#upper chest pain after drinking water

[harmeet-saggi]

Why Does Chest Pain Occur When Drinking Water?

Chest pain after drinking water can be a concerning and uncomfortable experience. You take a sip, and suddenly, you're hit with an unexpected ache. This article will delve into the various reasons why chest pain might occur during or after drinking water and what you can do to alleviate it.

[slightly-knot-insane]

waaahh omg hi!!!! could I maybe get an eldritch sea monster that just loves his little diver he found? (he totally didn’t kidnap you from the rear of your team…) mayyybbee with some breeding/eggpreg? frothing at the mouth

Underwater sexy time finally finished! Thank you for the request! It's a bit longer since I wanted to add this because you liked it ^^

[ m!sea monster x ftm!reader ]

It was meant to be just a simple skinny-dip with your friends. Then you saw a beautiful bluish purple light underwater. It was so pretty you just had to see what it was! Foolishly, you walked into the sea, deeper and deeper, until the water reached your shoulders and then - something grabbed your ankle and pulled you under.

And now you're here, in this cave, surrounded by wet stone, and a water pool at your feet... With a large monster peeking from it. It has something resembling a face with mouth and multiple set of eyes. It doesn't speak to you, but it brought you a strange fish to eat, and fresh water to drink. The raw meal is rather nourishing, and you are not hurt, so you relax a little bit.

While you eat, the creature completely exits the pool and slides next to you. Ethereal bioluminescence decorates its translucent skin. Frills, tentacles and spines grow out of its body. It is both scary and fascinating. It doesn't do anything else aside from watching you, and any attempts to speak to it are met with silence and curious tilts of its slightly humanoid head. It doesn't seem to like the air very much. It starts heaving after barely fifteen minutes next to you and then quickly enters the water for, what you assume, a dose of oxygen.

After a few minutes alone, the creature exits the pool and, this time, gets even closer to you. It touches you and is surprisingly gentle. The being also insists on you touching it - it pulls your hand toward its massive body. You obey and glide your palm over its smooth and slick skin. Your nerves barely register touch - that's how polished and silky the creature is.

With a tremble of its tentacles, it pushes you on the ground, its eyes fixated on yours. The monster is heavy and you can't move, so you just squeal in panic. It slides and moves upward, arching over your entire body. It holds you by your shoulders firmly against the rocky floor. You are presented with two penises, swollen and pulsating in bioluminescent purple light.

"Whoa, slow—" but your words are cut short. One of the penises dives into your mouth, and the other one eagerly rubs against your chest and neck. It is oozing some strange liquid and soon you're covered with lubricant sort of substance. Penises are very flexible and mobile, and the one in your mouth is exploring your teeth and tongue, rubbing against your soft tissue. For some reason, you are not scared but excited. The phallus tastes peculiar but not unpleasant. The monster above you moans in a strange, guttural way and the organic lights flicker into pink shade. It moves its lower body, slowly rocking, and penises thrust and rub harder until, with a strong jolt, they spurt cold and very thick liquid onto your chest and into your mouth.

Wheezing, the monster quickly retreats into the water, leaving you soiled and sticky. You cough and yell at the creature for not preparing you, worried about the thing that you just ate. After just a few minutes, the monster is on top of you again, wet and recovered, pushing you down and shoving the upper penis into your mouth. It fucks your mouth until it climaxes again and you swallow its seed.

This is repeated many times, until your stomach is completely full of sperm and swollen. Exhausted, you fall asleep as soon as you are given a break.

You are woken up by an unpleasant feeling. You can't... breathe? It hurts when you inhale as if your lungs shrunk. You try to cough and take deep breaths, but that causes you even more pain.

"Heee... heeee... lp..." Your words are more like hisses, barely audible. You fall on your knees, tears falling down your cheeks and you feel some strange growth on your jaw. Are those... gills? Long tentacles glide around your waist and swiftly pull you underwater.

Once you're inside water, you gasp - really gasp - because you can breathe! No more pressure and sharp pain. You can breathe underwater!

The monster is in front of you. He (how do you know it's a he?) moves with grace, circling you, swimming and letting out happy clicking noises. It looks so much bigger, intimidating, but also incredibly beautiful in his element. The tentacles surround you, pull you toward him, and explore every part of your body: your hair, neck, armpits, legs, scars and gills. You are mesmerized, getting incredibly aroused by this creatures touches and wonderful lights of his skin. They slowly change from gentle blue to royal purple.

The penises are out again, but the lower one that used to be smaller is now quite longer and there is white orb at the base of it. The creature grabs you, pulls you up and the top penis prods your hole. Luckily, the creature doesn't force it. He finds your t-dick and uses one of his frilled tentacles to rub it. The sensation is incredible and you can't help it but respond. With every limb he has, he locates your erogenous zones and fondles them while carefully observing your emotions.

When you're on the edge of climax, he slowly pushes the top penis into your hole. Surrounded by water, it slides easily and deeply, and takes only few thrusts to shatter you.

While still pulsating from your orgasm, the creature takes out his cock and presents his thick and a lot longer lower one. The light changes to dark pink and he shoves his massive phallus inside you. You arch your back, pushing him away from overstimulation, but he doesn't budge. His light becomes pulsating red and you can see glowing orbs the size of your fist moving inside his shaft into your body. As they slide under your t-dick, you shake from intense pleasure and it takes only three of them to push you over the edge again. The tentacles hold you firmly in place while the monster places his eggs inside you. Soon your belly swells. It's an incredible feeling, stretched by warm objects that emit waves of pleasure through your tissue every time they shift.

So many eggs and so many orgasms after, you wake up in monsters embrace, wrapped around by his tentacles. He happily clicks as a greeting and one of his arms touches your belly. It is huge, skin stretched like a balloon and glowing in soft red light. With a joyous smile, you touch it and happily click, click, click yourself.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

cute bath with jason, candles and bubbles and light music playing and he’s sitting behind you and giving you kisses as you just talk about eachothers days

—

Time Written - 10:50 p.m

—

“I saw somewhere that they sell these trays that hang on the tub, like hooking on the edges. You can use it to read your book inside. With a glass of wine or tea, or scotch too.”

Rough fingers along your back rolled any remaining knots in your muscles, calloused hands gently stroking along the junction of our shoulder and neck.

“Scotch?” Jason huffs in amusement. “C’mon, y’know I’m not a scotch guy.”

“Whiskey, bourbon. Whatever,” you giggle, leaning your head forward as you swipe along any stray wet hair, only to feel his fingers completely halt.

“You forgot my tastes??” Jason expressed with complete shock at this horrifying discovery. “Baby, I’m hurt.”

Any further giggling was unavoidable as you see his face; twisted into mock pain, his lips formed into a tragic quiver as he gives his version of puppy dog eyes.

“An’ here I was, so very very proud of myself to drive all across town to that lush store you like so much, All for the bath salts!” Vocally expressing his pain, he clutched his chest in one hand, dramatically swooping his damp curls back to dress his palm over his forehead.

“Oh my god, Jason!”

“And they weren’t even on sale!” Jason continues on, leaning his head back further with feigned agony. “I spent good money on my woman, an’ she forgets that I’m a bourbon man!”

“Jason stop it!” You turn yourself just a little more, both hands coming out of the milky waters to settle along his upper arms.

“I got you that bottle of Four Roses earlier, I know what my man loves.”

Jason smirks whilst withdrawing his hands from their prior positions. He can’t help but laugh a little himself, lowering one of his hands under water to rest along your hip.

“What I love is that pretty look on your face, Doll.” He pinches your chin with feather-like softness before kissing you.

Coming home to this everyday; you, was a gift.

Getting to spend every minute in your intoxicating presence. What drug or alcohol could be possibly infect himself with when his brain provided such ecstasy with one look at you?

The lights were dimmed, the water still clung to its toasty warmth. The milky waters seeping with sweet soap, pearlescent powders, crushed oats and herbal oils.

An exquisite tastes of both lavender and honey soothing elegance, bodies dripping in glittering gold.

In some cases, you didn’t wanna do anything sexual when Jason came home. This bath, for example, both of you were naked yes, but it was possible to not think such thoughts in a precarious state.

Your one and only was home safe and sound, You loved nothing more.

Jason was more than okay with that.

If you weren’t up to it, neither was he. Vice versa.

A perfect, consensual balance.

This was much better than a book, even better than a drink. The sleep he always got after these baths were heavenly, nearly slumbering like a baby each time.

“After the day I’ve had, I prefer this right here instead of a drink.” Jason re-swipes his soaking wet hair back along his head, growing slightly irritated from his dipping curls dripping onto his face.

“What a way with words, handsome.” You smile as you turn your body slightly, letting your upper half settle more comfortably against his. His hand settles along your back, running soothing circles against your glistening skin.

“Jason.”

“Hm?”

“If I did buy you that bath tray, would this mean you’d read to me in here?”

“Probably,” he replies, pondering over which book exactly. Also if he believes he could be comfortable enough with literature in the tub.

“Might as well do some skincare too,” you ponder over the idea, to Jason’s confusion.

“Like, some eye masks or something. Make it a spa day.”

Jason remained… intrigued, adamant. Only eye masks he’s seen you use were those glittery jelly ones you put under your eyes. He’s tried them once, per your request. They weren’t bad, but he didn’t understand the uses to this day.

“You’re just giving Dick more things to talk about.” Jason chuckles, his eyes closing as your hand readjusts his sopping wet, snowy curl out of his face.

“As if he needs to know what we do. This is our time, remember?”

“Mhm.” He leans close, pressing a kiss along your cheek before leaning just a little lower, leaving a softer peck underneath your ear.

“Our time.” He murmurs, feeling your head lean against his touches.

“The day I can dress you in a bright pink robe—“

“Babe no.” Oh boy. “C’mon—“

“-With feather lining and fuzzy slippers. You’d look adorable!” Your purposefully cheery accent had him groaning your name in false irritancy against your neck, rolling his eyes.

“There’s no deal you can make with me for that to happen, Princess.”

“I can be very persuasive, Mister Todd,” your tone drops from its cheerful tease into a more slow, much familiar tune he was well accustomed to.

His chest rumbles with amusement, teal eyes narrowing with interest in your statement. You’re really eager for him to do such? Now you piqued his interest.

“I’d like to see you try, pretty girl.”

[hypnoneghoul]

Fuuuck, Hyp (is it okay to call you that?)!! I loved daddy Aether!

May I request daddy/babyboy Swissalps, maybe with piss included? Only if you are okay with it ofc!

i already said it but idk if u saw so yes, hyp is okay. any version of hypnone and my real name if you know it is alright :) anyway, swissalps daddy/babyboy with piss for you also mountain has a pussy

“Oh, oh fuck, oh shit, daddy…”

“Good boy,” Swiss cooed, running his big, warm hand up and down the slight bump of Mountain’s belly. The knowledge that a part of it was his fat cock buried balls deep in his mate’s cunt made his insides heat up. The other part was Mountain’s full bladder, filled to the brim after drinking concerning amounts of water in the last few hours. “My perfect baby boy.”

Swiss canted his hips up, drilling his cock even deeper, moaning at the tightness and wetness of the earth ghoul. Mountain whimpered, hands clenching where they were planted firmly on Swiss’ thighs, looking for purchase. The multi ghoul was sitting against the headboard of their bed, his mate in his lap, back to chest.

“D– Daddy, I– I can’t hold it,” Mountain cried out, shuddering on top of the other. Swiss smirked against the sweaty skin of his back before digging his fingers into his stomach to hear him let out more sweet, high pitched noises. “Oh.”

“It’s okay, baby,” the multi ghoul said, holding the bigger ghoul down and still, only grinding up into him. “You don’t have to hold it for much longer, yeah? Alright?”

“Yes, daddy,” he moaned and squeezed his eyes shut. Swiss could see the tears from where he hooked his chin over Mountain’s shoulder. He chuckled at the sight and licked them right off of his burning cheeks.

“So wet everywhere.” Swiss snapped his hips upwards once again, jostling the earth ghoul’s entire body, making him fold in on himself. He straightened up immediately, though, the hunched over position putting even more of that painful pressure on his bladder.

“Fuck, I– I have to,” he whined. “Daddy, please, I have to, let me, please.”

Swiss wanted to make him hold out longer. He wanted to see and taste more tears, hear more cries and moans, but Mountain felt too good for his own sanity to remain.

The multi ghoul wrapped his arms around his mate’s upper body and rolled them over. Mountain whimpered at the change, but this time it sounded more pained. “You alright, baby?”

“Yes, just– just wanna see you, daddy,” he mumbled into the pillow that his face ended up smushed into. “Please.”

Swiss’ insides twisted. “Of course, my love.”

He pulled out carefully, and with soft and gentle hands turned Mountain over, laying him out on his back and setting back between his legs. The earth ghoul smiled up at him, all dopey and blissed out and Swiss couldn’t help but return it before bending down to kiss the grin right off of his face. Mountain huffed into his lips and hooked his heels over his mate’s hips, pulling him in. They both moaned when Swiss pushed back in, as deep as he could reach. “Good boy.”

“Can’t– no longer, daddy, I can’t,” the earth ghoul whined and Swiss couldn’t bring himself to deny him again.

“Gotcha, baby boy,” he pressed their lips together and snapped his hips. “Do it, let go for me, my love.”

Mountain let out a wrecked noise as he clenched around Swiss’ cock before gushing around him, piss and cum. The multi ghoul shuddered and grunted, his orgasm washing over him just as his mate’s juices did. “Good fucking boy, baby.”

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Nick Amaro: Protest 

This technically is a pre-story to this but can be read as a standalone. Warnings: Slight mention of Sexual Assult  

Nick walked back into the bullpen as a herd of protesters were being led in. There had been a slut walk tonight. Hundreds of women had flocked to the streets to protest victim blaming and slut shaming. There had been a case of rape that had been all over the news where the police and media had been more concerned with the length of a victim’s skirt and how many drinks she had consumed than going after the big wig producer. Nick understood their frustration but didn’t see how a bunch of half-naked women walking down a Manhattan Street was going to help. With how hostile the case was going it seemed like asking for trouble at this point. 

Trouble had of course been found. A few men had protested the protest, three had been flashers running through the crowd exposing themselves, one being as bold as to rip down the protester's top. Now gaggles of girls were waiting in the lounge area to pick the assailants out of lineups. Nick notices a barely dressed girl hovering in the lobby. He downs half of his energy drink in one pull before going over to tell her to return to the lobby to wait. 

“Excuse me, are you here for the lineup-” Nick cuts off when you turn around and it takes him a moment longer than it should for his brain to register that it was you. He has known you for a couple of months now. You were a cute little thing. A part of the Crime Scene Unit. The two of you had talked and been around each other at various crime scenes. Nick liked you, you were sweet and funny if not a bit of an oversharer. Granted you seemed to like poking fun at yourself and your rather strange decisions that had some interesting fallout and it got people laughing. 

He is used to seeing you in a shapeless, oversized dark blue crime scene jumper. It takes his brain time to process the cute girl to the sexy woman in front of him. He couldn’t help the appreciative lingering glance. You were wearing high-heeled boots and a short skirt that he was at risk of flashing your underwear if you attempted to bend down or move too quickly and left a glorious amount of toned skin from your calves to upper midthigh on display. A sleeveless wide-dropped, white top that was barely covering your generous chest was only held together with a tie at the bottom snug under your breast struggling to keep them contained. Across your bare stomach written in red was #METOO. His jaw tightened as he wondered about the events that could have caused you to join.    

“Detective Amaro,” His dark eyes shoot up to yours as he focuses on your face. “Yes, I’m waiting on the lineup. All the crazy things always happen at the protests I swear, at least I’m not the one under arrest this time.” You grin self-indulgently. 

“You’ve been arrested at a protest?” He couldn't imagine you getting into any kind of trouble.  

“Once or twice. Charges were never filed.” You cross your arms over your chest, which causes your breasts to strain even more against your white top. The movement caught his gaze. Nick could just make out the lines of your hard nipples through your flimsy top. You seemed completely unaware of his heated gaze as you told him about being sprayed with a water hose and pepper spray, cuffed, and booked for a night while protesting the fracking of Indian land while you were in college. You thought they felt bad and that’s why they released you so easily. You had been pushed down and broken your nose giving you two gnarly black eyes. He couldn’t help but chuckle when you stated that another woman who had been arrested with you spiritually healed and blessed you with sage-infused water in the cell you shared claiming it would help with the physical pain too. It hadn't. 

“Your college days and mine were very different.” You didn’t get a chance to answer as a cuff perp was walking in and saw you. He ogled you and whistled before being pushed into holding. Nick moved to stand in front of you defensively. You shift uncomfortably remembering that you didn’t have much on and suddenly feeling very exposed. You weren’t the type to flaunt your body. This protest had just called for you to go over the top and out of your normal tomboy zone. You feel the warmth over your shoulders and look back to see Nick wrapping his suit jacket around you.  

“Thank you,” You shrug further into it sliding your arm through the sleeves. The scent of his cologne musky with a spicy tinge overwhelms you. Nick is taller than you and the jacket hangs down nearly to your knees. You go to do up the button to completely cover yourself before remembering the red lettering on your stomach, you don’t want it to bleed onto his clothes. You feel his gaze on you. Nick felt something in him change when he saw you wearing his jacket. Lust pooled in his belly and he didn’t think he would ever be able to reconnect his mind with you just being the cute CSU girl who overshares again.  

“You can button that up if you want, I’m not worried about it.” You give him a grateful nod before buttoning the jacket. It helps cover the bare skin, but your chest is much larger than Nick’s and it stretches the fabric bunching it awkwardly, and your breasts are still falling out. 

“You can ask if you want detective.” He had led you over to his desk and you leaned against it. 

“You’ve been sexually assaulted.” You hum in response, “Did you ever press charges? We could file a report-” 

“That’s not necessary. It was years ago.” You play with a ring on your finger, twisting it. “It’s not like the cases you get here.” 

“Any sexual assault-” 

“Yeah, yeah I know the spiel.” You shake your head at him, “It wasn’t anything crazy. Just one incident in college. I was at a party and there was this drunk guy. I didn’t really know him or anything and he didn’t know me, clearly.” You laugh to yourself before rolling your eyes. Then turned back to look at Nick, “He cornered me and slid his hand down my pants. When I told him no, he didn’t listen. He was clearly drunk and thought I was too. I wasn’t. I only had one drink. What he didn’t know was that I had been wrestling since middle school and took kickboxing classes throughout high school.” You shrug your shoulder nonchalantly, “So, when I told him to stop again, and he didn’t I kneed him in the junk hard enough that he spit out blood.” 

“And then?” You start tugging at the jacket sleeve.  

“Then nothing. I got up and left. I was called into the office the next day. They gave me a choice if I didn’t report it as sexual harassment then I wouldn’t get in trouble for violence and underage drinking on campus.” 

“You get harassed, and they try to put the blame on you to get you not to report to save their school image.” You watch his frustration spike and grin at him. 

“You’re a good fit here. It’s nice to know that some cops are still on our side.” He calms down and feels great satisfaction at your praise. “Honestly though, I wasn’t planning on pressing charges. I think he got the picture. I kind of feel bad sometimes... about how hard I hit him. I wonder if he will ever be able to have kids now.” 

“I don’t think it will hurt the world if he doesn’t.” Nick sighed as he read your face. You seemed fine talking about what had happened and he was glad that you had been able to take care of yourself but your not reporting did bother him. You heard your name being called and saw Liv waving to you to do your lineup, so you stood. “Hey, do you want me to call someone for you? To take you home that is. Are you dating someone?” He feels the air pulled out of his sails when you respond. 

“Yeah, Teddy Jackson from homicide. No need to call him though. He’d be pissed if he found out I went to this protest. I don’t feel like another fight.” You give him one more smile before slipping out of his jacket and handing it back to him. “Thank you for the company though Detective Amaro.”     

This was supposed to be a short two-pager. Oh well, I have two more parts to this of Nick pining after you while you are with my made-up homicide detective. I have a notebook of ideas for Nick and I'm trying to get through them before I start up new ideas or they usually get trashed. Hope you enjoyed xoxo

[itsawhumpsideblog]

The Safehouse, pt. 10

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things, description of injuries

Advice from the Box Boy Liberation Movement:

Explaining to rescuees that they have been rescued is often a more complicated task than you might expect. Some rescuees quickly grasp that they are no longer held under the control of another person and are excited to begin the work of "taking ownership" of themselves. Others struggle to understand what freedom means for them. They may be ambivalent about the changes this signals and, because of the brainwashing inherent in their training, may not know how to exert control over their circumstances. They may even interpret "free" to mean that they are no longer wanted, have failed in their assigned roles, or are personally worthless. Reassure them and continue to provide a high degree of structure for these rescuees.

That first night, Tim slept lightly in the chair next to Francis. He was used to this from nights on call at the hospital and got as much rest as he ever had there, which was to say, just a sufficiency. He had assured Angie that he could take care of things and, once he added a promise to wake her if she was needed, she went back to her room.

After the bath and medicine had brought his fever back to a manageable temperature, Francis slept deeply, almost desperately, through the rest of the night. With Francis asleep, Mikey's anxiety ebbed slightly away and he, too, was at last able to close his eyes without jerking awake to ensure that Francis was still in bed and breathing.

The next morning, Tim woke and stretched and looked around the bright little room. Mikey was propped up on the pillows, twitching and frowning in his sleep, but Francis was lying very still and composed beneath the comforter that Tim had drawn over him the night before. His chest rose and fell very slightly as he breathed and there was an unhealthy flush over his cheekbones, but he otherwise looked almost as if he had been posed there and instructed not to move.

Thinking of the training and abuse that must have gone into instilling this amount of self-control in Francis, even when he was clearly in pain, made Tim's heart ache. He didn't realize that he was staring until Francis' eyes slowly slid open and he gave a confused look around the room, his gaze pausing on Mikey and then on Tim. He looked like he had questions, but said nothing.

"Good morning," Tim said quietly, just to break the silence. He reached over and put a hand on Francis' head; his heart gave another pang when Francis closed his eyes for just a moment before opening them again and lying rigid, as if at attention, until Tim shifted in his chair.

"Do you think you can drink some water?" Tim asked.

"Yes, Master." Francis spoke in a dry, weak voice and then cleared his throat. Tim slid a hand under his head and lifted it to help him drink, then settled him back on the pillow and put the cup down.

"Open your mouth, please?" Tim asked. Francis did so, automatically and obediently, and Tim slid the thermometer under his tongue. The two of them waited quietly for the result and Tim said, "Better than last night. Not great, but better." He could practically feel Francis watching him, as if he was waiting for an emotion to reflect back. "I think you'd better stay in bed today, or on the couch if you want some company. Honestly, given..." he waved vaguely, "all of this, you're probably going to be laid up for a while. But don't worry, we'll take good care of you." He smiled and received a wan, eager-to-please smile in return.

"Good morning, you two," Angie's voice said from the doorway, and at her voice, Mikey yawned, tried instinctively to stretch, and woke up with a silent cry of pain that showed on his face, although he still had not made a sound.

"Whoa, careful there!" Angie hurried over to put a hand on his upper back and brace his arm as he sat up. His face twisted in pain at the movement, but he gritted his teeth through it and was soon upright. Angie sat down next to him and patted his back as he took deep breaths, evidently waiting for the pain to subside.

"How's it going this morning, Francis?" she asked.

"This Pet is in working condition, Mistress." Tim's gut twisted at the words. Francis' voice was dry and quiet and every word clearly represented effort. Francis was by no means "in working condition". Tim laid a hand on Francis' forehead and stroked his bangs back, hoping the gesture was as comforting as he meant it to be.

"Working condition or not," he said, trying to sound relaxed, "I think he's got some recovery still ahead of him. Your fever's down," he added, trying to make a point to speak directly to Francis, "but we'll need to make sure you take your medicine on time so it stays that way."

"Yes, Master." It seemed to cost him a great effort to speak.

"And at some point, maybe this afternoon, we'll put more antibiotic cream on and change your bandages. But I think that'll be all the excitement you need for today! And anyway, Angie and I will worry about the schedule, so you just try to relax and we'll take good care of you."

Across the room, Angie had stood and opened the top drawer of the dresser, fully stocked with clothes in a variety of sizes so that new rescuees would have something to wear until the safehouse staff was able to get their sizes and begin helping them put together a wardrobe.

"Mikey," Angie said, "Would you like to get dressed for the day? I'll help you and then maybe we can go downstairs." He nodded, as she had expected he would, but he did not stand up.

"How does this look?" she asked, pulling out a blue t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. "It should be comfortable, but do you like it? I think these are probably your size, but we can try something else, if not."

Mikey still hadn't moved and now he was staring in her direction, although Angie noticed that his eyes didn't actually rest on her face. She pulled out another shirt. "Or would you like this one? Either is fine- you're allowed to want things, here. And have opinions."

Still the rescuee did not move. He was holding himself very still and very tense and suddenly he tore his gaze away from her and locked eyes desperately with Francis. Come to think of it, Angie realized that Francis looked nervous as well. Her stomach sank and she tried to remember what their training materials had said.

According to the training, they were supposed to give their rescuees choices- small ones- as soon and as often as possible, although they didn't need to make choosing a power struggle. If rescuees didn't want to choose, it was okay not to make them, but it was best to continue presenting them with choices to help them learn about the concept.

"This Pet- that Pet- wants you to know that he will wear whatever you like, Mistress," Francis said. "He has been trained properly and he will do as he is told. As we both will, Mistress." Mikey nodded, a little frantically, as if begging her to believe him. His eyes were wide and his face taut with worry.

Now it was Angie's turn to exchange a look with Tim. She set the clothes back down and nodded in the direction of the door. Ignoring for the moment the nervous looks that Francis and Mikey were wearing, they stepped outside the room to confer.

"I think we ought to tell them," Angie said. Tim bit his lip and looked conflicted.

"I don't disagree, but... I guess I was hoping to wait until Francis was stronger, you know? Apparently it can be quite a shock. I don't want to, like, set them back or hurt them or anything."

"I know. If they were in better shape, it would be easier, at least I think it would, but-"

"Yeah."

"We're scaring them, though," Angie pointed out and Tim nodded. She had a definite point there. "They know we're weird- I mean by their standards- and they don't understand why we're not what they were expecting. And it's like they kept saying in training- Francis and Mikey obviously come from places where the- the owners or whatever we're calling them were really strict, but to them that also means they knew what the boundaries were and what they were supposed to do, literally all the time. And we keep asking them to, like, sit on the furniture and rest while they can see us working, and it's freaking them out."

"Yeah," Tim said again. He sighed. "I don't want to freak them out by dropping all this information on them right away while they're still settling in, but maybe we're making it worse? Because it seems like they think they have to guess, or that we're testing them. And we're not, but we can't even tell them that and expect them to believe it because they have no background for what's actually going on here."

"I think we're talking ourselves into doing it," Angie said. She looked back to the room where, as far as she could tell, neither of the Pets had moved a muscle.

"Let's get this over with," Tim said. He looked very nervous all of a sudden and Angie gave him a tight smile and patted his shoulder as they headed back into the room.

Two pairs of eyes followed them from the minute they entered the doorway as Tim took his place in the chair beside Francis and Angie sat down on the foot of Mikey's bed.

"Everything's okay," Tim said, looking from one of them to the other and trying to seem relaxed. "There's nothing wrong. But we wanted to talk to the two of you and sort of- explain why-"

"Why everything here is a little weird," Angie put in. "Obviously, Tim and I are... kind of different. And there's a reason for that."

Francis was having a hard time wrapping his mind around what Master and Mistress were saying. Obviously they were unusual, he had noticed that, but he had assumed they were simply very casual Pet owners who wanted some cute or handsome companionship and didn't care if he and Mikey could perform tasks. It was uncommon but not unheard of.

But now, if he understood them correctly, they were saying that they were not, in fact, his Master and Mistress- or Mikey's, either. They were saying that he was not owned by anybody now. This made no sense until Mistress phrased it differently- "You own yourselves," she had said.

Francis stared straight up at the bottom of the upper bunk, his head whirling with shock, never mind the fever. He turned the phrase over and over in his mind. What would it be like to own himself? Could he give himself permission to sit on the couch? Would he be able to... Francis searched his memory frantically for a list of things people could do that he had not been allowed.

Eat just because he was hungry.

Wear clothing that was warm enough, no matter how it looked.

Cut his hair.

Speak without permission.

Sleep until he woke up naturally.

As Francis thought about it, a sense of sudden, thrilling possibility washed over him and he found that his hands were shaking. Then he realized that he was smiling.

Across the room, Mikey sat very still on the bed. He, too, heard the words as if they were bouncing around the inside of his head. Mistress said she didn't own him. He wasn't her Guard Dog, wasn't her Pet, wasn't hers at all.

They didn't want him. This seemed almost impossible and completely at odds with their behavior. After all, they had given him food and took care of his arm and... they had even given him a name! And now he was not wanted.

Mikey began making his own list, of things he had done wrong. Maybe if he could find the reason they thought he was a bad boy, he could fix whatever it was and they would consent to keep him, even though he was useless and they didn't really want him there. He had to figure out what he had done, because if they put him out, he felt sure he would not survive long. Not with his hands too broken to work or even scavenge, and his shoulder, that he could barely move...

Was that it? Was it his broken shoulder that offended them? Perhaps he was more defective than they had anticipated and they weren't interested in fixing him up.

Or maybe... maybe they had tried to fix him and he had not been properly cooperative and grateful. They had cut his shirt away and given him a sling to hold his arm in- stupid, broken, useless arm that made him cringe in pain and how could they possibly want to look at that? They probably thought he was afraid and who would want a frightened Guard Dog? And he hadn't even thanked them.

They were right. He was a bad boy.

Tim and Angie were all but holding their breath as they watched the rescuees process what must be an overwhelming amount of information. Privately, Tim worried that Francis would faint; he had gone very pale and his eyes widened as he listened to them. His breath came in gasps, as if he was having a panic attack, which perhaps he was.

While Tim focused on Francis, Angie heard a sniffling sound from somewhere on her left. She turned to check on Mikey and realized with horror that he was absolutely frozen, tears pouring silently down his face.

"Hey, Mikey, it's okay," she said, trying her best to sound comforting. Her hand hovered behind his back, but she was afraid to bring it down, even gently, and risk hurting him. "It really is. I promise, it's going to be okay."

The realization that Mikey was taking the news badly seemed to rouse Francis from his shocked reverie. "Mistress," he said shyly, "This Pet- that Pet- does not seem to understand. He believes he has displeased you and you are getting rid of him."

"Mikey, do you think that?" Angie sounded horrified. "Do you think we meant we're getting-" she almost couldn't say it. "That we- don't want you? Or we're upset with you?"

Mikey did not react. He was trying to stop this crying, that should have been trained out of him. No wonder they didn't want him. No wonder. How could they want him now?

"Mikey, it's not like that," Angie said. "Francis, do you know- is there anything we can tell him to help him understand?"

"This Pet thinks it will help him to know that he is not being put outside or sent for retraining. That Pet is worried that he is not wanted and that it is his fault." Francis' voice was very solemn now. He had switched focus from his own thoughts to someone else's needs almost seamlessly. How many times had that happened before, Angie wondered?

She decided to be bold and set her hand lightly on Mikey's back, rubbing soft, slow circles, hoping her hand was far enough from his shoulder that he wouldn't be frightened. She took another risk and issued an order.

"Mikey, look at me, please," she said, gentle but firm. His training overrode all else and he turned until he could see her face clearly.

"We are not sending you away. Do you understand?" There was a long pause, and even though there was not yet any indication that he did understand, Angie kept going.

"You are not going to be re-trained. You are not going to be sent outside. You will stay here with us, inside, and we will take care of you. Understand?"

This time, something must have gotten through, because his head dipped in a faint nod.

"Good boy," she said, giving him the warmest smile she could muster and reaching up to smooth his bristly hair.

The words had slowly penetrated through the fog of Mikey's panic. Not sending you away. Not sent outside. With us. And, most importantly, Good boy. The ringing in his ears was quieter now and he could feel a warm, gentle hand on his back. He sneaked a look to his right and found that it was Mistress, rubbing his back and smiling encouragingly at him.

"I won't let anything bad happen to you, Mikey," she said. Promised. "You have a home here, with us. You're doing a good job and you're going to be okay."

Finally, Mikey nodded. He didn't quite believe it, but he thought that with a little practice, he might learn to. Besides, Mistress had said he was, actually, a good boy and surely she would know.

Next time: Francis and Mikey begin adjusting to a new life.

Master List

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! Also, I deeply enjoy reading your tags and comments, so thank you for that!

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds

[yourfavoritefuturedoctor]

Slow Dancing In A Burning Room ♕ Rafe Cameron

Disclaimer: I don’t own Outerbanks or its Characters

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, and Minimal Smut.

Word Count: 1,111

A/N: I know it’s been awhile since I last posted something, but I wanted to test my writing skills a little bit. I’ve loved this song for as long as I can remember and I’m even more obsessed with Rafe Cameron than I’ve ever been, so I thought I’d put together a piece featuring the two. Hope you enjoy!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It’s Not A Silly Little Moment

It’s Not The Storm Before The Calm

This Is The Deep Deep and Dying Breath Of

This Love That We’ve Been Working On

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) twirled the ice in her drink with a straw as she looked down at the water that kissed the boat as it made its way through the water, her mind occupied with thoughts of the argument her and Rafe had just had. It had been triggered by the simplest of things, like many of their arguments lately, and she was beginning to grow tired of the vicious cycle. 

“Is everything okay? I heard you and Rafe yelling.” Came the familiar voice of Sarah Cameron, her boyfriend’s younger sister and one of her best friends. (Y/N) shrugged as she lifted the glass in her hand to her lips, the Whiskey burning her chest in a way that seemed less painful than the words Rafe had uttered nearly half an hour ago. She wasn’t sure what to say, was everything okay? The obvious answer was no, everything was not okay and she wasn’t sure it ever would be again. Their love wasn’t the same anymore, it had slowly faded like the sun earlier that day, taking with it the last shred of hope (Y/N) had for their relationship. Her and Rafe’s end was inevitable, but she’d be lying if she said she was ready for it to end. 

“We’re always yelling,” She finally admitted to the blonde-haired girl, her now empty glass coming to rest on the table to her left. Sarah let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as the revelation came to light, her lips tugging down in a frown as she approached the older girl.

“That’s not healthy.” She stated, turning her head to take in the empty expression on (Y/N)’s face. She looked exhausted, her face paler than she’d ever seen it and her usual smile replaced with a tight line. A biter laugh escaped the (Y/H/C) girl’s lips as she took in what Sarah had said. 

“I know.” 

Can’t Seem To Hold You Like I Want To

So I Can Feel You In My Arms

Nobody’s Gonna Come And Save You

We Pulled Too Many False Alarms

(Y/N) woke the next morning to an empty bed, the spot Rafe usually occupied straightened up and his phone gone. He was no doubt already out and about, doing his damndest to prove himself as the rightful heir to his Father’s businesses. She hummed her disapproval and rolled onto her back looking up at the ceiling for what felt like the hundredth time that week. 

“Maybe it’s time to end this for good,” She told herself, unaware that the man she loved was standing in the doorway holding his car keys. He didn’t say a word as he took in her figure in their shared bed, his heart racing at what she’d just said. She couldn’t really feel that way, they’d come too far in the last few years to just walk away when things got hard. Sure they’d broken things off a few times before, but they always ended up right back together. 

“You don’t mean that.” He couldn’t stop himself from saying after a few minutes of silence, his voice startling her enough to make her sit upright and cover her upper half with the sheet she laid under. She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching vehicle, her full lips parted in shock that he was home and that he’d heard what she had said. 

“I do,” She admitted, averting her eyes from his as he took a step towards her. He shook his head, lifting a hand to his hair at the revelation and took a seat at the end of the bed once he’d reached it. 

“No, no you don’t.” 

We’re Going Down

And You Can See It Too

We’re Going Down

And You Know That We’re Doomed

My Dear, We’re Slow Dancing In A Burning Room 

Another night, another argument or that’s what it felt like as (Y/N) shoved clothing into her gym bag. She had finally reached her breaking point, she was finally done with this charade, and she didn’t think anything Rafe said was going to change her mind this time. He stood in the doorway like he had a few mornings ago watching her gather her things, his head in his hands. 

“You aren’t actually walking away from me, are you?” He sounded broken as he questioned her, not once moving from his position. He knew they had problems but he didn’t think they would’ve ever escalated to this level, he didn’t think she’d actually ever put their relationship to rest. Not after they’d tried on and off for so many years to make it work. (Y/N) sighed as she zipped her bag and shouldered it, her car keys coming to dangle from her fingers. 

“Don’t act surprised Rafe, you knew this was inevitable. We aren’t compatible anymore, if we ever were. I love you with my whole heart, there isn’t anything in the world that I wouldn’t do for you, but I can’t stay here and be with you when all we do is argue and ignore what one another are saying.” She told him as she made her way around the bed and towards the door, but he stopped her before she could take her leave. His hand gripped her wrist like it was the last time he’d ever see her, which it probably was, after all she planned to leave Kildare. 

“But I love you,” He hiccuped, tears pricking his eyes as he clung to the girl, to his girl. (Y/N) closed her eyes as she allowed him to pull her close to him, into his chest and inhaled his familiar scent. She loved him too, but she’d finally learned that just loving someone wasn’t enough to make them stay. Rafe sobbed into her neck, his body trembling as reality crashed down upon him. They were actually doomed, their relationship was doomed, and there was nothing he could do or say that was going to make her stay.

“I’m sorry.” She told him as she pulled away from him, tears pricking her own eyes as she turned on her heel and walked out the door. Forever was what everyone wanted from a relationship, it was what she originally wanted from Rafe, but forever just wasn’t possible for them anymore. Not when all they’d been doing for the last year was Slow Dancing In A Burning Room. 

[thuviel]

I'm 1 week post op!

I had top surgery last week aaaaaaaaah!!!! FINALLY! It took so many years, so many delays, so many disasters that it felt like it would never happen. But I fucking made it! I got double incision mastectomy with nipple grafts. Gonna document the recovery a bit too if it's helpful to anyone c: So this is how the first week went:

Day 1

The most pain I had was immediately upon waking up, but after a while the nurses gave me more morphine and it was chill. I'd still rate the pain around like badly twisted ankle level pain, not too bad

Extremely sleepy, couldn't keep my eyes open for more than a few moments and slept pretty much the whole day

Got discharged from the clinic 3 ish hours after surgery

I didn't have drains, just a tight compression wrap around my chest

Day 2

Pain level was still very chill as long as I took my painkillers regularly

Biggest challenge was doing stuff without using my chest muscles or extending my arms much, going to the bathroom was the most difficult

Used both morphine and paracetamol this day

Eating and drinking was fine, just smaller portions at a time

Day 3-7

By far the worst days of recovery so far

Back and neck pain from weird sleeping positions was becoming more annoying and bothersome than the actual surgery wounds

I had some bleeding on day 3, the left nipple bled through the bandages and all the way to the compression wrap. I contacted the clinic but it wasn't a concerning amount of blood and it stopped on its own pretty quickly

I stopped with the morphine and just took paracetamol, which I decreased over the days as the pain levels went down

By the end of the week I started to get a tiny bit more movement in my upper body, still not extending my arms but things didn't feel as tight immediately when moving and doing stuff with my arms

Turns out I was allergic to the antibiotics they gave me, so I dealt with some horrible symptoms these days. It's not usually part of recovery but good to look out for in case it happens to anyone else too. I got very sleep deprived, could't sleep more than 1-2 hours at a time. I would wake up feeling extremely warm (but no fever), really nauseous, weak, heart beating fast and hard, terrible headache, sometimes feeling like I couldn't breathe properly. I only slept 3-4 hours per day. Also had some diarrhea and acid reflux. I was very weak and shaky, getting weaker and more dizzy as the days went on instead of getting better. Luckily I could stop taking them on day 7, which is when I learned I was allergic to them lol

Day 7

I had my one week appointment where they took off the innermost bandages and removed the sticthes keeping the gauze stuck to my nipples. Nurse said things were healing well, some swelling but not too much. My left nipple had gotten a bit less bloodflow and looked much darker, like a burned pepperoni. Nurse said it's not unusual and it still looks okay, it should regain bloodflow and improve on its own in the coming days

Got to take a full shower for the first time after this. It was terrifying af to have water and soap run over my very fragile looking newborn nipples lol, but it felt so fucking good to be clean

I could also take off the compression wrap and clean it which was a blessing bc that thing was disgusting by this time. I have to keep wearing it 24/7 for the first month but can take it off briefly to clean it

Despite the terrible antibiotics reaction, the recovery has been less difficult than I thought tbh. I expected worse. By far the most challenging thing for me personally is having to ask for help with every tiny little thing ^^' But already seeing such a flat look with my shirt on in the mirror is amazing!

[nightghoul381]

Next Time, Tell me~ Jin Grandet x Reader

A little something for @randonauticrap since you aren't feeling great 💕

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Smut | Explicit Content | NSFW | MDNI WC: ~1k

Curled under your covers, you pulled your legs closer to your body in an attempt to find some sort of relief from the pain. The constant, dull ache punctuated by sharp stabbing pains had you bedridden and nearly in tears.

Shifting slowly to your other side you winced as another flash of blinding pain jolted through your abdomen. You let out a pained breath, freezing in place and closing your eyes tightly until the intensity finally began to fade. As you pry your eyes open again, you notice your door beginning to open.

A broad muscular frame steps into the room and deep claret eyes meet your own.

Another pain racks your body, causing your eyes to shut tightly again and a quiet whimper sneaks past your lips.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart.” Jin’s voice is much closer and you feel a warm hand come to rest on your arm.

The stabbing sensation finally subsides and you blink your eyes open. Jin’s face is right in front of yours, his eyebrows knitted in concern as he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“They told me you hadn’t come down for breakfast. I’m glad I came to check on you,” He hushed, settling onto your bed beside you before pulling you into his strong arms. You could feel his body providing such a soothing warmth, and instantly nuzzled against his chest.

He gently begins to stroke your hair and back as he holds you tightly and continues talking. His low timbre is even more alluring when you’re pressed like this against his chest.

“I wish you would’ve told me you were in pain, I wouldn’t have left this morning.”

“You had so much work to do, I didn’t want you to put it off,” you rasp, slightly surprised at how raw your voice sounds.

Jin reaches over to your bedside table and grabs the glass of water he pours for you every morning before he leaves, noticing that it was untouched.

“You are far more important to me than work, baby girl. Now sit up for just a moment and take a drink, it looks like you haven’t had anything today,” He murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head before moving you to an upright position.

You obediently take a sip from the glass, his hand never leaving the cup even after you put your own hands around it. The cool water feels heavenly running down your throat and you realize how thirsty you are. Your sip turns into a greedy gulp as you quench your thirst, only nudging the cup away after a few moments when you feel you’ve had enough.

You look up and Jin and see him smiling softly at you. His eyes never leave yours as he sets the glass back down and leans in, kissing your lips and sucking the residual moisture from your upper lip.

You can feel heat beginning to pool in your belly, creating a confusing combination of ache and desire.

“That’s my girl, now tell me what I can do for you. I want to make you feel as comfortable as I can.”

“The only thing I’ve been wanting all day is to be in your arms,” you admit wrapping your arms around his back, hugging him tightly.

Jin chuckles softly, the vibration of his laugh strangely comforting against your body.

“Funny, I’ve been wanting the same thing,” he whispers. “But I still think you ought to lay down and rest, so I’ll hold you while you’re curled up in front of me, how does that sound?”

“Amazing,” you sigh, releasing your hold on him and allowing him to maneuver the two of you into the more relaxed position, his large hand resting over your belly and providing such a soothing warmth, easing some of the pain.

Of course, his touch doesn’t remain there for too long, soon wandering up your side and around one of your breasts, giving a firm squeeze.

“That’s for not telling me.” He whispered softly, leaving kisses along your neck and fanning the flame he had started within you.

“Jin…” you whine, scooting your body back against him, your rear coming into contact with his obvious erection.

He stiffens, letting out a small laugh.

“I… I don’t know what to tell ya, having you in my arms like this, needing me to hold you… I like it, a lot.”

While his words seem to be making an excuse you’ve always known Jin loves feeling needed. And as though encouraging him, you grind yourself against him and draw out a throaty groan.

“Damn, baby…You’re making it real hard to be good.”

“Well,” you begin, “maybe I don’t necessarily want you to be good…”

Jin lets out a deep breath against your ear. His arm leaves your side momentarily and you quiver with excitement at the sound of his belt being loosened.

His hand moves against your thigh, slipping up under your nightgown and tugging your panties away.

You feel another jolt of pain but it’s soon eased with wave of pleasure that accompanies your lover filling you.

Jin slowly rocks against you, each movement sending blissful sensations through your core and stemming the pain.

His hand holding your hip moves slightly, allowing his long fingers to reach your most sensitive spot.

Pain is nowhere on your mind as you writhe against him. Everything feels so wonderfully euphoric it takes almost no time at all before you feel yourself approaching your peak.

“Hnngh…Jin I’m…” you whimper, clutching at his wrist as though trying to stabilize yourself.

“That’s good, let go baby, come for me.”

Your lover’s words unleash the torrent of ecstasy as your world falls away, nothing but the waves of pleasure crashing over your body remaining.

As your climax eases, you feel the rest of your body finally able to relax. Jin remains nestled within your walls, his hand now draped across your body and holding you firmly against his chest.

With the release of the tension, you find yourself incredibly tired and soon drift off to sleep, wrapped in Jin’s loving embrace.

Taglist: @candied-boys @aquagirl1978 @itsjudesfault @xbalayage @maries-gallery

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

[quaememinisse]

Title: You can scream my name as loud as you need to

Plot: smut, PIV, unprotected shmegs, orgasms

Pairing: Pedro x OFC

Author’s note: I am on vacation in Puerto Rico. And feeling some type of way.

Pedro’s bet made Eden laugh awkwardly the first time he made it one warm summer night the previous year, at an after party for a film festival they decided to attend, despite wanting to stay home and…do other things. Beneath the heat of Pedro’s rapidly swinging hips, she tries to remember why he even came up with this bet. They had gotten into some really edgy conversation with two other couples and some director she cannot recall the name of, as another orgasm seizes her whole being…a woman had said that her husband had given her the most orgasms of her life in the most romantic locations.

Paris being on of them, followed by Santorini. Pedro had taken a step closer, towered over Eden, stared her in the eyes with a sweet and simultaneously smitten, dirty, chocolatey gaze, and half-joked to Eden, who thought at the time that they were just very good friends who had crossed the line and started having a fling, he bet he could give her the most earth shattering orgasms in the Spanish-speaking places of the world. Eden had blushed maddeningly, sipping her sparkling water, thinking that Pedro was just a little bit too tipsy (he didn’t usually drink very much to begin with. His real vice remains cigarettes, which he’s still battling to quit, knowing it’s the only way Eden will agree to make out deeply with plenty of tongue, the way he most enjoys.)

“Pedro!” She gasps, her thighs trembling. He moans with satisfaction at her intense squirt.

“Mmmm,” he moans, pushing his girth eagerly back through her engorged opening. She had come so hard, it forced his cock clear out. Her gasp and eyes widening briefly eggs him on. He grazes her G-spot mercilessly, watching Eden’s breathing speed up again. She clutches and scratches at Pedro’s tanned upper back, crawling upwards a bit in the hotel bed. Pedro giggles, pulling her hips towards him again, reversing her mild escape.

“Where ya think you’re goin’?” He grins, pressing his hips taut against hers, “Ven aqui (come here), baby” and kegeling until his rapidly pulsating girth forces her into a gripping orgasm. He moans, keeping himself pressed deeply, on her A-spot, so she couldn’t spit him out this time. Her limbs go limp, no longer clinging to his flanks.

“Tómalo (take it),” he says, kissing her sweating forehead, intertwining the fingers of his right hand into the fingers of her left, pinning it against the mattress and stopping Eden from knifing into the flesh of his chest with her nails. Not that he doesn’t enjoy getting a little banged up from her enthusiasm. It reminds him how crazy he can drive her in just a couple dozen thrusts, or less. Eden swears for a moment she can’t see anything but an array of blinking lights, that she’ll damn near pass out from the overwhelming pleasure. Pedro grunts with finality, losing balance a little, before internally drowning her with thick ropes of cum. Eden’s leg continues to tremble uncontrollably, her eyes rolling back into her skull. The sensation of Pedro’s lips upon her chin brings her back to reality. He stays buried in her cunt, gripping her right leg almost to the point of pain, clasping it by the back of her knee to keep her open, as not to lose a single drop to the sheets. He revels in his own orgasm at last. It got harder to hold off, the more she came, trying to milk him fervently.

“You get so fuckin’ tight,” Pedro breathes, trembling a final time before slowly, painstakingly pulling out. He pushes his length back in a couple more times, enjoying how wet things have become, earning a gasp from his cock drunk girlfriend.

“Holy fuck,” Pedro breathes, picking up the pace again. Eden screams, gushing and clenching around Pedro for the umpteenth time, his sperm mingling with her secretions and staining the sheet beneath them. Sensitive beyond continuation, he finally withdraws, lying on his side beside her, fingers still intertwined. It was already 93 degrees when they had stepped off of the plane to Puerto Rico a mere few hours prior. Eden finds herself beginning to feel dehydrated. Pedro grabs her hip.

“Where to next, babe? I bet I can give you more than that in Chile,” he states confidently. Eden is at a loss for words, shivering as Pedro makes this proposition directly into her ear.

“Why haven’t we been there yet?” He giggles. Eden can’t find her own legs, so Pedro carries her to the bathroom to shower. She doesn’t even hope for a time out.

[kelin-is-writing]

how would dabi react if his s/o got sick? like just a cold or a fever so nothing major but i image our poor baby would freak out 😢

- 🥛

dabi x fem!reader

he wouldn’t let it show openly, if not for the frown that makes his forehead crease and the worried gaze that only you can detect, but inside dabi is worried sick because the fever doesn’t seem to want get down despite you taking your medicines, staying warm and resting. he didn’t knew anymore what to do honestly, the sight of you in pain or unwell was genuinely hard to bear for dabi.

as he sat at your bed’s edge he took the thermometer and saw that the temperature was still at 39.7 degrees he looked at you pale; after tucking you in dabi glanced at the clock on the wall seeing that it still took some hours before you could take your medicine, so he grabbed the glass of water on your bedside table handing it to you saying that it’s better to keep yourself hydrates.

when he sees that you can’t even stand properly, dabi moves right beside you and puts an arm around your shoulder helping you slowly to raise your upper body, then he brings the glass to your lips and watches carefully as you drink it making a relieved expression afterwards as the cool beverage soothes your burning throat “you’re sweating, i think it’s better if you dry up and change your clothes.”, he advises moving the blanket and standing up so you can get off bed more easily. he holds out an hand for you to take so to help you stand without falling and starts undoing the buttons of your pajamas’ blouse, you start burning up for another reason and grab his wrists looking up at him flustered while telling the boy you can do it alone, he refuses saying that you’re to weak to even stand properly without having your legs shake like the ones of a newborn deer. so in the end not only dabi has changed you, but he also dried your body with a cool towel and finally put you to bed, demanding gently for you to take off the cold patch attached to your forehead to replace it with a new one.

after he feeds you some porridge and gave you your medicines, he changes into some spare clothes left here after his many visits and then tells you to scoot over so he can get in bed with you resting an arm onto the cushion for your to rest your head on, while his other one is around your waist to hold you closer. his eyes fixes into yours intensely and with worry shining into their depth “if there’s anything wrong or you feel any discomfort, tell me right away okay?”, you nod while looking at him mesmerized by that side of your boyfriend before snuggling against his chest as he rests his chin on top of your head and fall asleep like that.

[satashiiwrites]

Choices and Regrets: Chapter 12: Confluence

Yeeting. Beware the cliffhanger.

Title: Choices and Regrets Chapter 12: Confluence

Fandom: 911, Dark Matter (Blake Crouch/2024 tv series)

Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz/Even Buckley

Summary:

If you could go back and change the choices in your life, would you?  Would you love the same people, go on the same vacations, have the same career? Or would you have regrets? After the lightning strike, an unexpected visitor makes Buck question all the choices he’s ever made. From dropping out of the Seals to never making a move on Eddie because the time hasn’t been right. He’s going to get an up close and personal look at what could have been because another version of Buck is focused on taking his choices away from him—including Eddie and Christopher Diaz. 

Tags/warnings: dark themes, dubious consent, explicit sex, kidnapping, murder, minor character death (not our versions of the boys), drug use, identity fraud, topping from the bottom

Buck restarts from the beginning, all of them hanging on every word after he’d extracted a promise from them to let him tell his story.  Eddie doesn’t let go of Buck’s hand the entire time, providing a little squeeze whenever Buck falters or the story gets too painful.

It started the night of Conner’s party.  Buck glosses over the party itself but Eddie can read between the lines that it wasn’t a fun party for Buck to attend.  He regrets encouraging Buck to go but before Eddie can voice that thought, Buck assures him that he needed the closure.  The door to being a donor daddy is firmly closed for now and Buck has no plans to revisit it, which satisfies the primitive caveman that lives in Eddie’s chest.  

He doesn’t want Buck having babies with someone else. 

Eddie should probably talk with Buck about that feeling at some point. 

Anyways, the party ended and Buck stopped to buy the requested ice cream… only to get kidnapped, drugged, and to wake up in another universe. Buck stresses that he wasn’t aware of being taken to this other universe and it took him time to work out how to travel home. 

Buck is reluctant to talk about the people in that other universe.  He admits that when they finally believed that he wasn’t the other version of him, his brother Daniel—Daniel who is still alive in his upper thirties—had seen Buck as a possible golden ticket. Buck had escaped at some point and confirmed that it wasn’t his universe.  Athena was dead for sure as was Eddie. 

Eddie doesn’t miss how Buck’s grip tightens around his and the tremor returns when he talks about the other version of Eddie.  That Daniel had ordered an armed assault to return Buck to Aperture’s headquarters and the other version of Eddie had tried to protect Buck but died as a result. 

“I’m here,” he softly reassures Buck, urging him to take a drink of water while Athen refreshes everyone’s coffee. 

Read Chapter 12 on AO3!

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Chapter 22: Enjolras Puts Everyone to Bed

1578 words

CW: institutionalized slavery, religious themes, references to past violence

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~~~

Enjolras carried Leannan up from the fishing platform onto the aft deck of the 80’ Voyager, dubbed Survivor, and went inside. She moved through the saloon, now filled with refugees sitting on the overstuffed and faded pair of chairs and couch, past the stairwell to the upper deck, past the galley, through to the dining area, lit in cold white by solar-powered lamps. There was another couch along the back – or really, the front of the vessel. The woman Leannan had brought with him sat on one end, assisted there by another La Libera agent, and Enjolras maneuvered around the table to lay Leannan down on the other end. There was a stairwell behind the couch down to the lower deck where there were several real beds, but the stairs were too narrow and steep to safely carry someone down. The couch would do for now.

Enjolras looked at the woman. She wore a bloodstained blue dress, and hunched in a way that indicated she was in pain. Sympathy flared in Enjolras’ chest.

“I’m Enjolras. What’s your name?” she asked softly.

“Jeanette,” the woman murmured, staring into the middle distance.

Enjolras’ sympathy evaporated.

“The Councilwoman,” she hissed. She slammed a hand down on the table and pointed the other at Leannan. “Did you rape him?”

Jeanette was startled out of her reverie, and blinked at Enjolras.

“No. Absolutely not.”

Enjolras’ hackles lowered a bit.

“But I did…” Jeanette looked at Leannan, her mouth twisting with guilt, “I did hit him. Once. And I teased him terribly. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” Enjolras spun on her heel and went to the galley, fetching two glasses of water, the old pipes of the sink groaning when used but producing clean water from their reserves. She returned, handing one to Jeanette.

“Drink.”

Jeanette took the glass in shaking hands, her arms dipping when the weight was transferred to her, and drank eagerly.

Enjolras focused on Leannan; setting the second glass of water down, she knelt beside the couch and patted his cheek, speaking gently.

“Leannan? Come back to me, Leannan, come on, wake up.”

Leannan looked awful. He wore only a pair of shorts and that blasted company logo around his neck. His skin was smeared with ash and smoke, and a few smatterings of blood from DuPont’s headshot. His feet were bare and dirty, and one bled a bit at the heel. But at Enjolras’ touch and words he groaned, and lifted a hand to rub at his eye.

“Phineas?” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, Phineas isn’t here,” Enjolras reassured him, “I just need you to drink some water and then I’ll let you sleep, okay?”

She helped Leannan slowly sit up. He looked around, his eyes rimmed with red from the smoke exposure and his eyebrows pinched.

“We left Phineas behind?” he asked.

“We did,” Enjolras confirmed, “You’re safe now.”

Leannan’s face abruptly crumpled as he began to sob.

“I’m sorry!” he cried, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!”

“Hej-ej-ej, it’s okay!” Enjolras grabbed his knee and smiled up at him from where she knelt, “Everything is okay now! Leannan – do you like the name Leannan? Would you rather I called you something…”

“Yes, no, please!” Leannan interrupted her, his sobbing redoubled, “Please let me keep Leannan! Please!”

“Okay! That’s okay. No one’s going to take your name away from you, I promise.”

“I promise, I can – I can be better than this,” Leannan babbled, swiping at the tears rolling down his face, “I’m just really, really tired, I’ll be okay tomorrow, I swear, I won’t be like this!”

“Okay!” Enjolras nodded, “You’ll be better tomorrow, but can you do something for me, Leannan? Can you drink some water?” She pointed at the glass of water on the table in front of him.

Leannan nodded and picked it up; drinking the water stifled his sobs, smoothed out his breathing, and he calmed down a bit. He set the glass back down after draining half of it.

“Great job,” Enjolras praised, “Thank you for doing that. Can you stand?” She stood herself, and offered her hands for support. Leannan took them and pulled himself to his feet.

“Leannan,” she caught his gaze with her eyes, “I’m going to take you to a bedroom, but it’s only so that you can sleep, okay? No one will bother you. Do you understand?”

Leannan stared at her, tear-streaked, exhausted, and uncomprehending, but he nodded anyway. Enjolras pursed her lips, and hoped this wouldn’t go sideways.

“Okay. Follow me.”

She grabbed a solar lamp and lead the way down the compact staircase to a minuscule breezeway between two bedrooms. She went into the left one where there were two twin beds. She turned to look at Leannan, who, even in his frazzled state, was marveling at the luscious antique woodwork and cabinetry the chamber was outfitted in, curved cozily around them to match the belly of the vessel.

“There’s a toilet and a shower just in there,” Enjolras pointed out a little nook with a sliding door, and Leannan nodded numbly. She set the lamp down on the small shelf between the two beds. “I’m leaving this here for you, okay? You can leave it on if you like.”

She moved through the cramped space around him back to the door, and Leannan turned to watch.

“You’re not staying?” he asked, almost sounding disappointed.

Enjolras knew that hopeful, worried look. They’d all had it, twelve years ago.

“No, Leannan. You’re here to sleep, nothing more.”

Leannan looked at the beds, then back to her, his expression lost.

“Is Phineas going to be okay?” he whispered, “We just left them there, what if they can’t get off the island?”

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile grimly.

“Don’t worry about Phineas. They always survive.”

~~~

Leannan swayed as he stepped out of the tiny shower. He had stared at the beautiful little beds in the beautiful little room for a good several minutes after Enjolras had left, trying to decide if it was worth getting one all dirty by lying in it, ash- and smoke-stained as he was. He had finally decided to clean up, and had taken a quick but deliciously hot shower. He now searched and found towels in one of the many built-in cabinets, and once dry he stepped over his discarded shorts on the floor and crawled into one bed. It was cool enough belowdecks with only one small glass window to have let in the previous day’s heat, that he could snuggle down under the light blanket.

It didn’t feel real. The hot shower. The cloud-like mattress beneath him. His new master Enjolras’ kindness. After the horror of the fire, seeing two men’s brains, and abandoning Phineas, it didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem fair.

A deep anxiety set into Leannan. Something bad was going to happen. He lay in bed, his aching, stinging eyes refusing to close. The reverberating hum of the engines sounded like the threatening growls of a massive creature.

Something bad was going to happen.

His bone-weary limbs settled heavier into the soft bed, but his brain fought against sleep.

Something bad was going to happen.

~~~

Enjolras folded her arms, staring Jeanette down.

“What are we going to do with you?” she asked.

Jeanette stared right back, her pale blue eyes stark against their red rims and dark bags, and said nothing.

Enjolras scanned her.

“Are you injured?”

“No,” Jeanette replied.

“But you’re sick, right?” Enjolras said, “That’s what I heard from the townsfolk.”

“Yes.” Jeanette’s cold gaze didn’t break.

“Sick with what?”

“No one knows.”

Enjolras sucked in a breath and slowly sighed it out. She had to do the right thing.

“How can we help?”

Jeanette had the decency to look surprised, but she quickly composed herself.

“If you have anything for pain, I would appreciate it. I have pains, all over my body. I also have a sensitive stomach. No dairy. No meat. I can rest here,” she gestured to the couch she sat upon, “If that’s alright – if I go down those stairs, I’m never making it back up.”

Enjolras sized her up.

“You’re small enough. I could carry you. Then you could have a shower and a real bed.”

“A shower? On a boat?” Jeanette’s eyebrow went up, “Quite the luxury vessel you have here.”

Enjolras chuckled.

“La Libera has its resources.”

“So I hear.”

Jeanette’s tone was loaded, but Enjolras ignored it, moving forward.

“Can I pick you up?”

The stairs were tricky, but Enjolras made it down with Jeanette in her arms and went into the bedroom on the right. It was a very round room, nestled into the prow of the yacht, centering a medium-sized bed. Enjolras set Jeanette down on the end.

“Do you need help cleaning up?”

“I don’t…” Jeanette’s icy facade suddenly cracked as she waved a tremulous hand, “I can’t, I have to lie down, I have to lie down.”

“Okay.” Enjolras backed off as Jeanette wincingly moved further onto the bed, finally lying down with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll bring you some painkillers,” Enjolras said, turning to leave.

“Oh, thank you,” Jeanette murmured, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, “Thank you – what was your name?”

“Enjolras.”

“Thank you, Enjolras.”

When Enjolras returned with the bottle of pills, Jeanette was asleep. She tucked the bottle into Jeanette’s hand, and left.

There were fifteen others to take care of.

~~~

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Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik

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[ome-magical-ramblings]

Using Prayer of Crowns Magically.

As people can see I am slowly releasing more contents on the prayer of crowns as I go through it practicing and translating it together at once. I hope that people have read my previous blog post on it as this will be a direct translation of usage of this prayer/invocation.

Starting with the first name Basmech Dala Hamo Shaytithon / بشمخ دالا هامو شيطيثون

Whoever writes it on a cermaic dish or bowl then wash it with rose water, mix it with nromal water and then perform ablution with that water. Allah gives him great might and honor with whoever he sees, and who make his wife drink it she will not disobey him.

The Second name: Dano Malchuthu Daimonin / دانو ملخوثو ديمنون whoever writes it on a small piece of paper and throw it on running water, said "Oh God of this Book, I wrote it for you, fulfill my desire X" Allah fulfill his desire for him at the moment whatever it is. The Third name: Kaoraish Ara’shtrich Lachon / كورعش ارعيشطرخ لاخون

whoever wrote it with saffron and rose water, hanged it as a talisman/pendant on a single woman she will instantly find a partner AND marry with Will of Allah.

The Fourth name: Dahmoth Archa Archim Archimon / دهموث ارخا ارخم ارخيمون whoever wrote it on paper/papyrus with musk and saffron mixed in rose water, hanged it on himself, he's safe from all fear, worries, and the like. The Fifth name: Thiochaim Azich Arqish Dar-Alion / ثيوخيم ازيش ارقش دارعليون

Whoever wrote it on paper and tied it to his right upper arm then asked any creature or person anything they did it for him.

The Sixth name:

Haythumuu Mythuu Ahyun Minun / حيثموا ميثوا احيون منون

Whoever wrote it with musk and saffron then put it in a pendant in his hat or neckacle, Allah protected him and protected him from all other creatures. The Seventh name:

Ahia Shra-heya Adonai Asba’ot Asba’ton / أهيا شراهيا ادوناي اصباؤت اصباؤتون

whoever wrote it on the palm of their hand, read it, then said his in wish/oracle then he will sleep in full ritualistic purity then a group of Good Jinns will come to his sleep and they're the servant of this name will tell him about his matter. The Eighth name: Dihmitha Dahlilun 'iilah Metatron / دهميثا دهليلون إله ميططرون

Whoever lost anything or someone stole anything, or his slave ran away let him purify himself ritualistically and write the following name on his right thigh then sit in an empty/isolated place pray with the whole prayer and ask from Allah to bring back what's lost then seven tall men of jinn serving this name come to him and tell him what he wants.

The Ninth Name: Noor Bawariq A’reish Arghshish Lagah-shun / نور بورق ارعيش ارغشيش لغشون  Whoever writes it seven fridays consecutively and wash it into water, drank most of it, and wash it with water then drank most of it, and washed with the rest of it his face and chest Allah gave him great wealth before the end of the Haol(Lunar Year), and who wrote it on a paper and put it in the money of a merchant, the merchant gain/won a lot of money.

The Tenth Name:

Shabira Shro wa Asmaikh Ash-ba Ashba’on / شبيرا شرو اسمخ اشبا اشبونّ

Whoever wrote it and wore it as a talisman had a great strength in walk and he doesn't get tired, and if a pregnant woman wears it then her birth will be easy but he must dispose of the paper immediately after birth. The Eleventh Name:

Malkuth Malich Malch Malecha Malchun/ ملكوت مالخ ملخ مليخا مالخون Whoever write it on the palm of his right hand then shook the hand of someone else Allah made great love between them, and whoever write it on papyrus and held it between his eyes then talked with his enemies he conquered him. Whoever writes it, washed it, and gave it to someone with pain in the liver or Spleen allah cured him. The Twelfth Name:

Alam Alim Arghil Arghi Arghun Thirnun Kazanun Shamkh Shamkhithan Mishlamun / علام عالم ارغل ارغي ارغون ثرنون كزنون شمخ شمخيثا مشلامون whoever wrote it disjointed letters, washed it and drank it, or licked it and washed his forehead and face with it then went to meet a tyrant ruler then he will be subdued, treat him well, and will be given his request. Another is to be written on a tablet, washed his face with it's water for 3 days was protected from pink eye. Another wrote it with saffron on his male member afterward had intercourse with his wife then no other will be able to have intercourse with her except him. Another, Who wrote it on 3 smooth rocks, every time he writes it on a rock he throws it to the direction of the house of his enemy then Allah become extremely angered toward his enemy, throwing fear and terror into his heart leading to great win in the scribe/magician.

[hazbintales]

@helluvahotpot ⸻ Drinking starters.

❝Easy, there. Try to sit up.❞ Husk to Angel

Angel groaned as Husk knelt down beside him. He slowly looked over at Husk as he let out another groan of feeling dizzy. A couple bottles were around him as he lay on the ground of his bedroom. His door wide opened, Husk must have seen him when he was walking by or something. That was his own fault for not shutting his door after such a shitty day at work.

His body ached from another ruthless night. He pissed off Valentino and his body greatly paid for it. He just wanted to forget about the rough touches for the night, he wanted to forget about the look Valentino gave him, he wanted to forget he was addicted to Valentino’s poison for one night. So, he drank until he forgot. Until he no longer felt the sensations of other people on him, until he could no longer see Valentino’s face when he closed his eyes.

He slowly tried sitting up, wobbly and ended up falling to the side into Husk’s arms. A hand lifted to grasp his head, everything seemed to be spinning. He didn’t even remember lying on the floor. He looked up at Husk’s face, lifting his other hand to poke at Husk’s face.

❝Such a handsome kitty.❞ He said, words slurred as he spoke.

Then as if something turned in his brain, he pushed Husk away. His body scrambling off him and he crawled slightly towards his bed. His knees being brought up to his chest, eyes wide as he stared down at the ground. His four arms moving to wrap around his legs. He could feel Fat Nuggets come up to him, but he ignored the pig. His body was shaking slightly, and he whimpered from the aches it caused.

❝Don’t touch me.❞ He said, his upper arms lifting to grasp at his head. ❝Don’t touch me!❞

He rocked slightly, ignoring the pain in his body, ignoring the screams, it begged him not to move. His eyes watered up with tears. He clutched his head tightly as his eyes closed tightly, shaking his head. His lower limbs hugged his knees tight, as if that would keep everything else out. All he could think of was those hands on him, being treated like he was fresh meat. Most of the time his job didn’t affect him this badly, but it was a bad night mixed with alcohol. He didn’t want to feel used anymore. He wanted out yet he couldn’t get out. He was too addicted to all of it, even if sometimes he hated it, he would always go right back to it.

❝I’m not your doll…❞ He mumbled, burying his head in his knees. ❝I don’t want to be used again tonight, not tonight. Please, no more tonight…❞ He felt alone, so alone.

No one understood. He wanted the comfort, the warmth from another but he never got that after his sessions. He never got the proper after care and he craved it, needed it, wanted it but would never admit it.

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

~somewhat angsty NY headcanons because I love to torture him (purely out of love)~

=======================================================================

-if he gets pinned down in a fight, there is chance that he will panic, cuz it reminds him of how Britain used to pin or restrain him before beating the he// out of him.

The first time anybody found out was in a sparring match that York got into with Texas. Texas had York pinned on the ground with his arms above his head and his knee on the smaller’s chest, not knowing that York was starting to panic and have flashbacks to Britain beating the crap out of him. So ofc when York started sounding more and more desperate and panicked every time he told Texas to get tf off of him, it left the Lone Star State a bit confused. When he got off, York immediately curled up in a ball and had a pretty bad panic attack, but was on calmed down by his brothers. He also made sure to reassure Texas that he did nothing wrong.

-sometimes when York needs alone time, he will teleport to NYC and just sit at the top of a tall building and cry alone whilst listening to music, drinking whatever liquor he brought with him, and staring off into the distance

-he has some SA-related trauma from his ex-bf. His ex did some non-consensual…..things to him, and always yelled at York and hit him for the stupidest and smallest things. So umm….. of course he ain’t around anymore :)

-one of the scars he has is from a type of blade that was not for him, and that was for more magical beings like Mass and Loui. After he got stabbed, there was a lot of black stuff surrounding the wound and black bile mixed with blood coming out of his mouth. He was definitely not having a good time. So he now has a weird-wonky star-shaped looking scar on his upper stomach (and like the 9/11 scar, he also pretty insecure about it).

-he has frequent absence seizures and that often results in him not listening to another person during a conversation and them having to repeat whatever they said.

-I have now decided that he has an autism assistance dog named Nico that helps him when he’s getting too worked up and/or overstimulated, and a mobility assistance dog named Kodi that helps him with his slight balance issues. Both dogs do their jobs well, and York loves them both a lot.

-because of the pollution in his state that is traveling from the Canadian wildfires into his state, and because of the pollution that was already there, he chokes on his own air a lot, and sometimes it gets so bad that he coughs up blood

-kinda related to the hc above, York has asthma, which makes the pollution situation 10x worse

-by the time the Civil War had happened, York had seen SO much war, at such a young age, that he seemed to have became immune to it in some sense. He would just kill enemies left and right without barely batting an eye and with barely any emotion on his face, and it honestly scared the sh*t out of some of the other states and enemies.

-Soooo…..I found out that Melanie Martinez was born in New York, so I’ve now decided that he listens to her music and kinda relates to some of it (not really sad, but I just wanted to put that out there)

-school was incredibly stressful for him, despite him being really smart. It was mainly cuz’ the people he went to school with, and some of the teachers he had, were absolute *$$holes

-whenever he’s really going through it, he will push others away and completely reject any help that was offered

-because of the abuse and war he went through, he somehow gained the mindset that if he gets hurt, even if it is incredibly serious and painful, he should just get tf up and continue doing what he was doing, no matter what. This man could be spontaneously bleeding out and have a broken arm, and would still try to get up and do stuff

-he has 100% fell through ice into freezing cold water, gotten himself out, and continue doing whatever he doing even though there’s the chance that he was hurt and had possible hypothermia, and he has definitely passed the f*ck out whilst telling Mass or whoever that he was fine and didn’t need medical attention.