than ever. You couldn’t or barely do the practice season since your vehicle had a mechanical problem. You have qualified in P12, way behind your teammates who are in P6.

Sat in the car, you’ve been focusing on your race. You haven’t eaten in a day and are throwing up everything you put in your mouth out of stress. You’re dehydrated, but the doctor cleared you for the race. You can feel the lack of sleep and food getting to you, but you suppress those feelings to focus. You need to focus. All you need to do is set your mind and mind to win and be better than him.

You do the formation lap, and the race begins. The first corner is the worst. Everyone turns around. And already two cars are hitting each other, causing a lot of debris to spread out on the track. You get through the dust cloud and are a little further away. A yellow flag is automatically displayed, and your engineer informs you as best he can of the situation. Three cars are off the grid, so you’re three places ahead on the grid. You’re no longer twelfth but ninth, three places to your number-one rival.

The red flag is on, and you all get behind the safety car and back to the pit. Once in the pits, everyone is allowed to get out of their vehicle, as the red flag may take several minutes.

Okay, here is the thing about Daniel. Is the best teammate in the world outside the track. Always been friendly and compassionate. He likes you. It’s a fact. Being the first woman in a long time in a formula one car and being his teammate is the dream for Daniel. So when you’re out of your monoplace, he’s already by your side, debriefing the incident.

“What a crazy start,” he says with his sexy Australian accent. “It was just pure chaos. I saw it in my mirrors. It’s a good thing you haven’t been it.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, eager to get away from him.

You like Daniel, he’s a great person, don’t let anyone fool you. But you can’t let the fact of being his teammate and being the less competitive one is so hard on you. You just can’t let things go, and every time, sometimes happens, you can’t let it go. You've always been like this. Making no difference between the race track and off-track. So even though you like him, you just can let things go. At some point, you just stop talking about anything and let him do all the talking.

Well, in fact, one night in Monaco, you allowed yourself a little party and ended up being drunk in a boat, almost falling out off the ship and into the Mediterranean. Thanks to Daniel, who passed by and caught you in time. You were in his arms when you started mumbling all you had in your heart. Letting your bag go and saying what’s been bothering you.

“You know. I hate being the second driver. You have all the glory and everything because the car is designed for you. What am I left with? Scrubs. It’s suck. I’ve been sick for three weeks now because I just can’t deal with my shit.” You cried on his shirt. “I don’t want to be second.”

He brought you back to your hotel room and stayed with you. Listening carefully to everything you’ve said to him. He knew this feeling of being second too well, and he couldn’t do anything to improve it for you. Before returning to his apartment, he brushes your hair and puts your pyjamas on.

You didn’t talk about this after. And a year has passed, and you’ve been in the same situation again. Making yourself sick to be at your best performance. The red flag is over, and you all drive off to race.

Your laps are getting good, and you feel good about the car. You managed to get behind, Daniel. Finally, you’re getting in the groove. Your laps are getting better than Daniel, and the team order Daniel to let you through. You’re in the long straight to the last corner. After insisting quite a bit, Daniel let you through at the last moment, making a dangerous move.

Your wheels lock up, and you’re enabled to finish your turn. You are going straight to the champion wall, full speed and no brake. The back of Daniel's car damaged your front wings, which blocked your brake and locked up the wheels. You don’t even have time to think you hit the first wall. Part of the barrier flies around, and you feel something touching your chest.

The second wall came quickly as the first one. You can feel pressure on your chest, and you have difficulty breathing. You can hear on the radio your engineers calling your name. You want to say something, but the words are stuck in your throat.

After that, you don’t remember much. Everything is blurred. You are in great pain and somehow hear Daniel's voice calling your name. Then you black out.

The first thing you hear when you wake up. It’s the rhythm of the monitor. Then you smell sanitizer. When you can open your eyes. You are met with the worried looks of your family. And then everything became a blur. The doctor's announcement. The end of your career. The beginning of this new rehabilitation. The world kept turning, but you felt stuck in your bed. Well, you are stuck in bed. Time flies, and the vacation finally arrives. You’ve been discharged, and you went back home to the UK.

It’s the first in three months that you and Daniel will see each other again. At first, you’ve been angry at him, wondering why he made that move. When he enters your apartment, a weird silence takes place. Neither of you knows what to say to the other. Deep down, you must keep your mind open and calm to any outcome. So when you see how uncomfortable he has been, you can’t help yourself to hug him. A weight is lifted from your shoulder and Daniels. Something forgiveness is the way to find peace.

You converse for quite a while, talking about everything other than racing. It’s been long since you opened up to him that way. Making yourself vulnerable again, just like at the beginning of this journey. Really being friends with him.

“Show me your scar.” He says tenderly after seeing you scratching through the fabric of your shirt.

You take your top off, showing yourself in your sports bra. He sees it for the first time. This scar on your chest’s forever grave in your skin because of his mistake is like a fantom reminder of his action toward you. His gaps silently.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, tears in his eyes.

“I’ll heal.” You simply say, putting your shirt back on.

“Scars don’t disappear.”

“No. But they heal, and I think I need to heal now.” You say, stocking his cheek and removing a few tears from his eyes. “I’ll be better, and it’s time I care for myself.”

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #Daniel Ricciardo fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fluff

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thezoraprince · 9 months

Text

BotW/TotK boys taking care of you when you’re sick

big thank you to the students that live in the residence hall i work in for spreading their illness to me and giving me inspiration :')

i applaud you

Sidon

worries too much

sets aside his princely duties to be with you

Muzu is PISSED about it

but Sidon can’t focus when you’re ill

he’ll wrap you up in 1000 blankets if it helps you to stay warm

and he’s sure to give you lots of forehead kisses

he’s constantly asking how you’re feeling

and if you’re feeling worse, he’ll cradle you in his arms until you fall asleep

unless he feels that he just can’t put you down (which is very likely)

he reads to you, whether it be books; papers from Muzu about how mad he is; a news article; etc.

lots of “I love you”s

lots of cuddling

and when you feel better, he’s still taking an extra day to spend with you

Bazz

super busy with work, but will make time to take care of you

he’ll leave super sweet notes around the house for you to read while he’s away

and when he gets home, he will not let go of you for a moment

he’ll tell you all about his day

if he went on a survey, he’ll describe the scenery in detail

and maybe he’ll bring you back a little something (like a pebble or an interesting leaf)

he’ll constantly ask how you’re feeling

because he worries too much

if you’re still feeling bad on one of his days off, he’ll bring you soup in bed

he’ll let you lay your head on his chest all day, because he knows how much that puts you at ease

and when you fall asleep (because you know you will laying like that), he holds you a little tighter

when you feel better, he takes a day off to spend with you

but because he’s always overworking himself, he absolutely gets sick after you

and you have to MAKE him stay in bed

Link

all he wants to do is lay with you

the way he wraps his arms around you makes you feel so safe and secure

he sleeps when you sleep, which is pretty much all day

and he cooks whatever you want to eat

he’ll bring food to you in bed

when you get bored, he’s your entertainment

he’ll find something for the both of you to do, whether it be read or playing little games

he’s soft

and so gentle

he wants you to feel better so you can explore together

he’ll make TONS of elixirs for you to take

he’s so worried about you, though he shouldn’t be

when you start to feel better, he’ll lead you outside and you’ll both sit in the grass for HOURS

and when you’re ready, you’ll go exploring again

Revali

this bird does NOT like illness

at all

he disgusted

revolted

“You sound like a dying bird… I would know.”

but deep down, he feels bad for you

he’ll stay home with you, because he know’s you need him

and he’ll be his usual self… though a bit more helpful

he’s hesitant to hold you close, but he does anyway

and upon feeling just how warm you are, he’ll try to find something to reduce your fever

he keeps a bin FILLED with blankets just for you (because Rito’s Village gets very cold in the winter)

and you bet he’s going to wrap you in 3+ of them

though he hates to see you like this, he loves how snuggly you are when you get sick

he definitely has soft spot for cuddling with you

when you’re better, it takes him a bit to get back into his normal routine

and if he ends up getting sick…

just be ready

Rivan

has the most experience with this due to being a dad

he will absolutely be staying home with you while you’re ill

“Bazz will get over it.”

oh you bet he’s holding you so close, letting you lay your head on his chest

he gives you millions of forehead kisses

he’ll cook every meal

he lays cool, damp towels on your forehead to reduce your fever

and the cuddles are endless

he cleans/does household chores while you sleep (if he’s not holding you)

he finds fun things to do with you around the house if you’re up for it

and if it’s warm enough, he’ll take you outside for fresh air (but only if you’re okay with it)

he gets you water every hour or so

as well as a snack if you haven’t eaten in a bit

he’s so gentle and kind

and when you feel better, he’s back to work

“I kind of wish I was sick now, just so I can stay home with you…”

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lemonlover1110 · 1 year

Note

Hey!! So I wanted to ask if we could get a sukuna x reader sometime? Could be in his original form (four arms) or in his own human form (not yujis body jus like sukuna as a human yk nthn to do with the jjk story plot) that’s if you decide on doing it! All good if u decide no but I would love to see one shots of him in your writing. Much love, your biggest fan❤️❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: Trueform!Sukuna takes care of his sick lover

Warnings: Fluff, Sick Reader, Caring Sukuna, Alluding to Pregnancy

*Sort of a prequel to little monster. Also yes, he’s OOC, if he wasn’t he would’ve eaten her

*Thank you so much for reading mwah mwah

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

The day you met Sukuna was the scariest day of your life. Running away into the woods where you encountered the great monster. He had different plans that night, and they didn’t end up in you breathing like you are right now. He doesn’t know what happened. He just knows that now he’s wrapped around your finger, in a way he’s never been before. He’s never cared about anyone else like this. He seeks to destroy and kill, not love.

When he decided to not kill you, he was set on making you a servant, and again, he doesn’t know what happened. Because here he is, putting a cold towel on your forehead, making sure that your fever is going away. He has so many other curses that can take care of you, but he wants to do it himself. He’s so fucking weak for a human being, it’s truly pathetic.

“Go back to sleep.” He orders when he sees you opening your eyes. His voice isn’t as gentle as you’d like him to be, but knowing how ruthless Sukuna can be, the fact that he didn’t kill you for being sick is a miracle. But then again, he cares too much about you.

“Water…” You lift your head, and he reaches over to grab the water that he’s kept nearby, bringing it up to your lips. By the way he’s treating you, anyone would think that you’re nearly dying. You’re not on the brink of death, but you did faint while preparing dinner for the both of you. And you have a fever as well. Of course he’s worried.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself.” He comments as you drink the water. When you’re fulfilled, your head falls back to the pillow. One of his hands goes to your cheek and he caresses it which is ever so rare in this situation. He’s only sweet like this when you’re having sex and you’re taking too much. “C’mon, I know I’m going to outlive you, but you can’t leave me so soon.”

His lips go down and meet yours. Something he wouldn’t do if you weren’t sick. He hates how much he cares about you. “Go back to sleep. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“Sukuna, I might be…” You begin but you end up biting your tongue. But you don’t end up saying anything because you don’t know what his reaction will be. You’ll lead him to believe that you aren’t just doing your best, maybe because of exhaustion or a simple cold.

“Don’t worry about anything else. Just get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day.” He tells you. Not too long ago he was fine on his own, and now the mere thought of being without you… scares him. It’s moments like this where he regrets not eating you on the spot. When did he allow himself to be so pathetic?

It’s just that when he remembers you so scared and so teary eyed when you met, he feels a toll on his heart. He had never seen beauty like that. And then you ended up coming to his home that had never been so bright before. Usually a monster that looms in the dark, Sukuna found himself appreciating this brightness.

And while he loves you, he won’t tell you that. Even while you’re so sick. He’s never told you he’s loved you, even after the many times you told him you love him. Except in this moment, when your eyes are so heavy that you can barely hold them open. You won’t remember any of this tomorrow.

He caresses your cheek again, telling you, “I love you.”

He grabs your hand and squeezes it lightly, “You’ll wake up just fine tomorrow.”

And he was right. Better in a sense that you didn’t have a fever and weren’t so tired. But you were definitely sick because you woke up puking your guts out. You both soon found out that it wasn’t because you were sick– Or at least your condition wouldn’t be considered an illness.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x you #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader

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gucciwins · 1 year

Note

Can you please write one where the reader faints and Harry just panics and is super worried

hope you enjoy, lovely 💜 word count: 2240 (a bit of angst )

It’s been a few days, and you were still feeling sick. You didn’t want to worry Harry, so you didn't mention how the smell of his morning breakfast made you want to vomit or how his cologne had become too strong for your liking. You did not like how you felt because these were some of your favorite things about Harry, and now you can’t seem to stand them.

You brushed it off as food sickness, but when you haven’t eaten anything different for that to be the cause. Harry is a health nut and limits your eating out because if it were up to you, it would be a different takeout each night. He’s kind on weekends, counting them as his cheat days. It’s a big reason you joke about wanting to move back out because you loved eating Thai takeout with your roommates. Harry becomes a big baby when you tease him stating it hurts his feelings, but you’re quick to make it up to him with kisses. Moving in with Harry was an easy yes. It was a long time coming, or at least that’s what Harry says. Most of your essentials were already in his home because he made a point to give you your space away from roommates. It’s even better that he owned a King sized bed that feels like sleeping on a cloud. It went from his house to your shared house.

The plans for the day were to go out for a walk, but the weather was not the nicest, so you decided to stay home. Harry wanted a movie and cuddle day, but since the both of you were home, you wanted to get a few chores out of the way, such as mopping the kitchen and doing laundry. As you started, Harry was quick to do most of the work, not wanting you to do too much.

“Baby, I got this.” He takes the basket of folded clothes, placing it in your bedroom so you can begin to put it away.

“I have to take the trash out,” you tell him, remembering it was packed to the brim.

Harry shakes his head, “don’t worry about it. I got it.”

“The bathroom ne–”

He cuts you off, telling you he already took care of it.

“H,” you sigh. “I want to help around.”

Harry laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest. “You do lots, baby. You’re amazing at making our bed and folding out laundry. Most importantly, you fill me with love each and every minute of the day.”

“H,” you whine. “Why are you such a romantic?”

Harry kisses your waiting lips, “because I love you. Now you finish up here, and then come meet me for a movie.”

“No horror, poppet.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he teases.

You knew he would. After all, it’s what he did early in your relationship, although you understand why he did it because it always led you to be curled up in his lap. You’re quick to finish putting all the clothes away. There were a few socks left without their pair, and you are always left wondering how they could have gone missing if you’re sure to toss all your clothes in the hamper.

You call Harry’s name as you come down the stairs, and he calls back that he’s in the kitchen when you stumble down the last few steps, only barely managing to get a hold of yourself, one hand on the railing.

“Wow, there! Baby, you okay?” Harry asked, worried.

“Fine, just missed a step.”

He helps you straighten out but keeps a secure hand on your waist. “Are you sure?”

“Promise. I’m going to sit on the couch, and you’re going to get our snacks,” you know he made popcorn and got your favorite chocolate for the occasion ready.

“I can walk you over.”

You huff, “that’s not necessary. It was just a stumble, H. Don’t make it a bigger deal than it is.” Although your head is pounding and you want to sit down, you can make it to the couch on your own.

Harry lets go of you, and you flash him a smile in thanks. You walk towards the living room, craving the warmth of the knitted blanket Anne gifted you two Christmases ago. It was made up of your favorite colors and brought you so much comfort.

You had to prove to Harry you were okay because you felt fine, maybe a little light-headed, but nothing that wouldn’t fade in a few minutes. One second you were at the edge of the couch, and the next, Harry was screaming your name. Then it all went black.

“She’s not waking up.” He breathes into the phone. “Yes, I checked her pulse, and breathing is all good.”

You hear Harry but feel so groggy you’re not sure what happened. This is not a feeling you’ve experienced before.

“H,” you call out.

“S-s-she’s awake. I’ll call you back.” Harry drops his phone and kneels closer to you. He brushes back your hair, smiling as you blink your eyes open. “Hey, hey, you’re okay.”

“Did I pass out?” You ask.

He frowns but nods. “You did, love.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” You try to sit up alone, but Harry’s hand supports you. “I honestly didn’t feel that bad.”

“What do you mean?”

Fuck

“There were a few things that made me feel ill. The headache was fading as well.”

“And you didn’t tell me!” Harry exclaims, upset.

“I-I didn’t want to worry you,” you mutter quietly.

“And look how that worked out,” he throws back.

He’s right. You made him worry. All you had to tell him was that you weren’t feeling well, and he would have happily taken care of you. You feel so fragile after waking up disoriented that your tears quickly rush out. You’re a crying mess before you can stop him. Behind your wet eyes, you see Harry’s anger melt away, and it’s worry that you see displayed in his green eyes.

Harry sits on the couch, pulling you to sit on his lap. “Shh, I got you, baby. I got you.” You’re not sure how much time has passed, but your tears dry out, and you’re left sniffling in Harry’s lap as he rocks you back and forth. “Are you up for a doctor’s visit?”

You want to say no, but Harry is giving you a chance to decide, not having made the choice for you, and you’re thankful for him. You know he must have been worried out of his mind and knew that a doctor's visit would ease him.

“That’s fine. We can go.”

Harry pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you. I’ll make a call to the office and grab your shoes.”

You feel safe, but you’d feel better knowing why you have been feeling ill. The good thing is you know Harry won’t be leaving your side.

The doctor’s office was quiet and quick, with little paperwork to fill out. The nurse took you into a back room for a general intake of questions.

“Now, a pregnancy test is common to run for our patients. Any chance you might be pregnant?”

It’s a question you’ve heard most of your life from age sixteen at every doctor’s visit. Today with Harry by your side, the possibility is there, but it’s low.

“I’m on birth control,” you inform the nurse. “We use condoms occasionally.”

She nods and writes a few more notes on your chart. “We’ll be running a blood test. It should be half an hour, and we’ll be back with your results.”

After all her questions, she moved you to a room where Harry was waiting in an uncomfortable blue chair, his knee bouncing like crazy. Once he saw you come in, he let out a sigh of relief. He saw the bandage around your arm and frowned.

“Blood tests,” you answer, sitting on the check-up bed, the white paper crinkling as you adjust.

“Feelin' okay?”

You nod, “she had me drink a juice and cookie before coming in.”

“Good, good. Now we wait, then?”

You sigh, “it appears so.”

Doctor’s offices are not something you ever liked. You always had to go for an annual check-up, and it wasn’t fun to be poked by a needle. Now that you are older, you understand the importance of these visits, but it doesn't mean you have to like it. Harry and you pass the time how you always do with easy conversation and jokes. Your relationship with Harry has always come easy, and it’s something you’re thankful for. It’s how you know he’s your person.

A knock on the door cuts off Harry as he tells you about how Mitch fell into a lake while visiting Sarah’s family during the summer.

“Hi, Ms. Y/LN. I’m Dr. Reynolds, and I will be going over your results with you. Would you like your friend to stay or go?”

You glance at Harry, and he shrugs, leaving the choice up to you. “Harry’s my partner. He’s staying,” you inform the Dr.

“Very well.” Dr. Reynolds looks down at his clipboard before looking at you. “After your intake, our initial thought was that you were showing signs of pregnancy. After a few exams, the test came back negative. Your blood tests also came back and showed us a negative result. We were able to see that you have low iron levels. It’s anemia, and there’s a certain level you need to be at, and you fall right below. Has there been a change in your life? Maybe your diet?”

That was a lot to take in. From a spare second thinking, you might be pregnant to being told you’re not and having a diagnosis in a matter of an hour. You glance at Harry, and he’s frowning because he must feel some kind of blame. You moved in with him over six months ago and have begun eating less meat and more greens. It’s been a healthy balance, but you clearly lacked nutrients.

“I’ve cut back on my meat intake but mostly eating out,” you inform your doctor.

Dr. Reynolds nods, “that can be a big change for your body to get used to. I recommend you stick with it as it’ll be healthier for your overall health but try eating more beans, lentils, and seafood if you aren’t doing meat.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you tell him gratefully.

“You’ll have to take the supplements for six months. After two months, your iron levels balance back to normal, but you will need help rebuilding more. That is when I’ll have you in for your next check-up.”

“That sounds good,” you nod and give Harry a squeeze on his hand.

“Good. Please make an appointment with Annie at the front desk.”

The doctor excuses himself, leaving you and Harry alone. You had been allowed to dress earlier. Harry helps you into your cardigan as you slip on your loafers.

“Poppet?” You call for Harry quietly, unsure of what he’s thinking. “You alright?”

He sighs, letting himself sink into the chair, his face falling into his hands. Now you’re really worried.

“Don’t make me kneel on this dirty hospital floor to get you to look at me,” you threaten.

Harry lifts his head a few seconds after. His eyes are red and glossy. “Poppet, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You hurry forward, settling in his lap. One of his hands wraps around your waist, and the other rests on your thigh. He anchors himself to you.

“We—I-I thought you might be pregnant,” he breathed out.

“Relieved?” You question because it’s not something you’ve talked about, at least not for some time. You both shared that you’d like to whether you’re married or not in a few years. It is something you both were open to.

Harry shakes his head, “I–I was shocked at how much I wanted it.”

His confession does not startle you because as you were mentioning all the symptoms you have been feeling the past few days to the nurse, the thought crossed your mind.

“Harry? What are you saying?”

Harry lifts your hands to his mouth, placing delicate kisses, “we’ve been living together, but I-I think. No, I know I’d love to have a baby with you. To grow our family.”

You sit there surprised, not expecting your day to turn out like this, but your life with Harry was something you loved. You were a family together, you and him. To think about adding a new family member seems perfect.

“A baby, you want to have a baby?”

“If you aren’t ready or don’t want to, I promise that doesn’t change anything for me,” he assures you.

The thing is that when the nurse mentioned the possibility of you being pregnant, a small part of you wondered what would happen if you were pregnant.

“I want to grow our family, Harry.”

“Yeah, baby? You do.”

You nod, your eyes welling up with tears. “I-I obviously have to get better first, but I can talk with the nurse about going off my birth control.”

Harry’s hands cradle your face leaning your forehead against his. “Want to have a baby with me?”

“More than anything,” you whisper.

Harry kisses you, and you get lost in the promise of the future that starts with you and him.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blrub #harry styles fanfic #harry one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic rec #harry blurb

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