lads if i ever have to type “pin against the wall” ever again in this lifetime, it’ll be too soon, but i really hope you enjoy these!! if you think of more that you would like to be added, let me know! please do NOT add more in the reblogs, it is VERY likely that i can and will be making a second part to this list! now go drink some water and i hope y’all enjoy the memes!
[ KISS ]: sender pins receiver against the wall and kisses them passionately.
[ ANGER ]: sender pins receiver against the wall out of anger.
[ CHALLENGE ]: in a motion designed to challenge the receiver’s authority, sender pins receiver against the wall.
[ TRAINING ]: during a sparring match, sender ends up pinning the receiver against the wall.
[ HEAT ]: while in the middle of a make-out session, sender pushes the receiver up against the wall, unwittingly heating things up even more.
[ SHIELD ]: in order to protect them from physical harm caused by a third party, the sender shoves the receiver against the wall and shields them with their body.
[ COVER ]: while hiding from persecutors, sender pushes the receiver against a wall and uses their body to hide the receiver’s face from view.
[ HIDE ]: while on the run, the sender hastily grabs the receiver and pins them against a wall that’s hidden from public view to avoid being seen.
[ STOP ]: in order to stop the receiver from walking away, the sender guides them back and pushes them against a wall.
[ FIGHT ]: while in a physical fight, sender shoves the receiver against the wall in an effort to gain the upper hand.
[ RESTRAIN ]: sender pushes the receiver back against the wall to stop them from physically fighting the sender.
[ STEADY ]: sender gently catches and guides the emotionally distressed receiver against a wall in order to physically steady them.
[ CLOSER ]: while pinning the receiver against the wall, sender glances down at their lips, suddenly aware of how close they are to one another…
[ THROAT ]: sender pins the receiver to the wall by placing a hand or forearm against their throat.
[ FRONT ]: sender shoves the receiver against the wall so that the receiver’s front is pressed against the wall.
[ WHISPER ]: sender pins the receiver against a wall in order to whisper something into their ear (either a secret or in a manner of seduction).
[ FEAR ]: in order to frighten or intimidate the receiver, the sender shoves them back against a wall, positioning themselves so that the receiver can’t get out.
Kai’s face turned blue and his throat burned. He kept trying to get air but was unsuccessful.
Maria panicked and ran back into the kitchen. What had she put in dinner tonight? Tomatoes, cheese, lettuce. Who’s allergic to lettuce? “Juliet, is Kai allergic to tomatoes?” Maria called out.
“He has no allergies,” Juliet responded. So then why was Kai unable to breathe?
Kai helped answer that question. He placed his hands around his throat, showing Juliet and Chaia the universal choking symbol.
“I love you,,” Juliet whispered as she carefully leaned him forward and then forcefully slapped him on the back. When that didn’t work, she tried the Heimlich, which yielded the same result. She then held a wriggling Kai down as Chaia stuck a gloved hand down his throat and pulled out the offending tomato.
This is, of course, a RSS story for @brutal-nemesis’s Plant Day 2021.
And please don’t kill me, but I kinda feel like I bent the rules here. The assailant here is not a fungus or protist. It is a part of the plant kingdom, but not like that.Anyway, on to the story part of this.
Trigger Warnings – also tagged: choking, alcohol, knives, blood, surgery
WC: 897
———-
“911, what is your emergency?”
A panicked voice came from the other end of the phone. “My boyfriend is choking and we can’t get it out!”
“Okay. Where are you?”
“Middle of the quad at OakU.”
“Any landmarks nearby?” “Across the street from the ADG house.”
Victor entered the location into his computer and pulled up a map of the OakU campus. “Okay, help is on the way. My name is Victor. And you are?” “Raegan.” “Okay, Raegan. You said that your boyfriend is choking?”
“Yeah,” Raegan said, panic once again rising in her voice.
“And you tried the heimlich?” Victor asked.
“Yeah. It didn’t work. One of my friends tried that and they tried smacking his back. Nothing helped.”
“Okay. What is his name?”
“Hugo.”
“Raegan, put me on speaker.” Victor paused briefly as he waited for Raegan to oblige. “Okay, Hugo, if you can hear me, please give Raegan a thumbs up.”
Hugo barely moved. He was rocking back and forth, his arms slowly reaching at his neck, but his hands made no attempt to show Raegan a thumbs up. His olive skin slowly grew bluer.
On the other end of the phone, a message popped up on Victor’s computer. EMS was on the way, but Raegan and Hugo were not accessible by road. It would be at least 15 minutes until help could arrive.
Victor’s attention was pulled back to the call when Raegan began screaming.
“Victor, he’s not moving anymore! How much longer?”
“Your location is pretty far from any roads, so it’ll be 15-20 minutes. Can you try the heimlich again?” Victor pulled out his phone and texted Kai.
“I know you’re off, but I need help. College age male choking. Heimlich not helping. EMS 15-20 out. I am conferencing you in.”
Kai responded with a thumbs up and Victor entered his number into the console. “Raegan,” Victor said, “this is my friend Kai. He is a paramedic. He is going to help you.”
Kai cleared his throat into the phone. “Raegan, can you tell me exactly what happened?”
Raegan sighed as tears made their way from her eyes to her chin. “I was working on a project for my photography class. It was, uh, humans in nature. We were doing a shoot and Hugo decided he wanted a picture biting an acorn. I got a couple shots and then he tripped over a tree root. He must’ve swallowed the acorn and it got stuck because he can’t breathe and it’s not between his teeth anymore.”
Kai took a deep breath. “I am going to recommend something crazy, but it should save Hugo, alright? I think that you should attempt a field cricothyrotomy.”
“You want me to cut open my boyfriend’s neck?” “Raegan, it will save his life,” Victor said. “Now, before I ask you this, I want to remind you that these calls are recorded, but I do want to help.” He paused. “Does someone over the age of 21 in the ADG house have alcohol, a knife, and a straw?”
“Yeah,” Raegan responded, but it wasn’t entirely true. She always carried a pocket knife and metal straw, and she had filled her water bottle with vodka at a party the night before. Victor didn’t need to know where it came from.
“Raegan, I need you to sterilize everything. Dump the alcohol on your hands, his neck, the knife, and the straw,” Victor commanded.
Raegan carefully poured the alcohol out of her bottle, through the straw, and onto her hands, her knife, and Hugo’s neck. “Done,” she said, putting her phone on speaker and placing next to Hugo’s short, scruffy black hair.
Kai took a breath and began to instruct Raegan. “Raegan, you are going to find the cricothyroid membrane, it is–”
“In that indentation below the Adam’s Apple,” Raegan finished.
“Yes,” Kai said with a slight bit of surprise in his voice.
“You sound surprised,” Raegan responded. “I find that knowing human anatomy is incredibly important to my art.”
“Alright then,” Kai continued, “You are going to make a 1-inch long incision. You are going to drive your knife in until you feel a bit of a pop. That means you are in the trachea.”
Raegan squeezed her eyes shut before busting them open again. She grasped the handle of her pocket knife and slid the blade across her boyfriend’s olive-colored skin. Dark red blood oozed from the opening. At the center of the incision, Raegan pushed down on the knife until she felt something different than the feeling of slicing through fascia and muscle. She slid her finger into the cavity and there certainly was a hole in something. “Done,” she informed Kai and Victor as she pulled her finger out of Hugo’s neck.
“Slip the straw into the hole in the trachea and take a breath into it,” Kai instructed.
Raegan slid her metal straw into the hole that had just held her finger. She wrapped her lips around her purple silicone straw topper. She gently exhaled through the straw. Surprised, she pulled back when she saw Hugo’s chest rise in his green hoodie. “He is breathing!” she exclaimed.
“Good,” Victor said. “Paramedics are about 5 minutes out. I can stay with you until they get there, okay?” “Thank you,” Raegan replied softly. She buried her face into Hugo’s shoulder. Her tears joined the bloodstains on his hoodie.
Warnings: blood, michael being a smug dick, choking (while making out), mentions of murder, descriptions of wounds
A/N: i posted this on my other blog i had for a fat minute so if you feel like this is familarl you might have already read it lol. but i wanted to post it here too cause i liked it <3
You had no idea what Michael looked like under the mask. You had never asked and he was damn not going to show. Even after he started to come around more, sleep in your home, he never took off his mask. You got the impression he didn’t mind staying out of whatever place they were keeping him. Smiths Grove you were pretty sure. He didn’t kill everynight. It was a weird sense of normalcy that the two of you had created. But still, the face under the mask remained a mystery to you.
You didn’t wait up for him at night. Sometimes he would be back before the sun fell, sometimes he wouldn’t be back until it rose. There was no telling which night was which. Like tonight, you were vaguely aware of the sun going down through the blinds as you read something on the couch. You had work in the morning and should probably start getting ready for bed soon but the book had just gotten good.
You pushed the page to the side, biting your thumbnail. You might even have to finish the book tonight with how this was going. Though you didn’t want to stay up too late. You were mulling over these decisions when you heard the front door open.
You looked up over the book. Would he come into the living room drenched in blood? Clean? It was like russian roulette with him sometimes. You didn’t mind much, it kept your life interesting.
“Michael? I’m in here!” you called, not really wanting to get up from your spot. You could hear his even footsteps thudding along the hardwood hallway. You didn’t anticipate much of a reaction from him. He lived with you because he could tolerate you, you had food, and somewhere to sleep when he collapsed eventually. He had never said a word to you and you never expected him to.
It took you a moment to look up from your book again. He was standing in the living room, unmoving. His hands were at his side. There was a sticky red on his jumpsuit that you would recognize anywhere. Blood. It was a little early for that but it wasn’t a shock.
Whatwas a shock was that his mask was half ripped. There was a jagged cut from the eye down to his neck. In the dim lighting of the setting sun you couldn’t see much of his features. It was just a dark shadow with some dirt and blood, his or someone elses you weren’t sure.
This was uncharted territory for you. You put your book down slowly, standing up. You hesitated walking up to him. As always, there was no expression to read. Did he want you to fix the mask?
“I’ll get you a new mask but everything is closed tonight. You’re welcome to go out and find a new one,” you said gingerly. You half expected him to just go upstairs into your bed where he had taken residence and pass out without half a care. But he just stood there. For a second you thought he fell asleep standing up like a horse or something. “Michael?”
He took one step towards you. You instinctively took half a step backwards but after a moment of thought, closed the small gap between the two of you. He was breathing heavily. You eyed him warily.
With such slow movements you could have mistaken him for being still he raised his hands up to his head. He wrapped his fingers under the mask. At first you didn’t understand what he was doing and then it dawned on you. You parted your lips in surprise as he lifted the broken mask up over his head.
You didn’t want to make this a big deal. Michael was like a cat. If you pointed something out he would recoil and who knows when he would be willing to give it another go.
Though your face remained a (reluctant) neutral, your heart was beating a mile a minute. He was handsome.There was a cut down his face that was identical to the one his mask dawned. It was deep too. Who knew how someone had gotten that close to injure him that deeply. He had dark eyes, though you weren't’ all that surprised about that. Sharp wide cheekbones and a cold gaze. His hair was curly.It was unkempt and clearly unwashed. You tried to get him to bathe every week or so but it was a hassle and you never saw him wash his hair. So the curls were natural, reaching the top of his ears. He was annoyingly beautiful.
You cleared your throat. There was no expression on him to read and you doubted there ever would be.
“I’ll get the stuff for your face.” You started to walk away but he grabbed your arm, causing you to jump. You turned back towards him. He was looking down at you, a neutral look in his eye that had an undertone with control. “Michael?” you whispered. You wanted your voice to be louder but nothing strong came out.
Did you dare kiss him and risk breaking your neck? In the moment you were pretty positive it would be worth it. You moved forward and kissed him. His jaw was timid. You had never kissed like this before. You put your hand on his jaw and slowly started to move it.
He let you take the lead but only for a moment.
Once he got the hang of it he easily took the control back. He put a hand firmly on your arm and moved you back until you finally hit a wall. He raised his hand and wrapped it around your neck. For a moment you thought he was going to squeeze the life out of you. Panic started to rise in your chest but it was subdued when he squeezed the sides. He could still break you but at least you would be happy going.
Michael pulled away. His blood had gotten on your face. It had started to pour down his chin. His face gave away no signs of pleasure or disdain. You however were breathing happily, holding your neck with an impressed look on your face.
“You sure got the hang of that quick,” you breathed. “Lemmee get the stuff for your eye,” was all you could think to say next. He let you walk past him this time. If you didn’t know any better there was a smug aura in the air as you left him.
Back with another request! This one featuring a living scarecrow, very nsfw, if you don’t like degrading/choking, turn back! Otherwise enjoy! *Disclaimer: None of the pics are mine! All credit goes to original artist.
If you like my work and want to read more, check out my MASTERLIST
Requests/Matchups are Temporarily CLOSED!
A wooden hand wrapped around your throat while the other tangled into your fiery red hair that Loki had stated more than once he adored. “Look at you taking my cock like a whore.” He growled, a shiver running along your spine at the statement. Normally you would fire something back at him, but with the position you were in, he was hitting all the right areas that made you see stars. A pathetic whine of a moan came from you, he tugged on your hair hard enough to tilt your head back, your green eyes meeting the hollows of his own.
“Pathetic little girl, do you always sound like that?” His voice never wavered, but with the way his grip occasionally loosened on your hair before tightening again, you knew that he was enjoying it as much as you were.
It wasn’t the first time you had snuck out of your house to go down into the fields where Loki was usually patrolling with a scythe resting on his shoulder. The fields were his, he had been taking care of them for the elderly farmer that owned the land, the first run in you had with him was nothing short of fascination. That was until you had said something snarky to him in which he had shot back that you could put your mouth to good use for something else instead of insulting him. It was the first of many nights you had spent with the scarecrow that patrolled the fields, truth was you didn’t know how he even had a cock, you had assumed that it was just part of the magic keeping him together.
A harsh slap to your rear brought you back to the present, a moan ripping its way from your lips as he guided you to ride him harder. “There we go princess, thought I lost you for a second…” He cooed in such a way that had you throwing a glare at him.
“Not a fucking princess…” You hisses, raking your nails down his chest that had a hiss slipping from him, you adored the sound more than what you’d like to admit.
He was close, you knew it by the way his grip on your throat started to lax more and more. The hand that had been in your hair had slipped to your waist to guide you into a hard, rough pace that he had liked. “Gonna cum already?” You teased, his gaze locking onto yours as he huffed in response.
“Think you can actually take it this time?” He gritted out between a groan, the sound almost music to your ears as you knew you were the only one to bring him to this state. You rolled your eyes, though you weren’t far behind him.
“I took it last time, didn’t I?” You shot back at him, he was beginning to grind up into you sloppily as he was chasing after his high.
“Like a good slut.” The phrase had you tipping over the edge, tightening around him as wave after wave of pleasure had washed over you, a soft moan coming from you as he continued to guide you to ride him throughout it until he had reached his own. The two of you laid there catching your breath.
“You’re still a bitch… But you’re mine.” Loki finally mumbled after a few moments, his fingers gently carding through your hair as you laughed quietly.
“Yeah, and you’re my asshole.” You responded, a chuckle coming from him as you both laid there fully knowing that you would be back the next night for the exact same thing.
This WIP has existed for months, and it suddenly decided to cooperate, so here’s a small something, set after Celebrating.
I can’t not mention what introduced me to the trope of breath control in the best way possible and consequently inspired me to write it - this amazing piece by @redwingedwhump.
Anger is easy to swallow, less painful than most alternatives he has, so he uses it to conceal everything else, hide it from Daniel and himself alike. So when the numbness finally subsides, when he feels something, recognizes despair and terror, he’s quick to channel it into anger behind closed doors. He lets out a frustrated scream and pounds his fist against the wall.
Happy anniversary, sweetheart.
He stands in the middle of the bathroom, clutching his head in his hands, breathing heavily, fighting to stay angry, knowing that otherwise he’s going to shatter. He has to get himself together, he has to walk out of here like nothing’s amiss, he has to crawl into Daniel’s bed in nothing but the shorts that act as his pajamas - he wasn’t even given a shirt for that purpose, nights get so warm here, and you have nothing to hide, don’t you?
“Fuck,” he growls, resting his forehead against the cool tiles. He doesn’t want to leave, even though it’s been a whole year, he should be used to this, to Daniel’s affection, to falling asleep in his arms.
Fighting the need to just curl up on the bathroom mat and retreat back into emptiness, he forces himself to leave, clinging to his anger.
Daniel, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed, greets him with a smile and extends his hand out to him.
“Come here.”
He tenses up and glares, but after a moment of silence he obeys, because what choice does he have? He can’t stand in one spot forever. He accepts Daniel’s hand and allows himself to be guided onto the bed, until they’re both kneeling on it, facing each other.
“I heard you,” Daniel says.
“Impressive,” Wren growls, making him laugh, and then he winces when Daniel ruffles his hair.
“You got pretty angry in there, didn’t you?”
“Like that’s something new,” he says, giving Daniel a hard stare. “You know I hate this planet. You know I hate you, and you know I’ll never stop being angry.”
He hopes so, anyway.
He almost expects to be hit for his words, but as unpredictable as Daniel is, Wren can still fairly reliably sense when he’s in his infuriating unbothered mood. He simply sighs, rubbing circles on the back of Wren’s hand with his thumb.
“Why don’t you try to calm down? I know what could help.”
“Letting me go could help,” Wren croaks, his throat closed up. Letting him go. As if Daniel could just up and change his mind after a year, realize they’re not meant to be together, free him. He’s not even graced with a response, and he’s almost ashamed of his stupid, stupid words.
“How about some breathing exercises?”
“What, are you a therapist on top of being a professional creep?”
Daniel laughs, letting go of his hand to move behind him and pull him closer until Wren’s back is pressed against his chest, and Wren frowns furiously, fixing his eyes on the sheets. Daniel’s arm snakes across his chest, keeping him close, making him shudder.
“Inhale,” Daniel whispers into his ear, and Wren hates himself for getting goosebumps from this, from the soft voice, the touch, and the warmth.
“Fuck off,” he says. Daniel’s reaction is immediate - he wraps his free hand around Wren’s throat and closes it, cutting off airflow. Wren’s eyes go wide and he claws at the hand, trying to get Daniel to let him go; air isn’t reaching his lungs, he panics, the hold on his chest gets tighter too, until Daniel finally lets go of his neck, leaving him to pant desperately as he readjusts his hand on his chest.
“Inhale, Wren,” he repeats, and this time Wren obeys, taking a shallow breath and letting it out instinctively, and-
The grip returns, his breath taken away again.
“No!” he chokes out, thrashing useless. This time Daniel lets go faster.
“I didn’t tell you to exhale. Now, inhale.”
He hates obeying, but the thought of being strangled for the third time awakens a primal panic in his heart. He inhales.
“Hold it.”
He frowns and looks up at the ceiling. Just another one of Daniel’s stupid ideas. It doesn’t matter, and it’s not worth any deeper thought.
“Exhale.”
He spits the air out.
“No, no, not like that. Slowly, sweetheart. This is supposed to help you calm down, remember? Inhale.”
Daniel’s hand isn’t even pressing down on his chest. It’s simply there to feel it rise and fall at his command, to remind him about his captor’s presence right behind him.
“Hold.”
There’s a smile in the dreaded voice.
“Exhale. Beautiful, sweetheart.”
Wren feels sick.
“Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Inhale. Hold.”
Theholdpart becomes longer, unbearably so, and Wren squirms in Daniel’s embrace when his lungs start to burn.
And yet, he obeys.
“Exhale.”
Slowly.
“That’s it. Inhale. Hold.”
The worst part is that it works. Focusing on the breathing and the gentle commands silences his anger, and Daniel’s arms around him, his voice in his ear, and the otherwise silent bedroom… he can imagine himself feeling at peace here, like he could close his eyes and doze off, as he has so many times in Daniel’s embrace, and every single time he hated himself for it.
“Exhale.”
Then the touch and the voice disappear, and the sheets rustle as Daniel backs away, leaving Wren still as a statue, and it isn’t until he can feel fire in his chest that he realizes he hasn’t taken a breath since the last command. He inhales and exhales, and then does it again, more slowly, and again, to find his own rhythm, different from the one forced on him.
“Calmer already,” Daniel murmurs, sitting in front of Wren, who looks away, face burning. “And wasn’t it nice?”
“We have different definitions of nice.”
And of love.Relationship. Partners.
“Maybe you just need to learn mine, then,” Daniel says, reaching towards Wren, who shivers, but doesn’t shrink back from the hand that rests on his chest again, right over his heart, feeling its fast beating, but also the slight rising and falling in rhythm with Wren’s breathing. “Because holding on to your definitions here will only make you miserable.”
He presses down when Wren exhales, then lessens the pressure when he inhales. They maintain eye contact, Wren’s gaze puzzled with a hint of fear, Daniel’s face reflecting nothing but calm focus, his hand continuing to move in Wren’s rhythm - until he presses just a bit sooner and releases accordingly, and after a small hitch Wren finds himself following this new rhythm, too stunned to react at first before he shakes his head and forces himself to defy Daniel’s guidance. Daniel raises one corner of his mouth in a half-smile, not saying a word.
His hand disappears, but its touch, pressure, and message continue burning into Wren’s skin and lungs like white-hot metal.
