Confession time; while I may have started making my girlfriend lunches purely because I love her there’s now a little bit of gay spite involved as well. I want the straight girls she works with to see what they’re missing and hold their men to higher standards.
Literally since my bf saw this he’s started doing other things to model relationship goals for other guys. He’s always been lovely to me, but he’s made more of a point to show off the things we do for each other and raise people’s standards. He told his friend that we make dinner for each other every night and that guy went home and made his gf enchiladas. He posted about doing my laundry while I was at work (he does stuff like that all the time but usually isn’t public about it) and 2 other guys cleaned stuff up before their ladies came home.
Basically what I’m saying is that @solarpunkarchivist has started a chain reaction of straight people doing better and setting better examples and we appreciate it.
My dad has always sung to my mom on their birthday*, their anniversay, and the winter solstice because that’s her least favorite day of the year. He did this well before they got married, and he kept doing it after they started working in the same office building, walking over to her cubicle a few times a year with a dozen roses and singing a love song from broadway or an operetta. More often, he came over with a hot takeout lunch, or fresh salad or a dessert and would double-check who was picking me up today and what Mom wanted him to make for dinner if he was getting home first.
Some men gave him shit about doing that, bitching and moaning about “Maaaaaan you’re raising the bar!” or “Isn’t picking up the kids your wife’s job?” and so on.
But more men- many more men- came to him for advice. “Where did you learn to sing?” “My wife’s allergic to flowers and doesn’t like chocolate. What should I get her for her birthday?” “How did you get time off to pick up your kids early?” “I wanna do something nice for our anniversary, but it’s right before tax day and I never remember and I feel like an ass. How do you remember?” Net, he thinks setting a good example like that ended two relationships and saved five.
Setting a good example is a good idea to inspire people to realize they deserve better, but even better is that there are lots of people out there who want to do better and will glady take notes from you.
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im peanut brittle guy uhhhh. um. I love medieval times trans guys hehe.... maybe orgasmic birth denial? :3 -👽🛸
(A request for anon that donated to my short-lived ko-fi. Thank you king 🙏)
This got me thinking of a classic medieval knight… When he’s inducted into the royal guard, his agreeable personality and keen sparring instinct make him an instant favorite among the other knights. So, it’s no surprise when one of them invites him to his bunk to blow off some steam after a long day patrolling; without much time for romancing maidens, it’s not unusual for the knights to find release with their fellows.
What is unusual is the tight, wet pussy between the new knight’s legs, and the perky little tits that bounce so cutely on his chest when he arches his back and groans to be fucked harder. Word spreads quickly through the barracks, and soon all of the guardsmen are flocking to him, aching to try him.
Our knight ends up heavy-eyed and sleepy during his long patrols, but the others cover for him—after all, they know it’s their fault he’s so poorly rested, since he spends most of his off-duty time pressed between the firm, sweaty bodies of multiple men. Especially after a battle, they often spear him open on two cocks at once, his head bouncing limply on one of their strong shoulders while he whimpers and jerks with the latest in a countless number of orgasms.
His fellow knights are gentlemen, of course, and always pull out, even washing him clean after they stripe his belly and thighs with their seed. But with so many needy, dripping cocks fucking so deep into him, it’s only a matter of time before a slight swell appears just above his hipbones, and he shyly confirms to his questioning lovers that his blood has ceased coming.
The barracks buzz with excitement, musings about who sired the child going quickly by the wayside as each one finds himself caring for the pregnant knight as if he were their husband, and his womb ripening with their own seed. Even those that are at first skeptical of a man bearing a child come around when they lay their hands on the tiny curve of his belly for themselves. As far as anyone is concerned, the child belongs to all of them.
At first, the evidence of the knight’s pregnancy is nothing but a palm-sized bump, detectable only by his most intimate partners. But soon, his growing womb fills out the tunic that was once loose on him, not yet eye-catching, but certainly visible to those who care to look. His chest, too, begins to prepare for the child, tiny tits rounding into tender breasts that must be squeezed into the confines of his chain mail. When his fellows help him out of his armor at the end of a watch, several helpers always stand by, ready to massage his aching breasts, or knead his burdened back, or press their face into his swollen pussy until his tense joints hang pleasure-limp.
His armor seems to grow heavier at the same rate as his womb, his joints straining beneath the combined weight. He struggles, too, to fulfill his duties while so much of his vigor goes straight to forming the babe in his belly. When one day he finally succumbs to his delicate condition and collapses near the end of his watch, the captain of the guard—who has gone to bed with him as often if not more than most of the other guardsman—has him moved to guard the throne room.
Standing on his swollen feet all day still exhausts him, but outside of the occasional uncomfortable shifting as his body aches and his child moves, he draws no attention to himself there. His armor manages to conceal his pregnancy even as his time grows closer—though he imagines the blacksmith who fashioned his cuirass chose its barrel shape to provide empty space for absorbing the impact of enemy swords, not as a vessel to be packed tight with a pregnant belly and milk-swollen breasts. It’s a tight fit, forcing his gut high enough that the child shifts backwards, a strain on his lower spine. They don’t take well to the limited space, protesting with sharp kicks that pinch the wall of his belly against the armor. He longs to rub soothing hands over his bump, but he wouldn’t dare do such a thing while on watch, even if he could reach his belly through the metal.
As the weeks pass, he keeps distending, his child a foreboding point of pressure deep in his pelvis. His belly begins to droop low, and he can’t keep his hands off the raw, stretched skin, scratching at fresh stretch marks and wincing at the growing web of tender veins. The other knights handle him lovingly, often appearing behind him to hold up his belly for a few minutes. In bed, their affections grow gentle, and the pregnant knight becomes accustomed to strong hands caressing his aching breasts while someone’s hard cock grinds ever so gently between his legs, not quite inside him, but giving his clit more than enough friction to have him cumming with a mewling cry.
Finally, he wakes one morning to a great pain in his gut. He screws his eyes shut and clutches the tense surface of his belly, trying to breathe through it without waking his bedmate. When it passes, he rouses the other knight, who helps dress him for his watch. When it comes time to lift his belly as high as he can and compress it against his body so that he can get his armor on, he clenches his jaw and pants through his teeth. His lover, waiting with the cuirass at the ready, asks if he’s okay. He says he will be once he’s dressed.
But that isn’t the case at all. His belly barely fits in the armor anymore, forcing the baby in and down until a terrible pain envelops his pelvic cradle, far worse than his daily aches in these last months. The head of his child feels so, so low.
He prays that the babe will wait to come until his watch ends. In response, another contraction lances through his belly and into his lower back. He barely swallows back his whimper.
But he must fulfill his duty.
He takes his place in the throne room, grateful that his helm conceals the winces and twists of his features as he struggles to endure labor in silence. But it becomes so hot beneath the metal, heady and claustrophobic. He longs to turn and bend over, to hang onto the knight behind him as he rocks his hips. He wants to pace, and groan with his whole chest, and rub his tensing belly.
Hours pass. Vaguely, the knight is aware that if there were an emergency, he would be no help to the king, at this point. All he wants is to be back in his chambers, on his hands and knees, with a midwife comforting him.
When the urge to push overwhelms him, he knows it won’t be much longer. He tries not to, but his body needs it, tugging on the muscles in his belly, tempting his reflexes. He can only resist for so long before finally he indulges in a small push. His mouth falls open as he feels the head of his child lodge suddenly deeper within him, surely passing from his womb into his pussy.
The progress is intoxicating, and he forgets himself after that, pushing as hard as he’s able without moving too much. It’s easier than he thought to stay quiet, the effort stealing his sound from his throat. When a particularly forceful push makes him feel like the head is coming out of him, he finally lets a sound slip, the softest of grunts.
“Is it the child?”
The whisper comes from behind him, a knight much older than him who likes to press extra fingers into his cunt and thumb at his clit when he rides on top.
“Yes,” he breathes, loud as he dares. “It’s- coming out. I think it’s coming out of me.”
Suddenly there’s a hand between his legs. He barely swallows his yelp, a sudden warmth coursing through his body as the large hand feels his cunt through the his trousers. He finds himself very grateful that his tabard hides this impertinence from the court.
“Nothing is coming out,” the knight assures him calmly.
How could that be? “Then soon. I— hng!” He must bite his tongue to keep his cry at bay as the vice closes around him once again, urging the child ever-lower. More heat bubbles up within him as the head fills his pussy and creates pressure behind his clit.
“Oh.” Awe softens the gruff whisper behind him. “I feel it. It’s stretching you.”
“It’s big,” he whispers, struggling not to squirm where he stands. He didn’t expect it to feel like this. It hurts, yes, so much he can hardly bear it, but- this pressure on his most sensitive place… he chews his lip.
With his next push, something gives inside him, a sensation he can’t quite place. Then his thighs begin to grow warm, and he understands. There’s a slight flinch from the hand between his legs, but it steadies again, his fellow knight clearly understanding what’s happened. The babe feels even lower, though there’s less pressure now, somewhat relieving that strange feeling he’s had.
It feels as if barely a minute passes before he contracts again, and he lets his chin fall ever so slightly with the effort of his push. He knows that he shouldn’t do this, that if a babe drops from between his legs before the whole royal court, he’ll be found out and imprisoned, or at the very least stripped of his knighthood. But he can’t help it. He must push, as vital as his breath.
And what a push it is, heaving the head low and making his mouth fall open as the awful stretching pain ignites into the worst agony he’s ever experienced. The pressure, too, increases somehow, right against that special place. His clit, already rendered to a sharp point of pain, begins to twitch and swell all the more.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathes against his visor. Ever so slightly, he rocks his spreading hips and his baby-filled cunt back against his fellow’s hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“I feel it. It’s huge. I can’t believe that’s coming out of you.”
Neither can he. Desperately, he wishes to scream, or drop into a squat, or lay back on the floor and pull his legs as far apart as he can get them. He’s almost relieved when the next contraction comes.
He pushes so hard that his thighs tremble, and wheezes through his teeth as he crowns into his lover’s hand, cunt burning, pressure growing. God, it really feels like he needs to…
No, this isn’t the time. He puts everything he has into breathing without making too much sound, the air thick and thin at once in the confines of his visor.
The next one comes, and the sensation in his clit winds sharper, making him instinctively squeeze his legs together. For a moment he feels like the head is about to burst out behind his thighs, but the knight’s hand stays firm, and the head simply bobs where it is, an instant of relief before it returns to a full crown.
“Hah- aah—“ He feels drool tickle one corner of his mouth. His lover holds the head just-so, keeping his cunt stretched to its absolute limit, burning all the way back towards his arse, and that pressure…!
“Okay,” the other knight whispers behind him, “let me try…”
He begins to push the head back in. The birthing knight flinches, his deepest instincts railing against the sensation, but before he can fully register what’s happening, the widest point of the skull digs into that special spot inside him.
Despite clenching his mouth shut, a high moan buzzes in his throat. His baby-heavy hips roll into his lover’s hand, and jolts of pain shock through his paper-thin pussy lips and the stretched flesh inside of his hole, his clit throbbing so strongly that he would have screamed in any other place.
He cums and cums and cums, until tears wet his cheeks and birthing fluid bursts in spurts from his pussy.
The knight behind him simply whispers, “Fuck,” and lets up, allowing the stimulation to ease, though the returning crown chases all of the pleasure with fiery pain.
The birthing knight is left trembling. He doesn’t even have the strength to push when he contracts again, but his body still manages to nudge the baby forward, and his lover responds again by easing the head back in. Lust and fear flood his chest, unsure if he can handle cumming like that again, but it washes over him all the same.
It goes on like that for the rest of the watch. He doesn’t cum with every contraction, but he feels like he will, sometimes teased for several minutes before the next one hits him. Soon there is no thought in his head but the blinding, white-hot pleasure-pain between his legs, and the ecstasy that keeps flooding his body, even as it shivers with pain.
He doesn’t even notice being dismissed by the change of guard, just starts walking blindly when his companion urges him to move, still holding the baby in. The clatter of so much armor drowns out his groans as his wobbling legs struggle to carry him, his ongoing birth feeling like a boiling welt even as he shudders through the aftershocks of his most recent orgasm.
Knowing they won’t make it back to the barracks, the other knight pulls him into the first empty room they pass and pulls the door shut. As he lays his back against the wall, the birthing knight thinks the babe will simply drop out of him the moment it’s no longer held in, but when the other knight starts using both hands to unfasten the cuisses from his thighs, his battered cunt somehow hangs onto the child’s head.
The left cuisse clatters to the floor, then the right, and the other knight reaches for the laces of his trousers. But his body has already tightened again, and he’s already bending at the knees and finally releasing the gravelly, animal groan that’s been building within him as he pushes. For a moment, he fears the head won’t even fit after all of that, but with one last snap of pain that makes him break into a small yelp, the head is born. It stretches his dripping trousers, a sight that leaves his helper speechless for a moment.
He feels the child turning within him, and cringing at the strange sensation, keeps pushing. A shoulder or an elbow digs into that place that makes his clit jump, and with one last gush of fluid, he cums the shoulders out. The child tumbles into his trousers while his pussy spasms and twitches.
While handing him the child, his companion eyes the tender-red place between his legs, dripping with birthing fluid and arousal. “Next time, we need to make sure everyone sees this. They’re not gonna believe me when I tell them how much our boy likes pushing bastards out of his cunt.”
That cunt tightens, and he squeezes his thighs together and whimpers, cumming to the promise of next time.
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ohmygosh that watermelon one made me think of a whole field of boys filled to the brim with watermelons
But still on the vines tho (because obviously they grow bigger and better when incubated inside a fertile boy) and all of them are miserably watching there bellies grow all different shapes and sizes until its time to harvest and birth the melons and watching their bellies tense up and contract around these prize winning fruits that the farmer just absolutely dotes over and they have to push but not push out like a normal birth since theyre still on the vine they have to push away or even up from the vine to make progress and the farmer taking such good care of his crop holds the boy up into a squat like those partners that hold the birther up into those gravity birth positions
Anywho i totally agree that there isnt a lot of watermelon writing or art, so thank you, its very…refreshing 🤣🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉
ohhh I can imagine them bound to those garden arches people use for vines, strung up with their bellies dangling heavily below them...
They could be held up in a net, or if you're not so nice, you tie them up with no support for their massive, swelling tummies, letting them feel the full weight of the giant melon growing inside them. When the melons are ripe and its time to give birth, they have to fight gravity and push the melons upwards to get them out.
Their bodies are positioned in a way where their huge bellies press up towards their chest and the vine connecting them pulls their back end higher, making it near impossible to push out such a heavy object. They thrash and scream for the farmer to cut them down, bellies swaying back and forth as they push uselessly against gravity, but without the farmers help, none of them can make any progress.
They're at the complete mercy of their farmer, waiting for hours as they labor in hopes he will decide their bellies are ripe enough to pick. Eventually each one is harvested, cut from the arch and left on the ground to writhe and scream and push the huge 15 pound fruit out of their straining tummy.
The farmer cut most of them down, but a handful of unlucky boys are left to continue growing, the ones with the largest fruit filled bellies are picked for competitions. They'll beg and cry and scream for the farmer to let them give birth, their bellies are already so overgrown to bursting, but he knows they can get even bigger. They're left to swell for several more weeks until the melons nearly double in size, weighing over 40 pounds and stretching them until their tummies are translucent. Their finally ready to show off at the competition, where they'll still have to give birth to their massive, oversized fruits.
fun behaviors to give dragons that aren't feline/canine based
cause as much as i love dragons purring and roaring i wish there was just more variety in how they would act
clacking their teeth together to show contentedness/happiness (budgies)
using tails as a defensive weapon in a whip like fashion (iguana)
twitching to express that they're not a threat to members of their species (hognose snake)
feeling calm when eyes are hooded/covered (birds of prey)
head bobbing as a threat display (anoles/bearded dragons)
flattening neck or sides to appear bigger (snakes/lizards)
mantling over food to protect it from hatchmates (birds of prey)
wiggling neck as a courting maneuver (budgies)
audibly grinding teeth as a warning (macaques)
maintained eye contact as a challenge (gorillas)
pounding wings against sides as a threat (gorillas)
slapping other dragons with their claws when their personal bubble is invaded (seals)
hoards used as a site to impress mates (birds of paradise)
snorting when undergoing heightened stress (horses)
making repeated loud noises with surroundings to establish territory (woodpeckers)
loud constant arguments with other dragons when roosting (bats)
building lairs that cause a domino effect of change in the land around them (beavers)
slapping their tails against the ground/water as a warning (beavers)
wiggling tail tip to attract prey (various animals)
wiggling tail tip as a warning (snakes)
plucking or scraping off scales as a sign of stress (parrots)
raising spines/frills as a response to danger and carrying on with their usual business as they believe they're protected (lionfish)
and im not saying canine and feline behaviors are wrong or bad to give a dragon (people wouldn't write dragons with those behaviors if they weren't fun in the first place!) but i feel for creatures that are mythological giant winged lizards that you can do more and get experimental with it. often the more unfamiliar behavior the more dragony the dragon feels
[ID: a screenshot of a comic speech bubble. The black text in it reads "No matter how open-minded, socially conscious, anti-racist I think I am, I still have old learned hidden biases that I need to examine. It is my responsibility to check myself daily for my stereotypes, prejudices and, ultimately, discrimination." /ID end]
antiracism is a constant process. i was raised in a racist village and it's not easy to get rid of it. i moved away over 10 years ago but those ideas are still haunting me.
also keep in mind that shame + guilt are not conducive to growing as a person. when it comes to "checking yourself" it should be a non-judgemental process. it's not about flagellating yourself for every bad thought or trying to purify your mind of all corruption. it's only when acknowledging your own racist thoughts doesn't fill you with dread that you can really progress past the white guilt of it all.
radical self-acceptance & genuine self-critique are not opposites. they need each other. do not let obsessive-compulsive behaviors colonize your desire to grow as a person.
I see a lot on tumblr lately regarding the defense of underage participants in a certain community, as well as the underage participants expressing anger that they are not welcome on NSFW blogs. As a NSFW blogger, as well as someone who has come to know various sex laws due to their career, I thought I would clarify some things:
1. It doesn’t matter what the age of consent in your state is. Age of consent refers to the age that you are able to consent to sexual activity only.
2. Even if you are able to consent at age 16 or 17, by law you are still a minor. Pornography cannot be sold or viewed by minors.
3. If you are under 18 and you post explicit photos of yourself, you can be charged with creating and circulating child pornography, as the images contain a minor.
4. It is normal to have interests in sex and kink, regardless of age. There are safe spaces on the internet to seek these out and ask questions regarding your interests. Spaces where you can communicate with other teens, that are well moderated and do not allow adults to freely graze and prey.
5. As a minor, showing purposeful disregard for another blogger or a website’s request that no minors be present on the site (and for some explicit material, 21 is the age for legal viewership) puts the owner of that blog and/or website at risk. No one wants to see awesome sex bloggers get shut down or sex friendly spaces on the internet get hit for having underage members. Think about more than just yourselves.
If you’re under 18, unfollow me. Don’t argue, don’t flame me, just unfollow. I’ll be the first person to high five you when you turn 18 and we can reminisce about how much it sucked to wait. Until then, peace out.
To all of my Followers. If you are underage, then please unfollow me. No hard feelings at all. Just refollow when you are 18. And please do the same to all the other blogs that you are on. It is an action to keep our blogs safe.
This is a very important post and must be followed. If you are under 18 on our blog please unfollow. We know it sucks but do not jeopardize everyone else’s fun for your lack of self control. We all had to wait, so you must too!
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thinking about a guy filling up his guts in the shower, only to be interrupted partway through by his buddy who needs an urgent favor
he figures it's gonna be something quick, and it's gonna take a while to deflate, so he gets dressed, tries to hide how round he is with a big t shirt, and goes downstairs. he'll just release in a few minutes
turns out, his buddy has his car keys in hand, and it's not a real emergency, he's just excited to drive him somewhere and show him something. "c'mon, c'mon!" he's so excited, he bowls over the guy's hesitation
now the poor thing's in a car ride with nowhere to go, and now that he's seated there's no way to hide how huge and round his churning tummy is
meanwhile, his buddy is trying to suppress a rapidly swelling boner. finally, he can't resist pulling over and offering to bloat his tum up a little more. with his dick, or maybe with the contents of his 30 oz water bottle first
by the time they get to wherever they're going he's prob woozy with how much he's trying to keep inside him. his belly is spilling out from beneath his shirt, gurgling like crazy.
but he's got a new boyfriend that he didn't have before he got in the car, and he kinda wants to see if they can find a little more to pump inside of him before he loses control
Getting super fucking horny thinking about having to hide a rapid pregnancy from my roommates. Getting suddenly heavily pregnant after dinner and having to rush up to my room as my stomach suddenly starts swelling at the dinner table. Just moaning loudly into a pillow as my stomach and tits and thighs expand in the middle of my bedroom. Just becoming so insanely horny locked away in my bedroom rubbing at my sensitive stomach and nipples, leaking and cumming all nigh long at just the incredible size of my pregnant belly. Fuck just forcing myself to hide my growing body. My arousal only growing by the hour. Cumming hard with each growth spurt. Rubbing my thick clit that simply wont stop throbbing and tightening. A fat cock springing up between my legs as my belly fills with triplets. I just want to be so fucking pregnant it’s impossible to control how horny i am.
Two FWB are sleeping together for months until one day, she cuts off all sex with him - doesn't give him a reason why. At first he shrugs it off, he was never invested in the first place, but since they're still friends, he slowly becomes more and more aware that she's pregnant.
She doesn't talk about it until eventually one of their friends gets the courage to ask, and she's pretty casual about it - says she just doesn't want it to take over her social life. She won't say who the father is, even when he pulls her aside and asks if it's him. And he knows her, knows how dirty she keeps her shitty apartment, knows how she barely brushes her teeth, never goes to the doctor - he's so worried, but if she knows he's worried, she'll cut him off.
So he tries to get close the only way he knows how. She's pretty far along, 6 months or more, so no one's expecting her to tag along to the club next weekend. Everyone else keeps telling her to get off her feet, take a break, drink some water, but he knows she wants to feel sexy in that tight little dress that makes her belly look so big. He grinds with her all night until she finally asks to go to his place.
When they're having sex, he knows if he gets too sweet with her belly she'll dash, so he spends the night focusing on her - sucking her tits, eating her out, pounding his cock into her hard. The only time he pays any attention to her belly is when he sucks on her bellybutton, which was already sensitive before she got pregnant.
The next morning, he tells her he won't have sex with her again until she brushes her teeth, he makes her breakfast and sneaks a prenatal vitamin into it, he asks to shower with her and makes sure he scrubs her skin (all while being sexy, of course).
Their fling begins anew from there. Quietly, each step of the way, he's taking care of her, and making her feel good while doing it. She opens up eventually, letting him help her adjust during sex to find a more comfortable position, letting him buy her more pillows for his place so she has the support she needs, letting him lick up and down her sexy belly during sex.
He becomes increasingly convinced she must be carrying twins, but if he tells her that, she'll bolt. She cannot know he's helping her with her pregnancy.
He doesn't know exactly when she's due - between not knowing exactly when she got pregnant and not knowing how many she's having, he couldn't - but when she starts getting contractions frequently (though she always tries to hide them), he decides he needs to check her dilation.
Of course, there's no way to do that subtly. So he just has to pray. He waits until one night when she's really horny, gets her into bed, and she when he goes down to eat her out, he actually slips his hand into her birth canal.
"What the FUCK?!" she yells.
He pulls it out a second later and pulls his head up to grin at her. "You're 5 centimeters dilated," he said. "I'm not leaving this bed til we have our babies."
She freaks out, of course, but he just spends the whole time tracing up and down her body with his lips.
"What do you mean babies?"
He lifts his lip from her nipple just long enough to say, "Shhh," and then goes straight back to sucking. She can't deny that it feels amazing, especially when he draws milk, like right now.
She almost loses herself in it, until he begins moving down her boob, kissing and licking across her belly now.
"It's what your body was made for," he says, rubbing a spot with his hand when he feels the baby (one of the babies?) kick. "It's what you were born to do."
"I'm not a fucking broodmare," she says, right as he sucks the hard nub of her popped-out bellybutton, grazing his teeth across it as he closes his mouth.
"No, but you're having our babies."
She can't think of a response. Of course he knows that he's the father, but she figured he knew she's going to dump them at a firehouse once they're born. What else would she do?
More importantly, though, her belly contracts, and her whole body tenses up.
He takes the role of birth coach, reminding her to breathe. Now that she knows she's halfway dilated, the contractions feel so much more real. He rubs her belly, tells her she's doing a good job, and sucks her tit.
When it ends, she says, "Why the fuck are you here?"
"To make sure my babies come out safely," he said. "And because you're so sexy like this."
He gets her into position so he can both rub her clit and suck her tit. He says nipple stimulation is good for women in labor, but she thinks he's just a perv - though she can't deny it feels good.
The contractions slowly get worse, and she begins moving positions - walking, squatting, using the big yoga ball he'd bought for her despite her protests. Eventually, though, she ends up on the bed, him supporting her from the back, reaching around to rub her belly and her boobs.
"I can feel your boner," she says.
He leans forward and lays a kiss on her shoulder. "It's because you're beautiful like this."
"Fuck off," she grunts as a contraction starts again. He soothes her belly, where a baby is brutalizing her insides. And it definitely isn't the baby descending into her birth canal.
Just as the pressure lessens, she feels a trickle out of her vagina. "My water broke," she says, leaning her head back into his chest and closing her eyes.
"The first baby's almost here. Push when you need it, babe."
"How the fuck am I having twins and I didn't even realize it?"
"Because you were made to carry these babies," he answers as he begins rubbing her nipples again. She moans at the sensation. Part of her wants him to start sucking on them again, but she doesn't want to move positions.
When her belly tightens, he says, "Push if you feel the need. You got this."
Just after that, the urge, no, the instinct to push takes over. Inside her, the head descends past the cervix, and it takes a moment to register what he means when he says, "Make sure you're breathing - gotta breathe, for you and the babies." As soon as she take a breath, he's stroking her hair and praising her, "Good girl. You're doing so well."
She has no choice but to push until the contraction ends. When it does, she relaxes into his body, looking up to his eyes, where he's the happiest he's ever looked.
"You're so beautiful," he says. He's rubbing circles into her sensitive belly. She can barely feel that while the baby's head is in her birth canal - too far back to see, but more than far enough to feel.
"It's so big," she whimpers, and he strokes her hair again.
"You made big babies," he praises. "Good girl, did such a good job."
It takes four cycles of pushing until the head is out, at which point he moves to the other side to cradle it and feel for the cord. On the next push, the first baby, is born - a girl.
"Oh my God, babe, that was so sexy," he says as he wipes her with a towel. "Your body is built for this."
"It fuckin' hurts," she says, words slurred from pain and endorphins. Inside, she can definitely feel another baby wiggling around. Fuck, it hurts.
"Did so good," he whispers as he brings the baby to her chest. She tries to push it away, but he shushes her and says, "Breastfeeding makes birth faster." So he has a breastfeeding fetish, too.
The baby doesn't latch right away, but there's a small break in her contractions while they wait for it to. Once it does, he takes up position on the other side of her body draining the other boob. God, his mouth is just heavenly.
The break is over just after that, though, and she pushes out her next baby, another girl, relatively quickly.
--
He lives right next to a fire station, so he wears a dark hoodie to drop the babies off there before coming back to where she is still resting at the apartment.
He brings her some ice packs, some water, some food, new clothes - whatever she asks for. When she asks to go to her apartment the next day, he drives her there without a complaint.
After she's already sorely walking up the path to her front door, he rolls down the window and calls out, "See you soon!"
She turns back to him and asks, "You know this doesn't change anything between us, right? We're still just friends with benefits."
He smiles at her, almost a smirk, and nods.
"That's A-OK with me," he says. "So long as you let me take care of you next time you get pregnant." And then he drove off.
As she painstakingly pulled her leg up the stair to her porch, she thought that might just come in useful.
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plump little curve of belly pushing over a belt / waistband so unbelievably hot. and if the shirt's riding up a little bit. my god. anyone aware of this
fantasizing about the start and stop feeling of pushing a clutch of eggs out. the first one hurts, but after a few pushes it's out, and it's manageable. you get a few moments of relief, then you have to push again. the pain flares, and it hurts worse because of the time that it was gone, but it's still not too bad. you keep pushing, and you thought they'd get easier, but they don't. each one leaves you more exhausted. by the fifth you're moaning for it to stop for good, but you can feel another dropping down, stretching you out around it. it burns and you push and even when you get it out, that doesn't mean it's over. you have to push again. your massive belly hangs heavy with the weight of all the eggs you have left to get out. you don't know if you can. you push another out, groaning as it drops out of you. by ten you're sobbing, begging. you can't do this anymore. there are too many. you're so tired. another starts to stretch your sore hole and you push, but it's not hard enough and it slips back in. you want it out. someone please take it out. it's a struggle before it finally drops down with the others. but then there's another one. there's another one. there's another one. please just let this end.
