#prince writes

"Good pet."

I barely have time for the praise to wash over me before I feel the icy bottle pressed into my inner thigh, just inches from my naked cunt. I let out a sharp gasp. He laughs. Instinctively, my legs twitch inward to shield myself from the cold. They don't make it far before he shoves my thighs wide with practiced ease.

"Keep them open."

I whimper but relax, letting him guide my legs until they're bent above my body and my holes are his for the taking. He keeps my thighs spread as wide as they'll go, leaving me exposed and humiliated. I feel my bladder pulse as my stomach presses down. He pushes my bound hands above my head gently, whispering sweetness to me with a cold glint in his eye.

He sinks out of view as my head tilts back onto a pillow--my world is fuzzy from the weed and the drinks and the high of being his. From a distant world, I hear the clinking of my collar. He's playing with it, flicking the tags.

"You're such a cute pet. So pretty, so desperate, so stupid."

His words are punctuated by an icy attack on my senses as he rests the bottle on my dick. The cold shoots through my body, pushing my head from the pillow to face him with a moan.

"Good, you're paying attention. I thought I lost you there, pet. Color?"

I mumble the closest I can get to green. I never want this to end.

My head sinks back into the pillows and the next thing I feel is his fingertips, still cold from the bottle. He probes at my holes, where I'm sore and leaking from when he used me earlier. The way he's spreading me to expose my pulsing cunt is almost clinical. I blush at the humiliation. He traces his finger through my wetness, pausing to watch me before he presses it deep inside. I cry out as the sensation overtakes my overstimulated and abused hole.

"See, now that's a good slut! This is why I love using you. You'll just take anything, won't you?"

He doesn't wait for a response, he knows the answer. His finger pulses inside my wrecked cunt as his other hand comes to rest on top of my aching bladder. He presses down slowly, forcing a low moan to escape. The sensations blend into one as he fingers me, pressing on my bladder in rhythm. I'm oversensitive and I feel like I'm overflowing, like I'll burst any second. Suddenly, I feel the heat of his mouth on my cock enveloping me. It's too much. I don't have time to ask. I can’t help it, I just-

In the days before the longest night of the year, Vio sets out on a mission to bring Shadow back from the dead.

Happy @fswintersdelight day 4! What a fun day to get in the Four Swords themed event... Wow, you will never believe that tumblr user minish-shadow decided that, for the fae and fantasy elements of this year's themes, they were going to involve the minish.

This fic also has ART; presented below cut because it's a little bit spoilers for the fic outcome... though I'm sure it won't come as too much of a surprise.

Maybe you've even thought about how pleasurable laying them would be, feeling each one crown at your trembling cervix before tauntingly slipping back in or eventually, finally, successfully being pushed through and joining the rest of the growing pile between your legs.

But what if you couldnt have that luxury? Of being able to push out one at a time?

I imagine that drider eggs(and hell, maybe even merfolk eggs), when laid, are still joined and linked from when they were first deposited in your womb all that time ago.

Perhaps this is the first time you and your drider lover are finally pairing like this. You hadn't noticed that the eggs were connected this way because they had started off so small and spaced apart, the head of the ovipositor already inserted firmly through your cervix and spilling egg after egg into your womb. Your mind had been filled nothing but with pleasure at the time, pulled full of eggs and cum and trusting your partner to keep you safe during the process. You hadnt asked, had never thought to ask, and your drider mate had never considered there was any different way to experience laying a clutch to think to warn you.

But now comes the day, where 10 small squishy golfball-sized eggs have grown into large, hard, and heavy soft-ball sized eggs, and they are ready to be laid before they become too big to carry for a first-time clutch.

Little do you realize that with the time these eggs have grown strong and resilient, as drider eggs have evolved to be, the connections between them, too, have strengthened.

It's only when you're sat prepped and ready to lay them-squirming and baring down on the mass within you to position the first of ten to crown through your poor cervix, frustratingly slipping back in again and again and again, until finally, blissfully, it pops through- do you realize something is.. Off.

The egg is not sliding down and out into your mates waiting nest, no, it's sitting there firmly just outside of your fluttering womb. You whine and bare down more, only gasp when it tugs the next egg still within your womb, still connected by a string through your trembling cervix.

And oh.

That? That was not expected. All ten eggs are connected like massive beads on a string, their connection too fragile to pull on but too strong to naturally disconnect during the birthing process.

This feeling of being stretched out around egg after agonizing egg, the only relief coming from every egg that finally exits through your cervix and adds to the growing line of heavy eggs pulling deliciously at your womb and rubbing teasingly at every sweet spot inside you relentlessly. It's torture. It's glorious.

Your mate ensures you stay upright, letting you hold onto them as you gasp and whine and cry over how good it feels, proudly watching over your progress and feeling hot with lust as they watch you birth their young and wanting desprately to fill you up all over again the moment your ready to go again.

Of course, the last and final egg remains the largest of the clutch, refusing to even crown for the longest time and torturing you with the weight of the others pulling so heavily on your womb, your cunt still stretched wide around the few eggs still stuck in your cavern, still linked so firmly together. The rest drape down from your opening, shiny and large and opalecent, so close to finished yet still it's just out of reach.

And then your mate gently sinks his teeth into your neck, flooding you with a small dose of his intoxicating venom, two parts aphrodisiac and relaxant in an attempt to help your body ease the final egg out.

You moan as your cunt quickly gushes with a rush of wetness, shaking as you feel your body relaxing further, and give one last firm push to the egg, eyes rolling as you try and uphold the pressure, feeling it crown slowly but surely.

With an inaudible pop, the egg finally slips through, and the last of the heavy eggs slip out of you in a stimulating rush that, after so long of being on the edge, jolts you straight into a sharp, mind-shattering orgasm.

It likely takes a while for your brain to come back online, but by then your love has already taken care of the eggs and cleaned you up. You come to in their arms, held close and adoringly firm. Your mate is likely absently stroking your hips, sending pleasant tingles up your spine.

He grins down at you lovingly, crooning his praise over how well you did, pressing kisses to your face and chest. Then he groans, deep and heady as he still smells your arousal, and leans in to whisper into your ear, voice deep and rough with heated want.

"I cannot wait until I get to fill you up again, and again, and again. You are even more gorgeous when full of my eggs and so hot when you lay them, I wonder how long until i could keep you full, waiting until a clutch is days before hatching instead of weeks, how big would you be then? How much more gorgeous would your body be, struggling around even just five giant eggs?"

A little raven haired girl sat in her mother's lap, sitting safely by the glowing hearth as nature rages outside, thunder roaring like a wild beast and lighting cracking like celestial whips. "Mamma?" The little girl asks, looking up at her mother's warm eyes. "Yes?" "Why do you always talk to the stars?" "Because they listen." "What does that mean?" The mother sighs wistfully, gazing into the fire, her mind momentarily far away. "Well," she begins, "we all have a star just for us, that listens when we talk. When we wish on that star, the star goes to the fates to speak on our behalf. Sometimes the fates grant us a blessing, and sometimes they do not." The young girl's eyes light up with delight. "Do I have a star?" The mother smiles. "Of course." "Can I tell my star my wish?" "Only when the sky is clear. Stars can't hear us when nature cries. You have to wait until your message can safely reach the heavens." The girl nods, looking out the window at the storm. "Okay." "Just remember to never stop working for your dreams." The mother says, gently stroking her daughters hair. "You're capable of beautiful things, my darling."

...

"Dearest star of mine Plead with the fates divine Let destiny change her mind Let me love my darling, mine"

Part 1 of "Lullaby"

Warnings: None

Word count: 1541

Synopsis: Princeton finishes repairing that old robot the legends brought it. They weren’t expecting a lot, but they didn’t expect this.

Note: Just a short Princeton x Ash fic I felt suddenly motivated to write. I don’t write a lot so it maybe a bit clunky here and there. But I like how it turned out so here ya go! Fic under the cut