#lady pirate hook

[littlesistersti-backupandspam]

Do Ms. Villa and Mr. Polite have signatures?

Signatures

Quick compilarion of the recruiters signatures :)

[blackpoison66]

Lady Hock and Captain Hook

Art: 緑茶117

[llama-aesthetics]

Lady Pirate Hock 🏴‍☠️

"The sun shines brightly again today… Oh sun, your light is not what I need today. What I need is the beautiful light of the moon.”

Lady Hock is Captain Hook's second in command and the most popular among the lady Recruiters. She is suave and often flirts with all the guests. Many of her fellow Recruiters often swoon when she offers to escort them anywhere, which has made her even more popular then the male Recruiters.

While she is very charming and charismatic, she is childish at times, as she enjoys playing pranks and stealing the men's props. She is also protective of her female Recruiters, often retaliating against the men when they fight back.

“The sun’s light is dazzling, but dazzles me most right now… are all your beautiful smiles.”

[magniloquent-raven]

yo, respectfully, i don't understand why some of yall are so worried about jim and olu kissing other people?

we already got "see, we don't own each other" from lucius & pete in s1, the writers seem comfortable writing not-entirely-monogamous relationships. and like. they both clearly still have feelings for each other, i'm sure they'll be fine my dudes

[pirateswhore]

watching OUAT as it aired as a tween/young teen did something to my brain chemistry I'm pretty sure

[caravanlurker]

Hi I'm Lauren I'm new to this app, I'm just trying to make some friends. Can i be your friend?

Oh—sure! Cursory glance at your blog shows that we have a few interests in common. Who’re your top 3 Owl House characters?

[vivwritesfics]

Rock The Ship

Pirate Captain Norris has something very special in his possession. Until its stolen from him. He'd do anything to get it back, and I mean anything

Viv's AUgust Event

Warnings: smut, p in v, rough lando, public stuff, oral (male!receiving)

Captain Norris drained the tankard she placed in front if him. Oh, this was going to be so easy.

Rumoured swirled around the pirate captain. He had a girl at every port, more treasure than anybody could ever need. Stealing from him was going to be a peace of cake.

The barmaid placed another tankard of ale in front of him and he drained it in one go. She could see why the towns ladies of the night gathered around him. He was obviously attractive, and he could pay a pretty penny.

She placed another tankard down and he drained that one, too. All of his men were getting just as drunk as he was. They were no longer keeping an eye on him, instead groping at the eager women on their laps.

When she placed the final tankard of ale down, she stole the locket from his pocket, and disappeared out of the tavern.

She had it, she really had it! Shoving the locket into the pockets hidden between her skirts, she hurried through the empty streets, heading to the Inn.

But she didn't make it very far. A hand grabbed her, pushed her against the nearest wall. A gasp left her lips as her face was pressed into the cold stone of the nearest building. "Fuck," she groaned and tried to push away from the wall.

The hand held her in place. "You've got something that belongs to me," an unfamiliar voice said. His other hand touched her, felt over her skirts for the pocket.

She turned her head as much as she could and caught a glimpse of the man holding her against the wall. "Captain Norris," she smirked and pushed against him. "I think some of the ladies in the tavern will be more... appreciative of your company."

"Give me the locket."

"Make me."

He flipped her over, so that her back was pressed against the cold wall of the building. His eyes moved over her face, took in every feature. "You know, you're pretty," he said, hand coming up to squeeze her cheeks. "It's a shame you're so much trouble."

And then his hand moved down, fingers wrapping around her throat. He squeezed lightly, not enough to cut off her air. Just enough for her to enjoy it.

When he worked at unlacing her skirt, she realised his plan. She let him work, let her skirt fall to the floor, and then kicked it behind her. "Really, Captain Norris? That's your plan to get your locket back?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hooked a leg around his waist. "Shame you have no idea where it is," she whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek.

"I'll find it."

His mouth was against hers, pushing her back against the wall as his knee came between her legs. She shifted against it slightly, desperate for the friction his knee was providing. But she didn't moan, didn't make a noise as she stared into his eyes.

Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck as she pouted. "Are you going to take me back to your ship, Captain Norris? Or are you going to fuck me against this building?"

An involuntary groan left his lips. Lando tore off her shirt as his head fell forward, lips roaming over her neck. He kissed and sucked, leaving dark bruises that made her look like the town harlot.

But his hands were methodical as he felt over her bra, searching for any sign of the locket. "Where did you hide it?" He asked between kisses. "Do you even know what it is?"

Nodding, she pushed him away. With a little distance between them, her hands worked at unbuttoning his shirt, at opening his trousers and freeing his cock. Just keep him distracted, make him forget all about the locket.

She dropped to her knees, ignoring the burst of pain as she wrapped her lips around him and kissed his tip. It was such a pretty sight, a direct contrast to the grimey alley they were in.

"You know what's inside of my locket?" He asked, his voice shaking as she took all of him into her mouth. "Fuck," he released, his fingers pulling at his hair. "Shit, this is incredible."

Locket forgotten about, she thought as she sucked him off, worked her mouth around him. His hips moved slightly, but she held him still, pulling back to swirl her tongue around his tip. "Shit, I'm-"

She pulled her mouth away from him and wrapped her fingers around his base. Moving her hand up and down his length, she opened her mouth and worked him until he spilled onto her tongue.

Lando pulled her to her feet as she swallowed down all he had given her. "About that locket," he said and she rolled her eyes.

Her leg hooked back around her waist. "Just fuck me, Captain Norris," she said as her fingers danced cross his chest.

He mumbled something under his breath, something she didn't quite catch before he pushed into her.

His cock nestled between her spongy walls and he let out a breath, forehead against her shoulder. Fuck, he was big. She hadn't been prepared for the stretch that came with him. "Captain," she gasped and rolled her hips against him. "Fuck me, please."

He obeyed and pulled back. Her walls squeezed him, sucking him back in. He pistoned in and out of her, hips snapping as if they had a mind of their own.

She threw her head back, hitting the wall. "Shit," Lando grunted, reaching up to cradle the back of her head. If her head hurt, she was too lost in the feeling of his dick to notice.

"Holy fuck, I'm-"

It wasn't fair that he was this overstimulated. One hand left her head, came down to toy with her clit as he tried every trick in the book to stave off his own orgasm. But the way she was clenching around him, squeezing him as she got closer and closer, it was an impossible task.

When he came, he didn't stop. He kept moving, kept playing with her clit until she came around him. "Shit," he grunted as he pulled around. His hand moved from the back of her head, carefully left her to rest against the wall.

"Give me the locket," he said through gasps of breath as he readjusted his clothing.

She obeyed, fishing through her pocket for his locket. Holding her breath, she watched as he shoved it in his pocket and turned on his heel, leaving her there.

She was slow in getting dressed, silent as she fastened her skirt and did what she could with her torn shirt. She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out the real locket, the one with the map to her father's treasure inside. The decoy one Captain Norris had was a perfect replica.

This was too easy.

[arcticmist0324]

There was definitely a huge wave of fannish music, specifically “wizard rock” (called wrock) in the late 2000s and early 2010s. In 2014, there was a MASSIVE shock to the community as many prominent creators were accused of a number of abusive behaviors (towards both other fans and creators). It was a mess. I discuss it a bit more in the tags.

Hank Green (who is someone who was involved in this space and has a reputation for being a stand-up human and not a creep) even made a video in response. It’s still up on the Vlogbrothers YouTube channel. It’s titled “Sexual Abuse, Consent, and Culture.” He doesn’t delve into specifies, but it’s a good sense of the things being discussed at the time. (A lot of the creators who were accused were tied in with the Nerdfighter community).

Oh, and I remember this but I don’t think many other do, but there was also Hunger Games-themed music called Rockingjay. There was overlap with Wizard Rock (which might be a reason it didn’t really go anywhere because… well 2014 happened).

I'm meant to be writing so naturally my brain went into asking the real questions— why don't we have fandom music? We have all forms of expressive art, writing, drawing, editing. The more physical forms of art, sewing outfits, forging swords, acting, even audi narrating fics. So basically all art forms in order to further explore our blobros and yet— no music? Why is it? I am genuinely curious why songwriting and music-making is the one form of art that is not present in the daily fandom life? Yes there's music video edits, even people recreating music from shows on piano etc— but that's not what I mean, I mean honest to god making a real, proper, lyric and music and singing original song for your blobro. Why don't we have that?

[inu-mxki]

roronoa zoro x fem!reader / 18+ / praise + petnames

“c’mon, angel,” zoro mumbles against your collarbone, pulling the fabric of his shirt you’re wearing just enough to expose it, “jus’ a little somethin’. missed you like crazy.”

you’d finally earned a night off from lookout. getting some rest was the only thing on your agenda. tucking yourself into his side as he mindlessly drew circles against your hip sounded like heaven right now, but zoro had missed his little lady. he’d missed pressing your back to his chest, nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck as you slumbered beside him. god, if the rest of the crew knew what a fool he was for you, they’d never let him live it down.

but the one thing zoro missed the most, especially as the nights went on, was pressing his tongue against your folds, kitten licking soft, gentle circles against your sensitive bud until you’re bucking your hips to feel more friction. the thought makes his mind hazy. after all, zoro lived to devour you. he loved it just as much as receiving, if not more. your pleasure was his pleasure, tenfold, and right now all he wanted was to reward his hard working lady.

“‘ro, i’m so tired,” you mutter sleepily, trying to ignore the burning sensation below your abdomen, “i don’t think i have the energy.”

“i can wait baby,” he mumbles between kisses, scattering them across your neck, under your ear, down to your shoulder, “jus’ want to taste you, miss you so much. let me make you feel good, angel.”

and you knew he would. he was masterful. he took great care and pride in making you fall apart for him. it was enough to just see you like that. he can wait. your pleasure pretty much gets him off anyway.

“but ‘ro,” you say, opening your heavy, pretty eyes, “i can’t just let you do that.”

fucking hell. you’ll be the death of him. not this pirate life of his, you, and those big doe eyes looking at him with such adoration. looking at him like you want to please him, but your tired bones are just too much. selfless, that’s what you are. but zoro was a patient man when it came it you. he’d wait eons to have your pretty little mouth wrapped around him. he was happy to just serve you right now. his angel. his baby doll. his lifeline.

“don’t worry ‘bout me, baby girl,” he whispers, capturing your lips in a hot kiss as you whimper into his mouth lightly. you needed it. he knew that, and he was going to give it to you, “tomorrow, i’ll fuck you into this mattress, but right now, all i want is to make a mess of you. can i do that, pretty girl? can i make my angel come on my tongue?”

he pressed two fingers against your clothed core. you bucked your hips involuntarily, letting out a strangled sort of moan. you could feel the grin against your mouth, “is that a yes doll?” he asks gently, adding just a little more pressure to see you squirm, “need your words angel. tell me what you want.”

his eye was onyx. he’d pretty much caged you against the bed and his body, peppering kisses against your mouth, patiently waiting for your response. he’d respect it either way.

“p-please,” you strain against his lips, and he grips the sheet beneath you to steady himself, “make me feel good, ‘ro.”

“no need to be all polite about it, angel,” he worked his way down to your chest, leaving hot, wet kisses against your exposed skin, gently pushing up your shirt and hooking his fingers in your underwear, “all you gotta do is gimme a yes.”

“yes,” you breathe out, and he almost growls against your hip bone, sucking at the flesh there, “yes, yes.”

“i fucking love you,” he slurs, pulling down your underwear and immediately pushing your legs up and placing a open mouthed kiss to your bud, “my baby angel.”

“I love you,” you choke out, gripping onto the sheet. he places a few more sloppy kisses, before moving to kiss your inner thigh.

“jus’ relax, angel,” he rasps, looking up at you through a hooded eye, “gonna make you feel good, promise.”

i do not own one piece or anything associated with it

[socksracoon10]

The Banter of Thieves

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x F!Reader

Jack Sparrow was by no means your friend. He wasn't even an acquaintance. His mere presence irked you, caused you to vomit overboard and wipe the drool that dabbled your chin as you spat out the lovely painting your stomach decided to spew out. The entire Caribbean sea knew better than to mess with you; you were the jewel of the ocean, the only woman to have stood for so long on your feet without ever backing down. Once your crew was outnumbered by the British officers, but you bravely traversed the seas and implied that you had more guts than your opponents. Another instance was when you managed to have stolen an artifact aboard a merchant ship that costed you a good fortune. You were the talk of Tortuga for weeks on end - added to that were rounds of free rum with jealous ladies and ecstatic men surrounding your presence.

So it was of to no surprise that upon hearing your name being tossed around like a ball, Jack Sparrow would've felt a little bit of resentment. Well, not a little - it was a LOT. He was devastated, he was hurt. How could the people trample around singing your name when HE was the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow! THE Captain Jack Sparrow of THE Black Pearl! He couldn't handle it. He just couldn't sit there and watch you swinging your arms around with the other pirates, gleefully cheering on your success. Drink after drink, he noticed the amount of rum you were being passed. Some men forced a glass to you, and though you politely declined, he noticed the way you'd give in after the third persistent person chimed in with a 'please' and there the rum would go down. It would cascade down your neck, around your breasts and find itself sloshed on the ground; Jack hated it. He hated to see the sight of pure, good rum being wasted away like that. 

When you were passed out, slouched against a sturdy chair with the glass still in your hand, Jack had tip-toed to where you sat and stood over your sleeping form. You weren't a hideous creature; he'd seen much worse on his escapades. In his mind, he couldn't fathom to understand how a girl as beautiful and intelligent such as yourself could have the nerve to be a pirate and go against him? Him? Ugh, it made his blood curl at the thought. In any other circumstances, he would've tried to woo you or played some sort of game, but clearly those options were out the window. His eyes cast over to you once again, and he caught onto the tiny sliver of shimmering gold tucked away in your shirt against your bosom. Pursing his lips together, he grabbed a small dagger and carefully used the blade to hook onto the gold's chain; despite being a pirate, he still had SOME manners. Not all of them for a gentlemen, but at least enough so that he wouldn't have to be slapped by the rest of the women on Tortuga. Two was enough for him at the moment. Lifting the chain up into the air, his eyes flickered onto you for a brief moment; you stirred in your sleep, but not too much to indicate that you might be awake. He sighed in relief, holding the chain to the light as his eyes followed the path down to an intricately designed key. He narrowed his eyes at the design pattern, noticing a fresh emblem with the letters "C.D." inscribed. His eyes widened, bringing it closer to him. No, he couldn't believe it. How did she manage to find the key for The Cure of the Dead? Impossible! He pocketed the key, grabbing the glass of rum from her as she whined in her sleep. Chugging it down, he let out a hiss as the liquid flowed down his throat and marched out of the tavern with a new mission set on his mind.

"I'm going to cut off that dirty bastard's prying fingers," You growled, seated firmly in the cabin of your ship; when you had woken up after, you already knew what must've happened when the gold chain was missing and you cursed every God that existed in your mind to help you find Sparrow before he'd get his filthy, grubby hands on what you had desired. The Cure was no simple thing - no, it was not a simple little vial or a chest of wealth - it was much more. There was a certain ritual that was foretold in the legend; the one soul, after giving up four equal drops of blood, would be able to pursue the path of immortality and greatness. Your father had spent ages pillaging and tormenting anyone who proved to be an obstacle just to find the key. And now, under your possession - or well, was under your possession - you were extremely keen on protecting your father's legacy through the key, anxious to seek the glory in honor of your fearless father. At the present moment, that dream was starting to sink faster than a ship caught in a whirlpool thanks to the lovely Captain Jack Sparrow himself.

A few days had passed among the seas and your crew had slowly abandoned your ship, one by one. They knew it was going to be a very tiresome journey, but you should've known better that the slightest inconvenience would have them scuttling away back to their mummies. You cursed at them as they rowed away, swearing to enact your revenge one day if they ever dared to return to your captaincy. Your eyes shifted from them to the large island approaching your ship. You noticed another ship seated on the shore, some crewmen walking about the deck or on the sandy land. Assuming this was Jack's crew, you managed to park your vessel besides them and leaned over the deck to bellow,

"Oi! Is that Gibbs I see there?" 

The old man swiftly turned at the mention of his name, narrowing his eyes at you with a scowl.

"Aye it be, Captain (L/N)," He rolled his eyes, nudging Raggetti whose bulging eyes seemed to seep right through you. Grimacing at the sight of the skeleton-like man, you climbed down onto the beach shore and dug your hands in your pockets.

"Where is that scoundrel?" You snapped, marching forward as a hand rested on the hilt of your sword. Gibbs scoffed, 

"Bit of a strong word to use there, love," He paused for a moment, rubbing his nose before looking at you, "But if you must know, he went through the trees himself."

"Nobody else with him?" 

"Nobody else."

"Well, then, after I acquire what is rightfully man, you all will very much be welcome aboard my ship." You grinned, scanning Jack's crew.

"But we've already got ourself a captain," Raggetti scorned to which you quickly added,

"Not after I'm through with Jack, you won't."

You left the gaping faces behind as you marched into the leafy forest ahead of you. Stepping over a few roots, you noticed a distinct imprint on the mud just a few inches from where you stood; the fool must've slipped and fell on his own face. With a guttural groan, you pushed through and followed the signs among your surroundings, the very same that your father used to tell you. Remembering his tales comforted you immensely, and you wished he was here to see his little girl all grown up and ready to see the treasure he had wished for so long. He would be proud of her, he would've loved her. He would've... surely not expected to see Jack Sparrow stuck between the branches of a tree.

"Jack?" You cocked your head to the side, stepping around the tree to see his face. His features were all scrunched up as he tugged his body to the best of his ability against the branches.

"Those stupid roots!" He exclaimed in a muffled tone. He cried out in exasperation, continuing to tug himself as much as he could before shrieking, "Don't just stand there! Help me!"

You stepped forward, just about ready to push his face out but you caught yourself, hands still in the air as you raised an eyebrow, "Give me the key first, and then I shall help you."

Upon hearing your words, Jack huffed out in annoyance, "Darlin', I think there's something more important here than your stupid key. Help me, first."

"No," You hissed, "You give me the key, and then I'll help you." You extended your arm out, beckoning for him to hand over your prized possession. Jack glared at you, muttering some cursed under his breath; you could've sworn he had said "that insufferable wench" and you scowled at him.

"Listen, love... darling... sweetheart," He groaned between tugs, "If you help me, I swear I'll hand over the key to you."

"You swear? You swear on your ship?" You prodded, and unbeknownst to you, he crossed his fingers behind his back,

"Of course! Of course, my love! N-Now just g-get me out of this stupid mess!" He seethed. You rolled up your sleeves, and placed your palms against his face, beginning to apply pressure.

"Ow... ow, ow, ow, ow, that's my precious face! You're gonna mush my skull in!" Jack screamed, and your blood boiled at his ungratefulness, causing you to begin pushing harder. You tuned out his cries of pain, finally released him from the stockade-like tree, and watched him howl and roll around the dirt. You kicked the side of his body, extending your hand out again for the key. He groaned as he sat up, taking your hand to lift him off the ground.

"You idiot!" You hissed, swatting his hand away, "I want the key!"

Jack blinked a few times, biting the inside of his cheek, "And here I really thought you'd care for me."

Standing back up on his feet, he noticed the way your gaze never faltered on him. He gave a disgusted expression towards you, sauntering off towards the cave opening with a determined mission on his mind. He paused, looking back at you with your open hand for a brief moment, before instantly picking up his pace. Screaming in anger, you charged after him and hopped onto his back, tugging his locks of hair as he shrieked in pain.

"Ow! Ow! Off, off! Look, women aren't meant to pull on my hair unless we're laying in bed together!" Jack hollered.

"I'm a pirate, you oaf, I can do as I please!" You bellowed, tugging harder and steering him away from the cave opening's keyhole. He stumbled backward and stood still for a moment trying to process something in his head,

"You mean to tell me you're not a woman?" He asked in a genuine tone of voice, before gasping loudly, "You deceitful bastard! You mean to tell me you're a filthy bugger impersonating a female?"

"Are you stupid?" You snarled, completely flabbergasted by his words. Not only was he the most aggravating pirate you'd ever met, but currently while on his back, he was definitely the stupidest one you'd ever come across. Jack trudged forward, trying his best to ignore the sharp pain of his hair practically ripping off his scalp as he shoved the key into its designated home. You cried out in frustration, watching the cave slowly open to reveal the circular stage under the beam of light. Upon seeing the glory in front of you, your head poked around his hair and leaned forward, completely in awe of its beauty. 

"You know, you can get off me back now," Jack smirked, turning his head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of you. You shut your gaping mouth and hopped off him, dusting yourself of any of his filth as you walked past him. It was almost a dance in the way you blocked his path towards the light, your back facing him as your foot extended outwards and your body swayed.

"Don't be a child," Jack mumbled, stepping back and forth as he tried to find a way around you.

"Shut up, you don't even understand the value of this discovery. My father had spent ages-" You began before being cut off,

"Oh, the same old wishy-washy, swishy-swashy story. We know the legend, we know the journey (Y/N)," Jack yawned, "Your father was a thief for stealing that from Davy Jones."

"Thief? He was a pirate, if anyone's a thief you're the thief! You stole it from me when I was asleep!" You roared. Jack chuckled at your answer when you turned to face him,

"Pirate," He gestured to himself, with his eyebrows raising in the process, "It's part of the job description. And now you're a thief for wanting to steal what's mine... especially after the hell you just put me through," He moaned, rubbing his scalp, gently.

"It's mine." You hissed.

"No, it's mine," Jack stated, pointing to the circular stage.

"Mine."

"Nope, still mine, darlin'."

"You buffoon! It's mine! I get to be immortal, not you!"

"Eh, I've escaped death more times than you have, it's definitely mine, love."

"MINE!"

"Oi, don't raise your voice at me. My ears are a bit sensitive," Jack raised a finger, "Still mine, though."

"IT'S MINE, JACK!"

"Now you're just actin' like a child, be a lady... if you even are one," He raised an eyebrow with a suspicious look on his face. That was it, you couldn't take this banter any longer. You lunged forward, tackling him onto the stage as his head scraped against the rocky material. He groaned in pain as he thrashed around, rolling over you. Your elbows brazed against the ground under you and you hissed in pain before grabbing onto Jack's neck and dragging him under you.

As the fighting ensued, you both were completely oblivious to the drops of blood that seeped into the cracks beneath you. You tossed a punch at his jaw as he pulled your hair roughly. The opening of the wall behind you two was overshadowed by the insults that were thrown around with the occasional scream tossed into the mix. It wasn't until the light above you shifted towards the treasure chest meters away did the both of you stopped fighting; you lay on top of him, your head snapping towards the direction of the light as he did the same.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Jack asked, frowning.

"I-I don't know. I never really thought I'd get this far." You replied, trying to make out the sudden shift of the light. In an instant, Jack shoved you off him and bolted towards the chest. His fingers wriggled excitedly as he had a playful smirk on his face. He wrapped his hands around the edges of the chest and brought it open, only to find a small sheet of paper with instructions. That was a whole lot of build-up to nothing.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed your unconscious form slouched against a stone. He winced at the sight, carefully walking over to you. He must've shoved you too hard against the rocky stone when he flew to the chest. He glanced back down to the instructions in his hand, before looking back up to you. He took a deep sigh, realizing what he had to do.

When you had woken up, you found your head bandaged firmly. You lay on a small hammock as Gibbs stood before you.

"Aye, you aren't too much of a bad shape. It's a lucky thing Jack managed to bring you in like that." Gibbs smiled, his fingers brushing against your head. You rolled your eyes,

"Let me guess. He must've taken the treasure and run off, didn't he? He must have immortality and the greatest glory to ever exist." You seethed, crossing your arms.

"What? No. Lassie, he left you a little note before venturing off on his own to Tortuga. He's entrusted you to be Captain of the ship for the time being." Gibbs exclaimed, holding a note for you to see, "There's more to this whole shenanigan than just immortality. Apparently both your bloods were combined at the cave... meaning you both are one soul. He's gone off to search for more clues. In the meantime he wants you to rest. He seemed rather worried when we were fixing you up, and kept asking questions as to if you'd be alright or not."

Your mouth slightly parted at Gibbs' words, completely in disbelief. "He was probably making sure I was alright to ensure he'd get his share of the treasure."

"Oh, it was more than that, love," Gibbs winked at you, "I'm sure of it. I've never seen Jack like that around any other woman. Now, enough with me rambling, get your rest. You'll be having lots of more adventures with Jack Sparrow soon."

And with that, he left you with the note and you couldn't help but somehow feel your mind slowly consider Jack Sparrow as more than a thief, more than an acquaintance... and certainly more than a friend.

[knight-says-rollout]

Would you mind telling us about more disabled Cybertronians?

Oh boy would I

For this list let’s focus on physical disabilities, both because they’re the most commonly dismissed by the fandom and bc if we try to cover everything we’d be here all day (that can be another list, maybe, if y’all want)

This isn’t going to be comprehensive bc I’m tired but!! I will aim for a broad variety of examples nonetheless

Bumblebee - You all know him, you all love him. He’s the most obvious and most well known example of a disabled Cybertronian character.

In many iterations he is mute

Not by choice but because he lacks a voice box. Bee physically isn’t capable of speech and depending on the version has different tools to work around that. Sometimes he uses his radio to repurpose song and radio dialogue into speech, in cyberverse he also makes use of the internet for clips. In the aligned continuity (tfp and connected media) he speaks in binary, a very simplified form of language using beeps and buzzes, but still lacks a real voice and can’t form words.

In IDW he has a cane

At one point in the comics Bumblebee was shot by a human protester and as a result used a cane for a good bit of time. I haven’t had the chance to read that far into IDW yet so I’m not sure how long he had the cane for but it was enough time that it’s a solidified part of the charcaters history. I’ve seen little models of the cane for sale, to be paired with bee figures.

TFP Ultra Magnus - everyone’s favorite awkward commander, despite his popularity he’s surprisingly overlooked when it comes to this discussion

An amputee, he lost his hand

During an energon raid with wheeljack, magnus’ hand was crushed. Ratchet couldn’t save it and had to amputate, replacing it with a hooked prosthetic. I call it a prosthetic rather than replacement part because despite him being able to move it, it’s not a hand. Not in the way he had previously, and he has to relearn how to use it at all.

I think that’s an important distinction to make when discussing disability and transformers. Some bots might have only ever had one hand, or no legs, or etc but that’s always been their level of ability and since they Are robotic. Yeah they might not have the same capabilities as another bot but that’s a hard metric to go by. Seekers can fly but a grounder isn’t disabled because they can’t fly too, it’s a different standard.

WFC Shamble - far lesser known than Magnus, and reasonably so, this background character is Also missing a limb

Amputee, leg edition

His prosthetic is a lot less fancy than magnus’s, it’s a simple peg leg. Put em together and you get a pirate. Not much to say about him since i don’t know how he lost the leg, just that he did.

Shadow Striker - Most awesome lady in cyberverse. Unlike the above two, she Was able to get actual replacement parts rather than prosthetics. Despite this, she is both shown throughout the show and implied to have

Impaired mobility

Chronic pain

She was able to get replacement parts yes but they were needed because she was blown up. The limbs she was given were kinda just what the others could Find and as such are mismatched and don’t fit her very well. Her motor skills took a blow especially when it comes to combat, something she used to excel in. Her new limbs are described as unstable and prone to malfunction. The loss of mobility and implied chronic pain that come along with her situation are rough, but she makes do.

SG Soundwave - my favorite little guy, he’s in a bit of a different situation than the previous.

Bad Joints ™

His body was entirely overhauled multiple times, successfully, but the latest frame change was done with conflicting metals. Earth and Cybertronian materials clash in his joints, making them prone to getting stopped up. The most affected hinge being the one on the door to his tape deck. It is so prone to getting stuck that his cassettes refuse to dock with him at risk of getting trapped. To work around this, Soundwave has the aid of a personalized case he carries around that they dock in instead.

IDW Sunstreaker - speaking of assistive devices, this guy was (for a time) a wheelchair user! Or,, hoverchair.

Temporary,,, paraplegic? Correct me if another term fits better

Taking this moment for an aside to say hey!! Lookit that, both canes and hoverchairs are things that canonically and casually exist on cybertron!! It’s not too wild to assume there are bots out there who use them long term!! Yes both characters on this list were repaired eventually but they’re also both very popular old characters from an action based franchise and hasbro doesn’t have the balls to make something like that permanent yet. We the fandom are not hasbro. We can do whatever we damn want with our OCs. It’s canon that ur little guy can use mobility aids.

Ok, PSA over, anyway yeah Sunny’s body was basically wrecked and alpha trion was able to repair all of him except his legs. This put him in a hoverchair for a good amount of time.

Finback - he’s a con, a pirate, who developed a “metal wasting disease”

He’s on permanent life support

The disease is going to kill him eventually, and it’s explicitly stated that he’s come to terms with the idea of his death. In the meantime he’s using pretender tech, kinda like fancy armor, to reinforce himself and boost his immune system

Perceptor - for a microscope, the fact he’s got vision issues in multiple continuities is kinda ironic

He’s fully blind in cyberverse

He lost an eye in IDW

Between the two we get to see both routes taken to work with this. Adaption and technological aid. In cyberverse he uses his scope to compensate for the loss of vision Toph-style. In IDW he built himself a monocle that basically replaces the pieces that are missing.

Now we get into the uniquely Cybertronian disabilities, one’s that don’t quite translate to human conditions

Transmutate - is a beloved bot from beast wars

They can’t transform, they don’t have an alt mode

I’m hazy on the details of their character but afaik they came from a damaged stasis pod. Described as deformed and handicapped for their both their lack of an alt mode and general appearance, they are probably the oldest explicitly disabled Cybertronian character

Xaaron - from G1 is in a similar situation

He can’t transform, it would kill him

Unlike transmutate he does have an alt mode, a tank, but after thousands of years without transforming he is no longer able to. The new stress it would cause on his body would kill him.

Broadside - continuing with the subject of alt modes, this clumsy boy is a boat! That’s not a good thing.

He’s very prone to motion sickness

As you can imagine, chronic sea sickness isn’t the most helpful thing when you are the boat. This brings in the entirely new element of mobility issues that are inherent to alt modes. A bot that functions fine in root form might not in alt mode and vice versa.

Trailbreaker - is another instance of this. He’s not a fast car by any means but that doesn’t stop the fact

His frame has a very high energon cost

Possibly the least fuel efficient autobot, he’s got an outlier ability on top of it all that only further increases his required energon intake. He needs to pay more attention to his energon levels and refuel more often overall.

G1 Knockout - yes that’s right the shiny medic himself is on this list, though not for the same reason as his tfp version, g1 knockout still lives up to his name

He’s prone to fainting

A knockout in the more literal sense, he faints when he gets too excited. Fully collapses and everything. Since he’s a fall risk, his teammates take care to keep an eye on him.

Annnnd Yknow he probably should’ve been earlier in the list along with the “human-ish” issues but I’m tired, it’s late, and I’m bringing this list to a close

Im sure there are more characters that I didn’t mention but I hope this helped! Thank you for the ask

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The Ren Faire Situation 

A birth story written in conjunction with @allkindsofpreg

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“Are you 100% sure?” I asked, not hiding the concern in my voice.

You just smiled “I’ve made up my mind, I’m going.”

We had planned for the last few weeks to go to the local ren faire, where you were looking to get dressed up and enjoy the event, whilst taking what was likely to be the last chance to show off your pregnancy enhanced curves in public before the baby comes.

The problem was, the baby was coming… contractions had started this morning, and 3 hours on, they didn’t seem to want to stop.

So here you were, dressed up in your best pirate/wench outfit, pregnancy fuelled bosom looking magnificent, enhanced by the dress, cleavage spilling out of the top and leaving very little to the imagination, your bump – oddly smaller since your belly dropped a few days ago – still prominent behind the flowy fabric. A tie caught between the two, bright and causing the eye to immediately look at the area it highlights.

I’d always known you were a bit of an exhibitionist… hell, our baby was likely conceived when I was railing you on the balcony of a hotel with a crowd cheering you on from below – but I will admit, I kind of wanted you to myself when you gave birth.

But you wanted to make a spectacle of it. Have all those eyes looking at you. You know you could make it look like it was an accident – you could even make the news - “lady gives birth in public” has always been something that got your juices flowing. And here we are – contractions noticeable but not debilitating, and we’re about to walk out the house to walk half a mile down the road to the fair – and who knows what will happen from there.

“Are you ready, my lord?” you ask in a fake old world accent, pulling the skirt of your dress to the side with one hand and holding your stomach with the other, lowering into a polite curtsy. I take a moment to enjoy the birds eye view down your low lacy neckline before offering my arm and helping you to a standing position. In one fluid motion You’re upright and pressed against me, leaning down for a quick kiss.

“My god, you’re sexy,” I murmur against my lips, hands exploring your body beneath the elaborate folds of your gown.

“Mm, just wait ‘til you see me with a head crowning between my legs.” Even the thought makes you shudder with desire as you hike up the fabric to give me better access there.

I chuckle and slide my hand up your thigh, brushing over the fabric of your panties. “We may not make it to the fair if you keep this up,” I say, applying a bit more stimulation and causing you to gasp. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay.”

You know I’m wary about your intentions—and honestly, I make a compelling case—but you’re only going to have one first birthing experience and this is how you want to do it. “Don’t worry, baby, it’ll be fun.” I look doubtful as you display your best pout. “It’ll at least keep me distracted.” As if on cue, your stomach tightens, and in turn you make a point of keeping your stance and expression neutral, the only indication that anything’s happening a slight change in your breathing. “See? I can do this.”

“You can do anything,” I agree, removing my hand so that the hem of your dress falls back to the floor. “Guess we should get going then.”

You hook your arm around mine and, perhaps a bit too eagerly, glide out the door.

The walk to the event was a bit slow going, considering your size, but you make the most of it with seeing various turned heads, and the occasional honk and cheer from passing cars as they see your gravid form walking down the street. You had been doing curb walking for the last few weeks to try and get things moving, and automatically fell into that rhythm, up and down, up and down as one foot landed on the curb and another on the road next to it. The added jiggle factor of your breasts bouncing up and down helped with getting you noticed of course. Let’s just say that as we turned the corner into the site of the faire, you were very flustered – and it wasn’t just due to the exercise. We stopped twice on the way for a breather and to let a contraction build and pass, but thankfully we arrived without incident.

You feel another contraction build up while we’re waiting in line for tickets, but it’s easy to ignore amidst the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Everyone is in costume, many with even more on display than you, and, not to be outdone, You loosen your own tie a bit. I notice and cock an eyebrow at you as you give me a wink—perhaps later I’ll tie you up tighter or perhaps take it off altogether; the possibilities are endless and equally thrilling. We can’t keep our hands off each other and the booth attendant has to toss a piece of popcorn at us after a few gruff coughs to get our attention. She seems equal parts amused and irritated when you request two and a half tickets as you press your hands into the curves of your belly, showing it off.

Once inside, you make a beeline straight for the giant turkey legs, dashing off before I realise, surprisingly spritely for someone in your advanced state of pregnancy considering how much walking you had done already. I soon catch up to you as you join the back of the queue - the turkey legs being one of the most popular things in the area meaning the line was always big.

You were panting a little out of breath, but smiled back at me "You're too slow."

I circle my arms around you and pull you back into an embrace, kissing the top of your head as I feel your chest raising and falling in line with your heavy breathing. We both burst into a giggle as the line slowly starts to work its way down.

As we get to the front, the lady serving the food has a wide grin on her face as you approach.

"Hey there, what can I get you and the bump?"

Entirely straight faced, you respond "Bump? Oh this? I just REALLY like the turkey legs." You emphasised the size of your belly by rubbing your hands up and down it tracing the shape under your dress.

Her face was a picture, completely unsure what to do with herself. She was stammering and clueless what to do next, in worry that she was going to offend you, but the onset of another contraction soon put paid to your charade.

You couldn't do much else than wince and rub your belly, but used it as a convenient excuse to apologise to the lady behind the counter and explain that yes, you were indeed pregnant, and you would really like 2 turkey legs. And no… one was for me - you weren’t going to just pig out on them. The baby obviously didn't like you making fun of the poor lady and gave you a kick in punishment.

I was smirking through this entire exchange but we soon got our food serving, a couple of drinks and headed off to watch a band play. As we got to the showground area, one of the local attendants brought over a chair for you to sit down on, whilst I climbed onto the ground between your legs. We sat down and had a few minutes of relaxation until you started to huff and puff a little, hand rubbing your belly.

"Starting to get noticeable I presume?" I asked. You nodded, leaned forward as much as your belly would let you so you could speak in a whisper close to me and said that when we were in the queue for food it was the first contraction which had taken your breath away. You thought it was because you had just rushed to the queue, and the strenuous activity had been an influence… but right now you're sitting down, doing nothing… and yeah, it’s now very noticeable.

"We can always back out?" I asked… already knowing your answer.

"Not a chance. Did you see how much people are looking at me, looking at the bump? This is going to be EPIC!"

We stay listening to the band longer than expected—they’re quite good, and the baby seems to like it. There are little kicks and twists that seem to coincide with the beat and our amusement begins to attract attention. You’re more than happy to let the other people in the audience touch your belly to feel it too, and pretty soon we’ve got the whole crowd dancing along. With a firm grasp of your hand and waist, I twirl and dip you through several more contractions. Another one starts up just as a song ends and I pull you into me, managing to hide the grimace on your face.

Someone comes up when the upbeat tempo begins again and asks if the little one is still boogieing in there, and you turn to her with what you hope is a smile. Clearly something about your face is off, or maybe it’s my laboured breathing or the way you’re holding your stomach, but she asks if you’re okay as you wave her off.

“Just overdid it, I think. My back and feet are killing me!”

She hums in sympathy and recalls how difficult those last few weeks always are, how you just wish the baby would get here already.

You’re smiling in earnest as you say to her, “It definitely won’t be long now.”

We go to the sword fighting demonstration next, and the people in the front graciously offer us their seats when they see your bump hovering beside them at eye level. You give them a small curtsy that turns into a very ungraceful plop down onto the beach seat. “I’m just never going to get used to balancing with this thing,” you say by way of apology to the people on either side of you, pressing in the fabric of your dress around your stomach to emphasize its impressive size. “Won’t be a problem much longer, though,” you say, giving it an affectionate pat.

I’m chosen from the audience to participate—our entrance made a bit of a scene and did not go unnoticed by the actors—you whoop and holler as they pull me on the stage. They teach me a few moves and then “challenge” me for my affections, seeming to imply that the baby you’re carrying may or may not be mine, as you somehow wind up on the small platform right along with me. I do surprisingly well mimicking the moves showed to me earlier until finally I’m at a standoff. A contraction hits hard and fast and you double over with a surprised yelp and both of us on the stage turn to look at you—to cover up the slip, you make it part of the performance, like you had feigned a labour pain to fluster him, and shout, “Quick, my love, strike while he is distracted!” The actor takes the cue and allows me to land the final blow while the two of us share a passionate kiss (which earns us a fair few whistles and applause from the crowd) before taking a bow (admittedly, you didn’t bend too low) and running off before anyone can question whether you’re really that good of an actor.

The public escapades up until this point and - after that last contraction - knowing it won’t be long until the big finale has you all hot and bothered as you pull me into what you hope is a vacant tent. You wrap a leg around me waist, your hands toying with the ties of my costume. “Got time for a little more swordplay?”

As we slip into the tent we’re giddy, giggling happily, but after a few furtive glances around to make sure we’re alone, we’re quickly getting serious and down to business. Kissing across your cleavage and up your neck has you shuddering in delight as I take a moment to lift your top over your head and expose your underwear clad body to the world. My hands explore your body as I strip you of the bra you were wearing along with tugging down your panties and leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. You’re standing there naked in front of me, glorious in your bountiful pregnant form, as you pull me close and tug down my trousers, bunching them at my feet.

My “sword” is well and truly on display as you’re licking your lips in delight as you manage to find a position you can support your body whilst leaning back against a table, opening your legs in accommodation.

My first thrust was strong, and made you yelp with the unexpected force. One of my hands grasped your hair and pulled your head back exposing your neck further to my kisses as you moaned in delight with my thrusts now slowing to a much more relaxed tempo.

You couldn’t hold that position long with the weight of the baby positioned as it was so you eventually turned and braced yourself against the table with your hands, presenting your ass to me. My knees slid between your legs and pressed lightly to the side, parting your own legs, you bobbed down into a bit of a squat to give even more access.

We scrabbled around in this position for a few thrusts into your waiting pussy but because you were quite low down it was a strain for me to keep thrusting up whilst getting the angle I needed to.

With a quick slap on your behind - resulting in the most magical squeal I’d ever heard - I pulled up a chair and sat on it as you finally lowered yourself on me - giving me free reign to enjoy your breasts and belly as you bounced.

Our groans joined each other as your approaching climax caused you to speed up your actions, my own cum releasing deep into you in a flood as I couldn’t hold back any longer. The resulting sensations tipped you over the edge as your orgasm caused you to yell out with pleasure, lost in the moment of bliss.

The sound you made must have alerted someone passing by as we heard footsteps approaching rapidly. Jumping we both looked at each other as you scampered off with an amazing high speed waddle out of the back door of the tent, as naked as the day you were born - completely oblivious to if there was anyone waiting on the other side.

I grabbed your dress and bra, pulling up my trousers but not fastening them to at least allow me to walk without tripping up. I join you outside to see that thankfully there’s no one there so I hand you over your dress and bra whilst fastening my trousers.

“I’ll need my panties too” you say “you’re dripping out of me down my leg” and that’s when we both realised that in the rush to leave I’d left them in a crumpled heap on the floor.

You shrugged “oh well guess someone will have a nice surprise… and I’ve got to deal with the leak” as you pull the top over your head - not bothering with the bra either, stuffing it tight down and pushing it into my pocket - and glance around the side of the tent in order to get back to the main show area.

We walked around and found somewhere opposite the tent we were at to check on what was happening but no one came out. They’d either dashed out before we got dressed and we missed them, they hadn’t spotted the thing we had left, or were left enjoying them - either way you seemed to be getting a thrill out of what had happened.

The next contraction took you by surprise through as you grasped onto me. I turned my head to see you visibly biting your lip to avoid letting out a scream. Suddenly there was a splash and a puddle formed between your legs. We both knew what that puddle was.

Without the cushion of an amniotic sac, the baby suddenly felt much lower, the contractions much more insistent, and the need to push much more urgent. The groan that emerged from your throat was guttural, instinctual, and you crouched down where you stood, clutching onto my forearms for support.

“Are you pushing?” I asked, slightly whiplashed between the thrills of having sex, nearly getting caught, and now this. “Already?”

You just gave me a squeeze in response, putting all your focus into breathing and controlling you volume until the contraction was over. With my help you stood back up and wrapped your arms around me, both of us still a little shaken.

Even though it came rapidly you were a little more prepared for the next one, able to maintain your standing position while your body worked to bring the baby down. You buried your head into my chest as we swayed together through the worst of it. We were hidden away, tucked in the narrow alley between tents, and any passersby would mistake it for a tender embrace. But we’d have to come out of here eventually if we wanted an audience.

There was a major show going on at the moment—something with jousting and fire and circus performers—and we made our way toward the back of the crowd. The skirt of your dress was large enough that it obscured the worst of your awkward, bow-legged waddle, but it was still a slow process. Your hand never left your belly, as if supporting it from the base would somehow relieve some of the force of the pressure bearing down within it.

Most people’s attention was on the performers, but we did garner a few nervous glances as those closest to us saw your restless shifting form and heard your grunts.

“Are you alright?” asked one of them, who was wearing a ridiculous feathered cap and carrying some sort of wooden instrument, eventually whispered when you were bent over and gasping after a particularly brutal contraction.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and a strained, “Fine.” They glanced to me for confirmation; I shrugged, but couldn’t quite hide my growing anxiety.

The concerned bard remained undecided, but kept an eye on you, and when you dropped to your knees a few contractions later, determined that it warranted a trip to the medical tent. The bard tried to help you back to your feet, but you had decided that you weren’t going anywhere. You screamed when they tried to lift you, loud enough to stop the production mid-charge, and all eyes in the large stadium turned to gape at you. “I’m- I’m having a baby!” you yell, for the sake of anyone not close enough to see what was happening.

The elaborate ties of your dress were already loosened and askew from our previous activities, so it was easy enough to subtly work the laces and slide the fabric from your upper body. It looked like an accident when the heavy textiles fell dramatically around your kneeling form, exposing your full, heavy breasts and huge belly. I knelt beside you, as if making moves to preserve your modesty, but you lurched forward suddenly onto your hands, the dress falling down your thighs and exposing the rest of you.

The restricting fabric prevented your knees from widening as they needed to, and you begged me to get it the rest of the way off you. I helped you crawl forward a step and as a result your legs were blissfully free, but this position hid the spectacle from your audience.

You grabbed for me and held as you got your feet under you, lowering into a deep squat with your breasts, belly, and pussy facing out toward the crowd. You moved my hands to your inner thighs, forcing them open wider and pulling open your dilated folds, and pushed.

The realisation of what just happened seemed to ripple through the crowd - the immediate people around us either recoiling in shock, or many grabbing their phones and hitting record.

As much as you were incredibly turned on by the attention you were getting, the force of the contraction making you to push out our baby was a significantly more pressing concern. You bellow out, completely uncaring who hears it “this hurts more than anything I’ve ever done… labouring all day… it’s just…” your voice was cut short as you simply howled in pain as your eyes closed and you bore down, desperate to move the blockage between your legs.

As the contraction began to fade and you started to regain your senses your head turned towards me, you had tears in your eyes. “Help me” you managed pitifully.

I managed to lean in close to you so my whispering voice could only be heard by you “how are you feeling? Is this just an act or does it hurt?”

“It fucking hurts…” your reply had tones of desperation in it. The next contraction was quick to pick up and you were soon pushing again, a bulge visible between your wide splayed legs suggesting the head was going to be very big.

“Here here now you poor baby, let’s see if we can help you” came a voice. I looked up, and you managed the same to see an older woman - 60s or older - pushing her way through the crowds and trying to force - unsuccessfully - to make those recording the spectacle on their phones stop and give you a little dignity.

She grunted with exertion as she kneeled down between your legs, her hands reaching down to the bulge, surprisingly chilly against your hot, distended skin. You shivered - I was trying to work out if it was through the ministrations of the lady who walked up touching your sensitive areas, or you had just orgasmed from the attention you were getting.

“I’ve pushed out 8 babies myself and caught 5 grand babies from my daughters” she offered “so these hands are good hands and know what to do.”

“What do I do?” you asked, echoing her words back to her.

She chuckled and gave me a wry smile. “In my experience—and from the looks of it, yours too—whatever your body tells you.”

“Oh god,” you groaned, the pressure bearing down between your hips insisting that you bear down with it. “I need to- I need—“

“Baby’s head’s right there, I think you’re safe to push whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m not ready! It wasn’t supposed to be like this; there’s so many—hnghhh, fuck—people!” Your words dissolved into moans as you yanked desperately against my flared knees, but all that did was pull taut your skin and emphasize just how small your opening was in comparison to the large head bulging behind it.

“That’s it, let it stretch,” the woman soothed, running her fingers along the edges of the modest crown. You pressed yourself into her touch and she hummed in recognition. “Nothing to be self-conscious of here, dear. Do whatever feels good for you; it’s all natural.”

You brought your fingers to your clit and rubbed a few quick circles before the stimulation became too much. You cradled your belly as you pushed, but your hands soon wandered to your breasts, your nipples, and the resulting whines were a mix of pleasure and pain.

“It’s too big!” You wailed between pushes, looking to me in desperation. “It hurts. It’s burning, please, do something.”

I looked to the woman and she shrugged. “She’s the boss.”

I looked warily around at the many pairs of eyes fixed on us, but they faded into the background as soon as I wrapped my body around yours. You took one of my hands in yours and guided the other one between your legs as another shot of pain jolted out from your stomach, up your spine and through your hips. I thumbed gently at your sensitive nub and explored the changes in the folds that I knew so well.

“Help me stretch.” came your plea.

I dipped a finger under your stretched skin, gently tracing the cap of our baby’s head. Another contraction started and you pushed, my fingertips spreading you open even wider than the head. I pulled away quickly at your pained yelp, but it had helped—the head was staying put now, even between pushes.

“It’s stuck, it’s- I’m going to tear!”

“Oh no you don’t,” the woman said, getting her hands in the way between us, taking back up their work with the emerging head. She placed her palm flat against the exposed crown, applying a fairly firm pressure to keep it from coming out even as I continued to stretch painfully around it—prolonging the torture. “Pant. Pant, now,” she instructed.

“Please, I need to push, let me push!” you whined, unable to resist your body’s urges. You bore down again, but she just pressed in harder as you cried out as the two impossible pressures clashed right at the peak of your pain.

I had managed to get myself out of her way and resulted in getting directly behind you. You shoved your hips back, desperate to retreat from her iron grip, and your ass rubbed against my hard cock. You hear me whisper a string of curses and ground harder against my hips—if you had to suffer on the precipice of release, so would I.

You shuddered and relaxed a bit as the contraction waned, and the woman likewise relaxed her grip against you. There were a few gasps as she pulled her hand away and the crowd got an unobstructed view of the massive crowning head.

The view of a couple of flashes from people’s cameras were ingrained in your mind as you sit there, panting, the few moments of respite between contractions giving you little time to pant through and get some energy back before you needed to push again.

You leaned back against me, rubbing my engorged cock between your body and the fabric of my jeans. I let out a little groan as I felt myself approach my own little precipice.

The next contraction ramped up though and more of the same happened again - the desperate need to do nothing else but push, and this random stranger lady pressing back against all your effort.

You lost it as the frustration toppled you, all focus on the pain radiating between your belly and your legs, and this woman who was actively trying to make it harder for you.

“Let me push!” You screamed between gasps of the contraction as she just tutted at you.

“Don’t be a baby dearie” she took it in her stride. “I’ll let you stretch nice and slow so you don’t tear. You have a big one here.”

“Please!” You gasped, “Please… I’ll tear, I just need it out and you’re stopping me.” The last word was a chilling wail.

Despite your obvious discomfort my own sordid desires were being tweaked simply by the amount of effort you were putting in. Your body pressed back into me as you undertook push after push, my cock getting rubbed more and more.

I felt myself release as you wailed out. My cock pulsing and throbbing as each squirt filled my underwear. I felt it run down my leg. I pulled you in close grabbing your hands and crossing them over your chest pulling you tight against me as I hoped that there was no evidence of the leak on my trousers with all the cameras trained on us right now.

My shiver wasn’t missed by you as you look up in my eyes, meeting me with a weary but loving grin, for a few moments you smiled until the smile was replaced by a scowl as once more it was time to push.

Your body twisted and trembled as the war against instinct continued. Your hands grasped at nothing as you sought an outlet for the pent up energy you couldn’t focus into your core—your fingers clawed at my hair, the grass, the fabric of your discarded dress, the tight skin of your stomach.

“Fuck this hurts,” you huffed, more for me than for the onlookers. Then, louder, “Another contraction, already?”

You reached a shaking, tentative hand between your legs, brushing the woman’s aside and winced as your fingers grazed the tender flesh. It bowed and flexed with the force of the contraction alone and you whimpered as your lips peeled slowly back around the widest part of the head.

“Alright, now we’ve got ‘em right where we want ‘em. Give it all you’ve got, honey!” I almost hissed the words trying to keep it quiet enough that only you could hear.

In your opinion, sweeter words had never been spoken and wasted no time putting your chin to your chest and giving a hard shove. In a cruel twist of fate, the baby now seemed content to stay right where it was. You tried again, pushing harder this time, and howled in frustration when it didn’t budge.

“Come on now, girl, push!” came the woman, I had echoed something similar.

“I’m trying, it’s- fuck, it’s really stuck!”

After another two contractions of stalled progress, she finally believed me. “How about we get you on your feet,” she suggested. “Come on now, help her up,” she prompted, but I froze, keeping you tight against me.

“My- I can’t,” I whispered frantically in your ear, and you nodded— you understood.

You waited for the next contraction, took a deep breath, and leaned forward putting everything into the push, making an effort to make sure that the lady’s hands wouldn’t get in the way of this push. Your hips lifted just enough so they were hovering on top of my crotch and you screamed, all the anxious and excited attention fuelling another mighty push as the head shot out the rest of the way with an impressive gush of fluids… which sprayed across the entire front of my trousers, concealing and blending with any other stains that might have been present.

“Fuck,” you gasped, both in surprise and relief, as you got the rest of the way to your feet. Then an agonized, “Fuck!” as the baby spun and the shoulders settled quickly and violently into place against your tortured hole. You bent my knees and braced your palms against your thighs as you started to push again.

The lady beckoned me forward and I dashed around from behind you to kneel in front, hands poised in place just under the dangling head of our baby.

Now at eye level with your pussy, I watched as the shoulders bulged and gravity threatened to pull the heavy child the rest of the way out. “What should I do?” I asked the old woman, though my eyes never left you.

“Catch!” she said with a laugh, and I raised your hands just in time for the baby to slide into my grasp.

Your yell of triumph was magical as the vernix-covered baby slid into my hands, the lady, unexpectedly diving forward to catch you under the arms as you sagged, threatening to collapse with the effort. You were gasping, panting for air, you were shell shocked, but one thing was clear – you had realised you had done it. My god you were grinning.

The lady helped lower you to the ground as I held on for dear life to our baby – a daughter – my eyes weirdly focused on the umbilical cord connecting the small bundle in my hands to your gaped opening.

“Shit” was all I could mutter.

“Shit, indeed” you echoed.

You realised a blanket was suddenly placed over your shoulders as paramedics arrived, covering you up from the gawping onlookers. You’d done it. You had your dream. You’d given birth in front of a crowd. No doubt Youtube and who knows what other sites will be flooded with footage of this tomorrow. At least we know we will have a record of our birth.

The baby was taken from me as her umbilical cord was cut, and she was checked over. I sat next to you in a daze as paramedics helped check you over.

You leaned in close to me as you kissed me and then got very close to my ear, whispering so no one else could hear. “We need to go one better next time. We live stream to the entire internet !”

[arcana-greenleaf]

Can I please request Garrett as a girl dad? 😭😭😭 Even as a vampire he'd be so gentle and loving! I'd love to see him with a human mate who happens to be a single mama.

First off, thank you so much for this request! :) I absolutely loved the idea of Garrett as a girl dad, and I had so much fun writing this. I decided to mix headcanons with full scenes to try and bring his relationship with Reader and Lily to life. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💖

Garrett had wandered into the small town looking for nothing in particular. He never stayed in one place too long, but something about this town felt... different.

He first saw you at the grocery store, struggling with a tired, fussy toddler on your hip while trying to pay for the groceries. Lily, barely four years old, was squirming in your arms, clearly unhappy about something. Garrett wasn’t one to intervene in human affairs, but when he heard the cashier’s rude tone, something inside him bristled. “Look, lady, if you don’t have enough-” You sighed, clearly exhausted and completely done with the cashier, and reached for your wallet with one hand while the other tried to keep Lily still. “I do. I just need a second.” Something in Garrett made him want to help. In a blur too fast for human eyes to catch, he stepped beside you and placed a crisp bill on the counter. “This should cover it.” You turned to him startled and confused as Lily blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. “Oh, no, you don’t have to!” “I insist,” Garrett said smoothly, flashing a charming smile. He turned to Lily and spoke in a gentle manner that surprised even him. “Besides, it looks like this little one deserves a treat after being so patient.” Lily studied him carefully, then, in a completely unexpected move, reached for his wild hair. “You look like a pirate!” Garrett chuckled. “Aye, that I do, lass.” You shook your head but smiled nonetheless. “Thank you. That was… kind of you.” Garrett tipped an imaginary hat. “Anytime.” And just like that, he was hooked.

You have been hesitant at first. A mysterious, handsome man appearing out of nowhere and taking an interest in you and your daughter? It sounded like the start of a fairy tale….or a horror story. But Garrett was patient. He didn’t push nor did he invade your space. He simply kept showing up wherever you guys went, always ready with a smile for Lily and a knowing look for you. One evening, he found you sitting on the porch, visibly exhausted, while Lily played in the yard. He took a seat as well and watched the little girl chase fireflies. “She likes you,” you admitted, almost begrudgingly. Garrett smirked. “What’s not to like?” You rolled your eyes at him. “She doesn’t warm up to people easily.” Garrett watched as Lily toddled over to him and held up a tiny hand. He extended his own, letting her place a glowing firefly in his palm. “Seems to me she’s got good instincts.” Lily beamed and gave him a toothy grin. “You can keep it!” Garrett smiled endearingly. "An honoured gift, princess." Your heart softened a little more.

Despite his wild, rebellious nature, Garrett is shockingly gentle with Lily. He makes sure to always speak softly to her, even when he’s passionate or frustrated about something else.

It starts as a joke, but Garrett becomes the designated client at Lily's hair salon. Lily loves his long hair and insists on playing with it, weaving it into messy braids and pigtails, and adorning it with colourful hair clips and flower crowns. At first, he pretended to hate it but it was really obvious that he loved it. He even begged you to teach him how to braid hair so he could do Lily’s hair as well.

(you are planning to buy Lily a kid's makeup set next, Garret would look really good with sparkly blue eyeshadow)

Garrett has fought in wars and challenged authority figures, but he will sit through an entire tea party wearing a ridiculous hat if it makes Lily happy. you secretly take pictures

He feels an overwhelming instinct to keep you safe. Whether it's shielding you from supernatural threats or simply ensuring Lily never crosses the street without holding his hand, he is hyper-aware of your safety.

Let's be real he has centuries of knowledge and firsthand historical experience, so bedtime stories with Garrett are next level. Lily gets to hear about the Revolutionary War in dramatic detail, but he always makes sure to tone it down to keep it child-friendly. Just you wait when she is old enough so he can help her with her History homework…

As a vampire, he doesn’t sleep, eat, or get tired, but he adjusts to human life. He learns how to cook even if he doesn’t eat the food. The food was inedible in his humble beginnings but with time he started getting better. He even started preparing Lily's lunch and is always trying to arrange it into some animal-looking thing with a little note. While cooking, Garrett wears a ‘kiss the cook’ apron only because you got it for him.....he huffs and puffs if you don't actually kiss him.

It happened on accident. Garrett had been in your lives for almost a year by now, seamlessly blending into your little world. Lily adored him, and you – well, you had stopped pretending you didn’t a long time ago. One night, Lily was half-asleep after the bedtime story when she reached for him instead of you. “Daddy,” she murmured, curling into his chest. Garrett froze. Time stopped. You were standing in the doorway, eyes wide and a hand over your mouth. Lily’s breathing evened out, already lost to sleep again, but Garrett felt something shift deep in his immortal cold heart. Later, when you met his gaze and whispered, “Are you okay?” he swallowed hard, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “I’ve never been better.” Garrett didn’t move for a long time. The sound of Lily’s sleepy voice echoing in his head felt like a shock to his system. Something shifted and clicked into place in a way he never knew was possible. Daddy. He had lived through centuries, fought wars, and roamed aimlessly through life without a single attachment. And yet here he was, with a tiny human trusting him enough to give him a title that carried more weight than anything he had ever known. He glanced up at you. You were still watching him with an unreadable expression, but your eyes were soft. Softer than he had ever seen them. Slowly, you stepped forward, kneeling beside the couch where he sat. “She already thinks of you that way,” you whispered. “I think… I think she has for a while.” Garrett carefully adjusted Lily in his arms, his fingers brushing through her soft curls. “And you?” You sucked in a breath but didn't look away. "You know how I feel." He did. He had known for weeks, maybe even months, but hearing it aloud, seeing it in your eyes – it was completely different. Garrett reached for your hand, his cool fingers tracing over your knuckles. “I’ve never had anything like this,” he admitted. “Not in all my years.” You finally gave him a small smile. “And?” He exhaled, brushing a kiss against Lily’s forehead. “And I never want to lose it.” You leaned in, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “You won’t.” For the first time in his existence, Garrett believed it.

Garrett never expected to find a home, much less a family. But in you and Lily, he found both. And for the first time in centuries, he wasn’t just a wanderer anymore. He was only yours.

[steamystrangerfics]

Okay. Here for my anon.

PANCAKES

Killian Jones x reader.

Tw: smut, like idk guys it’s literally the pancake scene continued. Oral (f receiving). Pet name : Killy (like idky that so cute to me I had to)

Not proofread. It was written in like 2 hours.

———————————————————

“Mmm,” Killian says softly as he walks up behind you, “something smells delicious”. He’s finishing getting dressed, buttoning up his dashing black vest that fits him all too well over his dark navy dress shirt. He had just gotten out of the shower so he smelled of honeysuckle and lemon, and his hair was still a bit damp.

You were at the stove making breakfast, pancakes to be exact, for your new fiancé. “It’s just from a box,” you giggle as you turn your neck to allow him for access to you. Killian places love bites along you neck while his hand and hook grace your hips. Killian starts to nibble on your earlobe as he whispers “I’m not talking about the pancakes.”

His mouth is exactly why you fell in love with him, how he spoke to you and how he kissed you. You turn from the pancakes and attached your lips to his in a sloppy, deep kiss. He wasted no time in parting your lips with his tongue and dominating your mouth with swirls of pleasure and passion. Your hands ran up along his neck and into his hair as his came down to where you needed them most of all.

“To hell with the pancakes,” you panted as your lips parted from his for a brief moment. Killian pulled your waist closer, needing you back closer to him. You gave into the filthy pirate you call your fiance and pressed yourself against him, pushing him back into the table. As he fell back, a devilish grin arose on his face. You locked lips once again and started unbuttoning Killian’s vest. Killian wasted no time in using his hook to tear your night shirt right off you, “you can’t keep doing that, soon I’ll have nothing to wear.” Killian loved using his hook when he was with you, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you inside. “Well, love, I’d be fine with that”. You both discarded the rest of your clothes but your undergarments in no time.

Killian’s hand roamed your breasts, taking time on each, as he started to lay you back onto the table. “No, Killian” you stopped him before your back met the table. He stopped everything he was doing and stared into your eyes for an answer. All you could do was smile, “I was still making you breakfast.” you said as you kissed his chest while standing, your hands roaming his body. “If you want to stop,” Killian was a gentleman, he wasn’t going to pry.

“No, Captain” you said deeply as you spun him around and threw him onto the table, “I just thought you’d still be hungry.” You climbed up on the table as you laid him down and straddled him.

“Bloody Hell”, Killian looked up at you from this position, at you offering yourself up to ride his face. “What have I done to deserve such a lady?” Killian placed his hand on your thigh and stroked his thumb slowly. “You believed in me, Killy. And you loved me.” You were now leaning down to kiss him once more. “Now, I want to see that mouth filthy, and hear those pretty sounds. Can you do that for me?” Your eyes darkened above Killian, he’s never seen this in you but he liked it.

Killian ripped your panties straight off with his hook as you lowered yourself on top of him. His mouth was already watering and eyes glistening. “You’re beautiful” Killian spoke as he laid a soft kiss on your inner thigh.

Killian took his time teasing you, kissing your thighs and toward your folds as your desire to have him rose. “I don’t even have to touch you, love, and your squirming,” he mumbled from underneath you. He slowly licked a strip along your folds and took in all of your juices leaking out. “Killian, Please”, you yelped at the pleasure as you pressed down onto his tongue trying to get some friction. You ran your hands through his soft brown hair, trying to hold still. His metallic hook came up press against your aching bud. The moan that escaped you was none like you’ve ever made before. Killian started making circular movements with his hook as he inserted his tongue into your firey folds. “Captain!” You cried out, and his eyes darted open to lock with yours. He watched your face as he lapped at your core, those pretty eyes rolling to the back of your head. He loved the things he could do to you. He replaced his tongue with two fingers, as you rocked above him. His rings felt cold within you as he hooked his fingers in just the right spot. Pumping in and out of you, and now using his tongue on your precious bud, you could feel you were reaching your limit.

“Killian-,” you moaned, unable to speak. He knew you were close, he went back to using his tongue in between your folds. Killian used his hooked arm to wrap around your waist and pull you down onto him. He wanted to taste every last drop of you.

The moans coming from Killian sent vibrations through your body and that was you undoing.

Your legs shook, your toes curled, your eyes fluttered, and Killian held you in place.

When you were finished catching you breath, you sat back onto Killian’s lap. You were taking in all that he was.”Killian,” you said sweetly as you reach up to kiss him, taking in your own sweet taste, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he states as he sits up to embrace you. You look down to notice the hard erection in Killian’s boxers.

“Why don’t we go get a shower and take care of this” you suggest, grazing your hand over the very large bulge.

“Aye,” he kisses your forehead, “looks like I’m not the only filthy pirate.” Killian winks and you two run off to the shower in each others arms.

[ageingfangirl2]

Do Not Disturb! Shanks (OPLA)

After a night of drinking, Shanks is annoyed and you are sent in to see what's wrong. You put your foot in your mouth and Shanks lets out his frustrations. Shanks x Reader (female) SMUT

Y/N

It was a hot day, and there was one benefit of being a female pirate, you could swap your trousers for a skirt. Your skirts were practical, resting just below your knees with a small slit on the side making movement easier in a fight. You put on your normal white blouse and a brown skirt to match your new brown boots. Living on a ship full of guys you didn't wear makeup, so you simply brushed your hair and put it up in. a ponytail so in the heat it didn't stick to your neck.

This was your second day docked on an island you couldn't remember the name of, your first day and night was a blur due to partying and drinking. Maybe today you could explore and do some shopping.

You walk onto the deck and shield your eyes from the sun. Most of the crew had already left but Benn was standing looking over some documents while smoking.

He looks over at you and smirks, 'looking pretty little lady. You heading off as well?'

Benn was a charmer and your smoking buddy, 'I'm going to grab some water first. Can you get me some smokes and I'll pay you later? You always get the good ones.'

Benn winks at you and goes to head off the ship, 'I'll always get you the good stuff, nothing is too good for my little lady.'

You go to head to the kitchen when you hear Benn call out, 'Can you check on the captain, his conquest left earlier and he's been silent.'

You roll your eyes at the request. Why did it always fall on you to check on Shanks? You were convinced before you joined the crew that most of the guys had seen each other naked so it shouldn't be a shock to them. A few times they sent you in when the hookup hadn't left yet because Shanks couldn't get mad at you. The girl who'd been all over him last night was a prostitute and not a high-class one at that from the way they dressed, but pirates weren't fussy. Before you turned in for the night you checked on Shanks who had called you jealous because he wasn't paying attention to you.

It was common knowledge amongst the crew that from time to time you and Shanks slept together, they even sent you in to calm him down. You might have also given Benn a blow job when drunk and you were out of cigarettes, but other than that you took care of your own needs and hooked up whenever you docked somewhere. There was no real title for you and Shanks, but you weren't jealous because you weren't together.

You knock on Shank's door and get no reply so put your hand on the handle, 'I'm coming in Shanks,' you call out.

The room was dark, the curtains still drawn only letting in a crack of light to illuminate the space. The bed was a mess and your eyes focus on Shanks who was butt naked leaning over his desk with his back to you, giving you a nice view of his ass.

'Captain, Benn wanted me to see if you were okay. You're alive so I'll go,' you say calmly, before turning to leave.

Shanks growls stopping you in your tracks, 'THAT BITCH STOLE FROM ME!'

You can't help but throw your head back and laugh, 'and you called me jealous. You need to get yourself better standards, wait until the guys hear about this, the great Shanks robbed by a cheap whore.'

Shanks's head snaps towards you and immediately you stop laughing and back up, but bump into the small sofa he had. Shanks stalks towards you, something dark behind his eyes, you were his prey.

'Then what does that make you?' he chuckles darkly.

Next thing you know he's spinning you around and pushing you over the arm of the sofa, your face hitting the worn leather leaving you back exposed. His hand pushes up your skirt and you squirm feeling the cold air on your backside.

'Oh shit!' you gasp, Shanks grabbing your ponytail and pulling your head up.

'I asked you a question, answer me,' he states, voice deep from sleep and alcohol.

You gulp, 'Err a girl in the wrong place at the wrong time captain.'

He grunts and releases your ponytail before his hand comes down swiftly on your cheeks making you scream because you weren't expecting this.

'You're funny,' one more smack, 'you're not a cheap whore, you're simply a whore,' another smack, 'at least a cheap whore gets paid,' a fourth smack, 'you're a whore for you captain.'

With each smack, you thrust against the sofa biting your lip. Shanks wasn't lying, his words didn't hurt you, they turned you on.

'then fuck away your problem captain, that's what I'm here for,' you say shakily, your breath catching a little.

Shanks pulls down your underwear and you shift to shed them completely, your clit pressed against the cold leather, 'Beautiful,' he whispers.

You moan loudly as he aligns himself, feeling his tip rubbing against your opening, 'fuck me, captain,' you beg, no shame in your voice.

There weren't many attractive guys on this island so you had to get your release somehow.

Without warning Shanks thrusts, and you take all of him inside you, walls clenching as your hips buck. Shanks grabs your ponytail again as he slams into you more forcefully than the last.

'The ships empty, I want to hear you, we both know you're quite vocal,' Shanks mocks.

'YES...OH FUCK...' you moan loudly, 'FILL ME UP CAPTAIN!'

Shanks continues to fuck you, his grunts mixing with your moans as the only other sound in the room was skin-on-skin contact. You'd hooked up enough times to know when both of you were close.

'CUM FOR ME!' Shanks commands.

You come undone around him, your eyes rolling back as you try to catch your breath. His thrusts become sloppier until he unloads inside you. He keeps his dick inside as you both come down together, if the heat outside didn't make you a sweaty mess, you were a sweaty mess now.

'Good girl,' Shanks coos as he pulls out.

You get back to your feet and pull your skirt back down which was now crumpled, when Benn saw you he'd know what happened. Shanks leans down and kisses your forehead, all the anger from earlier gone.

'Feeling better?' you ask, fixing your ponytail.

Shanks smirks, 'I am now. God, you're too good to me y/n, I guess I can't mope forever.'

TIMESKIP

SHANKS

It was evening when I saw y/n again, their skirt still wrinkled from our morning activity. They said they wanted to explore the town. Benn who was sat next to me on the deck bends down and picks something up before throwing it at them which they catch with ease.

'Thank you, Benn, how much do I owe?' y/n asks, eyeing the box of cigarettes in their hands.

Benn waves them off, 'This one is on me y/n.'

y/n blows him a kiss, before walking past me, they pause, 'I got something for you captain, I'll leave it in your quarters,' they whisper.

I enter my quarters later on and see two things on my desk. One of them was my stolen compass, and the other was a bag of money. I can't help but laugh at the fact that y/n also got me my money back. I didn't want to know what they did to get this back to me, but it was better to have them on your side.