#thick white discharge

[xazse]

Pls breeding with hybrid Gojo. You can chose whatever, I just need to see this 😭😭🙏🏼 where Suguru leaves them and thinks all will be good and they’ll behave only to find out months later ups, there’s a baby!

Warnings. Breeding + Puppyhybrid!Satoru x PuppyHybrid!Reader + fem!reader + pregnancy + not proofread + (I don’t know how to write for babies 😭) dunno if I like the ending it feels kinda sad? Lmk and I’ll revise it.

“Toru, Toru you can’t…”

“Please just this once, feels’ really good doesn’t it?”

“Suguru will get mad”

Here Satoru was balls deep inside of you begging to take the condom off, he hadn’t ever asked before so why is he so curious right now? The little snake chose the perfect time to ask when you’re so vulnerable, under him taking his thick cock and he’s facing you and you’re a sucker for Satoru’s sweet pout.

“Suguru isn’t here, he won’t know promise.”

“Satoru-“ He starts decorating your faces with kisses and whimpering how badly he wants to really feel you. The way he’s biting your neck is making you lose all sense of responsibility.

“Okay Toru but just this once, never again.”

He wastes no time in removing the condom and lining himself up with your weeping hole again, his tip pushes past again and god does it feel so damn good when he’s fully inside of you, you can feel every ridge and every vein of his thick cock.

Satoru doesn’t fair any better four strokes later and the hybrid is spilling inside you, it’s not a weird feeling either, it felt right? It feels really good.

That one time turns into many times during that same week, Satoru pumping you full with his cum over and over, you can’t say no because you like it just as much as he does.

Right now Suguru can do nothing but stare ahead at you in the hospital bed and Satoru on your side: holding a little baby.

He can’t do anything but stare at the little baby in your arms with Satoru’s white colored hair and your matching eyes, he stares at an exhausted you cuddling the little thing up to your face and showing the baby off to all the nurses in the room.

Suguru is going goddamn insane in his mind. he’s remaining calm as to not ruin the atmosphere, he’s trying his hardest not to yell at you and Satoru for something he made sure was perventable.

The baby is a girl you both decided to name “Aya” Suguru wont say it out loud but Aya is an adorable cutie, she has her little ears and an equally small tail that matches yours.

A few days later you’re discharged, he knows you and Satoru can now feel how heavy the air is, the drive home is quiet save for Aya’s light snoring.

“Suguru-“

“How exactly and where are we meant to put her?”

You and Satoru go silent as he goes on his smidge

“I can’t believe-“ he can’t even finish his sentence he’s so appalled at the audacity, he feels like a disappointed father right now and you’re both around the same age as him! How is that possible?!

You both look way different than you did at the hospital right now, wearing a sorrowful expression that differs from the bright smiles you had because of the birth of your daughter.

It’s too late to go back in time so Suguru has to suck it up and help with parenthood.

[sunshine-for-serotonin]

I was wondering how Erik would react to his Beloved while ovulating or being clingy ect due to lack of sleep? (You don’t have to that’s totally up to you!!)

Headcannons, let’s go~ TMI, but it’s my ovulation week so that’s what you’re getting :) but don’t worry, you’re both clingy afterwards.

Oh boy, poor, poor Erik-

While Erik is a true polymath and has extensive knowledge on anatomy and science, he’s never actually had a partner to know what ovulation is like first hand.

However, as true as that may be, he’s going to be all over you as soon as you make any implication of having a need, whether that be to make love to him or even for just some chocolates or cuddle time.

You’ll find him nervously hovering over you, his hands flitting about as though scared to touch you until they come to gently hold your hands for about five seconds before he starts fussing again.

He’s so, so, so incredibly sweet, fretting over you, your needs, and your comfort obsessively. Sometimes you have to put on that tone of voice and tell him to sit back and relax for a bit. Maybe you sit by him on his organ bench as he writes music and plays the keys to try and help calm him down.

Erik is incredibly desperate to please, but you may find that he is one of this partners who’s very like “it’s not uteri, it’s uterus”, so expect him to match your horny levels as best he can. (Keep in mind he’s older and doesn’t have nearly as much stamina, you’ll have to kind of pace things throughout the day if you want to pull more than four orgasms from him).

You know that white goopy stuff that gets mixed in with your normal discharge? Don’t expect any fear of it from him. Erik knows it’s natural, and will still gladly go down on you like you’re his favorite meal anytime, any day. (Because, let’s be real now, you very much are).

He actually finds the difference in your taste fascinating, and you’ll find that he eats you out much more voraciously when you’re ovulating.

Expect Erik to extremely in tune with how you’re feeling physically. If your breasts are a bit tender or sore, you can expect that this will be one of the only times you can really keep him from latching. Of course, even if you can’t handle him nursing, he’s more than happy to gently cup your breasts and massage them for you. He’d actually probably explode though if you asked him to use lotion or anything.

As mentioned previously, Erik is overly eager to please and down to tend to your every need. He has absolutely no problem getting on top and doing classic missionary or something similar, rutting into you as the most musical little whines and moans leave his malformed lips.

You do have to remind him he can’t come inside during this week though. He’s normally very good at respecting that rule, but on occasion he finds himself getting so overwhelmed that he cums out of nowhere, thick hot ropes of white spurting inside of you and filling you to the brim as he keens and tears wind down his ruined cheeks.

Of course, you must have pity on him. He won’t be anywhere near able to keep up with you, and you really have to hammer it into his skull that it’s necessary for him to tell you when he needs a break and that you realize you’re borderline insatiable in this state so he needn’t overdo himself.

Of course he’s going to try to anyway though.

Please reassure him that he’s adequate enough and that anyone would be hard pressed to keep up with you in this state, he really does feel horrible for feeling like he can’t make you come or please you enough.

This and when you’re on your monthly are occasions where he simply won’t budge on handling aftercare duties, and he’ll wail if you try to take care of him instead of you letting him take care of you for once.

Erik goes for the full works. Bath, chocolates, he makes you your favorite meals throughout the week and always makes excess in case you find your appetite increased. He even pulls out a stunning nightgown made of the most comfortable material money can buy that he literally made from scratch for when you just want to be comfy or are getting ready for sleep.

And of course once you’re properly taken care of and sated, Erik loves nothing more than to lay down in your arms, curled up against your chest as you both drift off with the dreams of seeing each other tomorrow all over again.

[mrspeechless]

She could have sworn she heard it again. The familiar sound of footsteps trampling carpets of autumn leaves just outside of her window. How many seasons had gone by with that distinct crunch blocked out, barred from existence, as disregardable white noise? But to the world outside of the damnably insulated walls of her home it was her existence that struggled to be noticed.

The muscles of her neck, despite their dull constant ache, heaved up her head in a struggle that made the task look herculean. Her left cheek, swollen above her gag, was a tad damp from the wet splotch on the rug she'd been sobbing into. Her back arched slightly into the tension of her cruelly diligent hogtie, allowing her lungs to siphon air in deeper measure through a pair of flared nostrils. If someone, anyone, was walking by she needed them to hear her.

For a half-step her eyes, stung red by tears, blinked closed as the collection of air in her chest wound itself in a dense bubble. Her eyes flew open once more as all that precious oxygen was blasted like cannonfire out of her chest, a grapeshot of noise filtered through exhausted and strained vocal chords. From her perspective that scream was like dragon's breath, a shrill and horrible cry that under any other circumstance could have laid waste to a small village of innocents. But this dragon was muzzled, and the barrier of her gag once again kept her fiery shouts for salvation tucked in the bowels of her throat, penetrating the seemingly indomitable walls of her gag in meek, stifled bleats more befitting of a lost lamb.

Indeed this gag was her mortal enemy. The very same pair of cozy socks she always wore to fend off the chills of upcoming winter months had been unceremoniously seized from her feet, bundled together, and rammed deep into her mouth. The unwanted intrusion was like a dense boulder that only grew heavier over the hours of uncontrollably salivating against the sordid laundry. She yearned with every tear that rolled down the surface of her gag for the relief of being able to rest the expended and weary muscles of her jaw.

The gag's true malevolence, however, was made manifest in the bands of microfoam that clutched round her head like a python squeezing the life from its latest catch. Her captor seemed intent to fuse it to her flesh in the way that the gagging tape felt glued like a second skin over her swollen cheeks and uncontrollably spread lips. The sensation of it all, thick articles invading and plugging the entirety of her mouth and cruel clutches of sealed bandaging smothering an entire half of her face, working in vicious orchestration to deny her a right once believed to be inalienable. In doing so her monstrous gag maintains her victimhood as those footsteps continue to crush fallen leaves along the path away from her home. What followed could be unceremoniously classified as a tantrum if the consequences were not so dire. Her body writhed in desperate spasms against stalwart ropework. Her limbs ached and her joints chafed, but the barely audible squeals that filtered through the shield of tape came not because of pain. Frustration, fear, anger, all loaded into the barrel of her heart and discharged fiercely into the small bubble of space she could wriggle around in. Shivers that attempted to manifest at the memory of how his hands touched her body, and uncomfortable clamminess of his hot breath whispering his degenerate intentions in her ear, were repurposed into raging and desperate tugs at the hogtie that bent her figure so wickedly. Exhaustion would take her with nothing of substance to show for it. Just like before the muscles in her neck give in. Her head lays flat on its side, the flesh of her cheek acquainting itself to the familiar damp spot on the rug. She clutches her eyes shut tightly, but cannot stop them from contributing to that dampness with yet another pitifully defeated sob.

[galehowl]

Some Elecmon lol

In Aurora's setting, they're a very common sight in the Digital World, though are known to prefer to live in warmer climates, subtropical or even tropical zones.

Relatively small, stocky mammals ( the size of a medium dog ) with broad heads, large mouths and eyes, their round bodies vaguely resemble those of wombats or Tasmanian devils. The fur is trick, short and soft, a bit iridescent and slightly longer on the top of the head and back. The most common colors are various shades of reds, oranges, blues and whites, but there are variations, depending on area of habitat. The blue markings have different patterns. The tail is their most prominent feature, similar to that of a porcupine, though made up out of not quills but very long, thick, coarse bristly hairs. Elecmon fan their tails out when threatened, frightened, angry, or sometimes excited. It is also their weapon, as they discharge electricity primarily from them.

Their front paws have four short digits and small (almost)opposable thumbs, allowing them to use tools with some limitations.

They're generally known to be curious, lively and welcoming to strangers ( as long as you're not there to cause them harm or take anything from them, they'll turn quite territorial and very fast then ), though won't say no to a prank or two now and then.

Elecmon have also been observed to use their electricity to fish and hunt.

Even weaker discharges are enough to kill an adult human instantly, but there have so far been no known cases of that happening. Elecmon mostly cause damage to human technology, mostly unintentionally, if they find themselves in the real world.

[tojivu]

Hey love, can i request the jjk men (or just Gojo tbh) taking care of their SO after giving birth? That would be suuuper sweet and thank you💙💙

father and husband ⋆ gojo satoru

gojo takes care of you after giving birth + other hcs

an. i'm not done with the long ass gojo fic so i'm finishing this draft first. sorry i do not know much about birth i am a teenager writing fanfiction after all...... my google search history might make my parents think i'm pregnant

cw. sfw, f!reader, not proofread, mentions of female anatomy, suggestive jokes at the end

playing. 17 by pink sweat$, ft. joshua and dk of seventeen.

"this is so unfair, 'toru."

the thick sheets the private hospital provided you with restrained you from sitting up. sunlight pours into the room through the spaces in the blinds — the ward is awfully quiet, much unlike your expectations.

"huh?"

you turn your head towards the leather chair situated next to your bed. it's a pale beige, clashing with the various blues this hospital decorates itself with — and with the white hair of the man you call your husband.

his hair falls messily onto the material. you furrow your eyebrows and wonder what has gotten into him; he's been much quieter than usual. this was not typical satoru behaviour.

your newborn baby was getting examined and you were told it would take a bit. your family wouldn't be coming down till tomorrow morning — something you didn't mind because you were so sure satoru, your loving husband, was just as prepared as you are for the birth.

"he's got your eyes," you mutter. the anxiety was really starting to kick in now; satoru was never this quiet. ever. your attempts at making conversation echo, and it's eerie how you could forget satoru was even here if you just closed your eyes. "satoru?"

you swear you see a thick bead of sweat roll down his temple. he sits cautiously, as if he is ready to spring up into action any moment now.

"i'm so scared, [name]." gojo's voice trembles and it bounces off the walls; you feel your heart skip a beat, only to pound harder the next.

SATORU starts bawling when he gets to hold his baby after the discharge. tears run down his face like two waterfalls, staining his sweatshirt. your baby looks at him with the most curious eyes, before shutting them and returning to a deep sleep.

he holds your son as if he's fragile glass, grip firm and careful not to slip — your fingers wipe the tears pooling at his waterline and gojo can't help but look at you with absolute adoration.

"please stop crying, 'toru," you smile up at the crybaby you call your husband. "you can't drive with tears in your eyes."

he tries to speak but nothing comes out. gojo's voice cracks before saying anything and he only manages to nod, handing the baby back to you.

SATORU who makes sure to help you with whatever you need, you just need to order him around. he's just as new to this parenting thing as you are, given you are the only woman he's ever loved — patience is needed with him as much as it's needed with you.

for example: satoru would never complain about waking up early in the morning to feed your son. he'd spring out of bed, nervous yet oddly confident. he was afraid of not being fatherly enough — so, this was a wonderful start. he was extremely elated when you asked him to do such a duty the night prior.

he slips out of the sheets and sees your peaceful face, lips parted and letting out small snores; gojo knew you needed the rest after all the sleepless nights.

"good morning," satoru's softly cooing at your son, careful arms scooping him up into his chest and out of the baby blue crib (that coincidentally matches both their eyes). your son only cries in response, much to satoru's displeasure.

your husband can't help but smile down at his child, before glancing over at you a few feet away; comfortably wrapped in your shared blanket.

"mama's asleep, so you're stuck with me." he mimics a pout, but words could not describe how happy he was. your son could only stare blankly at him, giggling when he presses a gentle kiss on his forehead. "sorry, not sorry."

although the baby doesn't bond with your husband that well (yet), his determination is unwavering. he makes sure to be nearby the bedroom — but not too far away, in case something goes wrong — so his cries don't wake you.

all goes well until gojo changes your son's diaper an hour later and gets pee all over his hands, that he rushes into your bedroom for help.

"[name], baby," he bites his lip out of worry, opening the door with his dry hand and calling for you. "he peed on me—"

you give him a thank you kiss for trying anyway.

SATORU who rubs your shoulders for you, or really any other body part ever — he's a weirdly good masseuse. you often find yourself falling asleep on the couch as he kneads your pains away.

"baby," he whispers.

you three were on the couch, watching a movie in the late evening. your groans don't go unnoticed, and he knows you've been holding your baby for quite some time in hopes of calming him down.

"psst, baby." satoru repeats, the arm around your shoulder tapping the flesh of yours. "aren't you tired?"

"a little," you sigh. "he might wake up if i put him down."

"nah," satoru caresses your shoulder gently. "put him down for a minute. i'll help."

"help?"

"did you know i give really good massages?" satoru smirks, "your husband's crazy talented, i know."

you raise an eyebrow. you've never heard of gojo satoru massaging people — you're a little skeptical, but put down your son in the bassinet next to the couch nonetheless.

the ache in your shoulder and back were a little too intense to bear, now. satoru could tell with the way you were shifting around in your position every 5 minutes.

well, all your doubt washes away almost as fast as it came — you find yourself knocked out on the couch for the next hour, your head against satoru's shoulder.

SATORU who makes sure to give you extra kisses and extra hugs during this period of change.

he understands how difficult it must be for you — although maybe not to the full extent, considering he doesn't have a uterus — but he wants to try, and try he does.

whenever you have baby blues, he's always there. he kisses the tears off your cheeks, wiping them away with his thumb and whispering soft praises in your ears.

satoru couldn't express how grateful he is to you for giving him a son to love, to raise with you. he can only attempt to say it in words and through kisses, although he feels that may never be enough.

"i-i'm sorry for waking you, 'toru," you sniffle, even if your body language screams the opposite — your head is buried in satoru's chest and he has his hands running through your hair.

"shh, it's okay baby — don't be sorry," he holds your body close to him with his other hand, tracing circles onto the thin fabric of your clothes. "i'm here."

other times, you break down while trying to take care of your son — sometimes the cries get too loud and overwhelming, and everything you do just seems to make it worse.

satoru hears your crying and he immediately rushes over (if he wasn't already in the room with you), taking your son from your hands and trying to calm him down himself. he'll press a kiss onto your forehead, using his free hand to wipe your tears away — and he'll tell you to let him take over.

"shit," he swears under his breath, rushing into the room and seeing your tear-stained face; satoru instinctively reaches for the baby and you hand him over. "let me do it, okay?"

you nod, desperately wiping your face with the sleeves of your hoodie — before satoru uses his right hand to wipe them for you, his lips planted on your forehead.

"i'm s-sorry," you mutter, feeling a little better when you feel the skin of your husband on yours. "i don't know what to do—"

"it's okay, baby," he smiles, tucking stray hairs behind your ears as you continue to calm yourself down; your baby is still crying, and satoru looks oddly calm as opposed to you. "let me take over for a bit."

sure, he gets overwhelmed sometimes; but he needs to be your glue in case you can't pull yourself together. even if he's clueless too, he has to be strong for you — he can imagine the chaos that would ensue if he wasn't.

when he puts the baby to sleep half an hour later, he returns to the bedroom to find you in bed: wrapped in a blanket with tissues in your hands.

satoru feels his heart break at the sight.

he climbs into bed with you and his arms find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him; his warmth feels like the medicine you've been needing this entire time, and it's almost as if all your anxiety dissipates.

"you did good today," his cold breath tickles the back of your neck, and you feel his nose bump at your nape. "i'm proud of you."

"it was all you this time," you reply in a hushed voice, throat hurting at the tears you were trying to keep in. "i don't know what i'd do—"

"no," satoru interrupts you. "i couldn't feed the baby this morning, and you did it instead — remember?"

"i remember. you knocked over the formula."

"mhm," satoru hums, his fingers intertwining with yours. "and you did it in only 2 minutes. you're too good at this baby thing, [name]."

"you don't seem so scared anymore, satoru."

you hear a laugh escape from your husband's lips. "thanks to you," and he's pressing kisses along the outline of your shoulder and neck. "i'm the strongest, after all — what can i not do?"

"you're the cockiest, too," you snicker, and you only earn a dramatic gasp from the man behind you.

"don't talk about cock with me right now."

your jaw drops slightly, before you flip your body over to face satoru's direction: he has an annoying smirk painted on his face. "you are so disgusting, satoru."

"you know you love me—" and just as satoru's leaning in for a kiss on the lips, cries from the nursery room erupt.

"man."

writers block is real i think

[certifiedsexed]

ive had a question for a little bit and I thought I had the answer but I'm not entirely sure now?

so. I have a vagina and a uterus. and like, what is that weird kinda white-ish/opaque stuff? it's like, gooey kinda and thick.

is that stuff discharge? and if not, what *is* it?

(also side question, is it acidic? because I don't think that those are *just* stains but idk)

Let me see if I can clear this up, then!

It is vaginal discharge! And yes, it's acidic! [This is an article if you want to learn some more about it!]

Hope this helps! Let me know if you have anymore questions. <3

[dutifullylazybread]

A kiss against a wall for Rolan x Tav please?

Absolutely! :D

Here ya go!

Tav tore down the tower’s staircase, Rolan coming up close behind her. Wood splintered as the door behind them was blown off of its hinges and the narrow stairwell was awash with blinding light.

Rolan lobbed three magic missiles at their pursuer, cursing loudly. Tav couldn’t see if he had been injured or if his attack had proved ineffective—she couldn’t turn to look or she’d lose her footing. They couldn’t fight this creature in close quarters.

And they couldn’t pause to throw up a wall of stone or to encase themselves in a protective orb—not without the space between them and their attacker drastically closing.

So they ran instead.

Tav tore down the corkscrewing staircase, her lungs straining, burning. A sharp discharge of magic, emitting a sound akin to fabric tearing, ripped through the air.

The stairs plateaued into a landing—the one just outside of the study. Tav reached out for the door handle—

And Rolan cried out in anguish.

She turned in time to see him barreling towards her.

“Tav!” The fever-pitch panic in Rolan’s voice cut through her focus.

His hands clamped down on her shoulders, and just as a jagged bolt of lightning careened towards her, Rolan shoved her up against the hard stone wall, the blast of magic scorching the empty space over his horns and searing the tips of Rolan’s hair.

The study’s door—where Tav stood moments before—was blackened to a char.

Rolan slumped against her. A line of smoke, thick with the acrid stink of burnt flesh, rose off of his shoulder.

And the stairway was blanched in white light as the creature descended.

The quasi-elemental was so bright that Tav had to resist the urge to shield her eyes.

Nothing had worked against it. Not fire, not ice—and Tav didn’t have time to test a spell that may prove impotent.

She needed a surefire way to destroy this elemental…

…and she had one.

Tav wrapped her left arm around Rolan’s center and drew him into her embrace. She brandished her staff with her right, its head burning a ghastly, pale green as she snagged at threads of the Weave with its decorative barbs.

The braiding scents of burnt hair and crackling electricity were replaced with the cloying stink of roses and spun sugar… muddled with graveyard soil and rot. It was as if she'd pried open the lid of a moldering casket, freeing the stench of trapped decay.

She tasted stale rainwater as she shaped the words to the spell, the Weave straining against her staff…

…and the quasi-elemental’s shape warped and buckled around the edges.

“What… what magic is this?” Rolan asked, drawing away to look at Tav.

Tav spoke the incantation, its phrasing like wisps of funeral incense and its words as abrupt as the flash of a dagger.

She wrenched her staff towards her, stripping the threads of Weave from its grander tapestry.

The quasi-elemental’s shape, already as inconstant as a jagged bolt of lightning, went rigid.

And then its form lengthened and swelled.

The creature strained and railed for but a moment before its very essence was shredded to pieces.

The elemental expired with an anguished shriek, and the stairway dimmed as its light blinked out.

Tav’s staff fell to the ground with her clatter. Her hands, numbed from shaping the Weave into rot, were chilled to the touch.

Rolan stared at her. “That spell…”

“I… found it in the Vaults,” Tav said. She shivered. “That was unpleasant to cast.”

He looked her over, pressing the back of his hand to her brow. “You’re freezing,” he murmured.

Her body, gripped in chills, shuddered. Her ribs may as well have been carved from a block of ice.

“You need to rest,” Rolan said. He reached for her, only for Tav to embrace him and lay her palm flat against the burn on his back.

“In a moment,” she said, emptying her mind and drawing upon her remaining stores of energy.

“Tav—“

The very warmth of her blood was sapped from her veins; it trailed up her arm, before unspooling into Rolan’s wound, knitting the flesh and soothing the burn under her fingertips. She was gripped by a sudden, deep-set fatigue.

A shudder ran through her body and her legs buckled.

Rolan caught her beneath the arms, bracing her between him and the wall.

“Why the hells would you do that?” he demanded. “We could have used a potion or called on a cleric. You didn’t have to—hells, your lips are turning blue.” As she stumbled forward, Rolan held her aloft.

“You’re so warm.” Her words were beginning to slur together. “Can we stay like this?”

With a sigh of exasperation, he pulled her close. Tav’s body easily moulded against his—her face rested in the crook of his neck, their chests were flush together, and his tail looped around her left ankle. She had always savored the heat that he put off, but now that she had none of her own, she loved it all the more.

“We’ll need to run you a bath,” he said aloud. “I’ll get a fire started and I’ll find some more blankets… Gods damn it all. How can you be this cold?”

“Are you upset with me?”

“Of course I am,” he snapped. “Did you expect that I’d be pleased with you reducing yourself to a state of near exhaustion? What would have happened if you had cast another spell similar to the other two?”

Tav didn’t care to entertain the idea.

“Don’t do that again,” Rolan said, the command reduced to a plea when he added a desperate, “please.”

“I…” She didn’t want to make that promise—not when she might need to break it in the future. “I can’t let you die.”

“And you think I’d be happy if you died instead?” He exhaled loudly. “We can talk about this later. I’m more concerned with warming you up right now.”

“You would pass up the opportunity to argue?”

“Hush, you.” He kissed her brow, his lips lingering there, his breath warm. “I’m… I’m relieved that you’re alive. More than you can possibly imagine.”

“I think I have an idea.” She kissed the column of his throat, felt the rumbles of his building moan against her mouth. She darted the tip of her tongue out to taste him, humming in quiet appreciation.

Rolan nudged her head back. The tips of his ears were a wine-dark red. “You are in no condition to be coming onto me,” he said firmly. “Though… you have a little more color to you now.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Perhaps our… ministrations have helped then?”

He rolled his eyes. “You are infuriating.”

“And?”

“That’s all,” he said. “Just… infuriating.”

His mouth found hers. What started as a soft peck turned heady when she nipped his lower lip, lightly tugging at it, inviting him to continue… should he wish.

Rolan cupped her face in his hands, stroked his thumbs down her jawline, and pressed his body against hers as he kissed her. Tav tangled her fingers into his hair and teased her tongue against the seam of his lips. He swallowed his moan, melting fully into her and tasting her breathy sighs.

She lost herself in him, in the moment. The warmth of his body, mingling with the heat that he stirred in her chest and her core, was enough to draw more life into Tav. Her pulse quickened; her veins thawed.

And then, reluctantly, Rolan pulled away. “Well,” he said with a small cough. “You don’t quite look like death warmed over now.”

Tav cracked a smile. She couldn’t help but notice that Rolan’s lips were swollen from the press of her mouth.

“Let’s run you a bath,” he said. “Can you walk?” He offered her his arm.

She nodded, accepting his invitation and looping her arm about his.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten how reckless you were,” he added. “We will talk more about this. Later.”

She smirked. “You? Forget? I wouldn’t dare to assume that.”

Rolan snorted. "See that you don't."

And they proceeded down the stairs together.

[milkygothgf]

Such a disgusting pervert for staring at your own coworker while she's pregnant. She is in a vulnerable state and is in need of support from as many people around her as possible, and all you can think about are her plump, swollen baby bump and her bulbous, milky tits. You have no idea how she's feeling right now.

But maybe you should.

You need to be punished, to be put in her shoes.

*I* am going to breed you every day until your tits are swollen and leaking, and your belly is round and massive. Months of nothing but having your eggs smothered in gallons of rich, fertile baby batter. Then, once you're showing so much that it's impossible to hide, I'm going to make you feel how humiliating it is to have people stare at you so much when you're pregnant, except I'm going to make it so much worse for you.

Cow print leggings that squeeze your swollen thighs. Completely topless save for a jangling bell around your neck and a cow print bikini top that has been roughly pulled open to expose your gorgeous udders. A beautiful cow ear headband with big, floppy ears - [you know the one I'm thinking of, yes, that one]. A pretty ring gag to keep you from speaking, to make you drool lots and lots, but nothing in the way to keep people from hearing your embarassing "moos." A long black and white tail plug ending in a cute fuzzy tuft. Binding leather mitts that completely remove the functionality of your hands and six inch black and white platform heels - or perhaps I should call them your "hooves." Electric breast pumps, afixed to each of your fat, leaky udders like spigots. Half a dozen pink rubber vibrators on their highest setting stuffed cruelly up into your thick, dripping cow cunt.

And, of course, a lead.

I'd drag you into your workplace and apologize to your pregnant coworker on your behalf, assure her that you are being punished thoroughly for your perversion. Perhaps I'd even offer to let her punish you herself for a while. I would be carrying a cattle prod and a riding crop with me, of course, so she could whip you and shock you and make you jolt and shake and scream and moo lots and lots as revenge for being such a nasty perv. Then, merciful, patient, and kind woman that she almost certainly is, she would let you off easy.

I, on the other hand, would not be so sweet.

I would parade you through town, handing out the milk being pumped out of you to strangers and letting them grope and ogle and punish you as much as they want. Before too long, I'm sure - perhaps even before we left your workplace - you would begin to hurt from being in those platforms, lugging around your swollen body, and losing your balance. Without even a prompt from me, you would start crawling around on all fours like the cow you are. Your udders would bounce and swing so low that the spigots on your pretty fat nipples would scrape across the ground. You would leave a trail of drool and discharge everywhere we went. You'd be trembling constantly, orgasming every couple of minutes all day until you were so sore you couldn't take it. You'd be in less pain than you expect, but only because you're so numb from all the shocks, you feel like your brain is going dumb.

And it must be, because...

No way.

This was a punishment.

You shouldn't he *enjoying* this.

Wow... truly a new low.

You love being a pregnant free-use masochist milk cow.

If that's how you're going to be, then fine.

I'll just punish you by ruining your existence and making it impossible for you to go back to a normal life.

I'll break you.

Make you a proper hucow.

You'll be wracked with orgasms just from someone looking at your tits.

You'll leak from your nipples *constantly.*

Every time you cum will be a wet, messy fountain.

Going anywhere, doing anything, without your ears, tail, and cow print, will leave you with such crippling dysphoria that you'll do nothing but cry and beg me to put them on you. And once I do, you'll be so thankful.

Every time after your pregnancy term is over, you'll crawl back to me and beg me to breed you again so you can have your pretty tummy and beautiful udders back.

I'd make you get a "MILK ME" tattoo on your chest and a "BREED ME" tattoo over your womb.

And every night, I'll break you in more. Shock you, spank you, hypnotize you, annihilate your brain cells en masse, and rewrite them according to my vision.

Cow will be your whole identity.

Until then, why don't you go ahead start the process early?

Go "moo."

Right now. You can do it.

Moo.

Moooo... I didn't mean to be a pervert 🥺 It's not my fault her noticeably larger tits make me jealous. Or her baby bump that just dropped so she's really showing. It just makes me want it so bad... Mooooo..... But I didn't mean like that 🥺 I understand though. I deserve to be punished for that. Moooooooo..... I'm being a gross creep and I deserve to see how it feels however you see fit. And honestly, so long as I'm pregnant moooooo... and constantly leaky,,,,,how bad can it be really? How bad can it really be being a pregnancy free-use masochist milk cow..? It's what I wanted right..? Moooooo....

[fidicuswomen]

Call : +917997101303 | WhatsApp : https://wa.me/917997101505 | Website : https://fidicus.com

Signs and Symptoms of Abnormal White Discharge Treatment Cure Medicine Surgery | Gynaecology Women

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[beautifulmars]

Fill or Mantling Material in a Crater

This observation targets some unknown fill or mantling material within valleys on a crater floor and within a central pit.

High resolution imagery can help determine what this material may be (e.g., ice-rich fill, dust, or other mantling unit?) and estimates of its thickness. With knowledge of its thickness, we can discern how deep the valleys and pit would be without its presence. This is necessary information, because without knowing the thickness of the material, appropriate discharge values for the valleys cannot be determined and neither can the history of the crater prior to infill. (Black and white cutout is less than 5 km across; enhanced color is less than 1 km.)

ID: ESP_039925_1360 date: 1 February 2015 altitude: 253 km

NASA/JPL-Caltech/University of Arizona

[pastelspoon31]

Chapter 5: What a nice neighbour! (Older!König x Younger!Reader) - NSFW

tw: age gap (early 20s reader, AT LEAST mid-40s König), manipulation, non-con, somnophilia, drugging, gullible reader :(, a little bit of pseudo-incest, pretty much dead dove, coerced pussy inspections, König being a non-licensed gynaecologist lol

A/N: Editing this while wondering what the fuck is wrong with me (A lot)

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | > Masterlist

Should you tell him? It's a pretty weird topic to bring up so casually.

He's still a man afterall, right?

Lately, you have been waking up with... a lot more discharge than usual. Thick white opaque liquid leaks out of your pussy and crusts onto the fabric of your panties.

You were confused, and a little grossed out, but after taking a shower and getting dressed, you forgot about the weird situation.

At least until you woke up again the next day and the same thing happened.

And the next day.

And everyday the next week.

And everyday the next month.

Was it something you ate? Was it a sign of cancer? Was it something worse?

You haven't had sex in a long while so it couldn't be that...

It had happened while you were sleeping over at König’s too, where he had been keeping you safe in his arms as you slept so it's not like you've been attacked.

The only explanation was that it was just your body doing its own thing, and there was no harm done.

Right?

"Hey, König?" You looked up at the man standing next to you.

"Yes, liebling?" He hummed, and you bit your lip.

"Are you... Uhm..."

"What is it, mein hase? He asked with concern, and you looked down, playing with your hands.

"Are you busy... today?" You nervously asked.

"I have nothing planned. Did you have something in mind, liebling?" He asked.

"No. Yes. Sort of." You muttered.

"I need your help with something.." You bit your lip nervously.

"And what would that be?" He hummed.

"U-Uhm... It's... embarrassing..." You murmured, and he tilted his head.

"What is it, liebling?" He placed an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer. "You know I'll do anything for you."

"Yeah... I know.." You nodded, "But this is weird..."

"Nothing is too weird, mein hase."

You blushed, and looked down, biting your lip.

"Do you mind... Accompanying me to the gynaecologist? I think there's something wrong with me.." Your face was red and your heart was beating wildly.

König bit his lip to hide a smirk, his mind already imagining what you were going to say.

"What's wrong? You caught something with your ex-boyfriend?" He pretended to ask.

"What? God, no! Me and Billy.. Well, I haven't had um... sex in a long while." You murmured.

"So then, why are you so worried? I'm sure it's nothing. Tell me, my late wife always complained about the same thing and she was fine." He pretended to be assuring to you.

"That's the thing, König. It's.. It's something gross.." You cringed for even having this conversation.

"I've never really had a guy close enough to me to talk about this.." You whispered.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, liebling."

"But it's different-"

"It's human, liebling. I'm sure it's nothing serious."

"No, you don't understand. It's... I don't think a woman is suppose to produce something.. um.. so much.." You whispered.

"-And i've never really... Had anything like this happen before.." You sighed, looking away.

"Ah, if you're that worried.. Show me then," König even followed up with a gentle smile that was so well crafted you couldn't possibly imagine him being the culprit.

"W-what? No! That's even more gross!" You squeaked and König's smile dropped, turning into a frown.

"Liebling, it's only natural. Don't you trust me?" He asked, and your blush worsened. "You see me as your father, ja?"

"Yeah.." You reluctantly answered.

"Then, there's nothing to be afraid of." He patted your head reassuringly. "If it makes you feel any better, I served a short period as an assistant to a doctor in my younger days serving in the military. I've seen and helped more women than I can count. I’m more than happy to help you if you want, liebling,”

You blushed and nodded, looking down.

"O-okay.. But promise you won't laugh or make fun of me.."

"Of course, hase." He gave you a soft smile and rubbed your back.

"Alright.."

You allowed him to guide you to his bedroom as you sat on the edge of his bed.

"Alright, mein hase. Whenever you're ready." König told you, and you nodded.

You hesitantly lifted up your skirt, and inched closer to the edge as you spread your legs about a foot's width.

"I'm going to need you to spread your legs a bit wider, hase. I can't see anything." He cooed, and you swallowed thickly and obeyed, your hands tightly gripping the edge of the mattress.

König's eyes immediately zeroed in on the wet patch that stained your panties, and he smirked to himself.

His thumb gently pressed against the damp spot, making you gasp.

"Is this the 'problem' spot you're talking about, hase?"

You nodded, and he gently rubbed his thumb over the fabric.

"König.." You whimpered, and he hummed, moving his hand away.

"I'm going to remove your panties, ja?"

"Mm-hmm.."

You nodded and watched him hook his fingers around the band of your panties, pulling them down slowly and carefully.

"Mmm, mein hase, it's worse than I thought." Your pussy was still red from the abuse he gave it the night before as you were sound asleep.

"It's.. It's been like that for a month. All.. red and sensitive..." You murmured out in embarrassment. 

"When I wake up, there's always a heavy white sticky discharge- A lot of it. And it's crusty when I take my panties off.." You bit your lip.

"And it happens every morning..."

"Oh, poor hase.." König clicked his tongue in sympathy. His eyes however, were set on your cute little clit nestled in the top of your slit.

"How does it feel?" He asked and brushed his fingertips against your labia.

"Mm.." You whimpered and bit your lip, "It feels sensitive.."

"And here?" He pressed his fingers into the skin around your lips, and you whined.

"Hurts.." You whimpered.

"Poor little thing.." He hummed, his fingers trailing up to your clit.

"Oh.." You gasped and instinctively closed your legs.

"No, no, liebling." He cooed, and opened your thighs once more, his finger rubbing circles on your sensitive bud.

"That's not!- You're touching my, oh~" You let out another gasp.

"I'm just checking, ja? To make sure nothing is wrong."

"O-oh, okay.."

You swallowed thickly and let him rub and stroke at your pussy, his fingers gliding against the wetness of your arousal.

"I don't see anything.. white that you mention of." He pretended to be curious as he lightly dipped his index finger into your entrance, your walls already trying to suck him in.

“But it’s always there every morning..” You tried reasoning with him.

"Well, I don’t see it. Here, it's mostly clear, hase.." He continued, pushing his finger further.

"K-König!-" You instinctively pushed yourself up, your hands resting on his shoulders.

"Shh, hase. We don't want the neighbours to hear you, now do we? It'll give them the wrong impression. I'm just examining you, afterall.."

"It feels.. weird." You murmured.

"Just relax, liebling." He soothed, "There's nothing to worry about."

He began pumping his finger in and out of you, watching how your body reacted and memorising all the ways you whimpered and suppressed your moans.

"Hmm... Have you been eating well? How's your diet?" He asked, pretending to be concerned as his fingers pumped in and out of you, his thumb still circling your clit.

Oh, how he was enjoying the way you struggled to form words as your hands gripped the fabric of his bedsheets tightly.

"I-I have.." You moaned.

"Have you been drinking enough water?" He asked, his thumb speeding up on your clit.

"Y-yes! I have. I have!-"

"I'm just making sure, hase.." He said softly, "I don't want anything bad to happen to my liebling, ja?"

"Y-yes, König.." You whimpered. "Are you almost done..?"

"Almost, liebling.." He said, "I'm just trying to find the source of the problem."

König pulled his fingers out, his middle and ring finger pressing against your entrance. The pulsing of your tight heat had him salivating at the thought of how he's the one that caused that.

"Now, just relax, hase." He cooed.

"I don't think-"

Your breath hitched and a moan escaped you as he slid his two fingers inside, pushing past your resistance.

"Shh, shh, liebling. Just relax, hm? I'm almost done checking." He hushed.

"Please, König, I don't think- A-ah!~"

König started fucking his fingers in and out of you, his movements slow and teasing.

"What was that, liebling?" He smirked from your reaction, his pace slowly picking up.

"Mm, it's sensitive, König! Too- ah! Much!"

You couldn't focus on forming words properly as the older man fingered you, your pussy already fluttering and squeezing his fingers.

It didn't take long before you clamped down on his digits, and let out a soft cry, your body shaking.

"König!-"

"There you go, hase." He hummed.

"I think we've found the source of the problem."

You gasped, your face a bright shade of red.

"Oh, God, König! I didn't mean to..!" You cried out, face red.

"Oh, hase, don't worry about it. It's natural."

"But-"

He pulled out his fingers and wiped it on the bed sheets.

"Frankly, I don't think there's anything wrong. Your discharge was clear. It's not white. And as far as I'm concerned, you've eaten a healthy and balanced diet and had enough to drink. You haven't been having unprotected sex either. In fact, you're very healthy, hase." He gave a deceptively sweet smile at you.

"B-but, König.."

"Liebling, you're a beautiful and healthy woman." He sat next to you and pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"You're not in any danger, I can promise you that. It's perfectly normal. It's nothing to worry about.." He reassured.

"It's just something that happens." He kissed your forehead. "Nothing to be embarrassed about, ja?"

"Okay.." You nodded, your heart still pounding.

"Good girl. Now, put your panties back on. We'll go have lunch together at that place you like, hm?"

You smiled and nodded, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you, König. For.. Helping me out." You murmured and he smiled.

"Of course, hase. Anything for you,"

[ilys00ga]

FOREVER, YOU & ME.

pairing: yoongi x oc

genre: yandre!yoongi, doctor!yoongi, patient!reader, doctor/hospital au, one-shot.

warning: mentions of drugs (?), obsessive and manipulative behavior, non-consensual, use of pet names.

A/N: tried something new :) really couldn't stop myself from writing again. sorry.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

pitch dark night sky, bright colorful lights drowning the crowded streets of Seoul and fireworks painting the canvas of the sky. it's New Years Eve, everyone is outside. people playing here, others dancing there. even those who prefer staying inside restaurants to enjoy the presence of their loved ones in the first moments of the year.

however the celebration is, everyone is doing something on the streets of Seoul tonight.

one hour post midnight, and the hospital is still alive and cold, as usual.

"I left some other reports and important papers on your desk, I'll be helping Dr. choi for the rest of the night." nurse Jeon tells yoongi as they stand at the reception.

"are there any news on the missing patient?" nurse Jeon asks.

"nope. it's been three days and still no trace." the receptionist answers.

"that's weird. she was getting discharged right before disappearing." nurse Jeon's brows furrow. "poor girl suffered here for months and never got a break."

"maybe she just decided to leave quietly with no warning." yoongi hums casually. it's no rare case to have patients leaving the hospital with no words, as soon as their treatment ends. some are just impatient as that.

"she was friendly though, hyung. I expected a small goodby, to be honest." yoongi snorts with an eye roll at the younger's pout. he is naturally social, this one, he likes to befriend the patients to make them feel as comfortable as their healing process requires, and maybe a tiny bit more.

yoongi, on the other hand, is less social and more professional. he likes to focus only on his job and to smoothly terminate his missions.

"she was your patient, though, are you not even slightly worried, hyung?" he added.

"she's probably having a blast now, Jeon, it's new year's eve in the outside world. now, you get going." with a last pat on the nurse's back, yoongi bids his goodbye and leaves to the upper floors.

he passes by sleepy rooms, walking through long, white corridors with his hands tucked in the pockets of his white, neat knee-length lab coat. there's barely any people at this hour in the hospital, so any loud noise can be ten times louder in the thick, silent air of the night. he hums a random melody he grew fond of in the past couple of days as quietly as he can.

finally, he reaches a door. twisting the knob and entering his much warmer office, in which he barely lets anyone save from his nurses and very few collegue-friends.

unwanted presence means unwanted curiosity, which leads to unwanted questions and feelings.

ever so quietly, he removes the stethoscope hanging from the back of his neck and down to his chest, then puts it atop the desk. he always avoides touching the silver parts because of how annoyingly cold they usually get, despite the awake radiators that are distributed everywhere in the building.

bending towards one of the drawers, he opens it, pulls a key and a filled needle out, then heads to open another door inside the office. a door strictly forbidden for anyone except from himself.

every time the very few people that are allowed inside the office ask about that door, he says it's the private room in which he uses for resting and personal time when his shift hours get crazy.

a wave of relief washes over him upon stepping in.

the space is almost empty, limited in furniture. there's darkness, a small lamp on a small night stand right next to a bed, a heater, and there's a body.

someone is lying on that bed.

you are lying on that bed. small form, unmoving limbs, resting pale face, closed eyes, dark circles, dry lips... it would've been easy to assume that your soul had already left and rose high up to the skies if it weren't for the faint raise and fall of your torso.

a low melody, the same one he was humming a few minutes ago, can be heard as well. almost non-audible, not to grab any external attention or... disturb your deep, deep slumber.

yoongi smiles as he slowly sits on the edge of the bed, so careful as if you'd wake up at the smallest of mouvements.

the faint yellow lights of the lamp shone gently on your face, making him lift his hand to caress you skin and stare. thoughtless and content. just staring.

a few moments pass by and he snaps out of his hase, remembering what needs to be done first and before anything else.

he grabs the needle with one hand and holds your wrist in the other. he's so gentle with his touch. so gentle as if to apologize for what he's been doing to you.

"it's time for your shots, pertal." he whispers to your unconscious body. "I'm helping you sleep soundlessly, with no worries or corrupt thoughts."

the needle stabs your skin and pushes the drug into you vein.

"it's been three days, my love. I love having you here, you know?" he pulls the needle out and puts it in his pocket.

"people are looking for you. they want to take you away from me. like you wanted to leave and go away.. far away.. and leave.. I won't let that happen." his face eyes grow sharper as his words become saltier, but his voice stands soft and calm.

he lays down to face your stomach and hugs you. he hugs you tight and close, afraid you'd jump out of the bed and run away at any given moment. as if you could even lift a finger in your condition.

yoongi closes his eyes shut and inhales deeply, allowing your scent to settle into his lungs, locking it there and in his brain as well so he could remember it when he's away from you, doing whatever shitty thing his job makes him do during his shift.

"I can't let you go. I know you're a good little thing. nothing will change between us as long as you behave and stay with me. like this. forever."

"it's you and me forever, darling."

[hwajin]

#! — [ meraki ] hwang hyunjin

— gn!reader // sfw, suggestive if you squint // mentions of nakedness // req

It was hot. Unseasonably hot, and your attire wasn’t making it easier on your sweating body – padded hoodie and a baggy jean, making you drip in uncomfortable wetness from places unspeakable. You wanted out of the clothes, you wanted out of them now.

“Leave me to die here y/n, I won’t make it back to the hotel.”

Hyunjin’s voice grunting, sounding like he was gasping for air, desperately – you weren’t better off. You had planned a get away together, deciding that a short vacation was well deserved and needed, and you’ve been excited to lazy around for three days on end, no obligations keeping you from it. Unsure of what had ridden you on the last day – but you and Hyunjin decided to go hiking, reading in trip guides that the path was a popular and undifficult one, done in under an hour and you hadn’t thought long about it, packing a bag with water and a sandwich before heading off – not expecting the sun to burn down your bodies in such heaviness, not expecting the path to be as steep as it was – you’d been fools and now drenched in your own sweat, faces reddened and lungs longing to breathe, legs nearly giving out and mind urging a cold shower, a soft bed.

You giggled at Hyunjin’s dramatics, stopping shortly to wait up on him – he had on a white shirt which was times better than your hoodie, envying him on his decision. He was bent over, arms stemmed against thighs – seeing him like this, one would doubt physical activity was his breadwinning job. Scooching closer and putting a compassionate hand on his shoulder, and he looked up at you, upper lip littered with droplets of sweat, tongue darting out to lick it up – nose scrunching at the saltiness in consequence.

“C’mon, we’re almost there. We have like five minutes left, I can see the hotel already.”

It had taken you longer than five, though eventually you had opened the door to your shared hotel room – which came with a shared bathroom, which came with a shared shower you, rather painfully, nervously, realized. You were a new, a fresh couple – Hyunjin had made the first move only a week back, after few years of sweetest friendship – and if you had been dating any longer the utter realization of having to either fight over or share the refreshing, the cleaning water, long awaited and dreaded, would have come easier. First the discharge of clothes – though not nearly all, each others full nakedness left for the occasional pool day was yet something undiscovered, slightly feared yet anticipated – then an exchanged look, knowing, nervous, giddy. It wasn’t mere a reason to grow conscious over the matter – one would simply have to shower first, the other sit in their sweat for minutes longer – and yet the realization, the tension filled the room. Flew above heads like thick fog. Hyunjin braved up to break the silence first.

“You can go first, if you want to. Just hurry, I’m drenched.”

Sentence came with an amused huff, soft, fingers pinching his wettened shirt to accentuate his state. You laughed in response, debating whether to say the word or to silence it down. Looking at your boyfriend’s state, at his body painting through the shirt that hugged his body with it’s added weight, his dampened hair – you didn’t wish to take that shower by yourself. And you would speak up about it.

“Or, you know…”, a gaze his direction, his eyes finding yours in questioning look, curiosity, a hint of fear, perhaps, laced within, “… we could go and take a shower together.”, and then after a beat of hesitation, of reddening and nearly shying away because Hyunjin’s stare was boring into you, an expression inexplainable behind, “ I’d be fine with it, and none of us had to sit here drenched.”

Glad to have it out, waiting for the consequence. People, previous partners had seen you naked before. You weren’t one to shy away from it, by any means – and yet it felt wholly different with him. It wasn’t the need for bareness, the animalistic urge to see nude skin and jump at it the very next moment – your desire, and you didn’t know how much of that same desire laid within Hyunjin – didn’t stem from a place sexual. It sprouted and bloomed from a feeling deeper, an avidity that went beyond the layer of skin, farther than anything able to describe, to explain – maybe that was very reason your nerves felt on fire; because you needed Hyunjin to reciprocate. You needed him to want your body later, and want your mind now, yet with no confines between you. Skin on skin though no wandering thoughts, you and him existing in utter vulnerability.

“I’m… fine with it, if you’re fine with it.”

Coming closer with every of his word, until he stood before you in all tallness. A soft nod exchanged, and Hyunjin discarded his shirt – letting it fall to the ground with a nearly heavy thump. Your hoodie went next, down to your pants, until the pair of you stood in undergarments which soon followed the increasing pile of clothes – and Hyunjin reciprocated. Only a wandering gaze across the whole of you – you weren’t one to blame, your eyes hushed over his every bit of skin in quick manner – before you locked stares anew. Huffed laughter, nervous in their frequency. Stepping into the shower, big and tiled as though made for two people, two lovers, two souls. Starting the water, cautious, jumping at the sudden coldness, getting used to following warmth.

And you merely washed each other. Rubbing soap against skin, caressing shampoo into hair. Talking all the while, drying each other in comforts of lush towels, not bothering to get dressed when sliding into bed, arm in arm, limbs entangled, shyness leaving bit by bit; replaced with a sense of secureness – with Hyunjin, there was comfort in vulnerability. There was something incredibly humane, about him, about his body, about your bodies together. Something so far from common cravings, for lustful hunger – something beyond the layers of sheer skin, or the mere materialistic.

@etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @etheralsung @nyrasneedy @seochhj @spidercomics @chans-starlight @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @sstarryreads @svintsandghosts @bokjaz @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus

[ghouljams]

ok. really weird question here, feel free to ignore since its kinda weird/gross.

i'm freshly 18 by like a month now, my moms out of the picture and i don't have anybody i can really ask about vaginal health besides google.

i think i may have a yeast infection, but its not itchy downstairs. just the thick white discharge. its been going on for months now. i have no idea what i've got or if its normal, but would appreciate advice as you seem like the go-to for sex-ed/kink-ed on tumblr

what do i do?

Full disclaimer I am not a doctor, if you are seriously worried you should see a doctor.

Thick white discharge could mean any number of things, but if you are having no other symptoms it's more than likely JUST and I mean JUST your vagina cleaning itself. Sometimes discharge just looks like that, it's going to look different at different parts of your cycle and it's something that I find myself noticing MORE when it's in that specific part of my cycle.

If you're not itching, having pain/burning when you pea, or having any sort of change in smell(it'll smell yeast-y) then it's likely nothing to be worried about.

IF you are concerned but don't want to see a doctor: there are washes you can use to treat it over the counter, BUT these are designed to kill yeast and if you don't have a yeast infection, killing all the yeast down there(and there is supposed to be some) can mess with your PH and lead to things like bacterial infections.

I'm going to be so uncomfortably honest with you, I still get worried when I see thicker discharge, and I'm predisposed to thicker goo. I genuinely thought I had a years long infection for, well, years before I even learned what discharge was. This is one of those parts of sex-ed I wish was talked about in school because it would've saved me a LOT of stress.

Tl;dr you're probably fine, but if you start showing other PERSISTENT symptoms then absolutely look into free clinics to get checked out.

[thedroneranger]

Tip of the Cap

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Précis: A cowboy hat, a combination cap—if you wear either, you better be ready for the ride...

Note: Just a little smutty something that's been sitting in my WIPs half written. Finally finished it. ** high-five** I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, smut.

Word count: 2.7k

A smile pulled your lips as you thought about how good Jake looked tonight. He could wear a potato sack, and he would still be the best-looking man you’d ever laid eyes on. However, you were an absolute sucker for him in uniform, and when he was in his dress whites, watch out. 

Jake still on the brain, you stood in front of the mirror, that hung over the dresser, and removed your jewelry. You were battling an earring when you made eye contact with him through the mirror. His gaze made you stand a little straighter. “Lieutenant,” you said with a half salute and cheeky smile. 

Still in full dress, including his combination cap, he sidled up behind you. “At ease.” He removed his hat and rested it on your head. Too big, it fell over your eyes. 

While you adjusted it, his hands came to your hips and his lips ghosted your jawline. You purred when he nipped the spot where your shoulder met your neck. By the time you got his cap just right, Jake was done teasing you and headed to the walk-in closet. 

You pouted at your reflection after he disappeared. Contemplating your next move, your eyes floated to the closet door one more time. You laid his hat on the dresser and began to unzip your dress. 

All evening, you had been waiting for this moment. Earlier, when you were getting ready for Jake’s ceremony, you had decided to wear lingerie under your gown. An after-event surprise you knew he would love.

This set, in particular, would definitely catch his attention. The last time you wore it, he had just returned from deployment. Before he left, you and your best friend had a wine night to take polaroids of you in it. A treat that you stuffed into Jake’s duffle for him to find later. Once he did, his only request was for you to model it when he got home. 

You kept an eye on the closet as you undressed. Headed for the bed, you spied his hat and decided to take it with you. Nestled among the pillows, you arranged yourself with your head resting in the crook of your elbow. With your free hand, you adjusted the hat one more time and waited.

Finally, Jake emerged from the closet. He was shirtless as he darted toward the ensuite bathroom. However, he did a double take and changed course when he saw you. “What is this?” He stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his thick chest and his eyes locked on you.

You let your fingers trail over the curve of your breasts, and then the lace covering your nipples, and finally down your bare stomach. “My uniform.” You tried not to smirk as you adjusted the too big hat. His lips quirked trying to restrain a smirk.

Jake unfolded his arms, placed a knee on the bed and climbed so he was hovering over you. He supported himself with a hand on either side of your head and his knee slotted between your thighs as you looked at each other. “I’m not sure you meet uniform standard,” he said. 

“Oh?” You cocked an eyebrow, and then looked between the two of you as you dragged an index finger down his chest, through his diastasis and dipped it into the waistband of his pants. “Enlighten me.” You met his gaze while you unzipped his trousers. A smirk pulled a corner of his mouth. 

His eyes glanced over you, and then he dropped his head to your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts. “No ribbons or insignias—minus four points.” He trailed kisses down your stomach. “No shirt—immediately discharged.”

Your body shook as you giggled. He pressed a kiss below your navel. “No belt—minus two points.” His lips grazed your skin. “No pants—you’re already discharged…” He looked at you as he trailed off. 

He sat back on his haunches and pulled one of your ankles to rest over his shoulder. You watched as his large palm traveled up your thigh, past your knee and gripped your shin. He pressed a kiss to your calf. His hand began its descent in the direction it had come. At the same time, you pressed your foot flat to his chest. He looked at it. “No shoes?” His lips quirked and his eyebrow cocked as he gazed down at you. His eyes floated to his hat resting on your head. “Your cover, however, is passable.”

“Passable?” You scoffed and slid your foot up his chest until your ankle hung back over his shoulder. Leaning forward, he bent your leg toward you. Your other leg enveloped his waist. He leaned over you, supporting himself with his hands. 

“It’s clean, the emblem is in good condition and no loose strings,” he explained. You smirked at him. “However.” Jake paused for effect. “It’s a little big…” he trailed off. As if intentional, the hat slipped down your brow. Before you could push it up, Jake lifted it off your head and placed it on his. “It’s definitely made for me.” Adjusting the hat, he winked and sat back again. Hands resting on his thighs, Jake looked down at you through hooded eyes. His smirk lured you to make the next move. 

You pushed yourself into a seated position, folding your legs under you and facing Jake. Keeping eye contact, you reached behind you and unclasped your top. Your eyes never left his as you shimmied the straps off your shoulders, holding the cups to your chest while you freed your arms. Then you slowly pulled the fabric from your body and tossed it aside. 

Jake thought he was subtle, but you caught the split second his gaze dropped to your chest. A smile pulled your lips as you leaned forward, shifting to all fours. As you did, Jake assumed a kneeling version of parade position—hands behind his back, facing straight ahead, knees spread hip distance. You crawled toward him, and then straddled one of his thighs. Hands behind his back, he let his eyes fall to you as you ground against him. You whimpered from the friction. Using your palms for support against the mattress, you leaned back so you were on full display for him.

You rolled your nipple between your fingers until it pebbled. Switching hands, you gave your other one the same attention. Then, you pushed yourself up so you were again face-to-face with Jake and draped your arms around his neck. One hand settled on the side of his face, your thumb gliding along his lower lip.

Jake’s restraint was impeccable. You bumped his hard-on a few times with your knee as you settled onto his lap, grazing your chest against his. Jake’s hands remained behind his back and his gaze distant as you teased him.

“At ease, Lieutenant.” The minute the words left your mouth, Jake’s hands were on you. One slid over your waist and down your back to rest on your ass. And the other pulled your hips closer to him, and then it rose to your ribcage to press your torso even closer to his. 

Your hand cradling his jaw, thumb resting on his lower lip, Jake pushed his lips against your thumb.  His expression warmed to match the lust in his jade  eyes.

He tilted his chin up and you dropped your hand to his throat, sliding it around the side so your thumb came to rest behind his ear and drew little circles. The two of you gazed at each other, and your eyes floated to the hat standing between your lips and Jake’s. He watched as you moved it from his head to yours. “Does the cowboy hat rule count for a combination cap?” you asked with a smoldering smile, and then you leaned down so your lips met his. 

His grip on you tightened, and he rolled his pelvis into you as your tongue played with his. You hummed as you pulled back and your hand came to rest between his clavicles. You lazily drew a heart with your index finger and watched the corners of his mouth pull into a smile.

“It does now.” The gravelyness of his southern drawl pulled the coil in your stomach a little tighter. You pushed your lips against his again. He matched your intensity, gripping your ass tighter and squeezing your body closer.

You pulled back to look down at Jake. His head was tilted back to meet your gaze. You let your thumb wander down the side of his face. He hummed as you touched him, and you could feel the vibrations under your fingertips. “Is that so, cowboy?” you asked playfully.

“Yeah,” he answered. You ground yourself against his thigh as you waited for him to continue. “You’re made for me just like this hat is made for me.” 

“Mhmmm, perfect fit.” You agreed with a smile. 

“And tonight, I plan to wear ya at the same time.” He closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours. While you were a tangle of teeth and tongues, Jake guided your bodies so he could furrow himself into the bedding, leaving you laying on top of him. 

Your thighs hugged his hips and your bare chests pressed together as you made out. As your lips separated, you sat up, assessing your position. A wicked grin carved your lips as you ground into his aching lap. His hands gripped your thighs.

“Only thing you’re wearing right now is too much clothing.” You were already moving so you could help discard his remaining garments. 

A smirk quirked Jake’s lips, and you could feel your pupils dilate as he lifted his hips for you pulled his pants and underwear down. Animatedly, his cock sprung free of his boxer briefs and slapped against his lower stomach. 

Once Jake was completely naked, you ditched your panties and slipped back onto your perch. Slotting his length between your folds, you slid back and forth to slicken him with your arousal. The unintelligible groans while his fingers dug into your hips egged you on.

You loved teasing Jake. Rubbing your engorged clit along the underside of his length. Mixed fluids lubricating you while you pressed your palms into his broad chest for support. In fact, you both got off many times this way. 

However, tonight, Jake wasn’t having it. Although his eyes were nearly in the back of his head, he still had the wherewithal to guide himself into you. Slowing your pace, you lifted your hips to allow him entrance. 

A soft whine bubbled out of your throat as he stretched you. One of his hands slid back to knead your ass. Momentarily his touch disappeared, and then his open palm connected with a swift crack. You sat up straighter as a surprised yelped escaped you, and you clenched around his cock.

“That’s it,” he praised, loving the feeling of you hugging him tighter. Another smack, and you clenched him again. “You know it’s coming, and you can’t help yourself.” He followed his comment with another swat.

He smiled as a strangled groan emitted from you. You were supposed to be in control, riding Jake since you put on his hat. However, the man had zero patience. His hips thrusted up, pitching you forward. Your hands were splayed on his chiseled chest to keep yourself as upright as possible while he fucked up into you.

You loved when Jake got like this. So aroused, he couldn’t hold back. Instead, he had his hand wrapped around the front of your neck as he bucked his hips. Meanwhile, you had one hand wrapped around his wrist and the other holding his cover on your head.

Jake’s thrusts were getting sloppy, and as if on cue, he shook out of your grasp and shifted his hand from your throat to the back of your neck. The other looped behind one of your knees, and he gently flipped you so you were underneath him.

“I’ll take that.” He plucked his cap off your head and seated it on his. Then he was back to thrusting into you, pressing you further and further into your shared mattress. 

Desperate for purchase, you clutched Jake’s biceps the best you could—he would have tiger stripes in the morning. One of your legs over his shoulder, the other draped over his forearm, he relentlessly pounded into you.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he praised. Unable to articulate a response, you felt zero shame in the messy moans and whiny whimpers that fell from your lips. Each one only made Jake stretch your lower limbs further for deeper penetration.

Jake stilled and you could feel him spurting into you, coating your walls. Slowly, he pulled out, and his cock, still half hard, bounced out. A little dollop of cum accentuated his handiwork.

“Fuck, so gorgeous.” Jake admired, kneeling back on his haunches. His palms gripped your thighs, keeping you spread as he watched your mixed arousal drip down, threatening to hit the duvet.

As you were catching your breath, Jake climbed off the foot of the bed, dragging you with him until your hips were situated on the edge. He sank to his knees, yours bracketing his head. You were careful not to knock his hat off. 

Zero warning, he swiped a broad tongue from your cum-soaked hole to your sensitive nerves. Arms wrapped your hips to hold you steady as he fucked his tongue into you. Whining, back arching, you fisted the bedding and squeezed your eyes shut.

Two thick fingers replaced his tongue. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m going to take care of you.” You opened your eyes in time to see him punctuate his statement with a kiss to your cleft. Then he slid his mouth a little lower to suction around your swollen clit, sucking at the same rhythm as his fingers scissoring and curling inside you. 

He knew you were close. Your walls tightening, Jake made the game-time decision to swap his fingers for his hard-again cock. He literally didn’t miss a beat. The extra stretch from his girth was just what you needed.

Your heels rested on Jake’s ass, while he continued to pump into you. One hand found its way into your hair, and the other pried your fist open to lace his fingers with yours. You squeezed his hand just as your walls contracted around him, your orgasm washing over you. Jake covered your lips with his, swallowing your breathy gasps. 

Then, he pulled your hair just enough to elicit a pleasurable whine, which was music to his ears as he kissed your neck and chest. His hat was askew. As you came back to the present and soaked in the scene, you couldn’t help but giggle. Jake was flushed, lips puffy and the only fabric on his body was his standard-issue U.S. Navy combination cap. 

“Looks good on you.” With your free hand, you straightened his hat. 

He bared his teeth, giving his signature smile. “Not as good as you look on me.” He shifted his hips, reminding you where you were connected. Not caring if his hat fell off, he leaned in for a kiss. His tongue tickled the seam of your lips before entering your mouth. Your hand shifted to his cheek. 

Untangling himself from you, Jake pressed himself off the bed. You rolled onto your back, clenching your thighs to recover from the empty feeling. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught Jake’s ass retreating into the closet. You giggled to yourself as you rested your cheek into the bedding and kicked your legs into the air.

“I was thinking for Round 2 we could use the real deal.” You picked up your head to find Jake strolling back over to the bed wearing only his favorite Stetson. His cock was erect and ready for duty. 

A smile pulled your lips as you sat up on the bed, hugging your legs to your chest. He stood in front of you and gently placed the hat on your head. “Looking to see a little more of me, cowboy?” you asked. 

“I’m looking to see all of you,” he responded. 

Fulfilling his statement, you slid off the bed and stood in front of him. Head tilted back to look him in the eyes, you flexed onto your tiptoes so you could put his hat back on his head. “How about a change of scenery?” Slipping past him, you walked backward toward the ensuite bathroom. You winked before disappearing across the threshold.

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[becky-resus]

Against the Clock

The wail of sirens pierced the cold night air as the ambulance screeched to a stop outside the ER. The back doors flew open, revealing paramedics hunched over the still form of a young woman. Becky, 25 years old, was barely clinging to life after a head-on car collision. Blood smeared her face, and her chest heaved irregularly beneath the oxygen mask strapped to her pale face.

“Female, 25, restrained driver, head-on collision. Unstable vitals, GCS is 6. Possible internal injuries. BP dropping—70 over 40. She’s fading fast,” the lead paramedic barked as the gurney was pulled out.

The trauma team, led by Dr. Miller, rushed to meet them. Every second counted. Becky’s limp body was wheeled into Trauma Room 2, where the bright overhead lights exposed the full extent of her injuries. Blood had soaked through her torn clothes, pooling around the gurney.

“Strip her down!” Dr. Miller commanded, his voice sharp and decisive. A nurse cut away her shirt and pants with a pair of scissors, exposing a bruised and battered torso.

“Suspected rib fractures—looks like blunt force trauma to the chest. Check for a pneumo,” Dr. Miller ordered. Becky’s abdomen was distended, her pale skin mottled with purpling bruises that hinted at internal bleeding.

A nurse called out Becky’s vitals, her voice clipped. “BP is dropping—62 over 38. Heart rate 130 and climbing.”

“She’s circling the drain,” muttered one of the junior residents as Dr. Miller assessed her pupils.

Becky groaned faintly, her lips twitching as if trying to speak. “Becky, can you hear me?” Dr. Miller asked, shaking her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered, but there was no response. Moments later, her head lolled to the side, her body going completely limp.

“She’s unresponsive. Let’s intubate,” Dr. Miller said, already donning gloves. The room erupted into action as the team prepared to insert an endotracheal tube. Becky’s breathing became shallow, her chest rising and falling unevenly.

“Is this head trauma or internal bleeding? We need a fast ultrasound—now!” Dr. Miller demanded.

The hum of the ultrasound machine filled the tense air as the resident slid the probe across Becky’s abdomen. The black-and-white image confirmed what they had feared: free fluid. She was bleeding internally. Before the team could act, the heart monitor emitted a single shrill tone.

“Flatline. Asystole!” a nurse shouted.

For a split second, the room froze. Then chaos erupted.

“Start compressions!” Dr. Miller barked. A nurse climbed onto the gurney, positioning her hands over Becky’s sternum before pressing down in rhythmic, forceful compressions. Becky’s chest caved under the pressure, her broken ribs grinding audibly beneath the nurse’s hands.

“Epinephrine. Now!” Dr. Miller ordered. Another nurse grabbed a syringe and injected the drug into Becky’s IV.

“Charging to 200!” the resident with the defibrillator called out.

“Clear!” Dr. Miller shouted. The team stepped back as the paddles discharged, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Becky’s body. Her torso arched slightly, then fell back to the table. The monitor remained flat.

“Resume compressions!” Dr. Miller snapped. The nurse returned to the relentless cycle of chest compressions, her hands moving with precision as sweat dripped down her temple. Another round of epinephrine was administered, but the monitor stayed silent.

“Come on, Becky,” Dr. Miller muttered under his breath.

The minutes stretched on like hours. Compression, defibrillation, drugs—the process repeated again and again. The room was thick with tension, the steady rhythm of compressions punctuated by the sharp tones of the monitor and clipped commands from Dr. Miller.

“Let’s go again. Charge to 300. Clear!” Another shock was delivered, the force jerking Becky’s body upward. For a brief moment, the monitor flickered.

“Sinus rhythm!” someone cried.

A weak but steady pulse appeared on the screen. Relief flooded the room as the nurse slowed her compressions, her arms trembling from the effort.

“She’s back,” Dr. Miller said, his voice tight with focus. “Let’s not lose her again. Stabilize her for the OR. We need to get that bleed under control.”

Becky’s breathing was shallow but steady as the team secured her airway and connected her to a ventilator. The nurses adjusted IV lines, pushing fluids and blood products to stabilize her pressure.

“Ultrasound confirms a ruptured spleen,” the resident reported.

“Prep her for emergency surgery,” Dr. Miller said.

Becky was wheeled out of the trauma room and toward the OR, her life still hanging by a thread. Dr. Miller stood by the door, watching as the team disappeared down the hallway. His gloves were streaked with blood, his scrubs damp with sweat. The room was a battlefield—discarded gloves, empty syringes, and wrappers scattered across the floor.

“She made it this far,” Dr. Miller murmured to himself. “Let’s hope she keeps fighting.”

The trauma room was silent now, save for the faint beep of the monitor and the murmur of distant voices. Outside, the night carried on, but for Becky, the fight was far from over.

This is a perfect scenario for me. Where does it go is surgery successful or do I code on the table.