Pregnant - Blog Posts

Got to meet a pregnant black cat yesterday, never loved a cat immediately more in my life

Mha characters as dads 💥🪨⚡️

Genre: fluff

AGED UP AU!

(I didn't write so much bc i didn't have ideas and I was tired XD)

Denki Kaminari:⚡️

-Actually fainted when you told him the news, you had to stop him from short-circuiting three times.

-Will do his best to make you laugh during your hard times into your pregnancy and will not tolerate to see you sad.

-will talk to your belly whenever he gets the chance, you sometimes wake up to him talking to your stomach

-when you have morning sickness he will sprint out of the bed and into the bathroom to comfort you.

-He loves to make cute little nicknames for you, himself, and the unborn baby, he will call you his sea and calls himself men (yall get it? lmao) and calls the baby the result.

-You both agreed on having a water birth at home bc that was how your mom had you (in this au)

-When yall went to a doctors appointment he was really excited to know the gender, but later yall found out you was having twins. You swear you've never seen him smile so much since you got married.

-The day your water broke he was a pacing akward mess, he checked up on you every 5 second and made sure you were okay.

-You leggit almost put a curse on that poor boy when you were nearing 10 centimeters, even if denki was a hero and he'd fight dangerous villains and that stuff you'd never seen him so scared before (XD)

-When it came to pushing he held your hand the hardest he could, he promised you could squeeze his hand as hard you could. But only in a few minute's he was a whining mess about how you were breaking his bones

-When you two heard the twins cry for the first time he was a laughing mess while you were a crying mess, you got two sons.

-the firstborn son was named hiro and the other one was named mio, denki was the first one to hold them (Bc he had your permission ofc)

-Even tho he was awfully in love with his sons and would offer everything for them, they bit. And not even a little, it was like they were born as a wild animal.

-But even if the babies bit, shat, hit each other, cried at night keeping yall up the whole night and cried nonstop.

-He still loved them.

Kirishima Ejirou:🪨

-100% cried when you told him the news, he called everyone he knew and told them the amazing news.

-Always has his hand on your belly, even when it was flat.

-He will always lay in bed with you and blabber about everything he wants to happen (for example, having a girl, the baby being healthy, etc)

-When you had the baby it was the happiest day of his life, and as he wished for, he got a baby girl (not that he wouldn't mind a boy)

-you ended up on naming the baby ria.

-Always has his baby girls in his lap, he will carry ria in his arm and have you in his lap while stroking rias small head with tufts of hair.

-His mother's always comes and visits to help you out with ria when kirishima is out working.

-When you leave kirishima alone with ria she does not want to get feed with a bottle or that formula that tastes ass, she would much rather suck on kirishima's finger til you come home (even though kirishima has tried to feed her multiple times she still does it)

-When Ria turns the age where babies walk he can not say no to those adorable red eyes staring at him. He was a rich pro hero, so why not use it?

-He gets emotional when ria turns 8, he thinks about all the times when she was a baby and always looks throught the baby book of her when she was little, atleast two times a day.

-In the end he asks you for another child, since ria often gets "bored" and she "said" that she wanted a sibling (he completely made it up)

-You often wonder where ria gets her pouting from, when you remember that kirishima Ejirou is your husband.

-You still love them tho.

Bakugo katsuki:💥

(I rushed this, so im sorry if typos!)

-Is completly horrified when you told him you were pregnant with his child, he was afraid that he would be a bad dad and that he would do something wrong. It took you so many hours to reassure him that everything would be fine.

-After he began having more confidence about being a dad he bragged. He bragged about how he was the first in his class to have a child, how lucky he was and that stuff.

-His mom, mitsuki will literally barge into his house just to ignore his yelling and going straight to you to check up on you.

-When you're in your second trimester you have really bad mood swings, you will literally threaten him with a knife from the kitchen and he will just be standing a few feet away from you like🧍‍♂️

-At night when you have cravings he will grumble about how he will not get you ice cream in the middle of the night, when 5 minutes later he will go into the nearest store. (he loves you and you know it🤭)

-At night he WILL have his head on your belly while you're sleeping, listening for the babys heartbeat and movements. (He will always deny it if you catch him)

-One random night your water suddenly broke, you woke up panicked. Beside you was bakugo sleeping, his loud snores very loud (his father roots already showing)

-It. Took. You. Thirty. Fucking. Minutes. To. Wake. That. Bitch. Up.

-You shook his shoulders fast for about 30 minutes before he stirled in his sleep, after not so long he woke up groggily asking what was wrong.

-when you told him his eyes widened and his mouth opened as wide as it could. He was quick out of the bed and grabbing the hospital bag while being careful not to stress you out more than you already were.

-you got in the car and he drove to the hospital, his eyes quickly darting to you a few times. When you arrived he picked you up bridal style and walked right in the doors.

-Nurses gathered around you and walked you to a room where they sat you down and got you comfortable.

•timeskip to when you got the baby bc I'm too lazy to write and + I'm tired•

-when he first saw the baby he couldn't belive his eyes, it looked exactly like him, and brhaved like him too

-The baby locked eyes with her dad, looked him up and down before rolling her eyes and finishing it with a little scowl.

-That was when he knew she was his

I loved it, this is so cute 😻

I figured for the non-fat readers, the yandere elf or elf clan that ended up becoming obsessed with you would lock you up in a cozy captivity and feed you lots of plenty of food and make sure that you are eating well along with lots of love and affection that they give you so that you gain weight and are prepared to finally raise you and have many children of you.

Now, what happens with a reader who has a fast metabolism to the point of having difficulty gaining weight? Or with problems eating?

NSFW

Elf bf with a clan that worships fat women. They’re seen as fertile and signs of good luck, and a way to show that you take such good care of your partner that they are plump and well fed.

So he coos, holding onto your chubby belly and nuzzling into your neck, so happy while you take another bite of some cake he made for you. He just wants to keep you plump and chubby, to ensure he’s taking proper care of his beloved!

He’s deeply in love with the way your tummy jiggles every time he fucks into that fat pussy of yours, and the way your cute chubby cheeks heat up from the whispers of praise he coos into your ear.

“Absolutely stunning, darling…”

Your elf bf absolutely worships your body, grabbing your plump hips and shivering as his lithe fingers sink into your soft flesh.

He’s obsessed with keeping you well fed and happy. He wants to make sure you’re fertile and ready to bear his children, so you have to be nice and plump!

His pretty baby, you’re filling out so well… he couldn’t be happier.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

this one got me so fucking horny idk why but its so fucking GOOD

Which husband do you think wants more children? Yandere Cygnus or yandere Orion. Which of these two men is more insistent on having a son?

YANDERE ORION BLACK / CYGNUS BLACK questions ….

🐍both love you too peace’s however they want some one to rember you and him when you are dead.

🐍in other words a child both wish for a child wanting apart of you and him together through blood.

🐍I believe that they are equally matched in wanting children .

🐍however orion wants a son (an heir) more then Cygnus .

🐍you see Cygnus is happy to just be with you and have a child or two .

🐍but Orion is much darker wanting a son more then anything going to great lengths to gain an heir.

🐍they both love there darlings they truly do but it’s just not enough for them they need MoRe they need you connected to them forever.

🐍seeing you pregnant just absolutely makes them feel proud (and also turned on) don’t be surprised if you hear them talking to others about how extraordinary you are.

Thank you for the questions ❤️❤️

Dean : Hey Sammy!

Sam : *punches Dean in the stomach*

Dean : What the fuck????

Sam : You are my very incredible big brother. And I cannot stand by and watch you throw away your life like this. DEAN You're too young....YOU'RE TOO BEAUTIFUL!!

Dean : What the fuck are you talking about?

Sam : I'm talking about the baby that's growing inside of your belly right now.

Castiel :

Castiel : See ya. *leaves*

Dean :

Dean : I'M NOT PREGNANT!

Sam : Well, not after that punch you're not. I've been taking muay thai classes.

Dean : I was never pregnant, Sammy!

Sam : Are... you sure?

Dean : Yes I'm fucking sure!

Charlie : I'm sorry, but why the fuck is everybody yelling over here?

Sam : Oh, I found this positive pregnancy test and—

Charlie : *punches Dean in the stomach*

Dean : AW, MOTHERFU--

My friend, cousin, and coworker are all pregnant and due the end of this year/ beginning of next and I'm just so happy for them 🥺 it's turning up my baby fever lol

ngnhh

𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐘 (𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭)

▶️ - Ongoing

❄️ - Series

🌻 - Fluff

A/N:I am sorry you had to wait so long for this part hope you like it Angels💞

~~~~~~~~~~~~

𝐉𝐢𝐧:

WordWideHandsomeJin

Likes:974.432❤️  Repost:321.453   Comments:563.478    

WordWideHandsomeJin: I am happy to say that Y/N and Me are going to have a Little Baby Boy!💞I love these two so much!💞

Y/Nie:Aww Jinie We love you too💞

BTS Biggest Fan:Cuteee💜

Jin is handsome:Her bump is  so beautiful 💜

We love Bangtan2134:The Baby is going to be so handsome!!

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢:

MinYoongi

Likes:974.432❤️  Repost:321.453   Comments:563.478    

MinYoongi: Me and Min are going to have a cute Baby Girl in our Family I hope you are all happy about it ARMY because I am🖤

MinMin:Ofc we are happy Yoongi

Y/Nie:Aww Baby You are so cute🖤

Namjoonie:The picture is cute Hyung! I am so happy for you both!

Bts Army Lover:Look at her Bump

𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: Hobi the Sunshine:

Likes:974.432❤️  Repost:321.453   Comments:563.478    

Hobi The sunshine: I am getting a little baby Hope💝 Our Sunshine Boy is going to get so much love.I love her and her bump.💝

CuteHobi:Naww I am exited for you guys!

Y/Nie:Thank you Hobi💝

WordWideHandsomeJin:Y/N you look cute in this dress

Bts Armyyyy12:Aaaaaaaaaaaa we are getting a baby hope

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧:

Namjoonie

Likes:874.432❤️  Repost:621.453   Comments:563.478    

Namjoonie:My Princess and My price and my other Princess💚Yes ARMY My Princess and me Are getting twins💚

MinYoongi: Wow two little babys 1 Namjoon and One Y/N Cutee

Army1234: Wow Joonie is geting twins

Bts65:I hope they have Joonies dimples💚

𝐉𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧:

ChimChim

Likes:974.432❤️  Repost:321.453   Comments:563.478              

ChimChim:Look at Chubs and our Baby Boy in her bump💙I am so soft for them💙

Y/Nie: I am soft for you both too Chim💙

Armx x Bts142:Omg a little Jiminie

Armyyyyyy Jimin:Cuties💙

Jiminie14:The baby has a cute Appa and a beautiful Eomma💙

𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠:

TaeTae

Likes:683.902❤️  Repost:578.932  Comments:623.789

TaeTae:Look at my Tiger with our Baby Girl inside her Bump! I love this bump soooo much and ofc my Y/Nie(She is so beautiful)❣️

Y/nie:Awww my cute TaeTae❣️

Tae131:Wow so cute a baby TaeTae

Btssss708:She is pretty

BtsBigHit:congrats Taehyungie

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤:

JeonJungkookie

Likes:852.780  Repost:652.349  Comments:342.156

JeonJungkookie:My Too babys!💛

Y/nie:You are so Cute Jungkookie💛

LalaBts:Y/n you look so cute in this dress

bts67890:Aww a baby Jungkookie💛

ChimChim:Congrats Kook but do you know the gender yet?

JeonJungkookie answer to ChimChm: No we dont wanted to know Hyung

BTSSSSSSS: I think its a Boy 💙

Atmy x bts.Naaa I thinkk its a Girl💜

Okey Guys I hope you like it~

What do you think the is Gender of Kookies Baby?~

I purple You💜~

Ha-Neul.~

This outbreak is not sparing anyone! If you are a breeder and feel a suddenly swelling or mass under your navel, please be aware you are potentially inseminated!

Parasite growing inside host

Woah what's dis!? A wild polar bear protecting his pregnant mate! :O

Love these two sm. Don't mind the Captain he's just protecting his treasure.

My cats giving birth!!!! Aaaaahh!

My cats pregnant, and I just realized that it gives me more kitty to pet!!!? How did I just realize that now?! She's so fluffy!

Mamma Naga

Meglio coi capelli sciolti o con la treccia?

Не го

my heart, this is so cute 🥲

Knight in Red Leather

Summary: You and Matt have been through a lot during your two years of marriage yet Matt continues to show how perfect he is for you.

Warnings: absolute fluff with maybe a dash of angst through an over bearing mother

Reader: Pregnant Female Reader

Pairings: Female Reader x Matt Murdock

A/n: Enjoy!

Masterlist

“Where do you come up with these combinations?” You mutter to your protruding stomach. You wobbled into the kitchen near midnight with your hair messier than a rats nest and your night shirt hanging off your shoulder. You winced when you turned on the kitchen light before waddling toward the cabinets. When you opened it you vaguely remember Foggy going on and on about how you and Matt had the most random food options imaginable. You just pointed to your stomach and grumpily told him it was your daughters fault.

You daughter wasn’t even born yet and she was already a handful. This pregnancy was far from easy. She was constantly restless, constantly hungry and you were always uncomfortable. Your pregnancy honeymoon period had come and gone faster than a blink of an eye. Now you wanted the baby currently bouncing on your bladder to pop out so you can have your body back to yourself. You couldn’t remember how many times you snapped at Matt telling him he wasn’t ever getting lucky again and that he should just get his balls snipped cause they were useless at this point.

Now that you think about it you’ve snapped at Matt quite often and a sliver of guilt hit you but it passed when you remembered how hungry you were. Savaging the kitchen for the perfect food combination you began to put together something that should be illegal but to you it was mouthwatering.

You took your food and lowered yourself in the kitchen chair. You propped you annoyingly swollen feet up and slouched in your seat. Your head lulled back and your eyes searched for the clock. It was closer to one in the morning by now and you wondered how time had flown by so quickly. You weren’t expecting Matt back for another couple of hours. You missed him but you knew he had a city to take care of.

You know what they say - Think of the Devil -

You grin sleepily when you hear the window slide open and your husband slips in. He closes it behind him before promptly locking it. He takes off his mask and wanders over to the kitchen. He breathes in deeply before chuckling at your choice of food. His fingers brush along the seat your feet are on. You watch him bend down, wrap his hands around your legs, lift them and rest them on his lap.

“Quiet night?” You ask softly, moaning when his hands work their magic on your feet.

“For the most part,” He nods, his eyes wondering aimlessly but in your general direction. You loved his eyes. They were always searching for you and you always got lost in them. “Baby keeping you up again?”

“I guess we just both missed you,” You whisper, feeling your daughter settle at the sound of his voice. You didn’t blame her, Matt had one of the most soothing voices in the world.

“Are you done with your snack?” He asks. You hum tiredly, looking at him through half open eyes. “Alright then, time for bed, sweetheart,” He stands up and lifts you in his arms.

“Look at you, my strong man,” You moan, curling into his arms. Your head snuggles into his neck. You grin when you feel his chest puff proudly. You kiss his neck while he carries you to your bedroom. “My mom called after you left,” You whispered. You almost laugh when his chest deflates.

“Let me guess, she’s coming over tomorrow,” He grumbles.

“Is foresight one of your abilities, Mr. Murdock?” You ask. He huffs out a laugh and lowers you onto the bed gently. “She won’t stay long,” You promise. Your eyes stay attached to him as he undresses out of his Daredevil outfit. “She’ll come for lunch, we’ll have a conversation that will eventually turn to rude comments, I’ll lose my pregnant brain and snap. She’ll get all offended and we’ll be free from her for a few weeks,”

“Or we could just tell her that she can’t come over,” Matt suggests.

“As if that’ll stop her,” You laugh. “Maybe we should just move and hide,” You suggest.

“She’d sniff us out,” Matt shakes his head. You laugh again before quietly agreeing.

Your mother was far from the easiest person to handle. She was a pressurer and nobody was ever good enough for her, especially not Matt. She knew he had a dark side and that he was hiding something. She just couldn’t understand that he was only hiding things from her and not you. She was also shallow enough to hate the fact that he was blind, though she’d never admit it. She wanted you with someone who could take care of you, not who you had to take care of. She just didn’t understand.

“We have to set some boundaries before the baby is born,” He says, laying beside you.

“I know,” You whisper, cuddling into him. His arm wraps around your stomach protectively. He kisses your head then down along your neck to your shoulder before snuggling into the crook of your neck.

“I love you,” He whispers, holding your close. You mutter back to him but the words are incoherent as you fall asleep. He laughs softly, kisses you again before falling asleep.

You’re both rudely awakened by bounding on the door. Matt startles awake and goes to spring into action when he realizes it’s just your mother. He groans falling back onto the bed.

“If we’re really quiet she’ll go away,” You whisper, hiding under the covers. You both know that’s a lie.

“I love you,” Matt says. “But I can’t handle this anymore,” He groans climbing out of the bed.

“Matt?” You ask, popping your head out from under the comforter.

“Just stay in bed sweetheart,” He says pausing by the door. His head turns over to you. “I’ll handle this,”

“My knight in red leather,” You whisper. He smirks before turning towards the door. You listened to his feet padding along the floor towards the door.

“Oh, hi Matt,” You hear your mother say. Unwilling to just stay in bed you roll, quite literally, out of bed. You quietly move through the apartment and look towards the door. You couldn’t help but grin when Matt subtly shifted to hide you from your mothers eyes.

“Today’s not a good day to visit,” Matt told her. “In fact, we’re gonna have to wait a few weeks before another visit. The birth is getting closer and Y/n’s more tired as of late,”

“Which is exactly why she needs me,” Your mother states. “She needs someone to take care of her,”

Your teeth tug on your lip as Matt subtly tenses. She never failed to piss him off, especially when she hints at the fact that he can’t care for you. You shake your head at her naivety. Matt did so much for you that you hardly had to lift a finger to do anything. You usually had to tell him to look after himself after all the time he spends looking after you and the city.

“I’m here,” Matt says in a finality voice. “I’ve been her husband for the last two years and I’ve looked after her since college. I have always had her best interests in mind and she’s in good hands. Why don’t you go back to the tanning salon? You’re looking a little pale,” Matt closes the door in her face and you release a string of giggles.

“Is she as offended as I think she is?” You ask him quietly as if she could possibly hear your voice through the door. Matt turns his head slightly and smirks.

“She’s just called me a blind fool for the third time and she hasn’t even reached the second flight of steps,” Matt says and you giggle again.

“Have I told you how much I love you, Mr. Murdock?” You ask, waddling over to him.

“Not this morning,” Matt teases, encircling his arms around your waist.

“I,” You whisper kissing his chin. “Love,” You kiss his nose. “You,” You kiss his lips. “You perfect, perfect man,” You mumble. He gives you that cocky grin of his and he kisses you once again but even deeper. “You deserve a cooked breakfast,” You peck his lips before slithering out of his grip. He whines and follows you into the kitchen. You grab a pot to cook with only to feel you ass being smacked. “Matthew!” You jump and he smirks hugging you from behind.

“I do want breakfast,” He mutters, kissing you shoulder.

“You better keep those hands to yourself, mister,” You warn him. “You’re the reason we’re in this mess,”

“Me?” He chuckles. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one that jumped me,” He mutters in your ear.

“Oh really?” You ask and he hums. “Nevertheless, keep those hands to yourself,”

“Really? You want me to let go?” He asks. You open your mouth to answer when suddenly his hands lock under your eight month pregnant stomach and then leans back. You moan like a whore when he takes the weight of the baby. Instant relief fills you as presser is taken off your feet and back. You don’t hesitate to lean against Matt. He shuffles slightly to take as much of your weight as he can. “Want me to let go?”

“Don’t you fucking move,” You grumble, laying your head on his shoulder. He lays his head against yours. “You’re the perfect man, Matt Murdock,” You whisper. He chuckles.

“I do try, sweetheart,” He whispers in your ear. He kisses your cheek and continues to hold you as long as you’ll let him.

The pregnant stingray mystery has been solved

so there was a female stingray in an enclosure with 2 male sharks.

somehow it got pregnant.

did the sharks hybridise or was it a virgin birth?

neither!

stingrays can hold their breath for several minutes.

they can also leap and climb to a small degree.

the stingray escaped its enclosure, entered the male enclosure, had some fun, and then went back home.

You cannot make this up.

Pregnancy: Daichi (NSFW)

You were officially forty-one weeks pregnant.

Forty-one weeks. Not thirty-nine. Not even the neat, ominous weight of forty. No, you had blown straight past your due date like a train with no brakes and were now living in the swollen purgatory of maternity hell—bloated, achy, short-tempered, and so fed up with your body that you would’ve gladly traded it in for a paper bag and a nap.

Your body ached in places you didn’t know could ache. Your back felt like it had been used as a trampoline in the night. Your hips were stiff. Your feet looked like they belonged to someone who’d spent ten hours standing in a swamp. And your belly? Your belly felt like it had become its own planet, stretching your skin so taut you were convinced you could drum a beat on it.

Nothing fit anymore. Not your clothes. Not your shoes. Not even your own skin, if you were honest. Your maternity leggings had officially waved the white flag. Your bras were lost causes. Your wedding rings had been stashed in a drawer weeks ago, too tight to slide over even a knuckle. And the seatbelt? Daichi had to adjust it for you now, like you were precious cargo—though to be fair, at this point, you basically were. He was careful and considerate and just a little too cheerful about it all, which made it even more infuriating.

“Got everything?” he asked softly, adjusting the strap of your maternity bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

You didn’t look at him. You didn’t smile. You didn’t even grunt. You groaned—a long, low, theatrical sound of suffering as you slowly lowered yourself into the passenger seat like an elephant easing into a beanbag chair.

He took it in stride. He’d stopped taking anything personally around week thirty-seven.

Still, he reached across and placed his warm palm on your thigh once you were settled, rubbing his thumb in slow, steady circles. You didn’t push it away. You rested your hand on top of his and gave him a tired look that said, If I have to live in this body one more day, I will cry.

The car ride to the clinic was mostly quiet. You sighed a lot. Adjusted the air vents. Rolled down the window. Rolled it back up. Turned the A/C colder. Then warmer. Daichi drove patiently, sneaking occasional glances at you like he wanted to say something encouraging but also very much wanted to survive the day.

The clinic’s waiting room was somehow worse than usual. The chairs were uncomfortable, the light was too bright, and the cheerful wall art—baby elephants, pastel hearts, encouraging quotes in cursive—made you want to scream. You stared at the pamphlet beside you titled “Smiling Through the Third Trimester” with a level of disdain typically reserved for war crimes.

Daichi sat beside you flipping through a magazine that he absolutely wasn’t reading, occasionally peeking at you with quiet concern while trying not to make eye contact with the receptionist, who kept looking at you like you were a ticking time bomb.

When the nurse finally called your name, you heaved yourself up with a groan and waddled toward the hallway like a warrior going into battle. Daichi followed at a polite distance, like a man who knew better than to walk too close to a woman this pregnant and this pissed.

The exam room felt like a refrigerator. You plopped down on the crinkly paper with another long sigh, then glared at the stirrups like they’d personally wronged you. Daichi sat in the chair next to the table and gently rubbed your back, his thumb tracing light circles over your spine.

“Almost there,” he murmured, ever the optimist. “Just hang in a little longer.”

You turned your head to him, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and fury. “I swear to god, Daichi. If one more person tells me I’m almost there, I will throw something. Possibly this table. Possibly you.”

He only smiled through it, squeezing your hand like he hadn’t just been threatened with airborne furniture.

When the doctor entered, she was all serene smiles and clinical calm, her tone chipper and maddeningly upbeat.

“Well,” she said after a quick check, “good news is you’re making progress. The baby’s definitely settling into position. But you’re still not quite there yet. I’d give it another few days.”

You stared at her like she’d just told you the world had been cancelled.

“More days?” you repeated, your voice a cracked whisper. “As in, plural? Like… multiple?”

The doctor gave a warm little chuckle. “It’s different for everyone, but yes, could be a few more. You’re doing great, though.”

Your jaw dropped. You made a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a scream, your hands clenching the edge of the table like it might steady you.

The doctor handed Daichi a brightly colored handout titled “Natural Ways to Encourage Labor.” It had illustrations of smiling pregnant women doing yoga and eating pineapple.

“Try some of these at home,” she said kindly. “Spicy food, gentle movement, maybe a warm bath. You’re almost there.”

Daichi nodded like the polite, helpful husband he was, tucking the paper into your maternity bag as you stood slowly, moving with the weary determination of someone who had carried life for too damn long.

The walk back to the car was slow and tense. You didn’t speak. You didn’t look at anyone. The receptionist offered a cheery “Good luck!” as you left and you very nearly flipped her off.

When Daichi helped you into the car again and got you buckled in, you exhaled long and hard, the sound more like a groan of existential dread than a sigh.

“I’m going to die pregnant,” you said flatly, head tipping back against the seat as your eyes glazed over. “This is it. This is how it ends for me. Swollen and sweaty in the passenger seat of a Toyota.”

“No, you’re not,” he said gently, lips twitching as he reached over to adjust your seatbelt one last time. “You’re going to give birth soon, and then this will all feel like a weird dream.”

You turned your head just enough to shoot him a dry look. “A weird dream where my hips feel like they’re being sawed in half and I haven’t seen my own feet in two months?”

He chuckled under his breath, brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m just saying, you’re doing amazing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you snapped, though your voice lacked real venom. “I look like a pufferfish and I cry every time I drop something on the floor because I can’t pick it up anymore.”

“I pick it up for you,” he said, unbothered.

“Yeah, and I still cry!” You groaned louder, tossing your head back again. “I’m like a feral raccoon in maternity leggings. I can’t keep living like this.”

“You’re not a raccoon,” he said with a straight face. “You’re majestic. Fearsome. A hormonal goddess.”

You snorted so hard it startled a hiccup out of you. “Oh my god.”

“And soon,” he added, leaning closer to kiss your temple, “you’ll be holding the baby and none of this will matter.”

You didn’t move. You just stared up at the ceiling.

“Watch me die pregnant,” you said again. “They’ll write it on my tombstone.”

--

By the time you made it home, your mood had not improved. You kicked your shoes off at the door, grumbling as you peeled off your coat and waddled into the kitchen, leaving Daichi to trail behind you, pamphlet in hand and hope still stubbornly etched into his expression.

“Okay,” he said as you slumped down at the kitchen table, head in your hands. “Let’s try some of these. Worst case, they don’t work. Best case? Maybe we’ll get things moving.”

You didn’t respond right away. Just groaned into your palms.

He set the paper down gently in front of you. “It says spicy food might help. We could start there?”

You looked up with bloodshot eyes. “I want something violent. Like pepper-spray levels of spice.”

Daichi raised his eyebrows. “I’ve got extra hot chili ramen packets. You could probably weaponize them.”

“Perfect,” you growled. “Boil ‘em.”

Ten minutes later, you were perched on the couch with a bowl of nuclear noodles while Daichi sat beside you with his own, bravely taking a bite. He lasted all of three seconds before coughing into his fist, eyes watering.

“Oh my god—this hurts,” he rasped.

You, completely unaffected, slurped up another bite. “Nothing. Not even a twinge.”

He blinked at you, face red. “I’m going to need milk. And possibly CPR.”

You sighed and set the bowl aside. “Next idea.”

And so began the ridiculous journey.

You drank herbal teas that smelled like dirt and despair. You choked down thick slices of pineapple while muttering curses under your breath. You did the hip-opening stretches the pamphlet suggested, groaning with effort and telling Daichi that if this didn’t work you were going to shove a yoga ball down the stairs. He helped you do slow laps around the living room, hand on your lower back while you walked in increasingly impatient circles.

You even tried the dreaded castor oil. One teaspoon. Two. Mixed into orange juice so it wouldn’t taste like paint thinner. You gagged, glared, and gagged again. Daichi looked horrified but held the glass steady like he was assisting with a medical emergency.

Hours passed. The sun dipped lower in the sky. You had tried every single item on the pamphlet short of hiring a witch to chant over your uterus. And yet—nothing. No contractions. No discomfort. No sign the baby had any plans of evacuating. Just the same heavy weight in your belly and the constant ache of your ribs.

You threw yourself back onto the couch with a long, miserable sigh, your belly rising and falling like a dramatic mountain of defeat.

“This baby,” you declared, voice scratchy with exhaustion, “is never coming out. This is it. They’ve made a permanent home. They’re going to graduate college still inside me.”

Daichi, kneeling next to the couch, chuckled softly and leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Can you blame them?” he murmured. “You’ve made them a pretty amazing home.”

You blinked at him, half-touched and half-annoyed. “That’s not helpful.”

He grinned and sat back on his heels, picking the pamphlet up again with exaggerated patience. “Well, if they’re not leaving on their own, we’re gonna have to evict them.”

You groaned dramatically. “We’ve tried everything. I’ve eaten enough pineapple to singlehandedly wipe out Hawaii’s exports. I drank that weird tea that tastes like boiled weeds. I took castor oil, Daichi. Castor. Oil. Nothing works.”

He hummed, eyes skimming down the page.

Then he paused.

You watched as his brow arched just slightly.

“…What?” you said slowly.

He cleared his throat. “Well, technically… we haven’t tried everything.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He turned the pamphlet toward you and pointed at a single line with a very straight face.

“Intercourse may help induce labor.”

You stared. Then looked at him. Then back at the pamphlet.

Your eyes narrowed, your lips pressing into a line as the wheels in your head began to turn. For a long moment, you didn’t say a word. But something changed—visibly, unmistakably. Your posture shifted. Your breath stilled. Your entire demeanor settled into something focused, determined, just a little bit unhinged.

Daichi saw it immediately. He watched the transformation like someone witnessing a weather shift, like a man who’d seen the sky turn before a storm. His back straightened. His eyes went wide. He held up one hand as if you were a wild animal and he needed to de-escalate the situation.

“Babe—let’s just think this through—”

You sat up slowly. Deliberately. Every movement a signal.

Your voice dropped, calm but commanding, your eyes locked on his.

“…Get upstairs.”

Daichi followed you up the stairs like a man walking toward something both holy and terrifying.

You didn’t speak. Just kept your back straight, your breath steady, your feet deliberate on the steps. Every part of you radiated heat—rage, desperation, need. By the time you reached the bedroom, you were already tugging off your shirt, grumbling under your breath as it got stuck around your chest. You were a force of nature, belly full and breasts heavy, skin flushed with exertion and irritation.

“Help me,” you snapped, voice breathless.

Daichi was at your side in a second, pulling the fabric over your head, his hands lingering for just a second too long on the bare curve of your shoulder. It had been a while since the two of you had made love—between the fatigue, the constant discomfort, and the way your body had become less your own and more a vessel of life, intimacy had taken a quiet backseat. You missed it. Missed him. And he missed you—his touch tentative and reverent, like he was savoring the moment as much as you were. You turned to him, eyes burning.

“This baby is coming out tonight,” you said, voice low and deadly serious. “So get on the bed.”

He hesitated—not because he didn’t want to. He wanted to. God, did he want to. But his eyes kept flicking to your belly, the way it rounded out so full and taut, the faint sheen of sweat already glistening along your collarbone.

“Are you sure?” he asked, hand resting against your waist, careful and reverent. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you said, grabbing him by the wrist and guiding him toward the mattress. “And if you do, I won’t care. I need this.”

He let out a shaky breath as you pushed him down onto the bed and climbed over him. The tension between you was thick, every inch of skin electric. Months of abstaining made everything heightened—your nerves tingled where his fingers grazed your hips, and his breathing hitched every time you shifted above him. His hands went instinctively to your thighs as you straddled him, palms warm and wide and trembling just slightly.

You leaned down to kiss him, hard and fast, teeth scraping his bottom lip as you ground your hips against his crotch. He gasped, his body already responding beneath you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Good,” you muttered, dragging your fingers down his chest. “Then we’ll die together.”

He chuckled breathlessly, then hooked his fingers in your waistband, easing your underwear off your hips with slow, reverent care. When he touched you, his fingertips sliding through the wet heat between your thighs, he exhaled like he was in awe.

“You’re soaked,” he whispered, voice tight, eyes dark with restraint.

“I’m ready,” you breathed, rolling your hips into his touch.

He didn’t argue. He pushed his boxers down and kicked them off, his cock thick and flushed against his stomach. He gripped it at the base, ready to guide himself in, but you brushed his hand aside and positioned yourself with shaking thighs.

“Let me,” you murmured.

And then you sank down, slow and deep, the stretch sharp enough to make you gasp. Your hands clutched his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as you took him all the way in, inch by aching inch.

Daichi groaned, low and guttural, his head tipping back against the pillows. “Jesus, you’re so tight—fuck—”

You paused, hips resting flush against his, just breathing. The fullness was overwhelming, perfect, exactly what you needed.

When you started to move, it was unhurried. The sensitivity of not having touched like this in weeks made every motion feel magnified—every grind, every squeeze, every brush of skin set fire to your nerves. You both gasped more than once, surprised by how much you'd missed this, missed each other. Deep, rolling thrusts that had you grinding down with every motion, drawing small sounds from your throat as your body adjusted to the rhythm.

Daichi’s hands moved to your waist, holding you steady, thumbs stroking gentle circles along your skin.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice shaky. “You’re carrying our baby, and you still want me like this?”

“I don’t want you,” you corrected breathlessly. “I need you.”

Your pace picked up, just slightly, each roll of your hips drawing gasps from both of you. The bed creaked under the rhythm, your swollen belly brushing against his chest every time you leaned in to kiss him, desperate and messy and aching.

He slid one hand up to cup your breast, thumbing over your nipple until you arched into him. Your moan was sharp, needy, your body clenching tight around him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, fingers tightening on your hip. “You’re so—god, you feel so good.”

You chased the friction, riding him harder, faster, the pressure building between your legs in thick, pulsing waves. He met your thrusts now, his hips lifting off the bed, his face buried against your neck as he groaned into your skin.

When your orgasm hit, it slammed through you like a tidal wave, your body locking up around him as you gasped his name, trembling all over. He held you through it, rocking you gently, murmuring praise into your shoulder until your shudders turned to aftershocks.

Then he flipped you gently onto your back, careful with your belly, bracing himself above you as he drove into you with long, deep strokes, chasing his own edge.

You watched him through hooded eyes, heart racing, mouth parted in a soft, dazed smile. He looked wrecked—sweat-damp hair, flushed cheeks, jaw clenched with restraint as he fucked you slow and deep.

“I’m close,” he warned, voice fraying. 

You cupped his face, nodding, heart still thudding from your own climax. “It’s okay. Come inside me. I want to feel you.”

With a broken sound, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning your name as he came, thick pulses filling you, his body trembling with release. You wrapped your arms around him as he collapsed slowly beside you, one arm still curled protectively across your middle, his breath hot against your shoulder.

Neither of you said anything for a long while. The room was warm and quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of your breathing. His hand smoothed over your belly, the rise and fall of it still unsteady. You were both flushed, glistening with sweat, chests heaving.

You turned your head toward him slightly, letting out a huff of a laugh. “Well… at least I feel better.”

Daichi huffed a laugh, his voice still rough. “Honestly? Same. Not sure if we jumpstarted labor or just obliterated our spines, though.”

You both lay there for a beat longer, catching your breath, limbs tangled, and the faint hum of calm settling over you.

Eventually, you shifted, groaning softly as you sat up on your elbows. “Okay,” you said, voice still breathy, “I should probably clean up—”

And then it happened.

A sudden, warm rush.

You blinked. Froze. Looked down.

“…Oh my god,” you whispered. “Daichi.”

He sat up slowly, still half-lost in the afterglow. “Hmm?”

You stared at the sheets beneath you, soaked through in a way that was definitely not from sex.

“My water broke,” you said, blinking again. The shock in your voice cut through the air.

Daichi’s head snapped toward you.

“My water broke,” you repeated, louder this time, voice rising in panic. “Daichi, my fucking water broke.”

The adrenaline that had left your limbs warm and loose now twisted into pure, electric panic.

He was moving before you could spiral further, sitting up and cupping your face with both hands.

“Hey, hey—look at me,” he said quickly, steadying your breathing with his voice. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You nodded, dazed, still processing the rush of adrenaline and disbelief. Just moments ago, you had been begging for something to happen—for anything to finally signal the end. And now that it had, now that it was really happening, your heart felt like it might explode with the sheer weight of it. You had wanted this so badly. You had cursed the waiting. And yet now, the second it arrived, you were caught somewhere between terror and awe.

“I wanted this,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “I wanted this to happen.”

Daichi brushed a strand of damp hair away from your face, smiling warmly. “You did. And now it’s happening.”

You exhaled a shaky laugh, voice cracking. “I’m terrified.”

“I know,” he said, cupping your cheek with a hand as steady as his voice. “Me too. But we’re ready. You’re ready.”

You nodded again, tears welling in your eyes, this time from joy—not just from fear or exhaustion. You were going to meet your baby. Tonight. Maybe in just a few hours.

Daichi pressed a kiss to your forehead before swinging his legs off the bed, already grabbing the overnight bag he had packed and repacked a dozen times.

“Let’s go meet our baby,” he said, voice warm and certain.

And this time, you smiled through the chaos. Because it was finally happening—and you weren’t doing it alone.

Pregnancy: Yaku

It was supposed to be one of your favorites.

Yaku stood proudly in front of the stove, dishing up a steaming plate of oyakodon—fluffy egg, juicy chicken, perfectly seasoned rice. You’d been craving something warm and comforting, and he’d been more than happy to oblige. He even made miso soup on the side, garnished just the way you liked it, with the little tofu cubes floating lazily in the bowl. The apartment smelled like soy sauce and dashi, rich and nostalgic.

You waddled into the kitchen with one hand on your lower back, the other absentmindedly tracing the edge of your growing bump, already smiling at the scent you knew so well.

But then—

It hit you.

The smell.

Hard.

You stopped short. The smile slipped from your face. Your nose crinkled, your eyes went wide, and your stomach lurched.

You gagged once, loud and sudden.

Yaku turned from the stove instantly, eyes narrowing with alarm. “Hey—are you okay?”

You waved him off, trying to speak, trying to play it off like you could power through it.

“Yeah, I just—” You gagged again, louder this time, one hand flying to your mouth. “It’s fine, I think I just need a second—”

Then your stomach gave up entirely.

The rich scent of simmered egg and soy sauce suddenly turned rancid in your senses, and before you could say a word, both hands flew to your mouth. You staggered toward the sink, breathing hard through your nose.

Yaku turned just in time to watch you sprint the rest of the way.

You barely made it. Gripping the edges of the basin, you gagged violently, doubling over as your body heaved with no warning. Your knees buckled slightly from the effort, and tears sprang to your eyes as you fought to keep control.

“Oh—oh my god,” Yaku choked out, dropping the plate onto the counter with a sharp clatter. His hand hovered midair, frozen, like he wasn’t sure if he should run toward you or flee entirely.

He chose you.

“Hey, hey—it’s okay,” he said, voice slightly high-pitched, his mouth tugging awkwardly to one side as he fought against his visible discomfort. His nose wrinkled despite himself, but he pressed a hand to your back, rubbing slow, shaky circles. “It’s okay. Just breathe. You got it.”

You were sobbing before you even lifted your head.

“I loved that dish,” you wailed, tears streaming freely now. “You made it perfectly and I—I threw up in front of you, and I can’t even eat it now, and I’m so sorry—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said quickly, helping you upright and handing you a cool cloth from the fridge. “None of that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You wiped your mouth, sniffling. “But I ruined dinner.”

He glanced warily at the plate, now abandoned and beginning to cool. “Yeah, well, it’s not my best memory of oyakodon anymore, but that’s fine. It’ll survive.”

You hiccupped a wet laugh. “You’re grossed out.”

“I’m... challenged,” he admitted with a strained smile. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’ll gag quietly in the corner if I have to.”

You buried your face in his shoulder. “I hate that my body’s doing this. I hate that I wanted something so badly and then just—rejected it like that.”

He stroked your back, gentler now. “It’s not rejection. It’s just... a rebranding.”

You pulled back slightly, puffy-eyed. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” he said, tipping your chin up, “that we’re finding new favorites now. So tell me what you can stomach, and I’ll make it happen.”

You hesitated.

“…You’re not gonna like it.”

“I just watched you throw up mid-step and I stayed. Try me.”

“…Pickles.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

“With peanut butter.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And crushed ice.”

He blinked. “Separate or…?”

“Side dish.”

“Of course.”

“And I want a plain bagel. But I want to dip it in cream cheese and ketchup.”

He exhaled. “Naturally.”

“And maybe some frozen corn niblets? Not cooked. Just... straight from the freezer.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Making a list.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted, already walking to the counter. “Because you’re growing a whole human, and apparently that human is very specific.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Even if I hate this list.”

And with that, he kissed your temple, grabbed his keys, and set off to hunt down every absurd craving you’d dreamed up—with only a faint grimace and a stomach made of steel.

--

It took him two corner stores and a specialty deli, but Yaku returned triumphant, arms full of grocery bags and a look of determination on his face. He laid everything out on the coffee table like it was a five-star buffet: pickles, peanut butter, crushed ice in a big bowl, a plain bagel, cream cheese, ketchup, and a bag of frozen corn.

You were already curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies, and your face lit up like the sun when you saw it all. “Oh my god,” you gasped, reaching for the pickles first and dipping one straight into the peanut butter without hesitation. “This is perfect.”

Yaku sat on the edge of the couch, watching with a blend of horror and awe as you crunched down on your Frankenstein meal with pure, genuine joy.

You munched happily, cheeks puffed out, eyes dreamy as you chewed. “Oh my god, I love you so much.”

He smiled, soft and full of affection. “I love you too.”

Then, quieter, barely a mumble as he stared at the bagel going into the ketchup-cream cheese dip: “This kid is gonna be weird.”

Pregnancy: Atsumu

You’re two months pregnant and absolutely glowing. There’s a nervous excitement in your every breath, your hand constantly drifting over your still-flat belly as if to check that it’s real. That there’s really a little life growing inside you. A little Miya, curled up and getting bigger by the day.

You’re in the passenger seat of the car, heading toward your very first ultrasound appointment. The windows are down, and the soft spring breeze is curling through your hair as the late morning sun streams through the windshield. Everything feels light. Hopeful. Surreal.

Atsumu is driving one-handed, his other resting on your thigh, thumb tracing idle circles against your leggings. He hums quietly to the radio, lips twitching into a smile every time he glances over at you.

“Y’know,” he says after a moment, “I been thinkin’ about what kind of nose they’ll have. Hopefully yours. Mine’s too pointy.”

You let out a soft laugh, the kind that bubbles up without effort. “As long as they don’t have your drama.”

“Hey!” he protests, though he’s still smiling as he squeezes your leg. “They’re allowed a little flair. They are mine, after all.”

You roll your eyes fondly, fingers tangling with his at the next red light. He lifts your joined hands to press a kiss to your knuckles before driving on.

When you pull into the clinic parking lot, your nerves start to set in—low and creeping. It’s your first time seeing the baby. Hearing a heartbeat. It makes everything feel suddenly, painfully real.

The waiting room is quiet, with soft instrumental music playing and the smell of hand sanitizer hanging in the air. You’re seated beside Atsumu, your knees bouncing ever so slightly as your mind races ahead. His hand is still in yours, firm and grounding.

When the nurse finally calls your name, you squeeze his fingers a little tighter.

The exam room is dimly lit, calm, with a monitor beside the table and soft instructions given as you lie back. You wince slightly at the cold gel, heart pounding in your ears as the technician glides the wand over your stomach.

She squints at the screen. Tilts her head.

Then her eyes widen slightly.

“Oh.”

You stiffen. “What? What is it? Is something wrong?”

She’s quick to reassure you. “No, no—everything looks good. It’s just... you’re having twins.”

Silence.

Atsumu leans in closer, eyes squinting at the screen. “Twins?”

“Twins,” the technician repeats, pointing to two distinct little shapes. “You see here? Two sacs. Two heartbeats.”

Your gaze locks onto the screen. Two. Not one. Not the tiny flutter you’d been preparing for, but two.

A sudden wave of panic crashes over you.

“Two?” you echo, your voice a shaky whisper. “Like... two babies? At the same time?”

The technician gently clears her throat. "Well, it’s a little early to know for sure if they’re fraternal or identical, but yes—twins."

You feel your breath hitch, the room growing smaller around you. “That’s two car seats. Two cribs. Two births. Two newborns crying at once—”

Your hand grips Atsumu’s forearm, eyes wide as your mind races. “I don’t—I wasn’t ready for two. I barely wrapped my head around one.”

You’re still staring at the screen when Atsumu shifts closer to the bed, his hand still resting lightly on yours.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Breathe for me, okay?”

You turn toward him with wide, overwhelmed eyes. “Tsumu... that’s two babies. That’s two of everything. What if I can’t—what if I’m not enough for both of them?”

“You are,” he says instantly, without hesitation. “You will be. We will.”

But your hand flails toward his forearm like it needs something to latch onto. “This is your fault. You and Osamu. You cursed me with twin genes!”

He stares at you, stunned. “What?! How is this my fault?”

“Because you’re a twin! That’s how!”

The technician offers a gentle smile, still watching the monitor. “Actually, twins are likely influenced by the mother’s genetics. So if anyone ‘passed it down,’ it’s likely you.”

You blink slowly. “So... it’s me?”

Atsumu exhales—relieved. “See? I didn’t do this! You doubled down on your own.”

Your head snaps toward the technician, eyes wide and blinking rapidly, a storm of disbelief swirling behind them. You don’t say anything—but your look says plenty.

The technician catches the expression immediately and offers a placating smile, lifting her hands lightly. "I’ll give you two a minute," she says gently, already stepping toward the door, and quietly slips out of the room, pulling it closed behind her with a soft click.

You drop your head back onto the exam pillow with a muffled groan. “I don’t know how to do one baby. Let alone two. That’s double the crying. Double the diapers. Double the college funds.”

Atsumu leans down until his forehead presses softly to yours. His hand finds yours again, grounding you with the warmth of his palm and the way his thumb strokes soothingly across your skin.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and gentle. “Breathe. We’ll figure it out.”

You don’t answer right away, eyes still locked on the monitor where two flickering heartbeats pulse in rhythm.

He kisses your forehead, slow and reassuring. “We’ll go one diaper at a time. One bottle at a time. One late-night rocking session at a time. We’re gonna be okay.”

Your lip trembles. “Are we?”

He smiles, brushing your hair back from your forehead. “I’m not lettin’ you do this alone. You’re stuck with me, baby. Me, and the two little monsters we made.”

You laugh wetly, a mix of shock and affection tangled in your chest. He leans down and kisses you again—cheek, then jaw, then temple—before turning to look back at the screen.

And in the glow of that monitor, with two tiny heartbeats tapping out the rhythm of your future, Atsumu squeezes your hand and whispers:

“They’ve already got the best mom in the world. The rest’ll be easy.”

You sit up slightly and reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, your chin resting against his shoulder. “Thank you,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. “I needed to hear that.”

Pregnancy: Kuroo (NSFW)

You’re not sure when it started. Maybe sometime last week, maybe even before that—but the switch flipped quietly, without warning. One minute you were just a little tired, a little bloated, trying to get comfortable with the weird limbo that is second trimester pregnancy. And the next?

You were staring at your husband like he was carved from marble. Like every movement of his arms under that damn fitted black t-shirt was offensive. Like the way his voice dipped when he answered a work call should be punishable by law.

You hadn’t touched him in days—partly because you were tired, partly because the two of you were still adjusting to the wave of appointments and vitamins and new routines. But now, now your skin feels too tight for your body. You can’t stop thinking about his hands. His stupid smirk. The stretch of muscle across his stomach when he reaches for the top shelf. You keep shifting in your chair at the kitchen table, thighs pressed together as you half-watch him move around the apartment, trying not to combust every time he bends to grab something or stretches his arms over his head like a personal attack.

You're four months pregnant, and your hormones are holding you hostage.

But how the hell are you supposed to say that? Hey honey, I want you so bad it’s making me delusional? You’re turning me on just by walking?

You'd rather burst into flames.

So instead, you sit quietly, pretending to scroll through your phone while your eyes flicker up to him every ten seconds like a heat-seeking missile. You’re trying to be subtle. You really are.

Unfortunately for you, Kuroo Tetsurou has known you long enough to spot a mood shift from fifty paces away—and he’s been watching. Smugly. Patiently. Waiting.

The first hint that you’ve been caught comes when he strolls by with a bowl of chopped strawberries, casually plucks one from the bowl, and leans over to offer it to you without a word. You’re caught off guard, lips parting automatically as he feeds it to you. Your teeth graze the tip of his fingers, just barely, and his lips twitch.

He doesn’t move. Just watches you chew. Slow. Calm.

Then, in a voice dipped in dry amusement: “You’ve been staring at me for twenty minutes.”

You blink, swallow. “I haven’t.”

“Mm,” he hums, straightening up. “Sure you haven’t.”

You grit your teeth. Heat burns your cheeks. You can already feel the spiral beginning.

He doesn’t press. Just walks around the kitchen like he didn’t just call you out for mentally undressing him on the spot. His movements are so casual it’s infuriating. He grabs a dish towel, wipes down the counter, opens the fridge, all while your brain is on fire.

You stare down at your phone, eyes unfocused, and will yourself to get it together. You just need to act normal. You’re not gonna combust. It’s fine. It’s just hormones.

“You okay?” he asks, voice far too neutral. You glance up. He’s leaning against the counter now, arms crossed over that broad chest, eyebrow lifted in feigned innocence.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re flushed.” His head tilts. “You hot?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

You shift in your seat, pressing your knees together. “Yes.”

Another pause. Then:

“You hungry?”

Your eyes shoot to him instinctively—and that’s when you realize he knows. Not just suspects. Not maybe. Knows.

And worse: he’s enjoying it.

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You look away again, hands gripping your phone like it might save you from yourself.

When he crosses the room, you don’t even notice until he’s crouching beside your chair, resting one arm on the armrest, the other hand brushing lightly over your thigh. You freeze.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice dipped in syrup, eyes glinting with something dangerous, “you’ve been lookin’ at me like you want to climb me.”

You blink rapidly. “That’s not—”

“You sigh every time I stretch.” His fingers trace up to your knee. “You squirm when I talk. You’ve eaten, slept, and had your iron supplements. So unless there’s a sudden new strawberry emergency—”

“Tetsuro.”

“—I think,” he murmurs, leaning closer, “there’s something you’re not saying.”

You bury your face in your hands, groaning into your palms. “This is so embarrassing.”

He laughs softly, warm breath fanning over your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your temple. “It’s adorable.”

“It’s feral, Tetsu. I feel like a monster.”

“Monsters don’t look at me like that,” he says, voice low against your skin. “They don’t whimper every time I bend over.”

You groan louder, but your body leans into him on instinct.

“Say it,” he teases. “C’mon. Say you want me.”

“I hate you.”

“You want me.”

“I’m four months pregnant and deranged, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, baby,” he grins, pulling you gently into his lap, “you’re carrying my kid and horny for me? I’m the luckiest bastard alive.”

Mortified beyond recovery, you squirm your way out of his lap, muttering something unintelligible as you bolt from the kitchen. It’s half an attempt to escape, half a desperate grab for your dignity. You make it three steps into the hallway before you hear him laugh—low and knowing—and then feel his hands at your hips.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” he murmurs, lips brushing the curve of your ear as he tugs you back against him. “You’re not getting away from me after saying all that.”

You fumble for a response, but it vanishes the second his hands find the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing your skin with unbearable slowness. You tilt your head back without thinking, breath catching.

“Tetsurou—”

“Yeah?” he answers, already kissing down your neck, voice infuriatingly calm. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

You don’t. You can’t.

Instead, your hands find his wrists and guide them higher. You melt into him like wax to flame.

“Good girl,” he breathes against your jaw. “That’s more like it.”

Before you can catch your breath, he has you gently turned, your back pressing against the hallway wall. His hands settle firmly on your hips, then slide lower, fingers working with a confidence that has your knees buckling. You gasp when he pops the button of your pants, the sound deafening in the quiet space between your bodies.

“Tetsurou—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over your collarbone with the lightest graze, voice so low and deliberate it sends a pulse through your spine. His hand dips beneath the waistband of your underwear with a languid slowness, his knuckles dragging along your skin like he wants you to feel everything.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? You’ve been trying so hard to hold it together.”

You inhale sharply as his fingers slide deeper, seeking out the ache you’ve been trying to ignore for days. When he finds it—you—it’s like your body short-circuits. Your breath stutters, hips jolting forward as if your body’s been waiting for this exact moment, this exact touch.

His fingers move with maddening precision—expert and unhurried—stroking you in a rhythm that melts the strength from your knees. He presses you harder into the wall, not with force but weight, anchoring you there while your body twists and trembles under his control. His mouth trails along your neck, slow kisses blooming across your pulse point as you gasp, the sound catching in your throat.

"Just relax, sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, "Let me make it better."

Your hands cling to his arms, fingers digging into his sleeves as your body arches into him. The tension coils tighter and tighter, strung high by weeks of restrained want, the heat of your own embarrassment fueling the need. He murmurs low praise into your skin—good girl, so soft, so perfect, so fucking sweet like this—and the words alone nearly undo you.

And when you do come, it’s a quiet, raw thing—your body trembling in his hold, face tucked against his shoulder, a muffled cry of Tetsurou slipping from your lips like confession. He holds you steady through it, one arm around your waist, the other still curled low, fingers easing you through every last tremor.

When your breathing slows, when the fog begins to lift, his hand gently slips free and he cradles your face, brushing back damp strands of hair with the same fingers that just unraveled you.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours. “My gorgeous, needy wife. All mine.”

Your breath comes out in short, shaky bursts, still reeling, still trembling in his hands. “I can’t believe I—” you start, but the words collapse in your throat, too breathless, too flustered to finish.

Tetsurou chuckles softly, and before you can even think about collecting yourself, he’s hooking one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you with effortless strength.

You yelp, arms flying around his neck as he princess carries you down the hallway, your face burning hot against his shoulder. “Tetsu—! What are you doing?!”

He glances down at you, grin smug, eyes molten. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he murmurs, already walking with you in his arms toward the bedroom. His voice is velvet and heat, wrapped around every word, promising more. “I’ve got you all night, baby. You’re not going anywhere.”

Husbandry: Miya Atsumu

Atsumu had absolutely no qualms with his life at the moment. In fear of jinxing it, he could say it was damn near perfect. He had accomplished his professional dream, being on Japan's Olympic Volleyball team, alongside teammates who have known and played with almost half his life. The people he considered to be the highest of the high. To make things better, he had you by his side, the greatest gift he's ever gotten (He'd tell you but you'd laugh at him for being too cheesy). You two had quite the blissful marriage, and with finding out a few weeks ago that you were pregnant with twins, he couldn't be happier with you.

Atsumu had been checking his hair out in the bathroom, prepping it for a luncheon he, and subsequently you, were invited to by the Japan Volleyball Association.

"Fuck!"

Atsumu hears you shriek out of frustration from the other room. He jumps almost immediately, rushing in to see what was causing you alarm. Whipping around the door frame, arms up to defend his wife, his adrenaline dissipates as he finds you in front of your vanity mirror struggling to zip up what was your favourite dress, but has recently become your most hated. Your bump stretched the dress, making it hard for the ends to come around let alone the zipper. Your face is red with effort, and with a lot of emotion swirling in your eyes. "Hey, hey, you okay?" He calls out your name softly, which usually made you calmer, but in this mood, your temper only flared. So of course, you begin to cry. "No, I'm not okay! I wanted to wear this dress and it doesn't fit! Nothing fits me, and I've gotten fat!" You break, spilling your guts as well as your tears, letting the tension break away from you. Immediately, Astumu is at your side, hugging you and allowing you to bury your face in his chest. He rubs your back in a soothing motion, trying to get you to calm down. "Babe, who on earth said you're fat? You're pregnant." He gave you a squeeze, talking gently in your ear, but you shook your head. "But I got so big so fast!" You were whining now, and while Atsumu knew you were genuinely upset, he couldn't help but smile. Still, he gave you a reassuring kiss on your head. "Well yeah, there's two of em' in there." His hands went from your back to your swollen stomach, "They need room to grow." And you groan, being dramatic. "But what if at the party they think I'm fat?" You ramble, clutching Atsumu's steamed shirt. Your husband stutters, trying to think of the right answer. "I'll... Make sure to let everyone know we're pregnant?" "What?! I don't want people to know we're doing it!" Atsumu gives you a look of pure confusion. Atsumu blinked at you, his lips slightly parted in disbelief. "Sweetheart," he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, "you do know that's how babies happen, right? I mean, it ain't exactly a secret how we got here."

You groaned, your cheeks heating up. "I know that! But still, I don’t want them thinking about it. It's embarrassing!"

He couldn't help it—he laughed. A real, loud, genuine laugh that shook his shoulders and made his head tilt back. His amusement was contagious, and despite your earlier frustration, you felt your lips twitch into a reluctant smile.

"You’re somethin’ else, you know that?" Atsumu said, grinning as he wiped the corner of his eye. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head again, his hands gently squeezing your waist. "But if you don’t want people thinking about it, fine. I won’t say a word. But listen here—if anyone tries to say somethin' stupid about you tonight, I’ll let 'em know exactly how proud I am of you. No one messes with my wife."

You sniffled, swiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. "You promise?"

"Cross my heart, darlin’." He tilted your chin up with his thumb, meeting your watery gaze. "And for the record, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t you dare let that dress or anyone at that party tell you otherwise. Got it?"

"But what if—"

"No 'what ifs.'" Atsumu cut you off gently but firmly, resting his forehead against yours. "You’re not just my wife; you’re also the woman growin’ two babies, and if that ain’t somethin’ amazing, I dunno what is. So wear somethin’ that makes you feel comfy, and we’ll go in there and show everyone how perfect ya are—bump, dress, and all."

You sighed, leaning into him. "You always know what to say, don’t you?"

He smirked. "Nah, sometimes I wing it and hope for the best. But I’m glad this worked."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension finally easing from your body. Atsumu, satisfied with your soft giggle, gave you another quick kiss before pulling back and gently guiding you to sit down on the bed.

"Stay put. I’ll pick you somethin’ else," he said, already heading to the closet.

"Wait, you’re picking my outfit?" You raised an eyebrow at him, skeptical.

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder. "Trust me, babe. I got this."

You weren’t entirely sure you did trust him, but the way he moved so determinedly between your closet and the mirror made you feel a little lighter. Besides, how could you not feel cared for when your husband was doing everything in his power to make sure you felt confident and loved?

Minutes later, Atsumu returned holding a simple but elegant dress you hadn’t worn in years. It was loose enough to accommodate your bump but still flattering in all the right ways. "Try this," he said, holding it up proudly.

You stood and slipped it on, and to your surprise, it fit perfectly. When you turned to face the mirror, Atsumu’s reflection was beaming behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"See? Told ya I got good taste," he said, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Thanks, 'Tsumu."

"Anytime," he murmured, his voice soft and full of love.

As you both got ready to leave for the luncheon, Atsumu leaned in one last time, his hand resting protectively over your belly. "Y’know," he whispered, "they’re real lucky to have you as their mom."

You smiled, your earlier worries completely forgotten. "And they’re lucky to have you as their dad."

With that, you headed out together, feeling lighter than you had all day.

Husbandry: Iwaizumi

It was the dead of night. Your shared bedroom bathed in the night, light speckling from the nightlife in Tokyo. It was perfectly peaceful, and ever since you had found out you were pregnant with Hajime's child, was the perfect condition for you to have a restful sleep. The temperature exactly how you wanted it, the right amount of blanket, and of course, your sleeping husband's chest to rest your head. And yet, you lay wide awake.

You sigh, turning the other way, hoping it would magically put you to sleep. It didn't. All you could focus on was your stomach eating itself in hunger. You hadn't expected your appetite to increase this much so fast, but instead of eating for two you, it was more like a small villiage. You curse yourself, giving into temptation of the beast in your stomach and move to get up. "Hm? Where are you going?" Your husband's voice is rough with sleep as he squints at you. You look at him somewhat sheepily before whispering back, "I'm just getting something to eat, go back to sleep" With a kiss to his forehead. You, thinking that would be all, are shocked when you still feel his hand pulling you back. "Hold on." He grunts as he also moves to get out of bed. You're quick to stop him, "Oh, no you don't have to-"

"Can I not feed my wife and kid?" He asks gently in your ear, giving you a kiss on the side of the head before taking you to the kitchen, heart fluttering in your chest so hard you could feel it.

Interesting content, unexpected...

what if sex was excruciatingly painful, and childbirth was pleasurable.

Damn boy gregnant or somethin