#kink prompt answer

[shhhsecretsideblog]

a fic with both partners in labor?

I had a few requests for No.11 off my prompts list so I’ve tried to group these together into one story. Turns out writing mutual preg / birth is exhausting haha. First time answering a request / prompt, this one ended up a lot longer than I’d expected - 4.9k words. Hope you like :)

Girls Night Out

Leaning against the sink Rachel took a long deep breath and swayed her hips side to side to ease the tightening that was banding across her belly. It was the fourth one she’d felt since they arrived at the bar and they’d not even been here that long. Every wave that crested slowly told her what was coming.

The girls had decided to have a final evening out - dinner at a fancy restaurant followed by drinks at their favourite cocktail bar - the whole gang together one more time before the babies arrived. Rachel and her wife Emily were both pregnant and together they were soon to be the parents of two little baby girls. They’d been happily married for five years before they started looking into having children and Rachel and Emily were both keen to experience pregnancy. When they discovered a new fertility option being offered to same-sex couples they jumped at it. Rather than carrying their own genetic embryo, they each had the other’s fertilised egg implanted; Rachel was pregnant with Emily’s egg, and Emily was pregnant with Rachel’s. Not wanting to do things by half, they went through with the IVF at the same time and against all odds both implantations were a success. So here they were, both classed as ‘full term’ having one nostalgic evening out with their friends before their lives would change forever.

Alone in the empty restroom Rachel allowed herself to groan through the latest contraction. She should have realised sooner that she might be in labour, she was a trained midwife after all and should recognise these things. Clearly her ability to self-diagnose was severely lacking. Whilst Rachel wasn’t a practising midwife anymore, having given it up a few years ago, Emily was adamant she wanted Rachel to be the one to deliver her baby. Rachel was honoured to be bringing both their children into the world, as midwife and as birthing mother. She thought she had retained a decent level of midwifery intuition even after quitting the vocation, but “baby brain” had recently started to affect her. She was convinced Emily was having contractions earlier but her wife said she could barely feel them and were just braxton hicks. Rachel wished she could say the same but the contraction kept on squeezing and tightening her rounded stomach pressing everything downward. The baby’s head sitting heavily in her hips made everything feel so damn low.

A sudden wave of nausea washed over her and Rachel bolted into a cubical. Falling to her knees she vomited the meal they’d just spent an extortionate amount of money for. She grasped her hair with one hand and cupped the swell of her stomach with the other as she retched over the porcelain. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d thrown up in these toilets, but previously she’d been extremely drunk, not to mention a lot younger. It was a very different type of night out. When her stomach had emptied she wiped her mouth and blew her nose and was about to blame poor cooking for her sickness when she noticed a wetness dripping down the inside of her thighs. It was promptly followed by another more aggressive contraction.

Yup, this is definitely labour, no denying it now. She thought to herself, riding out the wave kneeling on the bathroom floor. She quickly discovered that contractions were much stronger after your waters break, now understanding exactly what all her previous patients had gone through. Breathing deeply until it passed, Rachel then managed to stand up and return to the sink. Shit, she definitely looked like a woman in labour now. Sweat had started to gather on her forehead and her cheeks were looking flush and rosey. She’d seen these signs plenty of times before but hoped no one else would catch on as quick. They’d have to end the evening early now. She would need to go back out to the bar, find a way to discreetly tell her wife that the baby was coming, so they could make their excuses and head home and on to the birth centre. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to look a bit more composed, when suddenly the toilet door crashed open.

“Oh my god, Rachel!” Her friend Eve spluttered in a frenzied panic. “You have to come quick. Emily’s water has just broken, she’s in labour!”

You’re kidding, Rachel thought.

“What happened?” She asked, immediately worrying about her wife and following Eve out of the toilets.

“I don’t know. One minute we were giggling over old uni stories and the next, splash. I think Steph’s bag took the worst hit.” Eve couldn’t help the smirk that pulled her lips despite the serious situation.

“Is she having contractions?” Rachel asked, cupping her large swell as she waddled as fast as she could to keep up with Eve down the long corridor.

“If she was, she didn’t say until her water broke. She had been shifting and grimacing a bit, but she said it was just the baby kicking.”

Rachel scoffed, realising now that her intuition had been spot on; Emily had been having contractions. But then why didn’t she say anything!? As if in response, Rachel’s own belly started to cramp. Emily was probably hiding it for the same reason Rachel was - not to ruin the evening.

“Oof- hang on a second Eve…” Rachel said breathlessly, stopping in the corridor and placing a hand against the wall to steady herself. “Mmmmhhhh…”

“What are you-” Eve stopped, turning around, seeing Rachel holding her bump and breathing deeply. “Oh no. No way. Rachel please tell me you’re not in labour too!”

“Hooooo- I didn’t exactly plan this- ooooohh…” Rachel said through controlled breaths.

“This is what you get for getting pregnant at the same time! I said you two were mad.”

“Oh Eve… please don’t start…” Rachel whimpered as the contraction peaked.

Immediately feeling guilty Eve quickly ran over to her friend. “I’m sorry.” She said, rubbing a hand up and down Rachel’s back “You know I don’t mean it. You guys are incredible doing this together.”

“Thanks hun…” Rachel huffed, rocking her hips through the worst of the contraction.

“So, what’s the plan? Do we call you an Uber? An ambulance? Oh my god you’re both having your babies!”

“No! Shhhhh. We are not telling Emily I’m in labour.” Rachel urged.

“What? Why?”

“We can’t tell her. She has a birth plan, she’s been stressing over it for months. It’s bad enough she’s gone into labour here, if she finds out I’m in labour too she will freak out. Which won’t be good for her or the baby right now.”

“But what about you and your baby Rach?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m a midwife, I know how childbirth works. I can handle this.” Rachel exhaled a breath and straightened up, the contraction fading back down to just an uncomfortable pressure. “I’m more worried about Em right now.”

“Well…if you’re sure.”

“I am.” Rachel composed herself again, ready to go back out there and support her wife. “How is she doing, how bad are the contractions?”

“I think they’re pretty bad. She can’t even talk through them babes.”

Fuck. That wasn’t a good sign.

~•~•~•~•~

When Rachel and Eve returned to the bar, their friends were still sitting in their booth; Emily in the middle with Steph and Adrienne on either side. At first glance you wouldn’t know anything was wrong, but every couple of seconds people on nearby tables would look over to the group nervously. Emily’s water breaking had clearly attracted a lot of attention.

Emily looked up and saw her wife approaching and the relief in her expression was unmissable. Rachel waddled over to the table but before she arrived she watched the smile disappear from Emily’s lips. Her wife’s face abruptly scrunched up in pain and she grasped her pregnant swell. The music thumped loudly, covering up any sounds she could make, but the force of the contraction was clear by her body language alone.

Steph jumped up when Rachel arrived, allowing Rachel to awkwardly shuffle into the booth next to her wife.

“Hey. It’s okay, I’m here, I'm here. Just breathe Em. Slow, calm breaths. That’s it.” Rachel said, rubbing her upper back supportively.

Emily curled into her wife, as much as their pregnant bellies would allow, and moaned deeply against her neck. “Unhhhhh… Rach.. con-contrac- I- I…”

“Shhh you don’t have to speak. You’re doing great.” Rachel said. “Take it steady, you got this. In and out. We’ll get through this one and then we can talk.”

Rachel put a hand on Emily’s rounded stomach - the entire orb was contracting heavily, it was as solid as a rock. The way Emily moaned and squirmed in her seat, the tension stretching tight across her belly, had Rachel worried. She’d expected Emily to be in early labour, her waters simply breaking early on in the process, but it was quickly looking to be much more advanced than that.

Even with the loud music in the bar, Rachel could feel the deep groaning of her wife’s labour against her chest, the tone becoming low and gravelly. Emily’s thighs were slightly apart on the seat, her contracting belly sitting heavily between them. Another long groan escaped her wife’s lips which ended with an almost grunting sound.

Fuck, she sounds like she’s in transition already. Rachel thought worriedly, holding Emily’s hand and simultaneously rubbing her tight belly.

“Babe, I need to know what’s happening. What do you feel?” Rachel asked hesitantly.

“Mnnnggg- pressure. So much pressure…” Emily whimpered, the contraction beginning to release its grip.

“Okay, it’s gonna be fine. Just breathe, that’s it. Good girl. It’s sounding pretty intense, I think I need to check to see how dilated you are.”

“Oh no… really... Now? Here?” Emily panted.

“Do you think you can move?” Rachel asked.

“Maybe... Not far.”

“I’ll go see if they have a back room or something we can go to.” Adrienne chimed in, before disappearing to speak with the bar staff.

“Oh Rach, this is happening too fast. I don’t want to have my baby here.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Rachel reassured, kissing her forehead. “We’ll see how far you are and then we can decide what we want to do. If we go to the hospital or back home for our planned home birth.” Despite saying this, Rachel knew her own labour meant the latter wasn’t really an option.

Adrienne returned with news that the bar had a function room that wasn’t being used this evening, and they could use it for a bit of privacy. Rachel heaved her own pregnant body out of the booth and then turned to help Emily to do the same. Unfortunately the minute she stood up Rachel felt the beginning pangs of another contraction approaching.

“Adrienne, can you and Steph help take Emily to the b-back room? I don’t think I can support her my-myself.” Rachel gestured to her low-hanging bump and braced a hand on her twinging lower back.

“Of course.” Adrienne replied, putting an arm around Emily. Steph held Emily’s other arm and the three of them made their way to the function room at the back of the bar.

Rachel held it together for as long as Emily remained in eyesight but the second the girls rounded the corner Rachel spun around gripping the table hard to stop her knees from buckling.

“Ooofff- mnnnnghhh-!” She couldn’t stop the noise escaping her throat.

“Oh Rach,” Eve muttered, coming closer, shielding Rachel and her obvious contraction from the people in the bar. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I..I’ll be f-f-fine. Hoooohooo- just a rough- contraction- unghh!” Rachel grunted, ignoring the weight and pressure that was building in her pelvis.

“You sound just as bad as Emily, hun.” Eve warned.

Rachel didn’t need the comparison and glared at her friend.

“I’m just saying! You can’t expect to hide this from her. Even with her own labour going on, she’s going to notice you pushing out your other baby.”

“I know, it’s just… ooohhh- we’re not telling her here, now. I need to find out how far along she is first… hoohoo- she seems pretty far into active labour but I don’t think she knows it. Then we can head to the birth centre and we’ll both check in. Alright?”

“Whatever you want to do, we’ll help you.” Eve replied, the uncertainty clear in her voice.

When the contraction had passed, Eve helped Rachel to the empty function room. Rachel was quick to let go of Eve’s support just before they opened the door making sure not to rouse any suspicion of her own condition.

They found Emily standing in front of a table, hands planted firmly on top, hips aggressively swaying and she was groaning like a cow. Rachel swallowed the anxiety creeping up her throat, all too familiar with this sight. Steph and Adrienne stood awkward and uncomfortable by Emily’s side and immediately vacated the space on the arrival of her wife.

“Hi honey,” Rachel said softly, brushing a fallen lock of hair behind Emily’s ear and rubbing her back. “How are you doing?”

“Oohhhh god- they won’t stop. It… hurts.. the baby feels so low… unghhhh! Rachel help me!” Emily cried out.

“It looks like you're progressing fast. Don’t worry, that’s alright, but I do need to have a look to see how soon our baby is coming.”

Emily nodded, showing her understanding but couldn’t form a reply.

“Are you able to sit on a chair, or are you happy there?” Rachel asked.

“No- unhhh- can’t sit- down…” Emily panted.

“That’s okay, we can do it here. I need you to lean over the table, as far as you can. I’ll lift your dress and remove your undies, okay?”

“That’s- that’s what you said to me- on our first- date.” Emily joked, breathing slightly slower as the contraction ebbed away.

Rachel laughed while Eve rolled her eyes.

Checking someone’s dilation was easy, but getting into a position to do so whilst heavily pregnant was going to be hard. Rachel lifted her wife’s dress so it rested on Emily’s flat back, and then slowly she lowered herself into a squat. A move she very quickly regretted.

The baby in her womb suddenly sank even further towards its exit, the head pressing forcefully and painfully on her rapidly dilating cervix.

“Ooooff- oh god!” Rachel couldn’t stop her reaction to the sudden shift.

“Are you okay?” Steph asked worriedly.

“Nngh! Yes.. I’m f-fine. Just.. got in an uncomfortable position that’s all.” Rachel moved to her knees, playing off her outburst as just regular pregnancy annoyance. Meanwhile Eve raised a singular eyebrow at her, knowing the true reason for her discomfort.

“Ok, let’s see how you’re doing hun.” Rachel said with expert professionalism, ignoring the increased weight that was now forcing apart her hips. Moving the underwear out the way, Rachel quickly checked her wife’s dilation.

“Jesus Christ Em, you’re about eight centimetres dilated!” Rachel exclaimed, removing her hand and heaving herself back to standing. The midwife’s brain immediately whirled into overdrive about the very limited time they had before the baby’s arrival.

“What!?” Emily panted, straightening up and twisting round to see her wife.

“You’ve been in labour all day haven’t you?”

“I… I can’t have… no. They weren’t real contractions.”

“Oh honey, I think they were. I’m so sorry but this baby is coming, and soon.” Rache emphasised, affectionately rubbing the curve of her wife’s pregnant stomach before turning towards their friends. “Someone needs to call an ambulance. We’re not going to make it anywhere before the baby comes.”

“Oh my god.” “Shit.” “Fuck.” came the responses of their best friends.

“No… Rachel, I can’t… I can’t have my baby here.” Emily muttered with a panicked, shaky breath, her eyes widening and welling with tears. “I had a birth plan, we were supposed to be at home. You and me. Not in the b-back of a bar that smells like tequilaaa - oooohhhhh!”

A contraction stole the rest of Emily’s sentence and she braced herself once more against the table. Rachel moved behind her, pressing her expert thumbs deep into the pressure points of Emily’s lower back to help relieve some of her wife’s pain.

“Try and stay calm, Em. I know this isn’t what we planned, but we’ve got this. Babies are born every day and I’ll be right here w-with you… Just breathe through it. In and- ohhhhh- out.” Rachel found her body syncing with her wife’s, plaguing them both with a contraction at the same time. “Will one of you call a damn ambulance.” She gritted to the others, swallowing down the moan in her throat, trying hard to keep her laboured breathing as quiet as possible.

Emily began to tremble, her knees starting to buckle beneath her, her hips bobbing up and down.

“Why d-don’t we get you off y-your feet hun.” Rachel stuttered, trying not to give away her own contraction that was ripping its way through her body. “If you don’t want to sit… mmnnh.. let’s get you on your knees and you can lean against a ch-chair.”

“Nhhh- okay…” Emily whimpered.

Steph pulled over a chair and helped Emily to kneel down and brace against it. With her forearms resting on the seat cushion and her face buried into the crook of her elbow, Emily rocked her hips back and forth, following her body’s instincts to open up for the approaching delivery.

With Emily occupied, Rachel steadied herself by gripping the table in Emily’s vacated space. This contraction was relentless, squeezing and tightening her bump with a worrying amount of force, the pressure of her baby’s head against her cervix forever mounting. Hiding her pained expression, she turned away from the group pressing her face into her shoulder. She couldn’t stop the grunt in her throat as her body worked with the building pressure, bringing the baby lower and lower.

“How are you holding up?” Eve whispered to her.

“Oooooohhh- I think we’re gonna need that ambulance for more than just Emily…” Rachel admitted to her friend while the others were busy looking after her wife.

“Shit… you’re like properly in labour then?”

“Mmh- my waters broke in the toilets… b-before you came to g-get me…”

“Rachel! Why didn’t you say?” Eve scolded in a sharp whisper.

“It’ll be fine. The ambulance will be here before we know it... w-with paramedics and everything they’d need to d-deliver two b-b-babies.”

“OOOHHHHHH RACHEL!” Emily suddenly cried, bringing Eve and Rachel out of their hushed conversation.

Rachel waddled over, her gait widening every minute, towards her kneeling and groaning wife. “Hey darling, you okay? What are you feeling?” She asked, rubbing her back.

“I- I think- oohhhhh fuck… I think I need to push…” Emily mewled, and Rachel’s heart plummeted to her feet.

“Okay… okay… erm… hooo- just hold on a second. I need to check to see if you’re fully-”

“Mnnnnghhhh-pushingggg!” Emily growled, her spine curved as her body pushed whether she wanted to or not.

“Oh my god, what do we do?” Steph asked, crouching next to Emily.

“We’ll err… need towels, oh and a first aid kit.” Rachel instructed, trying to focus on the immediate task at hand and ignoring the near-constant seizing of her own womb.

“I’m on it.” Adrienne disappeared out the room.

“Listen to me Em,” Rachel said softly but firmly, “if your body’s telling you to push, you can push, but only with the contractions. Okay.”

“Rachel, are you seriously going to-” Eve tried to say before Rachel interrupted.

“The ambulance isn’t going to make it, Eve. She’s pushing already. I’m going to have to deliver the baby after all.”

“But you’re-”

“I’ll be fine. Emily needs me right now.” Rachel said with confidence she didn’t have. Please wait a little bit longer, she pleaded to the child in her womb. I know you want to meet your other mum and sister, but just hold on.

Emily grunted and lowed, bearing down hard. Rachel awkwardly got down on her knees behind her labouring wife. Her own belly hung so low on her hips, her baby’s head so deep in her birth canal, that her thighs were forced apart when she sat back on her heels.

“You’re doing brilliant Em, push with the contractions. Are you happy here or did you want to move?”

“Ooffhhhhhhh-want-to-move-hhhfff! Need-to-sit-mnnnghhh-down!”

“That’s fine, we can move you. When this contraction is over, we’ll get you in a different position. Steph, can y-you help h-h-her?”

Rachel subtly circled her hips that were being stretched further and further apart with every passing second. There was so much pressure she could cry. But she had to focus on Emily right now.

Adrienne came back with towels and a small first aid kit from the bar staff, while Steph helped Emily move to sit up on the chair.

“Ohhhhhh I can’t believe I’m having our baby here! Mnnnhhhh” Emily cried, cradling her bump, legs wide apart over the sides of the seat.

“I know honey. It’s not the best location, no, but it’s okay. The ambulance is on its way, and I can deliver our baby just like we p-planned. We can do this. You can do this.” Rachel gave Emily’s leg a light comforting squeeze of encouragement. Kneeling at her wife’s feet, Rachel unwrapped the towel and first aid kit and prepared herself to deliver their baby.

“Hoooo-hoooo… we can do this, we can do this...” Emily repeated, trying to keep herself calm.

“Okay, now on the next con-contraction… ohhhh… on the next contraction I need you to… to…. mmmnnnghhh” Rachel was cut off by a sudden fierce contraction of her own. It was too much; the baby was too low, the pressure too strong - stealing the words from her mouth and distracting her focus. Forced to brace her knees and lift her hips, Rachel emitted a long and deep groan. Her body was crying out for something… she needed to do - something… she needed to… needed to… push. Rachel panted heavily, fighting the urge. This baby had to wait, it just had to. She needed to help Emily deliver, there was no one else that could.

“Rachel!?” Emily cried, “What’s wrong- are you… oh my god are you in labour!!??”

Eve knelt down next to her friend “Breathe Rachel, just breathe through it. That’s it. Are you still okay to do this?”

Rachel couldn’t respond but nodded her head, letting out a long and shaky exhale.

“You can’t be in labour too - who’s going to deliver my baby?” The white’s around Emily’s eyes gave away her sheer panic as she panted heavily and rocked in the chair.

“I- I will…” Rachel breathed, the peak of the contraction finally releasing its hold and with it the pressure eased just enough for her to get a hold of herself. “It’s fine darling. Yes, I am in labour, but… hooooo- the contractions are far enough apart… I c-can still help deliver your baby…”

“Rach!” Eve cautioned, then lowered her tone so only Rachel could hear “Your contractions are no further apart than hers and you know it.”

“We don’t have much of a choice.” Rachel gritted out quietly. “The ambulance isn’t going to make it in time-”

Their conversation was interrupted again by the animalistic sound of Emily pushing. “MNNGGHHH - baby- coming- outttttt-!”

Instinctively Rachel shuffled closer to her wife, widening Emily’s legs further apart and lifting her dress to see her progress.

“That’s it Emily. That was a really good push. Good girl. And again, push.” Rachel encouraged, seeing the sliver of their baby start to appear.

“Can I keep going?” Emily panted, slouched in the chair and gripping her thighs tight.

“If you’ve still got a contraction - yes. Keep going! Push!”

“Push Emily!” Their friends encouraged. “Push! Push!!”

While her wife brought one of their baby girls closer to the world, another contraction struck Rachel like blaze of lightning. Every muscle in her body was squeezing the baby down down down, its head was right there, her body screaming at her to aid its effort in birthing the baby. Hearing the constant yells to ‘push’ from their friends, the grunting sounds of her wife, the visual in front of her of a baby slowly crowning - it all activated a primal instinct that she just couldn’t control. As hard as she tried, Rachel simply couldn’t stop herself from pushing.

Thankfully no one noticed, all the focus was on Emily. No one noticed Rachel’s thighs widening apart, or the subtle lifting of her hips. Whenever her wife pushed, Rachel did too. The couple were perfectly in sync, together bringing their children into the world. Rachel’s mouth was clamped shut with the strain, muffling any involuntary sounds she might have made. Thankfully the music from the bar and Emily’s screaming was loud enough anyway to hide any audible evidence of her own advancing birth.

Her wife pushed again and even more of the head came forward - it was fast approaching a full crown. Despite her own body contracting and pushing, Rachel reacted quickly cupping a hand over the emerging head between Emily’s legs.

“T-t-take it e-easy now Emily- hoooo- pant if you can… breathe the b-baby d-down-nnghhh!” Rachel strained out instructions to her wife, trying not to push while she spoke.

“Hooohooo-hooohooo” Emily panted, tears running down her cheeks with the pain of her stretching.

“Amazing… hoooo…. Oh darling you’re doing b-brilliantly. Her head’s coming… so close…nearly there… Keep p-panting.” Rachel supported the emerging head as it inched further and further; the eyes, the nose, the ears, all slipping into this world and then with a pop the head was fully born into Rachel’s hand.

Emily released a cry of relief.

Then, with the timing of a soap opera, Rachel was wracked with another angry contraction and this one meant business. There was no fighting it, no holding back - her baby wanted to be born. With her hands still supporting Emily’s babe Rachel took a deep breath, her knees widening and hips sinking, and she pushed. Hard.

“…Rach?” Eve’s voice sounded so far away. Rachel was only aware of the baby in her hands and the baby between her legs. Nothing else registered to her.

She could feel herself being stretched, the head slowly peeking out into her underwear. No! You have to wait, she pleaded with her baby but her body had other ideas. Thankfully the contraction soon peaked, the urgency fading, allowing her to think clearly again. But her baby was close, dangerously so.

“Hoooo-ooooh- okay. Well done Emily. You’ve done the w-worst bit.” Rachel's heavy breaths were undeniable, trying to make it through the pain of her baby trying to crown, but she persevered - she needed to help her wife deliver this baby. “Next- step, oooh that’s it, the baby’s turning. Ok, you’re ready to deliver the shoulders now hun. On the next contraction you need to give me a big push… okay?”

Emily was sweating, her makeup smudged and her cheeks flushed. She nodded, took a deep breath and beared down. “MNNNNGGGHHHH!!!!!!”

“Keep going- keep going!” Rachel encouraged.

Emily released the push with a sob. “I can’t… I can’t do it…”

“Yes, you c-can.” Rachel said, gritting her teeth as she felt another contraction rising.

“I can’t…. It hurts… I don’t want to have my baby h-here… I want to be at h-home…”

Rachel’s own contraction was burning through her very soul. Her body was pushing without her active participation, the baby stretching her more and more every passing second. She tried to hold on, not to push, but her hips were starting to tremble and her underwear beginning to bulge. Her baby wanted out, and it wanted out now.

“You have to p-pushh Emily… hoooohooo I-I-I need- y-you to p-p-push…” Rachel’s teeth were grinding, she could barely get the words out.

“I c-can’t.” She sobbed, trembling.

“Emily… please…” Rachel pleaded with a whimper. “You-have-to…p-p-push!!! MNNNGGGHH!” Rachel cried as her body pushed despite herself, her baby reaching a full crown and beyond into her clothing.

Emily watched Rachel grunt and strain on the floor in front of her; she was pushing! And all the while her incredible wife was still carefully holding the head of Emily’s half-born baby in between her thighs. Filled with determination, Emily took a deep breath and pushed with everything that she had.

One shoulder, then then next, and a second later Rachel and Emily’s first born daughter entered the world. Rachel lifted the squalling infant and hastily placed her into Emily’s chest. The next one was coming, and it was coming now!

Rachel got up on her knees and frantically scrambled to pull down her trousers. Their friends looked on, confused and panicked. When her hips were free from the confines of her clothing, Rachel put a trembling hand between her legs and felt the significant dome of her baby’s fully crowned head.

“Oh my god Rachel!” Emily gasped.

The midwife was not capable of speech, instead letting out an urgent primal sound as she immediately birthed the head directly into her hand. With the head delivered, Rachel could breathe again, could think again.

“Hooo-hooo… so…Emily… are you ready to m-meet your other d-daughter?” Rachel breathed, smiling at her wife and newborn daughter, cupping the head of its sibling.

“You are… beyond incredible.” Emily smiled in awe of her beautiful wife. “Yes, let’s complete our family.”

And with that Rachel pushed on the next contraction, catching in her hands their second baby girl. Born 3 minutes after her sister.

[gravid-transluna]

A little prompt for you, if it tickles your fancy…

A mother-to-be is chilling at home on maternity leave. She’s been having contractions all morning and they’re gradually getting more intense and closer together. Not wanting to bother her partner at work at the first twinge of labour, she spends the day riding out the contractions until they’re close enough together to warrant the phone call.

Eventually they’re strong enough to steal her breath away, coming every five minutes for a solid hour, and she’s pretty sure her waters are breaking. Before making the call to her partner she pops in the bathroom to clean up and change, only when she goes to leave she finds the door is jammed. Well and truly completely stuck. With no phone and only a small latch window, our mother-to-be is stuck in the bathroom and dangerously close to pushing…

~ @shhhsecretsideblog 💜

words: 1177

content: inconvenient birth, fpreg

Absolutely delightful prompt, but then, I expect nothing less from such an incredible writer!

Working from Home

Cleo had been having a productive morning; despite starting her maternity leave a week ago, she had become attuned to remote work, her laptop balanced on her overdue belly, a ready supply of pillows to support her aching back and hips and feet. Even as her belly began to seize periodically, ramping up in both intensity and pace, she’d kept her focus on her work, not wanting to bother her girlfriend at work.

“Shhh,” she’d murmured to her restless womb, rippling with contractions severe enough at this point to make her gasp. “Let momma finish this email, maybe grab lunch.”

The next one had her doubled over her belly, clutching the armrest as she rode out the pain. She was having a difficult time sitting at this point. The pains had introduced a new sensation, intense in its own right: a deep pressure between her hips, weighing down on her cervix. She shifted, lifting her hips from the sofa with a low moan.

“Okay,” she panted at the end of the contraction, shakily removing her glasses to wipe the lenses on the edges of her sweater. “Okay, it might be time to make the call.”

As she stood, she realized that her yoga pants had trails of liquid running down them, and at her crotch a dripping spot had formed.

‘Shit,’ she thought. ‘That’s my waters.’

She knew her girlfriend would usher her to the hospital without letting Cleo get a word in otherwise. Messy tangled bun; sweat stains; belly hanging low from the hem of her once-oversized sweatshirt…. Cleo thought she could afford to freshen up before she went.

She waddled to the bathroom, with an awkward wide-legged gait. The pressure was getting nearly unbearable.

After rinsing her face she tugged down her sodden pants and as they dropped to the floor she suffered another hard contraction.

Braced over the counter, Cleo instinctively bent her knees and swayed her hips in slow circles. Her breathless grunt was punctuated by a sharp release of breath near the end.

The pressure was incessant, demanding. She was aware of a large mass, burrowed deep into the cervix, something she could only presume to be the head. It was getting to be so bad that she almost felt like—

Cleo shook her head. She reached for her phone, only to realize she’d left it on the couch by her laptop. She huffed. With the baby so close, even walking was an ordeal. Trying the knob, she found it didn’t turn. The door wouldn’t budge either. Tugging on it, throwing her weight back with an increasing sense of dread, Cleo realized that the door must be jammed. ‘Not now,’ she thought. ‘Please, not now.’ Despite her best efforts, the door remained shut. Turning, she scrutinized the window now. Maybe-? No. Without her massive belly, the squeeze might have been possible. Not now, though.

Cleo tried to remain collected. “Is it one? One-thirty, it must be. So if she gets off at three, then….” Two hours. She looked down at her protruding swell, swollen and almost misshapen with the size of her baby. Could she hold it in that long? She had to, if she didn’t want to give birth by herself in the bathroom.

The next contraction came with an enormous amount of pressure, nearly buckling her knees. She couldn’t help the groan that rumbled from her throat. It barely sounded like her own voice, deep and animalistic. Palming her clenched belly with both hands, she quickly waddled to the toilet, trailing fluids, and dropped heavily to the seat. Naively, she was hoping that the pressure and its accompanying urge was nothing more than a bathroom feeling. However, as the contraction reached its peak, the urge became undeniable.

She had to push.

She had to bear down, NOW.

Without thinking, Cleo was arching her back and thrusting her belly out and pushing hard on the toilet. She bellowed, red-faced with exertion, as the large round mass began to press downward, with slow force. Her knees sprang apart, struggling to accommodate the seemingly impossible width of the baby moving through her. As the contraction began to fade she was able to pull herself from her involuntary pushing efforts, and regain a semblance of control over her body.

She panted vigorously. Strands of dark blond hair clung to her damp forehead. Her glasses fogged with heavy breaths. Cleo knew she had little time before the next contraction, and spent it lifting her encumbered laboring body from the toilet seat to shamble to the window. Her fingers fumbled with the latch. Her belly felt so low and heavy, dense with pregnancy, almost ready to drop right off her frame. She managed to open the window, grunting as she was forced to strain on her tiptoes. Drawing in a breath, she began to shout.

"Help! Please! Someone, mmh, I'm trapped here and I'm in, ohhhh, I'm in labor---!"

Pressure was building again, splitting through her hips, her belly constricting into a tight ball of muscle. Her voice strained tightly as she shouted.

"Oh GOD, someone! P-please, I'm giving birth! I-I'm--- OH! I'm PUSHING!! It's coming, my baby's coming!"

Teeth gritted, palms to the wall, Cleo bore down silently again. Knees bending, dropped into a slight squat. She could feel it, moving down at an alarming speed. The stretch was immense. The weight was close to her opening, and by the time the contraction ended, she could feel herself beginning to bulge, the huge head lodged just before her lips. Trembling, cold with sweat, Cleo removed her sweater and threw it behind her before her knees gave out and she collapsed into all fours, instinctively needed to be lower to the floor, needed to be grounded as she focused on nothing but getting her baby out. She let her forehead rest against the cool porcelain tile. Her glasses clattered to the floor. One hand felt shakily behind her. Between her thighs her lips were bulging with the head, hot to the touch. She withdrew her probing fingers. They only confirmed what she could already feel, what she already knew, deep inside her, with the intuition of a birthing mother: the baby was coming.

All she could do was help it come. She raised her backside, lowered her shoulders. Readied herself on all fours for her first fully-involved push. When the contraction came she let loose a savage growl, pushing furiously, and felt herself beginning to open around the crowning skull. It was huge, fiery, overwhelming. Birth was all-consuming. She howled, with nothing else on her mind except expelling the baby from her body.

A light rapping at the window. Startled, nearing the end, Cleo glanced up. Her eyes with hazy with pain and primal urges.

A pair of startled eyes stared from the window. Her next-door neighbor.

"Miss Cleo---?!"

"Ah, ah.... hello. I need, urgh. Need to borrow your phone."

"For an ambulance?"

"No," Cleo shook her head, readying herself for the next contraction and another hard, groaning push. "My girlfriend. Gotta tell her, baby's almost here."

[jokeringcutio]

Menstruation Kink – Grabber x Captured!Reader (Explicit SMUT, Read ALL WARNINGS)

@susiesterling-17 I wasn't sure if you wanted a sweet fic with Grabber taking good care of Reader, or if you wanted perverted smut. I wrote the latter. But if you meant the first, let me know and I'll write you a more innocent and sweet comfort fic as well ;)

Menstruation Kink – Grabber x Captured!Reader

You awoke with a start, the cold air in the basement chilling your bones as you shivered uncontrollably. A sharp pain tore through your lower abdomen, making you wince. Confusion clouded your thoughts as you tried to make sense of the situation. But then, realization dawned on you as you felt the wetness cold and sticky between your legs.

You had gotten your period while being held captive by the Grabber.

"Oh no," you muttered under your breath, fear creeping up your spine. Blood stained the dirty mattress beneath you, creating an unsettling sight. You’d completely missed the start of it, had awoken only when it was already too late.

Panic set in as you attempted to clean up the mess with what little resources you had at your disposal. You scooped with your hands, then tried to flip the dingy old mattress over, but your cramps prevented you from doing that.

"Please, not now," you whispered, desperation tinging your voice.

Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the dirt and grime that clung to your skin. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly powerless in this dank prison. The heavy flow showed no signs of stopping, and you could feel the blood soaking through your clothes.

"Fuck... what do I do?" you muttered, your mind racing with possibilities and outcomes.

Your breathing quickened, each inhale and exhale echoing through the cold, dark space. Time seemed to slow down as you fought to maintain some semblance of control over your body and the situation. But deep down, you knew that it was a losing battle.

"God, please help me," you prayed, your voice barely audible.

You couldn't escape the feeling of dread that gripped your heart, squeezing it tighter and tighter until you felt like you couldn't breathe. The blood-stained mattress was a grim reminder of your captivity, and your thoughts wandered to the mysterious man who kept you here - the Grabber. He wouldn’t be happy, you thought, having seen how easily he was angered.

The basement seemed to close in on you, the darkness pressing against your skin like a suffocating blanket. You shuddered, the air in the basement cold and damp. The pain in your lower abdomen grew more insistent, a cruel reminder of your body's betrayal. You had to do something to clean up this mess.

Dragging yourself from the bloodied mattress, you made your way toward the corner of the room and looked behind it, where you spotted the toilet paper next to the grimy old toilet. It was a small mercy, but one you'd cling to.

"It’s not enough," you whispered, as your fingers trembled while unraveling a length of toilet paper.

Taking deep breaths, you began wiping away the blood, trying not to gag at the scent of copper and mildew that filled the air. Your eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for anything you could use to help your predicament. That's when they landed on the old rugs, dirty and frayed.

"Better than nothing," you muttered, as you grabbed a rug and instantly flinched and doubled over. The pain in your stomach was too bad, and for a moment you feared you’d start to vomit too. But luckily, you managed to keep the bile down that rose within your throat, and you took a few deep breaths before you decided you were in no condition to move the heavy rug right now.

“Damn it all,” you muttered, limping your way back to the mattress to lie down for a moment. Standing there, bleeding all over the floor, would not help your cause. And as you lay upon the bed you moved your hands to press against your abdomen, wishing the pain away.

With tears in your eyes, you grunted. “Please, please, please,” you silently begged. You longed for escape, for freedom, but deep down, you knew that it was all in vain. You gave in, if only for a moment, and closed your eyes.

You would try and flip the mattress as soon as the pain became less. It would have to do.

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs echoed through the basement, making your heart pound with terror. You knew it was him. The Grabber. The man who had taken away your freedom and tormented you for his pleasure. Albert had cleverly kept his name hidden from you, so you knew this man by no other name than the one the media had given him.

"Please... don't let him come down here now," you begged, knowing that there was no one to hear your pleas. The door opened to reveal your captor. His mask covered his face, showing only his chilling blue eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

"Fuck," he growled, eyes widening at the sight of the bloody room. He looked around, confusion and anger fighting for dominance in his gaze. "What the hell happened here?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

He must think you’d been trying to murder yourself, you realized with a start,

"Please," your voice cracked, "it's not what it looks like." You could feel your legs trembling beneath you, fear making your words shaky and weak. You bravely tried to sit up, but the cramps made it ten times harder.

His eyes narrowed, searching for any hint of deception. Then, realization dawned on him, and the fury in his gaze softened, if only slightly. "You're on your period, aren't you?" he asked, his tone holding a mix of disgust and pity.

"Y-yes," you stammered, tears threatening to spill over as you lowered your gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

Fear clawed at your insides as you watched Albert's reaction shift, his eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and sadistic pleasure, and you knew that something much worse than his anger was brewing.

"Please," you whispered, your voice shaking with terror, "please, don't..."

"Quiet," he commanded, stalking towards you like a predator closing in on its prey. The way his gaze roved over the gruesome scene with that twisted arousal only heightened your fear, lending an edge of desperation to your words.

"Please, I...I'll do anything," you stammered, tears streaming down your face as he loomed over you, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers grazed your trembling arm, sending sparks of panic racing through you.

"Anything?" he murmured, his voice dangerously low and laced with menace. "You'll do anything to make up for this filthy mess, won't you? Because you know the consequences if you don't."

"Y-yes," you choked out, barely able to breathe under the weight of his oppressive presence. "Please, just...just tell me what to do."

Albert leaned in close, the lips of the mask brushing against your ear as he whispered his demands. Your heart hammered in your chest, each word sinking into you like a knife, shredding any hope that you might have clung to.

"Good girl," he breathed, stepping back and eyeing you with that chilling mix of lust and cruelty. "Now, let's see just how far you're willing to go to earn my mercy."

"Strip," Albert commanded, the single word slicing through the air like a blade. Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears as you hesitated, frozen by the cruel order.

"Please... don't make me..." you whispered, pleading once more for mercy that you knew wouldn't come. In response, he merely chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with a sadistic desire that left you trembling.

"All right then," he murmured, stepping closer until his body towered over yours, casting a menacing shadow. You shuddered under his gaze, feeling both terrified and strangely captivated by the dominant figure before you. His rough hands gripped your clothes, ripping them away with swift, forceful movements, leaving your vulnerable form exposed to his hungry eyes.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice a guttural purr that sent chills down your spine. "So fucking pathetic, so desperate for my approval. It's almost endearing." As he spoke, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of arousal stirring within you, mingling with a fear that threatened to consume you whole.

You wanted to scream, to cry out for someone to save you from this nightmare, but you knew it was pointless. There was no one to hear you, no one to rescue you from the monster who held your very life in his hands. And as much as you hated to admit it, there was a part of you that didn't want to be saved, that craved the twisted dance of pain and pleasure that Albert inflicted upon you.

"Please," you whimpered, unable to look away from those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight into your soul. The conflicting emotions swirled within you, a hurricane of fear and desire that left you breathless and aching for the touch you dreaded.

"Quiet," he snapped, his fingers digging into your flesh as he forced your body to bend to his will. "You'll take what I give you, and you'll be grateful for it." The harshness of his words only served to heighten the storm raging inside you, a perverse mix of dread and longing that threatened to tear you apart.

"Please," you repeated, your voice barely audible as tears streamed down your cheeks. You knew that there would be no mercy, no reprieve from the torment he inflicted, but still, you couldn't help but beg for some semblance of compassion in his brutal touch.

"Pathetic," he sneered, his grip tightening as he continued to strip away the last remnants of your clothes. And as you stood there, naked and trembling beneath his cruel gaze, you couldn't help but wonder how you had come to this point, how you had become so entwined with the very man who should have been your worst nightmare.

The moment you were exposed to his gaze, your heart raced with a mixture of fear and strange excitement. Albert's fingers trailed down your body, a shiver following each touch, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The sheer intensity of his stare weighed on you, yet something within you longed for his touch.

"Get on the bed," he commanded, and you obeyed without hesitation, lying back on the blood-stained mattress. The cold, damp fabric pressed against your bare skin, heightening your vulnerability. Your eyes darted around the dimly lit basement, seeking an escape that didn't exist.

"Spread your legs," he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent a tremor through your core. You hesitated, but ultimately complied, feeling the fear mingling with a shameful arousal as you bared yourself to him.

"Good girl," he praised, and those words made your stomach twist with both repulsion and an odd sense of gratification. He approached the edge of the mattress, unzipping his pants and releasing his throbbing erection. His eyes darkened, locked onto yours with a predatory hunger.

He positioned himself between your quivering thighs, gripping your hips with bruising force. "Ready or not," he warned, a sinister smirk playing on his lips behind the mask. He didn’t need to remove it for you to know it was there. The glint in his eyes betrayed it all. And then, without further ado, he thrust into you, a guttural groan escaping his throat as he filled you completely.

Your walls stretched with a quelch. Blood coated his cock as he slowly pulled out again, glancing down to admire the mess you had made of him. “Hmm, looks good,” you heard him say, a low but pleased grunt. And then he was inside of you again, stretching you without mercy.

"Ah, please!" you cried out, the initial pain quickly giving way to a searing pleasure that threatened to consume you as he shallowly thrust inside of you. Then deeper and harder, slowly picking up a pace. You tried to claw at him, tried to breathe, as his thrusts became more forceful. Each powerful stroke sent shivers down your spine and left you gasping for breath, your entire being focused on the sensation of Albert inside you.

"Look at me," he demanded, his grip tightening on your hips as he continued to pound into you with relentless ferocity. You met his gaze, your eyes brimming with tears, but unable to look away from the man who held your life in his hands.

"Such a good, obedient girl," he whispered, his voice laced with dark satisfaction. Your heart clenched at the praise, even as your mind screamed at you to resist, to fight back against the twisted pleasure that coursed through your veins.

"Please... I can't..." you whimpered, your body trembling from the overwhelming sensations, both physical and emotional. But Albert merely chuckled.

"Too bad," he murmured behind the mask. Without a warning, he pulled back. You gasped, stared up at him, and waited for what was to come next. And as you expected, he thrust inside of you hard, hitting you deep, bruising the entrance to your womb with his hard cock. The force of the impact sent stars dancing across your vision, and you couldn't help but moan, your body surrendering to the brutal rhythm he set.

"Take it all," he growled, and something within you snapped, leaving you utterly at his mercy, embracing the pain and pleasure that threatened to engulf you whole.

Your body ached. Albert's thrusts slowed and his grip on you tightened possessively. He was going to come, you realized with a shock. And so were you.

Warmth flooded your insides as Albert came with a groan. Your walls pulsed around him as you cried out. The moment seemed to last forever, with him resting his head against you, his hips still against your own, his cock pulsing and your pussy milking. Once he was done he slipped out, cock leaving a trace of mixed juices down your thigh. You didn’t care about it much. You knew there’d be blood, and the mattress was already stained beyond repair.

"Grabber..." you whispered, though you couldn't be sure why. Were you pleading for mercy? Begging for understanding? Or was it simply an acknowledgment of the twisted bond that had formed between you and this man who held you captive?

"Shh," he murmured, nuzzling against your neck as if to soothe your frayed nerves. But his touch only served to heighten your inner turmoil, your heart clenching with a mixture of fear, desire, and shame.

"Please... let me go," you managed to say, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You knew they were futile, nothing more but a desperate plea for a freedom that seemed further out of reach with each passing moment.

"Never," Albert growled, the possessiveness in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. "You're mine now, my sweet little captive."

The thought sent a sickening jolt of arousal through you, even as your mind screamed in denial. How could you crave such darkness? How could you find comfort in the very thing that brought you so much pain?

"Please... I don't want this," you whimpered, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. But Albert only chuckled, his mask cold against your ear.

"Your body says otherwise," he taunted, fingers tracing a path up your trembling thigh, eliciting a gasp from your lips. "Such a good girl, always so responsive to my touch."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you completely broken, even as your body betrayed you time and time again.

"Please," you whispered, desperation lacing your voice. "Have mercy."

"Mercy?" Albert mused, his grip on you not relenting as he considered the word. "You don't understand, do you? I'm showing you mercy right now. I could have ended your life so many times, but I chose to keep you here instead. To possess you in every way possible."

His words sent a fresh wave of terror through you, even as some dark part of your soul clung desperately to the fragile connection that existed between you. You wanted to hate him, to loathe every fiber of his being. And yet, there was an undeniable allure to the power he wielded over you.

"Please..." you breathed, your vision blurring as tears threatened to spill over. He paused for a moment, his eyes studying your face with unnerving intensity.

"Rest," he said finally, his tone softening ever so slightly. "We'll talk more later."

And so, with no other choice, you lay spent and exhausted in Albert's arms. As your eyelids grew heavy and sleep began to claim you, your mind swirled with a mix of pleasure, shame, and a growing sense of entrapment. Were you ever going to get out of here? ~ Fin ~

[hanasnx]

Hello! May I please request a smutty Han Solo x fem!Reader with prompt #11 and/or prompt #42 (I loooove daddy dom Han)?

prompt: #11 + #42

MINORS DNI 18+

prompt list | rules WC: 0.9k | CHARACTERS: han solo x f!reader WARNINGS: sexual content | implied smut | dom!han | kinks: size, daddy | arguing

"Are you serious?" the incredulous tone of HAN SOLO follows you as you march away from him. "Where do you think that little ass is goin'? We aren't done talkin', sweetheart." his condescension is unnecessary, but it conveys his exasperation. The thunder of his boots catch up to you, and a large hand reaches out, latching onto the back of your belt at your tailbone. Effortlessly, he arrests you, directing your body to a sunken doorway in this hall. The attendants of this base pass you by to perform their duties, and he points a finger in your face. "What's the attitude for, huh?" His finger turns on him, gesturing to his chest with a raise of his brows, "Did I do somethin'?"

"Typical!" you huff, throwing your arms into the air in an annoyed and defeated motion. You're tired of this, you don't want to explain things to him, you just want him to figure it out. He's supposed to be smart, isn't he? When you go to retreat, he palms your upper arm, drawing you right back where he wants you.

You regain your footing after your stumble, and he straightens, crossing his arms. "I ain't gonna chase you anymore, sister. Get it out now while you've got my ears."

When you reluctantly concede, and check each ways of the passage, you conclude you can't talk here. The door next to you gives you an idea, and with all your suspicious looking around Han gives you a questioning expression, pivoting his head to eye you from the side with a brow furrow and parted lips. You slam your hand against the door controls, sliding it open, and dragging him inside by his wrist. Once you're sealed in the safety of this small storage room, you round on him.

"You've ignored me every since we got to this stupid base, and as soon as you realize I'm mad at you— suddenly—" You gesture wildly. "you're interested! Then—"

"There's more?"

You scoff indignantly. "Yes, Han! There's more!"

He nods, cutting you off. "Oh, I get it. Okay—" It earns him a deep frown from you.

"—What? What do you get—?" you taunt, and he persists.

A shrug, a stupid pinch of his shoulder to his neck as he raises his voice to match yours, "I've been 'neglecting' you, right? That's what this is about? You're acting out like you need a good fuck!"

"Han!" you scold.

"Well, that's what you're tellin' me!" When he drops his arms and advances on you in a leisure lumber, you back up out of instinct.

"Don't you dare think you can touch me right now." you warn, but as usual Han sees right through an empty threat, your back against the shelving.

“C'mon. Be a good girl for daddy.” he condescends, "I'm giving you what you want. You'll feel better after, right? After daddy does his thing? Give it here." The annoyance is apparent in his responses. Once you're trapped against the shelving, he stoops. He towers over you, and in order to reach the space between your legs, he tips his body to the side. Defiantly, you twist your hips, jerking away from his hand. You don't like his attitude, or that he thinks he can just do whatever he wants, or how he makes fun of you, using your kink against you. "You gonna fight me for it? Sweets, we both know you can't hold out long. So jus' lemme get you off and we can put this whole thing behind us."

Something about an argument puts you over the edge with him. You've never conversed with anyone so frustrating, someone that brought this side out in you. You hate the way he solves problems, and you hate how sometimes when he solves these types of problems by getting you off that it's successful. Embarrassingly so. There's a part of you that wants to put him to work, but that won't fix everything. He has a shitty way of apologizing.

"Like I'd let you walk all over me and then act like it's all good after! Again!" you seethe through gritted teeth. You meet his gaze at eye-level with you, jutting your chin when you press your lips into a line.

"Why?" he plays dumb, but there's a knowing hint of a smile on his crooked mouth. "You're good at it."

Clearly, he'll need a different approach. With a cautious glance behind his shoulder at the door, he confirms it's not locked, which adds to his thrill. He sighs, adjusting his pants to accommodate his knees when he gets on them.

"At least let me check somethin'."

A sick sense of pride blooms in your chest at the sight of Han kneeling in front of you. He doesn't do it often, but you know where this is going. So you begrudgingly offer your hips to him.

"There, see?" he praises, thick fingers hooking in your bottoms to undo and tug them down. "Was that so hard? Let me do this right." Like a man would, he sucks on the tips of two of his fingers, cleaning them off before he wedges them between your thighs, swiping at your folds. You're slick. "That's what daddy thought. He's always right."

You shift forward, warning him wordlessly about his poor choice of words. The side of his nose scrunches charmingly in his amusement, his crooked grin spreading onto his handsome features. You denied yourself the possibility of smacking it right off. Still tentative, you won't widen your stance, and so he peels your pants further down to give you room to.

“Spread your legs for daddy, I want to see you.”

[mydearestknight]

If you're still taking prompts, then a stressed out king getting fucked by his advisor, who knows everything about him, and knows exactly how to take him apart and make him relax.

King's head is full. Full with his duties, his people's expectations and his own worries. He loves his people, he is charitable and caring, and the people love him for that. But even king needs breaks every now and then, forgets to take them, however.

"A King as young as yourself shouldn't overwork himself so early into his career," his advisor mutters close to his ear, standing right behind him, and makes king jump a little. "See? You didn't even hear me coming," he adds and lets his hands wander over king's arms.

A sigh escapes king's lips, his tired eyes flutter closed as he relaxes against the touch. "It's been some time, since you came undone under my hands. How about you take a break?" The words are sweet and luring, but king shakes his head.

"I need to finish this first," king breathes as his advisor's hands travel from his arms over his chest and down to his trousers. King feels the grin against his neck, lips kissing his sensitive skin as one hand already makes its way inside his undergarments.

"Hm? Your body tells a completely different story, Your Royal Highness." Advisor's chuckle tickles against his skin, a moan escapes king's lips, as the other's fingers circle over his clit and wet hole. The hand travels further, a finger enters.

"If you don't want to leave your desk, I have to take you here." Words-promising and sweet as honey. Fingers- teasing and addicting. But advisor removes his fingers and pulls back the chair king is sitting on, grabbing him by his chin, a thumb entering between his lips.

"That's it. That is the look I want to see in your eyes. Don't stress yourself out even more. Let me take care of your thoughts for a while." King finds himself on the table, lying on his back, while advisor eats him out, holding his shaky thighs in place.

A finger enters, fucks him slowly and makes his head spin. His duties are forgotten right now and king grabs advisors collar to pull him up, his mouth wet and glistening. No words are needed, his eyes already beg to be fucked.

Because advisor knows exactly what he has to do. Knows every button to push, every word to say to make king melt in his hands. As he enters king's hole, both shudder and gasp in anticipation. Advisor stays still for a moment and looks at king, who feels himself relax.

"Just like that, my king." He rolls his hips for the first time and king's head falls back. "Let me empty your head," advisor moans close to his ear and starts moving, slow strokes at first that make king impatient, just like everytime they do this.

Advisor starts fucking him faster, hands steadying him on the table as king's head goes empty from his duties, his people and his responsibilities, fills itself with pleasure and lust instead. All he can feel is advisor, all he can hear is their moans and the sounds of their love-making.

[onboardsorasora]

7. Made out while in costume at a Halloween Party (I feel like you’d have fun with this one 😈)

Hi Isabeellllll! You're right, I did have fun playing around with this. I have no clue if it is any good or makes sense though 🤣🤞🤞

cw: smut

Max glared across the room at Charles who was giggling merrily and hanging off of Carlos' arms. Lando was there too, very unhappily if his skull painted pout was anything to go by. 

He was supposed to be a skeleton he had said, he and Carlos were supposed to match. But when Carlos had walked in as the perfect Wario to Charles' Daisy– well let's say the pout was a step up from the murderous look from before.

It didn't matter because Max was still annoyed at Charles. They were having a joint birthday party this year in Texas and it was Charles' idea that they have a Halloween themed costume party. 

That wasn't the problem. The problem was that Charles wanted to be in charge of the costumes— and Max, like an idiot, let him. He truly only had himself to blame. Really he did. But he would still blame Charles. Because it made him feel better.

He flounced to the bar, ignoring the flutter of his skirts as he did so. His crown kept shifting atop his head but so far it hasn't fallen all the way off. He wished it were on a hat or something so he could keep track of it. You can't be Princess Peach without a crown, or so Charles had said when Max threatened to chuck it.

The bartender handed him his gin and tonic and Max took a grateful sip.

"Oh Maxy, Maxy, Maxy." The sultry growl made goosebumps rise on Max's glove covered arms. 

Max glanced behind him to see Daniel in his usual skinny jeans, band tee and flannel. He also had wolf claws and ears and fur sticking out in random places. But it was the look in his eyes that truly had Max shivering. It was… predatory.

"Hi Daniel. Do you want a drink?" Max asked, proud that his voice didn't shake or crack.

Daniel stepped forward and crowded into his space. He ran his nose along the slope of Max's neck behind his ear. Max felt some of the fake fur tickle his skin. 

"Daniel?" Max breathed out. He could hear the chatter of the party around them, as drivers got drunker and rowdier. They were at the bar at the back of the room, tucked out of the way, which is probably why Daniel felt brazen enough to do this.

"I'll have a beer, and a shot of tequila Maxy." He spoke lowly into Max's ear. Max nodded stiffly and called over the bartender who was making himself as invisible as possible. The drinks came quickly and Max handed the shot glass to Daniel who—

Daniel bent and grasped the shot glass with his lips, brushing teasingly along Max's fingers as he went. He broke eye contact only when he tipped his head backwards to swallow the liquor. Max numbly accepted the empty glass again and handed over the full bottle of beer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and licked his lips. 

Max wondered what Daniel was up to, they were– they hadn't– in a while. Not since before Zandvoort when Daniel got injured. But he'd been back on the grid since Qatar but they hadn't— Daniel was busier now than he was before the summer break. That's what Max told himself, why they hadn't met up. Why Daniel hadn't invited him over.

"What are you supposed to be?" Max found himself asking. He sipped some of his forgotten drink, his throat was parched.

Daniel smiled wolfishly, it was the only way to explain it. "Me, Pierre and Hulk are a big bad wolf pack."

Max looked around the hairy man to glimpse other equally hairy men in the room. "Clever."

"You look good enough to eat." Daniel's voice dipped again and Max felt a blush bloom as he watched Daniel look him up and down pointedly. Max felt his spine stiffen a little, as ridiculous as the outfit was, he still thought he looked good when he put it on. The pink suited him and the cut of the top showed off his shoulders and chest. Clearly Daniel liked it as well, an added bonus.

Daniel grabbed Max's hand and pulled him out of the room.  They found an empty office and Daniel wasted no time in pressing Max up against the wall and pressed their lips together in a filthy kiss. Daniel pressed his palm into Max's chest, cupping a tit under the sweetheart neckline.

"But Daniel…what big teeth you have." Max's breath hitched as Daniel mouthed at his exposed neck. He moaned and tilted his head backwards ignoring the ting of his crown hitting the floor.

"All the better to crawl under that dress and eat you whole… my dear." Daniel braced his knee between Max's thighs and swallowed his whimper. He licked into Max's mouth and groaned.

"Daniel— please."

Daniel slid to his knees and draped the fabric over his head to envelope himself in Max's scent. Daniel grinned, running his hands up naked legs, and squeezing his thick thigh. He saw Max's knees buckle and pressed his nose against his brief covered erection to help steady him.

Max whined above him and Daniel mouthed at his cock and balls. He only teased for a little longer before dragging Max's briefs down and enveloped his cock with his hot mouth. Pressing his nose into Max's pubes and inhaling deeply then exhaling in a drawn out hum. 

Max made a strangled moan above him and Daniel got to work, sucking greedily at Max's weeping dick groaning at the taste of his pre come on his tongue. it truly didn't take long, not with how worked up Max had been, and soon he was coming down Daniel's throat, cupping the crown of his head through the skirts.

Daniel cleaned Max up and stood, pulling the voluminous fabric from around him. Max watched him, dazed and smiling.

"Let me–"

"No Maxy" Daniel kissed him soundly, licking the freckle on his lip for good measure. "I'm going to come all over you after I rip this dress off of you. Yeah?" Daniel watched as the words registered with another wolfish grin.

[fanaticsnail]

oh man. oh man, oh man, oh man. it's remisloves again. i know you have a long list of wips… b u t. your praise platonic kid fic did a thing to me in my brain alsdkjlkgfdj if you've got time. and the inspiration. could i request a gn!reader x kid fic where he discovers, by accident, that actually he really likes being praised by reader. like, Really Likes. and starts doing shit just to get praise. or bratting out when he *doesn't* get anticipated praise. knowingly or unknowingly. and doesn't realise it's the start of a massive crush the drowns him. while his crew is just watching the whole thing devolve from the sidelines. I… do have a song that's springing to mind for this, though I don't know how helpful it'll be since it's not in English. Love Trap Muchuu by MAISONdes. or possibly I Love You by Mahiru from Milgram? Trigger warning on that one though, and it's lessss on point but still. anyway, i'm rambling! sorry! again, you don't have to, since you technically already did write something like this but. my god. I had to ask asdlkjglkfdjgk. either way- thank you for all the amazing writing you've done so far!! i look forward to seeing everything you put out next!

Okay, though, @remisloves. My WIP list is incredibly long, but I love this though.

That little brain worm had been eating at me for a while: Beckman's partner doting on the poor baby (absolutely not a baby, but adores being doted on and treated as such) 💀. Beckman x spouse!reader video here:

(video link, courtesy of @carrotsunshine)

I never thought how much fun it would be to praise a big, hulking, violent, intimidating character until I started writing it for him. Eustass Kid is literally so fun to write for, and I have kept your other request in my ask-box so it reminds me to get it done.

Rest assured, I would absolutely love to have you praise him again - and he will absolutely be begging and bratting to get more of it from you.

He's a good boy. He can keep being a good boy, especially if you tell him as such 😏

[luna-baby01]

Do you ever fantasize about your hugely fattened, massively swollen body getting stuck and needing help to get free? Your fat birthing hips wedged tight in the armrests of chairs, or your enormous decaplet bump lodging itself in a tight doorway...

Y-Yes……Good god that sounds so fucking hot…😳

Stuck in bed with my colossal decaplets belly towering over me, spending most of my time eating & sleepinh. Only occasionally getting out of bed to go to the toilet or answer the phone/door. The floorboards creaking under my swollen little feet. Wearing massive nightgowns or XXXXL pajamas cuz those are the only things that fit around my gargantuan, fat pregnant body. Struggling to even stand, lumbering around with the help of the walls or two-three people. Only getting up for short periods of time for my own safety, before I’m hauled back into my bed by several people, with a thunderous thud that makes the bedframe squeak out loud and the entire bedroom vibrates.

[fem-boy-toy]

How many would you want in your belly for you first round of being pregnant?

Twins? Triplets? Or even more…

I'm a rather small boy so I'm curious what my stomach could handle the first time around. Triplets sounds perfect for the first time🥰

But...I wouldn't mind if it was more~ as many as my stomach could hold~😏

And then just more and more each pregnancy~😍

[potionwine]

Oooh, you’ve also seen Nirvana in Fire?!? That was SO good. And as inspiration for PF?? That, explains some things, dang! It works

My friend. My dear. My lovely Cimi—

WHAT in the world—

Have I seen the drama that bloody changed my life; my favourite comfort c-drama; the series that I rewatch yearly the way I rewatch lotr every Christmastime; that exquisite story with the most incredible breadth and variety of characters with impeccable character work and amazing themes and an ending that respects its viewers which however tragic is thoroughly earned and identity porn and politics and pride and grief, god, so much grief—and an Emperor who is shakespearean in his tragedy and—

Okay. Okay, no, you could not have known, tis a failure of my part if I have not spoken enough about it—I probably mostly reply to other people's posts as they liveblog their watching but. BUT. God when I saw your ask it felt like you came up to me to remark "hey wow so you also ship PF?" that's how gobsmacked I was lol!!!

I have dragged everyone in my life into watching this show! I have mutuals on here who can testify to my introducing them to it omg. I just checked and the earliest NIF post I reblogged was in 2016 so I have been watching it every year since 2016 hahaha!!! Although it's pretty complex chinese, and since so much of the show is made up of characters sitting around talking the intricate plot into existence, it's not really a beginner-friendly c-drama either!!!

NOW I DIDN'T KNOW YOU'VE WATCHED IT TOO???!!!

I. have. been. going. UTTERLY MENTAL. at the lack of anyone with whom I could talk about it? OR SO I THOUGHT. So many times I thought of going into our discord to be like "has anyone ever heard of NIF because hhhhhhh the phoenixflare resonance" or like "so is anyone into TGCF perhaps perchance mayhap???"—��because heh. hehehehe. heheheh??? My fic is practically a NIF/TGCF mashup, it's a Lin Shu+Xie Lian!Joshua Rosfield & Jingyan+Hua Cheng!Dion Lesage——and I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW MANY TIMES I wanted to ask god please does anyone else see my vision please god does anyone?? but no one would even understand the references, and I couldn't even ask in areas (asian fandom) where there would be a higher chance of people knowing what crack I'm on because asian fandom is all about that...you know...that I loathe—and I have been in pain and I thought right well fine I'm writing the fic anyway it's fine if I have no one to scream about it with because I'm writing it and then I'll find fellow competence porn+politics enjoyers if they find my fic and—and.

God. What an earth-shattering message to receive in my askbox! You are some sort of miracle <3

Do you see it??? Do you see it? A boy who burned to death in an inferno as an innocent betrayed youth in a catastrophic event caused by his own family, his father slain, his entire clan (and all the troops under his banner) wiped out or scattered. A boy reborn after extensive and horrific injuries after an agonisingly long period of recovery: a ghost who crawled his way out of the gates of hell, the last of his broken once-noble house.

That boy's transformation into his new identity of Mei Changsu/Margrace. His off-screen discovery of the truth that led to Meiling/Phoenix Gate and his continued on-screen quest to learn more. His determination to hold the true culprits accountable at immense personal cost and suffering. His dogged persistence despite incredible odds and visibly failing health. Being surrounded by people who love him and want to protect him, and himself constantly undermining their efforts because his goals are more important than his health. (Because in truth he knows perfectly well that he won't survive, but he can make a difference while he is alive.)

Something that amuses me hugely is how Lin Shu and Joshua literally both come back as 宗主? I love it so much! They come back with the same title! Both of them come back as clan leaders of an organisation that obeys their every command! Margrace is the 不死鳥教団の宗主(=leader of the cult of the undying bird) and Mei Changsu is 江左盟的宗主(=leader of the Jiangzuo alliance).

AND. Hooooo yea this PF fic is just JingSu at this point because oh, a handsome, principled, prideful, and stubborn prince who is a decorated warrior famed for his numerous military accomplishments and the man who is essential to the success of Lin Shu's/Joshua's plans? The resurrected boy barging into his prince's life: no matter how insane it is to choose your side, still "I choose you, Your Highness Prince Jing"??? The fact that the undervalued prince has a history with our secretive ghost protagonist? And (arguably) frequently thought about and missed the bright boy he knew once upon a time in happier days—"I know you," says Dion Lesage without a shadow of a doubt, extremely normal of him to instantly recognise a dead boy he met 20 years ago?

Mutual admiration of each other's integrity and capabilities? Reciprocal faith and remembrance? The foundation of deep respect and enduring friendship, their shared goals and shared family??? I froth at the mouth. JingSu are cousins, PF are stepsiblings by their parents' marriage. Each pair is bound by destiny and by choice—other people have made choices that permanently entangled each pair's lives together forevermore (Joshua+Dion and Jingyan+Xiaoshu), and the choice they themselves personally made to choose each other—

DO YOU SEE THE VISION.

How difficult it is to pursue justice when everyone involved is family and how impossible it is for Lin Shu the nigh-extinguished Chiyan fire for Joshua, the guttering flame, to indict Jingyan's father the Emperor of Liang Dion's father the Emperor of Sanbreque of his crimes against Joshua's family without opening old wounds and hurting many loved ones in the process including Dion himself. The people directly responsible for the tragedies are related to the protagonists in one way or another! If Lin Shu Joshua ever wants resolution for his grief unending, he has to strike at his beloved's father, and plot meticulously to avoid all of the dangers of attacking such a powerful enemy.

(Of course, I acknowledge the critical difference in Jingyan's versus Dion's feelings about their respective fathers.)

Now if only Joshua had done the famous blizzard scene with Dion instead of letting him go off to carry out his ill-advised coup—"Xiao Jingyan! You stand where you are! If I don't stop you today, what are you going to do? What do you think you can possibly accomplish if you charge in to challenge imperial power like this? Do you think you can simply force the Emperor [to do what you want/change his mind about Anabella Wei Zheng]? You have honour and valour but why do you just not have brains! How many more people must be hurt, you tell me!"

Anyway Joshy doesn't have the insufferable smugness of Xiaoshu but he does absolutely have Xiaoshu's pride, the sort of pride that is not just personal pride but familial pride too (after all Joshua comes from extremely prestigious lineage)—just look at how he speaks to Ultima in every scene, his lordly manner. Joshua I think has more Consort Jing to him, and Consort Jing is only my favourite character in all of NIF, in a drama where I love every character to bits—steel in softness, ever gentle ever polite yet not to be bullied and not to be underestimated and also extremely perceptive and learned and patient. Extra sweet bonus that Consort Jing is also a healer. Elegant, restrained, and very repressed. Who knows the depths of Joshua's Consort Jing's grief and loss?

But you know, Jingyan, near the end he is completely in charge—the prince who was always a great and respected general on the battlefield is now more than that, he's directly taking responsibility for all of his people as their future ruler—that means thinking on multiple fronts and exerting control over all of the key governing officials, not merely his military officers. He's leading with confidence, and there's that little scene where he apologises to Xiaoshu for taking action on several plans without consulting him, and Xiaoshu says no, this is the way it should be, this is the correct state of affairs: you are the crown prince, and this is rightfully your arena. You lead, you decide, you command.

Jingyan now sees clearly, he's found out and accepted the truths of his father's role in the atrocity at Meiling and everything that happened back then. He rightly perceives the failings of his family and seeks to redress past wrongs and avoid repetition of past mistakes, he weeds his court of the corrupt and the cowardly, he's become the best possible version of himself: stronger than ever, not just a powerful wartime commander-in-chief but an inspiring leader in the imperial court, careful, thoughtful and politically up-to-speed, finally stable in his sense of self instead of being permanently stuck as that angry and lost and hurting child. He has renewed purpose, he possesses hope for the future, he is able to dedicate himself fully to what he truly believes to be right and act in furtherance of righteous causes—

Critically, this is the man he becomes only because Xiaoshu came back into his life to shake it up. Without Xiaoshu he wouldn't even have the opportunity or means or knowledge. The radiant and fiery boy who Jingyan missed all his life came back to save him. From the outsider prince without contacts or support within the imperial court->to the crown prince who has the court subdued within the palm of his hand. From his pitiful existence as a neglected, unfavoured prince, his lowkey constant simmering resentment, his half-dutiful half-forced obedience of paternal orders that chafe at his conscience->into the steadfast and self-assured prince who is capable of fighting for the betterment of his country and the rallying point for virtuous officials who share those aspirations. The drama shows the audience that Jingyan is unquestionably ready to assume rulership, and together with the person he loves most, they achieve their goals, they save each other and their country (by arresting its downward slide due to the rotten state of its governance).

It's just a strong headcanon of mine (albeit one that I can absolutely present extensive arguments for) but to me Joshua Rosfield is the one and only character able to perform that same abovementioned function for Dion Lesage. Catalyst, turning point, spark that ignites the fire—whatever you call it, this is salvation. It is beautifully poetic that both Lin Shu and Joshua are characterised by fire. They are the fires of change that burn away the old life: before their arrival, the two war princes exist in a state of wearying routine, long-suffering and almost hopeless. Both Jingyan and Dion are shackled by their stations and duties, both are unloved sons with virtually no chance of their circumstances improving without drastic action, and both are trapped in precarious situations where they are subject to the whims of their father (if their imperial fathers turn on them, it will result in irrevocable loss of their status).

Dion's position is weak in the Oriflamme imperial court—pretty sure this point isn't up for debate, since no one ever speaks up in support of him despite the obvious injustice of his ill-treatment. His degree of influence in the court is much, much, so much less than any reasonable person might expect someone who is literally Bahamut and crown prince to have. The Council of Elders and other officials stand by haplessly while he is progressively stripped of power in favour of Olivier. Nobody defends him, nobody objects. (Or maybe some did, and were eliminated.) Even Dion himself submits to the abuse despite inherently superior abilities. Career politicians know which direction the winds blow—they don't defy their Empress, meaning they are either her cronies or too fearful of her to make themselves a target by any raising any opposition. Added to that is the implication that Dion was often away for long periods—and as Xiaoshu explicitly tells Jingyan in the drama, the crown prince cannot leave the imperial capital untended because that is the surest way to lose power. Dion may be Sanbreque's mightiest weapon and revered by the populace, but in practice his political sway is almost negligible. He is not able to leverage himself effectively.

Don't get me wrong, for these reasons I extra extra love the canon portrayal of J*** obeying Joshua against her wishes and T****** obeying Dion against his wishes—I absolutely think their obedience is, to them, the truest and highest and final demonstration of their love and understanding of their respective masters. And both Joshua and Dion expected no less from them. [I've not typed the names out just in case the search function ends up capturing the post and putting it in their tags, not because I hate those characters; I just don't want to be uncivil within fandom.]

But the very point here is that, you know, sometimes you aren't supposed to leave someone just because they say so. Sometimes it is the worst possible course of action to obey someone just because they command it. Sometimes it is undesirable at best and disastrous at worst to support someone's every decision out of unchanging (if uncharitable, one might even say unthinking) loyalty. That is a fundamentally unequal relationship, and while beautiful in its own way, is also uniquely doomed. The truth is, Joshua was always going to pull that trigger, and Dion was always going to pull that trigger: the master was always going to sever the relationship. Those pairs were doomed as soon as they began, because one party can only ever say yes, and yes means the end, you see? That is The End, that is the final break. By their very subordinate nature and by their established personalities within the game, "yes" is the one and only answer J*** and T****** can ever or will ever give. Their master will say, "Leave me", meaning it is over, and they will reply, "Yes, I obey". Because this is the only answer that proves their devotion, leaving them totally incapable of changing the script. Both J*** and T****** knew it and played their parts to perfection, and my heart hurts for them.

In NIF terms, I reckon J*** is Gong Yu, and T****** is Lie Zhanying. Zhanying will follow Jingyan to the end, whatever it may be—in fact in one episode he explicitly says so, and his loyalty is never in doubt. He will go to his death if Jingyan orders it. He will always support Jingyan's decisions. He and the rest of Jingyan's men have been following Jingyan even when the prince was out of favour and cold-shouldered and constantly dispatched to safeguard the country's frontiers—inconvenient places where comfort is low and the environment harsh. Jingyan's favoured brothers live in the lap of luxury within their palaces (like Olivier), while Jingyan himself (like Dion) has always been at war. And as with Zhanying, T****** will never be able to change this status quo on behalf of Jingyan (Dion). For all his boundless dedication to his lord, Zhanying will never be able to improve his prince's standing in the court, never be able to secure more political power for his prince (unless his prince decides to revolt/coup), never be able to make his prince's father love or prize his prince.

It is not a problem of character or willpower or desire. It is, simply put, a problem of power. It is a problem of class. The servant rises as their master rises, and falls as their master falls. In other words, the servant's status is determined by their master's status. Zhanying is Jingyan's deputy. When Jingyan's status was elevated, Zhanying naturally also assumed commandership over more troop divisions because those were allocated to the prince by the Liang Emperor. (There is no doubt in my mind that T******'s status as second-in-command is because of Prince Dion. He's too young to have earned that position by gradual promotion through meritorious accomplishment. Unless you're telling me that the knights dragoon don't have a single officer above age 30.) Zhanying is invaluable to Prince Jing in security, in warcraft, and in a variety of generic daily tasks. However, he is part of the rigid imperial system and lower in the hierarchy. He may persuade his lord, but he cannot order him. He may disagree, but he cannot defy. He may privately despise the Emperor/Empress, but he cannot show it and cannot act on it (literally treason). His role is to follow and obey. If he does not perform that role for whatever reason, he fundamentally negates his utility to his lord.

Ergo, endgame Jingyan is only possible because his true equal and soulmate, his real zhiji, came back to challenge the status quo. In fact, came back to challenge him. It is not merely the fact that this person understands him above all, it is also the fact that this person has the ability to act on that understanding. Jingyan is technically also Xiaoshu's prince, master, and eventual Emperor—so where is the difference?

The difference is, Lin Shu is comparable in nobility. Lin Shu is the cousin of princes and the incumbent Emperor's nephew, Lin Shu was raised amongst the imperial household, and played and studied and fought and hung out with them as peers of roughly equal rank. In this respect Joshua actually outstrips Lin Shu: Joshua is a prince by blood, and had Rosaria not fallen (especially if Sylvestre had not risen to the throne), would have been higher status than Dion. It's a massive pet peeve of mine that so many fans in XVI fandom don't seem to realise that Joshua was crown prince? Everybody knows Dion is crown prince, but do they realise Joshua is the original? In the English version prologue, the knights do call him "prince" and "your highness". The Rosarian throne is Joshua's by right of birth. At the time of their meeting as children, Joshua outranked Dion. They were equals as Dominants of their nation, but Dion back then was the child of a Cardinal and not the child of Sanbreque's ruler at that time; i.e. he was not a prince and not in line for the Sanbrequois throne.

The other wonderful similarity is Lin Shu's and Joshua's statuses as outsiders to the system when they reintroduce themselves to Jingyan/Dion. As Jingyan's strategist, Lin Shu has more leeway with regards to making his prince listen to him and take his advice. But importantly, he is now Mei Changsu, and that means he is able to play outside of the system. The imperial system effectively cast him out when it killed him. The strict codes of imperial conduct no longer chain him as they chain those confined within its structure. As a free agent unlike Zhanying, he has the right and privilege of choosing his own master. That includes the right to leave or to change his mind. And although the prince's strategist is supposed to be subordinate too, Xiaoshu would never truly be subordinate in the same fashion no matter how many times he bows his head, because at his core he is still high nobility and it still shines through despite everything. His manners are still perfect. He still navigates life with the easy expectation that people will serve him. He grabs the Duchess' hand and yells at Prince Jing and gloats at Marquis Ning. It's all the little ways that remind the audience, over and over, that this man was raised as a posh lordling. You can remove the boy from the upper class but you can't remove the upper class from the boy. It's the same with Joshua. His manners are still court-perfect. He still moves through life accepting that he will be served. He may bow his head to Dion and call him "your highness" but he also takes the liberty of throwing himself at Dion for a hug. Because to him, the prince is not some lofty and untouchable figure to be addressed with unfailing deference, he's just a friend.

(I know T****** is minor nobility, to be honest Zhanying definitely is too. The deputies of high level royals aren't going to be commoners. But I don't think I have to explain the gulf between ruling class/a close blood relative of the monarch versus lower nobility.)

Joshua too is an outsider that isn't beholden to Sanbreque's Emperor in the way that all of Dion and his knights owe their fealty. Again in this respect Joshua has it better than Xiaoshu—Joshua is his own sovereign master, and that should impact his perspective, his sense of self, and therefore his behaviour with others and how he navigates the world.

Gong Yu... I think anyone who's watched NIF will know exactly why I say that J***'s counterpart is Gong Yu lol. I think the s/h/u/a/t/e/s want her counterpart to be Princess (Duchess) Nihuang and they certainly produce fanwork in that vein, and I respect them for it because fans be doing what they love and hooray for that. But..... she's Gong Yu.

For all these reasons I am utterly obsessed with a Joshua that pushes back at Dion. The person able to challenge the status quo and challenge Dion. An equal who listens to Dion's absurd speech in the palace at Twinside and calls utter bullshit, who says, "A matter for the imperial family? are you joking? that's my mother, that's my younger brother. an imperial matter for you to resolve? say rather, our family, OUR problem to resolve. You don't get to go off half-cooked to arrest or kill my mother without actual political strategies, notwithstanding your military capability to launch a coup. And also, what about your dad? However much I love you, my darling Dion, we have to talk about the way that you insist on poor little meow meowing your awful father because my dear old mum didn't do Phoenix Gate alone and she for sure didn't immaculately conceive Olivier."

Endgame Dion isn't satisfactory in several glaring ways and it annoys me hugely that even unto the end he never grapples with and confronts the truth of his father instead of the idealised version that lives in his head. It's a little bizarre how Dion's arc is often praised by fans, since it feels very incomplete to me. Or, well, fine, perhaps just unsatisfying (since XVI simply isn't his story). His deep-seated need to be loved by his father prevents him from seeing anything clearly, which is so ironic for the only character to possess a third eye in canon? His honour and his might have been squandered in service to a selfish, uncaring, and objectively bad monarch, yet despite how earnestly Dion wants to be a good prince to his people he seems wholly incapable of recognising this fact? His mind repeatedly shies away from his father's shortcomings. In one scene he calls his father out for words befitting a tyrant, yet ultimately he persists in the belief that his father simply needs to be saved from Anabella's evil influence as if Sylvestre Lesage isn't a 50-year-old adult man who schemed his way to the throne and killed a woman's whole family and happily married that woman to beget legitimate offspring with her.

Soooo....... I've just spoiled the whole plot of my fic but it's really just NIF nonsense as usual and that is actually extremely predictable of me. But honestly the spoiling is not a big deal, because as with NIF, fundamentally my story is not meant to be plot-twisty and suspenseful—the real storytelling skill of the NIF drama is that the audience should be able to quickly grasp the overarching plot with no difficulty because the pleasure of this particular type of story is to watch the protagonist achieve their heart's desire, step by delicious step. The objective of this type of story is to properly pay off what it promises. NIF=the wronged protagonist seeks justice. We already know Lin Shu will obtain justice by the end of the tale, what we are here to enjoy is the journey! Same really for IEM I reckon; by the end of chapter 1 Joshua's goals should be really obvious, and since my little fic will have the happy ending tag because I only ever write happy endings, the audience basically knows he'll succeed—it's very much a journey not destination kind of story.

Ooof the post is crazy long and took me 3 nights to compose an answer and I haven't even managed to go into any TGCF elements but that work mainly contributes to characterisation instead of plot. One of the craziest XVI scenes was the Hideaway's sickbay after Twinside, the genuine regret Joshua expressed and how he blamed himself for not reaching out to Dion sooner; now the Empire and her prince lie in ruins etc. Surely he remembers this is the country that destroyed his own? Surely??? What kind of person, robbed of home and throne, can find it in himself to respond with so much empathy and kindness? Sanbreque has now experienced pretty much the same tragedy they inflicted on Rosaria two decades ago, and isn't that just the funniest parody of divine retribution? Instead of viewing this as Sanbreque's just deserts, Joshua Rosfield pities them and wishes he could have helped them avert this disaster.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wonderfully Xie Lian-coded. Something something someone who has been through the worst and nevertheless chooses goodness and kindness. Someone who intimately understands the ugliest and lowest depths that people sink to, yet refuse to lose themselves in that temptation even when vengeance would seem perfectly justified.

You've known for a long time now that I love a Joshua who is very similar to his mother. This is why lol. It's about that delicious, delicious contrasting foil. It is the difference between Jun Wu & Xie Lian, as it is the difference between Anabella & Joshua. That the indestructible integrity we see from Xie Lian or Joshua didn't come easy, they weren't born perfect, their ethics were tested and forged and earned through suffering the likes of which most people will never know. The person that they have each become is the sum of their choices actively made. In the canon of TGCF and XVI, both of these ex-crown-princes live on in disgrace, in circumstances best described as reduced and humiliating, their respective kingdoms fallen, their wealth and glory spent—but they are better and braver human beings than everyone around them, they are beautiful and noble souls, quiet and unacknowledged, and only Hua Cheng and Dion truly see and fully understand that (and therefore cannot help but love them utterly).

I've a few more thoughts regarding Joshua swirling around as captured in other Xie Lian posts: here, here, here, and here. Not sure if you know TGCF or are into it as well, but just leaving links to those posts here for my own benefit too. I've been gravitating towards phoenixflare comparisons in various hualian meta posts since early 2024 so clearly these concepts have been stewing in my head for some duration, but I haven't fully teased out what it is about these two ships that gives me that niggling sense of connecting similarities.

^ Whereas I clearly know exactly what it is about JingSu that makes me point and holler "THEM!"

[shhhsecretsideblog]

They had been trying for a baby for a while, when finally she was looking at a positive test. Unfortunately, there was only one time it could have happened. A bit too much to drink, a few confessions that she'd sometimes thought about her husbands best friend in some of her more intimate fantasies, and just like that his little secret had taken root in her belly.

She was excited to be a mom, but can't bring herself to tell her husband she's expecting. Hiding her bump as best she can, not letting herself be intimate with him in case he noticed her beautiful changing body, how firm and heavy her belly had gotten. She has a plan. Give birth in secret where he won't find out, and then claim someone left the baby there. "Probably some teenager or something, can't imagine how she could raise it." Of course, since they're struggling to have one of their own, it's all but a sign. Of course they should take it in.

A perfect little plan for the eager mom to get out of her bad choice concequence free.

At least, it would be, if her waters hadn't broken in the shower, and the contractions were starting to get worse and worse, no matter how she tried to pretend otherwise and act like nothing was happening...

Extramarital Consequences

AN: I just wanted to write a short little rp drabble, but instead it comes out as a full scale 3k word fic. Thanks for the prompt MuchBirth, it was a great concept. Hope you like it. [fpreg, tw: vomit, tw: cheating]

“Are you alright in there, babe?” My husband's voice sounded through the bathroom door and I tried to swallow the groan that was sitting in my throat.

Why now, why today?! I had done so well concealing this pregnancy from everyone, thanks to the cold winter and the abundance of thick oversized jumpers and coats. And for the fact I was carrying a rather modest, if heavy, bump. Said bump had dropped in recent days and I had hoped the baby was merely getting prepared and wouldn’t be coming for another week when Daniel would be away on business. The baby, it seemed, had other ideas.

The contractions had started in the early hours and I laid beside my husband quietly breathing through each pain and praying it was just braxton hicks. But they just kept on coming. Every 40 minutes… every 30 minutes… and when they got down to 20 minutes apart I knew I had to move.

Hiding downstairs in the dark, I paced around our living room and kitchen as the contractions got closer together and more and more intense. Why couldn’t it have been a work day?! Daniel would leave the house early and I could labour and birth this baby in secret just as I’d planned. But it was Saturday and we were scheduled to go to a family event that afternoon. The heavy weight of the baby sitting low in my pelvis confirmed there was little-to-no chance of me making it to that party.

I paced around the downstairs of our town house until the early morning with its first glimpse of a rising sun filtering through the windows. Bracing myself against walls, tables, all manner of furniture, I spent hours swaying my hips through each agonising contraction that struck, praying they would eventually stop but they never did. I heard Daniel get out of bed and jump in the shower and I busied myself doing the dishes when he came downstairs. He looked at me curiously, seeing my sweaty and flushed face and asked if I was coming down with something. I assured him I was fine as he made his morning coffee, but soon had to twist back around to face the sink to hide the grimace on my face as another strong contraction barrelled its way through my womb. My hands gripped the counter in a white knuckle grip and it took everything I had not to whimper from the pain.

After assuring Daniel that I was alright, I disappeared quickly back upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I turned on the shower, the tiled room echoing the loud noise of the powerful jets, and allowed myself to groan deeply through the next contraction. They were less than 15 minutes apart and had the ability to steal my breath away. Gripping the sink and panting heavily, my mind began to spiral and panic. How the fuck was I going to keep this from Daniel?! We were struggling to conceive, if his discovered this pregnancy there would be no way I could pass this baby off as his. He would find out I slept with his best friend and my dream of a suburban family life would be destroyed. The baby sank lower in my hips and my knees dipped into a semi-squat from the increase in pressure. We were supposed to go to a party later, with family and friends, and Daniel would be by my side all day. But this baby was coming, soon if the pressure between my legs was any indication.

I stepped into the shower, attempting to ease the pain knifing at my lower back. Cupping my protruding belly I whispered a plea to the baby to stay put a while longer. I loved my pregnant body and was sad not to have shared this experience, to marvel at the incredible changes of pregnancy, with my partner. But there was an alluring excitement in keeping the baby secret - something just known by them and me. I couldn’t wait to meet the life I had been growing.

My thoughts tempted fate and the next contraction was soon upon me and I doubled over in the shower bracing my knees. The pressure between my thighs was building, the steaming hot water doing very little to ease the pain as it crested, my belly turning to stone and pushing everything downward. “Mnghhhhhhh!!” I grunted, involuntary, and almost dropped into a squat as the urgency built. No… baby, not now.

The water at my feet turned a pinkish murky colour and I knew from the release of pressure that my waters had just broken. Fuck.

When the contraction faded and my legs stopped shaking I carefully stepped out of the shower. Okay… my water’s broken but that doesn’t mean I’ve run out of time. I just need to think of a way of getting Daniel out of the house. I could feel the baby shift and kick within my womb, protesting the situation as much as I was, its head pressing eagerly against my cervix. “Hoooo… it’ll be okay little one. I promise— mnnnnhhhh…” Every breath, every word, that slipped past my lips now laced with a pained groan.

“Are you alright in there, babe?” Daniel asked from the other side of our bathroom door. I clamped my mouth shut and swallowed the involuntary noises from escaping.

“Nng— yeah— fine.” I somehow gritted. The weight and pressure pushing down in my pelvis was quickly making me nauseous.

“Are you sure? You weren’t looking too great downstairs.”

Damn him and his caring nature, just move away from the door before I scream! A contraction struck mere minutes after the last and I couldn’t stop the gasp as my belly visibly hardened and contorted inwards. The pressure was mounting, expanding like a balloon about to burst, my pelvis being shoved apart to make space for the large head that was pressing atop my cervix. I couldn’t breathe, the sensations overwhelming my senses, my stomach rolled and my throat gagged. I was going to be sick.

Dropping to my knees, naked on the floor, I hunched over the toilet bowl and promptly vomited the remnants of last night's dinner into the porcelain. My whole torso contracted in on itself in more ways than one and I completely lost all semblance of control. My taut belly, hardened by labour pains, convulsed and I heaved and coughed loudly. The force of throwing up also resulted in my womb squeezing against the bowling ball in my pelvis, bearing down on the already low head and pushing it into the birth canal.

“Oh sweetheart, are you sick?” Daniel asked through the door. “Let me in honey.”

“No, just— give me a minute…” I gruffed, laying my head in the crook of my elbow.

“We don’t have to go today if you’re not well. I can stay here and look after you.”

Hell no, that is the last thing I need. I asked him to get me some water from the kitchen, to buy me some precious time to gather myself. When the sickness passed I hesitantly put a hand between my legs… the baby so low it felt like it was about to fall out at any minute. I had pushed. I didn’t mean to, it was automatic. But still my body had pushed the baby lower towards its exit. Thankfully it was not as low as it felt as I couldn’t feel a head, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. Wrapping myself in a fluffy dressing gown and schooling as neutral a face as I could, I unlocked the door and greeted my husband as he brought me the requested water.

“I don’t think I’m going to go today, I feel like shit.” I said honestly, taking a sip and slowly walking towards our bed, careful not to waddle from the massive head lodged in my pelvis.

“It’s okay babes, we can cancel. I’ll call your parents.” Daniel offered, helping me to sit.

“No—” I said a little too quickly. “You- you can still go. I’ll just take it easy and s-sleep it off…” He looked at me curiously, trying to ascertain just how unwell I was and if I could be left alone. “Really,” I pleaded, “I’ll be fine. Go, have fun.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Really—mmhh…” My hands clenched tight as another contraction was beginning to appear, my fingernails burrowing deep into my palms. “W-why don’t you go e-early… see if they need h-help setting up.” My stomach tensed beneath my fluffy dressing gown and I shifted subtly on the bed as an immeasurable pressure returned with the pain. This baby was not waiting until the afternoon for Daniel to leave for the party, I desperately needed him to go now.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Daniel joked, tucking a frazzled lock of hair behind my ear. “I want to stay and look after you darling, make sure you’re okay.”

“Mnnn… I just need to lie down…” I huffed, trying to keep the strain from my voice. My body was itching to move, to sway and move my hips, to open up for the emerging baby as the contractions worked hard to deliver the child. But I had to fight against the instincts, ignore all the cues in the recess of my brain. Slumping sideways down on the bed, I curled over my contracting belly and arduously moved to lie under the covers. My skin was radiating heat but I couldn’t remove my dressing gown, couldn’t risk exposing a glimpse of my pregnant body. Had to stay covered, had to hide this baby, had to stay sweating beneath the fluffy gown and duvet covers.

Daniel stroked my hair as I curled up and I couldn’t help but scrunch my eyes through the pain barrelling between my hips. Oh baby, wait a bit more… please.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright hun?” Daniel questioned once more and I managed to gruff out an assurance, stating that I’d be fine and just needed to be alone.

Thankfully I felt the bed shift, my husband getting up and leaving the room saying something about calling the family and giving me space to rest. I sighed in relief at the sound of the bedroom door closing.

Lying on my side helped the constant stabbing pain in my lower back but it was doing nothing to prevent the baby from making its way further down. I could feel it pressing against every nerve from the inside, pushing its way through the narrow space. I tried to squeeze my thighs, to clench everything I could to stop its movements but nothing worked. The pressure was constant, sitting heavily and urgently at the apex of my thighs. Rolling forward I buried my face deep in the pillow to muffle the rattled groan that came from the pit of my stomach. The baby was right there, its imminent arrival clear by the agonising pressure consuming me. I tried to fight it, meeting every wave with defiance, but my attempts were failing. I needed to push.

Before I was even aware of what was happening my whole body tensed and bore down with the peak of the contraction. It felt…satisfying, to give in to the urge and push alongside the tensing muscles, to work with my body instead of against it. Gasping a ragged breath, I pushed again, more forcefully this time. It was moving, inching closer towards my folds. Without thinking I grabbed my leg, still wrapped under the layers of clothing and duvet, and I pulled it towards me so my thigh was beside my contracting belly. I had to make more room, I needed to open myself up for the emerging babe. The back of my knee was damp from sweat and I gripped it tight, opening my hip beneath the covers, and gritting my teeth I pushed again.

It was coming, I could feel it! The contraction soon ended and I let my leg fall back against the other, curled up sideways on the bed and panting frantic breaths. A knock on the bedroom door brought me out of my birthing bubble, suddenly remembering Daniel was still in the house. Oh fuck, what if he heard me pushing?!

“Honey..? Can I come in?” His tentative voice asked and opened the door a crack. I groaned, neither an acceptance or refusal, but it was all I could manage.

Daniel stepped in our bedroom softly. “I’ve spoken with your parents and I’m going to head over there early and help them set up. I know you like to be alone when you’re unwell.” I nearly cried with relief.

“But I’ll come back to check on you before the party starts, okay?” Daniel perched on the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers through my sweaty hair. I nodded and exhaled heavily, hoping it looked like I was just fighting nausea and nothing more. “I’ll get you a bucket, just in case.” Daniel said sweetly and disappeared into our en-suite bathroom.

The contractions were right on top of each other now, the baby was sitting right between my legs desperate to get out. The next wave hit when Daniel was out of sight and I panted as quietly as I could. Don’t push… don’t push… don’t push… I thought over and over again. Curled up on my side my legs drifted apart, one leg bent at the knee, the other straight down the length of the bed. The pressure was slowly killing me; the strain of holding everything in, the baby slipping lower, pressing gently against my labia despite my efforts. Fuck I needed to push, but I daren’t. Daniel was still here…. Breathe… don’t push… breathe… don’t push… Even with the mantra my body did not adhere to the instructions. At the end of each measured breath I could feel my muscles bearing down and pushing the baby, its head starting to part my sensitive lips.

Daniel came back into the room and placed a bucket beside the bed, right next to the pillow where my face was half buried. “How you holding up?” He asked affectionately. I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, every ounce of strength going into not actively pushing. Instead I closed my eyes and tilted my face further into the pillow.

In the faint background of my personal hell I could hear my husband slowly pottering around our bedroom as he got himself dressed and ready to leave for the party. Every minute dragged on for hours, as he found his trousers and shirt, muttering to himself, all the while I wanted to scream and howl and push! The baby was parting my folds, its head surely poking out between my thighs. Tears dampened the pillow and I was trembling, trying desperately hard not to push. But even without my participation, the baby was slowly making its way into the world. I nervously lowered one of my hands beneath the heavy covers, feeling between my legs. Oh my gosh… that’s my baby I thought as I felt the slimy surface of the partial sliver of its head. It was moving down, every contraction squeezing it further out of my body. My palm clamped hard over the emerging head… don’t… don’t pushhhhhh… a weak groan rumbled my throat as my body uncontrollably pushed, hard.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Daniel asked.

I was far from okay, I was pushing his best friend's baby into my own palm for fucks sake. In between pushes, I gulped a breath and offered a short and snappy “uh-huh” before my body was forced to bear down once more. My hand remained steadfast in its position between my legs and thankfully the baby didn’t slip out any further. Once the contraction eased I panted a relieved sigh.

“I’m heading out now babes.” Daniel stated aloud. “I’ll be back to check on you later. I love you.”

“Ngghh— love you too—” my rasped voice came from under the covers. I was in too much pain to notice the guilt that twisted in my chest.

I remained frozen in the bed, my ears listening desperately for the sound of the front door to close and his car to start. The roar of the engine, the glorious sound, slipped through the vents in the bedroom window and I sobbed with relief. He was gone!!

Immediately I threw the covers off my sweaty skin and tore myself out the tangled mess of my dressing gown. The baby was partially crowning and my gods I needed to push. Everything hurt, everything ached, I needed to move but there was no strength left in my body to get up. Hooking a leg over the edge of the mattress I rolled off the bed and slipped down to my knees on the luscious carpet.

With my elbows on the mattress and my face buried against the sheets, my knees widened on the floor and my hips sank downwards as I pushed with everything that I had. Burning fiery pressure erupted between my thighs and I growled through the excruciating pain, pushing and pushing and pushing. I couldn’t take it anymore, this baby had to get out. My entire body trembled as the baby stretched me open, but I kept going push after push and with a primal grunt the head finally slipped out. Relief flooded through me as the pressure eased. Panting, desperate for air, I was barely aware of any of my other senses; of the now-damp carpet under my knees, or the sound of the engine returning to our driveway, or the creek of the bedroom door being opened.

“Honey?… I errr… I forgot my phone and then I heard you scream. What’s… what’s going on?” Daniel asked, frozen in shock at the door.

“…um… I erm…” I stuttered, speechless and naked beside the bed, an illegitimate baby hanging between my legs. “I umm…I— I— ohhhh… oh I need to push….!!!” Before I could think of an explanation my body was bearing down once more, birthing my husband’s best friend’s baby right beside our marital bed.

[iammistressofmyfate]

HI I NEED 33 FOR THE SPICY PROMPTS, PLEASE AND THANK YOU 😘

Ohhhhh! OKAY!!! I have never written anything like this before so here goes nothin'! I hope you like it and thank you for the request, friend!!! 🥰🥰

33. Porn/Sex Tape

(Sweet... but also spicy 🔥)

[Kinky/Spicy Prompts]

Ronan held up his phone, tongue between his teeth, a little smile teasing his lips as he watched Adam across the room on his screen. He was naked, toweling his hair off after they’d run in from the sudden summer storm that had just hit them. 

He was all lovely, elegant lines of wiry muscle and Ronan could watch him like this all day, every day.

Thunder rumbled in the distance but Ronan wasn’t paying it any mind, his attention completely on Adam. Adam sighed, pulling the towel from his head, his dusty colored hair all mussed, and damp. He turned his head to look at Ronan, brows furrowing. 

“Are you filming me?” he asked, covering himself with the towel, and Ronan laughed, looking at Adam over the top of his phone. He didn’t say anything, letting his eyes slide back down to his screen. 

“What the fuck, Lynch?! Stop!” Adam grumbled, throwing something at Ronan, which Ronan dodged, laughing some more. 

“C’mon, Parrish. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Adam replied, his Henrietta accent thicker and sweeter because he was irritated and it warmed Ronan down to his core. Adam crawled onto the bed, grappling for Ronan’s phone, but Ronan held his arm away. 

He laughed, the two of them wrestling, Ronan keeping the phone out of reach. 

“Stop it, asshole. Ow!” Adam hissed, Ronan having bit his shoulder. “That was dirty.” 

Ronan hummed, licking the bite, and then kissing over it. “You like it.” 

Adam huffed, but didn’t deny it. He was laying mostly on top of Ronan, cock half hard, pressing against Ronan’s hip. Ronan looked at him, resting his free hand on Adam’s waist, fingertips dragging in featherlight patterns over his skin. 

Adam blinked slowly, took a breath, let it out. His pretty blue eyes looked darker and Ronan smiled at him. He lifted his head, eyes on Adam’s mouth, and then Adam’s eyes, and then back again, and Adam got the message, because he leaned down to meet Ronan, kissing him. 

It was a warm kiss, Adam kissing Ronan’s top lip, then his bottom lip, then both together, sliding his tongue into Ronan’s mouth. Ronan made a soft, pleased noise, arm sliding over Adam to hold him close. 

They made out for a few long, drawn out minutes, before Adam pulled away, and Ronan brushed their noses. 

“Let me film us,” he murmured, feeling bold. Summer was almost over and Adam would be going back to school for the start of another semester. His Senior year. The final stretch. He was twenty-two and perfect and Ronan was so in love with him it made him ache. 

Adam cocked his head to the side, fair brows furrowing, Ronan reached up to kiss the wrinkle. 

“Why?” he replied softly. “I send you plenty of nudes for your spank bank.” He reached up, tugging at Ronan’s ear, and Ronan turned his head, snapping his teeth at Adam’s fingers. 

“Yeah. I know. But… I don’t know… I miss you when we’re not together. And a video is a hell of a lot better than just dick pics.”

“What about phone sex?”

“Sometimes I want to jerk off to you and you’re unavailable, Einstein.”

Adam rolled his eyes and let out an irritated sigh. 

“Besides,” Ronan continued, kissing Adam’s neck, gently biting his skin, leaving what would be a noticeable hickey. “I know you like some kinky shit.”

“Not just me,” Adam murmured and Ronan knew without having to look that Adam's eyes were closed. He pressed into Ronan more and Ronan knew that he was going to get his way. He kissed over the mark he left, sliding his hand over one of Adam’s ass cheeks, squeezing appreciatively. 

Adam opened his eyes and looked at him. “On one condition.”

“Shoot.”

“You send it to me.”

“Pfft,” Ronan replied. “Was gonna do that anyway. Anything else?”

“How the hell do we film ourselves?”

It took several long minutes to figure out how to prop Ronan’s phone up which involved Adam McGuverying a selfie stick, a pile of books, the headboard of their bed, and duct tape. Ronan was badly impressed but Adam had always been resourceful and that had always been a turn on for him. 

“Solutions guy,” Ronan chuckled, as Adam flopped down next to him, and tugged Ronan closer. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Adam sighed, pulling Ronan down for a kiss. 

In truth, Ronan forgot all about the phone filming them, getting lost in Adam like he always did when they had sex. He ran his hands into Adam’s hair, kissing all over his tanned, freckled face. He worked his way down Adam’s elegant neck, the delicate outline of his collarbone. 

He kissed down Adam’s sternum, running his tongue over one nipple, thumb and forefinger teasing the other. Adam sighed out, hands sliding from Ronan’s head, to his shoulders, long, lovely fingers digging into his shoulder muscles. 

Ronan loved the taste of Adam’s skin, salty and familiar. He loved the way Adam’s sparse body hair caught on his own as their bodies pressed together. He loved the noises Adam made, soft at first, uncertain, before growing bolder as he sunk further into pleasure. 

Ronan loved knowing what Adam liked. Like how his chest was so sensitive and that he liked when Ronan smoothed his hands over Adam’s ribs. Ronan followed a trail of freckles to the dip of Adam’s hip, pressing a kiss to the faint trail of hair at his navel, all the way down to the darker curls at the base of Adam’s cock. 

Adam had a very pretty dick. Long and lean like the rest of him, with a few freckles that Ronan found insanely endearing. 

“Ronan,” Adam sighed and Ronan glanced up, hovering over Adam. He smiled at him and winked, before swirling his tongue around the head of Adam’s dick. “Oh fuck,” Adam breathed, mouth open, eyes closed, body pressed back. 

Ronan hummed, his whole body warm, heat pooled in his belly, so fucking turned on just knowing that Adam was enjoying this. And Ronan was, too. God, he really was. He sucked the head of Adam’s dick into his mouth, loving the taste and smell of him. He took Adam down, using his tongue and a light scrape of teeth. 

He sucked Adam just the way he knew Adam like, the way he knew would get Adam to moan, and maybe even beg a little. Ronan curled his hands around Adam’s lean thighs, stroked his skin as he blew him. 

Adam panted against the pillows and Ronan pulled off of him, licking him once more, watching Adam’s chest rise and fall rapidly, his tan skin ruddy. He lifted his head, opened his eyes, and Ronan just grinned devilishly up to him, leaving a mark on the inside of Adam’s thigh. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

Adam flopped back onto the pillows, raising his hands from Ronan’s shoulders to push against the headboard. 

“Fuck, Lynch.” 

“We’re getting there, doll. Promise.”

Adam knocked his knee against Ronan’s skull in reply and Ronan snickered. He maneuvered his way back up Adam’s body, humming as Adam’s hands slid down his back to his ass, squeezing. 

“Wanna ride me?” Ronan asked, leaning down to slide his lips against Adam’s in a not quite kiss. 

“Yeah,” Adam replied agreeably. 

They flipped positions, Adam straddling Ronan, running his hands appreciatively down Ronan’s torso, and Ronan felt himself blush. Adam's face was sweet, looking at Ronan as if Ronan was the only thing worth looking at.  

Adam smiled, tugging at Ronan’s new-ish nipple piercings and Ronan gasped, the sensation going straight to his dick. Adam shook his head, smiling wider. “I love what this does for you,” he hummed, and kissed Ronan filthily, all tongue and teeth. 

They found the lube and Adam lubed his hand, reaching behind himself to stroke Ronan’s dick. Ronan had his lip between his teeth, hands around Adam’s hips, eyes half-lidded as Adam jerked him off with a knowing touch. 

“Adam,” he warned. 

“You’re good,” Adam cooed back, pulling his fist from Ronan, using his fingers to guide Ronan into him. Ronan watched, holding his breath, as Adam slid down onto him. He went slowly, carefully, eyes closed, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted. 

Adam breathed shallowly, concentrating. There was resistance at first and then Adam’s muscles gave, and Ronan slid inside. 

“God,” Adam huffed, head tilted back. Ronan’s brain had short circuited, only able to think about the way Adam felt around his cock. He was warm and tight and they were connected so deeply. Ronan slid his hands to Adam’s ass, squeezing, and Adam smiled, starting to move. 

It was a slow rhythm at first, the two of them easing into it, rocking together, before Adam picked up speed, and with it, his volume. Soon enough, Adam was fucking himself hard and fast against Ronan’s cock, and Ronan was holding on for the ride. 

The bedframe thumped into the wall rhythmically and Adam panted and whined and moaned and Ronan was so gone for him. 

“Adam,” he managed before he was coming so fucking hard that lights danced across his vision. And Adam wasn’t far behind, jerking himself off, and fucking himself through his orgasm, cum splashed all over Ronan’s abs and chest, and Adam’s fist. 

He collapsed forward and Ronan wrapped his arms around him, face buried in his chest, both of them catching their breath. Adam held him and Ronan pressed kisses to his skin, tasting salt. Adam kissed the top of his buzzed head and Ronan felt him reach for the abandoned towel on the bed, wiping his hand on it. 

Adam sighed, sliding both hands under Ronan, holding him. They stayed like that for a while, exchanging little kisses, and soft, sweet nothings, before Adam retrieved Ronan’s phone. 

“Wanna watch it?” Ronan asked and Adam laughed, rolling out of bed. 

“No. Come shower.” 

A week later, Adam was back at school, and Ronan was back on the road. They would meet up again in a few weeks but Ronan was feeling Adam’s absence acutely. 

Ronan watched the video. He was surprised how decent it was. The way it really captured Ronan going down on Adam and then Adam riding him. It was… pretty sexy, especially the sound, but Ronan liked that it caught their tenderness, too. 

Cuddled together, murmuring to each other, kissing. It made his heart ache and he missed Adam more. 

He hadn’t seen the end of the video and watched it in its entirety, surprised. 

His face was tucked against Adam’s chest, Adam’s arm around him, holding him, as he reached for the phone. He was smiling, looking perfectly fucked out and gorgeous. He winked at the camera and then blew a kiss, before turning the video off. 

Ronan laughed, his heart full, settling the phone on his chest, closing his eyes. Grateful for a boyfriend who loved Ronan just as much as Ronan loved him. He looked at his phone once more and sent Adam a text. 

i fucking love you

A few moments later, a reply. 

I fucking love you, too.

END

[bang-bang-gang]

public sex kinkmeme fill to go with isiah's mexico holiday vlog. happy belated mexico independence day, have some… daisiah? dannyzay? anyway—don't do drugs, thanks! or do, just don't do your research through smut fics on ao3! <3

[trudemaethien]

for the prompts:

As you know, I have not read the RepComm books, so I have no idea how cursed this is. I could have rolled again but I thought it was funnier this way.

Ship: Mereel/Atin

Words: freighter, root, biography

I guffawed when I saw this pairing. idk if I’m going to be able to work those words into whatever their deal is but I’m definitely writing Them because it is indeed cursed and funny. (spoiler alert i didn’t manage it, i hope you’ll forgive me shdjskf lol)

Kal’buir has a new set of favorites, scrappy survivors cobbled together from the orphans of the clusterfuck bloodbath premiere of the war that was Geonosis. Three of them had already been in Sergeant Skirata’s commando cohort, so Mereel knows them vaguely.

One had not.

The Arcee Vau turned over to them calls himself Atin, a properly mando name, not to be confused with Mereel’s own brother A’denn. How does anyone confuse stubbornness with wrath, anyway?

Mereel knows better than to get invested in the lives of ordinary clones. They’re a chit a unit, these days—maybe two chits for a commando, value doubled when the quantity halved on day one. It doesn’t matter; Mereel and his brothers weren’t bought so cheaply, and he has higher things to concern himself with than interpersonal affairs.

Well, Ordo liked Qibbu’s rutian twi’lek barmaid, but instead of having the decency to like him back she’s taken a fancy to —you guessed it— Atin. Scarred, sullen Atin seems tacitly pleased with her attentions, and Ordo’s not kicking up a fuss, just sulking, yet Mereel cares more about the whole thing than he can justify as being on Ordo’s behalf. It’s not like the girl’s his type either.

Seems he hasn’t been subtle enough in watching.

“Something on my face?” Atin challenges him coolly, daring him to state the obvious. He’s stern and unamused, and that just makes it more enticing to fuck with him.

“Yeah, just a little”—Mereel reaches up and scrubs his thumb over the corner of Atin’s mouth, unscarred side—“shit, maybe nerf-stew, you got there.”

People are watching them. Beneath his deliberately calm and neutral face, Atin’s eyes have a gleam like he wants to bite Mereel’s fingers off but is choosing not to resort to violence out of some misguided notion it makes him the bigger man.

Mereel smirks at him and scrapes his thumb clean with his teeth, sitting back. Attention lapses from them at the lack of escalation, but Mereel can tell it’s not the end of it, just the beginning. Atin has the expression of a man contemplating the manner of his retribution, and Mereel cannot wait to see how he does it.

No question if he will. Would any such atin’la verd ever take it lying down?

The anticipation will satisfy until his revenge is served. Delicious.

fellas is it gay to touch another man’s lips and then put your fingers in your mouth… 🤭

(mereel just has to push all the buttons to see what they do. atin only looks nonreactive)

What Does This Do? 🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51600454

[necrotic-nephilim]

just read the lobotomy fic and i adore the way you write all the characters. i relate to tim already but the way you write him was like you lobotomies me and out my brain guts on the page. please tell me you have more

thank you so much! i'm glad you loved it! it's delightful to know the fic was... immersive in that was, lol. it was fun to write!

i do have other dead dove fics you can find on my masterlist here, but that fic is the only lobotomy fic i have. i have plans for a lot more dead dove-esque fics i'm working on to come out hopefully soonish, though none of them are going to feature lobotomies. i might add more to that fic though, i've got some ideas i want to explore, but there's so many other things i'm working on first. i have a whole rough schedule of fics to work on. but if people really like the lobotomy fic™ i can definitely prioritize writing more for the universe! or other lobotomy fics in general, i've got some other vague ideas in that vein.

[luna-baby01]

Luna Gets Big, Part I You've enjoyed these past few months of married life. Living within the bounds of matrimony suits you. You can't recall a time in your life when you've been happier than you are at the present moment. Your husband is everything you could have asked for in a man and the two of you are deeply in love with each other. You both indulge each other's appetites as much as possible. All this wedded bliss, of course, has caught up with you in particular. Your figure, already quite soft from a lifelong love of eating your fill (and a curious fascination with stuffing yourself to make your belly become as round as possible) and being comfortable in your relationship with your husband, only further softened after he put that ring on your finger, as women are wont to do shortly following the union between man and wife. The several dozen pounds you've picked up since then have gone to "all the right places," keeping your man's attention rapt with your jigglesome body.

That fascination with making your belly as round as possible, however, is related to your true desire: To become pregnant. Mind-numbingly, mind-bogglingly, enormously, gargantuanly pregnant. So much so that merely walking becomes a difficulty. You chose your husband with this in mind, and he knows this most intimate of facts about you. The two of you have waited some time to get started on that goal, but you think the time is right for you to take the plunge and get serious about achieving it. That's not to say that the two of you haven't been intimate, just that you weren't trying to get you pregnant. What follows is days and nights of toe-curling ecstasy to that end.

A month later, a test confirms your success. You wait and see how this affects you, taking in the good and the bad. Your maternal swell grows quite rapidly, much more rapidly than one is to expect over the course of a normal pregnancy, but that's the thing: This is no normal pregnancy.

When you're looking full term at the end of the first trimester (and your figure is quite fuller as well), the doctor drops a bombshell on you: You're having decuplets. Ten babies in your belly. Your husband did that to you, and he knows it. You struggle to contain yourself in the doctors office, your fantasy being fulfilled beyond your wildest dreams. You cannot wait to get home and pounce on him to thank him in the most pleasurable way possible for this, what you now consider your life's greatest success. You think you cannot possibly be happier than in this exact moment, but just you wait. It gets better.

You've been waddling and haven't been able to see your feet for the past month already, something unthinkable after being pregnant for only two months. The strain being so heavily pregnant has put on your body only excites you further, eagerly and greedily anticipating just how much bigger you can get, knowing full well you have no real control over how your stomach (and the rest of your body) will swell. The process is out of your hands. Your husband made that decision for you when he got you pregnant. All of this is his fault. You know it, he knows it, and you adore him for doing this to you.

That lack of control, of course, also extends to your appetite. Since getting pregnant, you've been eating more. Much more. SO much more. You can scarcely go an hour without having to put something in your stomach to quell your ravenous hunger spurred on by that gaggle of fetuses inside of you, all of them egging you on so that they can grow fat, heavy, and massive off of your voracious indulgence. You cram your gullet with the most calorie-dense, fattening foods imaginable, all at your babies' irresistible insistence. It's becoming impossible to find maternity clothes than contain your swell due to the size of the fetuses in your womb, growing ever larger, much larger than they would normally be at this stage. Make it ten of them and you can hardly imagine how truly enormous your stomach must be because of those ten elephantine fetuses growing & expanding as quickly as possible. You truly wonder how much longer you will be able to remain ambulatory, a thought that actually starts to excite you. (continued in Part II)

Good lord…this is fucking phenomenal…and its only part one😳😳😳😳

Thank you SO much! Holy shit