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madaqueue · 8 months ago

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FRANKENSTEIN, THE MONSTER

"all-consuming love." who is consumed, and who is loved? shoko loves by knowing, by exploring, by experimenting. and you will always feed her curiosity. you will always let her consume.

pairing: surgeon!shoko x f!reader

themes/content: smut. fingering (reader receiving), knives, blood, shoko is such a freak idek. 18+, MDNI (wk: 1.9k)

a/n: so. this one might just be for me. this is weird and sapphic and nasty and is honestly written for me so. enjoy :)

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Shoko must have opioids in her voice. There’s no other explanation for how she seamlessly relaxes you, quieting your shaking muscles and racing thoughts. Every syllable another drip, drip, drip of morphine straight into your veins.

It makes you feel high, sometimes, to be around her. Just to hear her speak, the razor edge to her voice that could slice through your skin with ease (she has), the way her eyes dig into you as though she can see what lies beneath your flesh (she has).

“You ready, baby?” she hums through the cloth mask obscuring her face. It makes you pout - you want to see her, see her pretty lips and smile and the lines that form along her cheeks. But she just chuckles at you. “You know I have to wear this, it’s for your safety.”

“I know,” you huff. You would cross your arms if they weren’t restrained, outstretched to your sides. “Another precaution, for your safety,” she called it, and you, as always, trusted her judgement.

Shoko is so much smarter than you, you see. She would never say such a thing, but she doesn’t have to - she carries herself with an air of intelligence, the clear lines of her mind cutting into those around her. Always direct, because she doesn’t believe in wasting her time nor anybody else’s; always focused on results, regardless of the price it takes to get them; always harsh, because it’s easier than being soft. So yes, you trust her (you’d be an idiot not to).

“Okay, it’s going to sting for a moment, but then it’ll get better.” Her voice sounds like red wine and cherries. You wonder if she’d taste as sweet.

Just as you think you can nearly feel her on your tongue, every nerve in your body fires.

It burns.

It always burns. You always forget, maybe an after-effect of the other medications she gives you, but fuck does it burn. Every cell in your body is captured by the flames of your devotion, smoke filling the caverns between your bones.

And then, it gets better.

The blazing inferno dulls to embers, prickling at your skin. It’s so warm, the cold air hitting your bare skin barely even there anymore.

Is anything there, anymore?

Your head swirls in that sweet familiar way. Everything is hazy, your vision pulsing with each increasingly slow beat of your heart.

Thump.

It feels good.

Thump.

You giggle.

“Feeling it, darling?” Shoko coos from above you.

“Mmm,” you hum, and you can tell by the sound you’re smiling.

“Good.” And you think she must be smiling, too.

You bet she has her lipstick on under that mask. You wish you could taste it, the chalky thickness pouring down your throat.

“I’m going to get started now, okay?”

Oh, how you love her voice. Sweet like chocolate. Like dark, dark chocolate. Almost bitter, to someone who didn’t know it. Who couldn’t appreciate the way it melts on your tongue.

“Ookaayyy,” you draw out the vowels. They make little shapes in the air. They’re all red.

Shoko loves red.

Her laugh is red.

Like right now. She’s laughing as she takes a seat between your legs.

“Y’so pretty, Sho,” you slur at the sight of her body hovering below you. She’s blurry, you can’t quite focus on her, just like an angel. If you stare too long, you’ll fall into her. You don’t look away.

“Thank you.” There’s a curl of a grin at the end. “Are you ready?”

“Always ready. Anything f’you, baby.” You giggle again.

She rolls her eyes, making you laugh more. You love her. (She loves you).

The sound of metal clanging draws your clouded attention as she rummages through the tray nearby. When she pulls a scalpel from it, you frown.

“You promised no knives today.”

“I know, darling,” she reassures. Drip. Drip. Drip. “I’m just testing your senses to make sure the medicine worked, okay?”

Drip.

“Okay,” you smile. Just like that, it’s all better. All your worries swept under the blanket of your dedication. All your fears smoothed by the lines around her eyes.

You’d let her burn you alive if she asked. If it would help her learn. If it would make her happy.

Silently, she returns her gaze to her true purpose - your body. Nimble hands uncap the scalpel, the silver reflecting the fluorescent lights overhead. It’s sharp, you know it’s sharp, you have the scars littered across your body to prove it: a few winding around your legs, some along your abdomen, one large one extending up your chest. When she opens you, you’re never quite sure exactly what she’s looking for; you aren’t sure if she knows, either. But nevertheless, she always stitches you back up. She always puts you back together.

And you love the scars. Shoko loves them, too. Sometimes, you find her tracing her fingers over them in the dark. That’s much gentler than the knife.

So yes, you know the scalpel is sharp, sharper than nails or teeth, and you love when hers scrape along your flesh. Sometimes you wish they’d leave scars in the same way.

It’s odd to watch her lower it to your skin - normally, you’re not awake for this part. You wonder if she always uses this much care with you, her pinky resting along your hip, as though she needed stability. Shoko is the most stable person you know, unshakable to her core. An earthquake could rattle the support beams of her mind and her ideals would never collapse. You love that about her, you love that no matter what, she’ll always be the one left standing.

It’s also odd to see how much you bleed. It’s such a small cut - you didn’t know you had so much blood in you. And yet, gauze after gauze comes up red.

Red. All red. Red insides, red outsides. Blood like cherries.

“Did you feel that?”

You try to shake your head before realizing it’s too heavy. “Nooope.”

“Good,” she hums. Heat tickles the inside of your stomach. You like when she says that. You like being good.

The stool swivels as she scrawls in her notebook nearby.

Patient endorses no sensory response to painful stimuli following administration of analgesics, paralytics, and anesthetics.

She changes her gloves smoothly, snapping each one against her wrist as she draws them over her fingers. Warmth floods your cheeks as you remember the way they feel inside you, her flesh and yours, muscles contracting. You love her hands. They’re rough in all the right ways, burned fingertips and chipped nail polish.

With a calculated inhale, she places the scalpel aside.

If you weren’t as close with her, you’d surely feel further embarrassed by the way she moves to focus her gaze between your legs. But you just feel warm, her eyes dripping in adoration mixed with curiosity. It’s good to be useful.

Her eyes flit to meet yours for the briefest moment, fire crackling behind them. “You’re blushing,” she observes. Always so observant, your Shoko. Seeing everything, feeling some things. It helps her process, you think.

“S’for you.”

Her skin feels cold through the latex as she spreads your folds.

“And you’re wet.”

“That’s f’you, too,” you smile.

That makes her smile, you’re sure of it, the pride blooming in her chest and growing up her neck until it reaches her teeth, blossoming through her lips.

She hums in acknowledgement. Maybe that’s why she wears the mask - so you don’t see the red burning her cheeks.

Her shoulders shift, and you can tell she’s moving, even if you don’t feel it as one slender finger slowly enters you. For this part, she keeps her eyes on you.

“You’re sure you don’t feel that?” she prompts, studying your reaction.

“Don’t feel a thing.” And it’s truer than she could know - you barely feel the table beneath you, the rough straps holding you in place, you aren’t even sure if you feel her presence anymore. But you know it’s there, and that’s enough.

“Hmm.” One eyebrow quirks above the other - she’s thinking. You don’t see her insert a second finger into your aching core. You don’t hear a soft wet sound slowly fill the sterile air as she pumps in and out of you. “What about now?”

With as much determination as you can muster in this state, you try to sense what she’s doing, sending exploratory signals down the nerves of your body, only to be met with warm, warm, warm.

Your eyes flutter as you hum a quiet, “Nothin’.”

You look so sweet when you’re on the verge of sleep, but unfortunately, she can’t let you rest. She can’t risk ruining her experiment, after all.

“Come on, darling, stay with me, okay?”

And she lulls you from one bliss to another, the fountain of unconsciousness to the oasis of her voice. You’d drink from her every time.

“M’here,” you mumble.

She chuckles. She loves you. (You love her).

You still can’t see what she’s doing, but you don’t care. You’d let her do anything to you, to your body, and then you’d let her do it again. You’d let her cut you open and rearrange your insides until it fits her idea of perfection, until her curiosity is satisfied, until her name is carved into your skin.

But whatever she’s doing seems to have your body at attention, your muscles growing taut. The beat of your heart is louder.

Thump.

Thump thump.

Thump thump thump thump thump.

“Sho,” you moan, “somthin’s happening.”

“I know, love, it’s okay.”

More saccharine morphine. But this time it doesn’t sedate you - it awakens you.

“Sho.”

With a cry of her name, euphoria floods your body. It’s different than before, different than the fluids flowing into your IV. This is uniquely her in some way - it’s familiar in the way her body is. Hot skin and desperate gasps and red lipstick. It’s flames everywhere. It’s warmth. It’s perfect.

Thump thump.

Thump.

The erratic raise and fall of your lungs slows as your mind swirls.

Thump.

And Shoko breathes a sigh of awe.

In a moment, she’s pulling off her gloves, tossing them to the side with her mask. You can’t see it, you can’t see her, you can’t see anything, it’s all blurry. You’re underwater, drowning in red. It feels good in your chest.

Her pen drags along the paper:

Patient successfully achieved orgasm through manual stimulation, in spite of lacking sensory input. Confirmed via palpating internal muscle contractions.

Experiment trial 01 concluded.

Status: Success

And then, her focus returns to you.

Lips press to the inside of your thighs, and you can feel it. You shiver.

“You did so good for me,” she hums into your skin. “I didn’t know if you could, but you did. You amaze me.”

You giggle through your haze. “Love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” Another red-lipstick kiss. “My best research subject.”

And you’re warm. So, so warm.

She slowly releases the restraints on your body, rubbing her fingers into your flesh as sensation returns, tingling flames shooting down each sore limb, calmed only by her touch. She’s your antidote, your life support, your medicine. And good girls always take their medicine.

You let her do anything to your body, because ultimately, it’s hers. You let her cut you up because you know, no matter what, she’ll always be there to put you back together.

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growth-opportunities · 2 months ago

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A book review of "Meditate your way to bigger breasts."

RATING: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

WARNING: THIS REALLY WORKS!

I'll admit, I bought this book as a skeptic. I've never found much use to meditation but I wanted bigger breasts and I thought, what the hell, there are worse reasons to take up meditation.

I skimmed through the first few chapters and thought I got the gist of it and started meditating, twenty minutes a day every other day. I told myself I would keep going for four weeks and, if I didn't see any progress, I could chuck the book in the fireplace and be done with it. In some ways, the meditation worked like traditional meditation because it made me very aware of just how unaware I am of myself. I was ready to give up entirely, thinking I had completely failed to grow at all, until almost halfway through the fourth week when my bra couldn't close. I had somehow remained completely oblivious to my own growth, unable to see it happening literally under my nose. I was so excited! I had gone up two cup sizes in less than a month! That was all I really wanted anyway, just a little boost up top to give me some decent cleavage, so I counted that as a rousing success.

No, you might be thinking, if it worked so well, why didn't I give it five stars? And why is it a "warning" that the technique works?

Well, after it worked so well, I showed the book to my girlfriend. She was also very pleased with the results and made her pleasure known. That was a fun night. Over the next couple of weeks, I let the thoughts about the book pass without giving them much weight and went about my life, happy with my new size. But my new size didn't stay my new size. Another week went by, no meditation, but I saw another cup size. Another week brought two more. As fun as it was, I was starting to get worried. What if it wasn't the meditation, but I was having some kind of bizarre medical episode. My girlfriend was quick to calm me, usually with her lips around my nipple, but it was still a bit concerning, especially when I outgrew the largest bra I could find at three different stores. Even paying for rush delivering on a custom bra would have it getting to me too late, outgrowing it by the time it arrived.

It was only when I insisted that my girlfriend take me to a doctor that she came clean. I figured she had thrown the book out, but she had kept it. Studied it. Figured out that she could give me the mantras while I was asleep. I wasn't too happy about nearly quadrupling my "perfect" size, now big enough to nearly cover my bellybutton, but at least I wasn't in danger. But I was going to have to get her back.

Honestly, being such a buxom couple isn't a terrible thing! We get some stares as we bounce walk down the street, but our sex life is a very, very jiggly now! She's twice as big as I am!

TL;DR - The book works great, but be careful with it! It's easy to get greedy.

#breast expansion #breast growth #breast obsession #breast envy #size greed #forced growth #cw medical #GO asks

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kabr0ztrousers · 2 months ago

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I am also a big fan of minotaurs - u might have gathered that from my last request lol 🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️ (but ik you are too!!) What about a fem reader who catches/traps a mintotaur and milks THEM for a change?? lots of cum, bondage, maybe a bit of inspection kink? i feel like that would be hot, but pls exercise your full artistic licence. can’t wait to see what u come up with ! 🥵❤️‍🔥

-🪽

Kabr0z Writes episode 110: Bull Milk

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

This series also on Ao3!

CWs: bondage; intoxication; somno; semen collection; oral sex

A/N: I'm grateful for the outpouring of suggestions after yesterday's (kinda) double bill! I remind you all, this show runs on requests so if you have an idea, even if you're not sure about it, send it in!

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Alchemy is messy business at the best of times. When you've been given a commission to produce potions of libido and fertility for the local monarch, it only gets messier. Most of the reagents aren't too bad: some garlic oil, some honey, mandrake, powdered bezoar, stuff any self-respecting alchemist's kit would contain. The real problem was the key component. Minotaur cum, freshly squeezed.

That's what brought you to this windswept plain. Nothing but dry grass and dust as far as the eye can see which, on the few moments the scathing wind dies down, is pretty damn far. The plan was simple enough: trap a minotaur and extract semen. Get a hundred or so fluid ounces, then you could get back to the city. The only hard part is actually trapping a minotaur without him deciding you look like his next meal, or his mate.

You'd brought windbreaks with you, long strips of canvas, as wide as you are tall. Setting them up was a nightmare but as the last pole sank into the sunbaked soil, the breaker itself can be tied to them and immediately makes a barrier to the whipping dust. Within hours you'd made a dune, a ridgeline in the plain, invisible from one side, a six-foot drop on the other into a dozen tanglevines. They'd hold a minotaur, no problem. At least for the day or so until they start to rot.

Now just to find a minotaur. It's an audacious plan, It'll only work from one direction, but you had faith. Lying on your dune in the dawn light, you scanned the horizon through a spyglass. Sure enough, the lumbering mountain that is a plains minotaur came across the grasses. You blew on a hunting horn you'd purchased. The roar of a minotaur in rut echoed from your instrument. The one noise guaranteed to bring a raging bull-man tearing towards you. He hadn't seen you yet, minotaurs have terrible eyesight at range, and he's only on the edge of the range of your spyglass.

You ducked behind your dune and waited for the inevitable. The minotaur thundered up the slope, missed his step, and tumbled into the waiting trap. Tanglevines whipped around him, pinning his arms to his broad torso, wrapping his legs together. The beast was felled into a snorting, struggling heap. Your bag opened. A little of the pinkish one, a touch of the green, maybe a dab of the vermilion powder for luck. A quick shake, and you'd made what you reckoned would be enough to settle him down. One way to find out.

You filled a syringe with the mixture, hedging your bets by using a dose on the low end for what you'd really want to give 300lbs of prime beef that's trying its hardest to break free in order to kill and-or fuck you. That loaded into a gun of sorts, and then was poised at the thrashing beastie. A click. A thud. The drug worked fast, and we was quietened.

You stepped up to him, rolling the monster to his back. You'll have to work fast, and in the open air. The horn will have been heard by more than just one, if you're lucky you'll meet a dozen or so heifers looking to join an up-and-coming harem. If you're unlucky, you'll get a beast the size of this one charging you.

You checked his pulse. Still alive. Good! A hammer to the knee told you his reflexes were still working, which is also promising. His breathing was slow and deep, like an induced sleep. Which is, of course, exactly what you've put him under. Satisfied he's still functional and not likely to wake up and murder you, your attention turned to the business end of the beast.

Feral minotaurs only fashion clothes where it's cold. These plains aren't chilly enough to need them, so they don't bother. As a result, his sack was exposed for all to see. Large, pendulous balls, stinking of testosterone and musk. Exactly what you need. You laid your hand on one, watching it droop away from the warmth of your touch. His penis hid within the prepuce, or "sheath" as less scientific minds refer to it. Exposure of the phallus is simple. You grabbed the base of the sheath, grasping the semi-soft flesh within. His cock extended slowly as the beast mooed softly in his sleep. You could only imagine the buxom cow woman he was envisioning as you held him. The cock grew until well over eighteen inches long, and four in diameter at the flare. Your hand struggled to wrap around it even at the thinnest point, just where the meat of the shaft reaches the flared head.

Now for the fun part. You grabbed a length of tubing from your bag, hooking it up to a modified waterskin. The end of the tube slid into the insensible minotaur's urethra, and you got to work.

Your hands rubbed his cock up and down, trying to keep him hard and stimulate him enough to get what you came for. The gentle huffing and snorting from his mouth told you you're on the right path, but you're going to need more... Direct methods.

You abandoned the tube idea. Fitting a funnel to your collection vessel, you sat on his belly. The cock in front of you smelled just as much as his balls, thick musk cut with acidic sweat and stale cum. Once experienced, never forgotten. You steeled yourself, holding on to the cock with both hands as you leant over it. You planted a kiss on the head of his cock.

The whole thing throbbed. Your tongue traced the edge of his sensitive flare. You watched as he oozed great drops of precum, spilling out of him in a sticky, slow moving river. The smell of the fluids emanating from him made you gag, but they also made you wet. One of your hands slid from his cock, sneaking under the waistband of your trousers to get at your moist cunt.

On and on he leaked, on and on you rubbed. You could feel yourself getting closer. You were getting off to this feral beast in front of you. His cock was so hard in your hand, spitting globs of thick, stinking precum that covered your mouth and chin. Your cunt buzzed with sensation, your breath quickened with his. You shifted your hand, focusing on your tingling clit as you crested your peak, sucking his juices straight out of his cock as you groaned into it.

Seconds later, he started to cum. You pulled the cock over, aiming the stream of thick white spunk into the funnel. Pulse after pulse shot into the skin, filling it up gradually as you watched his balls churn. Every pump of the cock in your hand made his balls tighten a little more. The skin passed halfway full, still he showed no signs of stopping. Ever more of his potent seed flowed out of him.

Eventually you got enough, stoppering the skin and letting him pump the last few ropes of cum over his broad chest.

This potion's going to be great

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It's so weird to do a Dominant reader again so soon! Don't worry, back to my usual tricks soon

Once again, thanks for reading and remember, I won't know your request until you send it, and my ask box is open for exactly that

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spindrifters · 4 months ago

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hello hi. weird (but ultimately good!) update.

some of you know I've been dealing with chronic migraines and brain fog for the last year and a half. hence the lack of writing output and being way less present around here. but what I haven't talked about, even in my offline life, because it was scary and talking about it made it real, is that during that time I was also struggling with increasing cognitive/language confusion as well as executive function.

it's actually insane how many "oh, this is the problem and here's how to manage it" moments I've had during that time, only for them to end up being red herrings. or, more accurately, knock-on effects of the core issue--which I finally have a diagnosis for.

(putting the rest under the cut for medical cw)

yesterday I found out that I have chiari, which means that my cerebellum is herniating through the bottom of my skull into my cervical spine. tldr, my brain's falling into my neck.

this sounds a lot scarier than it actually is, mainly because there's a relatively easy fix and I'm just SO relieved to have answers. most people with chronic pain/illness don't get that, or at least not until after a decade or two of pushing for it. so with that said, I'm probably having decompression neurosurgery in a few months. waiting on some more test results to come back before we can set an exact date.

I don't know, it feels so classically ao3 to be like "hey here's this crazy medical diagnosis, sorry I haven't updated in a while." I'm literally posting this before telling most of my offline friends. but the fact is, I really miss you guys. I really miss this community. I really miss writing. and I just wanted to share all of this with you because a) I might get my life back!!!!! but also b) it's genuinely kind of funny. and also a lot more rare than I first realized?? when I told my cousin who's a doctor about it, he was like "I'm sorry, what do you mean you have chiari?? is this an episode of house???"

so yeah idk, hit me with your best trepanning or 'brain too fat' jokes or something.

xo zo <3

#cw medical #zo chats

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gothpossums · 7 months ago

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last words of a shooting star

#mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #apparently i am not immune to the dental hygiene game. had to draw my beautiful wife #the flowers are carnations which symbolize motherhood in flower language #mouthwashing fanart #horror art #wrong organ #cw gore #cw medical #artists on tumblr #cw pregnancy

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ghoul-slime · 11 days ago

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Ok, but how about Dr. Aether performing hole inspections on all the ghouls returning home from the first leg of tour. He slips on a pair of gloves and is very pleased to find that of all the ghouls, Dew is still nice and tight - just as tight as the day he left, in fact.

Phantom, on the other hand, not so much. He slides a finger inside and is surprised to find him wet and loose. His little bug has clearly been very well-used throughout the tour. And Phantom, sitting there with his legs in the stirrups, completely bare from the waist down, is red-faced and blushing and so very ashamed. He’s sure that Aether is disappointed in him, that he’s going to scold him and tell him that he’s completely let them all down with his bad behavior.

But instead, Aether slips two more fingers inside and tells him what a good boy he’s been. How proud of him he is for clearly servicing their pack so well and so often throughout a long, hard tour. And now, Phantom is lightheaded and blushing at Aether’s praise, so, so proud of himself for doing such a good job. In fact, he’s done such a good job that Aether rewards him with another nice, big cock up his ass right then and there.

#cw medical #cw medfet #aether ghoul #aether/phantom #aether/dew #dewther #aether x phantom #aeon ghoul #aether/aeon #dewdrop ghoul

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quarterlifekitty · 5 months ago

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(just had a gynecologist appt this morning and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much of a dog Soap would be about it)

he’d beg to watch or something like the perv he is

or maybe if we’re being really nasty:

gynecologist!Soap that only chose this profession so he can stuff his fingers into pussies all day :(( he doesn’t discriminate either, he likes all kinds of cunts!! Can’t have any pussy suffering or feeling sick on his watch (he’s a pussy pronoun user)

But he gets real excited when a pretty thing like you walks into his office, likes making you squirm and blush all awkwardly

don’t worry about it, bonnie, s'all part of the exam :3 he’s just checking if your g-spot is healthy!! There she goes, soaking his fingers and trying to suck him in deeper <3

You know there were a lot of boys who said that thing about wanting to be gynecologists in middle school and I will never forget my music teacher saying “you know that women usually go to the gynecologist when there’s something wrong with them, right?” And they shut the fuck up

Also I believe @/peachesofteal has a gyn!Price AU that I recommend you check out if you’re into that.

lol NO ONE walks into the obgyn and expects seeing a built dude with a Mohawk basically busting out of his scrubs and smiling at you with wolf teeth.

Also YES pussy pronouns. A staple of the 141, imo.

And this may be too freak nasty for you but uhhhm…. DentistsOffice!141.

CW: medical, dental, dubcon/noncon, obsession, somno

Obsessed with you and shoving their fingers in your mouth and against your teeth. Let’s be real Soap would love smelling your breath and every day is a constant battle for him to resist spitting in there right after he tells you to open wide.

Price and Nikolai looming over you, remarking on your oral hygiene, stroking the tips of your canines. Calling you a good girl every time you follow any instruction whatsoever— opening your mouth, rinsing with all of the mouthwash, moving your tongue out of the way. The way they praise your good care and tut when you’ve been slacking is insanely motivating

You know Soap is obsessed with the molds they make of your teeth (I know that’s orthodontic primarily don’t @ me). If he uses some silicon in the molds to take a little something home that’s his business iykyk

Gaz who’s the resident anesthetist. And you KNOW they always recommend general anesthesia for every fuckin minor procedure they can so you can be passed out and vulnerable under them. Gaz gently explaining what it’s going to feel like as you go under, telling you to keep counting as the mask gets secured over your mouth.

And if you insist you can’t go under general, you don’t have anyone to come with you or drive you home after, that’s ok. Their technician Simon is actually getting off his shift around when the procedure ends. He’d be happy to drive you home and help you rinse with saline, replace your cotton :) and if something else happens to slip in your mouth while you’re still all dazed and relaxed, what’s the harm?

And miraculously, your insurance (I know I look like an American rn don’t @ me) always covers the whole thing with no issue! They just call them up, and suddenly the copay disappears. So it’s no trouble to go often— you might as well take advantage!

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