#tw intense injury

[duskyskye]

So, after creating Gale, my brain decided that I needed to create a Fell version of him. After a couple months of toiling away, I’m happy to introduce the world to Wren! Below are a few headcanons, as well as a synopsis of his backstory. I hope y’all enjoy him! Thank you again to @scrambledmeggys​ for the post artwork!

TWs for HCs include implied child abuse TWs for backstory include no-mercy run mentions, death, child abuse, intense injury, experimental horror, loss of limb due to experimentation

HCs

* He was raised in a lab environment, and was instructed from a young age to learn to speak briefly. He was told it was for the purposes of “quickly telling staff when there’s an emergency” but he knows it was mostly just because the scientists didn’t want to waste their time with the children around them. He can write extended sentences, but when it comes to speaking, he tends to use no more than 3 words at a time. He’s slowly breaking the habit through therapy, but it’s been ingrained into him for a long time and thus still manifests in how he speaks.

* Due to his work in the labs, he gained an immense knowledge of chemistry and anatomy, and now works in pharmaceutical research. He’s not a fan of the greedy practices that are commonplace in the industry, and thus works to create and patent his own medicines to sell at lower cost. 

* He, like Gale, very much enjoys swimming. However, he most prefers roller skating and biking. He enjoys sports that give him a thrill and a sense of motion; it reminds him of his freedom from the Underground and how he can go anywhere he desires.

* He enjoys floral arrangement. Being on the surface exposed him to many varieties of plants, and he became enamored with them; there were so many new species, and in so many different colors and shapes! He found himself collecting them and got into arranging after a bit of research. It’s what most of his expendable budget goes into.

* He’d always wanted a pet when he was little, but a dog seemed like too much energy and cats felt a bit too independent. He decided to look into smaller pets, and that’s how ended up with his 3 guinea pigs; crocus, catmint, and chive. They have a nice, large enclosure and every time Wren gets home, he’s greeted with a chorus of whoops and squeaks.

* He’s also very fond of soft things; pillows, soft fabrics, plushies, flower petals, among other things. He often carries small plushies around in his pocket to just rub and stim when he’s getting worked up about something. 

* He mostly got his jaw piercings to look tough in his Underground, but after a while he did enjoy how they looked and decided to keep them. He’d probably get more if he had a place to put them, but being a skeleton, he has pretty limited options. 

* He’s an avid reader, preferring adventure stories that carry their protagonists to new and exciting places. Once monsters are able to travel, he’d like to visit other countries, and have an adventure of his own. Though ideally with lower stakes and a significantly lower chance of being murdered by deadly pit vipers.

* He has a fascination with other languages. It was something he never really thought about before, but he finds not only their existence, but their wide variety of meanings and structures fascinating. He can spend hours learning about the linguistics of another language, and the culture and influences behind it. He plans to start learning a second language soon, but he’s having a bit of trouble picking just one to learn.

* He doesn’t have the best diet; his sweet tooth is a killer. Beware if you have chocolate-covered fruits anywhere in your house; left unsupervised, they’ll quickly disappear.

* He likes to wear t-shirts with silly puns on their fronts, especially if they’re science-y in nature. He also genuinely gets a laugh from corny memes and jokes. The lightheartedness of it is what he finds most appealing, and sometimes he’ll just giggle out of nowhere as he thinks of a new one.

* He likes to show his affection through his words, but speaking them aloud isn’t really enough for him. He likes to write small notes and leave them somewhere for his loved ones to find, or he’ll give presents with the note attached to them directly. He’s a bit shy about them though, so often it’s the former.

* He isn’t used to interacting with others, so when starting out with him he’ll tend to approach with caution, his limited speech often being firmly in place. Lots of one-word answers and not much emotion in his tone. After a while though, the walls will start to come down. Tapping into his interests or lending a sympathetic ear are the quickest ways to get you on his good side and help him warm up faster.

* Once you are in his good graces, he is incredibly loyal and devoted. Need to talk? He’s there. Need help moving your stuff? He’s on it. Need help doing your taxes? …He’ll give it his best shot.

* He isn’t used to people caring about what he has to say or people listening, as most don’t wait around for him to finish his thoughts with his pausing. He feels like he’s a burden for it. Which is why taking the time to listen to him, to let him fully express himself, will mean the world to him.

Backstory So my Swapfell Paps, Wren, has been in the care of his Sans since he was a babybones, and while Sans kept him out of trouble to an extent in their early years, eventually both end up being recruited by Toriel. My SF Toriel runs a recruitment program to find the strongest monsters for her guard, and the brightest for her royal labs. Sans is recruited into the army due to a demonstration of high magical prowess in spite of low HP, and Wren into the science program to eventually become a royal scientist due to his technical know-how. This is where he meets his Undyne. The brothers are separated as a result, but are allowed to maintain contact via letters.

While Toriel is impressed by Sans' ability, she is frustrated by his low HP, and eventually he ends up being sent to the lab. The working theory is that if they can divert the pathing of his magic, they may be able to alter HP/ATK/DEF stats to higher than what they may be naturally by taking from his other stats. Wren finds out about this, and as a result volunteers in Sans' place. This is unknown magic, and he feels he owes it to his brother for keeping him safe all these years. Plus he has higher HP, so if it ends up depleting his supply, he's much less likely to be killed. The experiment ends up semi-successful; his HP is exchanged for higher attack, but with the lower magic supply to his body, his magic must cover a smaller volume of dust. He ends up losing the lower half of his right arm in the process. He learns how to manifest an ecto arm for powerful final attacks, but it requires a lot of energy and as such is used as last-resort only.

Eventually both Sans and Wren complete their training. Both are also emotionally stunted from their training, and thus when they're assigned to Snowdin, it takes them quite a bit of time to adapt. Wren, who begins implementing new tech/traps into Snowdin, makes friends gradually with the guard dogs he meets at work and, being dogs, they easily warm up to him and drag him out of that shell. He becomes more casual, begins to hang out at the nearby bar, and eventually befriends some of the locals. Sans, in contrast, is immensely guilty over his brother losing his arm, and thus becomes more detached from him and others. He throws himself into his duties, determined to make up for his perceived shortcomings that have been imposed on him by Toriel and other guards.

Eventually when the human comes, they begin a genocide route. Wren and Sans are alerted to this, and both attempt to detain them. Sans is defeated in the process, angering Wren and causing him to use his final attack on the human. He manages to knock them unconscious, and immediately escorts them to the queen. The queen and the human make a “deal” (though it’s more through force than anything) and the human is used to help Toriel cross the barrier. Eventually she returns, breaking the barrier and freeing monsterkind.

Monsters find themselves not quite knowing what to do. It’s eventually decided that the monsters with the lowest amount of LV will go first to try and establish peace with the humans. Wren and Undyne are among them, being scientists with a sheltered upbringing free of most of the violence the Underground brought. It takes years for monsters to integrate, operating out of the underground as they adjust to living in a society that is no longer “kill-or-be-killed”. Wren, with his brother gone and life spent in labs and away from other children, hermits himself a bit., not quite knowing how to socialize with anyone, let alone humans. He moves in with Undyne into a shared apartment, and upon meeting humans comes off very cold, his speech pattern not exactly helping. He learns to socialize and be cordial, but the walls are gonna take a lot of work to knock down.

#Wren #Undertale #Swapfell Papyrus #Swapfell #Papyrus #My OC #Dusky's OC #tw child abuse #tw death #tw no mercy run #tw intense injury #tw loss of limb #tw experimentation #tw experimental horror

[theramblingvoid]

Low level/continuous pain tips for writing

Want to avoid the action movie effect and make your character's injuries have realistic lasting impacts? Have a sick character you're using as hurt/comfort fodder? Everyone has tips for how to write Dramatic Intense Agony, but the smaller human details of lasting or low-level discomfort are rarely written in. Here are a few pain mannerisms I like to use as reference:

General

Continuously gritted teeth (may cause headaches or additional jaw pain over time)

Irritability, increased sensitivity to lights, sounds, etc

Repetitive movements (fidgeting, unable to sit still, slight rocking or other habitual movement to self-soothe)

Soft groaning or whimpering, when pain increases or when others aren't around

Heavier breathing, panting, may be deeper or shallower than normal

Moving less quickly, resistant to unnecessary movement

Itching in the case of healing wounds

Subconsciously hunching around the pain (eg. slumped shoulders or bad posture for gut pain)

Using a hand to steady themself when walking past walls, counters, etc (also applies to illness)

Narration-wise: may not notice the pain was there until it's gone because they got so used to it, or may not realize how bad it was until it gets better

May stop mentioning it outright to other people unless they specifically ask or the pain increases

Limb pain

Subtly leaning on surfaces whenever possible to take weight off foot/leg pain

Rubbing sore spots while thinking or resting

Wincing and switching to using other limb frequently (new/forgettable pain) or developed habit of using non dominant limb for tasks (constant/long term pain)

Propping leg up when sitting to reduce inflammation

Holding arm closer to body/moving it less

Moving differently to avoid bending joints (eg. bending at the waist instead of the knees to pick something up)

Nausea/fever/non-pain discomfort

Many of the same things as above (groaning, leaning, differences in movement)

May avoid sudden movements or turning head for nausea

Urge to press up against cold surfaces for fever

Glazed eyes, fixed stare, may take longer to process words or get their attention

Shivering, shaking, loss of fine motor control

If you have any more details that you personally use to bring characters to life in these situations, I'd love to hear them! I'm always looking for ways to make my guys suffer more write people with more realism :)

#voidrambles #writing #whump #does this count as that? whatever those folks will probably enjoy it at any rate #this is honestly mostly for my own reference but i hope it can maybe help some other people too :) #I'm so pulled in by books that write pain in a human and detailed way and not just when it's dramatic or intense #would love to see more of that and incorporate it into my own writing #oh i should have added. distraction seeking to that list #like writing a really long post about. #...yes i may be chronically ill and having a flare today and yes i may be farming myself for writing tips for Future Me hdgfhfhsjs #but hey gotta do your research somewhere babeyyy it all goes in the creativity soup #tw injury #tw illness

[thebramblewood]

Our girl coming in hot with the understatement of the century.

Previous / Next

Helena: [hisses in pain as hot water hits wounds] What the... There's no fucking way.

[investigating in mirror] Yep, this is not good. Not good at all.

Now, where did you come from? [picks up letter addressed with her name]

-

Dear Helena,

If you are reading this letter, I will admit I am relieved, though I cannot say for certain whether your survival is more blessing or curse. I know you must be confused. God only knows how much of the night you even remember.

My sister misled you about who and what we are, which was no accident on her part, even if the dreadful mistake that followed was. I can hardly cast stones for I did nothing to stop her and, in fact, committed an unforgivable sin myself in attempting to undo what she had done, though I very well knew it would turn you into a monster against your will.

I will put it to you bluntly: Lilith and I have been vampires for some 100 years, and faced with your otherwise certain demise, I chose to make you one too. You may not believe me. It will feel like a bad flu for a day or two; then it will feel like the heat of 1000 fires blazing inside.

You will desire answers. I compel you to seek them elsewhere. Lilith has her mind set on having you and, if she knows you are alive, will not take no for an answer. I can only deceive her so long, as vampires are inextricably tied to their creators. As surely as I will soon know your fate, so will she, for she is my maker and cannot keep out of my head.

I am truly sorry, though it must offer little consolation. You do not deserve this eternally damned existence, but you also did not deserve to die. You see the bind I was caught in. All I can do now is urge you to make the most of this truly terrible hand we have all been dealt.

Regretfully,

Caleb Vatore

-

Helena: Well, shit.

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 story #simblr #story: hzid #helena zhao #injury tw #she's definitely still in shock and denial mode #gonna take her a minute to process #i love how caleb took the time to clean himself and helena up AND sit down to type her a long letter just in case she was alive #(though i think he only wrote it because he knew she was) #as for the lack of brevity you can take the guy out of the 1900s but you can't take the 1900s out of the guy #btw the first picture is my favorite use of relight so far #most of the time it's been too subtle but i think that's been on me being afraid to set the intensity too high

[sharksnshakes]

Survivor! Reader Being Used As A Shield! HCs - Pyramid Head

Pyramid Head isn’t in Silent Hill anymore, but it won’t stop him from exacting justice where he sees fit.   

A/N; i wish i was built like that. anyway. since pyramid head’s whole thing is justice, i think he’d step in if he saw one survivor be betrayed by another. inspired by this post!!   

Wordcount; 496

TW; dead by daylight typical violence, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, death, a few curse words, disturbing themes 

Nobody is the fog is particularly friendly, but you hadn’t expected your teammate to shove you directly into Pyramid Head’s path. 

His blade arcs through the air, sending you to the ground from the sheer force behind his blow. Great! Now you’ve been stabbed in the back and in the front! 

Surprisingly enough, the killer doesn’t strike again. In fact, as he pulls the blade from you, you swear he’s more confused than you are. 

He stands there for a moment--if he had a face, it’d probably be screwed up in some hard to read expression--before hefting the massive blade over his shoulder and storming off. Storming off after your teammate, more specifically. 

Is he toying with you?

Is he saving you for last? 

You don’t know, and quite frankly, you don’t care; you’ve got an opportunity to find the escape hatch and you’re sure as hell gonna take it. 

Not long into your search, you hear a scream. Distantly, you recognize it as your teammate’s. Huh. Maybe it’s kismet. 

A little while after that, another one of your teammates starts to scream, too... and within minutes, all of your team has been Mori’d. It seems that the Executioner has picked them off one by one, and judging by the volume and duration of the screams you heard, it was pretty damn brutal. 

That’s when heavy footsteps thunder behind you. 

There’s a telltale drag of the killer’s blade against the ground, tearing up the earth in its path; he’s upon you in a minute, grabbing you by the scruff of your neck and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

Pyramid Head is absolutely soaked in crimson. The metallic stench slaps you in the face, and as he carries you, it almost feels like he’s trying to... hold you steady? 

You’re far too wounded to put up a fight, figuring he’ll hook you ASAP. But he stalks past several hooks, not bothering to hang you up on one, and stops abruptly.   

Will the Executioner’s going to kill you once and for all?

You can’t see much from where you’re positioned, but hear his blade fall to the ground with a dull thunk. There’s a creaking noise, you feel the muscles in the killer’s back shift, and another dull thud follows the first. 

Pyramid Head reaches back, pulling you from his shoulder effortlessly. You hang in the air for a moment, taking stock of the situation: you can finally see where you are... and the killer’s brought you right to the escape hatch! 

He’s a sight to behold, drenched in sticky blood and watching you (that is, if he even has eyes). After a long moment, he quite literally tosses you into the hatch.   

The next thing you know, you’re staring at the campfire, wounds perfectly healed. 

...Weird. Not that you’re complaining.  

#dbd x reader #dbd x you #dbd imagines #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head x you #pyramid head imagine #dead by daylight #pyramid head #tw violence #tw injury #tw blood #tw death #tw cursing #disturbing themes #pyramid head is intense y'all #like damn... #okay king go off

[random-fandom-whump]

SEAL Team S06E01 (✚)

#seal team #whumpedit #clay spenser #max thieriot #gore tw #leg injury #battlefield injury #aftermath of explosion #field care #self care #splint #pressure bandage #bandages #pain #heavy breathing #war #ep: low impact #seal team 6x01 #this was intense #this will probably be the only set i make of the actual injury #the rest was too much #even for me

[silverwingborn]

“Sever the Ties”

Drabble from Silver’s past, back when she was still alive on Earth and traveling with her Nephilim flock.

TW: violence, gaslighting, abuse, injury, blood, trauma

The lock clicked open, her hand turning the knob and pushing the door inward. Silver stepped inside her apartment, expelling an exhausted breath. Slinging her pack off and tossing it on the floor, she kicked the door closed behind her with a heel. Dancing her fingers along the wall she reached blindly for the light switch. What a stupid setup this place was. Who installs a light switch so far from the front door? Finally her fingers grazed the switch, flicking it upwards.

The entry way remained dark.

“What the hell?” Silver flipped the toggle up and down to test it wasn’t just faulty wiring. The damn light was out. Groaning with annoyance, the Nephil felt her way along the wall as she strode for the next switch in the living room. The dark curtains of her apartment windows were drawn, only the edges haloed by a thin light. Finding the standing lamp, Silver felt for the turn switch, but no light was produced. Her entire apartment was without power.

“Damn it, this is not my day!” Producing a silvery flame in the palm of her hand, it produced enough glow, much like a candle stick. The glow and flickering of the flame danced light upon her brunette hair and blue-grey eyes. Sure she could produce her own light source, but it was not ideal by any means. If it’s a fuse that’s blown, she’d have to call the landlord-

“You always like to play with fire.”

The deep, husky voice of a man alarmed Silver, spinning around as the flame in her palm exploded into a small inferno. It was swiftly snuffed out by a cold, deliberate gust, the sound of a large wing sweeping the air and then folding once more. Cast into darkness, Silver could only see his eyes glowing across the room. A honey golden hue that stared unblinking, unemotional back at her. The Nephil felt a rise of anger, balling her fists as she shouted at the intruder.

“Damnit Faller! I told you not to sneak up on me like that! Did you kill my power? Again?! Jesus, man, you did this at the last place. I had to pay out of my own pocket for the repairs.”

The pair of glowing eyes slowly blinked before the sound of Faller’s body rising from the couch could be heard. The furniture creaked and groaned, as if crying out in relief the large man had finally gotten off of it. His eyes now stared down at Silver from across the room, his form barely silhouetted in the dark. He stood a hulking 6’10”, a towering man compared to the 5’6” woman. In three strides Faller stood before Silver, the heat of his body radiating so close against her own that she knew he must be inches apart.

“I see you took a trip,” he spoke smoothly, ignoring her quips about the power. The female Nephil’s eyes darted quickly to the bag in the hall she’d slung off, then quickly back to her flock leader. It was pointless to lie.

“Y-yes. Just a short one. I-I was only gone several days.”

“I know. You’d packed essential things. It was obvious you had no plans to come back from a short excursion.” There was no malice in his tone, simply observant and stating the facts. Reaching a hand out, his long fingers brushed past her cheek to glide through her brunette locks. His radiant eyes narrowed and Silver thought she could make out a grin in the darkness of his face.

“I was worried about you. You’d left the safety of your hiding grounds without consulting me. Why is that, my dearest?”

Her fingers smoothed over the fabric of Faller’s shirt as he pressed himself against her. They’d been intimate like this a few times. The gentle caresses and feeling of his hot breath upon her skin fed a deep hunger in Silver. The need to be touched, to be held, to feel loved more than just another flock member. A yearning for a partner. Faller never went far with his physical endearment, but his words always dripped with honey and lavender. A sweet calm that made the rest of the world disappear if only for a couple breathes.

“I didn’t want to bother you. It was just a short excursion. Trust me, I won’t do it again.”

“Oh you never bother me with your honesty, my shining light. And you’ll always be honest with me, won’t you?”

Words caught in her throat as Faller dipped his head, pressing his forehead against hers. Silver stared deeply back into his eyes, her own wide and vulnerable. Between her legs she him move his knee, keeping them pinned in place. She was utterly at his mercy now. Her heart thudded rapidly, the flow of adrenaline fueling this new excitement. Silver craved this, and yet had the nagging doubt she didn’t deserve him. Faller was far superior and better than her in every way. Stronger, faster, skilled beyond his age, a leader that lead his flock with confidence. She was a mere songbird and he was the eagle.

“Our flock may be apart for now, until the threat of the angels has passed. But we are always going to be your family.”

“I-I know. I miss my family so much-“

A flicker of light flashed in Faller’s eyes, like distant lightning of an impending storm. His mouth parted into a grin, expression empathetic to her longing. The fingers in her hair remained, entangling further to support her at the back of her head. His free hand rubbed gently up her arm, past her shoulder and came to rest at the nape of neck. A finger lifted to trace the tattoo on the side of her neck, where the concealed lightning like scars hid beneath the ink. Silver gasped softly, feeling the familiar hot tingling of his “gift”, the spot hypersensitive now after his bite and magic transfer.

The leader chuckled deeply, amused with her reaction.

“I felt such pride the day I shared my gift with you. My belief it will make you stronger, to excel your powers potential. I chose you, and no one else. Our flock has only grown stronger since we welcomed you in. Embraced you without merit and loved you fiercely.”

His large hand lifted from the mark to lift her chin until their lips remained inches apart. In a low, whispered voice, he spoke.

“And you repay us with treason.”

Silver’s brow furrowed, confused by his accusation.

“What? No. No I haven’t-“

“Oh but you have, Arianell. You disobeyed our flocks rule.”

Excitement quickly melted into anxiousness and embarrassment. Faller never used her true name, not after she renamed herself as the right to leave her past behind. He knew she went back to her home? To see her mother?

“Faller, I-”

“When we took you in we made it clear that we are your family now. All that was would remain in the past. You made your choice. You agreed to the flocks terms. And now, you have risked everyone’s lives with your selfishness.”

“No! That’s not true!”

His large hand swiftly gripped her jaw, the honey golden hues glowing fiercely. In them she say a storm swiftly building. Silver was frozen with fear. There was no escaping from Faller, never. The songbird was in the eagles claws now.

“I ask for your honesty and you cannot even offer that? Something so simple, and yet you use your silver tongue to spin lies and deceit. You deceived the flock, Silver. You turned your back on us all not once, not twice, but three times!”

The female Nephil yelped as she felt Faller’s sharp claw like nails dig into her scalp, hair gripped painfully tight. Shaking her head only increased the pain, forcing her to remain still and unable to avoid his venomous stare. Her hands feebly pushed against his chest, pulled at the hand that gripped her jaw. It was like fighting a marble statue. Tears began to roll down Silver’s face, her eyes terrified and words pleading.

“I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to endanger anyone. I never intended to cause potential harm! I-I just wanted to see my mother again.”

Dark wings flared behind Faller, rippling with electricity, the air in the room dropping dangerously cold. The sparks rolled over his feathers like a thundercloud, casting him and Silver into a ominous flickering glow. The lightning scars upon her neck took on the same glow, sending out electric shocks painfully into her body.

“You refuse to sever the ties of your past to rise to a future, Silver. And in doing so you take your whole flocks lives into your hands. A traitor, a liar, and a deceiver to us all. The angels could have found you. Followed you back to our flock. And all you have to say for it is “sorry?”

“Faller stop! Y-you’re hurting me! It hurts!”

She felt a sharp pain in the side of her jaw as Faller’s sharp thumb claw like nail pierced her skin. The blood drawn was crimson, running down his thumb and over his hand.

“Will you endanger our flock again?”

“NO!”

“Will you continue to be a liar and dishonest to us?”

“I WON’T!”

“Will you sever the ties to your past that you’ve so foolishly held onto?”

“I…”

Fallers thumb slide down and under her jaw, stopping at her throat. Blood seeped and dripped freely down her neck and spattered on her clothing. Silver sobbed, unable to struggle away. Crying for help would do no good either. A human was nothing more than a meat sack to a Nephil’s strength and power.

“I WILL SEVER THE TIES! I-I WON’T SEE HER AGAIN! I WON’T GO BACK TO MY OLD LIFE!”

“Swear it. Swear it on your LIFE. Swear it to ME. To your FLOCK. To the FAMILY YOU CHOSE!

“I SWEAR! I S-SWEAR ON MY LIFE! IT BELONGS ONLY TO THE FLOCK. TO YOU. I SWEAR I WILL NEVER BREAK THE RULES AGAIN!”

He leaned in close until he could whisper in her ear, his words coiled with a lethal edge.

“You will uphold this promise. If not, I will defend this flock by all means necessary. May this mark serve as a reminder.”

Silver felt his hands and body leave her, allowing the woman to collapse to the floor. On her knees, she clutched at the blood that poured freely from the long gaping wound. She looked up fearfully at Faller as he loomed over her, his eyes narrowed and body standing stoically.

“I will come for you when it is safe again for our flock to reconvene. You will remain here and not leave the safety of this town again. Understood?”

“Y-yes flock leader…”

The rolling lightning over his wings began to brighten and intensify, snapping and crackling in the air of the room. The light fixtures flickered wildly around them.

“Fair flight and may Heaven never see you, Arianell.”

In a flash and rumble of thunder that shook the building, Faller was gone. All the lights in the apartment complex burst, the distant shouts of tenants filling the quiet building. Silver remained on the floor, clutching the open wound as she sobbed. Wracked with guilt and fear, the Nephil knew she could never see her mother again. This was the one and only warning she would receive. Her leader had given her a merciful second chance. She would not betray her flock again. The only family she had now…

#ic #drabble #iisms: silvers flock #faller musings #(I haven’t written a Drabble in years let alone this intense of angst) #(I’m tagging everything under the sun in case lol) #violence tw #blood tw #abuse tw #trauma tw #gaslighting tw #injury tw #restraint tw

[chloroformcurry]

I.C.U., Pandora

#cw hospital #tw hospital #art #digital art #character design #oc #my oc #oc lore #oc trauma #hospital #intensive care unit #cw injury #original character #carboncopycomic

[akiyaswrites]

Welcome to Xyn.

Stories of Xyn: The Origin and the Absolution is the first book in the Stories of Xyn series.

In Xyn, you are what The Council makes of you. Xyn is home to the Xynites, a society that does its best to please The Council. The Council controls each citizen’s Board of Choice, a cognitive response device that determines when and how Xynites make decisions, from the mundane to the crucial.

Xyn’s population consists of two main groups, Xynites formed on Xyn and those who arrived on Xyn from planets throughout the Ursa Ro star system. The Council, a governmental body, was created to maintain the balance of society. Together, co-founders Edyn Maternys and Sylas Huxley invented the Board of Choice. This cognitive response device determines when and how Xynites make decisions, from the mundane to the crucial.

As remnants of Earth begin to find their way into Xynite society, peace begins to break down. Cayn Armistyce, a Human-born Xynite elite and right-hand person for The Council, is tasked with controlling the Board of Choice for Indygo Symon Dawkyns Vega, a fiery soul with a disdain for authority.

Life begins to intertwine for Cayn, Indygo, and their companions. The future of Xyn is theirs for the taking, but the past and present want a cut-in, too.

This story, told from multiple perspectives across several timelines, is a journey to save what the soul cares most for - memories.

…

“The absence of adaptation in a place where change is a constant will kill you. May her ability rise above her predicament.”

Read along and stay updated on my World Anvil.

#xyn #storiesofxyn #dystopia #sci fi oc #science fiction #dystopian fiction #android #time travel #lgbtq romance #lgbtq #lgbtq fiction #fantasy #emotional #dark #intense #tw: sui ideation #tw: injury #wip update #writing #writeblr #amwriting #world anvil

[gildead]

CONTENT WARNING: THE FOLLOWING DRABBLE CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE AND DISCUSSION OF ANIMAL/POKEMON ABUSE. READER DESCRIPTION IS ADVISED.

Part 1 Part 2 (you are here)! Part 3 (MASSIVE GRAPHIC CONTENT WARNING. PLEASE SEE TAGS FOR DETAILS.) Part 4

It was worse. So much worse than he thought.

Gold's first instinct was to grab a Hyper Potion from his bag in order to address the Wigglytuff's injuries. He approached her as she sat down on the picnic blanket. Forever coiled his body around the Wigglytuff to help her sit up, his tail pressed to the ground. He nudged her to face Gold with his snout, gently so as to not hurt her. He remembered being in this position before as a Houndour.

If anybody could help her, surely it would be his trainer! Right?

"C-can you open your mouth?" Gold asked in a soft voice.

The Wigglypuff did so, and Gold immediately wished he never asked.

No wonder she was in so much pain, Gold realized as his stomach lurched horribly. What a lot of people didn't realize was that the Wigglytuff line had flexible, inflatable bodies for a good reason: to protect their fragile internal organs and skeletons. Legitimate Pokémon battles, even with Wild Pokémon, had been shaped through years of League regulations preventing the use of excessive force. Whatever the poor Wigglytuff went through had caused extreme internal injuries, leaving a bloody, gory mess inside her mouth.

She let out a pained wheeze -- far from the melodic tones Pokémon of her species were known for.

"She needs a Pokémon center," Please hissed to Gold. She reached her snout into his bag and slid over his damaged yet still usable PokéGear. "We need the help of the living."

Gold fumbled to the PokéGear, his sleeves scrolling down to find the one connection to his mortal life who knew of his undeath. As he did so, Please lowered herself to the Wigglytuff, her voice lowering. "Now, dear, what happened?" she asked, using the same tone she used when coaxing Hurry to bed, "We're here to help you."

The Wigglytuff moved to speak, only emitting another breathless wheeze from her mangled throat. She was cut off by a sharp cough from Away. "Foolish creature," Celebi scolded, "Do you truly seek to harm yourself further? We will get nowhere if you force yourself to speak."

"She's doing her best." Typhlosion glowered at Celebi.

Celebi sighed dramatically and fluttered over to the Wigglytuff. "I simply believe there is a more sufficient way. Let me read her mind."

Please still looked irritated, but she stepped aside. Celebi had a point; after all, its psychic abilities were how it learned of Gold's plight -- and without them, her beloved trainer would have been condemned to a fate of eternal nothingness. The Time Travel Pokémon reached its single arm out to take Wigglytuff's hand, eye shut in concentration--

And both screamed.

Celebi had barely touched the other Pokémon before it recoiled in horror, nearly falling backwards into Hurry. The tiny spectral Cyndaquil dodged out of the way and hid behind his mother, disturbed. Wigglytuff sunk against Forever again and whined. Gold, startled, dropped his PokéGear into the ground.

"It's okay, Celbi." Hurry waddled to the shaken Celebi. "Just us. No big scary Pokémon coming back to eat you."

"Thank you, young one, but... this was no mere Pokémon at work." Celebi's face darkened as its voice dropped. "But rather... human hands."

Everybody, even the Wigglytuff, went dead silent. So silent, in fact, that the only sound to permeate it... was tearing fabric and breaking bone.

They turned to Gold, whose sleeves had dropped and whose body was showing the wear and tear caused by the monster from long ago. As his pupils vanished, a horde of Unown came bursting out from the wholes of his sleeves, intermingling with one another as they floated above, where the Wigglytuff could read them.

He floated over Wigglytuff, his expression frozen in rage. As she looked up, the message from the Unown became crystal clear.

SHOW ME WHO DID THIS TO YOU.

#MEMORIES ALL TWIST AND SHATTER. drabbles. #NO LONGER GLISTENS. gold. #FOREVER. houndoom. #PLEASE. typhlosion. #HURRY. cyndaquil. #AWAY. celebi. #SABLE. wigglytuff. #WORDS SPELLED UPON THEIR FACES. unown. #blood tw #gore tw #body horror tw #facial horror tw #traumatic injury tw #throat injury tw #animal cruelty tw #animal abuse tw #[[please please PLEASE take the trigger warnings and disclaimer seriously. this and the next one are going to be more intense than usual.]]

[conkniving]

angsty character asks: 1, 5, 25, 30, 31

What would your OC’s last words be/what are they?

the first scenario that sparks to mind is either a climatic altercation or the most pathetic, unlucky situation that both culminate to fallon lying on her back upon the cold, hard earth. light swiftly fading from teary, dark eyes. a hand feebly staunching some grievous wound in her chest or stomach. and with a mirthless chuckle in choked words: "oh, fuck..."

that, or no words at all. it feels very befitting that her demise would come in the form of a slit throat.

Your OC is facing their worst enemy. Who/what is it?

either one of her parents, specifically if they had grown a conscience and were attempting a reconciliation. fallon would sooner go the rest of her days never seeing or hearing of them again. one appearance would be enough to utterly unravel her.

What does your OC love most, and what would they do to keep it?

cerberus, her doberman. and she would do absolutely anything and everything to keep him safe.

Would your OC kill?

fallon has never intentionally killed someone, though there are the possibilities that the consequences of her actions or role in a circumstance may have lead to someone's passing. but if there was reason enough to rid of any hesitance, she is very capable.

Would your OC torture?

yes, and has. but would be considered soft-core. and unfortunately became a skill, if one would call it that, after her own experience receiving it. fallon is what the worlds makes of her.

#( inbox. ) #thank you for these intense asks niek lsdjfsd #injury mention tw

[thethingything]

🍬: would having a dentist almost dislocate your jaw count as a traumatic experience? as in like as he's pushing on the tooth to try and shape the filling he keeps pushing so hard you feel your jaw partly shift out of the socket repeatedly like it does when it's about to dislocate but it just doesn't quite fully pop out of place?

every other alter that's present: ...in what world is that not considered traumatic

#personal #thoughts #Lucy post #vent post #I have no idea what warnings this needs #injury tw #medical malpractice #<- maybe? #anyway yeah we only just remembered this because apparently our brain blocked it out #and then 🍬 had a panic attack out of nowhere with really intense flashbacks to it and good god #we've dislocated our jaw before because we dislocate easily so we know what it feels like and yeah #it definitely came close to dislocating multiple times which would explain why it hurts as bad as it does now #but we can't tell if this is like the dentist being way rougher than normal with it or just our joints being really fucky #because dentists have nearly dislocated our jaw in the past but not in that specific way #ah fuck all of those incidents count as trauma don't they... that would explain some stuff. awesome /s #the know we have EDS as well because we've told them and explained what it does so like. they should know to be extra careful. and yet...

[raceweek]

it has been two weeks but the fact jost capito hasn’t been arrested for going on live tv multiple times to say that he had been to see alex and he was doing well after his surgery and that the normal expectation is for him to be back for singapore when he was literally in the icu is bothering me

#he was right not to disclose the situation at that time #but saying the expectation is he’s back for singapore when he’s in intensive care and he’s stated he has visited him there is so fucking ??? #i want him jailed!! #alongside all of the other freak bosses who don’t understand the concept of recovering #tw hospital mention #tw injury mention

[paldea-champ-n1cki]

😴 / 😨

Good dream: {*Nicki and Sprite are sitting somewhere, talking about Joltik. Most of what Nicki is saying is care tips for them, with some reminiscing thrown in here and there. He eventually asks to hold Static and pets him the rest of the conversation.}

Bad dream: {*Sprite challenges Nicki to a battle, but it gets out of hand. Now Nicki is in his pokémon's place, getting shocked and burned every opponents' turn. He's biting and clawing at the pokémon in front of him, cracking the earth beneath them as he burns them. But it's all in vain, because once the opponent uses a physical attack he's on the ground. He can't get back up, though he's trying his best, before Sprite walks over and crushes Nicki's head below his foot, muttering about how useless Nicki was.}

#pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #pokemon #irl pkmn #pokeblr #[ooc post] #[mod answers] #[Sorry if this is too intense!!! Just ask me to change it if it is!! -mod] #tw injury #tw fighting #tw death

[emmyrosee]

tw// cursing, yelling, long stints of fighting, Kiyoomi is a little toxic, blood, patching up injuries, broken noses, ANGST- please be safe friends ❤️

I talk a lot about Kiyoomi being an amazing sport about your clinginess, your closeness, and your affections, right?

But what about when he's not?

What happens when the one day you try to crawl into his skin, spilling your head over his shoulder and squeezing him tightly, peppering kisses over the side of his face and jawline, and when he asks you to please stop, you don’t.

“You’re just too yummy,” you say happily. You bite his ear, “this is your tax.”

He shrugs you off sharply, “I’m not paying the tax today.”

You stumble back slightly, regaining your footing and taking a step back from him. “I’m sorry… bad day?”

Bad day. Yeah. It was. He can’t fathom how bad today was, how every time he said anything, Miya was right in his ear simply talking, sending shivers of annoyance to course through kiyoomi’s veins. How Bokuto accidentally almost hit the ball straight to his face, his own intensity almost causing Kiyoomi the season. How meian benched him for being too intense, too much and needing to ‘cool off’ with every spike and scowl kiyoomi flails to the other side of the court. How the threats of sending him home for his attitude started, causing Kiyoomi to shut his mouth but white knuckle the rest of the day.

But kiyoomi doesn’t answer that like a normal person.

That would be too easy.

“Maybe I just don’t want you dangling off of me the second I walk in the door.”

His mind screams at him to shut up, but he can’t.

You take a deep breath in, “I didn’t know, I’m sorry. Usually you… you don’t mind-“

“Well maybe I should start minding.”

Shut up.

Your eyes hold betrayal as he spews his venomous words, your chest rising and falling as he balls his fists to try and ground himself.

“I’m sorry. I’ll think more about your feelings when I try to cuddle you.”

“What you do is not cuddling-“ the balled fist slams against the countertop. “It’s clinging. It’s suffocating. It’s ridiculous, and it’s obnoxious-“

“‘Yoomi-“

“And for the love of all that is fucking malevolent would you PLEASE STOP CALLING ME THAT!” He roars. “I gotta deal with it from FUCKING MIYA, now I have to deal with it at HOME FROM YOU?”

You don’t know why you do it. But you flinch.

He’s so loud, so in your face and so mean that it happens without you even knowing you did it, the only indication being that his face instantly drops and pales at the mere idea of you being so afraid of him you flinch.

He says nothing. He can’t. What could he say?

He quickly makes a dash to the door, grabbing the keys dangling from the hook and leaving right then and there, bile rising in his throat and chest swelling with disgust as your terrified face plays over and over, like a movie he can’t turn off because he’s the one who put it on.

He runs. He runs fast and far, down the street and over hills and across crosswalks that don’t permit him from crossing yet, trying to create distance between himself and the monster he was god knows how long ago.

He finds himself- somehow- at work, the bright lights of the arena snapping him back to reality that you’ve been alone for who knows how long, but at least long enough where he’s back at his physical job. On foot.

The gods give him the smallest semblance of mercy as Miya and Hinata are still together, setting and spiking away until their hands grow calloused, cheering with each successive spike sent hurdling to the floor.

Hinata notices the panting Kiyoomi first, his head cocking in concern. “Hey… thought you didn’t want to train with us?”

“You.” Kiyoomi’s dark eyes fall onto Miya, and without even processing the fact that he shouldn’t be doing this, he makes a blind dash at the blonde, who then instinctively runs the other way.

Hinata instinctively darts out of the way, “woah! What! Miya what’s going on!”

“I didn’t do anything!” The blonde whines. “Not this time! I swear!” Hinata scrambles into action, chasing after Kiyoomi who’s on another runners high as he chases his teammate around the linoleum floors of the volleyball court but is still no match for Hinata’s own speed.

Great for Miya Atsumu. Terrible for sakusa Kiyoomi.

Bulky arms wrap around Kiyoomi’s waist and immediately weights around him, slowing him down from skinning Miya alive, “no, sakusa! Enough!”

“I’ll kill him!” He barks at whoever will listen to his threat. “I’LL KILL YOU!” He points a finger at the blonde.

And Hinata’s not proud of it. Honest! But it’s what he had to do to stop his friends from mauling each other, and he trips Kiyoomi flat onto his face, a sickening crunch! under the squishing cartilage of nose and skull slamming into the floor. He lays there in defeat, panting softly into the floor and crying even quieter as his two teammates surround him.

He needed to cry. That’s it. Now that he’s crying, his salty tears mixing with the blood dribbling from his nose and the gash in his head, he feels better, he feels lighter and like he’s finally getting to express every fractal of emotion that surged through his veins all day in what is finally a healthy way.

It only cost you being uncomfortable around him.

He safely decides it’s not worth it.

“Sakusa,” Hinata begins. “What happened?”

“I was cruel,” he says, now wailing into the floor. “They flinched at me. I ruined everything. Again.”

He can’t tell from looking, but he practically feels the weight of understanding fall onto his teammates, a soft ‘ahhh,’ falling from Miya’s lips. He hears the squeak of shoes next to his head, and when his bloody face turns upward to see Miya Atsumu’s calm, non-judgmental features, he cries even harder, his tears mingling with blood as they fall to the floor.

“Go home, Kiyoomi.”

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

“Yes, you should,” Hinata interjects. “You need to be there. I don’t know what happened, or what Atsumu did to piss you off, but I know you want to sort this out.”

“I ran here,” Kiyoomi sniffles. His hand instinctively comes to wipe his nose, the taste of blood filling his throat once he’s finally able to see just the sheer amount he’s bleeding.

“YOU RAN HERE?!”

“I had to. I had to go somewhere.”

“I’ll take him home,” Miya sighs, calmly stepping away for a moment to grab his keys and bag. Hinata claps a large, comforting hand on Kiyoomi’s back, his own feet stepping away as Kiyoomi childishly stays on the floor, blood trickling onto his lips and down his chin. He’s gonna have a gash in his head for sure, maybe even a black eye, and he hopes you’re open to taking him to the hospital to get it clean.

The car ride back home is silent, save for the occasional sniffles coming from Kiyoomi and his pinched nose, stuffed with bloody toilet paper. Miya keeps his car surprisingly clean, it smells like pine and citrus and it cuts through the tension and pounding in kiyoomis head from the smell. He doesn’t know when, but Kiyoomi mumbles a soft “I’m sorry” at some point.

Miya chuckles, “you’re having a bad day. We all get those. You ain’t special.” It makes Kiyoomi chuckle softly, for the first time in what feels like days. When the car rolls up to your shared house, kiyoomi shakily gets out of the car, slamming the door closed and leaving Miya to drive off.

“Kiyoomi?”

“What?”

“You come at me like that again, I’ll give you another black eye.”

Kiyoomi chuckles and shakes his head at the blonde, “you’d never even get a shot in.” He rolls his shoulders, sniffles back a little bit more blood, and makes his way inside, shaky hands opening the door and stalking in like a zombie.

When he comes into your view, you’re quick to get on your feet, getting up to fuss over him.

“Fucks sake,” you gasp, cupping his cheeks and inspecting the dried blood over his face. “You leave for two hours and come back beaten up?”

“I fell.” Not really a lie.

“Yeah, don’t care,” you snap, grabbing his wrist and tugging him to the bathroom. “Let me clean you up. Is your nose broken?”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

You groan and gently grab the bridge of his nose, and he whines and reels his head back petulantly out of pain. “Ow.”

“Yeah. Go to the doctors, Kiyoomi.”

Kiyoomi.

Shit.

“Please come with me?”

He sees you tense up as you grab a wet towel, pausing your movements and taking in a deep breath to calm down, “yeah. Yeah I’ll go.”

“Hold my hand when I’m scared?” He tries to joke.

You don’t laugh. You don’t say anything. You dab the blood from his lips and chin, careful of his nose and the bruising around his eye. “I don’t know where you fell but you’ve got a black eye blooming.”

He tucks his swollen lip into his teeth nervously, “I ran to Miya.”

“Osamu?”

“No. Atsumu.”

Your hand pauses again, “did he hit you?”

“No. He’d never.” Even if he did deserve a smack coming to him.

You roll your eyes and escort him out of the bathroom, “come on. I’ll drive.”

The drive to the hospital is silent.

The waiting room is silent between you both.

Sitting in the doctor’s office is silent, save for the crunching of his nose as his doctor recenters his nose and he whines in pain. You do squeeze his hand through the pain, even if he doesn’t deserve your kindness.

The ride home is silent.

Your walk to your bedroom is silent, and as Kiyoomi sets up a bed on the couch is silent.

The next few days are silent. Kiyoomi can’t play due to his nose, leaving him to merely watch on the sides with a protective splint covering the bone. At home, it’s no better, with you dodging his kisses and affections with no indications you’ll ever want them again.

He wonders, briefly, if this is it. You realize you’re too good for him, worth more than a man who plays volleyball and screams at people, you deserve the stars and moon and you’re not getting it from him.

Between losing you and volleyball, he hopes its punishment enough

He can’t take it anymore. He’s lost the two loves of his life in the span of four hours, over a stupid mistake he made his bed with.

It’s been four days; you haven’t said six words to him, and he doesn’t even bother trying to get affection from you, he knows better than that. But he’s yearning for you, and while he’d never force anything onto you, he just wants to know:

Is there anything worth salvaging? Or is it just an exhaustive task, one he already knows the answer to, and you’re just too kind to tell him in person?

He needs to find out.

“Smells good in here,” he says quietly, looking at you with optimistic eyes. You give him a shrug back and continue to dress the warm bread with garlic and butter. “What’re you making?”

“I… I uhm saw a thing online on how to make bread shaped like a frog,” you say, turning back to it quietly. “Thought it would be fun.”

“It’s cute.”

“Thanks.”

The room is quiet, and when Kiyoomi hesitantly leans in for a kiss, you turn away, not ready for his affections yet.

Maybe ever again.

“I would like to kiss you,” he says, pleadingly.

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

“That’s okay. Can I… can I hug you?”

At the idea of being trapped in his arms, you shake your head, pushing him away and trying to make some distance. He obeys, but as you continue to shove him, he suddenly tries to intervene

“Please, stop,” he chokes, grabbing your hands to still you.

“Stop what?” You ask, even though you know the answer. Your hands do stop shoving him, but you avoid his gaze intently.

He sighs shakily, “I love you. I love you and every part of you. I love when you try to get inside of my skin and take my socks off with your toes. I like when you pick my nose and tickle me because I hate it, I like it when you sniff me, please just love me again.

I was so agitated that day, and that wasn’t your fault, and now I’ve ruined us because I was cruel. But please,” he collapses to his knees and wraps his arms around your legs, “just love me again. You’re safe, and it’s okay. Please.”

You don’t return his emotion, having been hurt by showing it before has made the feeling sour. “Kiyoomi-“

“It’s ‘yoomi. What happened to yoomi, why won’t you call me that anymore?”

“You screamed it out of my vocabulary, in case you forgot,” you snap. He squeezes your legs tighter like a child. “You don’t get to keep doing this. You don’t get to decide one day to snap or tell me know about something I’m doing, then a few days later tell me you miss doing it. For fucks sake, I flinched!” He starts to tremble against your legs. “And now you tell me you want to go back to how it was! You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll try my hardest to be better for you. A better man. A better boyfriend.”

“There’s almost no way for you to be worse.”

This time, he lets you go and stands up. His eyes are swollen with tears, the dark irises even deeper from the reddening of his scleras. “So, what?” He begins, voice wobbly. “We’re just never going to show affection again? Be in loveless love? Is that my punishment?”

“It’s NOT THAT BLACK AND WHITE!” You yell, losing your composure for the first time that fight. Your hands come down to grip and smack the bread against the counter, ruining it and sending crumbs flying everywhere. You sigh and lazily throw it in the sink in defeat, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “You sincerely think I wouldnt love nothing more than to wrap MY arms around you, squish your cheeks in MY hands, crawl into YOUR lap and cuddle when you get home? You think I wanted to make bread shaped like a fucking frog for fun? NO! I’m doing it, because YOU told me YOU didn’t want me to DO THOSE THINGS!”

“I was wrong!” He yells back. “I’m sorry!”

“THAT DOESNT MEAN IT WAS STILL OKAY TO DO!”

The room is silent. Too silent. Theres a rattling of dishes that can be heard from your screams of agony, a cabinet creaks and somewhere away, the dryer dings to signal its contents to be done.

Kiyoomi takes a deep inhale in through his nose to keep himself grounded, and you watch with balled fists. “I want you to feel like you have space. You deserve that. But you also need to know you’re endgame for me. You’re the only one I want, the only one who makes me feel excited to wake up in the morning and slip into sleep at night. And if this is it for us, you need to know that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

You give him a sad, shaky sigh.

“I made a mistake. I made you feel unsafe in your own home. You never deserved that, never deserved that level of cruelty. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” you murmur.

“Do you need me to stay with Bokuto for a few nights?”

“No.”

“Do you need me to sleep on the couch?”

“…no… I don’t think so.”

He tears up at the idea you’re not completely upset with him, enough to sleep next to him in the same house. “What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?” He chews at his swollen lip, “I want to help you be comfortable around me again. Please.”

You gnaw at your lip as you process his words, and with a small shake of your head, you slowly, almost so slowly he doesn’t see it, slink towards him, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. When his arms loosely slither around your waist, you tighten, but you don’t stop him.

It feels foreign, but so right at the same time. His swirling head is finally stilled. The demons stop their bark as you bury your face in his chest, sniffling softy in the fabric.

“Last time you left,” you begin. “You came home with a black eye from Miya. I’d hate to see what happens if you come home from Bokuto’s.”

“Okay, hold on, it was not from Miya.”

The change in tone has you laughing in his arms, and he tries to keep cool and not immediately pull you into a spine crushing hug that’ll spook you away from him again. He can’t help himself though, from rubbing his face against you and taking inhales of your scent, the shrieking and howling in his mind finally going quiet at the contact of you.

“Kiyoomi?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever talk to me like that again, I’ll give you another black eye.”

He chuckles and does, finally, squeeze you tighter, “I don’t blame you for a second.”

#WHEEEEEEEEEEEE #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader fluff #sakusa kiyoomi imagine #sakusa kiyoomi haikyuu #sakusa #sakuss fluff #sakusa angst #sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #sakusa x reader angst #sakusa x gn!reader #sakusa imagine #sakusa haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x y/n #angst to comfort #angst to fluff

[magics-neptunes-things]

Calm After Storm

Hi guys!

It was way too long since I didn't write for Leah, so here is a sweet little thing.

I'm so happy Arsenal won yesterday, even if I almost cry three times and had two hearts attacks. And of course I think about Frida, hopping she's ok :(

TW : Lover fight, Angst.

______________________________________________________________

Leah is intense. Always have, always been and that’s how you love her. You love how much she can be passionate about everything she’s doing. You love her love for football, for her family, for her friends. She is always here to help her relatives for everything. She’s here for her grandmother when she needs help for groceries, she’s here when her mother can’t walk their dog, she’s here to get her brother to the airport at 8 in the morning even if she played a game the night before, she’s here to support her teammates through injuries.

She’s everywhere she can be, at every time.

You, in another hand, you’re calmer. You’re a little shy and need some time to observe the people you don’t know before opening up. You are as affectionate and attentive to your loved one than Leah, but in a more discreet way.

Those differences are the meanly reasons of why you didn’t understand at first why Leah seems interested in you. You met her thanks to your friend Lotte and Leah took the time to talk to you every time you came to watch Lotte plays. When Leah did her ACL, she attends almost every game, and you talk a lot during this time. That’s where she asks you out for the first time, after having asking Lotte if you are into girls.

You said yes, obviously.

If you didn’t think that Leah must be interested in you, you were deeply charmed by the personality of the blonde. She’s funny, intelligent, great to talk to and you have a lot in common. And yes, you must admit that you find her unbelievably attractive. Like almost half of the population but hey, you’re just a girl.

Leah kissed you at your second date. She asks you at the fourth to be her girlfriend and introduce you to her family after six months of dating. Of course, they already have known about you. And you knew them thanks to the Arsenal VIP room. But it was the first official diner with the Williamson and relatives.

You are not living together for now, but you find yourself a lot at each other’s house. You love being at Leah’s, everything smells like her. But she loves being at your house too. At Christmas, Leah gave you the keys of her house and you gave her the keys of your flat.

You love her, a lot. And you know that she loves you back, even if those precious words were never pronounced to each other. At least you both know that you care for each other. A lot.

That doesn’t mean you never fight, to be honest. Not later than yesterday, you had a really stupid argument about something really stupid. But with Leah’s stress about football and her comeback and your proper tiredness thanks to your job, it was sometimes happening. Some means words were exchanged, and Leah ended up leaving your flat, slamming your door.

Stubbornly, you decided not to write to her. In your opinion, she was wrong, and it was even more wrong to leave the way she did. You were hurt a little bit too, by the argument and after by the fact that Leah didn’t call you or at least send you a message. Not the same night, not the day after.

Almost two days later, you still didn’t have talk to each other. You ask casually to Lotte how Leah is doing when you have her on the phone. But your cousin answers that she was Switzerland in your love life and that she didn’t want to be involved in anything. Unless it’s for marriage or children. So, basically, you don’t know how Leah is today.

You saw the video and the pictures posted by Arsenal’s admin on Instagram, but that’s all. You choose not to go to the game, not sure that Leah wants you here. It’s an important game though, so you decide to watch it on TV. Leah’s starting and it’s strange to see your girlfriend’s face on your TV screen. She’s focused, her glare well fixed on her face. Her blue eyes are piercing her opponents.

But that doesn’t help Arsenal to win today. It wasn’t a big loss, but it was a loss anyway. Leah seems particularly sad, and you feel your heart cracks. So, you decided to jump in a jean, in your car and to go to Arsenal’s stadium. Leah gave you a pass to access to the parking lot, so you just use it to get in it.

You know that Leah went to the game with Beth, so you’re not surprised not to see her car. But, when you get out from yours, you can’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable. What if Leah doesn’t want you here? Maybe your idea wasn’t as good as you thought at first. You almost decided to leave when Leah passes the door.

She’s looking at the ground, not listening to Beth or Laia Codina who are walking with her. The other blond spots you first and elbows Leah who looks at her. Beth then points in your direction and when Leah spots you too, she seems as surprised as she is relieved.

You don’t move, only waving shyly at her. She gives you a little smile in return, turning into Beth to says her something. You don’t know what it is, but Beth rolls her eyes and push Leah in her direction with her hand before mimic a kick in the ass.

“Hello” you say softly when Leah is next to you.

“Hi” breaths Leah.

You reach out to take her bag, putting it on the back seat of your car. Then you went to opens Leah’s door, but you cross her eyes, and she seems so upset that you can’t do nothing against that. So, you reach out to her again, so that she can grasp it this time. And, when Leah almost jumps on your hand, you take her delicately against you. She hugs you back, putting her face in your neck almost immediately.

“You played good” you whisper after some seconds.

“You weren’t here to watch” Leah objects, her face still in your neck.

“I watched you on TV.”

At your explanation, Leah pushes herself even more against you and you tighten your arms against her. No one like to lose obviously, but you’ve never seen someone with such an ability to take all the blame on themselves. You know that tomorrow, Leah would pass half of her day watching the game, analyzing her mistakes and noting them in her notebook. You hate that damn notebook.

“You still watched me?”

You can’t help but smile, hearing how small your girlfriend is when asks you that question. Leah Williamson, captain of England and Euro champion looks like a little girl right now. No one ever saw this part of Leah, or her mother only maybe. But you do.

“Of course.”

You could have tease her and answering that you wanted to watch Katie, but it wasn’t really the good timing. Leah takes a deep breath and release you, looking attentively at your face before trying another smile. You smile back and stroke her hair before nodding at your car.

“Can I take you home?”

“I’d love to.”

You don’t really talk during the journey to your house, but Leah captures your hand in hers almost immediately. She strokes your fingers and plays with your ring all along, looking out by the window. You let her, knowing with time that she needs some quiet sometimes to figuring things out.

When you get out of your car, you take Leah’s bag with one hand, your girlfriend’s hand with the other and go to the ascensor. In it, you can smell Leah’s shampoo and that’s make you smile. The blonde surprise your smile in the mirror of the ascensor and you just shrug. She doesn’t have the time to question you though, the doors opening just after.

“Do you want to order pizzas? Or I can go to Tesco to take you a ham sandwich if you prefer?”

“Nah, pizza is good Babe. Don’t worry”

You let Leah orders your diner, using this time to wash her dirty laundry before heading back to the living room. Leah had made herself comfortable, lying on your couch. But she stands when she spots you, making you frown.

“We need to talk. About our fight.”

You feel your face fall, hopping to never discuss your fight again. You hate fighting with Leah, and you hate the way you feel after. You were hopping that you can have like a silence contract to forget it. Plus, the We need to talk sentence is never really good. But Leah seems to understand really fast what’s happening in your head, because she takes your hand when she sits down on the couch again, taking you with her. You are almost sitting on her lap when she talks again.

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I don’t even remember why the fight start, but I shouldn’t have left like that. It was childish and I’m really sorry. Are you still angry with me?”

You shook your head negatively, relieved to learn that Leah doesn’t want to break up or something like that.

“No, I’m not. To be honest, the same night I was more sad to sleep without you than angry.”

“Why didn’t write me?” Leah asks with curiosity.

“I wasn’t sure you’d answer me and I was afraid I’d be even sadder.”

Leah sighs softly, stroking your back. Her eyes are looking at you with intensity and you bite unconsciously your lip.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Leah asks you soon after.

You nod, taking advantage of your position to cuddle against her. Leah puts her chin on top of your head, and you can hear her heart when she talks again.

“I was sad too. I was hopping you will come to the game but when I didn’t see you, I realize how much I fucked up. And after the game, all I was thinking is that I will have to deal with the loss all alone. Almost everyone was going home to their partner and mine was probably angry at me. I just wanted to go home and hide under the cover. When I saw you in the parking lot, I was thinking of the best way to apologize and get you back. I knew it was my fault, but it didn’t ease the sadness of it, it was even worse I think.”

“Don’t say that” you mumble “It was my fault too. We were both arguing.”

Leah hums and you look up at her before kissing her cheek. It was nice to know how much your presence means to Leah whether it’s during the games or at home. You love being here for her obviously.

“But we’re good now, right?”

Leah smiles, with her real smile and you feel your heart fluttered.

“We’re good, my girl.”

Then you kiss her for the first time since the fight and you get lost in your embrace. The kiss is sweet, tender and you feel like floating somewhere above the ground. Maybe your exchange will change in something more passionate if your pizzas weren’t already here.

You eat them in front of the TV, but still cuddling against each other. Leah finishes her pizza first and takes you more against her soon after. She kisses your cheek several times, not really interested in the movie she picks before. When you feel teeth against the skin of your neck, you decide to forget your meal to roll on your girlfriend.

Leah smirks, happy to have all your attention and catch your lips in an intense kiss. You whimper, surprise by the intensity of it but didn’t waist time to answer it.

“Thanks for coming for me tonight.”

Leah whispers it way later, when you were under the cover of your bed, almost asleep. The pizzas were eaten, you forgot the movie to better activities and after that you took a hot bath.

 Leah’s body is warm against yours and you hum at first for only answer.

“My pleasure” you mumble, half-hiding your face in her.

You yawn and Leah start scratching your neck, just like she knows you like. You only need thirty seconds to fall asleep after that. Leah needs a little more time, but she watches you sleep to pass time. She knows she’s lucky to have you and she swears to herself not to leave you angry anymore.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #leah williamson #woso one shot #leah williamson x you #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader

[pin-k-ink]

veil // fushiguro megumi

tw ⇢ friends to lovers, mutual pining, sexual tension, insomnia, codependency(?), teasing, nipple play, body worship, clit play, unprotected sex, marking, making out, mentions of violence and injuries

wc ⇢ 7.4k

Megumi sighed heavily as he stared up at the ceiling of his dorm room. As a third-year jujutsu sorcerer, he had seen more traumatizing events than most people could even fathom. The visions played on an endless loop in his mind - the grotesque curses, the brutal battles, the lives lost right before his eyes.

It made true rest nearly impossible to come by. Night after night, insomnia wrapped its icy tendrils around Megumi, holding him hostage to the waking world no matter how utterly exhausted he felt. His body craved the sweet release of slumber, but his mind stubbornly refused to quiet.

The only person who seemed to provide any semblance of peace, any eye in the storm of Megumi's turmoil, was you. You were a fellow classmate and a healer, frequently patching up Megumi and the others when they returned from missions bloodied and weary. While you didn't often join them on the battlefield directly, you had been by Megumi's side through it all for the longest time.

There was something about your calming presence, your unwavering care and support, that helped soothe the jagged edges of Megumi's psyche in a way nothing else could. He felt safe when you were around, like he could fractionally loosen the iron grip of hyper-vigilance that kept him tethered to consciousness.

It happened by accident at first, the realization that your company helped calm the storm in his mind enough to actually fall asleep. The two of you had been studying late one night, poring over ancient texts and trading observations in hushed tones. Megumi couldn't even recall when he had started nodding off, utterly unaware that he was drifting until his head came to rest against your shoulder.

The gentle warmth radiating from you and the faint floral scent of your hair had proven too soothing a lullaby. Megumi jerked awake with a panicked start sometime later, disoriented by the unexpected lapse in consciousness. But as his eyes landed on your peaceful, resting form beside him, he couldn't recall the last time his mind had been so blissfully quiet.

From that point on, a new unspoken routine slowly took root between you. With the dark circles deepening beneath Megumi's eyes, you began to pick up on his struggles to find any respite. So you simply...made yourself available to him, leaving the door to your room cracked in open invitation.

At first, Megumi felt paralyzed by indecision and unspoken hesitancies. But the bone-deep weariness eventually overwhelmed his reservations. He found himself gravitating to your door sometime after midnight, footsteps soundless in the corridor as he slipped inside without preamble.

You never acknowledged his presence beyond a slight smile and shifting to make room for him on the small bed. Megumi would settle in behind you, molding his body to fit the slender curves of yours as you tugged the covers up over both of you. Inhaling the comforting amalgam of your scents, he would finally feel the vise grip of anxiety start to loosen its chokehold as you laced your fingers through his.

Within minutes, the cadence of your breathing descended into deep, even respiration - an anchor amidst the turbulence of Megumi's mind. He focused intently on matching that peaceful rhythm until the world gradually receded and slumber claimed him once more in its warm embrace.

The arrangement continued nightly, becoming as natural as breathing. You never pried or demanded anything from Megumi other than to allow you to provide this small shelter of serenity. And he took unconscionable solace in your unassuming care and discretion, even as it stoked an undercurrent of deeper longing that went unspoken.

Megumi's crush on you was a secret he guarded with the same intensity and vigilance as he did curses on the battlefield. He told himself it was merely an extension of the profound gratitude he felt for how you grounded him, kept him anchored to reality when his psyche threatened to drift into darker depths. But his heart knew better.

With each passing night Megumi spent wrapped in the cocoon of your arms, his feelings for you blossomed into something deeper and more complex than simple appreciation. He found himself studying you in quiet moments - the rhythmic fluttering of your eyelashes as you slept, the gentle swell of your breasts rising and falling, the wispy tendrils of hair escaping their bindings to frame your face.

In those hushed interludes where the rest of the world seemed to fade into insignificance, Megumi drank in every nuanced detail as if committing you to eternal memory. The way your brow would occasionally furrow while dreaming, or how your fingertips would twitch restlessly against his skin in an unconscious caress that set his pulse fluttering.

He memorized the soft little noises you made as you drifted through the cycles of slumber - the nearly inaudible hums and murmurs that rumbled like satin against his jawline when you instinctively nuzzled closer. Each one catalyzed an answering riptide through Megumi's consciousness, an electric thrum of awareness and thinly-veiled yearning that he didn't dare shed light upon.

Because to truly acknowledge the depths of his burgeoning affections would be to open a door to possibilities and vulnerabilities that terrified him in equal measure. What if you didn't feel the same? What if the tranquil sanctuary you'd created together shattered under the weight of his selfishness? The mere prospect of shattering this fragile equilibrium became increasingly more harrowing than any curse Megumi could envision.

So he remained a silent supplicant, content - or so he tried to convince himself - to bask in your radiance from a respectful distance while allowing the steady cadence of your existence to lull his demons. He told himself the secret thrill igniting low in his belly whenever your bodies instinctively intertwined was simply gratitude given corporeal form. That the occasional ghost of your breathfanning across his lips didn't catalyze endless agonizing fantasies about capturing that elusive exhalation with his own mouth in a scorching tandem.

Megumi became adept at compartmentalizing those unbidden yearnings, shunting them into airtight chambers to be unspooled and examinedin the solitary, sleepless hours before you rejoined him each evening. With clinical detachment, he would sketch out every hypothetical nuance should he actually carry through on giving physical form to his deepest cravings.

The way your eyes might widen in surprise before fluttering closed in acquiescence as his mouth claimed yours with lingering insistence. How it would feel to map every sloped and bowed plane of your soft curves, adoringly tracing the constellations of silvered scars and incandescent birthmarks that comprised the physical galaxies of your existence.

He imagined your incredulity giving way to the same yearning need which strained against his composure with each passing night spent laced together in willful obliviousness.The intimate echoes of pleasure and wonder he would eagerly consecrate upon your body with his lips, tongue, teeth—

And just as the delirious spiral of ideation attained true escape velocity from the bounds of propriety, Megumi would forcibly abort the mental exercise. He fashioned those fleeting indulgences into a singular razor's edge to test his willpower and resolve against - proof that he could still discern the boundaries of what was permissible to feel for someone who had become such an indispensible part of his life.

Because the truth was, the fear of irreparably damaging the precious dynamic you had both cultivated outweighed any ephemeral cravings borne from his hormones or sublimated psyche. Having you close, feeling the tranquil balm of your very presence, was powerful enough medicine that Megumi would happily sacrifice his own needs to maintain it indefinitely.

At least, that was what he continuously reassured himself of in those shadowed, liminal hours where one's defenses deteriorated and brutal honesty took on corporeal form.

The fear of your potential rejection, or worse - revulsion and withdrawal - haunted Megumi like a curse given sentient breath. He refused to be the one to risk upending the profound unspoken covenant you had both entered into by broaching those perilous waters of intimacy uninvited.

He would happily consign himself to being your eternal shadow self if that's what it took to keep experiencing those nightly respites where the world became reduced to the twin rhythms of your conjoined breathing. To exist in that warm, blissful refuge beyond expectation or want of anything further.

Until, eventually, the sinuous pull of temptation became too seductive to ignore any longer. Until the idea of not indulging those carnal curiosities burned hotter than any consequences they risked catalyzing. Until the all-consuming gravity between you both attained criticality and Megumi could no longer resist the possibility of you both rupturing into brilliant coalescence...

The tension built slowly, anonymously, over the countless nights you and Megumi continued your ritualistic communion. What had started as a simple quest for respite gradually deepened into something more primal, more erotically charged as the weeks and months slipped by in your endless cycle of slumber and wakefulness.

Perhaps it was the sheer physicality of your sleeping forms twining together in such unguarded vulnerability that catalyzed the undercurrent of awareness. The way Megumi's heightened senses seemed to blaze with renewed intensity whenever he inhaled the warm, intoxicating amalgam of your essences mingled on the sheets. How your fingers would occasionally trail idle, unconscious patterns over the taut contours of his abdomen, trailing dangerously close to where he needed you most.

Or maybe it stemmed from the unprecedented intimacy of witnessing one another at your most unguarded and rumpled - hair mussed and defenses lowered in that indeterminate state between dreaming and wakefulness. The thin veneers of propriety sloughed away until you existed as little more than twin points of radiant energy thrumming in sympathetic resonance.

Megumi couldn't pinpoint the precise genesis of when he started permitting his subconscious to indulge in more sensually-charged reveries while tucked against your pliant form. All he knew was the gradual awakening of a profound, smoldering need that made each successive separation from your warmth more achingly profound.

It started small at first - like catching himself studying the gentle swell of your cleavage rising incrementally with each inhale a beat too long. Or feeling a forbidden frisson of arousal whenever your backside would cant backwards into the cradle of his hips as you instinctively cuddled closer while sleeping.

Megumi found his palms growing slickened with unconscious desire at those titillating moments of contact, fingers twitching with the impulsive need to boldly map the elegant geography of your curves rather than simply appreciate them from a chaste distance. To consummate those indefinable cravings with searing, profane action before the last vestiges of his restraint withered away entirely.

He fantasized about robbing you of that peaceful, slumbering purity - envisioning scenarios where he lost control over that banked reservoir of lust and simply took you in a single, consumptive rush. His calloused palms cupping the weight of your breasts as he nuzzled open-mouthed against the graceful column of your throat, chasing each shivering inhale with lips and tongue until you succumbed to awakening in a spiral of bewildered pleasure.

Or picturing your lithe form arching bowstring-taut against his awakened bulk as he worked methodical paths down the tempting vee between your breasts, teeth grazing hardened nipples through thin cotton until you writhed feverishly against him. Megumi would stifle your incredulous whimpers and plaintive cries into the blackened hollows of his palms, swallowing each punched-out exhalation as he rutted his painfully stiffened cock against your inner thigh in mute supplication.

He knew every ridge, every striation of musculature comprising his own physique in exhaustive detail after years of rigorous training. Yet the prospect of intimately mapping those same minutiae across your untasted terrains literally stole his breath at times. To splay his palm over your lower abdomen and simply feel those powerful, feminine planes flutter beneath his touch as Megumi brought you to the brink...

But just as those delirious reveries risked spiraling out into openly obscene territory, Megumi would reign them in through sheer force of will. Harsh, panting breaths rapidly cooling the molten burn of lust simmering in his veins as he tamped it back into submission. He could no more give literal expression to those basest impulses than he could forfeit the solace your presence provided.

Anything beyond the fulcrum point of temptation represented a line which, once crossed, could never be uncrossed. You'd proven time and again the depth of loyalty and unconditional care comprising your bond. But that depth of trust and acceptance could so easily be severed should Megumi press his desires too insistently.

So he continued subsisting on hazy intimations and fevered imaginings while keeping his more prurient instincts solidly leashed. Savoring the sensuality of each whisper-light caress and breath-mingled proximity while outwardly maintaining his carefully modulated impassiveness. Permitting himself to indulge in those lascivious mental sojourns until the edge of release loomed...before sublimating everything back into restraint with a harsh indrawn breath.

The rigid alternating current between unspoken need and staunch self-denial formed the pulsing heart of the ritual you shared nightly. You remained the serene eye holding the tempests of Megumi's warring compulsions at carbonized bay. And he...he simply basked in the tempering balm of your presence while the embers of want smoldered in secret - flaring incandescently before being ruthlessly banked once more.

An intricate dance of torment and grace, spiraling indefinitely around one another while the thermonuclear potential for something cataclysmic swelled with each passing cycle. Until the day that escalating tension breached the limits of its containment and detonated in a searing, irrevocable rush.

The nightly ritual of entwining yourselves together became more intricate with each passing week. What had started as simple proximity gradually deepened into a choreographed embrace, limbs instinctively mirroring familiar handholds and points of seamless contact.

Megumi found himself unconsciously cataloging and savoring each minute variation, eagerly committing the details to memory like a lifeline anchoring him against the relentless tides of his insomnia. How you would slightly angle your body onto your side to accommodate the hard planes of his chest molding against your back. The specific cant of your hips that allowed his arm to drape possessively over your waist while still permitting unimpeded breathing.

Each successive joining attained an elevated courtship of calibration that fostered unprecedented intimacy. Like two galaxies engaged in an inexorable drift towards eventual coalescence, your sleeping existence warped and bent in perpetual accommodation of the other.

Some nights the restless thoughts careening through Megumi's psyche demanded an even more grounding proximity. Those were the occasions where he found himself cautiously resting his head atop the slender practicality of your sternum, jugular notched against the crown of his brow. Here, tucked into the cradle of your neck, he could literally feel the solidity of your pulse thrumming through his awareness - a primeval mantra of vitality wresting equilibrium from his frenzied mind.

On those nights, you always seemed to sense Megumi's deeper unrest without any prompting or vocal admission required. You would instinctively burrow your fingers into the thicket of his tousled hair, blunted nails scoring heated trails across his scalp in soothing, repetitive strokes that cauterized the hairline fractures in his self-restraint.

Megumi remembers with vivid intensity the first time you combed your touch through his dishevelment that way - the liquid shock of sensation cauterizing every other intrusive external stimulus until only the molten rapture of your caress resonated. He fought not to stiffen with startled arousal, reminded himself to regulate each breath into an even, practiced cadence as your fingertips continued kneading shivery nirvana against his sensitized cranium.

From that point on, the act became like an invocation murmured between you in a language far older than spoken tongues. You cradled him to your heart's steady timekeeping, lulled his mind's frantic metronome into matching harmony through the steadying conduits of your tenderness. And Megumi absorbed the ritual like one of the world's most profound sacraments - folding himself into the sensual harbinger of your care until the disquieting echoes whittling away at his sanity peeled back into irrelevance.

Of course, the intoxicating pleasure of those protracted instances of physical intimacy was not without its tolls as well. Megumi spent countless bouts wrestling his painfully hardened cock back into submission, terrified you would somehow notice the evidence of his lascivious response to your ministrations. He fantasized about angling his hips in pointed invitation, grinding the formidable ridge of his desire against the plush give of your ass until the tantalizing friction robbed all capacity for forethought.

But somehow - through sheer force of will and practice - he always steadied himself before breaching that line of propriety entirely. Allowed the exquisitely tortuous yearning to crest and plateau before carefully redirecting the bonfire of his lust into more neutral, innocuous channels once again. Still, the agonized throbbing of his cock during those lapses in control served yet another agonizing reminder of how precarious his restraint remained where you were involved.

Then there were other nights where the metaphysical gravity between you intensified to a nigh-insupportable degree. Occasions where the low ebb of tension shading toward outright erotic charge became too much to simply bear in polite, silent observation. Megumi would find you seeking solace in the solid bracket of his arms wound around your waist from behind instead - your smaller form bracketed into his sculpted embrace with your back sealed flush to his chest.

Here, intimacy rankled in subcutaneous tactilities and the somatic topographies of skin all but extinguishing its own illumination. The physicality of your closeness overwhelming every dulled sense until each shallow inhalation fluttered through Megumi with gut-punched intensity. On these smoldering occasions, he could literally feel the downy caress of your exhales pebbling the bare skin of his forearms, teased the rarefied definition of every flexed musculature sheath bracketing your form.

He frequently surrendered to the delirium of nuzzling into the fragrant tumult of your hair during those times, drugging himself further on the precious methedrine of your proximity. Inhaled in ragged drafts the musky underlays of your exertions that day mingling in sublimated ritual with the powdered-silk bouquets of soap and shampoo until the composite scent became more intoxicant than oxygen itself.

Unconsciously, reflexively, his touch would grow more covetous - fingertips trailing intricate emblems against the exposed expanses of your abdomen in strange forgotten glyphics. Heated brands of delirious possession emblazoned like scripture against the divine of your body's topography as silent offering. Molten lust tamped down to smolder through ingrained ritual until only the indelible physicality of shared consecration remained between your inosculating forms.

In those fevered raptures of near-dissolution, Megumi orbited nearer to capitulating before the magnetizing gravities arrayed against what little restraint remained binding the sanctities of your bond together. It became increasingly harder to weigh the cosmic indifference of his need against the fearsome recompense that awaited any expression more literal than molten dreams and carnal hallucinations left unenacted.

You never called overt attention to the escalating delirium, never gave voice or acknowledgment to the unraveling stair-step of intimacies unfolding between you with each passing union. You simply absorbed the degrees of erotic intensification catalyzing in his embrace with the same serene grace and mindful presence that had allowed the ritual to precipitate in the first place.

An ouroboric trine of Megumi giving in to the pull of temptation by slow increments, only to reign himself in before the full dissolution of your communion - with you radiating patient understanding all the while.

Until the fateful night when the fragile membranes separating fantasy from reality ruptured entirely under the relentless onslaught of those gravitational accelerations. And neither one of you could profess any clarity on who crossed the event horizon first to send your orbits careening into the devastatingly inevitable.

The harmonic symmetry of your nightly ritual began taking on newer, increasingly charged dimensions as the weeks slipped past. Megumi struggled to pinpoint when precisely the lines between chaste intimacy and burgeoning eroticism had started to blur, but he found himself gravitating towards more indulgent variations of your standard embrace.

Certain nights, when the frayed edges of his self-restraint rayoned to diaphanous threads, Megumi allowed himself to settle against you in a new configuration entirely. Rather than wedging his head into the immaculate cradle of your neck and shoulder, he would burrow deeper - descending until the fevered crown of his brow came to rest in the plush valley between the gentle swell of your breasts.

Here, cradled against the supreme sacristy of your body's undulating topography, Megumi could absorb the vital thrum of your heartbeat through the heated stratum of your skin. The rhythm became an intravenous infusion mainlined straight into his faltering sanities, syncing the frantic piston-stokes of his mindfire back towards equilibrium.

On those nights, the two of you seemed to meld into seamless isotropy, bodies twining as one through elemental planes of gravity's maddening allure. Megumi's arms would wind inescapably around your waist, fingers instinctively spanning the narrow concavities between ridges of musculature before rooting against the flared terrain of your hip bones. Anchors thrumming mute benediction upon quivering expanses of flesh so achingly welcoming he thought he might disintegrate into the static charge between you.

There, suspended in what felt like a continuous drift across the eventuality of an intergalactic collision, Megumi allowed himself to telescope further into those fraught reveries silhouetting your sublimated desires. Imagination indulging the lascivious curiosities of devoting open-mouthed penance to those beckoning curves rising and falling in incandescent offering before his gaze. To splay prodigious fingers across the sloped flanks and reverently pepper the soft, vulnerable underswell with the calibrated intensity of his attentions until you arched in supplication to an even more consumptive benediction.

The decision to stay late one evening, when a badly injured student arrived on the cusp of hemorrhaging out, nearly unraveled Megumi's already tenuous grasp on reality.

You hadn't even spared him a backwards glance as you rushed to meet the emergency, instantly sublimating into a seamless triage protocol borne from years of battle-contested experience. Though more accustomed to demons as your primaries, bodies remained bodies - frail geysers of anatomy ruptured by violence no matter the catalyst.

Megumi drifted into the treatment bay behind you sightlessly, an errant moon trailing in your brilliance's wake. His presence registering only as an afterthought, a peripheral white-noise of observation as you went about prepping tools and sterilizing surfaces with economical grace. Only when you paused in mercurial deferential to bark clipped instructions did your gazes intersect momentarily - sending fresh riptides of heated consternation slaloming through his marrow.

He felt unmoored by your crisp, no-nonsense decorum in such surroundings. This whetted, highly-attuned aspect of your persona catching him off-guard in a way that transmuted the erotic undertones scaffolding your nightly intimacies into something more visceral and inflammatory.

So when you didn't dismiss him outright after the fact, Megumi remained transfixed on the periphery of the infirmary. A silent supplicant greedily trailing every deft juncture of your ministrations as you worked to isolate, debride, then definitively seal each sucking anatomical rupture. The sight catalyzed impressions of you peeling back layers like veiny petals, exposing rich carnal terrains of divine primality to his heated, overeager gaze.

At some point, Megumi had drifted closer until he stood a looming sentry presence directly behind you. Unwittingly or not, he radiated an indelible body heat that wreathed your shoulders in its feverish exhalations while you steadily worked. Yet if his covetous proximity registered any disquiet or distraction, you betrayed no evidence of such - your practitioner's aplomb never flagging even as Megumi boldly encroached upon your sphere of regard.

When at last the worst trauma had been staunched and dressed in immaculate, woven geometry, you let out a lengthy, tremulous exhalation that unleashed its own micro-shock wave of spent tension. Megumi was close enough that the resonant echoes of your breath feathered against his parted lips, igniting fresh smouldering in the banked, affective synapses sheathing his corporeal awareness.

Before higher reasoning or conscious thought could intervene, Megumi's hands had already settled in bold supplication upon the sweeping inclines of your hips. His thumbs instinctively spanned the concave valleys radiating from your sacrum, kneading small hieroglyphs of worship against the thin muslin barriers draping your skin as you swayed minutely back against his anchoring solidity.

Under the recycled ambience of the treatment wing, you slowly craned your head until the elegant willow-column of your throat bisected the charged ley lines separating your bodies. Megumi's gaze became immediately transfixed by the graceful relief of your jugular pulsing beneath tanned satin expanses - so deliciously bare and vulnerable that the yearning to mouth heated benediction against its thrumming cadence transmuted into pure visceral static shorting through his nervous relays.

When at last the vertigo of your shared proximity located a single tremulous point of intersection, your eyes blazed forth from beneath heavy-lidded admissions of naked need. In them, Megumi witnessed perfect reflections of his own answered compulsions, blurring thermal distortions of past reservations into gauzy irrelevance, catalyzing one final abeyance before conjoined surrender -

The intimacy between you and Megumi escalated rapidly in the nights that followed. What had started as simply holding each other for comfort was quickly evolving into something more charged with unspoken desire.

One night, Megumi clung to you desperately, the weight of the day's stresses bearing down on him. He pulled your body flush against his, hands roaming over every curve as if mapping out sacred territory. You could sense the franticness thrumming through him and tried to provide soothing caresses in response.

But your gentle touches seemed to inflame Megumi's need even further. He looked at you with an intense, hungry gaze, as if seeing you for the first time. When you met his stare with calm acceptance, any restraint still holding him back collapsed entirely.

In a sudden flurry of movement, Megumi rolled until his weight was pressed against you. He wedged his hips between your parted thighs as you arched up instinctively. Without hesitation, Megumi tugged aside your top and latched his mouth over your exposed nipple.

The feeling of his lips on your skin was electric. Megumi licked and sucked feverishly, savoring your softness and taste like a man starved. You cried out at the overwhelming sensations, back bowing even as your fingers threaded desperately through his hair to hold him close.

It was as if a dam had burst within Megumi after holding back for so long. He lavished open-mouthed devotion across every inch of newly uncovered skin. Your gasps and whimpers only spurred him onwards in worshipping your body.

You matched his ardor, nails raking down his back as you pulled him impossibly closer. The two of you moved with frantic need, exchanging gasps and whispered endearments. Rational thought ceased to exist, overwhelmed by the roaring hunger to finally culminate the intimacy that had been building relentlessly.

Every boundary, every tantalizing hint of temptation leading up to this moment disintegrated under the searing reality. You and Megumi were left teetering on the brink of something profound and life-altering. To cross that line was to tumble into the abyss together, scorched by the annihilating ecstasy of at last giving in completely to your deepest desires.

In the aftermath of that pivotal encounter, the dynamic between you and Megumi was irrevocably altered. What had once been a chaste, if intimate routine of shared comfort, was now electrified by the undercurrent of bared desire.

Each night when Megumi slipped into your room, the air felt thick with heated tension and unspoken hunger. You would pull him into your arms as always, molding your bodies together in that sacred muscle-memory embrace. But now, there was always that loaded pause where you both hung suspended - breath bated, skin hyper-aware as you awaited the first catalyzing spark.

Sometimes it was the slightest accidental brush of Megumi's fingertips skimming along the sensitive undersides of your arms that ignited the conflagration. Other nights, it would be you unconsciously arching into the solid wall of his chest, beckoning hips angling in mute provocation. But inevitably, one simple point of friction would unlatch the fragile tether still constraining you both.

And then Megumi would descend upon you with desperation befitting a man dying of thirst. His mouth would latch over your nipple with a heated suction that robbed the air from your lungs in a sharp gasp. Teeth grazed the pebbled peak with exquisite delicacy even as his tongue laved broad, revering strokes across the tender areola.

You trembled helplessly under the lavish attention, back arching on instinct as waves of molten pleasure radiated outwards from that scorching nexus. Megumi seemed utterly transfixed, working your breast with an almost spiritual devotion - alternating between feather-light flicks and deep, hungry pulls that threatened to unravel you entirely.

Each desperate whimper or broken moan only spurred him on further. His free hand would knead and tug at your other breast, nimble fingers rolling and plucking at the stiff peak until you squirmed deliriously. The rough pads of his palm abraded your silk-soft skin with delicious friction in stark contrast to the velvet heat of his mouth's reverence.

Megumi chased every quivering rise and fall of your chest, lavishing open-mouthed worship across the sloped swells until your every exhale emerged as a ragged, punched-out keen. He was inexorable in his devotion - laving, sucking, even nipping at your puckered areola until that singular point of contact became the entire axis of your existence.

You quickly grew addicted to the exquisite agonies of having him worship your body so thoroughly. The harsh rasp of Megumi's breathing overwhelming your senses as he discarded any remaining barriers between you. The searing brand of his palms mapping every plane and curve as if frantically committing you to permanent memory through tactile consecration alone.

On those nights, your pussy throbbed with relentless emptiness, weeping silent pleas against Megumi's corded abdomen as he ground his weight into you. You lost entire pressures of coherency, retreating into the madness of fingernails scoring pleasured firesongs down his flexing musculature as lightning dances of sensation arced between nerve clusters.

But no matter how deliriously you offered yourself in the shuddering apotheosis of his undoing, Megumi would inevitably regain control before claiming that final, most profound capitulation. He seemed to carry you both to the very brink of annihilating rapture before caging his own explosive impulses once more.

Only once your breasts glistened with the obscene sheen of his lingering efforts would Megumi eventually show mercy. Even then, he stubbornly resisted pulling away entirely, instead lavishing languid, consoling laps of his tongue against your nipple whenever the stimulation verged into overwhelming intensity anew. Only then would he descend, pressing his length against your side while burying his face into the damp, perfumed haven at your breast.

Megumi's grip would anchor around you with crushing finality while he fought to regain his tenuous grasp on composure once more. You could feel his cock throbbing through the layers separating you, sense the molten restraint burning through him as he trembled on the very precipice of violent culmination.

But he held himself back from that plunge with grim determination. And you paradoxically admired and ached for him in equal measure - as if some essential core of Megumi's being would utterly unravel should he ever relinquish those final threads of control entirely.

So you gathered what tattered strands of sensibility remained, gentling him through the shuddering aftershocks with languid caresses until his breathing evened out once more. Until the rigid planes of muscle gradually unwound into the boneless repose of slumber as Megumi slipped into the blessed refuge of unconsciousness, face nestled against your chest and cocooned in your warmth just as before.

Only this time, the hollows carved from nightly denial scored matching valences across both your souls in the aftermath. Reminders of how perilously, combustibly close you had come to breaching that ultimate horizon together before retreating once more. Stoking that banked wildfire anew with each passing cycle of slumber and wakefulness to feed its insatiable, all-consuming hunger.

The night draped the dormitory in hushed stillness, but sleep remained an elusive specter for Megumi. He tossed and turned, sheets tangling around his restless form as thoughts whirled incessantly. No matter how he tried to calm his racing mind, an inexorable restlessness took root.

Until finally, he could no longer ignore the magnetic pull drawing him from his solitary bed. Muscles coiled taut, Megumi rose and padded down the hall like a prowling panther. Each silent stride carried him inexorably closer to the one presence that could dull his frayed edges into blissful quiescence.

He didn't pause outside your door, didn't announce his arrival. Merely slipped into your room like a wraith, instincts guiding him through the familiar motions. You were already there in the rumpled bed, turned towards the door in seeming expectation of his arrival.

Megumi's breath stalled in his throat at the sight of you bathed in the moon's caress. He drank in the tousled spill of your hair, the perfect bow of your lips slightly parted in unconscious invitation. The naked vulnerability in your expression as you waited for him to join you lanced straight through to Megumi's guarded core.

He crossed the room in a few economical strides, body angling towards yours like branches entreating the sun's warmth. You didn't startle when the mattress dipped to accept his weight, simply made space amid the rumpled bedding for him to settle against you.

Your backs melded together in the practised ritual, his arm curved possessively around your waist as if to anchor himself. To tether his unquiet spirit to the only point of equilibrium.

Yet this time, Megumi's control stretched thinner than gossamer. He could no more ignore the fevered thrum of your pulses, the tantalizing warmth of your body cradled against his own. Scalding tendrils of yearning unfurled through his entrails as your familiar scent - crisp citrus and earthen musk - surrounded him in its intoxicating haze.

Megumi's fingers mapped the dip of your waist in a scorching caress, his calloused pads tracing the silken terrain as if committing it to memory. A tremor lanced through you at the molten intensity of his touch, your back arching infinitesimally into his solid frame.

He felt the nearly imperceptible motion like a lightning strike, every nerve ending suddenly hyper-aware of your proximity. Of the whisper-soft sounds of your breathing, the gentle cadence thrumming against his own ribs. The fragrant warmth of your hair fanning across the pillowcase, beckoning him closer into its silken snare.

Reason hazed into distant white noise, subsumed by the primal riptide pulling them into deeper, uncharted waters. Megumi's arm contracted around your waist with inevitable gravity, eliminating what little space remained between your entangled forms. His caged exhale gusted hotly against the nape of your neck, stirring the fine baby hairs there.

You tensed for a charged beat, attuned to the smoldering simmer of intent that Megumi could no longer leash. Then, almost imperceptibly, you melted back into the unyielding plains of his chest in wordless capitulation. An invitation and challenge housed in that simple motion.

He groaned out a ragged exhale, the last tattered vestiges of restraint unraveling. Megumi's palm cradled the juncture of your shoulder, urging you to roll onto your back as he followed like the inexorable path of smoke towards an inferno. Until his searing gaze bored into your own, igniting answering embers that danced across your half-parted lips.

In that electrifying stillness, the world compressed to a single point of gravity enclosed between your bodies. Then Megumi's mouth claimed yours with years of banked, seething hunger finally breaking free in a firestorm of fevered intensity...

Megumi's mouth slanted hungrily over yours, initial restraint giving way to unbridled fervor. Years of simmering tension, of aborted glances and near misses, combusted in that heated collision. His calloused palm cradled the arch of your nape as your fingers fisted in the fabric of his sleep shirt, anchoring him firmly against you.

You exchanged scorching kisses with ardent enthusiasm, bodies straining ever closer until not even a whisper of space remained between them. Your curves melded seamlessly with the unyielding planes of Megumi's torso, seeking that blissful union you'd both sublimated for too long.

When the primal need for oxygen finally overwhelmed the compulsive joining of your mouths, you broke apart with a ragged inhalation. Shared breaths mingled in the scant space, gazes locked in an electrifying exchange of unguarded yearning. Then Megumi dipped his head again, trailing a molten path of kisses along the swell of your jaw and throat.

A tremulous sigh tumbled from your parted lips as you instinctively arched into his smoldering caresses. You could feel the delicious rake of his teeth grazing your pulse point before he soothed it with an openmouthed kiss that seared like a brand. Your fingers combed through the silken strands at his nape, nails scraping lightly to elicit a full-bodied shudder against you.

Rational thought frayed and disintegrated like so much smoke into this blissful oblivion of tangled limbs and questing hands. There was only the unhurried rediscovery of sacred territories and the intoxicating thrum of Megumi's ardor reverberating through your bones.

You luxuriated in the exquisite agony of his mouth worshipping your bare skin. His lips and tongue and teeth traversed the graceful curve of your throat, leaving behind a searing map of claim. Then they skimmed across the slope of your collarbones, his breath a hot gust against your fevered flesh.

He pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat before descending. Megumi trailed a blistering path along the valley between your breasts, savoring every twitch and gasp of pleasure elicited. Finally, his lips latched onto a peaked nipple, sucking and nipping and laving until the molten tension pooling in your abdomen tightened unbearably.

You cried out softly, a broken sob of desire. Your nails raked across his broad shoulders, seeking purchase. His answering groan was nearly feral, reverberating through you as he tugged at the stiffened peak with his teeth.

Your spine arched off the bed, hips bucking against his thigh that had wedged between yours. A whimper spilled from your parted lips as Megumi continued lavishing attention upon your breast, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip in teasing strokes. His hand palmed the other, kneading and pinching and tugging until the twin sensations became a dizzying feedback loop.

Every touch sent shocks of pure pleasure coursing through you, igniting sparks along nerve endings and setting your blood alight. You writhed against Megumi's muscular frame, seeking more, more, more. He answered your unspoken plea with a deep groan, his arousal hard and heavy against your hip.

The sound of his desire echoed in your core, the slickness between your thighs growing unbearable. Megumi was relentless in his ministrations, as if determined to worship every inch of your exposed skin. His tongue and teeth left a scorching path across the delicate swell of your breast, his hands trailing a fiery trail across the quivering plains of your abdomen.

The molten friction of his palms mapping the sloped concavities where hip met thigh, then the supple give of your ass, made you delirious with desire. Every part of you was alight with need, the coil of tension within you tightening beyond bearing. You writhed desperately beneath Megumi, the air filling with a symphony of broken moans and breathless pleas.

Then his fingers skimmed along the apex of your thighs, and the world went white. You were so wet, so ready, that the first touch sent a lightning bolt of pleasure arcing through you. Megumi's eyes blazed into yours as he stroked your aching folds, the heat of his gaze searing you more than his touch.

The slick glide of his fingertips against your swollen clit was exquisite, the pressure exactly what you needed. Megumi seemed to sense your desire, circling and rubbing the bundle of nerves until you were practically writhing beneath him. Your hips bucked up to meet his hand, thighs trembling and voice breaking.

With his free hand, he pinned you down to the mattress, fingers gripping your hip with bruising intensity. His gaze never wavered from yours, his dark irises blown wide with lust. He looked at you as if you were a goddess to be worshiped, his expression filled with awe and desire.

Your climax crashed over you in a devastating wave, the pressure within you cresting beyond containment. A sob tore from your lips as the sensations overwhelmed you, the muscles of your abdomen spasming and your thighs clamping together around his hand.

Megumi continued stroking you, prolonging the ecstasy, until you were a quivering mess. Your whole body was alight with sensation, aftershocks of pleasure radiating through you with each ragged breath. You felt utterly boneless, sated beyond imagining.

Yet beneath that languid satiety, a renewed undercurrent of hunger simmered. The sight of Megumi's fingers, slick and glistening, only fueled the need within you. You watched through heavily-lidded eyes as he brought them to his lips, licking them clean. The sight was indescribably erotic, the knowledge that it was your taste on his tongue making you ache for more.

With a low growl, Megumi descended once more, capturing your mouth in a blistering kiss. His tongue slid against yours, the tang of your arousal filling your senses. Your arms wound around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. The press of his bare chest against yours sent a fresh surge of want coursing through you, your desire already mounting anew.

Megumi kissed you hungrily, as if he were a man starved. His hands roamed restlessly across your body, leaving a trail of searing heat in their wake. Your hips rolled up to meet his, the hard line of his arousal pressing against your slick core.

The friction was delicious, the need within you coiling tighter with each passing second. You were aching for him, desperate for more. With a muffled moan, you tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, urging them down.

Megumi pulled back just enough to shed the rest of his clothing, baring himself completely to you. His cock jutted proudly between his muscled thighs, the tip glistening with precum. Your eyes widened at the sight, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Megumi's gaze was dark with desire, his expression a heady combination of longing and restraint. He loomed over you, his body thrumming with barely leashed power.

You felt a frisson of anticipation as he settled between your parted thighs, the thick heat of his arousal pressing against your entrance.

Then, with a guttural groan, he sank into you. The stretch and pressure were almost overwhelming, but the delicious friction quickly overrode any discomfort. Megumi moved with slow, steady thrusts, his hips grinding against yours in a sinuous rhythm.

You clutched at his back, fingers digging into the corded muscles. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, closer. The room filled with the sound of your panting breaths and the slap of skin against skin.

The molten coil within you tightened, winding tighter and tighter. Megumi's pace increased, his thrusts growing more erratic. His breath was hot against your ear, his groans echoing in your skull. You could feel the tension within him mounting, his movements becoming more frantic.

And then, with a final, desperate thrust, he drove you both over the edge. Your climax shattered through you, wave after wave of pleasure rippling through your core. Megumi followed suit, his cock pulsing inside you as he shuddered above you.

In the blissful aftermath, you and Megumi remained entwined as one - a tangle of flushed limbs and shared breaths that defied any attempt at separation. Though your bodies had been driven to sublime extremes, there was no sense of depletion, only a profound fullness expanding within your joined spirits.

You trembled in soulful rapture, gasps intermingling with Megumi's own ragged exhales as the world gradually recomposed itself around you. Every nerve ending still burned with the rapturous afterglow, an exalted benediction lapping against the most primordial hollows of your being.

In that sacrosanct cocoon you had spun together through devoted passion, the fragile shells of individuality had fallen away to reveal the scintillant essence beneath. You didn't just feel sated, but spiritually transmuted - two souls having shed their chrysalides to be reborn as something greater through sacred rites of unity.

Boneless and weightless, you could only bask in the incandescent glow of that metamorphosis. For in that endless moment spanning innumerable lifetimes and worlds, you had glimpsed the divine truth at the heart of humanity's highest calling - to love, and be loved completely in return.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #fushiguro megumi x reader smut #megumi x reader smut #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi smut #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro