find beauty in what bleeds

twenty one minors + ageless blogs dni.

[red5cars]

about.

red ☆彡 21 ☆彡 she/her ☆彡 filipino

i reblog and make nsft posts. minors + ageless blogs dni.

thinking about: obsession

listening to: live country music

wondering: what hobbies should i get into for the summer!!

navi

ao3

cod m.lists

the pitt m.lists

or, look at my tag #reds writes

[dumbformore]

“…How does this feel?” n. kento

pairings — Icky Gynecologist! Nanami x Naive Fem! Reader.

꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ synopsis — you book your very first gyno appointment with nanami. you didn’t realize then that you would leave a completely different person and craving for more.

wc: 3.2k

warnings/tags: dead dove do not eat, dark content. NSFW. MDNI 18+. younger sheltered virgin fem! reader (early twenties), gross and pervy older! nanami (mid to late forties), medical au, medical malpractice, taking advantage, gaslighting, dubcon and noncon themes, fingering, power imbalance, panty stealing, forced orgasm, gaslighting, age-gap, degradation, praise, breeding kink, corruption kink, coercion, size difference, humiliation, shame, manipulation. also please note that if you do not like any of these tags, you do not have to read. please feel free to block me and go about your day. if you go out of your way to leave hate i will literally ignore or block your ass, don’t look stupid. not proofread.

you were always so confused about your body. growing up without an older sister, aunt, or mother figure left you with no one to guide you through the depths of your own body. you had no one to ask what did things mean, you were mostly clueless to women’s health. you pieced what you could together through basic info on the internet. googling symptoms, even spiraling in wikipedia hell, yet you still felt deeply embarrassed and ignorant.

after months of vague pelvic discomfort and irregular periods you decided to bite the bullet and book an appointment with your local gynecologist, especially after your best friend vaguely mentioned that “you should get checked out.” you chose dr. nanami because of his reviews, while there were only a few, they were all positive. they said he was “thorough” and “patient with anxious first-timers and younger patients.” everything you needed, yet as you sat in the waiting room with sterile white lights shining over you, you fidgeted. blushed while filling out the initial intake form. when the reception finally called you back, you knew that there was no turning back now. you sat on the hard plastic chair, already shy, clutching your purse, thighs pressed together so tight under your sundress it was like your unconsciously body is already refusing the exam before it even started. but when dr. nanami walked through the door, a small weight seemed to lift off your shoulders for a reason you couldn’t understand.

He greeted you with a warm, paternal smile that seemed to make you give a shy smile back. in that gentle, professional, doctor way that made patients relax “miss l/n.” mid-to-late-40’s, tall, deep voice, polished, impeccably dressed in a white overcoat over slacks and a white button down, and framed glasses. you didn’t notice the slight shift in his demeanor when he first saw you.

he knew the moment he laid eyes on you that he wanted to ruin you.

then the standard questions started. menstrual history, medical background, sexual activity (to which you admitted you had no past partners, only touched yourself occasionally, and even then it was only clumsy external rubbing). “it doesn’t really feel… good? Or maybe it does? I’m not sure what it’s supposed to feel like.” you admitted to him, because that was the truth, you could never bring yourself to finish or even get closer to that edge, everything just felt unsatisfactory but you just convinced yourself you were one of those people who maybe just didn’t find masturbation enjoyable? nanami listened with a perfect bedside demeanor, nodding empathetically that made you feel utterly seen “It’s quite common for young women without proper guidance to be uncertain about their own bodies. That’s why we’re here.”

but what he really thought? clumsy little thing doesn’t even know what an orgasm is. perfect.

he recommended a “full pelvic exam” for baseline health, emphasizing how important it is for someone your age with “limited experience.” you had to undress, pulling your dress off with shaky hands in the corner of the room, then your bra, then your panties, but nanami stayed in the room while you changed. his eyes locked onto the floor (or so you thought) from across the room, he claimed him staying in the room “saved time and reduced anxiety,” and poor old you believed every bit of it. the thin paper gown he gave felt harsh on your skin and made you feel utterly exposed, yet the warm aura that came from nanami made you believe that everything was going to be alright.

everything felt normal. he checked your vitals, the breast exam was swift, etc. he was thorough in ways you should’ve noticed if you weren’t so ignorant, lingering touches, the subtle bulge that slowly started to form in his slacks the longer his fingers were on you, him rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger. just once. barely noticeable, and over as soon as it started but causing a small whimper past your lips that make his cock twitch in his slacks while explaining everything in textbook language you barely understood.

sensitive, bet she’d cry so pretty with my mouth on them while begging for more. you, so stupid, so naive, thought that maybe all doctors were this thorough.

stupid.

then the pelvic exam came.

so stupid.

he had you lay back on the stiff table, thighs pressed together as he changed his gloves. the latex snapping against his wrist sounded like a round being put in a chamber. you watched his back as he moved across the room grabbing the necessary equipment, you were actively avoiding the stirrups where your feet were supposed to go. but the moment he turned around and saw you there, shaking slightly, something shifted in him. most doctors would comfort you, take their time with you. but nanami? it fueled his disgusting brain even more. the look of you, so nervous and at his expense, he almost turned you over and fucked you raw on this very table. the sight of your thighs pressed together made his cock throb heavily against the front of his slacks. but externally? he just gave you the a small warm smile, the kind that made your shoulders relax despite your legs still being pressed tight.

“don’t worry, miss l/n, it’s alright. we’ll take it nice and slow. many young women find the stirrups intimidating at first. let’s get you comfortable, yeah?”

his voice was steady, professional in the way you believed everything he said. he rolled his stool right between your thighs. he then helped you position your feet in the stirrups himself, one hand lingering on your calf while the other stayed on your inner thigh for a moment too long “for support.”

bullshit.

the paper gown crinkled loudly as he lifted the hem up to your waist, exposing you completely under the harsh and sterile white light. the cool air hit your bare skin making you shiver, or maybe it was the way nanami gazed at your cunt, like he had been undressing you with his eyes long before you were actually naked, you couldn’t tell from which. you stared at the tiles on the ceiling like they were the most interesting thing in the world, afraid if you looked down that all of this would become real.

“perfect. just scoot your hips a little closer to the edge… there you go. excellent.” he adjusted the overhead lamp, staring openly at your pussy while pretending to calibrate it. he used his gloved fingers to slowly inspect the external vulvar area with clinical precision. parting your folds gently with his index finger, noting positively on the color, the lack of lesions, and the “healthy appearance.” but his sick thoughts inside his mind were a complete devoid of what he said outwardly.

fuck, look at the pretty pink slit. barely touched, clenching around nothing. dripping already just from being looked at. this little thing walked right into my office like a gift. he thought. no fucking way i’m wearing latex for this, i want to feel how soaked this clueless cunt gets.

his cock was already half-hard in his slacks. he palmed himself once, slowly, while “reaching for the light.” but what really got you was the sound of latex, not being put in place, no, being taken off. he peeled off his gloves right in front of you, tucking them in his coat pocket. your eyes snapped from the ceiling to him, searching, yet instead he told you “for the internal portion i’m going to proceed without gloves. latex can dull the temperature and texture perception, and for a baseline exam on a younger with limited experience, direct contact can give us much more accurate information about elasticity, lubrication, any subtle tenderness, and overall vaginal health. it’s standard in thorough practices. is that all right with you?”

you nodded quickly, too quick, embarrassed to even have an opinion. afraid of being a bad patient. afraid of being a problem. “if that’s what’s best…”

so so stupid.

he kept one hand on your inner thighs “to steady you.” you didn’t even remember trying to close your legs again, he used his other hand to part you open. his fingers were warm compared to the latex you braced for. slightly rough. bare. no latex barrier. just the friction of skin on skin.

the sterile room smelled sharply of antiseptics, but something underneath it was muskier. the paper crinkled loudly as you shifted, the cold metal from the stirrups bitting into your heels.

one thick digit traced your slit just like earlier, but this time he collected your wetness, circling your clit in small slow motions. “how does this feel?” he asked, voice low and even, bordering clinical like he was checking your blood pressure. like this was normal.

“it-it feels kind of… strange. tingly i guess?” you whispered unsure, staring hard at the ceiling tiles while your face burned. “perfectly normal,” he murmured. so fucking clueless that she doesn’t know that she’s doesn’t know that she’s getting wet for her doctor. pathetic, greedy cunt. i could knock her up right here on this table—fill her up until she’s leaking my cum for weeks.

“you’ll feel some pressure now. try to relax your muscles… good. how does this feel?” he pushed one thick digit in slowly, then a second, curling, stroking your walls with precision while his thumb “accidentally” kept brushing your clit. the wet squelching noise filled the filled the room obscenely as he scissored you open. the stretch burned slightly but sent a confusing spark to your gut as he pumped slowly. his other hand stayed resting on your inner thigh, parting, rubbing small circles into them all while gently but firmly keep them apart.

“it… it feels weird. full? but i don’t know if it’s supposed to—“ he deepened the motion instantaneously, hitting the spot you didn’t have a name for that made your hips jerk. the spongy spot inside of you he rubbed with deliberate yet professional strokes caused a involuntary moan to slip past your lips. “excellent response. that’s normal. some discomfort mixed with sensation is expected.” he said calmly. “your pelvic floor is quite reactive. that’s a good sign.”

like he’d had done this before.

his hand that was resting on your thigh moved abruptly. under the exam table, away from your vision, though not entirely, his other hand palmed his thick obvious bulge that was straining against his slacks. he squeezed himself once through the fabric, stroking once, twice, while his finger continued to work you open.

monthly appointments from now on— i’ll have her bent over this table like my own personal cumdump every four weeks, pretending it’s “pelvic floor therapy.”

the sounds that were coming from your cunt were obscene. wet squelching, those very noises would keep nanami up for days straight feeding his sick fantasy while he jerked off under his desk between patients, in the shower, in bed.

you caught the motion from your peripheral — the rhythmic movement of his arm, the way his hips shifted slightly. your eyes flicked down for half a second. was that…? no? no. you’re just nervous. hallucinating. doctors don’t… you’re imaging it because you’re gross and anxious. don’t be stupid. you snapped your gaze back to the ceiling, heart hammering. the nerves of your first gyno visit is clearly making you hallucinate.

no one ever taught you about this kind of thing, so this must’ve been normal.

he felt you clench and smiled that paternal smile.

“excellent muscle tone. you’re doing very well.” he said. she saw my cock. looked away like a scared little rabbit. but she saw it. next time i’ll make her watch me stroke it while i finger-fuck her. he kept the rhythm steady—slow, deep, agonizingly so. curling his fingers every few thrust—while his thumb brushed your clit “to assess sensation.”

“how does this feel now?”

you whimpered. “it’s… a lot. i feel really weird. like something’s building.”

he added a third finger, stretching you wider unpredictably. “breathe through it. tell me if the pressure changes.” i could cum in my pants right now just from how she’s sucking my fingers in. bet she’s never had anything this thick inside of her. i own this pussy now. she’ll be booking monthly appointments thinking that this is what healthcare feels like. stupid slut.

your mind questioned what was happening while your body betrayed you — slick coating his bare hand and practically leaked down to his wrist. you didn’t understand what was happening, only that it felt complete overwhelming, the pressure became intense. your thighs shook in the stirrups, you bit your lip to supress those pathetic whimpers and moans. you didn’t understand the heat coiling low in your belly or why your hips kept wanting to move.

“dr. nanami… it feels… really intense. like my body is doing something on its own. can we… can we take a break. please? or maybe i can finish this another time? maybe i could reschedule an appointment for another day…”

he didn’t pull his fingers out. he just slowed them. kept them buried deep inside you and he looked at you with that warm, parental, understanding expression that made your feel like you were the one being ridiculous.

“i hear you. and it’s completely valid to feel overwhelmed—many-first-time patients do. but stopping now would leave the exam incomplete. your symptoms, the pelvic discomfort, irregular periods, the uncertainty about pleasure—point to possible pelvic floor issues or possible vaginismus. this could indicate something that we’d need to catch early on. if you reschedule, we’d likely have to repeat a lot of this, which might be even harder next time. we wouldn’t want that, right? many patients regret not finishing. you’re already being so brave. just a little longer and we’ll have everything we need. you don’t want to be one do this girls who avoid care because of nerves, do you?”

you hesitated, tears forming in your eyes. “breathe. you’re safe. this is what a proper exam feels like. your body is reacting this way because it had never properly been examined before. trust the process.” he added, his voice dropping slightly.

you felt guilty. stupid. like you were wasting his time and being difficult to a man who was only trying to do his job.

you cracked, self-deprecating “i-i’m so sorry. you’re so right… i don’t want to be a problem, i’m just being silly. i can do it. really. please just keep going. i trust you. i’m sorry for interrupting…” you even spread your thighs a little wider in apology, mortified at yourself.

his smile softened. “no need to apologize. you’re communicating perfectly. let’s finish strong.” you didn’t even notice while you were apologizing he took the opportunity to palm himself again—full, slow squeeze of his cock through his slacks, thumb brushing at the angry head where a wet spot was starting to form. you didn’t look this time. you kept your eyes glued to the ceiling like it could save you. he rewarded you by speeding up, his mask slipping just a fraction. “Good girl. such a cooperative patient. how does this feel now?”

but you didn’t respond this time, you couldn’t, not properly at least. your breath hitched. your head was all fuzzy, tears blurring your vision. your walls fluttering, then clamping down hard around his bare fingers like your pussy was trying to both push him out and pull him back in at the same damn time. a sudden, intense, and overwhelming wave crashed through you—your whole body jerked, face twisted, back arching off the table. slick gushed around his hand and the table beneath you. you came with a broken little sound you’ve never heard yourself make before.

he kept fucking you through it, repeatedly hitting your g-spot, drawing it out and milking it, pupils dilated far beyond reasoning. your first real orgasm—you whimpered, ashamed. he prolonged it while palming himself to the edge but not finishing, saving it for a later fantasy.

when it finally subsided you were panting, confused, mortified. “i think… i had an accident? or… what was that?” he slowly removed his fingers, letting them linger on your swollen clit for just a moment too long. showing you, holding them up to the sterile light, then wiping it on your inner thigh with clinical detachment.

“no accident at all. that was an involuntary release—completely normal during internal stimulation, especially for you first time experiencing it. it tells us that your nerves are responding appropriately. nothing to feel ashamed about miss l/n.” he deepened his fingers one more time, claiming to “check your cervix” all while your body was still twitching, wanting to push you over the edge. he helped you sit up, praised how well you did, let you pull down your gown. the rest of the appointment passed in a haze.

“everything looks healthy. no abnormalities. however, given your full history and the fact that this did your first full exam, i’d like to see you back in four to six weeks for a follow up. we can recheck your cycle patterns and go over any self-monitoring techniques if you’d like.” he handed you his business card with his direct line scribbled on the back. “call the office to schedule. or you can reach me directly if anything comes up before then. please, don’t hesitate.”

you got dressed once again, slipped off your gown to put your sundress back on. you didn’t notice that your panties were gone, must’ve been the way way that your thigh were shaking or how your mind was still cloudy. you didn’t see just earlier when he slipped them inside his coat pocket. but as you thanked him and left the room he took the damp fabric and brought them to his nose, inhaling deep with a small smirk. i’ll wrap them around my cock tonight and jerk off to the memory of her gushing on my fingers. next visit i’m tasting her directly. he put them back in his pocket along with the facade he slipped back on.

you left on shaky legs, still wet, still throbbing, still telling yourself that this was normal.

later that night you tried to sleep. you couldn’t. every time you closed your eyes you felt his fingers, heard his deep voice.

how does this feel?

your hand slipped between your legs almost on autopilot without you even realizing. you started like you always did—clumsy circles on your clit—but it wasn’t enough. not after today. you slid two fingers inside yourself the way he had. tried to copy the curl, the upward press.

how does this feel?

you moved faster, chasing that same “tingly” feeling as you did earlier, the same pressure. shame flooded over you instantly.

no one ever taught me… this must be what he meant by reactive. i’m just following his instructions. he was helping me.

tears pricked your eyes even as you rolled your hips against your hand. you added a third finger, gasping at the stretch. though it didn’t feel as good as when he did it, but it was close enough to make you moan broken into your pillow. you whispered his words back to yourself.

how does this feel?

the guilt made the pleasure sharper, more intense. when it hit you again you had to bite your pillow to stay quiet. your body shook harder then it did on that exam table. you came again thinking of his calm face between your legs.

what the fuck is wrong with me? you thought. he was just doing his job. being through. and i’m here fingering myself to the memory like some gross pervert. he even said it was normal. i’m the one making it sexual. i’m the problem.

completely unaware that the real pervert had been that man in the white coat.

you curled up small, eyes burning. you felt dirty. ignorant. broken.

but you also knew that were already going to call in the morning and book that follow up. better yet? you would use his direct line.

his monthly toy.

a/n: this is my first fic on this account so y’all better go easy on me lmao. xoxo, ly loves you 💋! divider is by @cursed-carmine

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - afab!reader, non/con, period kinks, exhibitionism, and menstrual blood. this one's nasty y'all.

Every time someone says that Geto Suguru doesn't go absolutely feral for period sex, an angel loses its wings.

There's just something about seeing you sensitive and in pain and covered in your own blood that gets to him. Maybe it's how helpless you are, debilitated for days on end, so reliant on the pleasure only he can give you to make it through something that ought to be natural. Maybe it's how emotional you get - how little teasing it takes to make you cry, to remind you of just how much you need him. Or, maybe, after years of choking down the literal scum of the earth, his taste buds are so fried that he just can't tell the difference between a fine red wine and your arousal-tinged menstrual blood when you cum on his tongue for the nth time that night.

And he's so cruel about it, too. You're already so embarrassed to have been forced into such a vulnerable position by your friend turned cult-leader turned kidnapper, he can't help but draw out your humiliation that much longer. He deliberately lies to you about how long you've spent in his loving care just to make it that much harder to keep track of your cycle. All your products are kept under lock and key for your own safety, so you have to ask him so, so sweetly anytime you need a new pad or painkiller, and you're delusional if he's going to give you more than one at a time. Forget about tampons, too. Those ugly plastic applicators are too complicated for his empty-headed lamb. Unless you're going to lay down and hold still while he helps you insert it, the only thing inside of you for the next seven days is going to be him.

Watching you bleed through your clothes is his favorite part by far. It's probably the quick, terribly succession of obliviousness, then horror, then frustration as you realize he's gotten his way again. He makes a point of dragging you to as many meetings and sermons as he can while you're on your period, dressing you up in the thinnest, whitest robes and making you serve tea and fetch sacraments until a pinprick of red inevitably appears on your immaculate silk. If you dare to draw attention to it or worse, try to slip away, he's more than happy to drag you into his lap and split you open on his cock until he's attended to whatever matters he must. Just try not to squirm too much. If he loses his composure, you'll be the one licking that little red ring off the base of his shaft when he's done.

It's debasing, but you really ought to be thankful his preferences are so strange. If he was any less disgusting, there's be nothing left to stop him from knocking you up every nine months on the dot <3

[red5cars]

watching phm and WHY HAS NO ONE MENTIONED CARL AKA MY GOAT LIONEL BOYCE?!?!! i love how he remains whimsical in every role and brings so much fun to his characters (im still within 30 minutes of watching the movie)

[emilisastarx]

I guess i have a lot of free time

[crashingcryptid]

It was a joke. Something Kyle did with a spare thirty dollars while he was tipsy and feeling down. He likes you so much that it consumes his every thought. All he wanted was a chance with you. An etsy witch love spell was silly, but it seemed like a good idea two whiskeys in.

"Oh, Kyle! Nice to see you this morning." You were smiling so wide it almost looked painful as you slid his coffee across the counter. "How have you been?"

"Alright. Hungover." He jokes as he fumbles through his wallet for some cash. You reach across the counter and stop him, softly squeezing his hand in yours.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Kyle... It's on the house today." You assure, eyes boring into his. He smiles back, glancing down at where your hands joined. This was weird. It was very weird because most days, you barely looked at him while you served his coffee. You were polite and kind, always made small talk, along with a great cup of coffee.

Today, you looked almost shy when you looked at him. "Thank you, love... Would you like to go on a date with me? Maybe on Friday?" He offers, watching as your hand retracts. This was stupid, probably even more than spending money on a love spell. But with the way you were acting, he wanted to take a chance.

Your eyes sparkle, smile slowly stretching across your face. "I never thought you'd ask... This Friday?" You watch as he takes his coffee, winking at you over the top of it. "I can't wait to see you then."

When Kyle came too, he almost flinches back from your face so close to his. He couldn't, though... Not with the drugs still coursing through his system. Your fuzzy face was so close to his he could feel the hot breath on his lips, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Oh, hey baby... Hey, shh shh shh..." You whisper, cradling his face in your hands when he starts to struggle. "I was just so worried you were going to get sick. I had to give you so much medicine, I was worried you'd choke on your own vomit." You softly squeeze his face, stroking under his eyes as his vision started go clear up.

"What -" Kyle chokes slightly on a glob of spit as you walk away, leaving him bound to the chair. "Love, what is this -"

"Everyone thought you were so drunk at the restaurant they helped call me a cab. Well, because we came there in your car. Which I had towed by a company way out of town, so it wouldn't cause any problems." You come back into his field of vision and sit down in his lap.

"You - love, please, you have to let me go." Kyle whispers quietly, flinching when you softly pinch his cheek. "I have a job in the military, and my team -" Kyle shallows hard as he tries to catch up to everything that happened. "They will look for me."

"But they won't find you." You whisper as you press a soft kiss to his lips. "I just... I love you so so so so much, Kyle. I'll make you happy." You stroke his head as you lean on his chest, listening to his soft heartbeat. "I promise..."

[extratragic]

i stole this from twitter

[im-somewhere-in-the-stratosphere]

To all my mutuals whether we talk much or not I love you all

[spin-the-wheel-polls]

I will regret this and shouldn't make wheels at 2am but

This tumblr sexyman is your son!

Are you proud of him

yes!

somewhat

I shouldn't be but yes

No

NO.

I'm disowning him

I am scared of him

Results

Voting ended onJun 24

(sorry if your favourite is not in this poll, I went mostly off the contenders from this year's poll and the classics)

[ladykelsi]

Gaz begging you, the resident asexual, to pretend to date him because you won't make it weird and try to trap him into a relationship he doesn't want like other people have and because his parents won't get off his back about him being a perpetual bachelor but instantly falls in love when you do the smallest of things.

holding his hand suddenly makes him sweat. kissing his cheek short circuits his brain. he's all warm inside when you call him "babe" or "honey" like he's really yours. and did he ever tell you that you look absolutely gorgeous in that blue sundress?

like. he's never wanted to bask in your affection more now than ever. he relishes your sweet gaze and smiles and settles into your touch so much that it looks so believable to his family that he's actually in love and is finally getting out of his bachelor phase.

it's terrifying to him because what they see and believe might just become very real to him.

"you two make a lovely couple." his mum says to him after dinner and it really cements in his brain that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to settle down for once.

but then you cease all girlfriend activities when the night ends. quitting him cold turkey like he meant nothing to you had his head spinning from the whiplash because he went from being "come here, baby" to "see ya later, bro" real quick and he's never felt more like an addict because he wants more of your love now baby come back to him :(

Gaz does not understand how you can just switch from friend mode to girlfriend mode and back again without so much as blinking an eye and it bothers him so much because he can't go back to seeing you as any less than the person he wants to spend the foreseeable future with meanwhile you're just going about your day like nothing is wrong.

[red5cars]

everyone is writing more kyle gaz garrick fics we all REJOICE

[ceilidho]

Tunnel of love summer of Gaz…… you go in as friends and come out with him obsessed with you…..weird tunnel of love magic

[lostlamblizzie]

transfem!trinity crying into baran's neck... because baran is being oh so mean to the poor girl, torturing her, really. sat on trinity's aching cock, stuffed up deep in baran's cunt, the warm weight of baran in her lap so dizzyingly addictive.

trinity's not allowed to move. she was mouthy at work all day, and baran just can't let her girl get away with that, now can she? what kind of mommy would she be? she coos soft and condescending, faux sympathetic, petting back trinity's silky hair. oh, sweetheart, I know, mommy knows. if you just keep being good for me then you can fuck me so nice later, hmm? how does that sound? poor girl...

trinity makes a strangled, hiccuped whine in response, unable to do much else, all her energy focused on being good, staying still, not cumming too fast. it's nearly impossible, baran is making sure of that. purposefully clenching down around trinity's dick, squeezing and massaging her shaft with the wet, silky walls of her cunt, perfect and hot and tight. m-mommy, pl-ease— a-aah— g-god, I can't, I can't, mmmnhh, mommy, please....

trinity's hands shake where they hold onto baran's hips, and baran can't help but adore the pitiful whimpers spilling from trinity's pretty lips against the skin of her neck. baran doesn't let up, not yet, grinding ever so subtly to hear trinity gasp, clutch tighter at her hips. shh, shh, not yet, sweetheart, be good, now. if you're a reaaally good puppy you can have your treat, okay? just a few more minutes... theere you go, just keep mommy all nice and full for a while, that's my girl. <3

[tinyleafwritings]

Saw this at Costco...

Johnny and Simon seeing this on display and joking that you should get in it and try it out. Or at least you think they’re joking, but they stare at you long enough without moving on that you find yourself sitting on the little pet couch, nervously watching them through the bars while they take photos “for reference.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Housecat Hospitality.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Reader (JJK).

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Word Count: 3.5k.

TW: Dub/Con -> Non/Con, Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Snow Leopard!Gojo, Puppy!Reader, Oral Sex (F. Receiving), Rough Sex, Heat Cycles, Verbal Degradation, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Reader Is Very Oblivious, and Manipulation.

[Part One] [Part Two]

Because the world was unfair, Satoru got blamed for the picture incident. As if you weren’t the one hogging center-frame.

Suguru pulled out the crate as soon as he got home. It was less of a punishment and more his way of saying ‘I don’t want to deal with you right now’, which to Satoru was the cruelest punishment of all. Yowling and screeching, he was forced inside and left to rot while you got special treatment — a warm bath, a long walk, and a lecture not to put strange things in your mouth again. If Suguru disciplined you at all, Satoru’s keen ears didn’t catch it. That was just like Suguru. Pamper his dumb, slobbering mutt while neglecting the prime example of an endangered species that lived under the very same roof.

Still, time-out on is own, he could tolerate. The fact that his punishment meant Suguru was withholding food until the next morning was less easily dealt with. He was an apex predator. He needed raw meat, a lot of it, and as often as he could shovel it into his mouth. More damningly, he was a spoiled housecat. Skipping a meal wasn’t an inconvenience — it was torture. By that evening, he was grumbling. By sunset, he was sharpening his claws on the aluminum bars. By midnight, he was curled into a ball, snarling at every shadow that flickered across the empty room and whipping his tail against the floor. Not that it mattered. He could growl and scream all night if he wanted to. Suguru was too stubborn to fall for something like that. He couldn’t be coming to check on Satoru until tomorrow morn—

His rounded ears perked up as the bedroom door opened, soft footsteps scampering through the hallway and into the kitchen. He heard the plastic clacking of someone rummaging through the fridge, the metallic chafe of a knife cutting on marble. Eventually, your feet came into view, dragging anxiously. There was something wet and red in your left hand.

You crouched in front of his crate and held out your offering — a slice of raw meat about the size of your palm, the edges ragged where someone had hacked it away from a larger chunk. Glaring at you, he snatched the cut away and sank his fangs in. You watched him eat in silence, those big empty eyes of yours glossy with curiosity. When he was done, you asked, “What is it?”

“Dog,” he snarled. It was an obvious lie, not even really a clever one. Boar or rabbit would’ve been more realistic. Satoru couldn’t tell. He’d never had an overly discerning palate. Preference was counterintuitive to survival. Hunger was hunger. Meat was meat.

He expected you to flinch back. Bare your teeth at him, even. Instead, you just blinked and continued you stare blankly.

Satoru’s frown deepened. “You do know you’re a dog, right?”

“Mhm.”

“A common breed, at that. Easily replaceable.”

“Yeah! I think you’ve mentioned that, before.”

Satoru groaned. Even you couldn’t be this stupid. “It’s like you want to end up on somebody’s plate.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind. Not if it’s yours.” Your ugly tail was starting to wag. “As long as I’m helping.”

“You really don’t know what that word means, do you?”

Even in the dark, that idiotic smile of yours was brighter than the sun. “Of course. It means I’m helping you.”

If Satoru hadn’t been such a well-behaved, beautiful, noble creature, he would’ve reached through the bars of his crate to throttle you.

“Go back to bed, puppy.”

“Okay!” Your blunt claws scratched against the floor as you scrambled to your feet. You started towards the bedroom, but paused, glancing over your shoulder and letting your tail droop. “But, you’ll be alone.”

And it would still be better than spending another minute with you. “I’ll be fine.”

You pouted. He curled up and clenched his eyes shut as you scampered off toward the bedroom, only to circle back a few seconds later, rest something against his crate, and retreat without another word. He only dared to check once he knew you were gone, not wanting to deal with your stupidity first-hand again so soon.

You’d left him one of your stuffed animals. Suguru had bought you a legion of them when he first brought you home, and the handful Satoru hadn’t desecrated beyond repair were now your most prized possessions. You’d left him one of your favorites — a little white cat, all neatly combed fur and gigantic blue eyes.

Something turned over in Satoru’s stomach. Carefully, with gentle hands, he pulled the stuffed into his crate, dragged a nail down the length of its stomach, and spent the rest of the night tearing it to shreds.

~

You’d been a nuisance before. After that night, you became unbearable.

No matter how hard he tried to pretend that you simply didn’t exist, he couldn’t seem to stop noticing you. The way your body curled into the smallest possible ball as you napped in the backyard on sunny days. How your tail would beat against the floor whenever someone spoke after a long silence. The tasks you left half-finished because, no matter what you were doing or how much time it had taken, you’d forget about it entirely if he or Suguru called your name at any point. It was frustrating. Worse — it was smothering. He’d always thought of you as annoying, but ignorable, on par with a tacky rug or broken lamp. Now, you were more like a housefly. Always flitting about in his peripheral but never close enough to swat.

And you were gloating, too. Inescapably. All the time. Grinning like an idiot and stepping on his heels as you asked if there was anything you could help with, anything he needed. You even started sleeping on the foot of Suguru’s bed, which was obviously Satoru’s spot. He had his own room and hammock, sure, and he wouldn’t be caught dead putting himself below a human, but still. You should’ve known. You should’ve stayed away.

Or, at least, pretended to be sorry when he slipped into Suguru’s bedroom in the early hours of the morning and caught you red-handed. You weren’t smart enough to grovel, though. You weren’t even smart enough to wake up. It took long, groggy seconds before your nose began to twitch, your eyes flashing open a second later. You tensed then, recognizing the shape looming over you, relaxed. After wasting more of his time to yawn and stretch, you smiled up at him.

“Do you need help with something, ‘toru?”

You made no effort to keep your voice down. His gaze shifted to Suguru — still sound asleep on the other side of the mattress. He’s been away for longer than usual, that day, and he’d come back with bruises over his knuckles and bandages on his chest. Something about an escapee at the research facility — Satoru wasn’t sure. But he’d seen Suguru come home like that before. He wouldn’t budge up until sunrise, if even then. No amount of noise could possibly wake him up.

But you didn’t know that.

Satoru nodded. “We have to be quiet, though. Really quiet.”

He’d never seen your brainless eyes so wide. “I can do that.”

“You have to promise, puppy.”

You rolled onto your chest, clambering toward the side of the bed. “I—” Already too pitchy, already too loud. Satoru cringed, and you fell into a harsh whisper. “I promise.”

And yet, you yelped as he grabbed your waist. It would be pointless to try and explain what he wanted when the only words that made it through your thick canine skull were ‘sit’, ‘stay’, and ‘roll over’. It was easier just to pull and jerk you into position — your lower body hanging off the edge of the mattress while your hands grabbed at Suguru’s sheets. For a predator species, you had terrible reflexes. It took you long, clumsy seconds for you to get your feet on the ground and even longer before you thought to look at him, more confused than alarmed. Again, Satoru opted not to waste his breath. You’d get it soon enough.

Or you wouldn’t. Satoru could’ve purred at the thought alone.

You didn’t wear much to bed. One of Suguru’s t-shirts, but nothing else, nothing close to the silk sets Satoru needed to keep his fur unmatted. The flimsy material rose up as you squirmed, leaving your ass and cunt exposed. You made no attempt to cover yourself. Whether your last owner had been less strict about human modesty practices or you were just genuinely that oblivious, Satoru couldn’t tell. By way of punishment, he dug his fangs into the curve of your ass, his ears perking up to better catch the pitchy bark you only halfway choked down in response. Your hands darted to your face, covering your mouth. Good. You were finally catching on.

He edged your thighs apart with his shoulders, settling between your legs. Admittedly, he didn’t have much experience with other hybrids save for the videos he caught Suguru watching every now and then, but he was a smart cat, and the details weren’t that hard to figure out. You were already wet — your cunt slick and glistening in the bedroom’s dim light. Experimentally, Satoru ran his tongue over the length of your cunt, his rough bristles catching on the sensitive skin. You let out another strangled noise, something between a groan and a whimper, before whining. “Wait, I— That feels—”

“Quiet,” he hissed, the command forced out between pointed fangs. “Or are you just too stupid to keep your mouth shut?”

He felt you stiffen above him, then shift. When you spoke, your voice was muted, barely above a whisper. If he hadn’t known better, he might’ve thought you sounded a little upset. “Right, ‘toru. I’m sorry.”

Satisfaction coursed through him, as warm as sunlight on concrete. Maybe you were good for something, after all.

He couldn’t afford to waste more time on your impromptu training. He settled back into place, shutting his eyes and letting instinct take over. The flat of his tongue fit perfectly over your pussy, never leaving more than an inch of you exposed at a time. You wriggled, and when that didn’t help, buried your face in a pile of bedsheets and moaned. Suguru never so much as stirred.

He couldn’t get to enough of you, like this. Curling his hands around your thighs, he dragged you back, creating more room between you and the edge of the mattress — room that he was quick to fill. You were starting to drip, now, and Satoru lapped up your arousal before a drop could go to waste. You tasted sweet. Not saccharine or sugary, but sweet. Like fresh cream or raw honey. Like uncooked meat.

Hungrily, he pushed deeper, letting the curled tip of his tongue slip inside of you. Your body twitched underneath him, but that didn’t matter, you weren’t strong enough for it to matter. Holding you down was child’s play, but as always, you failed to acknowledge the prowess of your betters. Your smaller body continued to buck and writhe while he curled and flexed his tongue inside of you, his broadened feline nose grinding against your clit all the while. You were getting loud again, but for whatever reason, he found it hard to be annoyed by your little pained noises. Probably because it was the closest thing to an intelligent sound you would ever make.

It happened too quickly to savor. Your thighs shuddered around his head, your cunt clenching around him, and then, you were cumming on his tongue. It was humiliating and hot and twitchy, and he drank it down without stopping to think. When the aftershocks waned, you slumped into the bed, exhausted when all you’d done was lie there and take what he was kind enough to give you. He should’ve expected as much, really. You’d always been an ungrateful mutt.

Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he pushed himself to his feet. You raised your head, tracking him as he silently padded across the room. The last thing he saw before he closed the door was your wide, glassy eyes, unblinking and unfalteringly trained on him.

~

You didn’t leave the bedroom the next day, or the day after that. Satoru lounged outside your door as Suguru came and went, looking paler and more strung-out than usual, toting medication or blankets or water bottles by the armfuls. The door was kept shut, but even from the corridor, he could smell you. Not that dirty, muggy, wet-dog smell no amount of Suguru’s expensive hair products could wash away, but the other one. Raw meat, sweet and fresh and bloody.

On the third day of your quarantine, Suguru had to go out. “Work emergency,” he explained, as he pulled on his shoes. A plain folder was tucked under his arm, and he’d been scowling for the past fifteen minutes. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

Satoru watched from the other side of the corridor. His tail thrashed to either side, sweeping over the floor. “And the dog?”

“(Y/n)?” Suguru grimaced. “I’ll handle it when I get back.”

He grinned, closing the distance between them. He crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet and resting his cheek against Suguru’s inner thigh. “I can help.”

A calloused hand landed on top of his head. Satoru began to lean into it, but fingertips quickly knotted themselves in his hair and dragged him away by force. “I’ll handle it when I get back,” he repeated, his voice as dense and as heavy as lead. “Behave yourself.”

Satoru huffed, rolling his eyes. Suguru left without another word and for once, Satoru wasn’t sad to see him go.

The bedroom door was locked. Amateur mistake. Closed doors only made cats more curious. Satoru used one of his claws to unhook the fastener and let himself in. Your scent had been strong, at a distance. Inside, it was suffocating. The air seemed thick with it, as hot and as humid as the flesh of a fresh kill. Satoru closed his eyes, breathing it in. Maybe, if you were always so appealing, he could forget how much he hated you.

You were a wreck. Curled up on the center of the bed, your knees pulled up against your chest and your tail tucked between your legs. You’d piled sheets and blankets around yourself, walling yourself in to a miserable little den. You were still wearing Suguru’s shirt, but just barely, the thin material bunched up above the curve of your chest. There was something inside of you, too — bright pink and bulbed where it pressed against your cunt. A toy, molded in the shape of a knotted cock.

Immediately, Satoru’s smile fell away. As if you needed something like that when you had him.

You barely acknowledged him. There was a slight lift of your head as he climbed onto the mattress, a low whimper as he trampled over your makeshift barriers, but that was all. You only looked at him once he was on top of you — his larger form bent over yours. Your face was flushed, your hair plastered down with sweat. You blinked lazily at him, your usual intensity dulled into something soft and liquid. Your entire body radiated warmth, so strong he could feel it from inches away.

You were in heat.

Perfect.

“Wake up, puppy.” You eyes were already open, but he slapped your cheek softly for good measure. “I need your help.”

“‘toru?” Airy and uncertain, as if you didn’t recognize him. As if anyone else would bother to check on you. “I can’t really— I’m in a lot of—”

“Then you’re useless.” You shrank that much smaller. Satoru took you by the shoulder, pawing you onto your back. “Fine. When Suguru comes home, I can tell him that you don’t want to do your job, anymore. That you’d rather just lie around and whine. That you’d rather be in the pound.”

“No!” You clenched your eyes shut, features scrunching. “Please, please don’t. I can— I’ll do anything you want. Just— Anything but that.”

His hand fell to your knee. “Spread your legs.”

Despite your begging, you were reluctant. “It hurts, ‘toru.”

“Do you want me to make it hurt more?”

Your ears flattened against your head. He could see the corner of your lips begin to curl back, the thinnest sliver of pointed teeth, but it was gone just as soon as it’d appeared. Obediently, you held still while he pried your thighs apart, pushing until your knees were flat against the bed. That ugly thing was still inside of you. He tore it out as quickly as he could, your hips chasing the toy despite your pained mewls. As if you needed it. As if it did anything for you that he couldn’t do better.

With it gone, your pussy clenched around nothing. You were dripping wet, literally. Slick coated the inside of your thighs, dampening the sheets underneath you. Satoru lapped as much as he could up before letting his mouth drift north — to your navel, then your neck. He could feel your pulse beating under your skin, as fast and as frantic as any prey animal. You were scared of him.

His cock twitched. He wasn’t going to last much longer, at this rate.

Pulling away, he forced himself to focus on your cunt. His cock was hard to the touch, the slanted head already beginning to leak. He wasted time he didn’t have lining himself up, giving you a chance to crane your neck and squeak, recoiling hastily. Satoru laughed.

“You’ve never mated with a cat, have you?”

A beat of hesitation, then a quick shake of your head. Of course not. He’d be surprised if you even knew the meaning of the word.

Most cat-hybrids had some kind of barb, larger species included. You wouldn’t have noticed them last time you saw his cock, too focused on choking him down to wonder what was pricking the inside of your mouth. They weren’t meant to cause pain. Most female cat-hybrids had a way to deal with the discomfort, but you weren’t a cat-hybrid.

And judging by the look on your face, you’d realized that too.

He pushed into you before you without warning, without giving you a chance to pull away. The sound you made was pitiful — so pitchy and so heartbreaking and so, so good. He pulled back just as harshly, pounding into you again, and again, and again, a pathetic little sound meeting every thrust. Your body writhed and twisted beneath his, more snared rabbit than cornered dog. He could feel your claws on his back, scratching away at his skin, make out the bulge of his cock through your lower stomach. He ground his hips into yours and you arched against him, your open mouth finding the side of his throat. It took long, clumsy seconds for your dull teeth to break his skin. If he hadn’t known better, he might’ve thought you were actually trying to hurt him.

It was a testament to Satoru’s feline superiority that he didn’t cum on the spot. Rather, he savored the feeling of your saliva dripping down his neck and fucked you that much harder, giving into the needy, instinctual part of himself that howled for something to claim, something to have. Because that’s what you were, weren’t you? Suguru had gotten you for him. You were in a comfortable bed instead of a concrete cell because of him. You were pampered and coddled and loved because he needed you. You were his. You were—

His conscious thoughts broke off into a euphorically empty void. His hands caught underneath your knees, shoving your legs up until they pressed into your chest. Your body folded perfectly underneath him, your mouth finally unlatching in favor of moaning, whining, screaming — every sound you were capable of making melding together in Satoru’s sensitive ears to form one prolonged declaration of gratitude. Your pussy clenched around him, and he buried himself that much deeper inside of you. Warmth flooded through him and filled you to bursting, the excess forming a white ring around the base of his cock. He couldn’t be mad. The only thing you’d ever done right was take what he had to give you.

When it was over, he didn’t move. He stayed here, prone on top of you, watching his cum leak out of your ungrateful body. When he could stand to look away, he found your wide eyes boring into him, glossy with tears and all-but vacant. Your heat had broken, leaving behind only raw hurt in its place.

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you, puppy,” he laughed, licking a stripe up your cheek. For the first time, you grimaced, melting away from him. Not that it mattered.

It wasn’t as if he was ever going to let you go again.

“How could I ever hate my adorable mate?”

[shamebats]

"it's just stress" oh thank god, it's just the silent killer that slowly kills you, perfectly harmless, no need to worry

[3-aem]

Exercise

[grenadineghost]

you want to be mommy’s adjective noun, don’t you, pet name? you want to verb and verb for mommy like a good gender