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maroonbreeze · 11 months

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Will it be a good dream or a nightmare?

I have health issue. A case that only happens to 1 in 100,000 people. I hava Achalasia, a rare disorder that affects the esophagus. I have trouble swallowing, usually feels like the food is stuck when i'm eating or drinking water. Sometimes I will have terrible cases of food got stuck, choking, unable to get the food down down my damn esophagus and vomit it out. Sometimes, with deep, deep multiple breathing, it goes down.

So you can say that I have fear eating outside. In case, the food stucks and chokes me. It happened once when i was alone eating lunch. I got choked by chicken porridge. By porridge, soft food. It lasted for a quite long time. I was crying internally, suffering, and breathing deep enough multiple times. It took long time. Multiple times. It went down. After a long long time. I feared eating alone since that day. I do but that day traumatised me.

I had this for 2 years now. It started with acid reflux, regurgitation and reflux at late night when i'm sleeping. Then this achalasia came. I realised that i am a food lover, that i love to eat afterwards. Too late already is it? I took it for granted. My weight dropped. I went from M to S sometimes even XS. The comments that i got from outsiders, body shaming me for being skinny. Especially those who are being insecure about their large size. I got it a lot from them. They know i am sick and still they let their mouth run. My dream when i'm sleeping consists of me eating non-stop without trouble. Yes, without trouble. Without pain. But dream is just a dream right? They haunts you and show you colorful images but it is not possible. They don't know this. No. They don't have the capacity to understand this. Believe me, i tried making them to understand. That i did not want this. I hate this. I want to change this, but I can't. I can't.

The comments that I got

1. Please take my fat and all my extra skin. You need that. If you reduce it, i will give it to you again.

2. Wind would knock you off.

3. Your shirts looks big on you. (I KNOW)

4. You would look better if you put on some weight.

5. What is your hip size?

6. You should eat a lot.

7. You do not need hot air balloon. Even cold air balloon will lift you up. (this was totally degrading)

8. I will look like your mom if people sees us together outside.

9. What is your kg/weight?

10. I just want to fill up this officce space and let you eat a lot.

11. You only eat that?

12. You done eating?

13. What are you eating?

They don't know the pain i am going through. I have no problem eating, putting food in my mouth. The swallowing part is the problem. My esophagus is the problem.

And you might be wondering, whether did i get consultation from doctors yet. I did. I went to them after getting terrible acute gastritis, twice. Just because my food got stuck and i vomited that time. Man, i tell you acute gastritis is not a joke. I would not wish it for anyone. Pills did not work. Only injections did. That too for 3 days. I couldn't eat. Felt like putting rocks inside stomach. Felt thirsty but kept on vomiting it out. I'm on the verge of dehydration. I prayed after a long time to let the pain go away. For me to eat. For me to live.

Did lots of procedure afterwards. Endoscopy, barium swallow, x-rays, ct scan and manometry. Dousing nasty liquids, getting exposed to rays, getting my throat to bleed. I did it all. And doctor suggested to do a surgery called poem. They gave lots of hope. Telling me that it would cure me. I was happy. I was excited. To let my weight increase. To be healthy. To eat good food. I didn't feel scared to go under sedation. Kind of happy and relieved actually. People even asked me whether am i feeling nervous. I said no. Because i would be healthy right?

Hmm. The procedure. The surgery failed. The doctors attempted twice and my skin couldn't be lifted up. I went through a failed surgery. The 1st surgery in my life, and i wasn't lucky. It failed. I had to kept fasting for another day, a total of 48 hours so that they could do me another procedure. To check whether they had caused any holes in my esophagus while attempting the surgery. I did not eat for almost 3 days. I drank water. I was scared that my gastric would flared up. I cried while calling my mom. I rarely cry in public, but to hear that my hope got snuffed out, broked me. Tears kept falling. It flows now as well.

I was okay after that. Thinking whatever happens, happens. I could handle it. I have been eating blended food for 3 days now. Tomorow is the last days for such diet. Then i could go back to normal food. Damn, the gas trapped in my stomach was real discomfort and pain. And i'm writing this because i have a lot in my mind right now. It will go after this. A little. I read that this problem with esophagus could cause cancer. It is high risk for cancer to develop. Hahaha. What a life. I don't want to die painfully. I want to live, healthily if possible. And sometimes other thoughts, that it's okay if i die. We are humans afterall. Not everyone gets lucky. Not everyone have a healthy life. Not everyone had failed surgery. I did. I am not lucky. I am not healthy. I had a failed surgery. I want to be healthy. I want to eat without pain.

Will it be a good dream or a nightmare?

(Not edited)

#diary #tumblr diary #diary entry #ramble #achalasia #surgery #cancer #bodyshamers #thin #eating issues #failed surgery #acute gastritis #barium swallow #x ray #hospitalised #i want to be healthy

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bloomingmindfulness · 2 years

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"The first test I had was a camera down my nose into my throat, but they could see nothing there. Of course, they wanted to just discharge me, but I stood up for myself and was referred for a barium swallow." New blog post - https://www.bloomingmindfulness.co.uk/i-had-a-barium-swallow/

#barium swallow #chronic illness #blog

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kyluxtrashpit · 1 day

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So. Stomach update. As I haven’t given one here in a while lmao

After the first month of the medication (plus an ultrasound that came back normal), the reflux problems came right back so I went to another doc. He said okay, here’s more pills, take them twice a day, and we’ll also do a barium swallow x-ray. Also apparently I was being way too careful with food, so the bright side is I can eat most things again (yay) but the downside is I had to cut caffeine completely 100%. And it’s awful

Anyway. I had the barium thing yesterday (it was also awful lmao) and doc called me today with results and. Everything is normal? No signs of inflammation, polyps, GERD, any reflux at all, or an ulcer. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary

Which like. That sounds great. But while I’m not having the reflux or pain right now I still feel like I’m burping more than usual? And that was one of my symptoms. So he said to finish the pills, taking the last week of them once a day instead of twice, and then see how it goes. And never take NSAIDs again

I hope this just means that I did have an ulcer and maybe it’s just in the final stages of healing and couldn’t be seen, so once I finish the pills it will definitely be gone and I will never have this issue again. But I’m also worried cause like. If my entire upper GI and all my abdominal organs are normal and I never did have an ulcer and there’s no signs of anything else being wrong. Then what the fuck is it? Will it go away? Or is this just my life now? Cause while I’m glad I can eat mostly freely again, ZERO caffeine is just not sustainable

Idk. Maybe I’m getting worked up over nothing and it will be completely gone in ~3 weeks when I finish the pills. I really really hope so. I’m just also really worried that it will come back again and then wtf do I do cause I can’t do this forever and if they can’t find anything wrong with me, then how they hell do I fix it?

#aaaaa medical anxiety #I do not like it #also barium swallow sucks 0/10 lmao #I’m still dealing with some after effects from it too #not fun!#anyway pls cross your fingers for me that it will indeed be gone #and everything will go back to normal and I can laugh about this as just an unpleasant medical experience #text #misc #shut up nerd

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thedeafprophet · 24 days

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there's like a specific kind of..... i dont know if its necesarily ageism?... but thing i see when im getting medical tests done by people who dont know my full history here, where they initially seem to assume that I won't have health problems, presuembly because im young?

and then get surprised when things Go Badly during tests lmao

#both times during the barium swallows ive done the techs State:tm: always shifted at the end of the test lmao #medical cw #like i GET that im not ur typical 80 year old with these tests but. obviously i wouldnt be here if it wasnt a problem????#i WARN THEM too. that things are gonna go bad. and yet XD #(i uh. was only able to do half of todays test lmao)#the prophet speaks #nothin was worse then the rheumotologist or however you spell it #not reading my chart and then going to try and dismiss my problems before she was correct el em ey oo

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ofdinosanddais1 · 2 months

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Me: Am I really sure I have dysphagia? I mean, I've been having pretty few episodes *immediately chokes so bad that I'm almost throw up the medicine I just took*

#dysphagia #it's potentially a muscular problem #i won't know until i get my barium swallow #but when they did the endoscopy #they noticed there was narrowing of the esophagus but no scar tissue #so it's not caused by my acid reflux #which makes sense because my acid reflux has not been triggered in like almost a year #meanwhile my dysphagia triggers like several times a week #tw: emetophobia #emetophobia #chronic illness #unexplained illness

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primrosebitch · 8 months

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so after some testy tests involving x-rays and an abhorrent tasting concoction it was found my stomach is not very good at releasing food into my intestines in a timely manner, so i'm now on a medication to help with that

Sadly though, as a result of the medication working i am now more hungry more often, which isn't exactly ideal when it's nearly 2am and i'm starving and also don't wanna get up and there isn't any food in the house that i want to eat, thankfully i realized that i was wrong and remembered that we have a fruit bowl with bananas at the dining table so i won't be going hungry tonight but i am going to be stocking up on snacks for the foreseeable future

#idk the medical term for it #but my stomach is slow #and doesn't like releasing it's contents in a timely manner #chronic illness #that reminds me #when i was a tiny child i decided to swallow a coin #and it took a full 7 days to come out the other side #and when my mom went to the doctor cause the coin hadn't come out #my doctor was like 'you probably just missed it but was candy an x-ray just in case'#and low and behold #it was in fact still inside of me #after 7 days #oh yeah #the awful concoction they had me drink (both when i did the testy tests and when i had a coin inside me)#was barium #truly the stuff of nightmares #banana

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apujo5 · 1 year

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The History of the Modified Barium Swallow Study

No matter what you call it…there is a history behind the Modified Barium Swallow Study (MBSS). Gold Standard? The Modified Barium Swallow Study has long been called THE gold standard in dysphagia evaluation, however it does have its limitations. The MBSS definitely continues to be A gold standard in swallowing evaluation. Early Days In the 1970’s, Dr. Jeri Logemann developed the MBSS or the…

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#Dysphagia #Dysphagia Assessment #Medical SLP #Modified Barium Swallow Study #Swallowing #Swallowing Assessment #Swallowing Disorders

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six-of-ravens · 1 year

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deleted all my scrolly apps (social media and news, mainly) for like 2 hours so I could Focus on This Book bc I've been compulsively doomscrolling all day, read 58 pages, and now I've redownloaded the apps and I don't think the 1.5 hours left before bedtime is enough to read the remaining 22 pages...

#even while making this post i zoned out for 10 minutes #side note ive had a very particular pain in my stomach today and i KNOW i had food poisoning yesterday and that's probably why #also ever since i was a teenager I've had pain here caused by anxiety. we know that. they did Tests to make sure it wasn't an ulcer or w/e #and yet my brain is like OMG YOU'RE GONNA DIE #thanks brain. shut up now.#i didn't swallow barium and get spun around on a tilt table to prove i didn't have an ulcer so you could keep harping on about this :/

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veone · 1 year

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choke on water and wash it down with more water.

#random but I’ve been watching barium swallows and now I’m forever extra swallowing just in case

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prolix-yuy · 5 months

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Beautiful Release

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an agreement. Simple, clean, easy. But not this time.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, IT'S PEGGING DIN TIME! Anal sex (m receiving), rough sex, sex toys, fingering (m receiving), handjob, frottage, blowjob, swallowing, cumshot, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), mild dubcon (Reader isn't aware of Din's mental state and stops the session to re-negotiate boundaries), painful sex, sex as self-flagellation, hurt/comfort.

Notes: Welcome to my addition to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Event 2024! This idea had been bumping around in my brain and this gave me the perfect excuse to write it. Thanks @wannab-urs for organizing this event, making the gorgeous banners, and giving me a chance to live my fantasies after S3 gave us the most delicious kneeling restrained Din image. I will never forget it, it's burned into my brain forever.

Set after S2 and before The Book of Boba Fett.

Cross-posted on AO3

He’s come to you before, but never like this.

Din always treats your encounters like serendipity, but from the first time you’ve known how far from the truth that is. He finds ways to drift into your path, tilting his helmet like he never expected you to be at this spaceport, which you prefer for its discretion, or in this cantina, which serves a hell of a barium fizz. The niceties always devolve into the silent request, which you never fail to fulfill.

But now, there’s a holomessage blinking on your control panel.

Send me your coordinates. Usual encoding.

It’s brisk, cold, mostly to protect you both, but even then something’s off. He’s never admitted to seeking you out. Something stirs deep in your stomach, consulting the encoding slug he gave you ages ago in case you ever needed him. Funny, the first time you’d use it would be because you think he needs you.

Your winding relationship with Din Djarin began at the business end of a blaster, but you can’t fault him for that. The ship you were flying then had all the hallmarks of a slaver vessel, but when he found your crew of rebel sympathizers he lowered his weapon. One escort and a few short-lived conversations later, and you’d forged a razor-thin alliance.

Your paths wound their way across and through each other for over a year, and in that time Din warmed to you. He gave you his name, his allegiances, his contacts if needed. In return you forged documents and built jammers for his ramshackle ship. Mutually beneficial, and after a time pleasantly warm. His laugh always surprised you, a low chuckle when you turned a phrase just right on him.

And the kid! The curious little gremlin that had been accompanying him more in recent times did help to smooth the rough spots. Grogu’s presence always brightened your days, brief moments of pure joy from his tireless antics. Din seemed to be ever the exasperated protector, but when he tucked Grogu into his arm his aura glowed.

However, the times when Din “stumbled” upon you with seemingly no purpose had little to do with play dates or trades. Well, maybe only in the most euphemistic sense.

It was on a cargo run - cargo being more frightened people fleeing under the guise of your fake shipping business - that Din first encountered what would bring him back to you time and time again. There was a man among the stowaways who took an interest in you, the feeling mutual. He wound his way around like a lothcat in heat, and when you whispered how you might be able to pass the time he enthusiastically agreed.

You weren’t much of an exhibitionist, but the ship wasn’t meant for privacy. So when Din happened upon you bending the man over a cargo crate, your strap slickly splitting him open as he moaned behind your clamped hand, you did feel some mild embarrassment. You weren’t sure how long he watched you thrust into the other man, but the little cough that alerted you to his presence made you turn and take him in.

He was clearly affected, hand gripping his belt as the other clenched by his side. Fascinating. The Mandalorian had surprises in store.

The man garbled about sucking Din’s cock, letting the Mando cum on his face while you pounded his tight hole, but you stuck your fingers in his mouth and picked up your rhythm again. You’d met other Mandalorians in your travels, but Din’s particular religion was much stricter than most. He might take hefty offense if you assumed any of the armor could come off. Instead you let him watch without comment as your companion came all over the side of the cargo crate, soothing him through the aftershocks. As you cleaned him up you noticed your audience fled, and you determined never to speak of this.

It would take two months for Din to come to you.

“People like this?” he asked when you showed him your strap and assortment of attachments. You shrugged, picking out the one you secretly thought he’d enjoy.

“Some do, some don’t. It’s just one of many things I like,” you said, leaning against your bedroom wall as he filled the small space with restless energy. “I’m sure you like plenty of things too.”

There it was. The little roll of the shoulders and flex of a hand that told you Din wasn’t as inexperienced as some would believe.

“Never tried something like this,” he mumbled, and you smiled under the knowledge that he was nervous. Din Djarin, feared throughout the galaxy, and dearer friend than you ever expected, had something he wanted and didn't know how to ask for.

“Would you like to try it?” you said, taking the last barrier away. He tilted the helmet down, fingers restless on his hip.

“Yes.”

That first night you didn’t fuck him, though by the end he was so close to begging you almost came from the sound. Instead you opened him up with your fingers, got him used to the feeling of fullness and how to connect it to pleasure, while he laid on your bed and gripped the sheets so hard you thought he’d rip them. His pants bunched across his thighs, you got to admire the cords of muscle rippling as you made him shake and choke. His cock, velvety and weeping on his stomach, made your mouth water, but you only offered to suck it when he was just on the precipice. Your hot mouth wrapping around his head, two clever fingers stroking his prostate, tipped him over into bliss as he shouted his completion. Pride swelled in your chest at his belabored breath, chestplate heaving and thighs quivering on either side of your head.

When you returned from cleaning up he was already dressed again, despite your protests to wait and let you ease him down from this new experience. He thanked you, awkwardly, and left quickly. Lying in the same bed that night, still smelling of him, you reasoned with yourself. He probably had a lot of feelings to sort out, both around his pleasure and the fact that you gave it to him. You hoped he trusted you enough to know you’d be discreet. And, as your fingers slid into your underwear, you hoped he’d seek you out again.

It was only a week before you were at the same spaceport again, his heavy boots clanking up your ramp. You tried to hide your own nerves, but when Din stood before you and let the visor drag up and down your body, a delicious grin crept onto your face.

“Ready to try more?”

Indeed he was.

He enters your ship without preamble, a brief flit of concern clouding your features at how quickly he disarmed your security measures. You weren’t expecting him for another hour. He must have jumped to get to you.

It’s thrilling, to know the Mandalorian’s need is so great.

But when he enters and closes the door behind him, the energy is…off. Not seductive, teasing, edged like the other times. No, he’s holding his body so tight and so still. There’s nothing aggressive in it, but you glimpse why his enemies fear him. Without a face, and with so much obscuring the flesh beneath, you’re not sure when he’ll strike.

He catches you rummaging through your drawer, the strap in your hand. Assessing, you give him a gentler smile than usual, hands visible, softening your stance.

“Hello, Din.”

He nods, quickly, unbuckling his belt and yanking his cape free. Both fall to the floor carelessly. You press on.

“How about you tell me what you want?” you say, watching him carefully as he opens his pants plaquet. The mouthwatering strip of skin you covet peeks from beneath his top.

“Just need…need this,” he says, and while naturally a man of few words you’d taught him to be more vocal in this respect.

“Okay, Din. How about you kneel on the bed and we start there?” Your voice lowers into a soothing register, reaching for his arm.

“No,” he almost shouts, startling your hand back. He recovers. “No, I want…” You can practically hear him licking his lips on a sigh, slowing himself down. “Can you sit against the headboard?”

Brows raised, you nod. He’s never ridden you before, always preferring to let you take him from behind or on his back. Pulling the strap-on over your leggings, you settle against the headboard and wait for him. He doesn’t take long, kneeling on the bed briefly in contemplation before swinging over your lap. Shucking his pants half down his legs, you can’t resist a giggle.

“Might be better to take them off,” you tease, letting your hands lay featherlight on his hips. A huff crackles through the vocoder but he doesn’t move to disrobe further.

“I’ll open you up a bit first,” you say, one hand reaching for lube while the other snakes its way to his hole. You encounter surprising slickness, but he’s nowhere as warmed up as you get him.

“S’okay, I took care of it,” he mumbles, both hands coming up to grip the headboard above your head. Slicking lube on the dildo, you move to finger him enough to ease your way in.

“Just a little more…”

“I’m fine.”

The curt retort snaps your face to the helmet, now more of a cowled chin and shining halo of beskar above your head. There’s something bubbling uncomfortably under the surface, something you feel the need to drag out by the scruff of the neck, but it’s Din. You never talk feelings with Din. Frankly, you barely talk at all during, or after, any of your nights together.

“Sorry,” he breathes, forcing relaxation. “I’m ready. Please.”

Your eyes linger for a moment longer, then you circle the base of your cock in waiting.

He descends slowly, gritted breaths and sharp blasts of air from his nose echoing above you. You watch the strain in his thighs as he sinks and sinks, his cock only half-hard against his stomach. Leaving a hand on one hip, you stroke soothing paths up and down his lower back, watching for discomfort. Instead he’s marble around you, coiled, body not releasing as usual. Normally when you fuck him he dissolves, rolling his hips back onto you and choking out praises of how good you feel.

None of that comes. He meets the base of your cock and immediately slides back up at an almost punishing pace. He can’t be that acclimated yet, and his pained hisses and grunts only make that more apparent.

“Din, slow down,” you request, hands firmer on his hips to try and even his pace. If he heard you he says nothing, now slamming his hips down on your cock. “Din,” you beseech again, nails starting to dig in. His grunts grow to growls, something from the heat of battle, your headboard creaking from his crushing grip.

Clarity overtakes you, the shudder of his stomach and forceful downstrokes only getting more intense. There wasn’t pleasure in this. Something is eating up Din inside and he’s trying to fuck it out of himself. And he’s using you to do that.

“Din Djarin, STOP.”

The echo of your voice, strong and steely, finally brings Din to a stop with your cock buried deep in his ass. His chest heaves in front of you, limbs quivering from the exertion, but he’s as still as he can be. Gripping his chestplate, you push him back enough to look him in the visor, your anger righteously reflected back.

“You don’t punish yourself with my cock,” you order, teeth clenched and seething. “Do you think so little of me, that I’d just let you rip yourself to shreds without a word?”

Din freezes, but this time you know it’s shame. If you were in a clearer headspace you might have tried reassurance, or asked him to lay beside you and talk about what’s destroying him, but you’re just too upset.

“Is that all you come to me for?” you spit out, knuckles aching from gripping his armor. He’s silent for long enough that you consider throwing him out before he speaks.

“Something happened. And I just want to…be empty. To not think about it every moment.” He leans forward and your visage warps as he presses his forehead to the crown of your head. The anger thrums but starts to ebb as he folds around you. “I didn’t know where else to go. You’ve always taken care of me. More than I deserve.”

The sadness in his voice is palpable, and even with your mouth still sour from his deception you find the compassion to wrap your arms around his middle. The chestplate presses into your cheek, a metronome for Din’s slowing breaths.

“If you have any care in your heart for me, don’t ever do that again,” you grit out. Din’s breath catches.

“I care for you,” he says, and a door in your heart you never realized was cracked widens for Din’s admission.

“I care for you too, you karking asshole, which is why I want you to say something instead of trying to hate fuck your feelings out.”

Din’s chest begins to shake again, but you’re sure it’s laughter this time. You manage a giggle of your own, letting him lean back and look at you again. The motion shifts your cock in him, and his sharp sigh arches your brow.

“If you wanted to forget, you could have just told me,” you say, rolling your hips sensuously up into his clenching hole. Din’s head drops back, grip tightening on the headboard again as you grind into him.

“Please,” he begs, so soft and vulnerable you can’t help but give him what he needs.

Slowly you press up into him, guiding his hips to rock on your cock. You love the feel of his ass in your hands, well muscled and perfect for grabbing, manhandling him just enough to show he can let go. He follows your direction reluctantly at first, but as you plant your feet and start thrusting with more range he loosens. You can feel it in his arms, holding on to the headboard for dear life, and the building rhythm of his hips meeting yours. For a man whose life is violence, you never want to bring that into your sessions. But a light swat on one asscheek pulls the most delicious moan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans, bearing down on you even more. Tilting your hips, you arch his back enough that you’re sure to hit his prostate on the next thrust.

“Maker!”

There it is.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. Waiting a moment, you zero in on that perfect spot inside him and hit it with every one of your thrusts. “Do you feel that? Feel how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, fuck,” Din curses, one hand flitting down to squeeze the base of his cock. He’s at full attention now, head bobbing against your stomach. You swell with pride that he’s having to stave off his orgasm so quickly, but you’ll be the one to make those decisions now.

“All I want you to think about is how good you feel,” you purr, tugging his hand away and replacing it with your own. You long for his skin against yours, so you pull up your shirt to skim the head of his cock against your soft belly. He chokes, stuttering away but he’s trapped between your hand and thighs.

“Wait, Maker, I’ll cum if you…” he garbles, but his body keeps meeting your grinds. You shush him gently, stroking from base to tip and smearing precum over the head.

“You will, but only when I let you. You know I’ll make it good for you, make nothing but this pleasure you’re feeling fill that head of yours.” His rapid nod almost knocks you in the head with the beskar, but he manages to tuck into your neck instead. The helmet is a shocking cool against your skin, but the act of burrowing into you must be rewarded. Bringing your arms around him, you press along the length of his body, trapping his cock between.

“I’m gonna pound into this tight ass until you cum all over us. You like that?” The wail Din lets out shoots heat to your cunt, wishing more than anything that you’d opted for a toy that gave you a little stimulation too. Instead you hammer fast and hard, barely pulling out. Your hips and thighs burn with exertion at his bulk on top of you, but he’s frantically bouncing back and rutting his cock into the wet mess your bodies make.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, and you’re not sure if it’s the vocoder but you think his voice sounds watery. “Please, cyar’ika, don’t stop.”

Cupping the back of his neck, damp with sweat, you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

With a handful of final pumps you’re coated in his cum, sliding around your belly as he seizes over and over. Pressing deep, you hold strong against his shuddering body as he finishes. Each weakening thrust draws him down on you, heavier and loose-limbed.

The armor makes it hard to find the soft spots, so you take to kneading the back of his neck and palming his spine. Before his last aftershock, you urge him higher on his knees so you can slip your cock out - slowly, so as not to shock his jellying body. Easing him down, you hold his head in the crook of your neck and settle him on your lap. His hands slide down from the headboard to your shoulders.

Then you hear it. A tiny sniff, then another. You can’t pretend you didn’t notice them so close to your ear. So you gather the broad man in your arms and hold him. His hands don’t know where to rest, finally winding loosely around your lower back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” you tell him again, and the sniffing starts to recede. His body, however, slumps against yours, and it takes all of your strength not to start giggling.

You fucked the Mandalorian right to sleep. Bravo to you.

When Din finally stirs, a deep rumble in his throat, it’s been almost an hour. Your toes are half numb and you’re dying to shift into any other position, but much like a lothcat falling asleep on your lap, you couldn’t bear to move Din. Especially when he started snoring, one of the most endearing and hilarious sounds you’d ever heard him make.

In the time he slept you wondered what happened. What terrible thing hollowed him out and haunts him. Something keeps him up at night, if the depth of his sleep is any indication. Recent, possibly. Traumatic.

Your breath caught in your throat. If something happened to Grogu you know he would have told you. You ask after him all the time, teasing that you’ll be his Auntie (Din always says he has plenty of them across the galaxy).

Had you seen the Razor Crest fly up? Where was that old bird anyway?

What happened in the time since Din last saw you?

The cycle of possibilities always ends the same. Maybe he cares for you in some way, but not enough for you to ask. No matter how much you want to.

A shift on your lap alerts you to Din waking, kneading his shoulders and neck lightly to alert him to your presence. He’s never slept with you before, but it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he’s quick to draw at unexpected circumstances. Of which this one definitely is.

“What…” Din croaks, and if not for the helmet you would have offered him water.

“It’s okay, you’re on my ship. You’re okay.”

It takes Din another minute to realize what’s happened. Him, half naked on your lap with your strap pressing against his ass. You, covered in drying cum beneath him. In a flash he’s swinging his leg off your lap, attempting to stand but obviously they’ve gone as numb as yours because he stumbles and crashes out of sight.

“Oh kriff, are you…?” you start to ask, but as quick as he’s out of sight he pops back up again, tugging up his pants and tucking himself away.

“Sorry, that was…I didn’t mean to…do that.”

All of the heaviness and anger and lust fizzles away to laughter as you try to suppress the ridiculousness of the moment. After a moment of indigent head tilting Din’s shoulder also shake, chuckles fuzzing out of the vocoder.

“Oh Maker, what an understatement that is,” you sigh, wiping your stomach with the edge of your bedsheets. Din visibly cringes, hands on his hips.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes, but you wave it off.

“I’ve had much worse, believe me,” you shoot back. Clean enough, you sit on the edge of the bed and look up at the inscrutable man.

“Want to talk about it?”

Din’s stance shifts, helmet tipping down for a moment before coming back to your face.

“...Not yet.”

You hum and nod. “Well, you know how to find me if you do.”

Din nods. “Thank you.”

As he picks up his effects you shimmy off the harness at the foot of the bed, mentally ticking through the steps to clean everything. Din watches you set it down, stilling until your eyes come back to him.

“It gives you pleasure as well?” he asks, which raises one of your eyebrows.

“I mean, about as much as rhythmically hitting your hips against someone can do.” His posture changes into something hard to decipher, so you continue. “I’ve got a few that do more for me, but it depends on the person I’m with. Comfort, boundaries. As you’re well aware.” You gesture to the armor, his chin tucking down to look at it.

“So you’ve never cum with me?” he asks, and a sudden feverish heat blooms under your skin. Din has a sex appeal you appreciate, but have never acted on beyond what he’s asked for. Now, something’s changed so dizzyingly fast you’re scrambling.

“Well, you’re pretty spent after our sessions. And you leave quickly. I don’t ask for more than you can give.”

Din takes a step towards you, putting his belt and cloak back down.

“What do you ask of other people you fuck?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. How can he turn the tables so quickly and spectacularly? Trying to gain the upper hand, you pull a confident face on and speak as breezily as possible.

“Most can’t get it up twice after I fuck them within an inch of their life, so fingers, tongues, toys, any and all of the above are excellent ways to repay the favor.”

He’s even closer now, and the facade is barely holding up. It’s like the vulnerability he showed you can’t possibly be returned.

“You’ve never asked me,” he says, and you can’t believe there’s a note of regret in his voice. The bed hits the back of your legs, and you steady your voice even though those words make your pussy throb.

“I didn’t think it was allowed.” Your voice drops low as Din steps into your space.

“Difficult, but not forbidden.” Din’s hands come to your shoulders. “Sit down, please.”

Your knees fold so fast you bounce on the bed, looking up at him. He joins you on one knee, hands coming to rest on your thighs.

“I broke my Creed. I would do it again, for the exact same reason, but now that makes me an apostate.” His hands come to the helmet, thumbs tucking underneath the lip.

“Din, what happened?”

He pauses, and you swear you can feel his gaze through that smoky visor.

“Close your eyes.”

Darkness surrounds you, then a hiss and a thunk.

Then the voice of a man you care for, unfiltered and bare.

“I’m not ready for anyone to see my face. But I want this, with you. If you can forgive me.”

You could be dreaming still. It would make just as much sense.

“I forgive you, Din. But just this once,” you sneak in at the end just to hear how melodic his laugh sounds. Then his hand splays over your stomach and urges you to lie back.

“I hope you don’t mind teaching me this. I don’t have much experience,” he says, fire licking through your body as he tugs your leggings and underwear off.

“Don’t worry, you’re a quick learner,” you say breathily.

And when he finally kisses you, sweet with your musk on his tongue and your orgasm dripping from his fingers, you teach him how to do that as well.

END

"I need some distraction Oh a beautiful release Memories seep from my veins Let me be empty Oh and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

Sarah McLachlan, Angel (yeah I know I used the sad dog song)

#PMAMC 2024 #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #prolix fics

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wheelie-sick · 3 months

Text

Explaining dysphagia

Dysphagia is simultaneously a symptom and a diagnosable condition. Most people think of it (if they think of it at all) as the choking on food disease but in reality it's much more complicated than that.

There are four categories of dysphagia: oropharyngeal, esophageal, esophagogastric, and paraesophageal

only two of those categories (oropharyngeal and esophageal) are commonly used and diagnosed so those are the main two I'll be talking about.

The diagnosis of dysphagia is a fairly complicated process involving a lot of radiological testing and things stuck up your nose and down your throat.

lost the source :(

source

the ICD 10 further divides dysphagia into unspecified, oral phase, oropharyngeal phase, pharyngeal phase, pharyngoesophageal phase, and other dysphagia which includes cervical dysphagia and neurogenic dysphagia

Oropharyngeal dysphagia

Oropharyngeal dysphagia occurs when someone has difficulty initiating a swallow. It's often accompanied by coughing, choking, feeling food stick in the throat, and nasal regurgitation. Other symptoms include frequent repetitive swallows, frequent throat clearing, a gargly voice after meals, hoarse voice, nasal speech and dysarthria, drooling, and recurrent pneumonia.

Oropharyngeal dysphagia is diagnosed with a modified barium swallow and/or a transnasal video endoscopy.

Some of the consequences of oropharyngeal dysphagia include aspiration pneumonia, upper respiratory infections, and weight loss. Common treatment includes rehabilitative swallowing exercises, botox, surgery, and/or a feeding tube.

Esophageal Dysphagia

Esophageal dysphagia is dysphagia where there is a problem with the passage of food or liquids through the esophagus between the upper and lower esophageal sphincter. Esophageal dysphagia is usually a result of abnormal motility in the esophagus or a physical obstruction to the esophagus. Symptoms of esophageal dysphagia vary depending on cause.

Motility: People with esophageal motility disorders will experience problems with swallowing both liquids and solids. Motility disorders consist of abnormal numbers of contractions in the esophagus, abnormal velocity of contractions, abnormal force of contractions, abnormal coordinated timing of contractions, or several of these simultaneously. People with esophageal motility disorders may also experience spasms or chest pain.

Obstruction: People with an esophageal obstruction will have more difficulty swallowing solids than liquids.

Some symptoms of both include pain when swallowing, the inability to swallow, sensation of food being stuck in your throat or chest, drooling, and regurgitation.

Esophageal dysphagia can be diagnosed with a barium swallow, upper endoscopy, esophageal manometry, and an endoFLIP.

Some common treatments for esophageal dysphagia include medication, esophageal dilation, surgery, stent placement, and/or a feeding tube.

Esophagogastric Dysphagia

Esophagogastric dysphagia occurs when there is a problem with material passing from the lower esophageal sphincter into the gastric fundus.

Paraesophageal Dysphagia

Paraesophageal dysphagia occurs when the esophagus is narrowed due to extrinsic compression.

The ICD 10 Classifications

Oral phase - difficulty moving food or liquid to the back of the throat

Oropharyngeal phase - difficulty initiating swallowing

Pharyngeal phase - difficulty swallowing when food or liquid is at the top of the throat

Pharyngoesophageal phase - unable to find information

Other dysphagia- cervical dysphagia (caused by problems with the cervical spine) or neurogenic dysphagia (caused by problems with the central or peripheral nervous system)

Sources

x x x

+ some others I definitely (/sarcasm) didn't lose the link to

#dysphagia #neurological disability #physical disability #physically disabled #undescribed

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sisterspooky1013 · 7 months

Text

Gaslight, Chapter 7/48

(On previous posts I listed the chapter count as 58. I was trippin, it’s 48)

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Dana taps her pen rapidly against the desktop, re-reading the chart for the umpteenth time.

Male, age 32, presenting with acute abdominal pain. Blood and urine tests came back normal, as well as x-ray and ultrasound. She puts in an order for a CT scan and an endoscopy, making a note for herself to follow it with a barium swallow if those tests aren’t conclusive.

“Who died?”

Dana looks up to see Dr. Thomas entering their shared office and smiles wearily.

“I guess that isn’t a great joke for a hospital setting, is it?” the younger woman adds, taking a seat behind her desk and cracking open a can of soda.

Her copper-skinned face and wide, bright smile had been a welcome second impression after Dana’s initial entry into St. Agnes, and the two became fast friends. Thick-waisted and ample-breasted, Dr. Thomas insisted that Dana call her by her first name, Tiffany, and simply smiled sadly and told her it didn’t matter when Dana asked if they had met during her previous tenure there.

“Sorry if I’m being moody,” Dana says with a sigh, leaning back in her seat. “I didn’t sleep well last night and it’s my husband’s birthday today—I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

Tiffany arches a curious eyebrow as she logs into her computer.

“Does he have unrealistic birthday expectations or something?” she posits. “One of those people that expects to be treated like royalty?”

Dana shakes her head.

“It has nothing to do with him. I think I’m just putting a lot of pressure on myself.”

What she doesn’t tell Tiffany is that as she and Cal have become more physically intimate over the course of the last week—mostly just kissing, and one instance of wine inspired dry humping on the living room couch—her dreams have intensified to the point that they wake her several times at night.

Sometimes they, she and the man, are in the kitchen with the green countertops. She’s washing dishes and he wraps his arms around her waist, or they are dancing in the middle of the room, sometimes kissing as they move across the floor. She can see his face, his hooded green eyes and full mouth, his impish smile. He’s tall, close in height to Cal, and sometimes he is walking her slowly backwards, grabbing at her ass and pulling her close so she can feel him, stiff against her belly. There is always music, though she can’t quite hear it; she senses that it’s there. In some dreams he’s looking up at her from between her thighs, in others his cock is hovering inches from her face. But it’s the ones where she’s riding him, feeling him not just physically but emotionally, that affect her the most. Those are the dreams that pull her from a dead sleep flushed and humming, that send Cal down the hallway to check on her after another nightmare. They are the reason she can’t quite bring herself to return to the master bedroom, for fear that she will call out the other man’s name in her sleep. But then, at least, she’d know what his name is.

“Men are easy,” Tiffany says, giving her a meaningful look. “Give him a steak dinner and a hummer and you’re good to go til next year.”

Dana barks a surprised laugh, but her belly twists. She has the passing thought that maybe being fully intimate with Cal will relieve her of these sordid memories, these haunting dreams. But at the same time, they feel like all she has left of something that was clearly very important to her at one time.

“We’re getting dinner at Mercato,” she supplies. “Have you been there?”

“Yeah, Rick’s taken me there a few times. It’s nice,” Tiffany answers. “Do you have a sitter for the kids?”

“They’ll be at the neighbors’ while we’re out to dinner, but it’s a school night so we can’t stay out too late.”

“Sounds like fun,” Tiffany quips, then stands and drapes her stethoscope over her neck. “I have rounds. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

Tiffany gets as far as the threshold of the door, then stops and looks back at her with a serious expression. Dana lifts her eyebrows in question and waits.

“Don’t forget to cup the balls,” Tiffany says, holding her hand palm up with the fingers curled as though cradling a pair of testicles.

Dana’s groan at her tasteless joke is cut short by the clip of the door closing.

“You look great,” Cal says uncomfortably, and Dana smiles demurely.

“Thanks,” she replies, pulling in a breath and looking around the restaurant.

It’s small, only a dozen tables or so, and the ambiance is decidedly romantic: low lighting, flickering candles, smooth jazz music lilting from cleverly hidden speakers. She tugs on the neckline of her dress, which is a low scoop that reveals the tops of her pushed-up breasts. She’d felt good when she put it on, admiring her silhouette in the bathroom mirror, but now that Cal’s eyes keep falling down to her chest as they try, awkwardly, to make conversation, she feels exposed and vulnerable. They’ve only gotten as far as water glasses on the table beside their menus, and already she can’t wait for this meal to be over.

“How was work today?” he attempts, and she remembers Tiffany’s advice regarding his gift.

“It was okay,” she says blandly, and again they fall into tense silence. Cal’s shoulder jumps and his head quirks to the side, and she knows she’s making him uncomfortable with her own discomfort. “Um, I didn’t really know what to get you for your birthday—” she starts, but Cal stops her.

“You don’t need to get me anything, Dana,” he insists, and she nods once.

“I didn’t, actually,” she admits, and he smiles shyly. “But I had this idea that maybe we could sort of—recreate something. An event that was important but that I can’t remember. Kind of a do-over.”

His smile blooms into a delighted grin, and she feels a warm flush in her belly.

“Really? Like what?”

Dana shrugs. “I don’t know, you tell me. This is something I can’t help you with, unfortunately.”

Cal sits back in his seat, pondering with a playful glint in his eye. The waiter approaches their table and asks about a drink order, and Cal turns to Dana.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, and she flashes her eyes over to the waiter in embarrassment.

“Right now?” she asks in a low voice.

“I apologize,” Cal directs to the apron-clad man waiting beside the table expectantly. “There’s somewhere else we need to be.”

He tosses a twenty dollar bill on the table top and stands up, extending his hand to Dana. She takes it and follows him out of the restaurant, choosing to trust him enough not to ask where they’re going.

When Cal pulls the front door of O’Blarney’s open, smoke seeps out and curls into the evening air. She walks in and is greeted by all the trappings of a dive bar: pool tables, dart boards, worn down pinball machines, and the saturated stink of cigarettes and hops. The floor is covered in patchy green carpet and the man behind the bar looks like he’s ready to pose for a mugshot.

Cal directs her to a table and then goes to the bar to get them drinks, returning with a beer for him and a cocktail for her. She takes an experimental sip and smiles with pleasant surprise.

“Gin and tonic?” she asks, and he bobs his head.

“That’s what you used to drink when we met,” he says, scooting his chair closer to hers.

She looks around at the clientele. The bar is relatively busy for a Monday evening, and most of the patrons have the comfortable posture of regulars. A swarthy man in a camo jacket leers at her, and Cal slings his arm over the back of her chair posessively.

“So, what are we recreating?” she asks, taking another sip.

“This is where we met,” he tells her fondly, and her eyebrows lift in surprise.

“Here?”

Cal nods, clearly enjoying her reaction.

“Tell me,” she encourages him, touching his knee lightly for emphasis. He covers her hand with his and holds it there, and she feels a little flutter of excitement.

“I used to come here all the time,” he begins. “Me and my buddy Ryan would come almost every night after work to play pool or just talk. I started seeing you come in every once in a while with another regular, this woman Erin, do you remember her?”

“Erin?” Dana repeats. “I don’t think so.”

“Anyway, you were here with Erin one night and I decided to make my move.” Dana smiles at him and he shakes his head dismissively. “I totally struck out. I think I asked you if you were new to the area or some cliche bullshit, and you pretty much brushed me off. But I saw you again a couple weeks later so I tried just introducing myself, and you were polite but clearly not interested.”

“Ouch,” Dana says with a sympathetic pout.

“I know, it was rough. But there was just something about you. I don’t know, it just felt like I needed to know you, so I decided to go big—”

“Oh, no,” Dana groans, but she’s smiling around her anguished expression and Cal laughs.

“I know, I had no idea who I was dealing with. And Ryan was a horrible influence. He got me all hyped up on this “Say Anything” style gesture that would show you that I was worth giving a chance. And of course I got totally hammered first, for courage.”

“Oh, Cal,” Dana says, pressing one hand to her cheek. “You did something ridiculous, didn’t you?”

“I got up on that stage,” he says, pointing to a small elevated platform in the corner of the room, “even though it was not karaoke night, and I, uh—I sang you a song.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did. Very off key. But the bartender was kind enough to play the song so I had some accompaniment.”

“What was the song?” she asks hesitantly.

Cal clears his throat, closes his eyes, and sings, “Hands, touching hands. Reaching out. Touching me, touching youuuuu.”

“You’re joking,” Dana says flatly, and he opens his eyes and looks at her.

“Sweet Caroline, bah bah bah. Good times never seemed so good,” he croons creakily.

A genuine grin stretches across her face, and Cal elbows her in encouragement.

“So good, so good, so good,” she completes softly.

“I’ve been inclined,” he says in a whisper as he leans in, “to believe they never would.”

She accepts his kiss, returning it with a few soft smooches befitting a public setting. He pulls away, eyeing her with nothing short of adoration, and she finds herself feeling quite happy.

“And I went for that?” she questions cheekily.

“Absolutely not,” he answers, and she laughs. “By the time I stumbled off the stage you were gone. But I guess it did make some kind of impression, because about a week later Ryan and I were sitting over there shooting the shit,” he says with a thumb hitched toward a table near the wall, “and the waitress brought a drink over courtesy of a mystery woman at the bar.”

Dana makes a face, impressed with her own forwardness.

“And the rest is history?” she asks, and Cal bobs his head side to side.

“Somewhat. We stayed up all night talking, and you actually overslept and missed an interview,” he explains.

“What for?” she asks.

“The FBI, of all things. You said you weren’t totally sold on it being the right path for you, and when you woke up and realized you’d missed it, you decided it was fate.”

“Fate?” she repeats incredulously. Cal shrugs.

“Your words, not mine.”

“Hm,” she says, pondering.

She does remember the call from the FBI and setting up an interview. Her father was incensed that she was even considering it.

“Tell me about when you met my dad,” she asks, her voice suddenly tight.

“Oof,” Cal says with a grimace, and Dana mirrors it. “It was a little bit rough. He asked me about my family and where I’m from, which didn’t set us off on a great foot.”

“You lost your parents young,” she says, and he realizes she doesn’t remember the details.

“I never even met my dad,” he tells her, and her hand slides sympathetically back over his knee. “My mom was a junkie, and she OD’d when I was thirteen. I was in and out of foster care until I turned eighteen and joined the army.”

“I’m sure Dad liked that, though?” she says hopefully.

“Yes, once I was able to get that far and tell him about some of my accomplishments, he came around a little. But then I got you pregnant, and we weren’t married, and that knocked me down quite a few pegs.”

“Would it be wrong to say that I’m glad I don’t remember having to tell him that?” she asks with a pained smile.

“I only wish I were so lucky,” he replies, and they sit there for a moment, sharing smiles and affectionate glances. Cal blinks and shakes his head a little as though suddenly dazed.

“What?”

“I just got the most intense sensation of deja vu,” he says. “It happens to me a lot, actually.”

“Perhaps we’re living in an alternate universe,” she suggests, and he eyes her skeptically before he checks his watch.

“It’s almost eight, we better go get those rugrats to bed,” he says, and they stand, settling the bill before they walk out of the bar arm in arm.

After washing her face and pulling on an oversized sleep shirt, Dana turns down the guest bed and slides under the covers.

She thinks about her date with Cal, about her appointment with Michelle tomorrow, about Abby attending summer camp in a couple weeks when school gets out. She thinks about how grounded she’s beginning to feel, though the edges may always be fuzzy, and contentment washes through her body as she relaxes into the bed.

From down the hall, she hears a persistent murmur, like someone is talking. There is no TV in the master bedroom, and it almost sounds like maybe Cal is on the phone. She rises from the bed and creeps quietly down the hall, straining her ears. As she nears the bedroom door she recognizes that the sound is music, and she knocks gently.

“Yeah,” Cal says quietly. “You can come in.”

She pushes the door open and spots him sitting in an armchair near the window. He’s still wearing his slacks and dress shirt, his loosened tie hanging limply around his neck. He’s slumped down in the chair, his long legs extended before him and his elbows propped on the armrests, fingers steepled under his chin. His eyes are slightly swollen, his mouth set. He looks miserable.

Sweet Caroline, good times never seemed so good. I’ve been inclined to believe they never would.

She follows the sound to a small boombox on the dresser, then looks back to Cal.

“Are you okay?” she asks gently, still standing in the doorway.

He nods, then sniffs, and his jaw jerks to the side.

Dana enters the room, pushing the door closed behind her, and approaches him. He watches her with an anguished expression as she kneels down on the floor beside the chair, resting one hand on his knee.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, surprised that he’s not feeling the same buoyant optimism after their date.

Cal shakes his head solemnly, then reaches out and pushes her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t want to put my shit on you, Dana. Don’t worry about it,” he says, then attempts a smile.

“You’re not putting anything on me,” she says. “Please, tell me what happened.”

His watery smile widens, and her heart aches.

“Nothing happened, mija. We had a great night. It was a great birthday. It’s just hard sometimes, you know?”

She nods. She does know.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and he closes his eyes and grimaces.

“Please stop saying that,” he whispers.

She has the impulse to apologize again, so she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. She thinks about the man from her dreams, how he feels so close in her mind and yet she can’t reach him. She thinks that maybe that’s how it is for Cal: she’s right here, but she’s also eight years away.

She shuffles forward on her knees, navigating around one of his legs until she’s positioned between them, her hands resting on the tops of his thighs. Cal opens his eyes and watches her, his jaw twitching. Dana swallows, tamping down the butterflies erupting in her belly as she slides her hands up to his hips. He tenses, but doesn’t move. His breathing is shallow, coming out in urgent little puffs. She hooks her fingers under the waist of his slacks and meets his eye.

“Let’s go to bed,” she says huskily, and he shifts a little in his seat.

“Are you sure?” he asks, but she can already see him responding in her periphery. She knows how much he wants her, and she wants to want him too. She wants to feel the way she feels in her dreams: seen, adored, worshiped.

She nods.

He rises slowly from the chair and she stands, wrapping her arms around his waist as he cradles her face in his hands. And she does feel adored by him, she has since the day she came home. She just wasn’t ready to accept it.

And when I hurt, hurting runs off my shoulders. How can I hurt when holding you?

He walks her backwards toward the bed, lays her down gently, touches her like she is the most precious thing on earth. He worships her, he loves her, he makes her come.

And all the while she is thinking. Thinking of him—he. His hands on her hips and his mouth on her ear, and the way his body fits into hers like a missing piece of a puzzle.

She sleeps in the master bedroom, Cal wrapped around her like a vine. Awash in dopamine and oxytocin, she prays that she won’t always long for her dreams.

She flexes her hips forward and back, her slick lips sliding over his shaft as he kisses her sweetly. She wants him, and she feels ready—so ready. She feels the press of his head against her opening and she arches her back, angling herself just right, and he begins to slide into her. There is a stretch, a sting, and she gasps a little even as she’s still taking him deeper, wanting more of him. They stay still for moments, panting against each other’s mouths, until he sits up and takes her face in his hands. His kisses grow urgent, needy, and she rises up halfway, falling back down with a little whimper. He moans, his hips jumping off the bed, trying to get more of her. She’s never felt so wanted in her entire life.

“Fuck, Scully. I love you,” he groans, and she feels herself rising, gathering, melting into him. Becoming one.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files

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