#rapid labour

[my-moo-moo]

ground zero alien invasion

You made a grave mistake having sex with an alien one time. 

You don’t remember much of the experience. Only flashes of memories remain, brief and disjointed. You normally weren’t someone to engage in one night stands, but the man you met told you it was his only day in town and you just couldn’t miss this opportunity. 

And so you remember stumbling home drunk from the club with the hottest man you’ve ever attracted. You shrunk away in surprise when you felt his ice cold fingers around your waist, but his dazzling smile pulled you back again. One moment you have your eyes closed, writhing with each lick of a tongue teasing at your entrance. A slobbering kiss on your neck makes your eyes peel wide open again. It then came upon you that you were in fact not being eaten out this entire time. Instead, your one night stand was replaced by a blue-skinned alien with its tentacle-like appendage part way into your pussy. 

Before you turn into full-fledged panic, he whispers foreign words into your ear and pushes deeper into you, splitting you apart with the girthy part of his cock. Thoughts of leaving go down the drain as he begins to make you feel better than any date has ever achieved, penetrate you deeper than has ever been explored. Even if you weren't hallucinating, what would be so wrong with having a sex with an alien?

The last thing you remember is screaming as he breaches through your cervix.

For the entire morning immediately following, you question your mentality— whether you had been lucid dreaming, or you were tripping balls. Your body had felt bloated and achy, like your insides had been thoroughly rearranged— something that you wrote off as a result of the rough sex last night.

You were only forced out of bed by the intense rumbling of your stomach. You fight the wave of exhaustion to make yourself a hearty lunch. Perhaps you had a little too much food because you needed to untie the drawstring of your sweatpants afterwards.

As you finish cleaning up your kitchen, you accidentally bump your abdomen against the countertop. You flinch back and your hands fly over the afflicted spot. Just then you are made aware of the fact that your belly curves underneath your palm. You rush to the bathroom to look at yourself properly in the mirror. Your eyes widen at the sight. You’ve never seen yourself get this bloated before.

You poke at the strange mass attached to your waist— it's solid and cold to the touch. You swear your breasts look bigger than when you wear your most padded pushup bra. You don’t know how long you stand there transfixed by your own reflection. You swear every time you take a breath in, your belly expands a bit more, and it doesn’t retract down when you breathe out. 

Your brain tries to sort through all the explanations of what’s happening to you, but it keeps leading to the same absurd conclusion that couldn’t possibly be real. There’s one blaring conclusion that keeps coming up, but it’s so absurd that you’d sooner believe that you were dying of an unknown disease. 

The only thing you can think of doing was going to the emergency room. It’s not surprising when the nurses don’t take your concerns seriously and put you in the back of the waiting list. As you wait in the uncomfortable plastic chair, you continue to grow without halt. You’re forced to watch your belly go from being just perfectly tucked underneath your t-shirt to spilling underneath the hem and pushing your thighs apart. Some people, who’ve been there as long as you have, begin to double take your appearance. 

When a new nurse comes in for a shift, you had to grab the opportunity. You clutch your underbelly and waddle yourself down the hall to the fastest of your capabilities to flag her attention. She looks your heavily pregnant body up and down and immediately her first question is to ask if you’re in labour. You have no idea what that would entail, but you spit out yes, and you’ve been waiting for hours already.

Things move quickly thereafter with you getting sent to get an ultrasound. Finally, you’ll get the answers you’ve been waiting for. 

“How far along are you?” the doctor asks you. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I woke up this morning and I just blew up… like a… like a balloon… in one day! Aren’t you the doctor here?” you stammer without making much sense. 

She looks at you incredulously and her eyes only widen when she looks back at the ultrasound screen. 

“Well… you are certainly pregnant,” she starts. 

“Oh…” Your heart falls to the ground. You knew this was a possibility but hearing it confirmed makes the dire reality set in. You’re having a baby. “Is it… healthy?” you ask. 

The doctor doesn’t answer your question, instead seems to be rendered speechless as her eyes dart around monitoring the screen. 

When she finally looks back at you, she is literally shaking from head to toe. “What the hell is in your womb?” she shoots at you with malice underlying each syllable. 

“I told you… I don’t know,” you whisper. It was then you felt a tumbling within your belly as if your baby was greeting you. Your arm wraps around your belly, a surge of protectiveness rising over you even though you’ve barely processed the news of being pregnant. 

“We need to burn that thing with fire,” she seethes, 

You promptly clammer off the hospital bed. You grab the nearest scalpel and waves in front of you like a maniac. “Don’t touch me!” You don’t know where that confidence came from because you’ve always been afraid to even run a red light.

The doctor backs away in fear, and tries to reason with you more cautiously, “Didn't you come here wanting to stop whatever was happening to you? 

You shake your head. You had forgotten why you had come here at all and all that was clear to you was that you would do anything to protect the baby in your belly. 

“We need to run more tests to see what is growing inside you,” she tries to reason, but you don’t trust her any longer. She makes the grave mistake of reaching out to grab you, prompting you to puncture her in the arm. Fresh red blood sprays onto your hand and you panic. 

Escaping the yells from behind, you clutch your now heavy overdue belly and stammer out of the hospital, barely stopping to breathe despite the baby already restricting your lungs. You speed all the way home and you don’t stop until you get home and bolted your door and all your windows. 

Finally, you catch up on your breathing and head over to your mirror again. When you left the house a mere couple of hours ago, you looked like you could possibly be sporting a beer belly or maybe in your second trimester, but now it was undeniable to any stranger that you were very pregnant. It would now be more of a question of when you were going to pop or if you were carrying two. 

Either way, you are convinced you are going into labour soon. Though you don’t feel any contractions yet, your skin is tight as a drum already and your pelvis feels like it’s going to bust under all the weight. You could not fathom possibly getting larger. There is just  no way. 

Utterly exhausted by the events of the day, you resign to lying down in your bed. You’re waiting for any sign of labour, before you lose the battle to sleep. 

Pacing around your living room, you wait for the first sign of labour. At any moment you should either feel contractions tighten around your abdomen or water leaking down your legs. Instead you continue to grow outwards, resembling more like you are carrying twins. You stripped off all your clothing at this point, annoyed by how restricting it felt against your ever growing body. 

It wasn’t too long before you were jolted awake by the intense pressure on your bladder. You groan as the baby inside you makes the situation worse by a strong kick. When you finally peel your eyes open, you can barely comprehend the sight before you. Never have you ever seen such a gravid belly on anyone let alone yourself. You made a grave mistake closing your eyes briefly and now your belly is hanging out part way off the edge of your mattress. Essentially pinned down into your soft mattress, you grunt to push your heavy torso upright. You try to leverage yourself against your bed frame, on your elbows, with the edge of the mattress— all with futile success. There was a deep-seeded fear for a while that you were going to be stuck in that spot forever. Fortunately, minutes of struggle lead to eventually succumbing to sliding your body off the bed like a beaching whale, with it your bladder losing in the battle.

Regardless, you are determined to waddle yourself to the bathroom to see the state of your soiled body. Given how insanely top and front heavy you are, you need to hold yourself against the wall to avoid toppling over. You feel your thighs tremble and your hips crack with each tiny step forward. 

A wave of accomplishment washes over you when you finally make it in front of your bathroom mirror. The remnants of your old self lie in the blood stained t-shirt that has ridden up your torso to resemble more of a sports bra. Your belly has grown outward so far that the sheer weight of it began pulling the mass down to your mid thighs. When you wrap your arms around yourself, your fingertips could barely touch your non-existent belly button. Your skin has been stretched thin like a balloon, so transparent that you could see the web of blue veins underneath.

Although the baby in your belly has grown unrestrictedly minute after minute, the rest of your body has barely kept up to sustain. Fear sets in as you contemplate how you’re going to possibly birth this massive baby out your unprepared pelvis. 

Before you are left wondering any longer, you feel a gush of water trail down your legs. It couldn’t have been your already emptied bladder. 

Just over 24 hours after your encounter with the alien, the price of your horny decisions come back to bite you in the ass in the form of a big-headed alien baby splitting your pelvis in half. 

You scream at the top of your lungs as you give one last battle push. You feel the sweet relief of pressure as the baby gushes out of you at once. Umbilical cord still attached, you drag the baby up onto your deflating stomach. The baby doesn’t resemble you at all. Its eyelids are still shut, skin is a sickly translucent blue and limbs resemble tentacles. 

There’s no time to question if the baby is healthy because it begins crawling up your body on its own until it stops at your nipple. It begins suckling without any assistance at all, as if it was completely natural for a human to mother an alien species. 

There wasn’t much time to process before your body is wracked with another wave of contractions. You had thought it might be the afterbirth, until you felt another large skull lodge into your cervix.

You smile as you cradle your baby closer to your chest and start pushing again. 

.

You hum to your babies as they suckle out of both your tits. They’ve already put on double the weight since you’ve given birth and you already feel bittersweet that they’re growing up too fast. 

You can walk without feeling pain anymore and your outrageous belly has thankfully gone down. It’s not completely flat like pre-pregnancy, but you’re grateful you got your two babies out of your strong body. 

You pass your hand over your belly reminiscing about waking up being pregnant. It wasn’t too long ago, but it feels just like it... You run your hands back over realizing you are more bloated than before. 

You refuse to believe it until an hour later, you are clearly sporting a pregnant belly like you had woken up with before. There’s no way you could be pregnant again when you haven’t had sex since that one time with the alien. 

And yet, you continue to progress in growth like deja vu. Whilst you were freaking out, you forgot about the babies you had already birthed. You look everywhere, turning the house upside down until your pregnant belly grows so enormous it prohibits you from moving. 

Your babies were gone like the wind and it was hitting you harder than expected. You hadn’t wanted to get pregnant, but now these babies are your whole life. Your grief only wanes when you are hit with contractions once again. 

You will quickly realize your role. Your babies will grow up and leave your nest, but soon enough there is going to be another litter of babies for you to take care of. 

.

You get into a routine, not knowing how many weeks have passed, nor what was happening in the world outside your little nest. 

....Until one day you open your local news channel, and you find out you haven’t been alone in your experience. 

The first official reporting happened right here in our small town, but the doctor was brushed off because of absurdity. The reports of rapid pregnancies have since risen to the thousands and the CDC is now calling it an alien invasion. 

These aliens can disguise themselves as humans and we have no way of picking them apart. They are capable of infecting all the eggs in your ovaries with a single sexual encounter. After birth, they can mature into productive adults in a weeks time. We estimate that there may be 500,000 adults hiding amongst us in the United States alone.

Currently available contraceptives on the market are not effective in prevention. As a precaution, avoid sexual intimacy with all individuals. 

Symptoms of infection include rapid pregnancy in a 24 hour framework. New pregnancies will continue in succession, and as of this moment, we do not have a cure without harming the carrier’s life. 

Infected individuals may display behaviours of violence. They will lay down their life to protect their babies. Please approach with caution. 

Realization then comes upon you that you might have been ground zero for an alien invasion.

#birth kink #labour kink #pregnancy kink #pregnancy fic #birth denial #multiples #my fic #rapid pregnancy #hyperpregnancy #mpreg #fpreg #nbpreg

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

There's so new little stuff in the tag for Shin but I am very tired.

#I don't want to just abandon him #and I am very grateful to the ten or so people who read my work #but like... it's such a labour of love at this point #and I worry if I only ever write for him and Carla my writing will go stale #I apologise for the rapid fire posting #I'm going to bed now I promise

[seaglassandeelgrass]

made the mistake of not taking prophylactic ibuprofen before going to bed and now it's midnight and i can feel myself fossilizing

#and i actually streeeeeetched and all #~shockingly~ awkwardly squatting in harness being buffeted by wind for hours on end to do seizings #leads to significant protest being lodged by one's... well everything really #while i may love physically demanding jobs and manual labour. my knees. do not. nor my back. nor my split knuckles. #sunburn. blisters. piebald-bruised legs. torn nails. #genuinely wouldn't trade it for the world though #particularly rapid unintelligible patter

[unknownentry404]

Population Shrinking/Aging 🤝 Modern Tech Advancements

Hot take but: less “manual labour jobs,” more career change training jobs and apprenticeships, more innovation, more pay, more automation, better working conditions and less working hours? (Maybe even, one day, PROPER Socialism?? Gasp)

#just #the answers are right there #yes #we gotta work on making energy more greeen too #and reversing climate change #but that is also not counter intuitive #have more people working on that in fact #than other back breaking labour #the fact we have both rapid unemployment AND a lack of people in jobs is crazy to me #have more apprenticeships and learning jobs #normalise and incentivise career change options #rant

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {9}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: You finally find out just how perfect your boyfriends are as birthing partners. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, all the birthing glory one can expect (it’s not a pretty thing irl) WC: 3.3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine NAV: Away We Go One

You woke up to too much warmth but the thrill that shot through you washed away all lingering sense of sleep. Charles and Lando were curled around you having arrived home sometime during the night, replacing the giant Pokemon teddy that was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor beside Lando. 

“Lan,” you whispered, gently shaking his shoulder. A deep groan exhaled with a snore before he slowly blinked his eyes open and found you grinning down at him. “There’s my Winner.”

His smile was drowsy as he rolled onto his back and pulled you into his arms so your head could rest on his chest. His steady heartbeat thumped against your ear and you didn’t realise how quiet the nights had been without hearing that sound beneath your head. 

“Did it for you, babe.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm, I had to do something big to make sure you didn’t forget me while we were gone.”

“Showoff.” You giggled and draped a leg over his, cozying up as much as you comfortably could. “I missed you.”

“Missed you. Glad to see you are in one piece too. I knew my little girl would wait patiently for us to get home.” Lando carefully unwrapped himself from you and shuffled down the bed, brushing up the oversized Quadrant shirt you had stolen from his new merch line. “You can come out anytime now, sweetheart. The sooner the better, if you are ready. Please be ready.”

Lando waited a moment to see if he would get a kick in response but there was nothing and he sighed as he flopped back onto the pillow. “Silent treatment already.”

“She’s probably still sleeping,” you said as you kissed his disappointed frown. “You should go back to sleep too, baby.”

You carefully climbed over him but he caught your hips and trapped you straddling him. You couldn’t see clear enough in the dim light but you were sure his eyes were darkening as he hummed happily. “Can’t sleep with you teasing me like that.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I was trying to get up to go pee.” You wiggled enough for him to bite his lip before swinging your leg off and dashing to the bathroom while he groaned at the loss of your body. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” you heard him whine as you closed the door. You would not miss the rapid fire bathroom breaks that came with the last trimester, that was for certain. 

The relief of emptying your bladder was short lived as you wiped and the loud sound of disgust you made had a thump sounding on the bedroom floor before quick feet sprinted into the bathroom, busting the door wide open. Lando squinted against the bright light before finding you still sat on the toilet with the tissue paper still in your hand. 

“What’s wrong? Is that blood? Shit, Charles!”

“Stop!” you hissed before he woke your mother up from her room down the hall. “It’s not…blood…at least I don’t think so…”

Charles skidded into the bathroom looking absolutely dishevelled as he tried to take in what he was seeing. “Amour, what’s wrong?”

“I think I’ve lost my mucus plug.”

“Mucus plug…” he murmured, rubbing his tired eyes as he mentally scanned the pregnancy books he had read with Lando. 

“Yes!” Lando shouted, his hand turning to an enthusiastic fist. “That means you might be going into labour soon.”

Charles’ eyes widened with excitement and they embraced each other with a laugh, proudly chatting about how their daughter was a good girl waiting for them to come home. 

“Excuse me,” you interrupted, clearing your throat. “Can I have some privacy?”

They looked a little sheepish and backed out of the bathroom, closing the door so you could finish your routine. It was only when you were washing your hands, facing yourself in the mirror that you saw the excitement in your own eyes. Praying the old wives tale was right, you dried your hands and stepped back into the bedroom. 

The bedside lamps glowed warmly and a cosy space was created for you on a mountain of pillows between the two men who nearly vibrated with anticipation. “Please don’t get your hopes up, it may still take days,” you said as you crawled up the bed.

“I know,” Lando replied while he fretted about getting the pillows in the right place to support your back and belly, as well as one between your knees. “You should try get as much sleep as possible while you can.”

Charles smiled at the doting father-to-be, falling even more in love with him. Lando had always been portrayed as the carefree one and the most immature driver on the grid, but this was the side the tv show never aired. Lando was a caretaker and a homemaker at heart, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for those he loved. 

When Lando looked up after tucking the blankets in around you he found Charles staring at him and lifted a brow in question. Charles just smiled and shook his head. “I am the luckiest man.” 

A smirk kicked up on Lando’s lips as he pointedly looked over you and him. “Debatable.”

“We are the luckiest men,” Charles compromised with a laugh before brushing his knuckles softly over your relaxed face. 

“Yes, we are.”

“Charles, can you come help me?” 

The shower was steaming up after spending the last 15 minutes unsuccessfully shaving. The cloud of steam cleared out when he opened the glass door but as soon he saw the position you had got yourself into he barked out a laugh that drew Lando into the bathroom too. 

“Har-har, laugh it up,” you drawled. “I’m not having my baby’s first introduction to the world through a forest, now can one of you please help me?”

“Mon amour, I am sure women were giving birth before these were invented,” he said as he accepted the bright pink razor with an uncertain look on his face. “You don’t have to…uh…landscape.”

“Lando, will you please get rid of this bush before I call in the professionals?”

He was still eyeing up the length of your leg you had managed to kick up onto the lowest recessed shelf that had a few half empty bottles of shampoos knocked over. Even with the position you hadn’t been able to reach around your belly to get to the place you wanted to. “Who are the professionals?” he asked curiously as he took the razor off Charles and got down on his knees. “Kika?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll never understand female friendships,” Charles chuckled, leaning back against the tiled wall to critique Lando. Your main focus was on balancing and keeping as still as possible because you did not want to get cut in such a delicate area - though it couldn’t be worse than what you had read about episiotomies during delivery. “Shave with the hair, same direction.”

“Sorry, not all of us have to shave daily,” Lando muttered sarcastically before holding the razor out. “Why don’t you do it then?”

Charles rolled his eyes but took it and knelt beside Lando. “Can you…?” You couldn’t see what he gestured to Lando but you got a fair idea when you felt Lando’s hands working with Charles to keep the skin taut, and mortifyingly, when he parted your folds to get the stray hairs that grew there. 

“I never want to talk about this,” you said as they both rose up and shared a laugh. 

“You might want to start trying to kick start labour then,” Lando teased. “You have about five days before it’s time for another trim.”

“If you have any ideas, I am all ears.”

As it turned out, his idea to kick starting labour was actually what had got you pregnant in the first place. Though you felt breathless and bloated, sex was a good way of distracting yourself of what was going to come because whether you were ready or not, a baby could not stay in utero forever. 

“Are you sure?” Charles asked when Lando suggested turning the lights down low and locking the bedroom door. They were both more than eager to reacquaint themselves with your body after being away but Charles was certain Lando had just made it up as an excuse to get laid. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I know I’m horny but it’s also true.”

You had let them towel dry you after washing away the shaving cream and let them bicker about the merits of the idea while you climbed onto the bed. You had been planning on getting up for the day after your shower but now that you were again in the soft sheets you realised how much more comfortable it was on your back. 

“...nipple stimulation, see, says it right here.”

You did a small ab crunch to peek over your stomach and saw Lando and Charles comparing their phones, but the small pressure the movement put on your belly caused a strange sensation between your legs. Warm liquid leaked over your thighs and onto the sheets and you thought you couldn’t get anymore embarrassed as you scrunched the sheets tight around your body. 

“Can I have a moment alone?” you asked quietly, their faces freezing at the question that interrupted their discussion on best positions to start with.

“Pourquoi? You know it won’t hurt the baby, you don’t have to worry, amour.”

“It’s not that,” you muttered, self-consciously hiding deeper in the covers.

“Don’t be shy, baby, you are still the most beautiful woman.”

You swallowed twice with your dry throat and shook your head as tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Please?”

“Non, what’s wrong?” They both stepped closer and froze when you cried even more, confusion, hurt, worry all flitting across their faces.

“I wet myself,” you whispered as you hid your face, “and I can’t move.”

Their phones were abandoned, all thoughts of lust erased for good reason as you waited for disgust to replace it. “You run the shower and I’ll change the sheets,” Charles said, taking charge. “Come on, amour, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I can’t move,” you said with a vehement shake of your head. “It keeps leaking out.”

“Uh, baby,” Lando said as he reached for the sheets clutched in your hands. “That sounds like your waters have broken.”

The plans changed quickly when you finally loosened your grip enough to let Lando pull them away. The damp spot was much smaller than your mind had made you believe but when they helped you to stand up a full torrent of it gushed out. 

“Yup, time to call the midwife,” Lando said aloud as he confirmed you wouldn’t have to die of embarrassment. 

“On it,” Charles answered as he made the call while getting dressed. Lando still followed his first order and helped you back to the shower while Charles spoke in French, too quick for you to understand. 

By the time you had been washed for the second time in under an hour Charles had gathered the hospital bag and laid out some clothes for you and Lando. The bedsheets had also been stripped and dumped in the corner of the room but you still spotted the wet patch on the carpet beside the bed. 

“I’ll have someone clean it up before we get home,” Charles assured you with a kiss to your temple. “We should go tell your mother that it’s time.”

She reacted as expected, a squeal of happiness, a strong hug, a touch of worry, before more excited laughs. Parking at the hospital was always a nightmare so the plan was for her to drop you off outside the maternity ward and go to Pascale’s to wait for updates with her. 

Phones rang and messages beeped to the point you told everyone to put their phones on silent. As much as you were happy to hear the best wishes and updated on Lando’s family travelling from England, the sounds were messing with your concentration. 

It didn't feel like long but by the time you were dressed, the car was packed, you had chosen your snacks and your immediate family were contacted, almost two hours had passed. In those two hours the tight feeling in your back was getting more painful and no matter what position you were in, sitting or standing, there was no easing the aching pressure on your belly.

“Baby, come see this,” Lando called out, pointing to Max’s apartment. You shuffled your way to him with Charles offering his arm to steady your steps and found a large banner spread across your brother’s balcony. 

MODE: PUSH!

Despite the pain, you laughed as you saw him waving from the other tower apartment. You waved back before letting Charles guide you back inside. You took one last look around the apartment as you headed to the front door, knowing the next time you stepped foot inside it would no longer be just the three of you. The next time you returned, everything would change.

It seemed too easy. The hours passed by with the numbing assistance of gas and air, and the shadows crossed the room as morning turned to afternoon. The birthing pool became your favourite space to relax until you were a wrinkled prune. Floating in the tepid water took the weight of your belly off your spine and Charles had a cloth that he dipped in and used to wipe the sweat from your forehead.

“Open up, baby,” Lando said softly as he took a seat at the edge of the oversized bath and held a fresh ice chip up to your lips.

Doctor Turner had arrived not long after the hospital midwives had settled you into the room and announced you were 5cm dilated. You thought that meant you were halfway but time seemed to slow in response. The doctor that had been your regular OB GYN since moving to Monaco was happy to take a backseat and let Lando and Charles take care of you. She actually seemed quite impressed with them, not as much as you were.

“Is it okay if we dim the lights?” Lando asked. He had noticed your eyes squinting against the harsh fluorescents overhead and Doctor Turner reached for the switch that was behind her makeshift desk she had taken up by the door. Her hand jotted down notes, twisting her wrist to check the time on her watch before writing more.

“That’s better,” you sighed as you opened your eyes and looked up at your boyfriends. “It’s a shame there’s no jets in this jacuzzi.”

Charles chuckled and dragged the wet cloth over your shoulders and collar. “You make this sound like a spa date, ma chérie.”

“You didn’t happen to bring a face mask, did you?” you teased.

“Sorry, wasn’t on the checklist,” Lando replied with a snort. “Do you want music on again?”

“I never would have pegged you to be a mother hen,” you murmured as you shook your head and smiled. “I’m okay right now.”

Another hour passed and that calm state soon came to an end as the contractions grew stronger, strong enough to take your breath away, and Charles had to remind you to inhale and exhale slowly. The plastic pipe full of gas started to dent beneath your gritted teeth as you bit down with each contraction and groaned deeply. The sound had Doctor Turner rising from her chair to check how far along you were.

Your self consciousness had recessed to the back of your mind as you focused solely on what you body was doing. It was almost the same tunnel vision you had when you were racing and the rest of the world faded away from the track in front of you. You didn’t even blink when her gloved hand dipped into the water and disappeared between your legs.

“Would you like to move to the bed? You’ll be ready to push soon.”

You shook your head as another wave of pressure clamped down on your abdominal muscles, contorting them until it felt like they were going to snap. Just as quickly as it came on the contraction ended and the pain vanished as you slumped back against the pool edge. Water splashed over the lip but Charles and Lando didn’t even notice as they flexed their hands you had clenched tight.

“Can I stay in here?”

“Of course,” she said with a reassuring smile as she took her gloves off. “We are going to do whatever is most comfortable for you.”

She went back to add the latest note to her records but rather than sitting down she returned back to the edge of the bath, a fresh pair of gloves on her hands and a towel on her lap.

“When you said soon…?” you trailed off as another painful contraction began and it felt like your body was going to split in two.

“Do you feel the urge to push?” she asked as she leaned over the edge to look.

You couldn’t answer her as your feet found purchase on the bath walls and braced, your body bearing down on its own accord. An arm curled under each of yours, holding you up as you pushed with more effort than any of the workouts Kristian had ever put you through.

“Lovely head of dark hair,” she said with a grin as the contraction ended and both of your boyfriends couldn’t resist taking a peek.

For all his bravado at preparing himself, Lando blanched a bit and they both shot back up.

“When the next contraction starts, I want you to give me a really big push, okay?”

You were exhausted, and you were sweating. God, you hated how it clung to your skin and warmed with your body heat. You just wanted to sleep.

“You’re doing great, Spitfire. It’s nearly over. Just a little more, baby.”

Charles washed your face and neck with cool water, and you realised you had spoken aloud.

There was no warning or build up as your muscles contracted and you folded over yourself, crunching up as you screwed your eyes closed and pushed. It felt futile. All the effort of the last couple of hours had nothing to show and you didn’t think you were anywhere near being finished. The painful stretch between your legs had you ready to tap out and ask for something stronger but then the pressure flooded from you and the breath you held whooshed out with it.

“Here she is,” Doctor Turner exclaimed as she lifted the tiny form out of the water and carefully laid her on your chest before draping the warm towel over the both of you. She gently rubbed your daughter and by the third pat a warbling cry filled the air.

It was only then that you could breathe. Suddenly you were present once again in your body and you could hear the soft cries echoed by Lando and Charles’ happy sniffles.

“She’s beautiful,” you whispered through your hoarse throat.

As if she recognised your voice, her little eyes peeked open and her cries settled. Flecks of gold broke through a myriad of green shades reminding you of when summer ended and the trees began to change colour and fall.

“Did you have a name picked out?”

You shook your head, unable to tear your eyes away from hers until your vision blurred and you had to blink away the tears. “I think I know one.”

“Yeah?” Lando asked as he carefully caressed her cheek like she was the most precious thing in the world. “What is it?”

“Autumn.” You looked up to see them both smiling at the name, your heart doing a little jump. “Autumn Norris-Leclerc.”

“It’s perfect, mon amour,” Charles agreed with a nod as he kissed your temple. “Princesse Autumn.”

“Ha!” Lando suddenly exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention to him and his proud grin - but it was aimed at Charles. “Told you my pullout game was better than yours.”

Click here for the next part.

#charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic

[beescake]

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

or

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

#ask #anon #sollux captor #homestuck #hs2 spoilers #2023 #vioart #hs2 sollux explaining girls and bitches to john: 🗣️🗣️🗣️ #mr foods‚ setting up the visuals: LMAO ok pause. cool story bro theyre all gone its just u n ur sandwich bro. #now that i think abt it sol's kind of a toaster? awkwardly takes up countertop space #lacks the versatility and sociability of an air fryer/pressure cooker. unwashed and littered w crumbs! #but sometimes the clear‚ frank simplicity of the toaster is a temporary lifesaver for ppl who struggle w low appetite / decision fatigue #or ppl who just have a habit of eating toast for breakfast LOL #and eh ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ even if u dont feel like toasting today thats ok he's still gonna be sitting there 👍👍 #a funnyman..... i curse him in my pan but root for him in my biscuit 🫶

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico wakes up to gagging and a soft glow coming from the bathroom.

His first thought is, bizarrely, that Hazel’s home. But her bunk is still empty, and her shoes aren’t by the door, and she didn’t wake him when she came in. She always wakes him when she comes in, even if it’s four thirty in the damn morning, because nothing makes her cackle quite like Nico choking back curses and tweaking under her smothering pillow.

“Shit,” comes a small voice from the bathroom, followed by more retching. “Shitshitshit, no —”

Nico bolts for the door.

“Hi,” Will says, or tries to. His scarred knuckles clench with every gag, wrapped too tightly around the rim of porcelain to tremble like the rest of him.

Something about the wobbly smile he keeps trying to form in between gags. Something about the sweat that has drenched his t-shirt, something about the deep circles under his eyes, something about his spot in the bed completely cold, wrinkled.

Something is not adding up.

“You’re not sick,” Nico murmurs, pressing the back of his hand to Will’s forehead. Will mutters something about bliss, leaning into Nico’s hand; he smiles again, but it is strained, and at odds with the glassy look in his eyes. The sharp, rapid breaths.

“Just don’t — feel good.”

Every word is punctuated by a big, heaving gasp, like he’s trying to breathe through heavy cotton. On a hunch, Nico slides his hands down Will’s face, brushing the goosebumps on his neck, the irritated, pulsing tendons, and rest flat against his chest, over his heart.

His heart that is pounding, so quickly it is actually challenging to recognise as a beat rather than a buzz.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Nico says quietly.

Will shrugs. He gags again, but clamps his mouth shut before it goes anywhere, breathing deeply and carefully through clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. His heart pounds faster, and the rapid movement of his chest grows shallow, but he manages to choke back his bile, swallow down whatever nausea is plaguing him.

“I’m — fine.” His laboured breathing is the loudest sound in the cabin. In the camp. “I’m handling it.”

Nico watches him. Watches him clench his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut and make a noise like he is being betrayed, like he is being sold for thirty silver by his own body, his own mind; watches him flex his muscles rigid and hold himself still like he can stop the nails and thorns from coming. He thinks of wide smiles and far away eyes and mental health pamphlets and cheerful slogans on infirmary walls.

“I think one of those things are true.”

“I don’t need —”

Whatever he doesn’t need is forgotten, because he is heaving again, only this time his body finds something to dredge up, even if that something is stomach acid and he cries as it burns its way up his throat, and in between heaving he wheezes, horrible whistling gasping noises, and his hair plasters to his forehead, and his body slumps into Nico’s hold and jerks away from him like rocky waves against a lakefront.

“How long have you been here?”

Will just shrugs again, and he cries, and he says “Leave, please,” and Nico wraps an arm tighter around his waist, and presses a kiss to his sweaty temple, lingering, holding, tasting salt from Will and from his tears both, and squeezing his eyes shut, and holding back the anger. Gritting his teeth and softening his hold, deliberately, resting his fingers delicately on the dip of Will’s hip, the raised pink of the stretch marks along his ribs.

“I hate it when you run from me,” he murmurs, and Will sobs again.

“I can’t breathe,” he says, and Nico squeezes and promises he can. “I’m dying. I’m dying, I’m gonna —”

“I’m here, Will.” He doesn’t say you’re not dying. He doesn’t say you’re fine, because this is the longest they’ve sat together in five days, because it is the the quiet middle of June, because yesterday Kayla spent half her shift screaming at Will to get out and ignoring him when he shouted back. Because the bandage around Will’s wrist has been worn to threads, because Lee’s hoodie has not been washed in weeks, because there is a newcomer named Michael and Will cannot even look at him. Because it has been bad. “I’m here.”

It is as much a reminder as it is a plea as it is a reprimand as it is a fruitless nothing, because when Nico struggles he gets angry, when Nico struggles he gets mean and biting and violent, but when Will struggles he wants the world to kill him. And for all that Nico is halfway to the grave he has clawed and chewed and fought his way to survival. And when Will scratches at the skin around his ears and screams into his hands and opens the chapped over scars on his lips his palms his fingers, Nico can only hold him, Nico can only gently pry his nails from his flesh and tell himself that one day they will get to the point where Nico wakes up. Where Will wakes him up, where he burrows into the place between his arms and his chest and hides in someone else for once. Where he trusts someone outside of himself enough to bare his back.

“I’m here,” he whispers again, and he presses his lips to Will’s hair and holds him as he sobs, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

#is this 100 ways?? i don’t actually know if it’s 100 ways #i’m writing this and then blocking it from my brain #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #nico/will #will/nico #will is Going Thru It #will solace angst #nico di angelo angst #solangelo #angst #will solace has anxiety #100 ways #100 ways to say i love you #cw panic attack #my writing #longpost

[prokopetz]

I think everybody who's hand-wringing about Silksong not having a demo out for Next Fest needs to bear in mind that metroidvanias (and metroidvania-adjacent genres, e.g., Zelda-likes) are some of the most labour-intensive games to produce, and that most well-regarded indie examples of the type were in development for a very long time.

Phoenotopia: Awakening was in development for seven years; Ghost Song and Owlboy, for nine years; Iconoclasts, for eleven (if you count the development period of the cancelled Ivory Springs prototype; eight years if you don't); and if Radio the Universe makes its tentative 2023 launch date it'll have been in the works for thirteen years.

Of course, the elephant in the room is Hollow Knight itself. By all reports, it only took four years to produce. There are a couple of caveats that need to be attached to that, however: first, that how quickly Hollow Knight was turned out is one of the most notable things about it – many AAA studios would struggle to turn around a game of that scope in so little time, much less an indie studio! (For reference, four years is also about how long it took Nintendo and MercurySteam to turn out Metroid Dread.) Second, anyone who remembers how janky Hollow Knight's gameplay was at launch will understand that such extraordinarily rapid development came at a cost.

Point is, Silksong, which has been in development since 2019, is only just now reaching the point of having been in the works for as long as its predecessor, and even if it does take until 2024 or 2025 to come out, that would still put it on the extreme low end of expected development times for a large indie metroidvania. Missing the 2023 Next Fest is not a sign of danger ahead.

#gaming #video games #silksong #hollow knight #game development #metroidvanias

[konigsblog]

i had a dream about big dicked könig and he was so frustrated at me for not being able to fit so we settled on a pussyjob I BLAME YOU ORLA (literally thank u so much?!..) 🐙<3

i wish i was having dreams about extremely big dicked-könig, what a great way to wake up... 🐙

but, now your idea about könig settling with a pussyjob because he's too large to fit inside is rotting my brain away, anon !!! :(

thinking about how he'd be so fucking frustrated, getting increasingly more aggressive, his stiff and aching cock throbbing and hardening in his grip, held firmly by the base. his balls become tight, full of his release, which he's been dying – longing to stuff inside you all day. his breathing is rapid; laboured and heavy as he begins to rub the sensitive head of his large cock against your swollen clit out of pure frustration. he didn't expect to find himself groaning hoarsely, body hunched over yours, caging you in with his large, burly arms whilst humping your folds.

he rubbed harder, grinding himself against your sopping wet slit, sucking in a sharp, harsh breath as you pulsed around nothing, thighs attempting to clench together through anticipation. it's the fact he's not inside you, you barely know when you're cumming, all you can feel is his hot, bulbous cock against your hot, wet heat, ‘til your sweet release begins to rupture through your weakened, horny body, squirting against his lower abdomen as he rubs harder, using your juices to grind himself between your folda with ease. his body musk prominent, thick and rubbing against you, causing you to smell of his sweat and arousal. :(

poor thing, you're gripping his shoulders with your legs spread apart, shocked when he finally spurts thick, milky ropes of his hot load all over your thighs and cunt, covering your precious wet heat in his release. :(

#orla speaks #konig x you #konig x reader #konig x y/n #könig x you #könig x reader #könig x y/n #könig fanfiction #könig call of duty #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig smut #konig call of duty #konig mw2

[vavandeveresfan]

"Sex is biological fact, NHS declares."

Fuckin FINALLY.

The article's behind a paywall, so I had to grab a screenshot fast. It's not the clearest picture, and I may have cut some off.

Here's the article, if you can get around the paywall.

From BBC News via Yahoo News:

NHS England charter to stress biological sex when placing patients in wards

Transgender women should not be put on single-sex female NHS wards, the government is proposing.

The measure is part of a raft of changes to the NHS Constitution for England, the charter of rights for patients.

The proposals stress the importance of biological sex for the first time when it comes to same-sex accommodation and intimate care.

In both cases, the rights are available only where possible.

For example, same-sex accommodation rights, which have existed for years, can and are breached where there is a clinically urgent need to admit and treat a patient and do not extend to areas such as critical care or accident and emergency.

The guidance also means that trans men should not be housed on single-sex male wards.

Under the proposals:

transgender people, whose gender identity differs from their biological sex, may be provided single rooms, where appropriate

patients will have the right to request a person of the same biological sex delivers any intimate care

Health Secretary Victoria Atkins said it was about making it clear that "sex matters".

"We want to make it abundantly clear that if a patient wants same-sex care, they should have access to it wherever reasonably possible," she said.

"By putting this in the NHS Constitution, we're highlighting the importance of balancing the rights and needs of all patients, to make a healthcare system that is faster, simpler and fairer to all."

'Trampled over'

Maya Forstater, of the Sex Matters campaign group, said the changes were "excellent news".

"The confusion between 'sex' and 'gender' in official policies like the NHS Constitution is what has enabled women's rights to be trampled over in the name of transgender identities," she said.

But Cleo Madeleine, of Gendered Intelligence, said robust policies were already in place and the government had its priorities wrong.

"After 14 years of austerity, medical professionals are crying out for more funding, more resources, and better conditions for staff and patients," she said.

"The government seems hell-bent on pursuing its obsession with the transgender community instead of addressing these longstanding needs."

'Martha's rule'

The changes are part of a wider review of the NHS Constitution, which the government must complete every 10 years.

They also include a plan to embed patients and their loved ones' right to access a rapid review from outside the care team if the patient is deteriorating.

This is the right behind "Martha's rule", which is being introduced in the NHS, to ensure patients know they can ask for a second opinion, with the government providing funding to hospitals for posters and leaflets informing patients and their families.

Martha Mills died aged 13, after being admitted to King's College Hospital, south London, in 2021, having injured her pancreas slipping on to the handlebars of her bike while cycling.

She later developed sepsis - but with better care, could have survived, an inquest found.

All the changes will be consulted on over the next eight weeks, before the constitution is updated later this year.

Labour's shadow health secretary Wes Streeting said: "Rights on paper are worthless unless they are delivered in practice.

"The NHS constitution already pledges that no patient will have to share an overnight ward with patients of the opposite sex, but that is not the case for too many patients."

#sex is fact #sex not gender #Cass report #Cass review #WPATH #gender critical #NHS #the tide is turning #the telegraph #the daily telegraph #BBC news

[444rockstargf]

₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ "𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡." | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: female!reader x spencer

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 777

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: smut, unprotected p in v, doggystyle, creampie, overstimulation, slightly implied aftercare, not proofread

when spencer reid fucks, he fucks.

it was nearly impossible to comprehend. the BAU’s genius, the one who beamed like a ray of sunshine and wouldn’t hurt a fly, turning you into a sobbing mess with the rapid thrust of his hips into your cervix? you would’ve laughed at the thought a few hours ago. now here you were, your face shoved into his pillow as he slammed himself into you, taking slight pleasure in the sounds of your muffled whimpers.

his veined hands dug into your bruised hips, the chestnut hairs on his head falling in tufts over his flushed face. he had seven and a half inches stirring within the gummy walls of your hole, his balls slapping against your puffy clit over and over again.

spencer’s lips glistened with juices of arousal as his groans echoed through the room. “m-my god, y-you’re losing it, aren’t you baby..?” he taunted, managing a breathy little laugh as you whimpered in response. he pulled out his cock, mainly to get a reaction out of you. your cunt fluttered around the absence of his rod, your hips rocking back desperately to feel him in your again.

he hissed, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he dragged the tip of his dick along your sticky entrance, coating it in your cum. you let out a laboured, shaky breath as he gave you a few wet slaps, pushing himself back into you inch by inch at a time.

you were a mess, your tears and spit saturating the pillow underneath you. not to mention how swollen you were getting from the relentless abuse on your hole, but you couldn’t complain. he had shoved his fingers into your mouth, anyway.

you could feel his neatly-trimmed v-line slam against the sore flesh of your ass each time he buried himself inside of you. a string of curses slurred from his lips, his grip on your hips only getting tighter with each passing second. your vision had gone hazy hours ago, your body completely submitting to his newfound dominance.

“i-i… i can’t, s-spence..!” you stammered out just as he began to rub sloppy circles on your clit with his long fingers. you rolled your hips against him, chasing an orgasm that seemed just within your reach. your pussy convulsed around his girth, making him toss his head back as a deep groan erupted from his gut. the lewd noises of skin slapping together quickly drowned out the groans, whimpers, and pleas. “c’mon, baby. j-just like that… use me…”

and you did. you ground against him, wanting to feel him in every way possible. sweat cascaded down the valleys and crevices of both of your bodies, adding additional heat to the steamy atmosphere. his cock twitched and throbbed as his balls swelled with the overwhelming presence of cum.

you were so, so close that it almost hurt. the sensations buzzing in your body were reaching an all-time high, bubbling over like a pot of boiling water. you buried your face into the pillow to hide your sobs, but spencer took a handful of your hair to pull you back up. “i wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make when you cum… c-can you do that for me, baby..?” you were helpless to denying his request. the line between reality and whatever heaven felt like were becoming blurrier as he finally found that bundle of muscles deep inside of you.

your body jerked, and there it was. you let out a moan so pornographic as cum gushed out of you that spencer couldn’t help but blow his load while he was shoved inside of you. he bit his lip so hard that he drew blood as he hastily began fucking you again, his thrusts lacking all their usual composure.

he wanted to drag out this orgasm. to make it better than you could ever fathom. even through this time of weakness for him, his motions were perfect and precise. the speed of his fingers, the rhythm of his thrusts, it was all hypnotic and you quickly found yourself reaching a stage of overstimulation. 

your body quaked and trembled as he milked every last drop of cum out of you, giving your pussy a few more flicks before finally pulling out, a thick white string of cum connecting your bodies before snapping. you collapsed onto the moistened bedsheets, spencer joining you and wrapping an arm around your waist as you panted like starved animals.

you were lying in a puddle of cum, your body still spasming as shaky breaths slipped from your mouth. and all this was because of the BAU’s genius, spencer reid.

#444rockstargf #smut #did you know that there’s a tunnel under ocean blvd #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer x reader #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer ried #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #bau team #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminalminds #whoisspence #mgg pics #matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #mgg fanfiction

[kimura-desu]

Car baby

DadHusband!SimonRiley x PregnantWife!Reader (afab)

Summary: A couple days after your due date, your water broke but you persisted to stay at home while you had the opportunity to - even though Simon hated the idea. And because of that, you are now having the baby. On the way to the hospital.

———————

word count: around 1.2k

cw: pregnancy, depictions of intense pain - a little blood, bad language, dangerous driving, car birth.

———————

sorry if they’re spelling mistakes, i didn’t go through it properly properly. kinda lost it at the end, but enjoy !

“Hold on— bloody hell, woman.”

One minute you were trying to rest on the settee with a warm tea in your grasp. And the next, you were hunched over mumbling in pain. The tea had jolted from your hand and split over the carpet.

“..fuuck!” Your voice a sharp groan as his arms quickly found way under your own.

“We should’ve gone to the hospital..” No, he wasn’t scolding you but Simon was a little irritated at the fact your persistence had come to this. In labour in your own home, which wasn’t that ideal.

A wavering whimper left your lips, your fingers curling tightly into his muscle as he gently lifted your pregnant body up.

“Lovie, s’alright just hold onto me. And breathe.”

“Isn’t breathing what I’m doing?!”

“Not exactly, more like whinin’ your guts out.”

The burly man took most of your weight, leading you quickly to the car that sat outside on the drive with duffel bags already stocked for the trip. But it shocked you to think it was all happening now.

Simon didn’t even think to put a towel down before seating you in the car, but everything was going on at a rapid pace he had forgotten.

Once you were sat he did the seatbelt for you before closing the door and rushing to the driver’s side.

“We’ll get to the hospital. All will be fine ‘oney.”

As if he wasn’t shitting his pants right there and then.

Getting in the car, it didn’t take long for you to be pushed back into your seat by an invisible force. It kinda took the breath out of you.

But so was the baby that was literally about to pop out.

“Shit— I know we’re in a rush-” Your voice strained, followed by your brows knitting together. “But slow down!”

Of course Simon didn’t listen. However he did look back and forth at your rounded stomach quite a couple of times. The last thing you would’ve wanted right now was to be caught in an accident.

A harsher surge of pain had swept through your back and lower stomach all the way to the disc of your spine, causing you to choke on a loose sob as your hand took a vice-like grip on Simon’s arm. He cursed something under your moans.

He focused on trying to get there safely, but on a condition that he could cut down on minutes.

As cars swerved out of the way of your oncoming vehicle, which was not going to stop, you held onto him for dear life. Pretty sure there’s bound to be a bruise on his bicep after this.

“Simon, I think I’m bleeding!”

Your cry of words is what snapped 3 quarters of his attention to you. The poor man’s head was on a swivel, returning between both you and the road.

He stuck his hand out and placed it on your bare thigh.

“Hell- is that normal?!”

“I don’t think so!” Your pained moans were swapped with pained cries.

It was making Simon feel sick. Not because you were bleeding, no, but because of the immense pain you were feeling and not being able to do a thing about it apart from reassure you.

A soft hand of yours snaked down below your pants.

Touch.

Take out.

Red. A lot of red.

God the sight could’ve made both you and Simon faint.

“Christ.” A mutter under his cold breath.

He rubbed his toughened hand up and down your thigh, adding pressure as he steered with the other.

“Don’t worry love, we’re pulling over..”

————

Your cries of agony were deafening over the hushed woman’s voice of an ambulance emergency operator. It was almost embarrassing, but fairs to you, a newborn was making itself known.

Simon was on your side out of the car, listening to what the woman was telling him to do.

‘Have you got towels?’

“Uh yes, in the back.”

‘Use those for the baby when it’s out.’

“..alright.”

‘Is this her first?’

“Yes—”

Another one of your screams. But it seemed to have supported her next instruction.

‘When you are pushing honey, you need to push for 6 seconds, then take a 10 second breather okay?’

“..okay.” The word wobbled from your lips.

Simon took your hand and placed another on your bent knee. Props to you, you were doing this without a damn epidural.

There was blood literally everywhere, all down your thighs and hands, even on Simon. But he really couldn’t care less.

Your grip tightened as you pushed, feeling the sharp tense radiate through your core as you felt tension building up.

“..keep pushing love.” Simon grunted uneasily, wincing a little at the deathly grip of your hand interlocked with his. “Fuck that’s hard—”

‘Breathe 10 seconds..’

‘Then push again.’

God, you were pushing and pushing. If only tough Simon could experience this, my, would it be brilliant.

As you pushed you felt the tight head of the baby force itself out, followed by a sense of relief and loose pressure.

“The heads out!..” Simon said in quite excited tone, pulling a wonky confused face from you. But it was nice to see Simon show such enthusiasm.

‘Good. Just keep pushing mama, the baby’ll be out in no time.’

All that was coming out of your mouth was just endless cries of pain and weakened mumbles of suffering. It was making Simon feel ill again.

“..jesus— the shoulders on this thing—ah!”

..‘this thing’ was the baby.

“Just the shoulders.. and the baby will be out. Alright lovie?” He kissed you on the head.

You gave a loose nod, hair sticking to your forehead with sweat, and tears staining your peachy cheeks that were washed away with Simon’s thumb.

He then got towels, as the operator had told him to, ready to catch the baby when it slips out. You couldn’t help but feel a little violated of your space, but the man’s seen it all before sooo.

You pushed, along with the woman’s voice through the phone on the dashboard and Simon’s little but effective encouragement. Christ, the tension was too powerful, were you tearing or something?

But it wasn’t too long, before it felt like you had been emptied from the inside out. The relief.

“It’s out— the baby’s out!” Simon called, a small smile plastered along his face. That was something you almost never saw in a while. Sarcasm by the way.

‘Put it bare on the mother’s chest, pat its back until you hear a cry.’

He did as he was told and used the towel to gently place the baby on the unclothed part of your chest, his brows furrowing a little at the fact that for it to be alive, it needed to cry.

Your shaky hand was a bit late to lightly pat the newborn, Simon was already getting to it, but you felt so weak at the moment it was almost unbearable.

“Breathe baby. Breathe.”

The man whispered.

To you or the baby?

The silence was awfully mute, a high pitched ringing the only thing loud in your ears apart from Simon’s bated breath.

A cry.

The breaths everyone had been holding were blown as the baby announced itself to the three of you. Simon dryly chuckled. You swear you heard the operator chuckle too.

‘Congratulations Mum and Dad. Is it a boy or a girl?’

Simon’s eyes laid softly on you with your newborn, a hand on his child, and the other on your meaty thigh.

“A girl.” He said with a small smirk, kissing you again on the forehead as you looked dazed.

‘How’s the Mum?’ Worn out. Exhausted. Little light-headed. Icky. Nauseated.

“..I’m fine. I think.”

You thought it was better just to act.. okay. Although to Simon, it was obvious that you needed space, and possible to be checked over my doctors. Your bronzed gaze looked down at the pair of lidded eyes on your chest.

‘That’s good. The ambulance is nearly there to take you all to the hospital, for them to take a look at you and the baby.’

A tired sigh left your lips, your eyes heavy as your hand rested on the wailing newborn.

“..you did bloody brilliant.” The man reassured, his hand brushing away sticky strands of hair from your forehead.

Your look returned to him, searching for something in his eyes before he pecked your lips with a small kiss.

Damn. You just had a baby.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #pregnancy #pregnant!reader #dad!simon riley #giving birth #birthing

[koenigami]

+18 I love WRIOTHESLEY's contrasts. His rugged appearance, numerous scars, a strong build, broad shoulders and muscles that he has gained during years of hard labour- Everything about this man screams that you should keep your distance from him.

You would not consider those large, calloused hands being capable of handling even a single thing with gentleness. But they do. He does. His palm cupping your cheek feels like the morning sun gracing you with the warmth of its rays, leaving a pleasant shiver in its wake that leaves you only yearning for more of him.

And even when he does give you more, he does it so carefully and with a tenderness that never fails to make you tear up out of love for him. Goosebumps appear where his fingers caress you, silently worshipping every single curve and mark of yours, treating them like treasures that he wants to keep for himself. At the same time, there's probably not an inch of your neck that his lips have not touched or marked up. The bites that are followed by the wet and soothing strokes of his tongue leave you in a constant state between pain and pleasure, giving you no other choice but to take everything while clawing on his back, leaving red marks beside his scars.

His thrusts switch from hard and fast to slow and teasing, back to steady and passionate, your desperate pleas and whimpers riling him up further, making his heart pound even faster. And yes, he does have a way with words. "Yeah? Like that?" "My gorgeous girl, taking me so well." "I know, sweetheart, I know." "You want to cum, huh? Go on, love."

However, those piercing eyes look at you with an adoration that is hard to put into words. Words that he could probably never find, but neither you nor him mind because at the end of the night, when you're both lying in each others arms, your head on his chest and his hand wrapped around the back of your neck with his thumb stroking along your pulse point, your hearts beat in sync at the same rapid rate.

#tea-man on my mind 24/7 #wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x you #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley fluff

[ecoterrorist-katara]

“Katara deserves a quiet life after the war, so becoming a healer (who made no contributions to the field) is actually a good arc!”

It is already bizarre to me that in ATLA, Katara is this confident & combative & ambitious girl who LOVED to fight and wanted nothing more than to help as many people as possible…then comics!Katara and TLOK!Katara showed neither her previous personality traits nor a career commensurate with those traits…

but it’s even more bizarre to me that ATLA fans would defend her trajectory as if it were some kind of progressive story of recovering from war trauma.

I’ve seen multiple takes like this. “Katara is not a YA heroine, she’s not a bloodthirsty girlboss who loves fighting so it’s actually a good thing that she doesn’t have to fight anymore” “after everything she’s been through she deserves a quiet life and a loving family”

For Katara, fighting in the war was actually empowering. It didn’t burn her out. It didn’t disillusion her. It didn’t take more out of her than she can give. Katara is not Katniss Everdeen, who needed to step back and discover her own agency and a sense of peace after fighting in a war she never chose to start. Katara’s war trauma largely happened before she took an active part in it. After she chose to be a part of the war, she became a waterbending master, made close friends, found her father again, got closure for her mother’s murder, defeated the Fire Lord, and met the love of her life. If Katara were a real person, maybe she’d be traumatized, but nowhere in the text of ATLA does she exhibit the sign that she’s tired of fighting on behalf of the world. If anything, she just got started.

If you take her post-ATLA arc at face value (vs as bad writing), it’s a tragedy of a woman who has learned to minimize her own relevance and her own power. In The Promise, she begins deferring serious decisions to Aang. She doesn’t even express a strong opinion about the fate of the entire colony of Yu Dao, or the fate of her friend Zuko. In North and South, she accepts Northern encroachment of the South in the name of progress. In TLOK we see her not as a politician or a chief, but rather as “the best healer” — albeit one who apparently never established a hospital, or trained acolytes of her own, or done anything to help people at scale, which she has always wanted to do. It’s even more egregious when you remember that in Jang Hui, she was not satisfied to simply heal the sick as the Painted Lady. She wanted to solve the root of the problem, so she cleaned the river and committed full-on ecoterrorism. Just because the war is over doesn’t mean she wants to stop helping people. In fact, the problem she addressed in Jang Hui is exactly the type of problem that would become more prevalent after the war ends, judging by the rapid industrialization between ATLA and LOK.

In the original ATLA, I think Katara is about as close to a power fantasy as you can get for a teenage girl, because she gets to be messy and goofy and powerful, even though she also had to perform a whole lot of emotional and domestic labour. But post-ATLA, she doesn’t get power and she doesn’t get to make a change. She gets love and a family. That’s it. And her grandkids don’t even remember her. Her friends and peers, on the other hand, were shown doing all sorts of super cool things like, you know, running the world they saved.

It’s not feminist to say that a female character deserves “rest” when she’s shown zero inclination that she wants a quiet life. Women who want a quiet life deserve to get it — I think Katniss’ arc is perfect — but women who want power deserve to get it too, especially when they’re motivated by compassion and a keen sense of justice. There’s nothing feminist about defending the early 2010s writing decisions of two men. Like just admit that they fucked up! It’s fine! Maybe they’ll do better in the future!

#katara deserved better #anti Kataang #I mean not really #I’ve said this before but Katara’s marriage to Aang is entirely compatible with her taking on roles of political influence #The only way this meta could be anti kataang is because KA shippers are remarkably uncritical of Katara’s arc #So it’s more #anti kataang shippers #Anti Bryke #pro katara #my meta

[saturnznct]

he holds the baby for the first time | nct dream

➸ note; hehe bit of a long one bc i love my dreamies <3

➸ word count; 4313 words

➸ lucas, tengfei, moonbyeol, dalgun, chaeyeon, caihong & chunae; aged newborn

➸ warning(s); breastfeeding? labour, c-sections, stitches, injection mention, blood mention

nct masterlist (lnks will be added later)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

mark

Mark’s entire world had been turned upside down in a matter of a few hours. Just four hours ago, he was working hard at dance practice, and now he was a father. He felt so many things, shock being the most prominent, shared with complete awe and love for you and your new son. The fact that he hadn’t held your newborn yet hadn’t even crossed his mind, he was far more concerned with both of your health and wellbeing, considering you’d had no pre-natal care. The hours dragged on, the amount of nurses and doctors coming in finally beginning to thin out. Your son had been laying on your chest for quite some time, having eaten and been burped already. You were so exhausted, a mixture of the birth and the late hour, but Mark was still wide awake, mind racing. However, managers and staff keep disappearing and reappearing, talking to Mark and whoever was on the phone in rapid speech. Mark could see the way it was affecting you, the way you move to almost protect your baby from the outsiders.  

‘You should get some sleep,’ he murmurs, noticing your eyes dropping closed and then opening again.

‘I can’t look away from him,’ you admit, ‘he’s so perfect.’

‘I know, baby, but you need to rest,’ Mark reaches out a hand and brushes your hair from your face, ‘besides, I haven’t held him yet.’

Your eyes widen a little, ‘oh, of course not, I’m sorry.’

Mark chuckles, ‘it’s okay, it’s important he gets to know his mama. I’ll keep an eye on him while you nap, okay? I’ll wake you if he needs anything.’

‘Okay,’ you sit up slightly. The handover is awkward, it being the first time you’d done it, but eventually Mark has the tiny baby in his arms, kissing your forehead before murmuring a ‘goodnight, I love you,’ and settling into the armchair beside your bed.

‘Love you. Please keep him here,’ you mumble, turning onto your side and closing your eyes.

‘I will, don’t worry sweetheart.’

Mark is quiet for a few minutes, gently yet stiffly rocking the baby back and forth, examining his face and all the details. The baby looked so much like him, and he knew it, feeling an enormous sense of pride at the boy’s identical nose and eyes, that he’d seen in baby photos of his own over the years. Once he’s sure you’re asleep, he begins to talk to his son, wishing the infant to get used to his voice.

‘Hey, baby boy,’ Mark begins, lightly shushing the baby when he fusses, ‘it’s okay, everything is just fine.’

You were just on the verge of falling asleep when you hear Mark’s voice, heart warming at the sound of the love of your life talking to your firstborn.

‘I didn’t even know you existed a few hours ago, but God, I love you. More than anything. You’re so perfect, such a beautiful baby, all from your mama. She did so well, didn’t she? Carried you for all that time… I promise I’ll be here for you, always. Everything I do from now on is for you and your mummy/mommy.’

You still lay awake, eyes filled with hot tears at the pure love that overcomes you. 

Mark is silent for a few moments, staring back into his son’s deep brown eyes, ‘I promise I won’t let you down. I love you, son.’

renjun

This was the moment Renjun had been anticipating since the moment you found out you were pregnant. He’d been terrified at the time, the pregnancy was unexpected and Renjun wasn’t sure he was ready or capable of being a father. At the same time, Renjun’s thoughts were filled with questions and worries about your baby. What would the baby look like? How big would the baby be? Would they come during the day or the night? But his biggest fear of all, was that your baby wouldn’t like him. He didn’t have the best luck with other member’s babies; generally they would cry and protest in his arms. He tried to prevent this, doing any and every bonding exercise with your bump that he could think or read about, hoping that when your son arrived he would feel comfortable and safe with him.

‘Jun?’ You’d been holding the baby for over an hour, having some skin to skin and your first feed. Renjun froze a little at the expectant look on your face, like he knew what you were about to ask.

‘You should hold him.’

Renjun blinks, ‘are you sure? you’re bonding with hi-‘

‘Jun,’ you repeat, softly, ‘he’s your son. He’s not going to hate you. Besides, I want to see my boys together.’

‘Okay,’ Renjun reaches down for the baby on your chest, cringing when the baby whines and fusses, ‘hey, don’t cry, please don’t cry.’

Renjun rocks and bounces him awkwardly but to no avail, and he sends you a look screaming for help.

‘It’s ok, Jun,’ you smile, ‘keep talking to him.’

‘He doesn’t like me,’ Renjun begins to panic, ‘he was happy with you, maybe you should-‘

‘Junie,’ you retort softly, ‘he just doesn’t like that he’s been moved. Keep talking to him, he’ll know your voice.’

Renjun gives himself a mental pep talk, slightly relaxing when he looks at the face of his baby boy.

‘It’s okay, it’s just me, I’m your daddy.’

You give Renjun an encouraging smile, and so he continues, ‘I really hope you like me from now on. Most babies don’t.’

The baby is gradually calming down at his father’s voice, so Renjun keeps talking.

‘Good boy, do you know my voice? I tried to talk to you as much as possible while you were in there so I hope you recognise it.’

The baby is now settled, staring up at his father with big brown eyes. Your heart melts at Renjun’s wide, toothy grin.

‘He likes me,’ he says to you, before turning back to the baby, ‘I think you look like a Tengfei.’

‘I like that name,’ you hum, ‘Huang Tengfei it is.’

Renjun’s smile gets impossibly wider, pride filling his chest knowing he’d just named his firstborn baby boy.

‘I love you so much, Huang Tengfei.’

jeno

You had never felt so at peace. You had just given birth to your first child, a daughter Moonbyeol in your bedroom at home a few hours earlier. Already, Moonbyeol was a very chilled baby, rarely fussing or crying. She was perfectly happy just laying on your chest, staring back at you. Jeno had been laying beside you for several hours now, engaging in hushed conversation with you about your newborn, all while unable to take his eyes off her. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that he hadn’t properly held his daughter, as you’d been snuggled together so close. As time passed, you grew more and more exhausted, the energy you had spent during the birth beginning to weigh you down. 

‘How long has it been since she fed?’ you wonder aloud, ‘the midwife said every three hours..’

‘I think it was at six,’ Jeno says, ’so three and a bit hours ago.’

‘She needs more,’ you mumble, sighing deeply, already pulling your top down to give Moonbyeol access. Jeno helps you guide her head to your chest.

‘Agh,’ the pain is sharp when she latches, and Jeno kisses and rubs your hair in encouragement.

‘You’re doing so well, look at how well she eats.’

‘It hurts so much Jen,’ Jeno’s heart hurts at the look on your face.

‘I know, I know,’ Jeno frowns, ‘it’ll get better, with time.’

‘I hope so,’ you say, ‘I feel sore all over.’

‘You’ve been so incredible,’ Jeno praises, ‘we did so well with her.’

‘Yeah, we did,’ you grin, the and the two of you settle into small talk while Moonbyeol eats. After some time, she pulls away, ready to be burped.

‘I don’t want to move,’ you admit, ‘too tired.’

‘Hey, I’ll take her,’ Jeno offers, ‘you can stay in bed. Plus, I.. I haven’t got to hold her yet.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay, don’t be silly,’ Jeno presses a kiss to your cheek, ‘I’ve been so close this whole time. You should get some rest.’

You suddenly realise how drained and exhausted you truly were, eyes and body heavy with fatigue.

‘I think I probably should,’ you mumble tiredly, ‘Moonie, daddy’s going to get all that horrible air up for you.’

It takes perhaps a little longer than it should have, but eventually the baby is successfully passed into Jeno’s arms.

‘Hey, Moonie,’ Jeno rests her on his shoulder, gently patting her back, ‘you’re so tiny.’

You move to lay down on your side and rest your eyes as Jeno talks to your daughter in a hushed voice.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Jeno meets his daughters eyes, seeing his own staring back at him, ‘look at those brown eyes! So pretty. No boy will ever be good enough for such a beautiful girl.’

Jeno slowly wanders out of your room and into Moonbyeol’s nursery, wanting to give you some peace to sleep.

‘This is your room,’ Jeno turns the baby in his arms so that she’s facing the majority of the room, ‘this is where you’ll sleep, where you’ll play… I hope you like the way we decorated. If you don’t, we can change it later.’

Moonbyeol’s eyes flicker around the room, although her expression is blank.

‘Look, Moonie,’ he walks towards her unused crib, looking at the silver mobile that hangs over it, white and yellow moon and stars hanging down, ‘it’s like you! You’re our little moon star.’

Moonbyeol burps at that exact moment, and Jeno chuckles, not sure whether he should be offended or not.

‘Well, that says what you think of that.’

haechan

Donghyuck naturally comes across as a conceited and cocky person, you know that’s just his humour. He’s cheeky and bold, but at the same time down to earth and a total sweetheart. He acted quite similarly when it came to his impending fatherhood, on the outside appearing as though he was completely confident, that he would take being a father in his stride. But on the inside, he was terrified. Sometimes he would catch sight of you, his pregnant wife, and would feel a deep sense of dread alongside the rush of love that would bubble up in his chest. When you went into labour while eating dinner together, he thought he was going to be sick, the crashing realisation that this was it. You’d done so well, going through hours of contractions before your son began to struggle, and you were taken into an emergency c-section. You were crying softly as they prepared you for the surgery. Donghyuck emerged from the bathroom in his scrubs to see you laying there, and you immediately you’d reached out for him. In that moment, he knew how much you needed him, how much both of you needed him. In that moment he knew he’d do anything to be the best father and husband.

Your son Dalgun was eventually delivered through the C-section, laying on your chest for quite some time as you were stitched up and wheeled back to your hospital room. Donghyuck hates the look of discomfort on your face as you try to move around on the bed and feed. You’re exhausted, in pain and in need of a good rest, but you had to stay awake for your son.

Donghyuck tries to make himself useful, keeping the hospital room tidy and making sure your water cup was filled and you hadn’t bled too heavily onto the pad beneath you.

Part of him aches to hold his baby boy. He so desperately wants to just reach out and take the baby into his arms, shower him in all of the love he had to give. But at the same time, he didn’t want to. He was frightened that his son would be unsettled with him, that he would do something astronomically wrong like drop him. After some time, the nurse knocks softly on the door, coming to check on your surgery site.

‘Donghyuck,’ you croak, his heart hurting when he sees you laying there, exhausted and in pain with your son on your chest, ‘will you take him?’

‘I-‘ 

‘Hyuck,’ you notice the way he freezes, but he melts and relaxes at your tone, ‘its okay. You’re his daddy. You did so well at the classes.’

Donghyuck shakes himself. You’re vulnerable, you’ve just had invasive surgery and you need him. And he’s terrified of holding his own baby.

‘Okay.’

The nurse helps with the handover as it pains you to lean too far, and suddenly there’s a seven pound baby wriggling around in his arms. Dalgun cries shrilly at being moved, Donghyuck cringing as he wails.

‘Dalgun-ah,’ he clumsily rocks the baby, ‘won’t you be a good boy while mummy/mommy gets looked after? I’m not a stranger, I’m your daddy.’

Donghyuck sways on his feet, soothing Dalgun, ‘your mummy/mommy is so so brave. She is so incredible, Dalgun-ah, she’ll be the best mummy/mommy in the whole world to you, I just know it. And I’ll try my absolute hardest to be the best daddy. I love you.’

jaemin

Jaemin thinks that his daughter’s birth was nothing short of perfect. You had given birth to Chaeyeon in a birthing centre, early in the morning in a birthing pool.

Jaemin had sat right behind you, in his swim shorts, with you between his legs, not even wincing when you near crushed his hands while you pushed. Jaemin had been the one to cut the cord, before the baby was taken away to be weighed and given her first injection.

Jaemin had felt new foreign feeling of resentment towards the nurse, who he knows deep down is just doing her job and ultimately protecting your daughter from disease, but at the same time, she made his baby girl cry.

Chaeyeon is bought back to you, now with a band-aid covering her injection site. Jaemin holds you in his arms, resting his chin on your shoulder and just soaking in your daughters face. For some time, the two of you get used to Chaeyeon, taking in her appearance and mannerisms and sounds. Jaemin doesn’t even really care how dirty the water is.

‘Y/N? Why don’t we get you cleaned up a little?’ the nurse suggests, and you’re more than happy to be helped out of the pool and herded into the shower in the conjoining bathroom. Another nurse had held Chaeyeon as Jaemin carried you bridal style into the bathroom and gently setting you down on the shower seat. He hangs around for a few minutes, eyes darting between you and Chaeyeon’s general direction, clearly conflicted as to who to stay with.

‘Go and be with her Jaem,’ you hum.

’Do you need me?’

‘I’m all good here,’ you answer honestly, ‘I think this may be quite gross, anyway.’

‘Okay,’ Jaemin leans over to kiss your cheek, ‘I’ll look after her.’

‘Oh!’ The nurse left in the delivery room is holding the little bundle in her arms, ‘lets go to daddy, shall we?’

Jaemin beams as his baby girl is handed to him for the very first time. His heart feels like it may burst out of his chest as she gurgles, tiny fists waving around above the pink blankets.

‘Oh, angel,’ Jaemin coos, ‘you’re killing me.’

Jaemin knew that this baby in his arms officially completely owned his heart. He knew it was over for him, that there was nothing he would not do for his little girl.

‘You’re such a pretty girl, Chaeyeon,’ his heart aches at her glistening eyes and nose that mirrors his own.

‘You’ll have so much love in your life. You already do. You have so many uncles who are just dying to meet you, you have a godfather who would do anything for you. I.. I would die for you, I love you more than anything in this world.’

Chaeyeon waves her arm around, peeling back the blanket slightly.

‘Oh, you don’t have any clothes on,’ Jaemin brings her over to the changing table, lowering her down as slowly as he possibly can.

‘Which should be your first ever outfit?’ Jaemin sifts through the folded up baby-grows in the small suitcase you’d brought along. He picks out a white one, patterned with little brown teddy bears.

‘Uncle Mark bought you this one,’ Jaemin buttons up the onesie, ‘like I told you, everyone loves you Chae. But not as much as I do!’

Jaemin nuzzles their noses together, before cradling Chaeyeon in his chest, pressing a kiss on top of her head.

‘I love you, angel. I’ll be here for you always.’

chenle

Chenle was the best partner throughout your entire pregnancy. He did absolutely everything for you and your baby’s comfort, fulfilling your every need and wish, whether monetary, physical or emotional. 

It seemed everything had to be perfect, the quality of your care, your baby’s nursery, your birth plans, everything. If you showed any slight indication of discomfort at any point in your pregnancy, Chenle was instantly at your side, going out of his way to somehow alleviate your pain. He was almost jumpy in that sense.

He was strangely calmer than you thought he would be when you went into labour. You had been taken to the hospital where Chenle and his family had naturally made sure you would receive the best treatment, with a spacious private room and a dedicated team of familiar doctors and nurses. You laboured for hours on end. For nearly twenty hours, you’d suffered through some of the most immense pain imaginable, completely supported by Chenle who fusses over you and holds your hand through it all. Frustratingly, you had been dilating excruciatingly slowly, and eventually the doctors decide a c-section would be best for both you and your baby. 

Your beautiful baby girl joined you in the early evening. Chenle was so overcome with love for his daughter. You both knew that she would be his little princess, that he would spoil her rotten and that nobody would ever lay a hand on her. He came up with the name Caihong, meaning rainbow. She was the rainbow that brightened up his life.

When Caihong came out, they had taken her away briefly to be weighed and checked over, before returning her to you.

‘You did so so well,’ Chenle stands as close to you as he can get, still in his scrubs as they stitch you back up, ’she’s beautiful. I can’t believe it.’

‘I’m so tired,’ you laugh, having been awake for the entirety of your labour, ‘she’s ruined me.’

Chenle chuckles, ‘they’re going to wheel you back into the room once they’re done. We’ll turn the lights down. You can nap soon.’

‘M’kay,’ you roll your head back down to look at your baby, ‘she’s perfect.’

’She is,’ Chenle nods, leaning down and pressing kisses into your hair, ‘I love you both so much.’

The first hour with your daughter is so precious. You are taken back to your private room in your bed, Caihong resting on your chest the whole time. You’d done your first feed, burping her while sitting up in your bed. Once you’d finished, the nurses left, and the three of you were alone together for the first time.

‘Are you tired?’ Chenle asks, running a hand through your hair, fussing over you.

‘I’m exhausted,’ you murmur, ‘never been so tired.’

‘Why don’t I take her?’ he suggests, ‘you can lay down and have a nap.’

‘Are you sure?’ the offer is so unbelievably tempting, ‘I don’t want to just leave you on your own.’

‘I’ll be just fine,’ Chenle reassures you, ‘you just fed her. I can change her myself, if she needs you I’ll wake you.’

‘Okay,’ you nod, moving your arms so that Chenle can easily take Caihong from you.

He grunts dramatically as he raises her up, as though he was lifting some massive weight, ‘hi baby girl.’

Chenle holds Caihong in one arm as he helps you lay down comfortably, reclining your bed back down with the remote so you were laying down.

‘Comfortable?’ Chenle checks, rubbing your upper arm with his spare hand.

‘Yes,’ your eyes are already closed, ‘love you, Lele.’

Chenle grins, ‘I love you too.’

As you fall asleep, Chenle slowly does a few laps of the hospital room, rocking Caihong in his arms. Once he’s sure you’re mostly asleep, and that talking won’t disturb you, he speaks to Caihong in a hushed voice.

‘Hi my little angel,’ he stares into her shining brown eyes, absolutely entranced by her, ‘we’ve waited for so long for you. Ever since your uncle had your cousins, I’ve wanted a baby of my own. And now you’re finally here. You’re already so loved, Caihong. I’ll do anything for you.’

Caihong looks at him almost as if she’s listening and understands what he’s saying. Chenle’s heart seizes and threatens to break out of his chest, he loves her so much. 

‘You own my heart, Caihong. Daddy loves you so much.’

jisung

Jisung was the first to hold his baby girl, and although it wasn’t for long, it was a fact he took great pride in. Jisung had completely frozen up when your midwife had asked him if he wanted to deliver the baby. His mouth had dried up, completely unsure of what to say, until he caught your gaze, face slightly screwed up in discomfort, but still encouraging him to say yes. He had taken the midwife’s offer, and under her guidance, caught your baby girl as she came out. Jisung had worried that he would drop her, due to the baby being covered in blood and various bodily fluids, but thankfully he manages to keep her in his grip, holding her up for a few moments before placing her on your chest.

Jisung didn’t get her back for another hour or so, not that he minded. You handled your first hour of motherhood expertly, Chunae was an extremely calm baby who fed easily. She was so intrigued by the both of you, as you both were with her, her brown eyes studying your faces. Jisung had never felt so many overpowering emotions at once. Firstly the feeling of pride that he’d been the one to bring Chunae into the world, and the fact he had a part in creating what he believed to be the most beautiful baby in the whole world. And of course, he felt such an overwhelming and intense love for both you and your baby, after watching you go through hours and hours of labour and delivery in his family home. You had been giving skin to skin for over an hour before you offered the baby to Jisung.

‘Hey, Jisungie,’ he is immediately by your side.

‘Do you need something? Water? Another pillow? The pad changed? Are you in a lot of pain?’

You smile at how flustered and caring he is, shaking your head, ‘no, I’m alright. I just thought you might want to hold her.’

Jisung softens, heart suddenly hammering in his chest, ‘oh, y-yeah. Yeah, of course I’d love to.’

Jisung leans down and gently picks Chunae from your chest, taking a few moments to get her into a good position.

‘Hi baby girl,’ he murmurs, strangely nervous, as though it was somebody else’s child.

‘Ah, good timing,’ Jisung’s mother suddenly enters the room, ‘I made soup for you Y/N.’

‘Oh, amazing, I’m starving,’ you welcome the bowl of hot soup with both hands.

Jisung wanders the room, rocking the slightly gurgling Chunae in his arms as he approaches the bedroom window. He doesn’t really notice you watching him, his thoughts all consumed by Chunae. His mother even points it out, catching your eyes and nodding towards him. 

‘Hi,’ Jisung shakily removes a hand from underneath her to play with her own tiny hand, melting when she curls her hand around his finger.

‘You’re so small,’ he whispered, ‘like a doll. And so well behaved too, you didn’t cry one bit when I picked you up.’

Chunae just looks back up at him, and Jisung gently wipes at the spit collecting at her mouth with a cloth.

‘I promise I’ll look after you angel,’ he nuzzles his nose against hers, ‘no one will ever hurt you. They’ll have to go through me first.’

Jisung suddenly can’t get the image of his baby girl as a teenager out of his head, his getting her heart broken by some worthless teenage boy. He imagines comforting her, giving her encouraging talks and building her confidence back up, utilising the skills he would have learned as a father to his little girl over the years. But for now, he knows nothing, only what he has read in pregnancy and parenting books.

‘I don’t know much,’ Jisung rubs his thumb up and down on her face, ‘but I promise I’ll be the best father I can possibly be for you. I’ll try so hard to do everything that’s right for you. I already love you more than anything in this world.’

Chunae yawns, tiny fists flailing weakly as she does.

‘Am I boring you?’ Jisung chuckles, ’you can’t be tired, not when I’ve just got you.’

‘You should sit down with her,’ you suggest, taking a short break from your soup, ’she’ll fall asleep on you.’

‘I think I may fall asleep also,’ Jisung chuckles, although settling into the armchair near your bed. 

‘Group nap?’ You suggest, your own eyes feeling heavy.

The group nap very quickly ends in Jisung’s mother removing the sleeping Chunae from a sleeping Jisung’s chest to lay in her crib. 

#dad!nct #nct dad au #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #dad!mark #dad!mark lee #dad!renjun #dad!jeno #dad!haechan #dad!jaemin #dad!chenle #dad!jisung #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #renjun x reader #jeno x reader #haechan x reader #jaemin x reader #chenle x reader #jisung x reader #mark lee fluff #renjun fluff #jeno fluff #haechan fluff #jaemin fluff #chenle fluff #jisung fluff #nct

[simon-roy]

A collection of panels devoted to the true hero of Refugium - BETTY THE GOAT.

One of the animals commonly brought to colony worlds by human settlers is the working or "super" goat - a sort of all-purpose farm beast, genetically modified for the purpose. The Super Goat's souped up digestive tract makes it capable of thriving off of sparse, varied, (and occasionally extraterrestrial) forage, and its large, robust build makes it well suited to draft labour (at the logging camps featured in "refugium", the goats serve as "line horses" - carrying cables out to felled trees, which are then dragged by said cables using "steam donkeys" - portable steam engines on skids.)

(In the page below, you can spot a "steam donkey" resting above the woodpile, there on the landing)

But these gigantic goats aren't just built for work - they are tremendously productive milk producers, and their rapid growth rate makes them excellent meat animals, as well. Without the Super Goat, life on the planet Altamira would be a lot less liveable. So give a moment to think about the humble yet intergalactic goats of the Euhumanist league. Spare a moment...

FOR BETTY!

Also, a little reminder, the campaign for the book Betty stars in, "REFUGIUM", goes live this coming tuesday - consider signing up here:

#simon roy #comics #griz grobus #habitat #scifi #kickstarter #sciencefiction #goats #super goat #speculative biology #speculative zoology #specbio #speculative fiction #speculative worldbuilding