#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.

[im-his-druidess]

As I mentioned in this post here Thomas is insatiable for you so sleepy sex/cuddlefucking is a constant thing.

GIF by godzillawillsaveus

But because of this you are often left exhausted and he does, in his own twisted way, care deeply for his pretty little flower, so he tries his best to take care of you and leaves you alone throughout the day if he's been especially handsy the days previous.

At night, however, he just can't help himself.

You are so soft and sweet looking. Pliable and warm. Thomas will cuddle up closer to your back, nuzzling into your hair with happy sleepy grunts as he's dragged from his dreams as whatever woke him up fell to the back of his mind, and he's pawing at your body as if by instinct. He's more gentle as he guides the blunt swollen head of his cock into your small cunt, the tight squeeze forcing you awake with a whine, and he's huffing into your ear like an animal as he rocks against your body in an almost soothing motion that soon relaxes you.

You are eventually lulled back into a state of in-between sleep and awake. Everything blissfully fuzzy as pleasure slips down your spine just like a warm Texas breeze that you've grown to love before simmering low in your pelvis and Thomas cups your breasts with another happy sound in the back of his throat before settling into a slower rhythm that had you sinking even further against him and falling back asleep.

[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.”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Mother, its lonely and cold in the horni jail cell. Please provide smut pls. Villain interrogating hero turns spicy, please.

The villain was slow to circle their prey.

Though the hero saw nothing more in it than pure dramatics and a tinge of staggering boredom, they shut their mouth and let their enemy do what they clearly deemed important.

“Do you know the difference between you and a dog?” the villain asked, patience on their tongue.

“I bite harder?” they guessed.

“You,” the villain said, one hand on the hero’s neck, the other on their shoulder, “my dear, follow me around without a command. I think of it as quite rude.”

“It’s my job.”

“Is it, puppy?”

An embarrassing blush spread over the hero’s cheeks and a coy consternation overcame them so suddenly that it in itself was embarrassing. It was a pet name. One word. And it had the power to make their whole circulatory system to go wild.

The hero cleared their throat, sniffled. “It’s my job to protect the citizens. Villains epitomise danger.”

“That’s not an explanation for your overt loyalty, is it?”

Indeed, it wasn’t. And yet, the hero knew it to be true. They shouldn’t have been loyal to a villain but they were. No one else had captivated them like the villain had.

Sometimes they caught their own eyes fasten on their enemy. When the villain had touched them — skin on skin — for the first time ever, the hero had lurched away, too startled and too flustered to say or do anything.

It wasn’t heroic, not even in the lowest meaning of the word.

“I wouldn’t call it loyalty,” the hero remarked. “My interest is a professional one, of course.”

“Of course,” the villain echoed, purring the words into their enemy’s ear sweetly. “But you have to admit, it’s kinda slutty to walk around in that outfit.”

Unconsciously, the hero’s eyes widened. They could hear the blood rushing in their ears.

“Which is odd…considering I’m the only one you’re fighting.” The villain’s fingers trailed down the hero’s throat, over their windpipe, with only the slightest pressure. It was almost pleasurable.

“I don’t understand those implications.”

“Puppy,” the villain said, tutting, making the hero shudder with excitement. “If you think it’s funny to walk around like this, fine by me. But don’t pretend I’m not the reason why you wear this.”

The villain grabbed their jaw, squeezing the bone and flesh between their fingers. It was so wrong to be turned on by this but the hero unfortunately was losing their mind to it.

Even though they wanted to moan and give up their body to the villain, they couldn’t help but hold onto that last fraction they had left of their dignity.

“What are we gonna do about that?” the hero asked. They stared at their enemy, noses almost touching. The pressure on their jaw ebbed and to their big surprise, before the hero could even say anything, the villain kissed them.

It wasn’t rough, all teeth and no love. Maybe that would’ve been easier but instead the innocence of it all overwhelmed the hero. It extricated the mess in their brain and left them with only one thing. Desire.

When the villain pulled away, the hero whimpered a weak more and considered begging their enemy to touch them. They’d never begged before. Hell, they felt weak for the first time in their life and they liked it.

“This is quite satisfactory,” the villain whispered. “I love seeing you all helpless. I love how you try to hide what’s going on between your legs.”

Their gaze dropped to exactly that place and the hero was sure the blush covered their whole body.

“I can give you what you want,” the villain promised. “But I need a few answers first.”

They let the hero squirm for two more hours before they touched them again.

[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.

[omo-my-gosh]

someone holding it on a bus or train, telling themselves over and over if they can just make it to the station they can use the public toilets.... but then when the bus/train does pull in to the station, they realize that if there's no way they can stand up and walk to the bathroom without wetting

[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.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

You have to go see your professional athlete husband play in the championship game: only problem is you're 42 weeks pregnant. You've been having contractions all day, but you tell yourself they're just Braxton Hicks, and you can go to the hospital after the game and have the baby. But once the game starts you can't ignore the urge to push any longer...

Great prompt! Exactly what I was in the mood to write this evening, ty! Hope you like it (fyi written in an hour and very much not edited or checked or read-through lol)

Half-Time Full-Time Baby-Time

Despite being overdue, suffering practice contractions all day, and having a baby nestled deep in my pelvis - I was not going to miss the big game. I’d never missed any of my husband’s matches and I wasn’t going to start now.

Thankfully, as my hubby was a star player on the team I was watching the game from the Executive Box. My parents were supposed to have joined me but they couldn’t make it, so I was on my own in the luxury private suite that had a large window and a glass door overlooking all the action on the pitch below. Inside the room was a fancy dining table with chairs, a mini bar, and a few high stools beneath the tall bench table lining the window so people could sit and drink and eat while watching the game.

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to do any of those things. My tight and round belly and the pain flaring in my hips had me pacing around and around the room. Cupping the underside of my bump I breathed deeply through each rising wave.

“Hmmmmm… not now baby, please.” I whimpered.

The practice pains had gotten closer and closer together during the first half. I’d tried to ignore them, breathe through them and walk around to stop the braxton hicks, but they didn’t disappear. They only got worse. Just before the whistle blew at half time my waters broke and I was forced into the realisation this was no false alarm.

But it would be fine; labour took hours and hours and the game would be long finished before we would need to go to the hospital. That’s what I thought.

Midway through the second half I’m standing by the window, my hands clasping the high bench in a white-knuckle grip, my hips swaying side to side. My throat rattles as I release involuntary groans with the constant squeezing and tightening of my belly. The baby felt so damn low… my legs were in a wide stance and my belly hung down off my hips. I was glad to be wearing a lightweight summer dress with the amount I was sweating. I wanted to open the door, to let in a breeze, but I was scared to with the labouring sounds I was emitting. I didn’t want to attract attention and I did not want to go anywhere and miss the game. I would stay here until you were finished and then we would go to the hospital together.

Another contraction rolled across my belly and the pressure built and built towards boiling point. It felt like I was going to explode, to burst, that feeling of fullness paired with an urgency and pressure was becoming too much to handle. My legs started to tremble as I fought against my body’s instincts, a low rumbling roar slipping past my lips.

I leant forward over the tall tabletop, my arms folded on its surface and my head dropped against my arms. My legs were buckling, sinking lower into a squat. The pressure was building, the round and heavy bowling ball of a head was so low… I wanted to push— my body needed me to push—

“Noooo…. Oh god! Don’t- hoooo- don’t push. Just stay in there baby…. Wait for your daddy to f-finish the g-game—mnghhhhhh!!!”

There was no controlling it, the head was getting lower and pressing against my opening. My body was pushing and I couldn’t stop it. More amniotic fluid hit the floor as I pushed, my bare feet standing on the damp carpet.

In between uncontrollable pushes I glanced up desperately and looked at the timer hanging over the pitch. There was still 15minutes to go, plus injury time. Oh god, the baby was not going to last that long. It felt like it was already starting to crown.

With a trembling hand I feel under my dress between my thighs and nearly vomit when I feel the curved surface of the head pressing against my underwear.

“Oh baby, no… you can’t come out yet…”

But my body and mind are not in sync and a second later I’m back to uncontrollably pushing. I sink into a deep squat, my arms stretched high above my head as I cling onto and almost swing from the high rise table.

“Nnnmghhhhh!!!!” I grunt and low, bearing down into my bottom, running completely on instinct. The baby was slipping further and further out, my labia was stretched thin and the burning of a full crown made me howl.

At the same time one of the teams had scored and the stadium erupted with a frenzy of screams and cheers. The crowd’s jubilance was my own encouragement and I gasped a breath and pushed again, hard. My body was shaking head to toe, the burning… the fullness… the desperation for it all to stop… I had to get the baby out, and it had to come out right now. Giving it my all the head popped out dramatically into my underwear and I collapsed down onto all fours.

The game was nearly over and the baby was almost here. I scrambled to pull down my panties before the next contraction hit. I could hear the noises in the stadium, the crowd cheering and chanting, the final minutes being played. Meanwhile the baby was turning inside of me, the shoulders beginning to press and stretch me open once more. When the next contraction hit I submitted to it entirely, rocking forward and back with each push as my body worked hard to birth the babe. I roared and pushed with the final whistle of the match and raised up on my knees, my hands flying between my legs to catch my newborn baby.

“Oh my goodness… hi little one.” I sobbed as I brought the child up to my chest, wiping its face and blowing gently against their cheeks. The newborn gave a cough and started crying and relief and exhaustion took hold. That was when I noticed the crowd around the Exec Box was cheering. I crawled to the door, babe in arms, and awkwardly got back to standing.

Looking out across the pitch I could see my husband’s team had won, all the men jumping and hugging each other. I could spot my husband easily amongst the sea of coloured jerseys.

“That’s your daddy.” I said to the baby.

My husband looked up at the box, knowing where I’d be, and his jaw dropped when he saw me standing at the glass door, a newborn baby wailing in my arms.

[im-his-druidess]

Hope you like it! 😊💙

GIF by leatherfacefan-1974

#6 Fully Clothed Sex - Would be a pretty frequent occurrence actually. Would often find you puttering around the farm doing chores or whatnot and take you right then and there. Too needy and desperate to even bother taking off your clothes. He would just hike up your dress to reveal your cunt and your breasts and undo his pants just enough to get his cock out. Of course, he likes when you are fully naked because he loves seeing you completely bare, but any chance he gets to be inside you he will take it.

#10 Mutual Masturbation - I have this personal headcanon that he would be obsessed with touching and playing with your cunt. So he would love to watch you pleasure yourself or, on some occasions, pleasure you while you pleasure him, and it's definitely reserved for nights where you know no one will be banging on the door for some reason or another.

#11 Middle of the Night Sex - Another common occurrence. You will often wake up to Thomas either bullying his way inside you or pawing at your hips and grunting in your ear. Sometimes you might even wake up to him already inside you, happily having you warming his cock while he sleeps, and you are too exhausted to do anything about it. Then there are nights where he will shake you awake, make sure you are staring at him, before sliding into you.

#12 Morning Sex - His mornings are fairly busy because he likes to to do most of the brunt of his chores before the Texas heat gets to be too much, so morning sex is a rare treat. If anything he like to pull you down and frantically fuck your throat while grabbing your face like a basketball. Making strangled cooing sounds in the back of his throat the entire time before he comes deep down your throat.

#13 Quickies - Thomas is insatiable with you so quickies is something that he loves. If he needs a break from his chores? He's seeking you out. If he's frustrated by ruthless teasing from Hoyt? he's hunting you down. If he's giddy about something random? He's going to find you and fuck you until you are a limping mess.

And then I pick...

#14 Size Kink - Thomas absolutely has a size kink, from just randomly picking you up just to hear you squeal, from full on putting you in a mating press to watch the way your tiny cunt is being bullied by his thick cock. He loves to watch you struggle to take him, no matter how many times he fucks you, and he loves curling his much bigger body around you to fuck you deep and hard as you paw weakly at him. It secretly makes him feel like he can protect you from anything and that he can take care of you and it sends a rush straight to his head every single time.

[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~😍

[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