#he knows acupuncture

[trinasgreatrune]

i think acupuncturist illumi would be so funny, i realy would love acupuncturist illumi HES BEEN IN MY HEAD FOR DAYS

[elvenferretots]

The big moosh looks forward to monthly Needle Time.

[shipping-detritus]

For some reason Jakob thought trying to drink his own blood was a good idea

What is our deeply weird boy doing?

Squeezing the finger prick to get extra blood of course

See it's very yummy

All the while Elisabeth is in the background telling him to stop with the intonation and phrasing of someone trying to make sure their dog doesn't eat something rotten from the sidewalk.

I think, or at least i hope, that the blood drinking will be Born to Run's amateur acupuncture. by which I mean we don't get any other bad choices involving sharp objects and jakob's flesh

[aewrie]

'once a week or more' well rip

my default state of being when i'm not having a bad day is a little tired & nursing a budding headache. i have a headache right now that i'm ignoring

is this going to be another of those 'there is no such thing as a 'mild' concussion, if you hit your head bad enough to black out it is a concussion' lmao???

i get headaches from fucking everything. weather/air pressure (low and high). low/high blood sugar or too rapid changes there. too bright/dim light (at home i am specific about my lights/curtains at different points of the day/depending on how bright it's outside to avoid these). rapid repetitive/jarring physical motions (just jumping a little can be enough/make it worse). muscle tension. doing stretching/exercise that gets blood really flowing. lack of and/or bad sleep, or too much sleep. getting (strongly) emotional. caffeine (a new exiting one! only started regularly drinking coffee fairly recently. how much caffeine is too much is a fucking mystery though). i should wear glasses (myopia, not too severe) but i avoid it unless i need to see that far that well in part bc the glasses pressing on my temples give me headaches more easily than my eyes being slightly tired does.

i'm probably forgetting a bunch more

but every time i've seen people describe migraines i've thought well mine aren't anywhere near that severe/those specific kinds of headaches so No Way it's that

but. i do have other symptoms on that list? i just never thought it might be related to my headaches bc i'd not seen those mentioned, at least not in a way that i could identify as something i should consider in connection to this, and there's always the huge stress that migraines are always extra super bad to the point that a Real migraine completely disables you for a while. while to me it's. it's annoying, it hurts, if it's particularly bad it can make things more difficult but not impossible/near impossible; just, a general It's Not That Bad, therefore normal and i should just deal with it

[guangchuans]

because all my favourite characters must have the same traits as me lan wangji in my mind is gay trans depressed and experiences chronic pain. if you even care btw

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of the most memorable speeches I've ever heard was given at my beloved's graduation. They attended a pretty crunchy school natural medicine. They went for acupuncture but they also had many degrees including nutrition, naturopathic medicine, and most importantly to this story: midwifery.

The common consensus across campus was that the midwives operated on their own frequency which is a nice way to say they were usually really weird, even by the standards of a pretty alternative crowd of people. Not weird in a bad way. But weird nonetheless. They straddled the boundary between life and death and it changed them.

I had never experienced a midwife before the ceremony which is why I didn't think anything of the fact that a midwife stepped up to give the graduation speech. My friends nearby had a stir of repressed amusement and elbowing each other which did puzzle me slightly.

The speech began as a story, which I heartily approved of. The midwife related an experience in which a woman told her that during her first birth she had screamed too much and used up her energy in that instead of pushing and the midwife, to the collective masses assembled to watch a solemn ceremony, said, "I told her this time she would need to scream with her vagina."

The audience was slightly stunned by this, myself included. I scanned the crowd to see dropped jaws and wide eyes. It was such a bold statement to make in an academic setting and no one quite knew what to make of it.

The midwife continued unperturbed.

She related that many dads didn't know what to do during the birthing process and that this particular dad chose to chant over and over, "You're gonna be huge, you're gonna be huge," as his wife screamed with her vagina to birth their child. The midwife mused that she didn't know if he was talking to their child or his wife or if he even registered what he was saying in that moment.

Then the subject strayed toward how the student body had strained and striven toward this goal, this endgame that was the result of sleepless nights, hard work, and camaraderie. The speech seemed to have moved onto more solid ground and traditional graduation reminiscences. The crowd settled, thinking the worst had passed.

But as the midwife wrapped up she said, "As you go forth into the world, pushed out by this noble institution to help the masses, just remember one thing," she paused and the audience held their breath while the beat drew out before she finally whispered:

"You're gonna be huge."

There was a roar of astonished laughter as her speech neatly tied their graduation into a metaphor for being birthed unto the world and we finally understood the point of her anecdote.

The speech lives in infamy in all our collective memories. Years later my beloved's dad will still be like, "Remember that bizarre graduation speech?"

And it was. It was bizarre. But I'll say this. I've attended a lot of graduations, and I don't remember any of the speeches half so well as I do that one.

[iminlovebutimkeepinitlowkey]

Rafe with a girlfriend who has chronic migraines Part 2!

He’d give up all the money in the world for you. He doesn’t care about the hundreds of dollars he spends on expensive memory foam pillows and body pillows. Rafe swears he’s never felt such heartbreak than when you silently cried against him in complete and utter agony. He buys the $400 cefaly machine and pays for the overpriced at home acupuncture. He does yoga with you in the garden because any other form of exercise triggers a migraine instantly. He never gets upset or disappointed when you cancel plans because of a migraine.

He takes the best care of you, he knows to take you to a dark room to lay in and is immediately at your side with an ice pack and some water. He’s always got your meds on hand and snacks for you to take them with. His freezer is stocked with TheraIce headache hats in every color made. He buys the fanciest diffuser he can possibly find to make his room smell like lavender while you sleep the pain away. He gets you a stanly cup, and an owala bottle, and a hydro flask, and a yeti, just to get you to drink more water.

Hell, he even buys you an immensely overpriced lapis necklace after reading about its supposed history of healing migraines.

He constantly brags about how brave his precious girlfriend is, how strong she is. Topper broke his arm once and Rafe’s reaction was: “Ok and? Y/n has migraines everyday and still gets up and does shit, get the fuck up.”

You are his everything, his other half, his twin flame. And he will do absolutely anything to make life easier for you<3

My Masterlists!!

[lunajay33]

Migraine🕷️

Summary: You get frequent migraines but they’ve been mia since the apocalypse but even since you got to the farm they’ve returned but you didn’t wanna bother anyone until Daryl finds you balled up on the floor in pain

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Request by @avrmee

•Masterlist•

Soul crushing migranes were always a struggle to deal with before the world ended, but there was ways to try and relieve them, medicine, piercings, acupuncture but now that it’s been about a year and there was no more medicine or anything really the migraines came back and almost stronger than before

They’d come on when the heat was high and the sun was near blinding, triggering what ever it was in your head to cause crippling pain that no matter how much pressure you applied to your eyes or the amount of water you drank it didn’t matter, but in this world you couldn’t afford to take a day off especially with all the work the others were putting into the prison it was only fair you pull your weight even through the pain

Walking out of prison, opening the door to the blinding white light that was the Georgia sun stung just hoping it didn’t flair up another episode, walking out to the court yard where Daryl was tinkering on his bike you sat next to him

“I missed you this morning” you said leaning your head against his shoulder as he used a wrench against…..well you have no clue but you loved watching him work

“Sorry ya know I’m an early riser plus ya’ve been sleeping lot longer now, ya okay?”

You didn’t wanna worry him and tell him that after these long days of over exerting yourself in the heat that the pain in your head kept you awake late into the night causing you to wake up later than everyone else

“Oh yeah I’m fine, just tired is all, plus I got a beautiful sight next to me at night it’s hard to fall asleep” you laughed poking his side making him gruff out a laugh

“Well I have to go work on the crowd of walkers around the fence, if you need me I’ll be there” I said leaving his side walking down to the entrance gate, using a pole to take down as many walkers as you could working your way down the fence, working for hours when you felt an aura around your head, the groans and snaps of jaws became louder and overwhelming, your knees became weak, you became nauseous as your vision became blurred and specked with black dots, all topped off by the painful pressure in your head

Losing control you dropped to the gravel clutching your head in your hands, knees tucked up to your chest, whining from the pain, this is one of the worst it’s ever been, in the distance you could hear your name being yelled but everything was so overwhelming you couldn’t even process it until the screams got closer

“Y/n baby what’s wrong” Daryl asked holding your body close to his, your head in his lap as he rubbed your back

“It…….it hurts so much” you whined as you clutched your head more wishing for this pain to fade

He just held you for what felt like half an hour trying to comfort me, the walkers noises started to dwindle someone must have came down with Daryl to take them out, you huffed out a breath as the pain subsided a bit giving you enough strength to sit up, seeing his worried expression

“What happened?” He asked brushing my disheveled hair back

“I get this awful migraines, I didn’t wanna say anything and use it as an excuse but they keep me up at night but sometimes they get so bad, like this and I don’t know how to stop them”

“Darlin ya should have said something, we’d understand, I could’ve tried to help ya at night”

“I know how hard you work all day you need your sleep”

“But if yer feeling sick yer more important, promise me you’ll let me help ya”

You bit your lip hesitant not wanting to be a burden

“Y/n” he said sternly

“Okay I promise”

“Good, ya know yer damn stubborn”

“You love me” you said smiling

“Yer lucky I do”

[or0ch1maru]

akatsukis kinks and turn offs?

18+, full blown smut, kinks, and more smut

•

Omg omg omg, I had wayyyy too much fun writing these. Also! If anyone wants a one shot of a specific character with the kinks I’ve listed, pleaseeeeee let me know and I’d be more than happy to write it, especially for Tobi, Hidan, or Zetsu🫶🏻

I feel like Hidan has done everything at least once, and if there’s something he hasn’t done, he’s more than willing to try. This man is KINKY. I imagine his favorites are period play(or anything involving blood), s&m, fucking outside with the thrill of getting caught, knife play, and threesomes. I believe his turn off’s would be the “I don’t use safe words” thing. Hidan is intense when it comes to sex, and he won’t do it with just anybody either. He must have a safe word for his sessions and if you refuse to use one, just know you won’t be getting in his pants.

Kakuzu is similar to Hidan, has done everything at least once and isn’t close minded about trying new things. I know for a fact his tendrils would definitely come into play, whether it’s him tying you up, or toying with your clit. He’s definitely partnered up with Hidan for three ways, and just like him, also requires a safe word. I imagine Kakuzu enjoying a daddy kink as well, would lose his composure the second the word slips from your lips four orgasms in. Big into brat taming, but when it comes to turn off’s, just like with Hidan, if you have the no safe word mindset, he won’t be down.

I’ve mentioned this before but I truly believe Konan is into Shibari. Has a whole collection of ropes, of all different colors too. Mostly pastels; pinks, blue’s, and purple’s. I see her as being a passionate lover, with intense sessions time to time. Loves bringing toys into the bedroom, and her favorite to use on you would be her Hitachi. I can imagine Konan being into impact play as well, using only her hand or her paddle, likes seeing little pink marks on your ass or thighs. Would primarily be the top with you and unless she has stated it otherwise, WILL NOT be down to be topped. She needs absolute trust in her partner before allowing them access to her that way. If you try to top her during sex, it’ll turn her off.

Sessions with Pain can last relatively long, only because he loves to draw it out. Mixing pleasure with pain, but it’s never done to hurt you, wants you to experience pleasure in all aspects. I believe he’s into piercing play, also known as recreational acupuncture, or needle play. Aftercare is a very important thing to Pain, especially with the minor wounds that were inflicted during your session. I think his only turn off would be if you thought aftercare was stupid or unnecessary. Especially the times when he requires aftercare too.

Our sweet explosive loving babe. I feel like Deidara hasn’t experimented much with kinks, and the few he has tried, he wasn’t crazy about. How some people are into riding their partners fingers, you’d be riding his hand. Could cum just from watching you ride the appendage that sits between the lips on his palm. As stated in the show, Deidara isn’t into s&m. I feel like he tried it once but the thought of inflicting pain on his partner was too much for him and visa versa. Even though he loves bombs and explosions, I feel like he’s more of a gentle partner.

I can see Sasori absolutely loving when his partner sits on his face. Is the type to get upset if you don’t sit your entire body weight down on him, would grab hold of your thighs, pulling you down onto him and holding you there. Loves looking up and seeing your eyes rolled back, tears streaming down your face as you continuously cum on his tongue. Bonus points if you end up squirting. Apart from that, I can imagine him using his chakra threads on you, whether it’s holding you still when you start to squirm, or when you start faltering when riding his cock, his threads would help keep you balanced. I don’t think he’s be into food play. Since Sasori doesn’t need to eat like others do, he sees no use for it, in or outside of the bedroom.

Breeding kink, I repeat, BREEDING KINK. With Uchiha’s, they form deep bonds, and love the hardest. So naturally, that would be reflected during sex. Itachi loves filling you up, and then watching as you go about your business throughout the compound full of him. I think he also enjoys when you ride his thighs. If he’s busy working on something at his desk, best believe one hand will be holding your lower back, helping you keep your rhythm. I personally think Itachi’s turn off would be Dacryphilia. Only because he doesn’t like seeing you cry. He strives for his partner’s happiness.

Just like Hidan, I feel like Kisa enjoys period sex. Has a container under his bed full of towels specifically for that time of the month. Apart from that, I imagine he likes choking, Dacryphilia, and rough sex in general. Loves seeing the scratches you leave on his back or the bite marks left on him. When he has you in doggy or bent over any hard surface, best believe his large hand will have a fistful of your hair. Now for turn offs, I don’t think he’d do anything risky where he could get caught. Just like a lot of his comrades, he’s protective over his partner and doesn’t want anyone seeing what’s his. Especially in such a vulnerable state.

Now, you can get either Tobi, or Obito, it truly depends on his mood, or situation. Our sweet gentle Tobi loves seeing his partner in cute little outfits, especially a maid outfit. I see Tobi as more of a sub honestly and if he acts out, and you want to punish him for it, his all time favorite is edging. If you happen to act like a brat, just know Obito won’t hesitate to grip you by the hair and walk you back to your shared room. Rough sex, double penetration, and surprisingly exhibitionism. As long as others don’t see his face/scarring, he will fuck you senseless in front of others/doesn’t care if someone walks in during. Will even hold a conversation with said person while he fucks you. Even when alone, loves fingering you with his gloves on. Tobi wouldn’t want to see you cry, just like Itachi, he doesn’t like seeing his partner upset. With Obito, I don’t think he’d like sensory deprivation. Doesn’t enjoy having any of his senses taken away, wants to be able to hear, and see every reaction he pulls from you.

Just like Tobi, you can get either Black or white Zetsu. All depends on their mood & said situation. White Zetsu loves nothing more than praising you, especially when his cock is buried deep in your throat, with tears threatening to fall, black Zetsu is all for degrading you. Will mush your face into a wall, a desk, the mattress, and take you from behind, whispering dirty words as you take him fully. I also fully believe Zetsu is into having sex outside, and orgasm control/denial. Enjoys hearing you beg to cum, bucking your hips into him or the toy just to get yourself off when you can’t take it. As well as quickie’s. Won’t hesitate to pull you into a bathroom and fuck you silly before walking about like he didn’t do anything. I think his only turn off would be being bitten. For some reason I imagine Zetsu being really sensitive and doesn’t like the blunt pain one can inflict by digging their teeth into him.

•

[zilabee]

Tony Bramwell, on Yoko

- gradually, inch by inch she intruded into our lives

- It was hardly surprising that John felt some kind of electricity; but it was probably the air crackling with Yoko’s desperation

- If I were standing about with him, Yoko would come up to me and say something in her high little girl’s voice, perhaps hoping to get John to notice her [...]. John would walk off to talk to someone else, while she stared after him. In those days, Yoko was always staring after John.

- She wanted to possess John and she was the one who was exceptionally jealous. She could not cope with the fact that John could love three other guys.

- her piece de resistance, the much-reprised performance of “Cut Piece.”  The scissors were wired for sound, so every cut had a horrific, almost animal sound, like a beast crunching into its human prey.

- did Yoko do her hypnotism thing, as some of John’s friends thought she had, or did she have a powerful new drug in her arsenal? Nobody really believed that John fell in love overnight, because why hadn’t he done so before? He’d been kicking Yoko in and out of his life for over a year. Mostly, he had given the impression that he resented and despised her. [...] Perhaps it was that he really was mentally ill and like many schizoid personalities, got religious mania.

- Overnight, he no longer had a will of his own.

- ...an attempt to use Primal Scream Therapy under Arthur Janov by telephone, to free him from his heroin addiction...

- Sir Joe said he didn’t think the pictures were obscene, he had seen much worse, an opinion which confused John and Yoko. They wanted to be seen as avant-garde and enfants terribles.

- Yoko had no sense of humour at all and she loathed Phil as much as Phil hated her. Each of them was implacable and paranoid.

- I used to dread taking John and Yoko’s arty stuff into radio stations and asking them to play it. For me, it was a bad experience because it was unplayable and unlistenable. [...] The reaction was a bored, “Why are you bringing this crap to us?” At first I argued with radio producers about it, though not on a very artistic level. I even heard myself saying, “Because he pays my wages. That’s why!” It was so embarrassing.

- As far as Yoko was concerned, if you spout all this magical, healing, antiwar, be kind to everybody, all-seeing, all-caring, all-macrobiotic stuff, being pregnant on heroin would seem to be the last thing she would need. And how does all that stuff equate with shooting up smack? How does all that spiritual pontificating gel with the teaspoon and the needle, unless you’re a fraud?

- According to John, Yoko snorted [heroin], but I had no doubt that if she had used a needle, she would probably have said it was acupuncture.

- John used to like life. He used to like to get on a roll. Laugh, eat and drink. [...] proper breakfasts, an old-fashioned fry-up, pie and chips, fish and chips, fried chicken, a roast dinner on a Sunday, Chinese food, curry, spaghetti Bolognese. Everything. Then he met Yoko, grew his beard, and [...] from Irish navvy’s food, he went to heroin and macrobiotics. I think if Yoko had said it was spiritual to snort bean curd instead of eat it John would have done it.

- She and John used to whisper away in their corner, with a completely different, us-against-the-world perspective to everyone. I know they did, because filming quietly on the sidelines, I heard.

- Having discussed life and its ins and outs and meanings, and worked out that it all means nothing, John and Yoko didn’t want to, couldn’t possibly, give the edifice of the Beatles any credit, or indeed any respect.

- doubt set in because some critics and reviewers gave her favourable reviews in the press and on TV. You’d find yourself wondering if you were an intellectual failure, unable to spot the hidden value in Yoko’s art and music. [...] somehow it became important to judge Yoko as impartially as possible, mostly out of regard for John. The problem was we couldn’t accept that he could be so blinded.

- [Dan Richter] was a close confidant of [Yoko and Tony Cox]. He said he heard all their hopes and schemes to hook John, at first as a financial “angel,” then, with dawning excitement, as a lover.

- According to Dan, Tony Cox actively encouraged the affair between John and Yoko as a means of survival. He said that Cox would tell Yoko to “go get Lennon.” When John proved elusive, as he was at first, Cox told Yoko she wasn’t trying hard enough. For her part, when she saw how close she was to capturing their prey, Yoko told Dan that they’d soon be rich beyond their wildest dreams.

- Cox began to feel fragile, thinking he might get cut out. In all seriousness, he drew up an agreement that he insisted Yoko sign. This single-page document—which was drawn up and signed at Dan’s kitchen table—stated that when Yoko hooked John, they would split any cash she got from the endeavour.

[deadsetobsessions]

I am waiting for my terrible decisions to come feast upon my corpse (I had four slices of mozzarella cheese and I am wildly lactose intolerant) so tall can have this thing I wrote while my bowels attempted to curdle up and wither.

——

Jason laid face down on the floor of his safe house, cheek miserably smushed to the carpet as his joints screamed in growing agony.

“Oh, shit, you good, little wing?”

Jason groaned, not even having enough energy to flip his face to the other side as a pair of boots came into view. Dick.

“Jason, are you okay? Where’s the wound?”

“C’mon Todd, even Timothy knows the importance of addressing open wounds.” Shit, the brat was here too.

“You coming down with something?” Tim’s voice asked from his other side.

Great, Jason grumbled, the whole idiot platoon is here.

A warm hand shook his shoulder, Dick’s concerned mug showing up in Jason’s- huh, when did it get this blurry?- sight. His face scrunched up in worry.

“You look stupid.” Jason said, though it sounded more like ‘yew loo stew pud’ with his face still smushed onto the ground. Reluctantly, he added, “No wound.”

“Tim, help me out.”

Jason groaned when the world spun as Tim and Dick hefted him up.

“What’s happening, Jason? Talk to us.” Tim said sharply, knowing that the tone would get Jason to respond.

“Growing pains.” Jason mumbled. “Laz pits side effects.”

“I see,” Damian suddenly said, and suddenly Jason was so much more grateful for his presence. The demon brat understood. “Richard, Drake, get him to bed. I will retrieve the ice.”

It probably spoke levels of how bad he looked that Jason’s brothers didn’t bother to even comment on the brat’s orders. Jason was lugged to his bed and tucked in.

“Sorry,” he mumbled at Dick.

“For what?” Dick patted him on the head as Tim went to get a glass of water and the painkillers he stored in the bathroom mirror cabinet.

“I’m heavy. You have old man knees.”

Divk gasped, mock offended. “Excuse me?! I’m not old! You’re fine if you’re talking shit, Jay.”

“Feels like shit…” Jay paused. “Not as shit as your gray hairs.”

“Tim! Jason’s bullying me!”

“Gray is a good color on you, I think,” Tim said, walking back in with water and meds. They helped Jason drink the meds as Dick alternated between whining about not being old and indignantly sayin ‘respect your elders, you brats!’

“Here.” Damian walked in with both bags of peas and actual ice packs. “It should be better after you have rested, but if you don’t, mother knows an acupuncture treatment that would help.”

Jason shivered as they applied the ice packs.

“Ugh, fuck off.”

“Just sleep, you raging asshole.” Tim said, sweeping a blanket onto the crime lord. “Oracle’s got Steph covering your routes until you’re better.”

Somehow, surrounded by his brothers, Jason finally found the energy to fondly flip them the bird and fall asleep.

[catscidr]

cw: emetophobia. mentionned panic attack and intercourse. fluff. hurt/comfort. f!reader. not proofread

“Suguru, can you heat up my microwavable pad?”

“Sugu, can you get me some hair clips?”

“Sugu, can I have water?”

You thought you had it under control; being no stranger to bouts of panic and random waves of nausea, you’ve mastered the art of taking deep breaths and reassuring yourself that the nauseous feeling will eventually pass.

But, as strong as you are, everyone has moments of weakness.

After finally deciding to bite the bullet, you were able to contact a doctor to get a prescription for birth control. From painful period cramps to not wanting to have sex with a condom every time you and Suguru got under the sheets, it felt like the next step to take for your health. You wanted your birth control to help alleviate the cramps that left you bedridden for days and wanted to be able to be intimate with your boyfriend without the stress of possible pregnancy.

All things considered, it’s not like you were completely unaware of the possible side effects of birth control—the infamous pamphlet that could serve as a blanket is pretty hard to miss when you first unbox your prescription.

You’ve spoken to your girlfriends about how nervous you were to start birth control, and they were all as understanding and sweet as one would expect.

After a short pep talk with yourself and your bathroom mirror, you put the patch on your arm and were officially part of the twinkie crew, formerly a toaster strudel.

…in a couple of days. Your doctor informed you to avoid having intercourse without protection for at least five days to let your body acclimate itself to the hormones flowing through you thanks to the patch on your arm.

So now, instead of having a productive afternoon, you’re sat on the cold wooden floor of your bedroom with an empty bucket across of you alongside a cardboard box you meant to throw out that now serves as a makeshift table.

“Here you are, darling.” Suguru places the glass of water on your ‘table’, silently watching how you’re holding up. His gaze lingers on the small patch on your arm, anger boiling in his gut because how dare this piece of rubber hurt my girlfriend like this, but he holds off on removing your source of pain directly knowing that it'd do more harm than good. “How do you feel now?”

You can sense his eyes on you, but you feel so ashamed of yourself for being so panicky over vomiting that you refuse to sit up from your position, all hunched over your plastic emotional support bucket. “Still gross. M’ face feels... tingly.”

He crouches beside you, gently rubbing your back to soothe you. “Do you need me to get you anything else?”

You shake your head after a second of thought, busy focusing on your self-acupuncture massage on the insides of your wrists to think of whatever else could aid your discomfort.

Observing you, Suguru sighs lightly. He sits down on the ground properly and takes ahold of one of your arms himself to replace your thumb with his. Rubbing gentle but firm circles into your tendon, he applies light pressure, and watches your brows furrow in discomfort then relax ever so slightly.

“Focus on calming your heart rate, baby. Can you do that for me? Deep breaths,” he hums softly. Nodding weakly, you try to inhale slowly but a wave of nausea hits you. Your forehead bonks the edge of the bucket and you begin to—almost—hyperventilate.

Your face feels hot, you feel pressure building up your throat and you're shaking like a leaf. “Don’t look at me,” you whimper, weakly pushing Suguru’s face to look off to the side. He ignores your plea and brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face, gently tucking it behind your ear.

“You’re okay,” he muses. “This’ll pass like it always has. The nausea you feel isn’t any different from other times you’ve felt like throwing up; you always ended up fine.“ Suguru stops massaging your arm and places his hand on your cheek. You lean into him, feeling a wave of comfort come from your chest as you keen at the cold touch of his palm.

The corners of his lips curl upward. “Can you swallow?” he asks, bending down to take a proper look at your face.

You try, straightening your back and taking a deep breath before swallowing your saliva. Suguru hums, whispering a quiet good, relieved that you're able to cooperate.

“You know, my mom used to tell me that, if I ever felt nauseous, I should try swallowing. If I was physically able to swallow, then I would be fine.” He rubs his thumb over the apples of your cheek gently, watching your eyes crack open. “There’s my girl,” he hums with a smile.

Nuzzling into his palm, you groan quietly. "Don't look at me, I look gross," you huff. Through the anxiety and nausea, your heart swells at how attentive and patient Suguru is.

The sound of the television in the living room sounds distant from your little bubble with Suguru, lost in whatever trance he held you in. "You're okay," he reassures. "How do you feel now?"

Swallowing once again, you take a deep breath and adjust the heated pad on your abdomen. You take a minute to feel, repeating Suguru's comforting words in your groggy mind.

"I feel... decent," you murmur. "Better."

His shoulders visibly lose tension as he smiles, and he leans forward to press a soft but lingering kiss to your forehead.

"That's what I like to hear. Can you stand?"

Part of you wants to shake your head, to stay sat on the ground and wallow in your despair because Gods your legs felt so numb, but you'd much rather be in Suguru's company than to be left alone with your own thoughts.

You nod, and ever the gentleman, your boyfriend loops your arm around his shoulder to help you stand up. Though your legs are wobbly, he keeps you upright, guiding you to the living room couch.

"Pick out something to watch," he says. "I'll be back with some crackers and your bucket, just in case. Any special requests?"

Leaning back into the cushions, you shake your head as you sigh, content. "No. Jus' need you with me," you hum.

As Suguru flashes you an award winning smile, he eases your worries with the same smooth voice that greets your eardrums every day. "I'll always stay with you, princess."

And you shut your eyes, comforted with the knowledge that, no matter how gross you may feel or how sickly you may be, Suguru won't ever leave your side.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Thank you so much @yandere-paramour for commissioning me.

Commission description: It's your first period living with Yves and you're kinda avoiding him in his own house because you're in pain and nauseous and you think he's gonna think you're gross because he's a boy. And it's a bad period, like you won't eat anything and there's a lot of blood and all you can do is lie in bed and be in pain. But eventually you allow Yves to give you a bath and take care of you.

Tw: afab anatomy, period,

(btw I did an ask about period and Yves before this)

(1308 words)

"Dear?"

Laying in a fetal position on your bed and buried under your sheets, you could barely hear Yves's muffled voice calling for you from outside your room. Although you've been dating Yves for a while now, even moving in with him earlier this month, you're uncomfortable with sharing a bedroom with him. So, he allows you to sleep in the guest room until you're ready to sleep in the same bed as your boyfriend.

You felt the world around you spin, spin, spin until you couldn't tell if your feet were facing the end of your bed or the headboard. Unlike your unfortunately soiled sheets and your pants, you were green in the face with nausea.

A couple of knocks reached your ears. "I'm coming in."

Well, that's fair. You have sent him away multiple times today, turned down every meal and refused to open your door in fear of him discovering such a shameful secret: you menstruate every month.

It wasn't a secret to him, though. Before even moving in, he had already told you where he kept his menstrual pads, making you ask him why he owns such things when he is biologically a male. Yves merely replied he had prepared them for you.

He doesn't hold tampons, as he actively discourages you from using them. Yves said it has a higher chance of you going into toxic shock. However, you shied away from the conversation before it could get too detailed, what does he know? He never had to deal with horrible mood swings, severe cramps or bleeding orifices ever in his life, or does he?

Either way, you think that it's embarrassing to be this vulnerable to him. But you're too weak and battered by your own body to keep him out. You just remembered that you had forgotten to lock the door too.

A tall shadow cast upon your cocooned self as Yves towered over you. He sat by the edge of your bed, elegantly crossing his slender legs as he brought a cool hand up to the side of your face. Yves caressed you, massaging your temple. He said nothing and neither did you.

He is sitting quite near to your bloodied stain, but Yves is yet to glance at it. This made your face heat up in humiliation. You squeezed your eyes shut and hid under your comforter again, wanting nothing but to disappear at the moment. You wanted the nausea to end, you wanted the headache to end, you wanted--

You opened your eyes when you suddenly felt the strong urge to vomit all over the floor dramatically lessened. Likewise, with your throbbing headache, there is still a dull pain, but it was such a tremendous improvement compared to a few minutes ago. What changed?

Since the pain has been lifted and you can think much clearly now, you realized Yves is applying a considerable amount of pressure against two specific spots using his thumbs; your right temple and your inner wrist.

You looked up at him and asked him what he did.

"These are acupuncture points to alleviate migraines and nausea." He replied, slowly removing his fingers away from you. They returned to his lap, where they're folded neatly, he's sporting a neutral look on his face. Perhaps you could detect a bit of disappointment and upset in those stunning emerald eyes.

You thanked him, but told him to please leave you alone. Fully expecting him to get up and leave, you flopped back down onto your bed.

However, your headache and sickness began to return. Thinking you could do the acupuncture massage yourself, you dug your finger nails into the areas where you thought he touched. It didn't work and it began flooding back to a maddening degree.

Groaning and whimpering, you desperately tried to make them stop but to no avail. Only when Yves had his hands on you again did it calm down.

He gave you a minute to recuperate before talking.

"You haven't eaten all day." He commented, releasing his hold on you. "You're avoiding me." Yves was aloof, although his last sentence was an observation, you had a strong suspicion that he's actually demanding to know why. He has yet to notice the massive, scarlet stain next to him. Maybe you should tell him, at least he wouldn't get himself dirty.

You meekly pointed out that your blood is seeping through the white sheets.

"Of course, it is. You haven't been to the bathroom for hours." His voice was quiet, but it took on a more scolding tone. Yves didn't care to spare a glance at the growing patch.

"You wouldn't let me take care of you." Yves continued, now sounding more sorrowful.

You became defensive, saying that Yves is going to find you gross. Going on an embarrassment-fueled tangent about how it's horrible to have to go through this every month and he probably wouldn't understand. Yves cut you off by firmly calling your name.

"You are describing a version of me that only exists in your mind." He stared straight into your soul unblinkingly.

You let his words sink in, realizing that you're projecting onto Yves and being an ass. You remembered that he was open to discussing how he could provide the best possible care for you when you're on your period, mentioning that he would gladly hand wash any delicate article of bloodied clothing if he has to. It was you who steered clear away from the topic because it was too awkward for you to bear. But it never was for Yves, it came so naturally to him.

He reminded you of your period cycle, he prepared the hot water bottle that's been sitting on your nightstand stand, he prepared a fresh change of underwear with the pad perfectly placed on it but you shooed him away before you could accept them.

Hell, he even offered to escort you to the bathroom and help you freshen yourself up as if you're paralyzed from the neck down. Obviously you declined and may have lashed out at him for that.

And so, you apologized. With tears in your eyes as your hormones run rampant. You said you're ashamed and unsure what to do.

Yves interrupted your pity fest with a tight hug that lasted for a good while, allowing you to wordlessly sob against his shoulder.

"You shouldn't be ashamed. It is a natural bodily process that billions have to go through on a regular basis." He whispered, stroking your hair as you continued letting your emotions out. "You shouldn't be ashamed to receive my help either. I enjoy taking care of the one I love, very much."

Yves gave you a kiss on the forehead. He wiped your tears away with his thumbs and watched you with softened eyes.

Through your hiccups, you told Yves that your blood is ruining his clothes. You wondered if this is an abnormal amount of viscera to be expelling.

"Then, shall I run the bath for you? It will help with your pain as well." He asked, you're amazed at how gentle he would always be with you.

You nodded, making him smile in satisfaction.

"Good. Stay here, you are not in a condition to move on your own."

You nodded once more, he kissed you on the cheek in gratitude before standing up. You felt guilt pang through your heart when you saw that his clothes are already egregiously stained with red from you.

It's such a shame that you're still too disoriented to realize that this is one of the rare times when he would wear white.

Only if you didn't cover the blanket over your head, you would have seen a glimpse of Yves toggling a remote controller. Switching off his specialized, hidden speakers.

Maybe that was why this was the most nauseating and painful cycle.

[least-carpet]

'replacing jc in someone's affection' I am crying! wwx doesn't do it once but twice! It's fascinating! Also, this makes me understand why some people, reading the novel, come to the conclusion that wwx doesn't care anymore about jc. Yeah, it's a valid interpretation!

Listen, I just rotated, and rotated, and rotated this scenario (—because, like, both child and adult Wei Wuxian are sincerely in need of support and affection, but I think receiving it as a child while it was withheld from someone he loved, what might have seemed like taking it away from someone who also needed it, also contributed to his boundary problems and self-sacrificial tendencies and eventual resentment—like he needs it but it hurts someone he loves deeply when he gets it but he still needs it, how can he reconcile these conflicting truths?? OK I will stop now—) and, uh, have a tiny little sketch of that zhanchengxian fic concept below, with which I will exorcise my sad past chengxian/past zhancheng/current wangxian thoughts.

It was going to be a perfect triple triple drabble but I needed 80 more words in the centre section to describe Jiang Cheng's tears. You know how it is.

Pursued by Lesser Ghosts

At first he was busy and grateful for it.

Then, Jin Ling settled, elders cowed, sect in order, Jiang Cheng was forced to returned to Lotus Pier. Empty, now.

His sect ran as it always did. He slept poorly. He dreamed often. He walked up and down the pier at night, pursued by lesser ghosts, echoes of people who were alive, just gone. His own life closed around him as tight as any noose, one long merciless sequence of work, sleep, work.

He had a minor qi deviation.

“Go back to dual cultivation,” said the doctor.

“That’s no longer possible,” he said.

The doctor looked up. When Jiang Cheng didn’t say anything else, she said, “Well. Come here for acupuncture once a week. Consider visiting Jin Ling.”

Relax, she didn’t bother to say.

Jiang Ping, his one surviving cousin, took tea with him, and said: “I know things have been stressful. Perhaps you would consider marriage now?”

“I didn’t think marriage was relaxing,” said Jiang Cheng, drily.

“It can be. After everything, well… it’s nice to have someone there.” Jiang Ping looked up, thinking. “Having someone there and working a lot. I don’t think it’s possible for Sect Leader to work harder, so you’ll have to try the other thing.”

Jiang Cheng let out a snort despite himself. Jiang Ping grinned at him.

He could get married, he supposed. What was there to prevent him?

He didn’t call for a matchmaker. He worked harder, kept himself so busy he could hardly think, but at night, laying in his bed, he ached with loneliness before sleep. And in sleep, he saw them, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian both, invariably walking away from him, hand in hand.

Sometimes he was silent; sometimes he called to them. It didn’t matter. They never turned around.

-

In Wei Wuxian’s dream, it was high summer, air as thick as syrup, and he was lying under the trees along the riverbank with his head in Jiang Cheng’s lap.

Above him, Jiang Cheng was eating tanghulu. Playfully, Wei Wuxian opened his mouth like a baby bird, and Jiang Cheng, rolling his eyes, took a piece of fruit and fed it to him, red and almost glowing. His index finger brushed against Wei Wuxian’s mouth.

Sometimes, he dreamed and he didn’t know whether it was just a dream or a fragment of a memory. He thought this might have happened—he faintly remembered begging Jiang Cheng to let him rest his head in his lap, across his narrow, muscled thighs.

Suddenly it was night, and Jiang Cheng was gone.

“Jiang Cheng?” called Wei Wuxian, and found his voice was a child’s voice, high-pitched and nervous. “Jiang Cheng?”

He rushed through Lotus Pier, now dark and empty, towards Jiang Cheng’s room. Then, in the way of dreams, Jiang Cheng was in front of him, a child again, too, face swollen with tears as he wept alone on the pier.

Wei Wuxian froze, panicked.

Someone picked him up; Uncle Jiang had appeared. But instead of saying anything, he turned and walked away. “Uncle Jiang,” Wei Wuxian whispered, but Jiang Fengmian didn’t respond.

All Wei Wuxian could do was look over Uncle Jiang’s shoulder at Jiang Cheng, at his crumpled, sobbing face. You don’t understand, he thought, suddenly, I love you but I need this, I need it, I need it.

That face changed again, blurred into Jiang Cheng's adult face, still weeping as he knelt on the pier. And then the strong arms around him weren’t Uncle Jiang’s but Lan Zhan’s, holding him tight in a bridal carry, taking him away as he squirmed to look back, to not look away from Jiang Cheng’s face, they had been so happy only a moment ago—

Wei Wuxian woke late, his face wet. Went to look for a handkerchief. Opened a drawer he hadn’t looked in before to find: two purple hair ribbons. An open jar of salve, carved with the insignia of a well-known Yunmeng herbalist. And a lavender handkerchief, embroidered with a little frog. Wei Wuxian traced it gently with his thumb.

-

The day was a little crisp, but bright and beautiful. Lan Wangji had risen at the appointed time, eaten breakfast serenely with the sect, and taught some advanced guqin lessons. Lan Sizhui was coming along beautifully, playing more delicate and precise every day, a delight to teach.

Everything was just as it should be in the Cloud Recesses, but Lan Wangji was still somehow uneasy.

He had gained everything he had dreamed of as a teenager, in one bewildering fell swoop. His life had been overturned, but for the better, the man he had wanted for so long delivered to him on a silver platter. He was unbelievably lucky.

Of course, he grieved what had happened to his brother. Lan Xichen deserved only good things. It was bitter to find out someone you had loved so deeply had deceived you—had failed you—had abandoned you.

But with the exception of that dark spot, the suffering and absence of his brother, his life was everything he had ever asked for, wasn’t it? A pristine life, on the surface.

If there was a dark shadow underneath, the ripple of something passing through a lake on a sunny day—something slipping out of an incautious hand, lost to the water—that too was life, wasn’t it?

He had never been so happy in his life. He had never before been so happy in his life, as he had once imagined it.

He averted his eyes from that shadow.

Until, one day, he returned home, and found Wei Ying, sitting at the room’s low table, holding a handkerchief in one hand. Remnants of a different life that had collected in his home. No—that he had kept. Gripped tightly.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, brightly, face stretched in a brittle smile. “What’s this?”

[actualbird]

apropos of nothing, but i suddenly remembered this baffling encounter i had with acupuncture back when i was in college. my mom got acupuncture and it helped her quit smoking (which, yay! whatever works, works!) and then she made me go to try to see if it'd cure a neurological condition i have (which uh, im neither here nor there over alternative medicine and whatnot but in her defense, i had had countless inconclusive diagnostic tests abt this condition so she was very much grasping at straws here for anything that would help me) and since im a good boy who follows what his mother says, i said "okay" and it was a pretty alright experience. i was and am currently still not very squeamish with needles so it didnt bother me very much. if anything, i just took the weekly acupuncture sessions as an hour to nap (with needles in me). but then one day, one of the needles (that went into my abdomen) had a....thingy at the end of it. it looked like a large-ish cork thingy balancing atop of the needle. and i was like "huh, what is that?" but i didnt say it out loud because of my debilitating anxiety and worry and i didnt wanna come off as the weird guy who asks too many questions at the acupuncturist. so i didnt ask. and the acupuncture guy thusly did not explain.

then he set the thingy on fire. and then he left the room.

i dont know about you, but in general i was taught that fires should not be left unattended. that goes for normal fires, but this was a fire lit perilously at the end of a needle sticking out of my abdomen. i guess i was the person attending to the fire, but like, i couldnt move. because of needles in me. it was a harrowing hour. i could not nap. there was an on fire thingy connected to my body. i spent a whole hour laying down alone with my thoughts and also with a small on fire thingy as company.

theres no moral to this story, it's just one of those things that made me go "hey what was that all about" but i never asked because i dont wanna be the weird guy whos not cool with fire needles

[literary-motif]

andrew nsfw pls :>

Migraine (NSFW)

Andrew Marston x Reader

Andrew knows an unconventional way to help you with your migraine.

The pressure in your forehead makes it nearly impossible to focus on the words in front of you. The page is blurry, the black ink morphing together until it is nothing but an indecipherable mass of something vaguely resembling letters. You pause, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance and downing another glass of water. Migraine auras are a new experience, one that you do not like at all.

Despite the headache you had woken up with, you did not dare take a day off when the amount of manuscripts on your desk had made you feel on edge for a few days now. You couldn't afford to take a break, could not risk falling further behind than you already were. The thought alone was enough to make you sit down at the desk, pain be damned. The stress of being behind schedule was so much worse anyway.

Pushing through it with a few extra drinks of water and curtains half-closed had not been a good idea.

The mediocre headache keeps getting worse, pain making it hard to think clearly. With the letters swimming in your vision, it is impossible to get any work done, and the sheer annoyance you feel at being unable to complete your work makes you want to scream in frustration.

There is nothing left to do but wait, find some relief from it, and perhaps you could get back to work in a few hours. If you managed to get rid of the migraine, that is.

Water, contrary to popular belief, does not fix everything. Acupuncture did not work for you, and stretching left you dizzy.

You massage the muscles in your neck, stiff from being hunched over your desk all day. A hot shower would be perfect to sooth your aching muscles and get rid of the tension, but the prospect of getting up and going through the motions feels like it costs an overwhelming amount of energy, so you stay put.

“Darling, I found that tea you liked at the store!” 

Andrew’s call makes you hiss, burying your face in your hands as a sharp stab of pain shoots through your head. The reply to his happy exclamation dies on your tongue as you squeeze your eyes shut and just breathe through it.

“Darling?” Andrew knocks softly against the half-open door, hesitating at your silence. “What is it?” he asks in light voice.

“I’m fine,” you whisper in response, raising your head but keeping your eyes shut. You reach out your hand, finding his immediately to give it a reassuring squeeze. “Could you draw the curtains properly, please?”

The chaste kiss against your skin is all the answer you get as Andrew moves to darken the room. You sigh in relief, blinking your eyes open slowly. 

Light is still faintly streaming in from the open door, and the curtains do not block out the rays of shining sun entirely, but the gentle darkness makes you feel tenfold more comfortable already.

“Headache?” Andrew asks, standing beside you to offer his hand to you. Taking it, you allow him to guide you towards the bed. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?” 

His whispers of concern, while not unusual, still cause warmth to spread across your chest, and a small smile appears on your face at the evidence of his infinite care and love for you.

“Fine,” you murmur, sinking into the mattress and rolling over to lie on your back, patting the space beside you in silent invitation.

Andrew hesitates, and you can clearly see the gears turning in his head, his beautiful mind trying to come up with ideas to help you, ways to ease your discomfort.

“Just stay here with me,” you say, "that's all I need, honestly. If you're not busy, that is."

He huffs, lying down beside you and opening his arms for you to nuzzle against his chest. "I'm never busy when you need me, darling," he assures you, his hand tenderly running through your hair and massaging your scalp. "Is this alright?"

You hum, melting under his touch. Although it does not help to lessen the pain, the care Andrew pours into his caresses is soothing, making you drift in his arms.

After a while Andrew sighs, pressing feather-light kisses against your forehead. "Has it improved at all?”

“No,” you answer honestly. 

Andrew pauses in contemplation again. “You know,” he begins, “I read somewhere that, well— just in case you’re up for it, of course" — Andrew hesitates — "I read that orgasms can be a relief for headaches. If— if you would like to try it out, I could assist you."

You chuckle at his nervousness, wincing in pain a moment later. "Where did you read that?" you ask exhausted, not oppose to giving it a try.

“I looked into how to treat headaches since you get them so often,” Andrew explains casually as if his words don't make your hear swell with appreciation, nearly bringing tears to your eyes from how much he cares. “I want to help. Last time, you did not want a massage, so I thought an orgasm might be the next best thing to relax you, but it is just a suggestion, as I said. The decision is yours, of course. There is no pressure, darling. We could try a heating pad instead?”

You smile, brushing your hand across his cheek before resting it against the back of his head and pulling him in for a kiss. Nobody has ever made you feel so loved.

He sighs in contentment at the feeling of your lips on his, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

"I like your first suggestion better," you say, unhurriedly returning to meeting Andrew's soft lips. "But only if you'd like to. I don't want you to feel obligated just because you want to help me."

"I would love to, darling," Andrew murmurs, shifting to disentangle himself from your embrace. "Taking care of you is never a chore. You know I love doing it."

His palms caress your hips, roaming over your thighs before his fingers work to undo your pants. You shrug out of them with his help, releasing a small moan in anticipation.

Andrew rolls to the side of the bed and pulls out a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer. He positions himself between your spread legs, resting his fingers on the hem of your undergarments for a moment, silently asking for permission to remove them.

“Go ahead,” you whisper, closing your eyes and allowing your body to relax, knowing Andrew will take care of you. With a kiss against the inside of your thigh, he pulls them down, exposing you to him. 

It does not take him nearly as long as usual to push his fingers inside you. “It’s the orgasm that helps,” he murmurs, softly kissing your stomach as he picks up the pace. “I don’t want you to suffer if I can prevent it.”

Normally, he would have you begging to be fucked before he even unbuttoned your pants, endlessly teasing you because he knew how much you loved it when he took his time , caressing every inch of you and showering you with kisses as you saw the overflowing adoration in his eyes when he glanced up from between your legs.

You chuckle at his sweetness, thankful that he does not feel the need to tease you too much today. The rhythm of his fingers is gentle, working you open and brushing against spots that have quiet moans tumbling from your lips.

“You feel so good,” you whisper in a near whine, arching your back. Through half-lidded eyes, you can see Andrew's sly smile. The pleasure twisting in your core choked back any witty remark. His fingers curl a bit more, making your breath hitch.

"Right here, darling?" he asks, noticing your squirming. You whine, immediately regretting it as stabbing pain shoots through your head again, making you groan instead. His teasing tone fades into one of soothing sincerity, "Relax, I've got you." Andrew slows down, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“I thought you didn’t want to drag this out?”

“I also don’t want to hurt you,” he answers quietly, slowly picking up the pace again, angling his fingers just right. “Tell me if I’m going too fast. I don’t want to pound you too hard.”

You exhale, getting lost in the pleasure building steadily. “God, if I didn’t have a migraine I would let you rail me into next week.”

Andrew sputters at your words for a long moment and you can clearly picture his flustered face as he leans down to place his lips against your hips, muffling his moan.

“If you keep— ah— right there,” you gasp as he increases the pressure on that sensitive spot, leaving you breathless.

“Are you close?” Andrew asks, the grip you have on his hair tightening as your thighs begin to shake. He keeps going, adamant to have you reach your high. “Come for me when you're ready, darling," he whispers, trailing kisses over your skin, "Whenever you're ready."

As you succumb to the building feeling, the pain in your head is overshadowed by the pleasure dragging you under as Andrew rides out your high, only ceasing when oversensitivity makes you shudder.

"Is it any better?" he asks, lying down next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. It's slightly better," you answer, placing a tender kiss against his forehead, "Thank you, Andrew."

“You know there is nothing I like more than helping you, darling. How about a shower now?”