#maternity wardrobe

[juliabush2450]

Pregnancy is a beautiful journey, and at momcozy, we believe in making it as comfortable as possible for expectant mothers. One of the essential products that can enhance your experience is the belly band for pregnancy.

Belly bands provide gentle support to your growing belly, alleviating discomfort and helping you maintain an active lifestyle. With momcozy's expertly designed belly bands, you can enjoy the freedom of movement while ensuring that you and your baby are comfortable.

These bands are not only functional but also stylish, allowing you to wear them under your clothes without any hassle. As your body changes, the belly band adapts to provide the support you need, making it an indispensable part of your maternity wardrobe.

Embrace the joy of pregnancy with confidence, knowing that momcozy is here to support you every step of the way!

[danielschneider4363]

Must-Have Maternity Products for New Moms

Are you a new mom or an expectant mother looking for the best maternity products? Look no further! The maternal and baby products industry has so much to offer, and one standout brand is momcozy.

When it comes to comfort and support during pregnancy and breastfeeding, the maternity bralette from momcozy is a game-changer. Designed with soft, breathable materials, it provides the perfect fit and support for your changing body.

Not only does this bralette offer amazing comfort, but it also features adjustable straps and a stylish design, making it a versatile addition to your maternity wardrobe. Whether you are lounging at home or heading out for a stroll, the momcozy maternity bralette will keep you feeling great.

Embrace your journey into motherhood with confidence and style, and don't forget to check out other fantastic maternal products from momcozy that cater to both moms and babies!

[shreeisspecial]

Elevating your maternity wardrobe with stylish and comfortable attire not only boosts your confidence but also allows you to embrace this beautiful phase of life with grace and flair. In this extensive guide, we'll delve into essential tips, current trends, and practical advice for curating a maternity wardrobe that reflects your unique sense of style while keeping you comfortable and chic throughout your pregnancy.

[meganbrooks8616]

Nursing Bras

In today's world, moms deserve the best when it comes to comfort and style, especially during their nursing journey. The maternal and baby products industry is thriving, with various brands leading the way in creating innovative and supportive nursing bras. These bras are designed to provide ultimate comfort while ensuring easy access for breastfeeding. With a variety of styles and sizes, nursing bras cater to every mother's needs, making them an essential addition to any nursing wardrobe. Embrace the joy of motherhood with the right support!

[ksuhi13]

um sorry, did the prompter leave so that we could have freedom of action or is this all also part of the doom of the narrative?

[w2sology]

Kids fic/dilf Harry plsss

big little boss, harry lewis.

summary: harry just can't seem to say no when it comes to his little girl, especially when she's taken his pestering and temper.

warnings: mentions of baby teething, not proofread!

notes: had to pull out the prompt list for this one 😭 anyways babygirl finally has a name thanks to the beautiful anon who recommended it :))

darcy had recently began teething and it was an absolute mare. you and harry were up later than usual trying to get her to sleep or soothing her pain, and nothing seemed to be working. one of the few things that did work was letting her lay skin to skin on harry's chest until she fell asleep.

however a problem with that was that darcy was a biter. as in anything remotely near her mouth would feel the consequences of her not-yet-there teeth.

harry was taking the brunt of it, his skin littered in little marks from when he'd hold her close to him and she'd just grab at whatever was closest to her. and in response, harry would yelp or cuss, hoping she was still in that phase where she didn't yet understand words enough to repeat them back.

with you on the other hand, darcy was much more gentle. she'd only give you a nibble here and there if your fingers were close to her mouth, somehow being able to sense that the look you were giving her wasn't one of approval.

also, unlike harry you actually utilised the teething toys that were gifted to you two at your baby shower, so darcy was pretty much preoccupied with chewing on something else other than you.

today was a pretty regular day for your small family; harry wasn't filming with the boys and you were still on maternity leave with no plans for the day. deciding to use it as a means to go for a big shop later on, you and harry made a start early on in the day.

"did you make her bottle or should i?" harry mumbled as his arms wrapped around your body, tucked in comfortably right behind you as you made yourself a cup of tea.

"that's alright, love, i already did it," smiling at this soft kisses he left along your neck and on your cheek. "is she up yet?"

harry nodded, telling you that darcy was having a bit of tummy time in the sitting room. and as you looked over, you couldn't help but laugh at the makeshift fort harry had made our of pillows to make sure nothing happened to darcy.

he allowed you to finish your tea, opting to get darcy dressed for the day.

"how the fuck does this go on?" harry mumbled to himself, fiddling with the button on darcy's blouse. he really didn't know why kids clothes had to be almost as complicated as adult clothes.

darcy babbled on to herself as harry slid on her socks, making random noises as harry entertained her too, pretending they were having a conversation of their own.

as he picked her up off of the bed, harry looked through his wardrobe in search of his own outfit for the day.

darcy's head lay on her dad's shoulder poking around at his skin before she stopped briefly.

next thing harry knew, her sharp gums were sinking into his bare shoulder.

"ow─── darc!" he groaned, mismatching her smile and refusal to release his shoulder.

maybe that was harry's fault for not wearing a shirt.

"i told you to wear a shirt around her," you couldn't hold in your laugh as you walked in, taking your daughter from her father's arms and wiping over the baby pink mark that she left on him.

"i didn't know she was gonna fucking bite me at every chance," harry huffed, kissing your lips before leaving to get changed himself.

"you," you said, tickling darcy's tummy and hearing her bright laugh. "need to stop biting your daddy."

it turns out you and harry didn't actually pick a place to shop at. usually you'd go to tesco, sometimes asda or costco. but since you didn't plan which of them to go to, harry ended up driving to tesco.

ever since you gave birth, he'd been offering to drive you around a lot more, slotting away from his preferred role of passenger princess. and you weren't complaining, not one bit.

so as you opened up the makeshift shopping list on your notes, harry sat darcy in the kids's seat of the trolley and began to push her.

shopping with harry usually consisted of him grabbing random things and claiming they were needed, whereas you were more organised and actually took note of what you did and didn't have at home.

now with a little one, it was like harry's role had been multiplied by two. whenever she could reach out for something, darcy would make a show of clinging onto it with her little hands until you and harry had no choice but to take it with you to the till.

as you picked out two boxes of cereal, harry was entertaining darcy, who seemed nothing short of unamused. she watched as her dad poked and prodded gently at her, waiting for a smile to decorate her face.

"what's gotten into you, hm?" he frowned, stroking her cheek with his finger, momentarily forgetting his daughter was teething.

"darc, you've gotta stop biting me," harry whimpered, pulling his finger away from her grip. he looked over at you with a frown, cradling his finger but you were to immersed in the food shoo to realise.

you continued to scroll through the aisles, harry and darcy following right behind you. every now and then you'd turn to harry, holding up and item and he'd either nod yes or shake his head no.

it went on like that for a few moments until darcy grew a little agitated with sitting still for too long. just harry's luck, you guys were near the baby aisle, so he took darcy down there in hopes of finding something to distract her for a little bit.

a small teething toy caught his eye, and actually made him let out a sigh of relief, as if darcy would be able to take it out on the toy now and not on him.

"here you go," he smiled, letting her hold on to it. he wasn't sure if you two would end up buying it or not, so he kept it in its packaging, hoping she'd find some entertainment in just looking at it.

and that she did; she was quiet for the rest of the shop aside from the occasional babble and giggle she let out.

now at the till, harry helped you unload the shopping, and it was then that you noticed the nee toy darcy had. "really, harry?" you held in a laugh.

"what?"

"she's got like ten of those already, and some are in her bag," you gestured to darcy's baby essential bag that you brought with you.

harry glanced down at the bag, then back at you, shrugging as he continued to unload the shopping. "one more won't hurt."

harry was such a girl dad, he couldn't ever bring himself to say no to her. quite like he was with you sometimes.

you rolled your eyes, attempting to take the toy away from darcy to place on the till with the rest of the stuff. "darcy, babe, i'm just going to pay for it," you laughed at her super strong grip, and the frown that replaced her smile, similar to how harry looked when he was moping about.

she shook her head, trying to hide the the toy close to her chest. she looked over at harry with those huge eyes of hers, expecting him to intervene.

and that he did. he let you unpack the small amount of items still in the trolley as he picked darcy out of it, kissing all over her face to distract her from the fact that the toy was no longer in her hands, but instead on the conveyor belt.

but darcy didn't seem to notice. instead, both her small hands were on either side of harry's face, squishing and poking as she smiled and babbled to him.

you didn't know how he did it, it was as if he was just meant to understand her better than you. you didn't mind though, it meant that harry was the one who got the end of darcy's little tantrums instead of you.

when it came to pay for the items, harry reached over and tapped his phone on the card machine, ignoring the glare you were giving him as you collected the receipt.

"you thought you almost got away with it," he laughed, knowing that no matter what, he'd always pay if you were with him.

he helped you but the bags back in the trolley, darcy safely in his hold as you walked back to the car.

when she was buckled in, harry handed her the toy that she surely forgot all about, kissing her forehead. "now you can stop biting me," he smiled, going back to the driver's side.

you smiled at your daughter through the mirror, matching that smile to harry's when he put his seatbelt on.

"why're you looking all soppy, then?"

"nothing," you rolled your eyes, smile still on your face. "just happy, is all."

[stevieschrodinger]

Link to Part Two

Part One

Eddie stares down at the plastic doodad. It proudly declares the word ‘pregnant’ on the little screen, cheerily oblivious to the fact that it's just ruined Eddie’s whole fucking life. It’s a word as well, the actual fucking word, ‘pregnant’ shown oh so confidently on the little screen. Eddie’s done a test before, one time when he had a scare as a teenager, that had been the sort that showed one line or two.

One lines for not, two for...are. Two would have looked like prison bars, which would have been ironic given being saddled with a pup is probably pretty equivalent to 25 to life.

Anyway. Eddie shakes it. Looks again. Throws the fucking thing in the bin.

Well fuck.

Eddie contemplates, very very briefly, getting rid of it. His mind and body recoil from that thought the same way it would from, like, rotted tuna. Or someone else's puke. Or like...salad.

Eddie’s Omega’s got a lot of needs and no Alpha willing to fill them. Eddie gets by, fobbing his Omega off with with a couple of short term friends with benefits arrangements and the odd one night stand. Mostly his Omega can’t tell the difference between having an Alpha and having any Alpha, so he makes do. It scratches the itch.

Unfortunately, that means this pup could have been fathered by any one of three dudes, and Eddie doesn’t have a fucking clue which of them it would be. Eddie would really rather not it be Alpha A, Alpha B is a piece of work with a big dick, and what's behind door number three would be potentially catastrophic.

Anyway. Eddie makes a decision at two am in his apartment bathroom, and it starts with two text messages, an email, and a phone call.

“Thanks for doing this so on the spur man,” Eddie tells his landlord as he hands over the keys. Ex landlord. It was only a room in a shared place. Had to share the bathroom on this floor with two other dudes, but, meh. It had been perfect for what Eddie needed, and more importantly, within Eddie’s budget.

His whole life is sitting in the back of his van, barely filling a third of the back. Which is ideal really, made clearing out quick and easy and Eddie’s uncertain about weather or not he should be doing any heavy lifting right now.

He makes three stop offs before he leaves for good, shifting the very last of his product at discount prices. He mournfully throws in his last two boxes of cigs with the last deal; going cold turkey is going to be the opposite of fun, but Eddie’s in it to win it, and he’s going to try his best as of right now.

Wayne already has the door open when Eddie hops out of his van, beer in hand, eyebrow raised, “heya old man.”

When Wayne sees Eddie dragging bags out, he lifts the brim of his cap, puts it back again, and heads inside. Eddie sees him move a couple of things out of Eddie’s old room, and although it’s empty and the bed is stripped to nothing, it’s untouched, “how long you back for?” Wayne asks him, offering a beer.

Eddie looks at the offered bottle, dripping condensation, and very pointedly doesn’t take it “so, about that.”

There’s a long drawn out moment, and Eddie’s sees the realization dawn, “oh Ed.”

“You like kids!”

Wayne sighs, pulls Eddie into a hug, “I just hope they sleep better’n you did. Don’t think I can go through that again.”

Eddie snorts a laugh into Wayne’s shoulder, all relieved. He hadn't doubted for a second that Wayne would back his play, Wayne's always been unshakably team Eddie, but to hear it said in no uncertain terms is still a huge weight lifted.

Eddie’s got a slightest curve of a bump, small enough that it’s not nearly noticeable yet, especially with Eddie’s usual wardrobe. To go along with his bump, he’s got a scan booked at the Omega Health place, an insatiable craving for garlic mushrooms, and a job.

An actual honest job. Alright, a temp job, because he’s pregnant and no one in their right mind is going to hire a pregnant Omega for a full time permanent gig. So he is, conveniently enough, covering maternity leave for a beta girl at the record store. But that doesn’t matter right now, the moons aligned, and Eddie jumped at the opportunity. He’s going to have a secure pay check for the next seven or so months, and right this second, that’s what counts.

He can’t drink. He can’t smoke. He can’t do drugs and he’s most certainly not going to party. Eddie does the next best thing he can think of; he goes to the library. This is his reward now, his fun, his safe space; he’s going to reward himself with a good book. A good free book.

Turns out registering himself for a library card is a ten minute thing, and then he’s done, bit of plastic in hand, he wonders the shelves looking for the fantasy section. He rounds the corner into the main room only to find a dude reading and signing along to a bunch of little kids. He has the book propped up on a thing to keep his hands free and the pages open so the kids can see.

He’s encouraging them to sign along with a bunch of the words.

He has good hair...like, really good hair. There’s something familiar about the guy that Eddie can't place...until he does.

Holy fucking shit. That’s King Steve.

And he’s in a library...wearing fucking gold rimmed spectacles and a sweater vest.

And he’s hot. He’s still hot. He laughs at something and leans forward to help a toddler with the placement of her chubby little fingers and Eddie’s ovaries fucking explode.

He walks away. For self preservation he walks away. He forgets what he just saw because there was no way it was real. He’s been going through a dry spell, hasn’t got laid since he moved back to Hawkins and now he’s seeing mirages of his high school crush, that’s all.

That’s all it can be.

Until Eddie goes to the fancy scanner machine to check out his little pile of four paperback fantasy books and a deep Alpha voice is asking if he needs anything and he’s, like, right there. And he smells of library and Alpha and whatever nice thing he washes his fucking sweater vests in.

Jesus.

“No,” Eddie squeaks, “I’m okay.”

“Eddie?” Steve frowns at him, tilting his read and looking over the top of his glasses in a way that should be fucking criminal, “Eddie Munson right? I thought you moved away?”

“I have. Did. I mean, I did do that. Previously. Back now. Clearly.” Shut up shut up shut up and Steve can probably smell his embarrassment because he’s standing closely enough to clearly scent Eddie and Steve’s senses must be absolutely pinpoint because his eyes drop to Eddie’s stomach, then spring up to his neck. He frowns, like, the tiniest bit.

Eddie’s pregnant, and unmated, and Steve’s clocked that in about four seconds flat which, great. Humiliation complete.

But Steve’s face clears as quick as it had clouded, the whole thing passing so fast Eddie’s now not even sure he saw it, “so it’d been cool to catch up, you wanna wait a minute, I’m just about to have lunch?”

“Errr…I mean. I wouldn't want to impose or anything-”

“Steve!” And holy shit, if Steve is the ghost of Christmas past or some shit, the second ghost just rocked up in the form of Robin fucking Buckley of all people. Eddie doesn't even understand why they’re even friends, Steve was a topnotch jock and a total fucking dickwad, and Buckley was a band nerd.

This makes less sense than Steve’s sweater vest.

“Yeah, come on Eddie, lets go sit outside,” Eddie gets tugged along in their wake, somehow, and ends up sitting on a bench outside in the sun.

Robin had a bag of take out in her hand which she gives to Steve, and he takes out a carton of something that instantly makes Eddie’s mouth water, Eddie looks back up in time to catch Steve widening his eyes at Robin, tilting his head off to the side sharply in silent gesture for her to fuck off over there. She signs something, real quick. Steve nods.

Eddie doesn’t know a single lick of sign language, but he's pretty sure that even if he did, what happened was so fast he would have missed it anyway, “so, Eddie, great to see you, but I, shit, pretty sure I’ve left the...stove on.”

Eddie frowns at the take out and back to Robin but before he can point out what a steaming pile of bullshit that is, she’s already power walking off and shouting, “byyyyeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

“I, ah, got garlic mushrooms and broccoli and some stirfry-”

It’s too late for Eddie. He’s done. Stick a fork in him. He has no idea what’s happening here but he zones in on the garlic mushroom part of that like a heat seeking missile. A secondary part of his brain is screaming loudly that the Alpha has provided, the Alpha wants to share his food with Eddie. Alpha Alpha Alpha.

Eddie takes the container and the bamboo spork thing Steve hands him, “sorry, I never get chopsticks, no fucking clue how to use them.”

“I can show you,” Eddie says, without thinking it through or registering the implication or stopping to swallow, which means he just spoke with his mouth full of food.

“I’d like that,” Steve tells him, “when can I take you out for dinner?”

Which, Eddie’s brain does stall out there. Because. Well. Lots of things. But he was pretty certain Steve had clocked his specific circumstances earlier, but now he’s not so sure, “I’m pupped,” his mouth supplies without his permission, so he shoves a whole thing of broccoli in there to try and stop it happening again.

Steve hums, eating his beef thing very neatly, “no bite though,” he points out, and Eddie makes an agreeable noise, “maybe we can fix that,” Eddie nearly chokes.

[bootsukki]

AITA for telling my pregnant wife she should start wearing maternity clothes?

aita series masterlist

warnings: body insecurities, fluff and pregnancy

So, my (29M) wife (29F) is currently 24 weeks pregnant with our first child. Lately, she’s been struggling to fit into her regular clothes because, well, her belly is growing. It's pretty obvious that her normal wardrobe isn’t cutting it anymore — her shirts barely cover her bump, and her pants are clearly way too tight.

This morning, I was watching her try to button her pants, and it was pretty clear she was uncomfortable. She was tugging at them, trying to get them to fit, and honestly, it looked painful. I casually suggested that maybe it’s time for her to start looking into maternity clothes because, you know, they’d be more comfortable for her growing body.

She immediately snapped at me, saying she wasn’t fat and she could still wear her regular clothes. I wasn’t implying she was fat at all — just that she’s pregnant, and her body is changing, so maybe she should wear something that fits better. I didn’t push it after that, but she left for work clearly upset.

AITA?

Tsukishima leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes following (Y/N) as she tried, once again, to fasten the button on her favorite pair of trousers. With a smirk, he grabbed his coffee cup and took a sip, waiting for her huffs of frustration. At 24 weeks pregnant, her belly had recently "popped," making it more obvious than ever that her body was changing faster than she could adjust, which made her extremely moody and angry. Still, she wasn’t ready to give up on her usual clothes, even though it was becoming painfully clear they were no longer accommodating her growing bump.

(Y/N) huffed in frustration, twisting her body to the side in an attempt to close the button. Tsukishima smiled at the sight of her and his voice broke through the quiet.

“Maybe it’s time to start buying maternity clothes.”

(Y/N) froze, turning to send him a sharp glare, frustration boiling over. “Excuse me?”

Tsukishima couldn’t help the smile on his face. The sight of his wife and her cute belly made his heart race, now looking more like a mother whenever she was angry.

“Your belly’s growing, you’re 24 weeks along… those clothes clearly aren’t fitting anymore.”

(Y/N) stared at him, completely annoyed. The way he said fueling her frustration. “I’m not fat, Kei. I can still wear my clothes. I don’t need any of that maternity stuff.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, smirking. “If you say so.”

That tone… That one that made it sound like he was teasing her only irritated her more. Spitting words under her breath, she tugged at the waistband again, trying to prove him wrong.

“This fits me perfectly fine,” she muttered, closing the button and zipper with… let’s say, some difficulties.

“I’ll drive you to work then.”

She nodded, storming out of the house, trying to ignore how tight her clothes were starting to feel.

*****

(Y/N) sat in her office, trying to focus on the set of slides in front of her. She needed to prepare the course material for the professor that was going to cover her during her maternity leave, but the growing discomfort around her hips and belly made it hard to concentrate. The pants were squeezing her waist in ways it was impossible to ignore and sitting in the office was not helping her at all. No matter how she adjusted her posture, nothing could help her, skin feeling raw from the waistband digging into her belly.

She placed a hand on top of it, sending a quick “sorry” to him: her little baby, when it finally happened. A small, sharp pop.

She froze, looking down at the sight of the waistband finally letting her belly breathe. The button had popped out of her pants and it was now on the floor. Panicking, she tried to reach it and sensing she wouldn’t be able to move without her pants possibly ripping, she tried to replace the button with something on her desk but not even clips made it possible.

Swallowing her pride, she grabbed her phone and hesitantly dialed Kei’s phone. He picked up almost instantly, tone casual. “Hello.”

(Y/N) felt completely embarrassed and she was nearly in the verge of tears. “The button popped.”

“What?”

“The button on my pants… It popped.”

Silence, then a quiet laugh. “Are you being serious?”

(Y/N) ran a hand through her hair. “Love, I can’t close my pants… Can you come help me?”

Another chuckle left his mouth. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

True to his word, Tsukishima arrived at her office not long after, leaning against the doorframe as she handed (Y/N) a jacket and a pair of his sweatpants. Not even looking at him in the eyes, (Y/N) closed the blinds and changed, leaving the university in silence, Tsukishima’s hand resting lightly on her back, massaging the lower part of it reassuringly.

Surprisingly, he didn’t make any comments during the ride but (Y/N) noticed that he was not taking the route home.

“No.”

“Yes, baby.” Tsukishima replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “You need new clothes.”

(Y/N) knew he was trying to help but she was embarrassed and insecure about this whole thing. Her belly growing that fast was something she had not expected and even though she was grateful for the little boy that was growing inside of her, she couldn’t help but mourn her old her. Her old clothes.

At the maternity store, she felt reluctant as she browse through the loose fabrics designed for people who, like her, had clearly outgrown their pre-pregnancy wardrobe. The clothes were cute and she couldn’t say anything wrong about them but she was still unsure about the whole thing.

Tsukishima followed quietly, carrying the items (Y/N) was willing to try on, watching her with a soft smile on his face. If he could tell his old 17-year-old self that he, at 29, was going to be buying maternity clothes for his best-friend-now-turned-wife, he would probably die of a stroke.

“I’m going to try these.”

“I’ll wait here.”

As soon as (Y/N) stepped into a changing room and tried on her first pair of maternity pants, the relief was instant. No squeezing or pinching like before. (Y/N) ran her hand over her bump, surprised at how light and comfortable she felt. It was like a weight had been lifted — not just physically, but emotionally too. She shook her head, embarrassed at her silly thoughts about her body and about how she snapped at her husband that same morning. She was growing a whole human, it was perfectly okay to outgrown her clothes and feel her body changing as days go by.

When (Y/N) stepped out of the dressing room, Tsukishima was waiting for her, leaning casually against the wall. His eyes immediately flickered to her stomach, then back up to her face. “How do they feel?” he asked, his voice calm but curious.

(Y/N) shifted in place, tugging at the stretchy waistband, looking at herself in the mirror. “They… actually feel really good,” she admitted, sounding almost surprised. “I didn’t realize how uncomfortable I was until now.”

Tsukishima nodded, his eyes still focused on her belly, expression softening. “That’s the point. You shouldn’t have to fight with your clothes every morning.”

She sighed, leaning against the mirror. “I guess I just didn’t want to admit that I needed them. Everything’s changing so fast, and I wasn’t... I'm not ready to let go of my old self. I'm already 24 weeks and this whole thing is speeding up and I'm not keeping up with all the changes..."

Tsukishima stepped closer, his gaze gentle as he reached out to touch her belly, his large hand resting on the curve. “You don’t have to let go of anything,” he said softly. “You’re still you, Y/N. Belly or no belly, maternity clothes or not. It doesn’t change who you are. You don't need to be insecure about this. I love you, doesn't matter what you do or how you feel. I love the Karasuno (Y/N) that had the best grades of all the class, the university (Y/N) who always came back to my apartment after being out with friends, letting me take off her make-up and make her food because she was really drunk, (Y/N) who wrote an amazing book, (Y/N) who makes me the happiest every single day and I’ll love the (Y/N) that takes care of our son and that will cherish him every single moment.”

Her heart swelled at his words and she pouted, hiding her face on his chest.

"How did you know that I was so down about this?"

"We've been together for 12 years. I know everything about you."

Tsukishima held (Y/N)'s hand, his fingers playing with her ring and she softly looked up at him. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier," she whispered. "I was being stubborn."

Tsukishima's thumb brushes lightly over her stomach. "I know. This is taking a toll on you and I understand. I was not trying to upset you, I just want the best for you and for him."

(Y/N) smiled, reaching up to cup his face, pullinghim down for a quick kiss. "Thank you. For being patient and for looking out for us. You're going to be the best dad, you know that, right?"

Tsukishima's arms wrapped around her, resting his chin on top of her head as he looked at themselves in the mirror. "They fit you nicely. If you want, we can get you a few more."

"That would be great." (Y/N) sighed. "Now that we are here, maybe we should look at baby clothes."

Tsukishima nodded, his hand still rubbing her stomach as (Y/N) leaned into his embrace, feeling at peace. The changes were undeniable but as she looked up at her husband, she knew that there was no one better to go through his changes than him. (Y/N) Tsukishima, Kei Tsukishima and baby Tsukishima were ready to embrace this next chapter of life together, as they had always have been.

“Hey, Kei. Do you think there’s Sendai Frogs onesies for our baby?”

“Shut up…”

*****

Edit:

Hey Reddit, it's been a while, like a year or so. I hadn't actually seen the comments under this post. Work was a lot and taking care of my wife during pregnancy was a big thing but, no complains about it.

I don’t usually post here anymore, but I felt like I owed this update to the people who helped me see things from a different perspective. I guess I should start by saying that everything worked out way better than I could’ve imagined.

Our son was born about 4 months after that post, and honestly… he’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I thought I knew what love was before, but nothing compares to the way I feel when I held him for the first time. Watching him grow, hearing his little laughs, and seeing how much he looks up to my wife — it’s all so overwhelming in the best way. He's got her eyes, and every time I see them, I’m reminded of how lucky I am.

And her? I can’t even begin to describe how incredible she’s been through everything. The strength and grace she’s shown during the pregnancy, birth, and even now as we navigate this wild, exhausting, beautiful journey of parenthood… I honestly can’t imagine doing this with anyone else. She’s my best friend, my partner in every sense of the word, and the love of my life. She handled the changes to her body post pregnancy like a champ, and I’ve grown to understand how tough that transition was for her. She’s everything to me, and seeing her as a mom has only deepened my love and respect for her.

I'm glad my teenage self could realize his feelings for her because she's just... She's perfect. I don't care how many times we fight, how many small disagreements we have had because she has taught me a lot of tings, the first thing: love.

She helped me love myself and that love she showed me helped me be a better person, enjoy the little things in life and so much more. I fall more in love with her as minutes go by.

Anyway, I’ve also realized how important it is to be patient, gentle, and supportive in the moments where life throws changes at us. This past year of big changeshas taught me that love isn’t just about being there for the good moments — it’s about understanding each other through the challenges, too. And trust me, we’ve had our fair share of sleepless nights and stressful days. But even when things get tough, I know we’re in this together, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. I hope my 20-year-old self is proud of how much I’ve grown since getting married.

So, I guess this is me saying goodbye to Reddit. Life has become so full, and every spare moment I have, I want to spend it with them — with my little family. Thank you to everyone who gave advice, made me reflect, or just made me laugh with their comments. I also loved spending my nights reading other AITA posts but now, I think I want to spend my nights reading stories to my son or watching my beautiful wife sing to him as his little eyes close, getting ready for a new day full of discovering the world around him.

I’m logging out for good, but before I go, I just want to say one last thing: if you’re lucky enough to find someone you can weather life’s storms with, someone who makes you better and makes your heart feel full… hold on to them. Love them through every change, every challenge, because those moments shape you, too. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m really, really happy I had to go through an existencial crisis at 17 just to realize how much I loved my best friend. What an amazing life that has brought me…

Take care, everyone. Hope my son doesn't find my posts about being a teenager with mixed feelings when he is older lol (although telling the stories that inspired those posts wouldn't be so bad, right?)

author's note: thank you for reading the aita tsukishima series!! i'm grateful for all your likes, reblogs and comments, they made me so happy! <3 i hope you have enjoyed it :) requests are open and i would love to hear some comments about how to improve for future posts! big love,

boo tsukki

[woso-dreamzzz]

Different: Christmas

Katie McCabe x Teen!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Clover

"Coopurr...Coopurr, man, knock it off!"

Your mum's cat continues to try to attack your feet under the safe covers of your bed.

"Coopurr! Come on!"

"You can just kick him off the bed," Your aunt Ella says from the doorway and you finally sit up in bed.

"I can't because he's the only sane person in this house! Do you know what it's like leaving with you two?"

"Amazing?"

Your mother pops her head through the door. "The most perfect thing in the world?"

You let out a bark of laughter. "You wish."

Katie winks. "I don't have to wish for something that's already true."

"The most perfect thing in the world is you leaving me here for Christmas."

It's Katie's turn to laugh now, pulling down your blankets and allowing Coopurr to bat at your now exposed toes.

"No chance," She says," Come on, up! We've got the flight back home this evening."

"Just leave me here to rot!" You say dramatically and Katie laughs again.

"You know, if you're here alone then you have to cook for yourself," She points and you sigh, finally sitting up in bed and scooping Coopurr into your arms.

"Fine," You say," But don't think I'll be happy about it."

"You're never happy about anything."

"Kim'll tell you that it's because I'm a teenager."

Katie cracks a smile. "You know what? Kim's onto something."

You roll your eyes as you get out of bed as Katie's eyes narrow.

"You haven't even started packing yet, have you?"

"I was still banking on us staying here."

Katie plucks Coopurr from your arms with an eye roll, trying to push you along with her foot. "Go and pack. And make sure to bring lots of jumpers! You know my parents don't like turning on the heating in Winter!"

You rolls your eyes as you go rummaging around in your wardrobe for your suitcase.

It's not like you don't enjoy going back to Ireland. On the contrary, you love going back to Ireland. You just didn't enjoy how big of a family you have.

Certain members of the family seemed to delight in reminding you that you weren't actually Katie's daughter. It didn't seem to matter to them that Katie had been a mother figure to you all your life. It didn't seem to matter to them that you barely even remembered your biological parents.

All that seemed to matter to them was pointing out that you were technically, biologically, Katie's little cousin.

You stuff whatever's clean and visible into your suitcase with little regard to what clothes you're actually packing before practically throwing the suitcase down the stairs.

"Stop trying to break stuff!" Katie yells.

"Ella's the one that broke the hallway table!" You yell back with a laugh," She came in drunk and fell over it!"

Ella gasps in horror from her room. "You said that you wouldn't tell her that!"

"And you said you would get me ice cream. But here I am...Ice creamless!"

You don't actually get your ice cream, even at the airport when you very pointedly show a selection of ice creams to Ella and she promptly ignores you.

Pulling up to your grandparents' house has always been a bit daunting to you. Before Katie adopted you, you lived in that house too, once upon a time.

Now though, it feels you with trepidation.

Most of the family is probably already there and you just know you're going to have to end up sharing a room with more people than just Katie.

You're right, of course, when a few other aunts and uncles arrive. Katie's aunts and uncles, of course, but also kind of yours. But you'd never really considered them that.

They were related to your biological parents and, again, you barely remembered them. You'd grown up with Katie as your maternal role model so it made sense to you as you got older that her siblings ended up filling the roles of aunts and uncles to you.

"You feeling okay?" Katie asks, hand gently covering yours as you sit on the squished sofa and pick at the Christmas Eve meal that her mother made for everyone.

"I...Yeah, I just..." You look up at one of the older men in the room, the one that always insisted on calling you anything but Katie's daughter. "I'm just going to the toilet."

"You feel sick?" Katie sits up properly, eyes narrowed as they flick over your face, searching for a flush or anything that shows you're feeling under the weather.

"No! No...I...I just need a bit of a breather, you know?"

"Yeah, kind of overwhelming around here, huh?"

"Yeah...I'm just gonna..."

"Yeah, you go ahead."

The mirror in the bathroom clearly hasn't been cleaned in a while, covered in little water droplets but you don't really mind as you splash your face with water a few times and stare at yourself, gripping the sides of the sink in a white knuckle grip.

It takes you a while to psych yourself up, enough time that you're pretty sure dinner has been finished and people have moved onto dessert.

It's usually loud in the McCabe household and on Christmas Eve, it's no different.

Lots of people fighting over the remote and someone singing a horrific Christmas carol and someone else lecturing someone on the correct way to cook a turkey even though everyone knows that no matter how a turkey is cooked, it always comes out dry.

But this yelling is different and you definitely recognise the voice of one of the people yelling.

"Get your bag!" Katie yells, finally spotting you lingering in the doorway.

"Wh-What?"

"Your bag!" Katie snaps before sighing and softening her voice," Can you go upstairs and grab our bags? Wait for me by the door."

You know better than to try and ask her things when she's like this so you leave to grab everything, coming down to catch the tailwind of her yelling.

"-She is my daughter and she will always be my daughter, no matter what any of you people think!"

"Katie-"

"No! I won't hear it! She's my daughter and I love her and it's none of your business anyway!"

"You can't just leave, it's Christmas tomorrow!"

"Yes! And I will be spending Christmas with my daughter! I don't care if it's just the two of us. If it has to be that way then it will!"

Katie looks surprisingly calm when she joins you at the front door.

"I don't think we'll get a flight at this hour," She says," But I reckon we could still catch the ferry and then we'll take a cab back home, sound good?"

You smile at her. "I might have accidentally left your present at home anyway."

She laughs. "That's 'cause you're psychic. You knew we were spending Christmas at home this year."

[fawninthesnow]

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞: 3 | Maternal! figure | Caracalla & Geta

Summary: You serve as a maternal figure in the lives of the young princes, Geta and Caracalla. Only visiting for a few weeks at a time, you are a princess from the North who has grown into caring for the boys.

Warnings: Angst!, (some) fluff, mentions of blood, accidental injury, alludes to abuse— English is not my first language!

Work count: 0.8k

a/n: For this one, they are around 9-11. This serves as a memory. This series is dedicated to the twin emperors during their childhood and stories I have made after reading about it. After looking through some deleted scenes from the script, I found that all the boys want is to be adopted and loved. 

Series: 1, 2

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

“Four, three, two, one…” Caracalla placed a hand over his own mouth, looking at you from inside one of his father’s liquor cabinets. He managed to hide himself well as Geta hid across the hall inside of his own bedroom; his small body fit inside of a traveling trunk. The boy giggled; you would never look here!

You wandered around the children’s foyer, pushing open the doors to each of their rooms and play area. “I can hear you…” As you entered one of the rooms, you heard the rattle of glass against each other. Caracalla held his breath and steadied his ribcage. You leaned down and opened the cabinet doors. The boy gasped and knocked over three of the glass bottles. The glass crashed onto the floor and the alcohol pooled around the cabinet.

The boy quietly panicked, looking around the halls before turning to you. “Calla!” You yelped as the boy quickly left the cabinet; glass pressed in his small feet. “Wait! Calla!”

Upon hearing his brother’s name, Geta pushed open the trunk where he hid. “Hm?”

“Calla.” You followed him to his wardrobe and Geta followed you. Bloody footprints tracked from the door to the wardrobe. The boy cried to himself, “Calla, please, let me see you. Your feet! They have glass in them, my love.”

“Father is coming.” Geta tugged at your gown, a fearful shake in his voice.

You shook your head, holding small Geta’s hand. “No, no, everything will be ok.”

“What was all that damn noise?” You could hear the curses under the old man’s breath as he made his way down the hall, so close to the door. “My drinks?! Who threw down my bottles?!” You went to the corridor of Caracalla’s chambers. “Oh…you.” You muttered as he looked you over a few times. His belly bulged with gluttony and his words slurred. He seemed to always reek of poison, his mind scrabbled and his anger directed at the young boys.

“It was only an accident, me and the boys were playing, your majesty.” You bowed to the man.

“Playing, eh? Always playing when you come around…” He squinted at the young boy that hid behind your gown. Caracalla continued to hide inside of the wardrobe; tears spilled down his face as the pain of the glass ran up his legs. “What is all this?” He looked at the trail of blood.

“I stepped on glass; I will have someone clean it.”

“You keep lying to me…” He squinted at you. He reached for your long curls; his podgy fingers caught in the pattern. You stepped from him, and placed Geta onto your hip.

“I would never lie.” You said back. Geta looked at his father from your height. Rather than scary, he was simply disgusting…but still frightening. “Allow me to tend to the mess. I will replace your…drinks.”

“Hm…as expected.” You looked from him for a moment, “For how long you will be with us this time…Princess?” He asked rather condescendingly.

“For as long as the boys would like.” You said, placing Geta down onto the bed.

“Your people are not worried…Sarmatia left vulnerable?”

You dismissed the comment, “My husband is doing just fine running his kingdom.” Your gaze ran up and down the mess of a man. He scoffed, “I can hear your advisor calling, your majesty.” He grumbled, glaring at the boy that was once in your arms. You turned away from the man and stood between the two’s gazes. The man left with a grumble.

You quickly opened the door to the wardrobe and carried Caracalla to the bath. He did not hold back his sobs as you removed the glass from his heels and toes with a small tool; his cries made your heart ache. Your own eyes watered as Geta held his brother’s head. “You will be ok.” He said flatly. His eyes switched from you and his brother.

Later that night, you held Caracalla to your torso. He slept quietly; his bandaged feet were held up by your other arm. Geta sat against the pillows beside you as he watched his brother. “You should sleep.” Geta quietly said.

“I was going to say the same to you, Geta.”

“I have tried, [Y/n].” You turned to him.

“Are you scared your father will hurt you? You know, I will make sure that never happens.”

“Yes, I know…It is not that this time.” He looked over at the open platform that led to the open courtyard. The sheer linen curtains blew inside of the room. “I fear, uhm, losing you. When you are not here, I look for you; In that way, I miss you. We both do.” The boy shook his head, “You mean a lot to me.”

“You both mean the world to me, Geta.” You whispered into his hair as he leaned against your side. “This pain will not last forever. There will come a time where your father will be put to rest. When there will be no fear.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” His fingertips rubbed the soft blankets, “I hope I will be better than him.”

“I have no doubts.”

“Really?” You nod. “And will you be here for that?”

“I can only pray.”

Series: 1, 2,

Part 4

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

[fear-is-truth]

How would Patrick react to you getting pregnant?

getting knocked up by patrick bateman .ᐟ.ᐟ

tw ; unplanned pregnancy (duh), intrusive thoughts, suggestive, not proofread at all

a/n: i finished writing this then forgot about its existence lol. anyways, safe sex is important !!

if you’re already married:

patrick’s reaction to the pregnancy would be shaped by his obsession with image. being 27 and married, he’d likely face pressure from his colleagues. he’s the quintessential wall street yuppie: the suit, the power, the status. kids? they’re just another box to check for the perfect american dream.

he’d flip from denial to forced enthusiasm, playing the role of the expectant father. he’d talk about starting a college fund, buying a bigger apartment, even hiring the best nanny money can buy. it wouldn’t be about the baby itself, though—it’s about appearances. patrick would treat the pregnancy like he treats his designer wardrobe: another accessory to show off.

in private, he’d still be unraveling. he’d resent the disruption to his routine, the messiness a baby would bring. but he’d also feel trapped. divorce or walking away isn’t an option—how would that look? his friends are your friends, after all. patrick would pour his insecurities into overcompensation, obsessively showering you with gifts and planning every detail of your life.

but behind closed doors, he would remain emotionally unavailable most of the time. he’d throw himself into his work, his gym routine, anything to avoid facing the reality of impending fatherhood.

he’d have a mental meltdown over your body changing—obsessing over how “the weight is distributed” while simultaneously marveling (inappropriately) at how your chest looks fuller. (“…better than any breast implants”), the way your skin glows, but also how your clothes fit differently. he doesn’t even try to hide his vanity. “you’re still beautiful, obviously,” he adds quickly, “but maybe we should talk to a trainer after the baby is born. just to make sure you bounce back quickly.”

he’d absolutely flip between moments of pathetic awkwardness and his usual cold arrogance. for example, he’d randomly caress your growing belly, but then suddenly blurt out “your… tits looks great, but do stretch marks happen to everyone?”

he’s constantly offering unsolicited opinions about your diet and fitness routine. he’s the husband who insists you on buying expensive organic groceries and then criticises you for craving something as mundane as ice cream. but when you do cry about it (because hormones), he panics and makes the whole situation awkward.

if you dare deny him sex because of pregnancy hormones, patrick would sulk like a child. but then quickly bounce back to showering you with gifts to stay on your good side.

patrick’s jealousy of your attention is borderline absurd. he starts competing with the baby before it’s even born, constantly reminding you of his accomplishments.

maternal clothes for you are only the best—chanel, hermès, and gucci maternity collections. he refuses to let you look frumpy. if you wear anything “off-brand,” he’ll throw passive-aggressive comments like “are you trying to look like a suburban soccer mom?”. also, he’d browse catalogs and stores for gucci, armani and burberry baby clothes.

the nursery is black & white and minimalist—think pristine white walls, sleek italian furniture, and splashes of gray for “warmth.” no toys that clash with the aesthetic. he insists on vitra rocking chairs, fendi baby blankets, and a custom crib.

patrick spends hours making sure the initials won’t spell something embarrassing and that the full name looks good on a business card.

he’d pick out names that scream “old money”. for boys: theodore, alexander, nathaniel. for girls: charlotte, victoria, isabelle, madeleine, genevieve, anastasia.

his obsession with control would bleed into the smallest details. he’d blast his favorite music at your presence—huey lewis & the news, whitney houston, or talking heads—arguing it’s “good for the baby’s development,” while monologuing about how these artists represent true genius.

he’d talk to your stomach, but awkwardly, fumbling over words in his usual detached, overly-rehearsed way: “your dad’s a very successful man, you know… i hope you inherit my bone structure.”

if it’s an unplanned pregnancy:

if you’re not married, holy shit… the stakes are different, but patrick’s reaction is just as selfish. first of all, the pregnancy is absolutely. his. fucking. fault. patrick hates wearing condoms (would sometimes straight up lie about wearing one) and he always tells you that nothing “bad” will happen—until it does.

his immediate response would be to downplay the situation. “are you sure?” he’d ask flatly, trying to buy time. his inner monologue would be a chaotic swirl of paranoia and blame—his mind races with possibilities: is this some gold-digging ploy? a mistake? could it even be his? and he even has the audacity to ask “are you sure it’s mine?”

the next stage would be denial. patrick doesn’t deal well with reality when it doesn’t serve him. he’d try to act as though nothing has changed, refusing to acknowledge the pregnancy in conversation. he might even subtly suggest that “it’s early days, we don’t have to make any decisions yet,” thinly veiling his hope that you’ll take care of it and spare him the inconvenience. but when it becomes clear that you’re keeping the baby, his panic would fucking escalate.

he might lash out, picking fights over nothing or disappearing for hours at a time to “work late” (read: spiral into his usual vices—drugs, violence, torturing sex workers).

he’d start compensating in weird ways. he’d lavish you with gifts—jewelry, designer clothes, a bigger apartment—anything to make you think he’s excited, supportive even. they’re attempts to placate you, to make the problem go away without addressing it.

in private, patrick would unravel. his inner monologue would become a torrent of rage, fear, and morbid fantasies. he’d think about running away, faking his own death, or worse—doing something drastic to ensure the pregnancy never reaches full term.

the idea of fatherhood would gnaw at him. as a child of divorce, patrick is deeply insecure, and the thought of raising a child dredges up unresolved feelings about his own father. the self-loathing buried under his narcissism rearing its head. he’d compare himself to his colleagues and realise that many of them already have kids—or at least talk about starting families. peer pressure.

this sense of competition would push him to overcompensate. he’d brag about how “ready” he is, throwing money at every conceivable solution: top-tier obstetricians, prenatal yoga classes, nursery designers. he’d try to mold himself into the perfect father-to-be, but only because he wants to win.

but patrick being patrick, his selfishness bleeds through. he bitches about your mood swings—“it’s like living with a completely different person”—but also refuses to acknowledge his role in them.

he spends hours staring at himself in the mirror, wondering if fatherhood will make him less attractive. he starts paying extra attention to his skincare routine, convinced that stress is causing him to wrinkle.

[rockethorse]

I did some shallow poking around, and here is every basegame mesh I could find - aside from the regular default "maternity" outfits for AF & AM - that includes a pregnancy morph. Now, assuming I haven't somehow slipped any default replacements into my game without my knowledge, I find this pretty interesting.

Some of these are already known; all pregnant Sims get pyjamas, swimwear, and underwear in addition to "maternity", and all four categories can be changed into freely from dressers. The nude mesh also has pregnancy morphs as well as any outfits that use it (swimwear, underwear, etc). As I mentioned in the tags of the original post, pregnant Sims will get forced into special pregnancy formal wear if they attend a wedding (either the knife dress up there or the racing-stripe tuxedo), but the player can't direct them to change into this pregnancy formal wear manually.

Some are more confusing; pregnant Sims can be directed to exercise, but they won't change into exercise clothes. This is odd knowing that the basegame AF tracksuit has an unused pregnancy morph attached to it. Interestingly, the basegame AM tracksuit does not have a morph; but one could argue that the default AM "maternity" outfit is more appropriate for exercising than the default AF "maternity" outfit.

Even more confusingly, there are "extra" options that never seem to get used in some outfit categories. The BG lingerie nightie has a pregnancy morph, but I've never seen a pregnant Sim randomise into anything other than the two-piece set; and for some unknown reason, the infamous baby sundress everyday outfit also has morphs.

But most confusingly of all, there are several top-only meshes that have pregnancy morphs, but zero bottoms to match:

The nude top for AM & AF has a preg morph, and I bet the elusive nude bottom does too. This isn't too surprising, but the BG AF tops with "seamless" waistlines also have pregnancy morphs. (Maybe they all used the nude top model as a base, which might've already had morphs, and there wasn't any reason to remove them.)

Do all these unused outfits suggest that at some point Maxis considered adding pregnancy morphs to all outfits, and not having a dedicated "maternity" category at all? If they did, then I'm betting they gave it up either because they realised the separates system was going to cause issues, or because it simply wasn't future-proof. They must've quickly recognised they were making a LOT of work for themselves when it came to future expansion packs, especially when Sims only wear maternity clothes for 2-3 days, and ESPECIALLY once they decided to introduce alien pregnancy.

Anyway - for my low-CC purposes, this is a very exciting discovery, and it's just an interesting insight into early days of Sims development. This might not be an exhaustive list, but I doubt there are any meshes from later EPs with morphs since they abandoned this concept in the basegame (hence there being no morphs in the outerwear category), and I'd like to sniff around some more unlocked meshes, but since pregnant Sims don't go to work it's unlikely that any career or NPC outfits etc will have morphs.

The basegame wedding dress has a pregnancy morph??

[pascaloverx]

HAUNTED

Summary: You awaken from a two-year coma to find that Detective Lois has been eagerly awaiting your recovery, believing you might have witnessed something crucial to catching a serial killer. What you didn’t expect is to learn that she suspects your doctor of being the murderer—and even more shockingly, it appears that you are married to him. Now, you must uncover your lost memories and find out who Charlie Mayhew truly is to you.

Author's Note: Yes, I'm writing another fanfic featuring Nicholas Alexander Chavez’s character from Grotesquerie. The characters belong to the universe created by Ryan Murphy in the series Grotesquerie (2024). This fanfic will include violence, strong language, and adult content. It will portray the character Charlie Mayhew as a doctor. I hope you enjoy the fanfic, but there's nothing certain about its future. If you like this fanfic, please interact, leave comments. This author will be grateful for any interaction.

TWO FOUR

© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.

THREE

After a long bath, during which you took your time exploring every detail of the lavish bathroom, you found yourself standing before your wardrobe. It was massive, with mirrored doors that reflected your every movement. The clothes inside were mostly high-end—elegant dresses, tailored blazers, and pieces that leaned toward the extravagant. After some deliberation, you chose a red dress that bordered on being too seductive, with a daring slit that revealed your legs up to your thighs.

Tonight, you wanted to capture your husband’s attention even more. Once dressed, you carefully applied perfume and styled your hair, slipping into a pair of high heels that, while uncomfortable, perfectly complemented the dress. As you stood before the full-length mirror, you questioned whether the effort was worth it. You weren’t entirely sure if you remembered how to do makeup, but you made an attempt—enhancing your lashes with mascara and applying a bold red lipstick to match the dress.

When you finally left the master bedroom on the second floor, a nagging curiosity tugged at your thoughts. What was inside Charlie’s office that he was so intent on keeping locked? But your husband would be home soon, and the anticipation of dinner with him distracted you as you descended the stairs, feeling a flutter of excitement. Mary, the housekeeper, greeted you warmly and kindly offered to give you a tour of the house. She was an older woman with a sprightly demeanor and an air of maternal care. She walked you through each room, explaining their purposes and sharing small anecdotes about the home. Her warmth was comforting, and she mentioned that dinner would be ready in just a few minutes.

However, as the minutes stretched into an hour and then two, your excitement turned to unease. Charlie still hadn’t arrived. Mary, noticing your disappointment, eventually joined you for dinner, doing her best to fill the silence with polite conversation. Her sympathetic gaze was hard to ignore—it was clear she felt sorry for you.

"Mary, could you tell me where to find the key to my husband's office?" you ask, interrupting the conversation you had both been carrying on. Mary’s gaze shifts to the window, her eyes fixed on the emptiness outside, as though weighing her response.

"I really shouldn't meddle in the personal affairs of my employers," she says hesitantly, her voice soft but tinged with unease. "Just point me in the right direction, and I promise no one will ever hear a word about it," you reply, your tone gentle, almost coaxing, as you offer her a small, reassuring smile.

"Mrs. Mayhew, please don't put me in a difficult position," Mary says, her voice wavering as if she were truly torn. "I don’t remember anything, Mary. I have no awareness of my life beyond what surrounds me now. Please, help me. I beg of you," you implore, leaning forward and clasping her hand in yours. Your earnest gaze meets hers, and for a moment, she looks conflicted.

Finally, Mary sighs, her shoulders slumping as if weighed down by the burden of her decision. "There’s a drawer," she begins hesitantly, "in the last cabinet of the kitchen. It has a hidden compartment." Her words hang in the air, charged with secrecy and a hint of guilt, as she glances away, clearly regretting having spoken.

As if bound by an unspoken pact, you give Mary’s hand a gentle squeeze before leaving her seated, silently affirming her trust. You make your way to the kitchen, heart pounding in your chest as you search for the hidden compartment she described. Your fingers tremble as you fumble with the drawer, the anticipation almost unbearable. Then, with a soft click, you find it—the key.

The house is eerily quiet, save for the sound of your hurried footsteps as you ascend to the second floor. Clutching the key tightly, you waste no time unlocking the door to Charlie’s office. The moment it creaks open, you are greeted with a scene that steals the air from your lungs.

The room is a macabre gallery of horrors. A large bulletin board dominates one wall, adorned with photographs of mutilated bodies—cadavers sliced apart, their lifeless forms frozen in grotesque poses. One image depicts a body cleaved in two, while another shows a woman with her abdomen grotesquely opened; her distended belly suggests she was pregnant. Your breath catches as your eyes fall upon a photo of yourself, pinned among the others. Beneath it, in bold writing, is your name with the word "Suspect" scrawled beneath it. Not far from it is an image of Charlie, labeled "Primary Suspect."

The walls bear even more—a chilling collection of painted recreations of the crime scenes. The artistry is disturbingly exquisite, each brushstroke capturing the raw, visceral nature of the acts committed. The paintings are hauntingly lifelike, as though frozen moments from a nightmare. On the desk, amidst scattered papers, rests a dossier with your name emblazoned on the cover. It’s thick, filled with notes, photos, and what appears to be an exhaustive investigation into your life.

You carefully scrutinize every detail in the office, even though parts of your dossier have been redacted. Ensuring everything else remains undisturbed, you lock the office door behind you and descend the stairs with a fury that feels volcanic, ready to erupt. Your steps are hurried, each one fueled by the tempest of questions swirling in your mind. You want answers from Charlie—immediately. Not only about the grotesque contents of his office but also about what could have possibly been more important than dining with you tonight.

Reaching the base of the stairs, you place the key firmly into Mary’s hands. She looks at you without a word, her expression a mixture of understanding and quiet resignation.

"Mary, return this key to its proper place, and afterward, pack some of my clothing and essentials into the guest room. Once that is done, you’re dismissed for the evening," you say, your voice taut with suppressed rage. It takes all your composure to keep from snapping, your anger simmering beneath the surface—anger at your husband’s deceit, at that ghastly mural, at those haunting paintings, and most of all, at the invasion of your privacy. Mary nods silently and turns to summon Ed, who arrives shortly, adjusting his jacket as he steps into the house.

"Ed, I believe Mrs. Mayhew would like to see her husband," Mary says, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. Ed hesitates, glancing at you as though questioning whether this is wise, but your determined stride leaves no room for debate. Without waiting for further discussion, you step out of the house, your heels clicking sharply against the stone as you head toward the car. Settling into the back seat, you fasten your seatbelt.

"To the hospital," you command, your tone brooking no argument. Ed nods and starts the car, and the journey begins, the air in the vehicle heavy with your unresolved fury and the weight of the revelations awaiting confrontation.

You don’t take long to arrive at the hospital. At the reception desk, you’re informed that Dr. Mayhew is currently attending to a particular patient. Frustration wells up within you as you rack your mind for a plausible excuse to gain quicker access to Charlie. Fate, however, seems to be on your side. From across the hall, you spot your husband emerging with his patient, their conversation light and pleasant as they approach the hospital’s entrance. The moment Charlie's eyes meet yours, it’s as if he instantly senses that something is amiss. Yet, it’s not just his presence that catches your attention—it’s hers.

The woman with him feels unsettlingly familiar. You quickly piece it together: she was on the mural in Charlie’s office. If your memory serves you correctly, her photo was captioned with Detective Megan Duval alongside the words romantic past. Like a puzzle clicking into place, the realization stings.

"Darling, what are you doing here?" Charlie asks, his voice calm yet edged with unease. He steps away from Megan and approaches you, placing his hands gently on your arms as if to comfort you. But you brush him off with a sharp movement, your temper barely restrained.

"I came to confirm that Detective Lois might have been right after all. But aren’t you going to introduce us, dear husband?" you ask, your tone laced with biting sarcasm. Your eyes bore into him before flicking to Megan, whose expression hardens alongside Charlie's.

"I can introduce myself," Megan interjects, stepping forward with a measured tone. "I’m Detective Duval. I assure you, you’re jumping to conclusions. I’m here as a patient, and your husband is my doctor." She extends a hand toward you in a gesture of civility.

You glance at her outstretched hand, but the sight only fuels the jealousy roiling inside you. "Save your platitudes for someone gullible enough to believe them, Detective Duval. I won’t keep interrupting whatever this is. Have a good evening," you retort, your voice dripping with venom as you turn sharply on your heel.

Your emotions are a whirlwind—jealousy, betrayal, and anger all threatening to consume you. You think fleetingly about causing a scene but find yourself too overwhelmed to do so. You just want to leave. You make your way toward the car where Ed stands, waiting patiently. But before you can reach him, something stops you. Or rather, someone. Charlie strides past you, moving with alarming determination. Before you can react, he hoists you off the ground and unceremoniously throws you over his shoulder, completely ignoring your protests.

"What do you think you’re doing, Charlie Mayhew?" you demand, your voice seething with indignation as you struggle against his grip. He doesn’t respond immediately, his steps firm as he carries you away from the hospital doors, leaving both Megan and Ed in stunned silence.

He carries you with unwavering determination to what you assume is his car in the hospital parking lot. Despite your protests and the sharp slaps you land on his well-toned back, he doesn’t release you until he places you firmly in the back seat of the vehicle.

"If you wish to keep protesting, then fasten your seatbelt and save your anger for when we’re home," Charlie says, his voice steady yet laced with a quiet authority. He adjusts your position as best he can, ensuring you’re seated properly before closing the door with a firm click. Without another word, he circles to the driver’s side, the tension between you hanging heavy in the confined space of the car.

Without exchanging another word, Charlie drives you both home, his knuckles tight on the steering wheel and his demeanor tense. You notice his stress as he occasionally picks up his phone, typing out terse messages to someone. You make a pointed effort to ignore him, directing your focus instead to the passing scenery outside the window. It doesn’t take long before the car pulls into your driveway. The house looms ahead, quiet and still. Mary has likely already left for the evening, and Ed is nowhere to be seen, leaving no trace of having followed behind.

When Charlie parks the car, he steps out briskly and moves to your door. Without hesitation, he leans in, releasing your seatbelt with deliberate care. His face is close to yours, and the air feels charged, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you both. "I’ll be waiting for you inside," he says in a low voice, his gaze steady as it locks with yours for a lingering moment before he straightens and walks toward the house.

You take a deep breath before stepping out of the car and heading toward the house. Once inside, everything appears meticulously arranged. On the dining table sits a prepared plate of food, likely Mary’s thoughtful gesture for Charlie. However, he stands in the middle of the living room, tension radiating from him as he nervously removes his tie and lab coat.

"I’ll be sleeping in the guest room," you state firmly, your tone brooking no argument. You turn on your heel to make your way to the guest room, but Charlie’s hand shoots out, gripping yours and halting your retreat.

"While I do regret leaving you waiting tonight," he begins, his voice steady but undercut with frustration, "that does not excuse your behavior. You have crossed a line." His eyes bore into yours, the weight of his words settling heavily in the space between you.

"I crossed a line?" you counter, your voice rising with incredulity. "And where exactly is this so-called line when you're the one keeping secrets from me? Or are you really going to stand there and tell me that you and Detective Duval share nothing more than a professional relationship? That there wasn’t a single other doctor in this city she could consult? Spare me, Charlie."

Your words are sharp, cutting through the tension as you step closer, your movements circling him like a predator confronting its prey. Despite the fury simmering between you, he seems unfazed—or perhaps too confident. He takes a deliberate step toward you, his hands moving to unbutton his dress shirt, the faint rustle of fabric punctuating the charged silence. A sly, almost teasing smile tugs at the corners of his lips, breaking through the serious expression he had worn moments before. His eyebrows lift slightly, a mischievous glint lighting up his eyes as if daring you to push further.

"Are we done with the accusations, or would you like to continue?" he finally asks, his tone low and edged with amusement, even as your frustration mounts.

"I fail to see the necessity of you removing your clothing while we’re in the middle of an argument," you say, your resolve wavering slightly as your focus slips from the reason for your confrontation. "But let me make one thing clear—you will not distract me. I won’t let you deceive me, Dr. Mayhew," you add, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as you can muster, though your words carry a partial untruth. You could reveal what you found in his office, expose the secrets he's so carefully hidden. Yet you don’t. Perhaps because you’re unsure of your next move, or perhaps because a part of you is, indeed, distracted. Your eyes betray you, drawn to the sharp lines of his well-defined chest as his shirt slides from his shoulders. A twinge of frustration flares within you—not just at him, but at yourself for letting him affect you this way.

"My beloved wife, if I were having an affair with Detective Duval, I’d be far more discreet than to let the entire hospital catch wind of it. But you are correct—Megan and I do not share a purely professional relationship. She was my girlfriend before I fell in love with you," Charlie says, his tone calm yet deliberate as he shrugs off the last of his shirt and tosses it onto the sofa. "In fact, our relationship ended because I chose you. What you perceive as a sign of infidelity is nothing more than two former lovers finally reconciling after years of bitterness. Does that satisfy you?" You study him carefully, your mistrust lingering despite the ring of truth in his words. There’s a certain earnestness in his voice, one that’s difficult to ignore, but the revelation stirs unease within you.

"If that is all you have to say, I shall take my leave," you declare, turning on your heel to retreat to the guest room. Yet your attempt is futile. Charlie’s arms encircle your waist, pulling you firmly against him. His lips graze the back of your neck, planting a soft kiss before trailing down to your collarbone. His warm breath fans against your skin, unraveling any coherent thoughts from your mind.

"I would never betray you, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice low and full of conviction. "For two years, all I ever wanted was to hold you in my arms; I would never risk losing you. You and I are more than husband and wife—we are partners." His face buries itself in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent before pressing more kisses along your skin, his path leading to your ear. You say nothing, unable to form a response, and instead turn to face him. The tension between you is palpable, burning you from within. Your fingers graze his lips, as though committing their softness to memory. His arms tighten around you, drawing you closer with unrelenting need.

You cup his face in both hands, pulling him toward you. Your lips meet his with a hunger that surprises even you, as though only he could quell the yearning deep inside. His lips are impossibly soft against yours, and you hardly register when the kiss deepens. Your tongues dance together, a gentle yet fervent battle for dominance, while his hands roam your body—caressing your waist, gripping your hips, exploring the curve of your back. He begins to tug at your dress, lifting it as if desperate to rid you of it, guiding you toward the sofa. But before he can take control entirely, you pull him down first, making him sit as you take charge.

You settle onto his lap, feeling the undeniable evidence of his desire for you grow beneath you. Your nails trace over the expanse of his chest, leaving faint red marks as you savor the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. Charlie captures your lips again with fervor, his hands firmly gripping your waist, guiding your movements against him as if ensuring you stay anchored in his embrace. The heat between you is all-consuming, maddeningly intense.

Yet, the image of him with Megan flashes in your mind—a thorn of doubt piercing through your desire. The uncertainty gnaws at you, twisting your emotions. Without thinking, you bite down on his lower lip with more force than intended. Charlie pulls back sharply, a pained groan escaping his lips as the faint taste of his blood lingers on yours. "What the hell, Y/N!" he exclaims, his voice tinged with irritation, his gaze locking onto yours with a mix of confusion and frustration.

"That, Doctor Mayhew, is what you get for testing your wife’s patience," you retort, steadying yourself as you rise from his lap, your tone cool yet charged. "Goodnight, Charlie," you add with finality, stepping away from him and heading toward the guest room, your mind a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, anger, and something you can’t quite name. Charlie calls your name a few times, his voice softer now, almost pleading, but he ultimately lets you go, leaving you to your thoughts.

[kotajose]

Lisa's Wardrobe set

When I started converting these for teens, Lisa Bunch was my play testing sim until that save started to crash. :(

All the credit goes to the amazing TS4 CC creators: Arethabee, Joliebean and MiikoCC.

Babe Tube Top (Dash Collection):

4 presets.

Recolorable.

Valid for Maternity

Custom Thumbnail.

All LODs

Compressed.

Credits: @arethabee

Download Patreon // SFS

Babe Sweatpants (Dash collection):

2 presets.

Recolorable.

Valid for Maternity

Custom Thumbnail.

All LODs

Compressed.

Credits: @arethabee

Download Patreon // SFS

Pilate Princess Top (Balance & Grace set)

1 presets.

Recolorable.

Valid for Maternity

Custom Thumbnail.

All LODs

Compressed.

Credits: @joliebean

Downlad Patreon // SFS

Tone Leggins (Balance & Grace set)

1 presets.

Recolorable.

Valid for Maternity

Custom Thumbnail.

All LODs

Compressed.

Credits: @joliebean

Download Patreon // SFS

Off the shoulder top (Dark Academia set 1)

1 presets.

Recolorable.

Valid for Maternity

Custom Thumbnail.

All LODs

Compressed.

Credits: @miikocc

Download Patreon // SFS

Tights (Dark Academia set 1)

1 presets.

Recolorable.

Valid for Maternity

Custom Thumbnail.

All LODs

Compressed.

Credits: @miikocc

Download patreon // SFS

[realisticpregerotica]

Miss Labor Day

Summary: Offered a dubious, though life changing opportunity, Jane participates in a competition to see which mother to be can hold back the birth of their children the longest.

MDNI 18+

Content: 4.7k words, First person POV, drug induced labor, orgasmic birthing.

I was DM’ed by an old friend one night leading up to the event. They were looking for pregnant women for their event. I heard that these pre-labor day events were slowly growing, hell, some of them even made it to local radio stations. 

The amount of money was life changing, not just for a newly single mother down on her luck, but this would fund every financial woe facing me and my unborn child! Sure, the events felt a little fetish-y, but anything could be. All of the events I saw were attended with parents and their young kids! What was the harm if it was PG and if I was kept anonymous?

An email and a phone interview later said I was registered to be a contestant on Labor Day Monday. It was a strain to travel in my state, but a break was what maternity leave was for, right? 

The caller had me record the time and location. Slowed by my waddle, fatigue, and frequent bathroom breaks I finally found backdoor C. I had arrived less than an hour before the event.

Before I knocked, coordinators flooded out of the door and anxiously ushered me inside. They opened every door and took my bags. and pulled out all of the chairs in front of a line of mirrors all covered with ring lights that illuminated all of our attires. Above all of the wardrobes and the passing of makeup people and costume designers were the banners that symbolized the 23rd anniversary of ‘Miss Labor Day. Around were banners and a crude insignia of a company,‘The Maternity Ward’.

A pink paper bag was on the table as they left. 

It made sense! these events were usually cutesy swimsuits, I expected the judges to be adorable old ladies commenting on the mothers to be. The thoughts soothed my nerves of the anxious rush inside and I thought of how the outfit would look as I took off my loose maternity wear. In private I covered myself from head to toe, trying to hide away the harsh realities of my changing body. 

Immediately, my eyes dropped when I found the orange two piece. There wasn’t enough skin covered to modestly shelter my swelling curves and the outfit wasn’t fashionable enough to make the excessive amount of skin worth it. The top was clearly designed for a woman less busty than one about to breastfeed, my boobs were spilling from the sides! And the worst of the outfit came when I looked down

My stomach was large enough to hide the bottoms out of sight entirely, giving the impression that I was completely bottomless. My only reassurance that I was being covered at all was feeling the cloth hug my hips and embarrassingly growing ass. Yet, the space between my legs was cold. With my legs slightly parted from the sheer mass of my midsection, I stared at my behind in the mirror and immediately shut my legs in horror. 

These bottoms left my pussy completely exposed! 

My cheeks flushed from the exposure. This had to have been a mistake… A problem with the wardrobe people, yeah! I had to get it figured out, the event was ready to start at any moment. 

I needed to find somebody. Quick!

The ceiling lights eclipsed over my head. I turned to see the blockage of the light and came face to face with a mountainous sphere inches away from my lips. I darted away, finding myself standing against the counter and face to face with a beautiful woman.  She was large, no shorter than 200cm with a presence to match. Her dark skin and large, full hair made my heart skip a beat with a warm smile on her full lips.

“You have to be the last contestant. Nice to meetcha-” Her eyes focused on my nametag. 

“-Average Jane!” 

“Y-you too!” I stuttered, my face quickly flushing. 

God, she was totally my type. The definition of her abs remained even after the heaviness of her belly hung between her hips, though she had the strength to hold the weight of her unborn child with stability. I swallowed “It’s a little vanilla, isn’t it?”

“Is anything about us vanilla, hun?” she smiled, letting one arm rest comfortably against her tight, heavy stomach. The paper slip around her neck read ‘Muscle Mommy’. The name definitely fit, however outdated it was.  She sported a workout bra and between her exercise tights. Her dark skin was exposed with a large slit between her legs, no different from being naked, I averted my eyes and blushed at her calm disposition.

“Mufu~ Is this who we were waiting on?” Another woman spoke from the edge of the hallway. Her blonde hair was covered by a black shawl with a black gown and a white blouse. Across her collarbone above her own huge round that pushed out explicitly from her gown was a catholic cross. My eyebrow furled at the blatant contradiction, causing me to evaluate her whole appearance.

Whether it was the tightness of the blouse and the slit opening to expose her thighs, any depiction of a nun would have made this appearance sacrilege. She cocked her head, looking down at me. 

“An example will certainly be made of her, shortly. That baby looks seconds away from flying out of her. The only woman larger than her-” 

“Would be me!”  Said a high voice with a distinct accent. A smaller girl with a comically large belly came between us carrying her stomach as she approached us. Her sun kissed skin shined with her long, jet black hair. Her neck and wrists were dawned with turquoise beads and a humble ponytail, she looked… pure. Holy even! Especially compared to the last contestant! An open midriff and a white bikini top that fit her smaller chest, her white skirt wasn’t bordered with underwear. 

“My goddess has bestowed the privilege of bearing life.” Her hands hovered over her own tag with disappointment. “I am to be called Pele, but this name is a disservice to her, but I will wear her name as her devout supporter.”

From behind the rest of the cast was a woman with a quiet presence with incredibly sharp features with an incredibly round stomach that jutted from her clothing as she stretched. A Central Asian woman with indigo and gold of her loose clothing displayed her incredible flexibility in front of a full body mirror. She had beautiful, high cheekbones and almond eyes of my platonic idea of a vixen. She seemed to have been caught off guard by the sudden eyes on her. Meekly, she waved, saying something in a foreign language and pointed to her tag. 

‘Acro-bab’

Muscle Mommy threw her arm around my shoulder, making me sit straight up. Maternity looked downright stunning on each of these women “Any lady who has gotten this far has a real chance of winning. This isn’t anything compared to motherhood!

Before we could interact any longer a woman wearing a headset poked her head into the fitting room. “Ladies, it’s go time!” 

We were ushered behind a closed curtain and told to stand behind taped ‘x’s on the floor. The curtain lifted, letting in spotlights and exposing the dozens of people in masks. Ladies in scrubs hid out on the corners away from the sight of the audience 

Though facial features couldn’t be made out articles of clothing were missing, bare legs, chests, bras. A roar of cheers erupted as the audience turned in their seats, visibly aroused at the sight of our round exposed bodies.

I wanted to cover my body. This… This was not the PG event that I had expected it to be. 

A man in a tophat and a monocle stood before the crowd. He appeared far younger than his by his attire as he introduced each of us. His mid Atlantic accent was the perfect voice for radio. “Now, to our main event. With special thanks to ‘The Maternity Ward’ for sponsoring our 23rd annual ‘Miss Labor Day’ event!” 

What have I got myself into?

“In celebration of your endeavor, we present you with women willing to present their endeavor as they bring new lives into the world.” I looked around me. Everybody embraced the announcement with a smile, even Acro-bab flaunted her stomach proudly towards the crowd. 

“Let us celebrate you in attendance and these mothers to be when we find out who will be the 23rd annual ‘Miss Labor Day!’”

There’s no way…

Men dawned in black and white stripes blocked either side of the stage and approached each of the women with a gigantic needle into various parts of their bodies. The needles disappeared into Mommy's forearm, the contortionist’s collar, and even into Pele’s belly with no regard for the unborn residents inside. 

I felt queasy remembering all of the blood I had drawn throughout my pregnancy. I leaned away from the rest of the ladies and felt the cold prick of a needle enter the side of my neck. Icy fluid poured into my bloodstream.

The proximity from my head made me feel like the drug was injected straight into my brain. It lit up my entire body. I was hot, and I needed to spread this heat to somebody else. I looked to my stomach, “Mnnn-haaaa!” I whined as I felt my body keel over to address the sudden ache in my midsection. 

My heart started to pound as all of the ladies around me had similar reactors. Fluttering eyelids, a biting of the lip, and blushes being worn on our cheeks. I could keep my eyes off the muscular woman, watching her body flush and tighten with all of the orgastic sensations claiming our bodies. 

It took effort for me to still my legs. I had no idea how long had passed since the injection. My whole body started to light up as I struggled to stay upright. The room was spinning around me. I was so hot, all of these eyes on me. My pussy began to ache. Even with all of the eyes on me I craved feeling my fingers inside of me to relieve the growing pressure deep within. 

“A-Ah!” I gasped. My baby jabbed a foot sharply through their shrinking home, harder than every fetal kick they had ever delivered before. My uterus fought back, clamping down against my unborn child in retaliation that doubled me over.

“Jane, you doin’ alright?” Muscle Mommy asked. I went to reply, but a string of consonants flowed from my mouth instead. Unpreventable sensations that resembled the same loss of control like the middle of an orgasm.

Before I knew it a squeal escaped my tight throat I felt fluids spill from me. I clasped my thighs as much as I could like I could catch my waters as it ruptured. Amniotic fluid pooled against the wooden floor below me. Everybody's eyes fell to me

I started this race in last place…

Before there was too much dead air Miracle Baby let out a gasp as well. Her knees trembled as a steady but modest stream of water began to drip between her legs as well. The sound of chains were muffled between her legs. I wasn’t the only person who noticed. The women in pink scrubs whispered something to the announcer.

“Mnnn-haaaa!” I couldn’t silence the noises coming from my mouth. All I could imagine were my inconsolable moans in the crowd of strangers. The contractions started from my back and worked their way to consume my entire midsection. Every second with the drug forcefully rammed my baby’s head into my ridgid cervix.

As the minutes passed the other ladies' water broke as well. Muscle Mommy’s dampened her tights as they spilled as she controlled her breathing. Pele’s exploded dramatically from between her legs, making everybody flinch; followed by the petite mother. And last was Acrobab, who slowly began to leak as she rolled her hips restlessly.

“O-o-oh fuUUCK!!” I cried as I clenched my stomach. Weeks of Braxton Hicks couldn't have prepared me for the hormone induced contractions that forcibly seized my muscles. Despite the pain, the unnatural urge to please this sensation between my hips overtook me. 

There was no way I could feel like this, I was giving birth!

“Ah-ah-ah. Language.” The host commented, before I could retaliate I was slammed again. 

“OHHH GODDD!!” I screamed as I felt my abused birth canal spread with the rigid body of my baby. I wanted relief, something, ANYTHING to take away the pain. Through squinted eyes I saw the line of women swaying gently. All but one woman, whose struggle relieved some of the pressure pounding it’s way into my birth canal.

“D-don't use the lord's name in vain.” Miracle Babe scolded.  She wasn’t doing any better than I was. Her face was pale white as it dripped with sweat. 

A painful contraction overtook her. The blond woman dropped to her knees and made her headdress fall. A throaty growl sounded from her throat as she held her thigh up and bore down with all of her might. The nurses whispered amongst each other and then to the officials while her teeth gnashed with the struggle of childbirth.

Audience members whispered as their strokes between their legs slowed. In front of the audience wasn’t her bare sex, but a strip of black leather that tightly wrapped around her. 

The officials circled around her and threw her cheap dress over her sore, red stomach.

A leather belt bulged horrifically between her legs. There was tension as she was overwhelmed by another contraction. “UHHHHNNNNGGGHH!!!!” She screamed between clenched teeth. The belt trembled, fighting against her body's desire to expel the child inside of her stomach.

“Goodness, that must be a chastity belt. A ‘Miss Labor Day’ first!” The announcer sounded. 

“That’s a blatant violation of the rules. With less excuses than, well, a pregnant nun!”

Nurses piled between her legs with scissors in their hands. Miracle Babe tried to crawl away, kicking her legs while overwhelmed by her contractions.

“P-please, not here, not now! It’s gonna come out!!'' she begged as they got between her legs. The trauma shears completed their cut The belt was snipped as Miracle Babe’s vagina was exposed. She was tattooed with tally marks above her upper thigh. Lord could only imagine what the count was. The ink took a backseat to the glistening crown embedded between her legs, and it was only getting bigger.

I watched her eyes grow wide.

“AAAAANNNNH!!! NOOOOO-!” she screamed as her hole unnaturally exploded into a full crown. She no longer had any control over her body. The drug demanded her baby would be born. Her back arched as she surrendered to the birthing drugs.

“HNNNNNNNNGGGGGHHHH!!!” The shoulder of the fake nun’s baby slipped free from their mother’s opening as the rest of the body hit the hard wood with a wet thud where she stood. The umbilical cord hung from her pussy to the floor where her baby wailed. Miracle Babe fell flat on her back with her legs opened towards the audience. Her eyes shot into the back of her head and her tongue shot out. Her poor baby squirmed between the legs of their incapacitated mother as the midwives pressed stethoscopes into the blonde woman’s stomach and took care of the child.

For the first time since the drug was injected into me I felt my body go limp with shock. There was a real baby, a real child from a long pregnancy that was carried by a woman whose name I didn’t even know. They really let her baby be born on stage! 

“What an embarrassment to her faith.” Pele uttered with closed eyes.  She sat cross legged, allowing the audience to gaze between her legs. Through the tightest slit in her vulva there was the shape of a head between her legs. Suddenly, she went quiet, entering a trance-like state of controlled inhales and exhales. It was as if she wasn’t resisting the drugs at all!

“Hoo… Hoo…” Acro-bab's chest began to heave. Before her beautiful face allowed her body to progress another moment for her labor her forearms fell to the floor and she arched her back. 

My heart started to race seeing her shape in that downward facing position. Her lean body wore her appealingly disproportionate curves beautifully. Her breathy moans were eye-catching as her belly formed a polygon with every contraction. Through the power of gravity her baby was held in.

The other women were slowly affected as I writhed with agony on the floor. I tried my hardest to keep my knees clenched together. My thighs sandwiched themselves together 

“Tight… Competition” Muscle Mommy said. I saw the corner of her lip twitch as her attention was pulled from her. I watched her muscular midsection seize with tremendous force. The uncontrollable contraction of all of her muscles bearing down to birth her child. “U-ung…” She groaned, as finally she was forced to a knee on the ground  She spaced off into the distance to fight the urges of her body.

The competitor who was worse for wear had the head of an infant comfortably embedded between her legs. Pele kept her legs splayed open as she arched her back, with high pitched pants as she listened to her body’s desire to birth her child. An infant much smaller than the indication of her stomach peeked under her skirt. 

She looked so peaceful, like she had prepared her entire life for this. The urgency of competition seemed completely lost on her.  

Her chest arched towards the sky “Mnnnhhhhaaaa~!” She moaned with one final push, welcoming her child. The baby entered the world gently against the wooden surface.

“Pele has been eliminated!” The host announced. The young woman blinked away lusty cloudiness while she panted softly. Unbothered, she crawled over to her child and cradled them in their arms. She kissed her child’s head and let them latch to her breast whispering foggily with a satisfied smile.

Doulas surrounded her. The eyes of the woman carrying the stethoscope went wide, immediately rushing towards the announcer. 

Though her womb had been emptied her stomach still laid especially round. The tiny woman drew a long breath, and with an exhale another pop of fluids gushed from between her thighs

“My-my folks! Pele has another child making their arrival today! She’s still in the competition.”. No wonder she was so smug! There was a backup baby inside of her!

With the other three ladies standing strong I felt so pathetic as I kicked against the floor. Every breath was agony. With every oxytocin induced contraction I could feel the head pound my cervix into painful dilation. I wasn’t sure if it was thousands of years of evolution that forced me to open my legs or the gigantic fucking head that just began to spread my lips apart.

As I looked to my side I saw the lean, powerful legs of the Acro-bab splayed open from her upside down position. Her face was red and sweaty, her grit teeth and tears made it clear she couldn’t hold her unbreakable position for long. The head of her baby emerged from the split between her legs. 

I could see desperation in her eyes for a moment before she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. 

In an amazing display of control she sprawled her legs straight into a handstand, maintaining a perfect arch to hold her child upside down into her stomach. I imagined all of that weight and pressure fighting against gravity. I could imagine the rigid walls of her uterus tied in a compact knot as the crowning head receded back into her lips

“OWWWW, FUCK!” I screamed. I clutched my stomach as I felt something round press against my opening into the dry air. My shaky hands reached between my legs to feel the wet orb forcing my hips apart. My baby was being born. I couldn’t hold back much longer!

Then, I heard a moan from my left.

“Unnnngggghhhh!” She groaned with the loss of control. All the energy of her body was sapped by the drug. Her chest heaved up and down as hair fought to get into her lungs. The crown emerged from her skyward facing gash.

In her moment of complacency, Acro-bab slipped. Her legs dipped behind her head as her infant slid out cartoonishly to the side of her head. Her muscles relaxed, and her face relaxed into the same feeling of euphoria that Miracle Babe wore. She looked so ecstatic to finally be done with such a situation and the act of pregnancy. I envied her…

But now there were only two other competitors. 

My breasts grew sore at the sound of Pele's baby coo softly. In an instant, Muscle Mommy and I knew what needed to be done.

Pele flinched as she leaned into the Muscle Mommy. “Oh, Goddess!” She pleaded as she arched into her competitor. Her foggy eyes were adorable as she continued to labor.

My hands found her lower belly. Fuck, she was beautiful. Not just for a woman in labor. But divine, like her body was made to deliver children as the second head began to peak towards me. 

The area that had already been stimulated by the drugs and her first child. The uncontrollable shift in her muscles as another contraction was induced. “Pushhhh.” Just then, I felt my own contraction begin to bind my abdomen again. My hand dipped between her legs as I supported my weight around the beautiful tan skin of her belly. 

“Goddess… Thank you…” she moaned quietly under her breath. Her eyes were barely cracked open. Her mind was outside of this plane; she allowed herself to enjoy every side effect of the drug. “I am humbled to give life in this bliss, Goddess…” I saw Muscle Mommy’s eye twinge from the feeling of the smaller woman’s body lay into her for support. 

“Nnnhhhhgggggggg!!!” I moaned, feeling my baby’s head open into the world. I could feel my ether region split towards the crowd even through the resistance of my fingers as the skin of my entrance burned for the widest portion of my baby’s head.

But Pele was closer. She pushed all of her tiny body’s weight into her. Her little moans were adorable, the little sliver of a second hairy head spread her lips open. I could feel the muscles of her petite waist tighten as her tummy squeezed its round from out between her legs. 

The sound of all three of our moans overlapped as we tried to hold back our labor. All except for Pele. Her voice peaked and gave one final push. The head in my hands popped with a gush around the ears. Her pussy clung onto the child, feeling every surface with a loud groan. Her modestly sized infant slid into my hands. Pele’s stomach finally deflated with a kiss of adorable postpartum pudge.

With Pele’s unconscious body between us. Muscle Mommy stared at me holding Pele’s baby. Her gaze was kind, but she knew she was firmly in the lead. 

“May the best mommy win.” She winked as the young mother and her babies were assisted off stage. 

Her body distracted me, her perfectly sculpted figure and all of her tight, muscular curves. I could only imagine how powerful the baby inside of her was. Her belly sat comfortably between her legs, allowing her baby’s head to be comfortably held into her pelvis.

I couldn’t move, my legs were forced open by my baby’s head. With every breath it felt like my child’s body would stretch me to capacity and I would finally give birth. She had amazing control over her pelvic floor. Her abs rolled in a display of strength that I only wished I could hold.

One more contraction overtook my body from my spine to my belly button. The muscles of my tired uterus guided my baby to my opening. “It’s coming!” I screamed. My pussy burned as I crowned. My baby’s head stretched me horrifically, I could feel my tight opening burn to accommodate the head.

“UNNNGGHHHH!!” I snarled through teary eyes and grit teeth. Muscle Mommy was before me, controlling her breathing while the head of her child had just started to peek through while I could feel my baby’s head dangle from the back.

My cheek hit the floor in defeat.

I submitted. I drew air into my chest and forced all of my strength into my belly. My baby’s body didn’t budge. I moved my heavy legs further apart, feeling the head of my partially birthed child dampen my thighs and arched my back to give into my body’s violent urge to deliver my child.

“URRRRRRNNNNGGGGHHH!!!” I cried with grit teeth, enough to make my swollen body tremble with the effort. All of the pressure transferred directly to my baby's shoulder, caught uncomfortably into my pelvis. My baby didn’t budge…

“A-aha!” I heard my voice fill the room. I didn’t even recognize my own voice.

“AHAAHAHAHAHA!!” My powerful laughs shook my body, and even as my heavily pregnant body rumbled my baby’s shoulders didn’t budge.

“It’s stuck!” I laughed maniacally. No matter what I did my baby was stuck! The drama of the moment took hold of me. The prize, the competition, all social convection and inhibitions crumbled in the time it took for me to deliver the rest of my child. For a moment, nothing else mattered! I wasn’t guaranteed a damn thing, and I was going to enjoy these final moments before I became a mother. 

I closed the distance between myself and the muscular woman. I was close enough to see. I pulled her into my body and into a kiss with all of the pent up feelings for the beautiful mother before me. 

“J-Jane?” She asked as I crawled towards her with a blush and heavy breaths. I was within arms length before I reached out, holding her face and running my fingers through her hair. “You’re so pretty.” 

The drug had been taking a toll on her too as she accepted my kiss. Her plush lips made me want to sink my hands into her laboring body as I made out with her. Muscle Mommy’s belly was so gigantic and as hard as steel, but under my fingertips I could feel those muscles surrender. “Mmmfff!” She cried under my lips. She drew deep breaths that were stifled by a deep kiss against her neck.

I could feel her powerful abs bear down with the pressure. All of her weight pressed into my stomach. I could feel the fruits of her pregnancy squeeze me. Her hungry hips thrusted into my hands while I played with her opening pussy

Our tongues wrapped around each other and I could feel her face tighten with effort. “MMMMNNNNFFFFGHHHH!!” 

I stroked her face as the strong woman melted into a maternal puddle in my arms. I held her baby’s head, feeling the power behind her final push from on top of my body. From against my womb I felt her baby exit as she, too, fell limp against my body. 

Her baby laid between our legs. 

“Ladies and gentleman, with a massive upset, your winner of the 23rd official Miss Labor Day- Average Jane! ” More midwives rolled in with a gurney and towels to assist Muscle Mommy off of the floor. The announcer approached me with a trophy and a gigantic check. But I was preoccupied .

The shutter of cameras caught me with my back on the floor with a trophy hoisted in my arms. I toyed with my clit with a midwife on either side of me, aware to keep myself open for the money shot. 

With the final pulse of the drug my child’s shoulder was freed by the assisting hands around me. “OUUUUGGHHHHHH!!” My legs flew into the air, the drug peaked induced my climax and the birth of my child as an orgasm tore through my entire body. The primal sensation of labor peaked as my baby’s shoulder exploded from between my legs. 

I heard my child cry right beside me as nurses assisted me off the stage. I knew my life had changed forever when I began to wonder how many times I would be Miss Labor Day.

[donotpush]

Hi, if you're still doing build the birth prompt, fpreg #6 please!! Thanks, XOXO

lucky one, anon! this it's the longest i've written for the ask yet, hope you enjoy ;)

#6 CAR KEYS / COFFEE STAIN / NOTEBOOK

Nine months ago Cassie's boss had stopped asking for her usual iced coffee order of every-fucking-morning. The one that took 20 extra minutes of Cassie's life as she stood in the never-ending line of the overpriced coffee shop Dr Anderson liked.

She didn't think much about it until Dr Anderson started to...well, look pregnant. She outgrew most of her carefully selected, expensive blouses. Her once flat, toned stomach started to stretch tightly around the silk, and soon to taunt the buttons.

But even when Dr Anderson had to basically re-do her whole wardrobe, she didn't say a thing. She never acknowledged the heavy, gravid stomach protruding in front of her. She never acknowledged the way her breasts had duplicated their size and how they were so, so sensitive. She didn't address the odd cravings or the sudden tiredness.

Every time someone would mention the word pregnancy, looking in awe at her stomach or pointing at it, she would look at them as if she had no idea what they were talking about.

Dr. Anderson didn't stop driving herself to work, not even when her car seat couldn't go further back and when Cassie wasn't sure she could fit in the driver's seat anymore. Her boss dangled the car keys in front of her and asked "Why wouldn't I drive?"

Cassie had tried to subtly get her to spill it, to at least get a hint of confirmation of the obvious, but her boss seemed to be in total and complete denial of her state.

Her pregnant, gravid state, results from a slip nine months ago.

Cassie thought that, as her due date approached (or at least around the time she’d estimated it would happen, as she had been carefully tracking the months go by) she would take maternity leave. But no, the nonsense kept going.

That morning, when her boss sent her a text asking for iced coffee with extra caramel, Cassie had a nagging feeling in her gut that the nonsense would be coming to an end.

And she was right. That morning, as she slid the plastic cup onto the desk, resting in the well-worn coffee stain in the wood, Cassie couldn't ignore the way her boss' stomach hung low, so low in front of her. Or the way her face seemed to contort, lips pursing into a thin line and hands gripped at her pen, knuckles turning white. It was first every few hours, then, every few minutes.

Or the slow, unsteady waddle as they made it to the first meeting of the day. The way one of her hands discretely pressed to the side of her unmistakably tense stomach, the other busy gripping tightly at her notebook.

She did not miss the way her boss, sitting next to her, clenched her thighs together and squirmed in the now too uncomfortable meeting room chairs, and the quiet whimpers she tried to disguise while sipping on her barely touched iced coffee.

She didn't miss the moment Dr. Anderson gave up, entirely, either. How she leaned forward, forearms resting on the table, hands clasped tightly together as her legs jerked apart, as the need, no, the urge to push crept to her strained face.

Then, her boss let out a moan, quite loud one, and threw the chair back, throwing the plastic cup of coffee in the process, not caring if it ruined the paperwork— or if Cassie got dirty. She clearly had more important things to attend than this meeting, like the head of her baby trying to make its way out of her gravid body against her wish.

The cold brew coffee fell into Cassie's lap and stained her white skirt. Dr. Anderson let out a low moan as she pushed back, hands gripping at the armrests, and jerked her hips forward, revealing to the rest of the room the baby's head bulging in between her legs, pushing out against the fabric of her tailored pants.

Cassie thought that was going to be a hard stain to clean.