#kink prompt answer

[shhhsecretsideblog]

#3, prenatal massage

Healing Hands

Great setting for this prompt! Thanks for the request, really hope you like it! And thanks to @gravid-transluna for being my beta 💜 Content: fpreg, inconvenient birth, clothing birth, unassisted. 2,652 words

Prompt: “I’ll be fine, it’s not like my waters have broken-”

“Look… My ankles are swollen; my back aches; my hips hurts; my boobs are sore; my bladder is being used as a punching bag and I’ve not seen my feet for weeks! I am going to get that massage.” Kate told her husband in no uncertain terms, standing by the front door and struggling to pull her coat around her large and low-hanging pregnant belly.

“Fine.” Tom sighed, resigned to his wife’s argument. “At least let me drive you, I can wait in reception and take you home afterwards.”

Kate had received a gift voucher for a prenatal massage from a friend at her baby shower. Unfortunately, with finishing her job and getting everything ready for their new arrival she’d completely forgotten about the voucher and was swiftly running out of time. She had been feeling practice contractions on and off all week but today she’d had quite a few and Tom was getting a bit nervous about the idea of Kate going out, convinced she was in labour.

As they walked to the car the mother-to-be felt the start of another cramp begin to tighten across her middle. Kate placed her hand on the side door of the car and took a deep breath releasing it slowly.

“Babe, you’re having contractions.” Tom warned, seeing his headstrong wife go unusually quiet. Again.

“They’re not real contractions.” Kate assured. “Anyway, I’ll be fine, it’s not like my waters have broken-” she paused, feeling suddenly… off and noticed the slightest dribble of liquid run down her inner thigh. For fucks sake.

“Kate? You okay?” Tom asked her over the roof of the car from where he stood at the open driver's side door.

Great timing baby, Kate thought with annoyance. She so desperately wanted that massage, with all the stress of painting and decorating the nursery, finishing her job before maternity leave, not to mention the burden of carrying around a 7lb baby wherever she went. She was really looking forward to having a nice 45 minutes of relaxation and calm.

“Hmm.. yeah fine. Just a kick.” Kate lied easily. She would be having that massage dammit, especially if she was about to spend the next god-knows how many hours labouring and birthing a child. She deserved to start off calm and relaxed before the chaos rained.

Kate pulled her coat under her bum as she sat down in the car, hoping the thick fabric would absorb the slight leaking from what she suspected was her waters beginning to break.

~•~

She didn’t have any more cramps… contractions in the car driving to the spa, and Kate was thankful and reassured. Perhaps it wasn’t her waters, or perhaps she was just in the very early stages of labour. There was no need to panic, or to tell Tom.

When she arrived at the spa for her appointment she was given a dressing down and was directed to the bathroom to change. “I’ll just wait here for you, hun.” Tom said, kissing her cheek and sitting down in a chair in reception, pulling out his phone to play games.

Kate had another cramp whilst changing out of her clothes. “Hoooo….” She breathed slowly through the rising wave of tightness. “Hooo… okay baby, I get the message. Just give your mum one hour to have this massage. I’m gonna need it if you’re on your way soon.” She affectionately rubbed the bare skin of her rounded stomach, standing in just her knickers as she braced through the pain.

Wrapped in the dressing gown, Kate met her massage therapist outside the treatment rooms and was led inside. It was dark, very low soft lighting, the smell of lavender was thick in the air and a soft instrumental sound played through the speakers in the ceiling. It was calm and tranquil and perfect. After a quick discussion and assessment form, Kate was briefly left alone to remove the dressing gown and lie herself down on the massage table, on her side beneath the provided towel. It took a bit of negotiating with her slow and heavy body, and it set off another cramp, but she was soon lying along the cushioned bench with a pillow between her legs and a soft fluffy towel draped over her semi-naked body.

Anita, the massage therapist, had wonderful healing hands, Kate thought as she closed her eyes and held her bump. Pressing and massaging all along her spine and hips, Anita’s nimble fingers worked their magic and helped soothe all the overworked and taxed muscles in Kate’s body which had been strained and put to the test during this pregnancy. With the gentle acoustic music and the aroma of oils and incense, Kate felt for the first time in a long time - truly relaxed. That is until the contractions ramped up.

In the darkened room Kate had no concept of time, but she found herself breathing heavily and it felt like she was bracing herself every few minutes for the next wave. A groan slipped out from her mouth during a particularly fierce one.

“Is the pressure okay?” Anita asked softly. “Harder? Softer?”

“Mmnhh… more pressure please.” Kate moaned. “On my hips…”

Anita continued her work, focussing on Kate’s hips and pressing into her lower back and the tops of her thighs, the fluffy towel draped across the parts of her body not being worked on. But the contractions kept coming - longer and stronger - and Kate gripped the towel which was covering her belly and breasts, squeezing it tight between her tensed fingers. Soon she was groaning again, longer this time.

“Are you alright?” Anita’s voice laced with concern for her heavily pregnant client.

“Yeah…oooff! Just some kicking and cramping. But I’m fine.” Katie schooled her face to a natural and relaxed expression. She knew her labour was progressing by the steady waves of pain that kept on hitting, but she could not handle the idea of moving or having to deal with these contractions without Anita’s magical hands pressing into all the right pressure points, making the pain bearable.

So she did the only thing she could… She kept quiet and kept breathing, letting the expert fingers of her massage therapist ease the pain of her advancing labour.

Half way through the appointment Anita had her change positions; first to lie on her other side so the masseuse could tackle Kate’s other hip and thigh; then the mother-to-be was moved to a padded chair where she was instructed to sit backwards on it, effectively straddling the cushioned seat and resting her forearms on the tall backrest. The movement was arduous and with it Kate became very aware of how low the baby had moved - practically sitting just behind her pubic bone. She was glad to be sitting wide-legged over the chair as she didn’t think her thighs could close now with how deep the baby was nestled.

Anita ran her expert hands up and down the length of Kate’s spine, her fingers sliding over her bare skin with the aid of the fragrant massage oils. “Mnnnhhh… lower…” Kate grit as yet another contraction twisted across her belly contorting it into a tight ball, the labouring woman desperate for Anita to press deep into her flaring hips to relieve the pain.

Somewhere deep within her an urgency was rising, Kate couldn’t work out where but the pressure was forceful, aggressive and overwhelming. She whimpered and moaned, the weight and fullness in her pelvis bubbling up closer and closer to boiling point.

“What’s wrong?” Anita asked, removing her hands from Kate’s body, fearing she had hurt the mother-to-be.

“Hoooo…. Don’t stop! Mnnnhhh…” Kate moaned heavily into the crook of her elbow, tiling her hips backwards towards the other woman chasing the healing hands, her belly squishing between her legs and resting on the cushioned chair.

Against Anita’s better judgement, she followed the instructions and continued pressing into the pregnant woman’s lower back and hips.

However, Kate’s moans could no longer be construed as noises of relief and relaxation; her whole body was tense and tight, her fingers gripping hard and white knuckling the back of the chair. The pains were coming every couple of minutes now - she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The pressure soon reached breaking point. Without instruction she felt all her internal muscles squeeze downward and she let out a deep and primal grunting sound.

Anita’s hands vanished in an instant. The masseuse said something but Kate couldn’t hear it; her sole focus was on the giant heavy mass sitting on her cervix and it needed to come out. Now. She gasped a breath and pushed, uncontrollably, too shocked to do anything other than follow her body’s instincts. Somewhere in her peripheral a door was opened and closed - she’d been left on her own, labouring and pushing, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. All that mattered was the baby's head that was starting to part her folds.

~•~

“Are you Tom?! Kate’s husband?!” A woman came rushing into reception looking as white as a sheet, seeing him and immediately making a beeline towards where he sat.

“Yeah? What’s wrong, where’s Kate?”

“I- I think your wife might be in labour.” Anita blurted out, breathless and panicked.

“Damn it.” Tom cursed, pocketing his phone and rising immediately to his feet. “Erm, okay, what’s happened, is she alright? What makes you think she’s in labour?”

“B-because… because I think she’s pushing…”

“What?!” Tim shouted, and the pair ran down the corridor towards the treatment rooms.

Tom’s heart was in his throat as he followed after the freaked-out massage therapist. Pushing! Surely she couldn’t be pushing, she was barely in labour when she went in. Tom tried to reason with his overactive thoughts that were jumping and leaping ahead to a whole host of problematic scenarios. Maybe the girl was mistaken, or just got scared at seeing a woman in labour.

Tom’s fears were soon realised as they approached the treatment room and even with the door shut the sounds of Kate groaning could be heard through the wood. He felt sick, she can’t be having the baby now, she just can’t. Jumping headfirst into the unknown, Tom nervously opened the door, stepped through, and at the sight before him his stomach fell to the floor.

Squatting the wrong way over the chair with her back to him, and wearing nothing but her underwear, his wife growled and moaned and strained. Oh my god she is pushing! Tom stood there for a beat, jaw hanging open, frozen at what he was seeing. But when he started to see the shape of something begin to bulge between her obscenely wide bent legs, the fabric over her crotch tenting as something slipped out and then retreated, Tom jumped into action.

“Holy shit!” Tom cursed before running over to his wife. “Oh my god Kate. Talk to me babe, what’s happening?” He wrapped an arm over her upper back and crouched beside the chair, trying to keep his voice calm yet loud enough to be heard over her animalistic grunting.

“Tom…. Mnghhhhh! It’s coming outtttt!!!” Kate cried and disappeared into another pushing grunt.

“Call an ambulance!” Tom shouted at the scared looking Anita. “—No, wait! Help me get her off this chair.”

“Babe,” he said softly to his wife, “listen to me. We need to move you, the baby is coming and I can’t help you like this.”

“Mnghhhhhh!!!! Can’t move!!!!!” Kate clawed at the back of the chair, standing up on wide legs straddling the seat, the baby crowning into her knickers.

“Hold on to me darling, that’s it.” Tom moved Kate’s shaking hands onto his shoulders so her weight was on him instead of the chair. He pulled the padded chair out from beneath Kate’s awkward squatted position, and with strength he didn’t know he possessed, casually tossed the furniture aside so he could stand directly in front of his labouring wife. “Are you alright standing Kate? Or do you want to move positions?”

“Hoooooo oh Tom… I can’t be having the baby here!” Kate mewled.

“We don’t have much of a choice hun.” Tom said with a smile, trying to be a reassuring face in this totally unexpected situation. Looking down he could see the obvious shape of the baby’s head pushed against her underwear. “I think the head is almost out sweetie. We need to get these off.”

Tom tried to shimmy Kate’s panties down while Anita ran off to call the ambulance. His wife was trembling from head to toe, he could feel the shudder of all her muscles beneath his hands as he tugged the underwear down past her hips but her stance was too wide to get them much further.

“Hold on sweetie, I’ve almost got them off.” Tom muttered, ignoring the painful clawing of his wife’s nails as she gripped his shoulders, focusing instead of making room for the emerging baby. Their baby.

“Mhhhhh— oh Tom!!! I need to pushhhhh— I’ve got to PUSHHHH!!!” Kate roared with the force of the contraction that pushed the baby further south, knees dipping to open her hips and make more room for the excruciatingly large shape that was barrelling through.

Tom stretched the fabric of her underwear as far as it would go, pulling it just beyond the apex of her thighs, managing to get his hands between the clothing and his wife. And he felt it, the soft and bloodied surface of their baby’s head stretching his wife wide open. He barely had time to awe at the miracle, his first contact with his child before the head slipped out fully into his palms. Kate sobbed with relief.

“Oh my god honey, the head’s out!” Tom couldn’t wipe the shock and happiness from his face as he held the baby’s crown. “Can you move your legs a little bit, Kate? Your undies are still on.” He said with a laugh.

Nodding, in shock and still catching her breath, Kate moved her legs and after her husband pulled them to her ankles she ungainly stepped out of them. It was the weirdest sensation, moving with a baby still half inside of you. Kate could feel the baby’s head brush against the tops of her thighs but also the kicks that still flexed in her womb. She placed an unsteady hand between her legs and felt her child’s newly born head.

“Hi… hi baby.” Kate murmured, breathing still laboured. “You just couldn’t wait for me to get that massage could you?”

Tom laughed, but then he saw something flash on Kate’s face, signalling a sudden change. “You okay?”

“Unghh…. Oh I think— I think— yup, here comes the shoulders…” Kate groaned and began to sink to her knees, Tom reacted quickly and kept her steady as she lowered to all fours. “Oh fuck!!! Mnghhhhh!!!!!!”

With Kate deep in the midst of the next contraction Tom scrambled on the floor to kneel behind her as the baby slipped further out. One shoulder, two shoulders, and then in a gush of fluid the body and legs shot out of Kate’s body and slipped into Tom’s hands.

“A girl! We have a girl darling!!” Tom blubbed as his daughter coughed her first breath and started crying. “Here she is!” Tom said, handing the newborn to his wife through her legs.

“Oh my god…” Kate sobbed, pulling her baby to her bare chest and rubbing her tiny little back gently. “Look at you… oh my god. You’re perfect.” The tears rolled freely down her cheeks as she stared in fascination at her baby.

Tom picked up a towel from the massage table and placed it around his wife and daughter. Kate looked up at him in shock, tearful, exhausted, unable to say anything but the obvious. “I had the baby.” She whispered. He knelt beside her and lovingly kissed his incredible wife. The paramedics arrived 15 minutes later.

[im-his-druidess]

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

GIF by godzillawillsaveus

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

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

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

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

[jokeringcutio]

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

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

Menstruation Kink – Grabber x Captured!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hanasnx]

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

prompt: #11 + #42

MINORS DNI 18+

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There's more?"

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

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

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

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

"Han!" you scold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"At least let me check somethin'."

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

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

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

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

[save-the-villainous-cat]

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

The villain was slow to circle their prey.

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

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

“I bite harder?” they guessed.

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

“It’s my job.”

“Is it, puppy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t understand those implications.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mydearestknight]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[omo-my-gosh]

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

[onboardsorasora]

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

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

cw: smut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Daniel— please."

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

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

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

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

"Let me–"

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

[fanaticsnail]

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

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

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

(video link, courtesy of @carrotsunshine)

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

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

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

[luna-baby01]

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

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

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

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Your prompt request #13 "not here... not now..."

In the midst of a battle between two kingdoms, you go into labor. While the city breaks into chaos, you try to escape while trying to deny the birth.

Female character can either deliver the child deep in the woods while on the run or hiding in the rubble, trying to keep quiet as she births her child.

You choose! And thank you for choosing to make an account for your wonderful work! Obsessed with your first fic! 🫶

Not Now… Not Here…

[This was one of the first asks/prompts I received and made me so happy to have created this side blog. Thank you so much Anon for your request and your kind words at the end. Hope you enjoy! 💜 Fpreg 2917 words & Beta’d by the wonderful @gravid-transluna ]

Marion stood by the open window in her bedroom, hands braced against the window sill, as she watched the billows of smoke and the sounds of screaming get closer and closer to home. Tensions had been building between Alleria and its neighbouring kingdom for many years and it had only been a matter of time before one of the Kings ordered their troops to attack. The battle had been raging for days… weeks now, with news from the frontlines making it back to the city as the wounded returned. Unfortunately for the residents in Alleria the battleground was moving ever closer towards the city, and for Marion this was even more unfortunate for she was currently deep in the throes of labour.

She gripped the wooden ledge below her window and bounced her knees and hips through the latest contraction.

“Mnnnnhhhhh… oh little one, you have a terrible sense of ti— ohhhhhh… timing.” Marion moaned softly, her hips swaying instinctively as the tightening coursed across her middle while the weight of the baby’s head filled her pelvis.

When the contraction had faded back into a dull ache Marion looked up again at the city slowly falling to the destruction of war. The smoke seemed closer than it had an hour ago, the battleground was heading right across the city in the direction of her home. The pains had started yesterday but were manageable back then - she could continue moving around and getting everything prepared for the birth. The war was far from the city at that point and it did not occur to Marion that she would not be safe to labour and birth here - Alleria had never allowed their borders to be penetrated before, but the invading Kingdom’s forces were too strong.

Marion held the underside of her heavy and tight belly, her thin olive green dress stretched around her enlarged middle. She had never given birth before but had helped in many a delivery around the town. It was a rite of passage for a woman to deliver her children - the men-folk would almost never be present while the labouring mother would be supported by female friends, family or neighbours.

Marion didn’t have any of those but she wasn’t phased to be doing this alone - she preferred things that way. However, as she looked down through her window at the empty and deserted street below, fear and panic began to claw at her thoughts. Perhaps she should flee the city as well. A loud scream and sound of metal against metal echoed through the streets. The battle was getting closer, she needed to leave. Now.

Grabbing a canvas bag Marion quickly threw some items inside; blanket, clothes, water, food. As she was frantically waddling around her small rented room another contraction hit out of nowhere only minutes after the last.

“Hoooooooo— oh fuck….” Marion doubled over and braced her thighs as the pressure and pain skyrocketed. Her pelvis was being pulled apart as the baby’s head shoved its way through, almost certainly at the top of her cervix by now. The immeasurable weight and pressure was overwhelming and Marion found herself grunting against it.

“Mnnghhhh!!!” Marion growled, but the sound was swallowed by a loud explosion coming from a few streets away.

“Ooooh… so— so low. Don’t come now baby, just a— a little bit longer.” She pleaded to her rounded belly, holding it with both hands as she straightened back up. Grabbing her bag of supplies Marion bolted for the door to the stairs at the back of the building. She had to get out of here, get herself far away from the incoming battleground before she delivered this babe.

The stairs were awkward and difficult to descend with her dangerously wide gait from an extremely low baby. But Marion eventually made it down to street level and looked around; there was no one left - everyone had already fled. She waddled as fast as she could in the opposite direction from the rising cries of battle, her hands holding up her taut and tensing belly as if her grip alone could stop her labour. Marion was too busy worrying about safe routes out of the city to realise the next contraction was fast approaching and when it struck she found herself dropping into a deep squat in the middle of the cobbled street.

“Grrrrrrrhhhhh….! Oh Gods… So— so much pressure!” She groaned, her bag of supplies slipping from her shoulder as she squatted and grabbed her knees. Instinctively she mooed and growled her way through the latest wave, each one seeming to strike with more ferocity than the last. Marion would be self-conscious making such a public display of her labouring but with the streets deserted she allowed herself to make whatever noises she needed to get her through the pain of childbirth.

Eventually it passed, but the delay in her movements meant the sounds of battle were only a stone's throw away. The harsh sounds of doors and windows smashing echoed off the buildings and Marion thought she could hear incoming heavy footsteps. If the owners of the heavy stomps were just of Allerian troops then she would be okay but, if they were of the invading forces there was no telling what they would do with a woman wandering alone on the streets. The clinking of swords colliding got louder. Both troops were getting closer. Marion could not get caught in the crossfire - she’d be as good as dead.

She ran, as fast as her wide legs could carry her, away from the brutal fighting. She barely made it round the corner down a narrow side street when she was forced to stop once more. Slumped against the brick wall, Marion curled around her hard belly and trembled as she struggled to stay upright. The heavy boulder of a baby’s head was right there, filling her birth canal with so much pressure she thought she might explode. There was no stopping the primal grunt that rattled her throat as every muscle seemed to contract and squeeze the baby towards its exit.

“Nnghhhhh!!!” She roared against the pain and it was immediately followed by a gush of warm liquid running down her thighs and splashing the beige cobbles underfoot. At the tail end of the contraction she felt it - deep in her genes an instinct was telling her to start pushing.

“No….” She whimpered. “Not now… not here… hoohoo-hoohoo…” Marion panted erratically, fighting against her body’s advancing labour.

When the contraction somewhat eased the mother-to-be staggered bowlegged down the deserted side street, the large head shoving its way through her cervix. She made it through to the next street over but Marion had no clue where she was going, no planned destination she was trying to reach. Instead she was just desperately waddling as far away as she could from the noise of battle. She thought she had more time to find an alternate place to give birth but the increasing weight and pressure between her legs was soon proving her wrong. Out in the open of this new street she doubled over against a shop window - palms flat on the glass, her hips jutting backwards and her heavy belly hanging towards the floor.

“Ohhhhhh… no, don’t push… don’t— mnghhh don’t p-p-push…” she chanted over and over, panting and sweating and shaking while the baby inside sank lower and lower.

Running and shouting and screaming could be heard from the end of the street. Marion, still caught in the midst of a powerful contraction, glanced down the road towards the sound and saw at least a dozen men rounding the corner. Their metal plated armour, the colours of their tunics, their pale faces - none of it was familiar. These were enemy soldiers. The labouring mother slipped around a corner to hide down another side street, her legs stuck so wide it looked like she was about to drop the kid any second. And it felt that way too. With one hand holding onto the wall, the other disappeared under her dress between her thighs. No baby yet, thankfully, but she was starting to bulge into her underwear.

Deep and gruff shouting echoed from the high street, the invading warriors were jeering and smashing everything in their path. Despite the continuing contraction, Marion shuffled a little further into the alleyway, into the shadows and tried to hide behind some broken wooden crates. The soldiers were shouting in a language she didn’t understand, but the tone of their rough voices were clear - they were winning this war.

One… three… seven… Marion looked through the gap in the crates counting the foreign soldiers as they stomped past the entrance to the narrow side street, the burly and primitive men kicking and smashing and destroying every single thing they passed.

The next contraction ramped up before the last had even faded away and Marion slapped a hand over her mouth to stop any sounds escaping. Her baby was insistent, desperate to be born. The pressure screamed at her to push and her stance instinctively widened, but as she moved her foot she kicked something hard and metal sending it tumbling across the cobbles with a clang.

Her heart stopped, her breathing seized. Marion’s eyes flared with panic and looked nervously through the gap in the wooden crates towards the entrance of the side street. There was no way that sound wasn’t noticeable, a second later Marion’s fears were realised when two strange looking men stood at the archway of the dark sidestreet, staring into the shadows looking for the source of the noise.

Push!

Marion stayed perfectly still, her hand squeezed over her mouth, her nose breathing as silently as humanly possible. She could not let them find her, Gods only knew what they would do to her, especially if they had conquered Alleria.

Push!

The contraction still tore across her body, her belly contorted into a solid, hard ball beneath her dress as it tried to deliver the child. The pressure between her thighs was making her eyes water, the weight was pulling everything downwards, and her vagina was starting to burn. And yet Marion remained still, not moving an inch.

Push!

The men were talking to themselves, grumbling incoherently in their foreign tongue, pointing and staring down the narrowed cobbled strip. Marion’s legs were trembling, her knees sinking, and as she held her breath in fear of discovery she realised too late that her body was pushing. Without instruction or permission the baby was shoved down the birth canal, feeling like it was seconds away from falling into her underwear. But she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself from bearing down. Behind her sweaty palm Marion’s mouth opened in a silent scream as she pushed and immediately could feel her labia starting to part beneath her clothing.

Oh fuck! Marion thought, trying to stop the impossible. Please don’t come out now!

She fought against her instincts for the longest minute of her life, desperately trying not to push and trying to stay silent. Eventually the strange men lost interest, deciding nothing was hiding down this side street, and continued to ransack the surrounding shops with their fellow soldiers. Marion slumped back against the wall when the soldier's departure coincided with the slight easing of the contraction. With heavy breaths quieter than a whisper, she tried to regain a normal rhythm in her lungs.

This baby could not be born now, here, it had to hold on for her to get somewhere safe. Away from the carnage of war and away from her foes. Then there was a sudden bang, a moving wall of heat, and a victorious cheer coming from the adjacent street - the enemy had started burning buildings causing a giant explosion.

Debris flew through the air, shards of brick and building raining from the skies and Marion spun around, curling around her bump, to protect herself and the baby. She staggered, bowlegged, deeper down the dark alleyway to try to get away from the destruction but with the contractions almost on top of each other she barely made four unsteady steps before she had to pause. The baby was right there, she could feel it. Her hand dived between her legs to check and felt with her fingertips the spherical shape between her folds peaking into her undergarments. The primal need to give birth took over once more and whether she wanted to or not, Marion found herself bearing down with the contraction.

This baby could not be born, not now and not here. If she could not stop pushing she would have to find another way. With her hand wedged between her thighs she clamped it firmly over the mass in her sodden underwear, and with a low grunt she was uncontrollably pushing against the palm of her own hand.

“Nnghhhh— noooo.. don’t c-come o-outtttt…” she growled, her body pushing ferociously and she could feel the head slip forward.

In the shadows Marion grunted and heaved and pushed. Against these efforts she tried to keep her palm over the emerging head to prevent it coming out any further. Her legs were wide and trembling, the heavy mass between her hips forcing her pelvis apart. It was hell, being stuck like this, her labia stretching around the emerging head, the desperate need to get this over with - to deliver this baby. The placement of her own hand proved futile, her body outright refusing to do anything that could delay or prevent the birth. Instead her knees buckled, sinking into a deep squat, and her free hand flew forward to brace her labouring body against the rough bricks of the dark alley while the other hand cupped the head of the incoming babe.

“Ohhhhh fuck…” her groans barely audible, all efforts going into birth. “Oh Gods… help me… it’s coming— it’s coming o-outtt!”

The hand at the apex of her thighs was supporting the head rather than stopping it from coming out. She gasped, sucking in a desperate breath, and leaned into the push giving everything she had into bearing down. She sobbed as the head reached a full crown in her underwear, its large shape undeniable and filling her small palm. The clothing was damp and stretched but she couldn’t remove them, both hands were occupied - one holding her upright in the squat the other holding the emerging head. “Grrnnnhhhhh!!” The low and primal groan of effort rattled the back of her throat and ever so slowly the head was born into her palm.

Smoke was filling the city, homes and shops were on fire, the enemy’s army was tearing her home apart. Loud and sudden blasts echoed down the alleyway, shaking the streets and buildings all around her. Marion fell forward, scrambling on all fours to get away from danger, all the while her baby’s head hung from her body filling her underwear. The rough cobbled street grazed and cut her knees as she crawled further down the side street, desperate to find some shelter. Fluids were leaking from her opening leaving a trail of damp in her wake. She found a door, indented slightly into the brick wall. She tried the handle but it was locked. A cry of fear and frustration left her lungs as she pounded and pushed against the wooden door.

The baby wasn’t waiting for safety or shelter, the next contraction was soon taking hold and she rocked on all fours in the alcove, humming an instinctual noise as the baby’s shoulders started to press against her opening.

“D-don’t…. No….” Marion panted and pleaded with her body.

But her hips sank backwards and she was uncontrollably pushing once more, grunting with every wave as her body worked on expelling the child. “Mnnnghhhhhhh it— it’s coming… I can’t— stop p-p-pushingggggg!!!”

Marion clawed at the door bringing herself up on her knees as the shoulders stretched her opening wide. The baby was waiting for no one and it was coming out right into her underwear. Her fingernails dug deep into the wooden door, her hips sinking towards the floor and she roared with the effort of bearing down, of pushing the baby’s shoulders out of her body. She could feel everything as it slipped out - one shoulder, the next shoulder, its arms and hands and torso as it emerged into her undergarments. Marion managed to prise her hands from the door and scrambled with her clothing to free the path for her baby to enter this world. Pulling the underwear down a few inches she grunted with the desperate final push and the baby suddenly slipped from her body into her hands.

“Ahhh oh Gods… you’re here, you’re out….” Marion gasped, pulling the newborn straight to her chest and sitting back onto her heels. “Hello little one.” The baby shifted and squirmed in her arms and released the softest cry of a first breath.

Exhausted, Marion turned and slumped against the doorway, babe in arms. The sound of crying soon travelled down the side street and footsteps approached. Fear filled Marion’s heart, the enemy was approaching and both she and her baby were defenceless.

“Oh my goodness, is that a baby?” Came a gruff voice above her. She looked up frightened, but when she saw the familiar uniform colour and the warm caramel skin of an Allerian soldier Marion let out a relieved sob.

“Come on Miss, I’ll get you and your baby out of here.” He said kindly.

[im-his-druidess]

Hope you like it! 😊💙

GIF by leatherfacefan-1974

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

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

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

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

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

And then I pick...

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

[fem-boy-toy]

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

Twins? Triplets? Or even more…

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

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

And then just more and more each pregnancy~😍

[bang-bang-gang]

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

[trudemaethien]

for the prompts:

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

Ship: Mereel/Atin

Words: freighter, root, biography

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

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

One had not.

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

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

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

Seems he hasn’t been subtle enough in watching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[omo-my-gosh]

character who occasionally wets the bed + character who insists that everyone stay hydrated + night out at a bar drinking = ???