#min Pins

[d00mbandit]

[thirdchildart]

i really loved you, y'know?

[flying-bi-son]

It’s bi visibility day and y’all mfs gon see me today

[whorishirishpunk]

my battle jacket! pls excuse lack of patches on the back, i started this last friday. pretty proud of it thus far. any tips?

[faggotdraws]

Don't want to weep for you, I don't want to know I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow

Mojo Pin - Jeff Buckley

[heavenlyyshecomes]

recs directory

all my book / articles / film recs !! please check before sending an ask for recs <3 (this are mostly from 2020-22 so don't hesitate to ask for newer recs)

last updated: 13.04.2024

books

essay collections

short books for a reading slump

old wlw books

on generational trauma

social media accs for book recs women in translation MET art books on loneliness / pt. 2 lithub syllabi arthurian + atmospheric on internet culture gentle books underrated favs 2022 reads fav prose quarterly book recs summer reading list: 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024 monsoon reading list: 2022 yearly tbr: 2022, 2023 random fiction, pt. 2, pt. 3*, pt. 4*, pt. 5*, nonfiction yearly fav reads: 2019*, 2021 on colour theory* drive link to books*

sff recs related tags: ref: mine, ref, book recs, book log

articles

misc readings tag random recs

places to read articles related tags: readings, articles

films

short films horror films random recs fav first watches: 2022 related tags: movie log

[kirby-the-gorb]

[preg-canis-limus]

I can't help but think about a corrupt doctor playing aloof.

He was amicable, if not a bit standoffish; he even helped you and your husband with "fertility treatments" so you could get pregnant in the first place; how could you not trust him? He's one of your neighbors and has been a bit of a character since you first moved into this space backwoods neighborhood, only catching glimpses of him in your periphery before finally catching him tending to herbs in his garden and starting a conversation. One thing led to another, and you got close enough to accept his help for your pregnancy. He's affordable, courteous, and, despite being a little... off, he even makes house calls. So, you keep going back while your stomach swells and when your chest grows too big and sensitive for any binders or sports bras.

He's been a big help during your rather difficult pregnancy. You kept falling ill for one reason or another. A weakened immune system causes you to get sick easily, and morning sickness makes your stomach weak. Your body was admittedly frail, and here you were, putting it through the wringer. Still, the doctor always reassured you, even encouraged you, saying your body was a "prime candidate to produce offspring," that's a way to word a compliment. He reliably comes to the rescue with quick remedies and strong medicine to soothe your stomach and mind. More so than your husband was doing, providing almost no help until the doctor arrived and waiting for the doctor to give the ok before immediately leaving you to your lonesome. The doctor had become your biggest comfort at this time, promptly responding to your calls and providing plenty of assurances.

The doctor was rather peculiar, he’s actually pretty shy and despite being experienced, his demeanor was reserved outside of his work. It explains how you haven't been able to get a good look at him before you met, at least. He often stumbled during casual conversation, and his eyes didn't really meet yours. He takes measured gazes when working, but when he’s not, his eyes flicker here and there as if he is trying to avoid looking at something obscene. You would be slightly offended if it wasn’t for the quality of care he gave you, memorizing details to an almost scary degree, practically predicting what ailments you would have before you had them, and swiftly treating you. You had offhandedly muttered about your medication to deal with nausea once, not even talking to him really, and he stopped by the next day with some fresh-grown ginger. He really can be sweet deep down, despite the strange behavior.

With one thing or another, you kept calling and grew accustomed to this somewhat awkward doctor and his equally awkward methods. The medicine he provided worked, and he was the closest help you would get out here, so you weren't going to complain much, but you had to admit, some of his procedures were a bit odd; boy, did you have stories.

He was thorough in his work and examinations, checking you head to toe, in every crevasse, and you mean EVERY CREVASSE. You remember the first time he gave you an in-depth exam, and, surprise, surprise, his hands were cold, causing you to jump slightly. It was strange feeling those cold hands on your oversensitive hole the first time, but you stomached it and allowed him to continue. He had actually stopped when you flinched... how considerate. he even had you alter your wardrobe and check your clothes. No more jeans and stiff fabrics, only loose, thin clothing, even when your bump was relatively small, for better movement and thermoregulation, he said. He followed up on the clothes matter as well, asking how you felt, if you liked them, and if they were accommodating your pregnancy properly. You said yes, they were fine, that was truthful, but it was somewhat difficult to switch to thinner underwear, with your cunt producing more fluid and essentially soaking through them, that was truthful. From then on, the doctor made the, in your opinion, crazy request for a pair of soaked underwear. Increased discharge production is normal, and he wanted to test it to make sure it was healthy. You were incredibly apprehensive at first, the idea of giving a random man your underwear was horrifying, and you made your thoughts known. He then explained that he wasn't some random man but your doctor and provided a long list of all the risks to your pregnancy if he left anything to chance. All of what he said was truthful; he wasn't some random man, and your body was too feeble to risk it, so you relented, giving him a pair of your underwear and watching as he put it in a biohazard bag and tucked it into his work briefcase. At least he was professional about it, but you never got that pair back.

One time, the baby was just too active and made your body sore, so he came over and gave you some light painkillers and even offered a back massage, which you enthusiastically accepted. It was a rare occurrence that the doctor offered to touch you for something outside of medical obligations. He even briefly lifted your stomach to help take the weight off your back. You found yourself back to his chest, so lost in the relief that you almost missed the sound of sniffing behind you. Was he sick? You hoped what he smelled wasn't you; it would be so embarrassing if, after getting so physically close, you smelled bad. He didn't bring it up afterward, and you didn't either. During his next visit, he brought this strange salve with him, saying that since the baby was growing and already so active, the skin on your stomach would become more taut and sensitive, so it was meant to moisturize the skin. He offered to help with the first application, and you accepted, you didnt see why not. You raised your shirt over your bump, just under your new breasts, and that focused gaze instantly turned to your stomach. It sort of startled you how quickly he honed in on you, but you supposed it was his job; what is a doctor if not studious. The salve smelt strange, nothing too strong, subtle, and actually kind of familiar, but you couldn't quite pin it down. He continued, putting a small dollop on your stomach and rubbing it in. he took his time, being thorough and making sure it covered your whole stomach, gaze not straying from it. You felt kind of shy at that. You know he's your doctor, but did he have to look so close? He was usually rather reserved about touching you so closely. You sat as he worked, rubbing the salve into your skin and even massaging your stomach for a bit. Only after a while did you shift in your seat, and this seemed to gain his attention. Promptly' standing up and clearing his throat, avoiding your eyes again, he declared himself done, telling you the proper dosage, and he was on his way. That was... strange. It's not too out of character for the awkward doctor, but you didn't expect him to get so... intimate.

Another time, you found your chest terribly sore. The doctor came over and told you it was fine, just some compacted milk in your newly swelled breasts, which were unused to being so full. Unsatisfied with that answer, you groaned at the strain. It didn’t matter if it was fine, it still hurt. So, you asked if the good doctor could do something. He explained that the milk just needs to be released, either by pump or by hand compression. You didn’t own a pump, and you didn’t know how to get the milk yourself, so you asked for his help. At this, he almost lost it, stuttering out verbal instructions and growing redder in the face by the second. Ultimately, you interrupted and told him you trusted him, he was your doctor, after all. Why get so flustered now of all times?

Flashing some sad puppy dog eyes, you managed to pull him to sit next to you. Pulling off your top, he wraps an arm around you, cupping your breasts and rolling them in his palms. You flinched at his doctor-like frigid hands, the feeling on such a sensitive area surprised you. After they warmed up, he got a gentle grasp on one of your nipples before looking at you for confirmation. You give the affirmative, and he rubs and massages the bud between his fingers, eliciting a soft groan from you, this time not from discomfort but from the strangeness of the feeling. It felt good. Were your nipples always this sensitive? It must have been the pregnancy. He was so warm and so close to you at this moment that you could feel yourself relaxing by the second. He continued his caresses for a bit before pinching at the nipple, drawing out beads of milk. You let out a gasped moan at that, and he stops, letting go of your nipple. Snapping out of your stupor from the sudden lack of sensation, you, a little bit too enthusiastically, ask him to continue, reassuring him that the touch felt good. He continued on like this, massaging, pinching, and milking one breast after the other until the soreness was alleviated. It was warm and comfortable with your back against his chest, it lulled you into a kind of trance. You felt a bit floaty afterward, tingles of pleasure still flowing down your spine, and he offered to make this a regular occurrence since it seemed to alleviate more than just bodily soreness. You accepted, but you had to admit the scenario was a bit weird. The doctor would be coming over weekly to milk you, maybe it's more regular in the practice than you think, he's the medical professional not you.

You grew fond of the touches despite yourself, and you supposed, despite the initial rejection, he was OK with the closeness too, if not a little fond as well. Your husband hadn’t touched you much since your bump really started showing, so you’ve been, admittedly, a little deprived. Despite his cold hands always making you jump for examinations - really, he examined your entire body so frequently you would have thought to have been used to it by now - they were a comfort on your sensitive skin. When they finally warmed up, if he kept his hands on you that long, they were incredibly soothing. You might even say you’ve come to look forward to the touch… maybe… not out loud, though.

Your relationship grew over time, and his checkups became regular enough that he would even stop by on his own occasionally to check in and then promptly leave. He’s rather skittish as well, frequently at your house but never staying for too long, he sometimes leaves before you can make the two of you tea. You can’t say you don’t miss the company, your husband hasn’t been showing you much attention, and you find yourself somewhat starved for interaction. You did whatever you could to keep the doctor a second longer, asking for an additional check, asking him to reach something you couldn’t “with this big belly in the way, after all.” You even invited him to feel the baby kick after a routine checkup once. It's kind of cute how shy he is, his ears turning red when inspecting your belly.

And after a while, it seems like he caught on. Despite still being a bit awkward, he indulged your whims. Stuttering facts about botany, anatomy (yours included), and how his day was when you asked for any conversation. Helping clean up around the house, which you thanked him with a cup of tea. With those intense eyes, he even rubbed your stomach when you invited him and acquiesced to apply the salve for you on occasion, sometimes the baby bucked at his touch. However, he still made sure to keep boundaries on the rare occasion your husband was around. The doctor brought by gifts and trinkets he happened upon in town for you since you were, by his advice, homebound.

He gave you a lovely red scarf and said he thought it complimented your style and that you would like it. While the doctor was handling matters in the kitchen, you were sat in an armchair in the living room, off your swollen ankles, deciding what to do with the scarf and what outfits you could make. Absent-mindedly toying with it, you ended up tying it around your stomach, a nice bow situated on top. While you’re messing with the loops, the doctor steps away from the kitchen, "T-the dishes are all clean and put away. Is there anyth-" he pauses once his eyes land on you, gaze shifting to your stomach and the big red bow on top. You looked down at the bow. “Oh, thank you so much for your help again, doctor. I was just playing around a bit, trying to figure out styles I liked.” You giggled to yourself and looked back up at him, but what you saw startled you a bit. He was still looking at your stomach, unmoving, but his gaze had grown dark. You couldn’t read the emotion behind his stare, but it was a little unnerving. Did you do something wrong?

You cleared your throat. “U-um, doctor? Is something wrong? D-do you not like it?” You meekly question, and it snaps him out of his stupor. He averts his gaze and clears his throat, hiding a blush behind his fist. “Apologies, I’ve got a bit on my mind today, and I just remembered something.” Oh. “Oh, ok.” And that was that. He soon dismissed himself, and you were left alone again. That was so strange, it was almost like he was glaring… You pushed it out of your mind, justifying it as one of the doctor's quirks with eye contact, and never brought it up again. You didn’t want to risk scaring him off or, worse, scaring yourself over what is probably nothing. You liked your dynamic already as it was and didn’t want to lose the company.

One day, when you were about 7 months along, you were lying in bed with a mean stomachache and a light fever. Panting heavily, you're wearing nothing but a thin oversized shirt, overheating and sweating through everything else. Your husband is nowhere in sight, having left for a trip with his friends over the weekend, leaving the doctor to tend to you in your bedroom. Lying on your side, the doctor’s back was facing towards you, writing something you couldn’t see on a clipboard. Your stomach churned again, causing you to flinch and groan. You lift up your shirt, hoping the cool air will do something to soothe the ache, but to no avail. It was so uncomfortable, and your body was so sore. At moments like these, you felt so alone, so vulnerable, so weak. You hated how your body seemed to be capable of almost anything but this, unable to support this one desire. Had the doctor’s assurances been false, could you really go on like this? You open your eyes again and find that the doctor is crouched in front of you, looking at you with that measured gaze.

This time, you meet his eyes again, and it’s once again unreadable and just as dark as before, but they look different somehow as if communicating something to you. The good doctor who has cured your ailments and soothed your stomach again and again. The one who spent time with you, touched you, and cared for you, understanding all of your needs before you even made them known. He’s close, right in front of you, and you’re in need. So fragile in that moment, you whimper and reach out for his hand. He doesn’t stop you, even meeting you halfway, putting his hand in yours, and cooperating when you lead it to your uneasy belly. His cold hands were a comfort to your overheating skin. Understanding your needs like always, he gently rubbed your stomach back and forth, easing it across the sensitive skin. You whimpered again from the soft, calming assurance the reliable doctor always gave. He reached another cool hand up and placed the back of it against your forehead, probably to measure your temperature, but you didn’t care at this moment, leaning into the soothing touch you missed so much at that moment. "There you go," his voice croaked from lack of use. "You’ll be fine. You’ll both be ok with me." you relaxed further into his touch. "Just rest... you’re in my hands now."

[woodelf68]

Love the amount of character you imbued in this.

Dogust day one: Min pin! 🖤🧡

[juliangirlblancas]

[arsenicflame]

Edward "human weighted blanket" Teach & Izzy "crush my soul out of my body" Hands

[invertedspoon]

oh fuck get that blonde man outta my head

[boraababy]

I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC x CYCLING

I Sing the Body Electric by Walt Whitman, 1855 / a / b / c / d,e / f / g,h,i / j,k / l / m / n / o / p / q / r / s / t /

[tea-time-terrier]

Night walk with the kid.

[saltoru]

i have way too many thoughts about slow burn gojo x reader from a baker’s family and runs a small family bakery

[renbyten]

Colored up a bunch of character concept sketches for a new story/thing I built around some of my Monster Girl designs from March. Having a lot of silly fun with this one :)