adumbratrapedme

[adumbratrapedme]

kenma x reader | Growing pains.

characters: kenma | wc idk | genre. pure fluff !| cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy,. summary; basically raising a 2yr old baby, therrible two's thingy idk teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

Kenma

“NO!”

It was her word of the week. Of the month. Of your life.

She yelled it when you gave her food. She yelled it when you didn’t give her food. She yelled it when she wanted red socks, but you could only find green. When her banana broke in half. When her block tower fell. When the sun hit her eyes too fast. When her sock seam felt "wrong."

You used to think tantrums were over-dramatized in parenting blogs. You used to think you would handle it with gentleness, patience, deep breaths.

But this? This was psychological warfare.

And today?

Today she screamed NOOOO! at the top of her lungs because Kenma, half-asleep and halfway through dropping his backpack on the floor, had dared—dared—to pause the opening theme of a cartoon she’d already watched seven times in a row.

She shrieked like she’d been betrayed on a cellular level. Kenma physically flinched. He was pale, slouched, and visibly trembling with fatigue.

“Okay,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing the remote again. “I guess we’re watching it again...”

You walked in with a sippy cup in one hand and the thousand-yard stare of a parent who’s seen too much. Your shirt was inside out. Your eye twitched every few minutes.

“She threw peas at me.”

Kenma didn’t even blink. “She kicked me in the face during her nap.”

You sighed so deeply it came from your soul. “Why does she hate us?”

“She doesn’t. i bet she was just sent here to humble us.”

You both stared at the screen, the cheery cartoon music stabbing into your eardrums like needles. Neither of you moved.

It wasn’t her fault.

She was two. Her brain was still building the scaffolding for self-control, logic, language. And she wasn’t a bad kid. In fact, she was terrifyingly smart.

She asked if clouds ever get tired. She cried when someone stepped on a flower. She hugged Kenma’s face with both hands and called him “Dada” in a whisper when he was sad. She believed Band-Aids healed the hearth.

But lately?

It was like she came with a ticking timer. One wrong word, one broken cookie, one rejected cup, and boom: meltdown. Full-body, wailing, flailing, toddler rage.

You were exhausted. Not tired. Not sleepy. Exhausted. Kenma once surpsiingly cried into your shoulder when he thought you were asleep. Some days it felt like your entire existence was just surviving the next tantrum.

He was trying. He really was.

But school was harder this last year, graduation and uni entrance exams were around the corner, and he was picking up shifts at the game store on weekends now, and sometimes when he came over he looked like he’d forgotten how to be a person.

His eyes were dim. His back hunched. He took long, silent pauses before answering simple questions.

It happened on a Wednesday.

You were already fried...

The morning had started with her throwing her cereal and ended with her coloring the wall with a Sharpie she somehow found despite your best baby-proofing. You were cleaning a juice spill while she laughed and stomped in it barefoot. The second Kenma walked in, she dumped another full cup on the carpet with dramatic flair.

He stood frozen at the door, half inside, half out. His hand clenched around the strap of his bag. His shoulders stiffened.

She laughed again.

And Kenma—usually quiet, usually patient, usually the one who counted to ten while you snapped—snapped.

“Can you just—FUCKING STOP IT?!” he shouted.

The volume was sharp. A whipcrack in the silence.

You froze. He froze. She froze. Time held its own breath.

Then her little lip wobbled. Her eyes welled up. And the scream that followed shook the walls.

You rushed forward and scooped her into your arms on instinct, her tiny fists pounding against your chest as she sobbed. You held her tight, whispering soothing nonsense into her hair—anything to soften the blow.

Your eyes flicked to Kenma, and despite knowing he didn’t mean it, despite knowing he’d never reacted like this before, the disappointment still surfaced—sharp and immediate. It wasn’t fair, but it was automatic. A reflex. Just like picking her up had been.

And he saw it. The way your expression changed. And it shattered something in his face.

Kenma was already backing up. His face blank, like someone had flipped a switch and turned off the lights behind his eyes.

“Shit,” he mumbled, voice barely audible. “Shit, I didn’t mean to—I just—fuck, I’m sorry.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He picked up his backpack, avoided your gaze, and left—not slamming the door, but not closing it gently, either.

You didn’t sleep that night. Not really.

Kenma didn’t text. You didn’t either.

The next day, after school, he knocked softly. You didn’t expect to see him, since he practcally seemed to avoid you the whole school day.

He looked... small. Like a version of himself you hadn’t seen in a while. His hoodie was wrinkled. His hair stuck to his forehead. And in his hands, he held something crooked, bent, and glittery.

“A crown,” he said quietly, holding it out. “I made it at the library during lunch. There was this video. A dad made one for his daughter after she had a hard day. Said it helped.”

You took it slowly. It was handmade. Uneven. Tacky. There were little wobbly scribbles on it that said Princess of the Living Room. The glue was still drying.

You brought him into the room, where she sat curled on the floor with her stuffed bunny and tired eyes.

Kenma knelt beside her, delicate, like if he moved too fast she’d bolt.

“I’m sorry I yelled yesterday,” he said softly. “That wasn’t okay.”

She stared at him, blinking slow.

“I made this for you,” he continued, and reached forward—pausing first—then gently set the glittery crown on her head. “Because you’re the princess of the living room today.”

She blinked.

And then—softly, like a bubble rising to the surface—she giggled.

Kenma let out a breath so shaky it made your heart ache.

You sat down next to them, brushing her hair back behind her ears. She looked up at both of you like you hung the stars. Like she knew you were trying. Even if you got it wrong sometimes.

taglist:

@lauraofthewoods @anyaswlrd @atinyrosedoor @b1xi

i know i already had a taglist in the past but since i went offline for so long and feel kinda lazy lately to go back and search pls comment /dm me again to be added, apologies ToT!

[adumbratrapedme]

kenma x reader | Life After Birth + friends meeting the baby.

characters: kenma | wc idk | genre. pure fluff !| cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, baby bumps. teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

Kenma

Life didn’t pause just because you had a baby...

Classes kept going. Assignments kept coming. The group chats still pinged with memes and updates about school drama you didn’t have the energy to keep up with.

You and Kenma were still just fifteen/sixteen—first-years with uniforms that didn’t quite fit, classmates who didn’t quite understand, and teachers who tried their best not to stare at the empty chair beside Kenma on the days you had to stay home.

Your daughter was barely a month old when Kenma started bringing her up in passing to the guys on the volleyball team. Not in a dramatic way—just casually mentioning “we didn’t sleep last night” or “I have to go pick up diapers after this.”

Kuroo was the first to really get it, offering to cover for Kenma when he was late or too exhausted to run full drills. Yaku didn’t say much, but his snacks started including extras.

Some days were… manageable.

Kenma would walk over after school with his backpack half-zipped and a bento box his mom had packed for you both. He’d let you nap while he held the baby, sometimes with a controller awkwardly balanced on his knee. You’d wake up to the soft click of buttons and the sight of your daughter asleep on his chest, his eyes half-closed, his game paused at a save point.

But other days?

You’d stare at your textbook while rocking her with one foot and wonder how the hell you were supposed to write an essay when your brain felt like pudding. The house smelled like formula and baby wipes. Your phone buzzed with texts from classmates: “Are u coming to the karaoke night?” “Did u do the chem worksheet?” “Are u guys even still together lol?”

You wanted to go out. You wanted to be normal. You wanted a night to just exist without leaking boobs or burp cloths.

Once, just once, you did go out—with Kenma, for an hour, while your mom watched the baby. You got bubble tea. You sat on a bench and didn’t talk about diapers. You held hands like kids again. And it made you cry.

Because you missed that version of you—the one who didn’t have to check the time, or worry if she’d wake up crying while you were gone.

Kenma noticed. He always noticed.

He kissed your knuckles and said quietly, “It’s okay to miss it. I do too.”

You both stared ahead, sipping in silence.

Then you went home early.

Because love wasn’t enough to stop time. But it was enough to keep going—hour by hour, diaper by diaper, quiz by quiz.

And somehow, you were still here.

Together. Growing. Learning.

Still kids.

But parents too.

The Littlest Setter. (friends meeting the baby)

It was supposed to be a normal afternoon.

Kenma had rushed out the door right after school, mumbling something about not being late for warmups again. You had barely finished buttoning up the baby’s soft jumper when you realized:

His kneepads were still sitting on your floor.

You texted him.

(Y/N): you forgot these, genius. *photo* Kenma: 😐 Kenma: can u bring them? coach will kill me (Y/N): say please Kenma: please... (Y/N): good boy. <3

You laughed quietly and looked down at your daughter, strapped snugly to your chest in her tiny carrier, her eyes blinking slow and content.

“Well,” you said. “Let’s go see your dad’s second family.”

The gym smelled like effort and sweat. The kind only teenage boys could make this potent.

You stepped in quietly, cradling the kneepads in one hand and keeping the other gently around the baby’s back. She was wide-eyed, taking everything in with that curious frown Kenma sometimes made.

The team was mid-warmup.

Kuroo spotted you first.

He blinked. Then his jaw dropped slightly.

“Wait—”

Yaku turned just as Kuroo called out, grinning. “Kenmaaa~ your girls are here!”

Kenma, who’d been stretching with Yamamoto, turned toward the door. His face went pale for a second, then flushed red.

“Oh my god,” he muttered. “She’s so tiny,” yamamoto said, awestruck.

You held up the kneepads. “He left these.”

Kenma jogged over quickly, eyes flicking to the baby strapped against you.

“She okay?” he whispered.

You nodded. “She just woke up from a nap. You forgot to kiss her goodbye.” He looked sheepish. He gently touched her small head, fingers brushing over her soft hat.

“Hi,” he murmured. “Sorry I ran out.”

She made a tiny sound—a sort of sleepy ehhh noise—and Yaku nearly dropped his water bottle.

“Is that her voice?!” he whispered, like she was some ancient forest creature.

“Do not wake her up,” you warned, only half-joking...

Kuroo crept closer, clearly holding back a grin. “So this is the youngest Nekoma setter, huh?”

“Temporary substitute,” Kenma muttered, hand still on her head protectively.

“She’s got your eyes,” Yamamoto noted. “But her whole expression is like kenma's.”

“She looks kinda done with all of us,” Yaku added. “A very Kenma trait.”

shohei leaned in slowly. “Can I… can I hold her?”

Kenma gave you a look like please say no, but you smirked and carefully unstrapped the baby from the carrier.

“She just ate. No sudden movements.”

Shohei held her like she was made of gold. His face lit up. “She’s so warm!”

Yamamoto peered over his shoulder. “Look at her tiny hands. Bro. She’s making a fist. She’s ready to punch.”

“Her spikes would probably have more aim than yours,” Yaku said dryly.

“Shut up—!”

The baby blinked slowly at the chaos. Then let out a quiet sigh and went back to sleep against Shohei’s chest.

Kenma stood beside you now, half an arm’s length away, watching his teammates surround the baby like she was some mystical creature they’d summoned from a manga.

“She’s safe,” you whispered, like you knew what he was thinking.

He nodded slowly.

“…They’re not so bad,” he said.

You laughed. “They love her.”

“She’s cooler than me.”

“She drooled on your controller last week.”

“Still cooler.”

You bumped his shoulder with yours, and for a second, you both just stood there—tired, still healing, still adjusting—but okay. In the middle of a gym full of idiots and old volleyballs, it felt like something soft had settled in.

taglist:

@lauraofthewoods @anyaswlrd @atinyrosedoor @b1xi

i know i already had a taglist in the past but since i went offline for so long and feel kinda lazy lately to go back and search pls comment /dm me again to be added, apologies ToT!

[adumbratrapedme]

i know everyone hates him cuz he a loser but damn i love losers, i need fanfiction of kazuya for real, i love him so bad he isnt a bad man just a loser searching for love omfg, ill definitely start writing about him, idc if only gets 3 likes, my love for him is undeniable!!! im tired of not finding a single fanfic to read about him

[adumbratrapedme]

kenma x reader | Baby's first week.

characters: kenma | wc idk | genre. pure fluff !| cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, birth. teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

Kenma

The first week felt like time stopped.

Not in a romantic way. Not like in a movie.

More like the kind of stop where you blink, and it’s been three hours, but also: it’s still Tuesday.

Day One

was a blur of hospital sheets, checklists, and nurses telling you how to feed her, how to burp her, how to change her. Your arms were shaky. Your body ached. You felt like a puzzle missing half its corners. You weren’t even sure your brain had caught up with your body yet.

Kenma had spent the night in a chair beside your bed, hoodie bunched up under his head, waking up every time the baby made a noise.

He didn’t say much. Just kept holding your hand. Kept watching you. Kept watching her.

Like he was afraid you’d both disappear if he blinked.

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

And then—sometime that morning, maybe mid-morning, maybe not—you were handed the baby by a nurse with a smile far too calm for the chaos inside you.

“It’s time to try nursing,” she said gently, like this was a normal sentence. “Let’s see how she latches.”

Your brain fizzed. You looked down at the baby. Then at Kenma. Then back at the baby.

And you said, “Like… now?”

The nurse nodded. “Now’s a great time.”

You turned to Kenma, wide-eyed and red-faced, and he looked equally horrified—like someone had just asked him to solve a math equation on live television.

“I can, uh—leave?” he offered, halfway out of his seat already.

The nurse laughed. “She’s gonna be doing this a lot. Might as well get used to it, dad.”

You wanted to disappear into the mattress...

Kenma stared at the wall. You stared at him. Then you both burst out laughing—nervous, breathless, half-delirious laughter.

“She’s going to scream,” you said, adjusting the blanket around your chest, panic bubbling just under the surface.

“She’s tiny,” he said. “I think you can take her.”

You didn’t feel ready. Not even close. But still, you let the nurse guide your arms, position your body, and then— There it was.

The first latch. The first quiet sound of breathing. The first moment you were feeding your baby.

And just like that, everything stilled.

Your hands stopped shaking. Your chest felt full in a new way—heavy, but not bad. Just… full. Present. Your daughter’s tiny fingers curled instinctively against your skin.

And Kenma?

He didn’t look away. He just looked soft.

Blushing, obviously. Still visibly out of his depth. But there was something new in his eyes. Something warm and wide and wrecked.

“You’re kind of amazing,” he said, voice just above a whisper.

You scoffed. “I’m leaking and half-naked. I feel like a cow.”

“You’re a cool cow,” he deadpanned.

You both laughed again, quieter this time. Tired. Real.

And in that quiet blur of discomfort, awe, and absolute exhaustion— you knew:

Everything had changed.

Day Two, you went home.

Your mom helped you buckle the car seat in. You checked it five times before sitting down yourself...

The ride felt too fast. The corners too sharp. Every bump in the road made you clench your fists and check the mirror to make sure she was still breathing.

Kenma sat beside you in the backseat the whole way, hunched slightly forward with one hand on the car seat handle, like if the world tried anything, he could stop it with his palm.

Your room felt smaller now. Her bassinet took up half the wall, and the diapers and wipes were stacked in old shoeboxes near the window. There were soft blankets folded in a basket, and a little mobile someone had gifted you at the baby shower.

She was here. In your space.

Not an idea. Not a “someday.” Here. And she cried. And cried. And cried.

You tried to nurse her, but it hurt. Then you tried a bottle, and she spit it up. Then you cried too.

Kenma came over that night and found you curled up on the floor with your back against the dresser, the baby finally asleep in your lap.You were too tired to get into bed. Too sore to stand. Your eyes were red and your throat burned.

You looked up at him with red eyes and whispered, “I’m already failing.”

He said nothing.

He just crouched down and rested his forehead against your knee, gently curling his fingers around your ankle.

“We’re not failing,” he said. “We’re just… new.”

Unfortunately? She woke up so you asked him to change the next diaper. 50%because you physically couldn’t get off the floor yet and another 50% cuz you felt a little grossed out heh...

He froze.

“You want me to… what?” “She’s just a baby, Kenma.” “She’s, like, a bomb. A wiggly one.”

“Do you want me to cry again?” you warned flatly.

He scrambled to grab the wipes.

You watched—half delirious, half amused—as he fumbled with the diaper tabs, holding her little legs like they were sticks of TNT, accidentally getting baby lotion on his hoodie sleeve, and almost crying when she peed mid-change.

“Did she just—?! Is that aimed at me?!”

You were wheezing with laughter by the end of it, forehead resting on your arm, breathless from a full day of exhaustion and emotional whiplash.

The diaper ended up backwards. There was a wipe stuck to her sock. But she didn’t cry.

And Kenma looked up, wide-eyed and sweating, like he’d just disarmed a bomb.

“I did it,” he whispered.

You looked at him—completely serious—and said, “You’re the strongest man alive.”

Day Three, Kenma skipped practice.

Kuroo didn’t even complain. Just sent him a text that said,

“take care of ur girls. practice will still be here.”

Kenma came over after school with a plastic bag full of snacks and two textbooks. You didn’t bother pretending to study.

Instead, you handed him the baby while you grabbed five minutes of sleep on the couch.

When you woke up, he was standing in the middle of your room, gently rocking her while watching a tutorial on how to swaddle with one hand.

His hoodie sleeves were pushed up, and his hair was a mess.

You had never loved him more.

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

That night, she didn’t wake up.

Not at midnight. Not at two. Not even at four.

You both sat there in the quiet, staring at the bassinet like it was haunted.

“Is she—?” “She’s breathing,” Kenma whispered, leaning over her like he was watching a loading screen.

You both stood there in shocked silence for a full minute, then backed out of the room like you were trying not to disturb a spell.

Back on the couch, you blinked at each other in disbelief. Then, slowly, a grin tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“She actually slept,” you whispered.

Kenma slouched lower into the couch, covering his face with his hands.

“I think I forgot what it’s like to feel rested.”

You laughed quietly and handed him one of the snacks he brought—some cheap chocolate and a half-squished bag of gummies.

It felt weirdly like a date.

You were still in your pajama pants. He hadn’t brushed his hair in two days. But in that small, quiet moment—with the baby finally asleep and the two of you sitting shoulder to shoulder in the soft hum of night.

Day Four, everything felt heavier.

Your parents were kind— But kindness had limits. And exhaustion had sharp edges.

They didn’t yell. They didn’t shame you. But the air around them was thin with worry.

Your mom kept suggesting naps you didn’t have time for. She hovered when you tried to soothe the baby, gently implying, without words, that maybe you weren’t doing it right. Your dad never said much at all—but you caught him frowning at bills more often now. Doing quiet math at the kitchen table with a pencil between his teeth.

And sometimes, even though it was your house, your childhood room— You felt like a guest.

Like someone squatting in borrowed space with a crying, hungry plus-one strapped to your chest.

Kenma’s parents weren’t cold. But they weren’t here boviusly.

His mom sent food in neatly labeled containers that smelled like home and patience. His dad slipped folded bills into Kenma’s backpack and said things like, “It’s not much, but it helps.”

But they didn’t see. Not the late-night panic over formula brands. Not the way your hands shook when the baby wouldn’t stop crying. Not the way your body still felt like it didn’t belong to you.

Kenma came over that evening looking like a question mark. His school tie was still loose. His bangs were damp and clinging to his forehead like he’d run there. Or cried.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just walked in, dropped his bag, and looked at you like he wanted to fix something but didn’t know where to start.

You were on the floor again—because that’s where you always ended up lately. Back against the dresser, knees up, baby half-asleep in your arms.

You looked up at him with tired eyes. He crouched down, this time even slower than usual.

“I’m trying,” you said, and your voice broke on the second word. You hadn’t meant to say it. It just slipped out of you like steam from a kettle.

Kenma touched your ankle, gentle as always.

“I know,” he whispered. Then, quieter—like it hurt to admit: “I’m trying too.”

Day Five, you cried again.

Kenma’s room was a mess of blankets, burp cloths, and panic.

You were sitting on the floor beside the bed, knees drawn up, tears in your eyes, and the baby screaming her lungs out in your arms. Your chest ached. Your back ached. Your brain felt like static. The baby wouldn’t latch. She wouldn’t stop. Nothing worked.

You’d tried rocking her, walking her, even that stupid shushing app. But she was red-faced and furious, and you were one second away from breaking down again.

Kenma sat beside you, trying to help, but she didn’t want him either. She only screamed harder when he tried to hold her.

Your voice shook as you tried to explain everything and nothing at once:

“My homework is late, I haven’t slept, my stomach is still disgusting, and someone just messaged me asking if I’m actually gonna keep her like she’s a piece of trash. And she—won’t—stop—crying—”

“She’s not trash,” Kenma said, quiet but firm, his bangs stuck to his forehead from stress. “She’s ours. And yeah, she’s loud. And fussy. And when she gets mad, she looks exactly like me.”

That earned a wet, exhausted laugh from you—just a breath.

“I’m so scared,” you whispered, eyes burning.

“I am too,” he murmured. “But if we’re scared together, it’s… less scary.”

You were just starting to breathe again when the door creaked open.

Kenma’s mom stepped in, holding a plate of warm food in her hands. She paused the moment she saw the scene:

—You, red-eyed and shaking. —Kenma, crumpled beside you, tired. —The baby, screaming like the world was ending.

The look on her face flickered between concern and judgment.

“She’s still crying?” she asked, keeping her voice low, but you heard the edge. “It’s almost midnight, Kenma. I don’t think this is good for either of you. Y/n and the baby should be at her home.”

You froze.

Kenma stood.

“She is home,” he said simply.

His mom frowned. “I didn’t mean—”

“She’s not just some mistake,” Kenma interrupted, his voice sharper than usual. “She’s a person. A mom. and y/n is doing everything she can, and it’s not your job to decide where she belongs.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“She’s exhausted,” he added. “She’s in pain. And she’s taking care of our daughter while doing more than most grown adults could handle. So if you came here to say she shouldn’t be here—don’t.”

The baby wailed louder, her tiny fists flailing.

His mom’s expression faltered.

Then softened.

“I didn’t come to fight,” she said after a moment. “I brought dinner.”

She set the plate down on his desk and, after a long pause, walked over and gently reached out her arms.

“Can I try holding her?” she asked.

You hesitated—but then slowly handed her over.

The baby wailed a little less when she shifted positions.

Day Six, you caught him singing to her.

The house was finally quiet.

The kind of quiet that felt like holding your breath—fragile and borrowed.

You were heading down the hall with the soft pink blanket in your arms, the one she liked best, the one she wouldn't sleep without. You’d forgotten it in the dryer, and now you were padding barefoot toward your room, exhausted and aching and half-asleep.

That’s when you heard him.

Kenma’s voice.

Low. Careful. Almost not there.

You froze just outside the door.

He was singing. Or something close to it—soft humming, a lullaby-like melody from a video game you half-recognized. It drifted through the crack in the door like mist.

He was sitting on the edge of your bed, cradling her in his arms with his hoodie sleeves rolled past his elbows, her little face tucked against his chest. His fingers stroked her hair in slow, nervous motions, like he was scared of doing it wrong.

You didn’t say anything.

You just stood there in the hallway, clutching the warm baby blanket to your chest like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

You tried not to cry again.

But it hit you anyway—the way he looked at her. Like she was made of stars and secrets. Like she was the final level of a game he never expected to reach but wanted so badly to win.

Not with skill.

With love.

And maybe that was the first time you realized—he wasn’t just doing his best.

He wanted to.

Day Seven, she smiled in her sleep.

Only for a second.

Only the tiniest twitch.

But it made everything freeze.

Kenma had been talking to her—about some weird game he was playing—and when it happened, he looked up at you like did you see that too?

You did.

You both did.

And for the first time all week, the exhaustion didn’t feel like drowning.

It just felt like proof, she was here and things would work out .

taglist:

@lauraofthewoods @anyaswlrd @atinyrosedoor @b1xi

i know i already had a taglist in the past but since i went offline for so long and feel kinda lazy lately to go back and search pls comment /dm me again to be added, apologies ToT!

[adumbratrapedme]

!!!

Does anyone remember that one Gojo x Reader fic where the reader is pregnant, and Gojo keeps cheating on her? She allows it to happen because she’s literally pregnant and he’s her only support system.

There’s a line where the reader says something near the end like “I hope she’s a girl,” or “I hope we have a daughter” because how would Gojo feel if someone did the same thing he did to her… but to his daughter?

I’m too lazy to scroll through every single liked post to find it 🙁

Also I think he’s a yandere or something in it, toxic red flag but the fic EATS ���� and it’s spilt in two parts

EDIT: since there's a lot of confusion in the comments

Reader and Gojo are not married, and the reader is not a cuck queen.

The relationship was extremely toxic. Gojo was manipulative and a walking red flag.

Reader knew Gojo was cheating, and Gojo knew that she knew—yet he kept doing it.

Reader allowed this to continue because she was essentially "baby trapped"—she depended on Gojo and couldn’t leave the relationship, even though she wanted to.

It's a really complicated fic, but I remember it had two parts.

It ended with the reader hoping their baby is a girl, so that maybe Gojo would finally understand how messed up his actions are, and realize the hypocrisy in how he treats women, and espeically her.

[adumbratrapedme]

[adumbratrapedme]

I really need her to update 😞

Stream and Scream | reader x multiple men

play previous song? || ◁ PART 2 ▷ || play next song?

summary : Your inbox has turned into a horny battlefield—six familiar usernames, six neck-down thirst traps, all hard and very, very eager.

No faces. Just bodies. Dicks. Bold lighting choices. Questionable bedsheets.

You sit cross-legged in your underwear like you’re judging Olympic figure skating, except everyone’s naked and begging to be picked.

Time to start scoring.

contains : camgirl!reader x a whole ass roster, rotating cast, university AU, smut, porn with kinda a crack plot, casual sex, anonymous sex, exhibitionism, recording, oral sex, piv sex, rough kinky sex, everyone wants to fuck reader, horny simp men, sukuna being sukuna, reader being willfully ignorant for her own sanity.

A/N : time to make your first choice for the first week by voting in the poll at the end, i'll be doing this all in descending order based on who was the most voted to the least - so vote well >:) goodluck reader ! (i wonder who the mystery man could POSSIBLY be)

You sat back for a few hours, letting it really settle in for yourself and your viewers. You had hundreds of messages and you hadn’t even finished scrolling through the first wave of submissions when the familiar usernames started sliding into your inbox—like wolves answering the call. And it was obvious, immediately, which messages you were actually going to open.

These weren’t just horny randos with messy lighting and desperate angles.

These were your regulars.

The six you already knew by username. The six who tipped with the intensity of men bidding for real estate inside your body. And now they were showing themselves to you. You hoped to whatever deity was listening that these guys were hot with huge cocks. What? It was fun to be a little superficial sometimes. First up:

EmoWithaBoner.

His message was soft-spoken, despite the picture attached being the exact opposite of that, just like always. No emojis. No bravado.

“Didn’t know how to pose,” it read. “But I thought about how you’d look on top of me, and it kind of just happened.”

It was soft, unfiltered, and a little shaky. The photo was reflected from his mirror and showed him stretched out across gray sheets, pale skin dusted with faint freckles. He looked like he went to the gym often with how built he was. Narrow hips. His cock sat flushed against his stomach, long and lean—at least seven inches, maybe more—and wait.. was that? You looked closer towards the image, inspecting it like you were trying to solve a case. Yep. It was pierced at the frenulum with a delicate curved barbell. A glint of silver. Great heavens. Saved.

TempleOfSin.

His body was art. Broad chest, warm tan skin like satin, sculpted muscle that looked carved. His torso was tapered, lean and strong, with a small trail of black hair leading down to a thick, curved cock—seven inches minimum, hand loosely resting at the base like he was showing it off without trying too hard. He was neatly trimmed. It looked like there was a bunch of robes beside him haphazardly taken off for the photo. “Consider this a formal offering,” the message read. “You could worship every inch of me truly, my loyal little follower.” Odd as always, but hot. Saved. You could hear your prayers being answered, two down and so far all was good - in fact, perfect. You were surprised these were the guys paying you, and for a second or two you felt like you should be paying them for the photos.

SixEyesOnly’s submission hit next—and of course, it came with a $500 tip before you even clicked on the message. The sight that hit your eyes made you choke a little on your own spit. 

Of course he sent multiple angles—three, actually. You picked your favorite: a half-reclined shot on luxurious navy bedding, torso lit with just the right amount of golden light. He was toned, lean muscle over abnormally long limbs, subtle abs. A soft trail of white hair led down to a perfectly girthy cock, mid-stroke—maybe just under eight inches, thick enough to stretch you open. His other hand was holding a handwritten sign: “Good enough for you?” “Oh, SixEyesOnly, absolutely.” You spoke to yourself whilst your eyes remained glued to your laptop screen. Saved. Then—unsurprisingly unhinged—daddyissuez.

“i jerked off right before i took this and got hard again just thinking about fucking you.”

And the photo… Jesus. The photo was taken in low lighting, like a scene from a noir porno. He was sitting wide-legged on a leather couch that looked like it needed replacing, legs thick and powerful, thighs dusted with black hair. His chest was solid, scars faintly visible across his abs and ribs. You closed your eyes for a second and tilted your head up to your ceiling in a silent ‘thank you’ before looking back down at the image. His cock was huge, just like the rest of him. Probably just shy of nine inches, you couldn’t keep your eyes off it. Balls heavy. Tip already glossy with precum. One hand gripped the base. The other rested lazily on his thigh like he was used to being admired. With a cock like that you couldn’t blame him. Saved. OfficeAfterHours was, predictably, meticulous. His message read like an email you’d get from someone managing your retirement plan, if that person also wanted to bend you over a desk.

“Apologies for the delay. Here’s my formal submission. Discretion guaranteed. Let me know if you'd like a second angle.”

Shot in high-resolution against crisp black sheets, his body was a symphony of intention. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, abs that looked like they’d been sculpted from marble. Not huge, but built like someone who took care of himself for discipline, not vanity. A thin trail of blonde hair led down to a cock that was gorgeous—perfect shape, thick but not excessive, probably seven inches on the dot, with veins that begged for attention. Trimmed. Clean. You could almost imagine his voice saying something like, “Breathe through it, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.” A weird sound came out of your mouth in excitement from your own fantasy. Saved.

You were already overstimulated and halfway folded into your sheets when the final message hit.

KingOfRot.

You hovered over it for a second like it might bite. Which was ironic, considering he probably would. He was always the most feral in chat—filthy, relentless, tipping like his wallet had a death wish.

You clicked.

Instant regret. Instant need.

The photo looked like it had been taken during a crime.

Bathroom mirror. Harsh yellow light. Shirt pushed up to his collarbones, muscles tensed like he’d been fucking someone just before he snapped the photo. Chest broad. Arms thick. Veins roped down to his forearms. Stomach lined with clean muscle. Ink everywhere—heavy black bands around his biceps, tattoos sharp and ceremonial-looking across his chest and stomach like a ritual.

And then his cock.

You actually flinched at the offensive monster staring right back at you through the screen. Long. Thick. Too thick. Heavy. Veins running down the shaft like it had a pulse, flushed red like it had been hard for too long. The kind of cock you’d have to apologize to your body after taking. You didn’t even want to hazard a guess at the size.

He wasn’t even touching it. It was just there holding its own weight up like a pole rather than a piece of actual flesh. 

But what got you, what really made your stomach drop, was the tattoos.

They were familiar.

You’d seen them before.

There was a guy on campus—tall, smug, terrifyingly hot in the way that sent your libido into a frenzy—who had tattoos just like that. You’d seen him walking out of the athletics building once, sweatpants slung low and his shirt mysteriously missing, laughing like he knew every secret in the world. He had loudly shouted “What!?” at you when you had stared for a little longer than needed. Embarrassingly seared into your memory for that exact reason.

You squinted.

“Nope,” you muttered. “No. Not connecting the dots. That’s above my pay grade.” Surely it couldn’t be the same guy, right? The tattoos were probably, like, one of those trends that everyone was getting. That's what you were telling yourself at least.

You were about to save the photo when you finally looked at the caption.

“Pick me. I’ll fuck you so hard your ancestors will feel it. You’ll be a fucking shrine by the time I’m done.” Was that a death threat? Probably. Should you block him? Probably. “Ancestors. Okaaaaay.” You nodded your head slowly as if he was across from you saying it with a gun pointing at you. 

And then you saved it. Of course you did. Then flopped onto your back, one arm flung over your face, trying to mentally prepare for the chaos you had just invited into your life. All at the right price of course. “Thank you to whoever is listening for blessing me with viewers that are hotter than the guys I have wilfully hooked up with for free.” You spoke to your ceiling, a common theme nowadays. Seven men. Seven bodies. Seven chances to let your subscribers watch you get absolutely wrecked on camera.

Your legs were trembling from what you decided was mostly horniness.. and a little bit of fear for your own pussy by the time you shut your laptop fully. Friday couldn't come soon enough.

Now, the real question was - who would you choose first?

taglist : @syubseokie @frozenmallows @90s-belladonna @moncher-ire @kunareads @blublublubby @grignardsreagent @soozeu @mochiivqi @sweetsformysoul @killak9mi @celloccino @gurlhere4fluff @gorouenjoyer @linaaeatsfamilies @lov3-ly @des-todoroki @aiicpansion @lazylunarlover @kentoslvr @cherry-berry-21 @cure-alexandrite @yourname-exee @pinkyogoart @sillymortalblob @kyvyes @xxxieli @swoozleee @augustineyukimura @uniquecutie-puff @ayepitita @luna-v-roiya @kill-your-darling274 @babiestarrcandy @b3bybunny @midnightwriter21 @miizuzu

[adumbratrapedme]

kenma x reader | The birth.

characters: kenma | wc idk | genre. pure fluff !| cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, birth. teen pregnancy series masterlists here! important: i feel like the chapter isnt as good as i wanted it to be so i apologize Tot!

Kenma

It happened on a Thursday.

Which was dumb, because Thursday wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

You were 39 weeks and two days. The doctor said maybe this weekend, maybe early next week. You believed her. Trusted her calm voice, her clipboard, her fake confidence.

So when Kenma left for school that morning, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes, you kissed his cheek and told him:

“Good luck on your exam. Don’t stress.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth. “I’ll come by after practice.”

You smiled. “We’ll order ramen.”

It was supposed to be a normal day.

But the world doesn’t really care what you expect.

10:52 AM

You were filling out a worksheet on a science module when it started.

The cramp was deep and twisting. Different from the Braxton-Hicks ones you’d gotten used to.

You got up. Walked. Drank water. Changed positions.

Then the second one hit.

Harder. Lower. Like something inside was trying to pull apart.

You sat on the floor, back pressed to the couch, and closed your eyes.

Maybe false labor. It happens. Just breathe. Don’t overreact.

You called Kenma once, but the call rang out.

Class time. Of course.

12:36 PM

You called your mom. She wasn’t far—thank god—and promised she was already on her way back home.

You started timing the contractions with your phone.

Seven minutes apart.

Six and a half.

Six.

You texted Kenma:

“I think it’s happening. Don’t panic. Not fast yet. Just… yeah.”

2:17 PM — Nekoma Gym

Practice was loud. Hot. Mid-scrimmage. Coach was barking orders, Kenma checked his phone during a water break and saw your message.

His hands went cold.

He stood up so fast he nearly knocked his stuff over. Kuroo noticed immediately.

“You okay?”

Kenma’s voice was quiet but sharp. “She’s in labor.” Kuroo’s eyes widened. “Now?!”

“Now.”

“Go. Get out of here.” everyone yelled while pushing him to the exit (lol)

Kenma didn’t wait. He was already grabbing his bag, ignoring Coach’s yells asking what was going on as he bolted out the doors, heart in his throat.

2:46 PM — Hospital

When Kenma arrived, slightly out of breath and pale, your mom was in the waiting room and waved him toward the delivery area.

“She’s asking for you.”

He didn’t hesitate.

He found you in a sterile white room, legs bent, sweat at your hairline, and a nurse calmly telling you to breathe.

You saw him and instantly broke into tears.

“You made it.”

Kenma dropped his bag and rushed to your side, grabbing your hand. “Of course I did.”

He kissed your temple, breath shaking. “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

4:03 PM

The contractions were closer. Stronger. You were clenching Kenma’s fingers like your life depended on it.

You cursed. You cried. You sobbed and yelled and apologized.

Kenma didn’t flinch.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered over and over. “You’ve got this.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. You are.”

He brushed sweat from your forehead, voice cracking. “She’s almost here.”

4:19 PM

The nurse called the doctor in.

The pressure felt impossible.

The pain felt like the end of the world.

But when you pushed—and pushed again—and screamed like your entire body was tearing apart—

You heard it.

A sound that swallowed everything else:

A cry.

Small. Fierce. Alive.

4:20 PM — She arrived.

They placed her on your chest, tiny and red and trembling.

You stared, sobbing openly now.

Kenma just stared too—eyes wide, unblinking—like he didn’t quite believe she was real.

Then his hand touched her back, trembling a little.

“She’s so small,” he whispered.

“She’s here,” you breathed.

He looked at you, something behind his eyes finally breaking open.

“You did it.”

“No,” you whispered. “We did.”

He kissed you.

Then kissed her.

And for the first time in your entire life— Even after months of panic and pain and shame and doubt— You felt like maybe, just maybe...

Everything was going to be okay.

taglist:

@lauraofthewoods

i know i already had a taglist in the past but since i went offline for so long and feel kinda lazy lately to go back and search pls comment /dm me again to be added, apologies ToT!

[adumbratrapedme]

kenma x reader | The Final Weeks

characters: kenma | wc idk | genre. pure fluff !| cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, baby bumps. teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

Kenma

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

Which would’ve been perfect, normally. But now it just felt like silence with sharp edges—like a room waiting for something to go wrong.

You sat on the couch with a textbook open and your legs propped on a pillow, your stomach stretched taut beneath a faded hoodie that barely fit anymore. There were folders on the table—worksheets, reading logs, diagrams for health class—and you were doing your best.

But your back hurt. Your hips ached. And your thoughts wouldn’t stop spiraling.

The school had approved your request to finish the smetesrer from home. It was safer, less stressful, and—frankly—you couldn’t squeeze into a desk anymore if you tried. You only needed to turn in assignments and prep for finals remotely.

It sounded like a blessing.!!!

But now that you were out of the building, you realized how lonely it was.

The days stretched too long. The afternoons too still. You missed the quiet moments between classes. The warmth of Kenma walking beside you. Even the dumb vending machine arguments.

Now it was just you. And your thoughts.And a due date that felt like a deadline.

Kenma came over to visit that night later than usual.

You opened the door for him in your fuzzy socks and oversized shirt, feeling immediately self-conscious.

He looked exhausted.

His hair was sticking to his forehead, and his backpack looked twice as full.

“Practice went late?” you asked. He nodded. “Coach added an hour. Exams are next week too.” You stepped back so he could come in. He dropped his bag beside the couch and collapsed into the corner like gravity had finally won.

You sat across from him, rubbing your belly out of habit. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then:

“No.”

Your heart clenched.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He stared up at the ceiling, fingers fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie. “Everything’s… piling up. I can’t focus. I’m behind in math. Coach keeps giving me crap about being ‘mentally absent.’ My parents asked if I’m ready. Like there’s some youtube tutorial I didn’t watch.”

You swallowed. “I’m sorry.” “I’m not mad at you.” “I know. But you’re still drowning.”

Kenma closed his eyes. “I don’t want to mess this up. School. Volleyball. You. Her...”

You got up and moved to sit beside him. It took a second to get comfortable—your joints hated you now—but you rested your head on his shoulder and exhaled slowly.

“You’re not going to mess anything up,” you said. “I already am.”

You turned your face into his hoodie. “You’re showing up. Even when you’re tired. Even when everything’s falling apart. You come here to me.”

His arm moved around you slowly. Protective. Heavy. Solid.

“She’s going to be here soon,” he mumbled. “I don’t feel ready.”

You didn’t either. But you didn’t want to say it.

Instead, you reached for his hand and placed it on your belly. The baby was kicking softly—rhythmic thuds like she was testing her limits inside.

“She doesn’t care if we’re ready,” you whispered. “She’s coming anyway. And we’ll figure it out. Like we always do.”

He stayed silent for a while.

Then he kissed your temple. Just once. Gentle. Lingering.

Later that night, after you both had eaten (instant noodles (btw non- fanfic related thing but do people in america have "maruchan"?) and orange juice), you sat together going over one of his practice quizzes. You weren’t much help, but he appreciated your effort. (xD)

He fell asleep sitting up, textbook in his lap, one hand still curled around yours.

You looked at him—at the boy who never asked for attention but needed it so badly—and realized just how much he was carrying.

And how much you were too.

taglist:

@lauraofthewoods

i know i already had a taglist in the past but since i went offline for so long and feel kinda lazy lately to go back and search pls comment /dm me again to be added, apologies ToT!

[adumbratrapedme]

kenma x reader | Baby Shower and Celebrations.

characters: kenma | wc idk | genre. pure fluff !| cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, baby bumps. teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

Kenma

You never expected a baby shower.

Not in your first year of high school. Not when you’d spent the last few months carefully dodging whispers, skipping gym, and bracing yourself for judgment in every hallway.

But then Kuroo showed up at your classroom door after last period with a lopsided grin and a paper bag full of cookies.

“You free after school?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve got… something planned.”

You gave Kenma a suspicious look, but he just shrugged like it wasn’t his idea—which meant it definitely was.

You weren’t prepared for what waited in the gym...

The volleyball club had pushed the benches against the walls. There were paper decorations taped up—some of them crooked, some hilariously childlike. Neon blue and pink streamers dangled from the basketball hoop. Someone had drawn a cartoon baby on the whiteboard with pudding hair and a console on his hands lol.

A tiny banner hung over the scoreboard: “READY TO SERVE: BABY KOZUME!” <3

Yamamoto pointed at it proudly. “I came up with that.”

Yaku rolled his eyes but didn't hide his smirk. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Inuoka waved excitedly and practically bounced over to you with a stuffed animal in hand. “This is for you! I thought it was cute. It’s a little cat—look, the tail’s floppy!” You took it, touched by the simplicity of it. “It’s perfect Inu. Thank you.”

Kenma hovered nearby, hands in his hoodie pocket, ears slightly pink. He looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

Yamamoto nudged a gift bag toward you. “That one’s from me. Well—my mom helped. It’s, uh, baby stuff. Bottles and… socks. Really tiny ones.”

Kuroo passed you a box wrapped in red tissue paper. “Don’t worry,” he said with a crooked grin. “It’s not volleyball-themed.” “It is volleyball-themed,” Kenma muttered under his breath.

You opened it and pulled out a tiny red onesie that read: “Nekoma’s Littlest setter.”

You laughed, even as your eyes burned. Kenma wasn’t looking at you, but his hand gently found yours, thumb brushing slow, reassuring circles into your palm.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” you said, voice thick. “We wanted to,” Kuroo replied. “You’ve been through a lot. You deserve something good.”

“Especially you two,” Yaku added, crossing his arms. “It’s been a rough season. For both of you. Just... let us be here for once.”

You blinked fast.

Inuoka pointed at the cake box. “We got you this too! It was on sale!”

When they opened it, the shaky icing read:

“We Can’t Wait To Meet You, Little Player 3!”

You covered your mouth with one hand. The other hand went instinctively to your stomach.

The baby kicked, right then, making u gasp.

Kenma noticed. “Was that—?”

You nodded.

“She kicked.”

Yamamoto’s jaw dropped. “Can I feel?!”

You laughed, and for the first time in weeks, it wasn’t forced.

Later, after everyone had eaten too much cake and tried to guess baby names (Shōhei's suggestion of “Spike” was quickly vetoed), Kenma walked you home a few hours later.

You carried the cat plush under one arm, the red onesie tucked in your bag.

“Did you really plan all that?” you asked as the sky started to fade purple with dusk, Kenma shrugged. “Kuroo did most of it.”

“But you said yes.” He glanced down at you. “You deserve good things. Even if you don’t always believe it.”

You smiled. “I do today.” He paused, just outside your gate. “...She’s lucky to have you.” You reached up and kissed his cheek. “She’s lucky to have you, too.”

taglist:

@lauraofthewoods

i know i already had a taglist in the past but since i went offline for so long and feel kinda lazy lately to go back and search pls comment /dm me again to be added, apologies ToT!

[adumbratrapedme]

Judgment and Stigma | teen pregnancy series

characters: kenma | wc idk | genre. pure fluff !|cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, baby bumps. teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

Kenma

You knew this would happen eventually.

You knew the moment your stomach started to curve forward in a way no hoodie could hide, that soon people would notice. And worse—talk.

You just didn’t think it would hurt this much.

It started slowly, like the beginning of a bad dream. Just a few glances at first. Then lingering stares. Some students whispered. Others didn’t bother hiding their expressions at all.

Pity. Judgment. Curiosity. Disgust.

You could feel the eyes crawl over you as you stood by your locker, shifting uncomfortably with the extra weight of your belly and the emotional lead sitting in your chest. Your maternity jeans were already stretched to their limit, and even your biggest sweater clung awkwardly around your bump now.

A group of girls giggled as they passed you in the hallway.

One of them muttered, “Should’ve kept her legs closed.”

Your breath caught. Another one whispered, “That’s the quiet gamer guy’s girlfriend, right? Figures. Those weird ones always end up in this kind of mess.”

The laugh that followed felt like a slap.

You barely spoke during class.

You kept your head down. Ate lunch alone. Kenma was stuck in a long math test, and part of you was relieved—you didn’t want him to see you like this. You didn’t want him to hear it.

To realize just how embarrassed he should be.

You already knew you’d dragged him into this nightmare. Now, everyone else at school knew it too.

After class, you went to wait for him by the gym, but you didn’t go inside, you sat near the vending machine, staring at the dull tiles, heart hollow.

When Kenma found you, you didn’t say a word.

He tilted his head, gentle. “Are you okay?” You nodded a bit too fast.

He crouched in front of you slowly, watching your face. “…You’re lying.”

Your throat tightened. You tried to swallow it down. The lump of shame. Of hurt. Of humiliation.

But it rose anyway. And it burst. “I hate being here,” you whispered.

Kenma blinked. “Here, like… at school?” “Yeah.” Your voice cracked. “I feel disgusting. I feel like an embarrassment. People stare at me, Ken... Like I’m some kind of cautionary tale.”

He was quiet for a long second.

“…What did they say?”

You didn’t answer.

His jaw clenched. His fingers curled slightly. He wasn’t the kind to yell or explode, but you’d seen his frustration before—in the twitch of his eye, the sudden silence, the way his gaze narrowed just slightly when people said things they shouldn’t.

“Someone called me pathetic,” you murmured, voice shaking. “And said you’re pathetic too. That it makes sense, coming from us.”

Kenma looked down.

For a moment, you worried that he might be ashamed too.

But when he looked back up at you, his expression made your chest hurt. Because it wasn’t embarrassment—it was anger. Controlled. Quiet. But there.

He sat beside you.

“I don’t care what they think,” he said, voice steady.

“You should.”

“I don’t.”

“They think we ruined our lives—”

“We didn’t,” he interrupted gently.

You wiped your face, frustrated. “I just want to disappear, Kenma. I’m tired of walking into classrooms and feeling like everyone knows what I did. Like I’m nothing but a stereotype now. Dumb girl. Bad choices.”

“You’re not dumb.”

“Yeah, well, I look it.”

Kenma turned fully toward you.

“(Y/n). Look at me.”

You did.

“I’ve never seen you as anything other than strong. Even when you’re a mess. Even when you cry over spilled cereal. Even when you can’t get out of bed. You’re still the strongest person I know.”

You bit your lip. Hard.

“They don’t matter,” he added. “They’ll forget about us eventually. But we’ll still be here. With her.”

You glanced down at your belly. Then back at him.

“I just want it to stop hurting.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I wish I could take all of it away from you.”

He reached out and rested his hand on your bump.

The baby shifted beneath his palm, like she knew.

“I don’t want to hide you,” he said quietly. “I don’t care what anyone says. You’re mine. And she’s ours. And I’m proud of you.”

You broke.

But this time, it was a relief to cry.

Kenma pulled you close and let you sob into his chest, his hand rubbing soft circles into your back, murmuring gentle things into your hair.

[adumbratrapedme]

Mood swings | teen pregnancy series

characters: kenma | wc idk | genre. pure fluff !|cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, fluff comfort. teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

important ! btw im still trying to figure out the way im writting and format of posts so... apologies!! also i have al kenma finished so im dumping it all today as an apology

Kenma

MORNING —

“I don’t want to go.”

Kenma blinked at you as you both stood outside the train station, early morning fog curling around your shoes. Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, your bump rounding out beneath your oversized sweater. You looked miserable.

“It’s Tuesday,” Kenma mumbled, checking the time on his phone. “You said you felt fine five minutes ago.”

“Well now I feel like crap,” you snapped. “Do you want me to lie?”

He stared. You were flushed. Tired. Your eyes were shiny in that don’t say anything or I’ll cry kind of way.

“…Do you want to go home?” he asked finally.

You sighed. “No. I just… feel gross. And my pants are too tight. And I swear I can feel my organs rearranging. And I look like a balloon.”

“I think you look cute,” he said quietly.

You looked at him.

Then sniffled.

Then said, “You're so nice to me, it’s unfair.”

And then—like flipping a switch—you started crying.

Right there, in front of a vending machine and a crow pecking at someone’s dropped onigiri.

Kenma didn’t flinch. He simply held out his sleeve for you to cry into.

LUNCH —

“I changed my mind,” you said with a full mouth. “I hate egg salad. Why did you let me pack this?”

Kenma blinked at your bento. “You said last night you were craving it.”

“Well I’m not now. It’s disgusting.”

You shoved it away, looking dramatically betrayed. Kenma handed you his rice ball without comment.

You took it. Ate half of it. Then glared at the seaweed.

“Why do they always put this stupid strip around it? It gets in my teeth. This is dumb.”

Kenma, chewing slowly, nodded.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why aren’t you reacting?”

He swallowed. “To what?”

“I’m literally in distress.”

He looked at your face. Then said, deadpan, “Because you always are.”

You gasped.

“How dare you—”

“I meant it affectionately.”

“I can’t believe you would say that to your pregnant girlfriend—who gave you this rice ball, by the way—and is currently carrying your literal child, and is now crying again because you’re being so mean—!”

He sighed and opened his juice box for you without saying a word.

You drank it while sniffling, tears forgotten within two minutes.

AFTERNOON —

“Kenmaaa…”

He didn’t look up from tying his shoes, but his fingers paused. “Yeah?”

“I have a weird pain in my side.”

“Is it sharp?”

“No, it’s like… stabby and dull at the same time.”

“That’s… the opposite of helpful.”

You were sitting on a bench in the hallway just outside the gym, pouting, back pressed against the wall. Your legs were swinging over the edge even though your ankles were swollen and your backpack was slipping off your shoulder.

“Can you stay with me?” you asked, voice small.

“I have practice,” he murmured.

“You could skip?”

He looked up. “I’ve already missed two. Coach said if I ditch again, I’m benched for next week’s game.”

You blinked slowly. Then shrugged, voice suddenly sharp:

“Fine. Just go.”

Kenma stood, frowning. “(Y/n)—”

“You don’t even want to be around me. Admit it. You’ve been annoyed with me all day.”

“That’s not—”

“Then say it. Say you’re not sick of me losing my mind every five minutes and crying in public and stealing your lunch and waking you up at three a.m. because I forgot what heartburn felt like.”

Kenma’s jaw tightened.

You stood too, chest heaving a little. “Just say it, Kenma.”

And then, he snapped.

“Fine! I’m exhausted, okay?!”

You froze.

His voice echoed down the hallway. His shoulders were tense, eyes wide now that the words had left his mouth.

“I’m tired, (Y/n). Of feeling like I can’t do anything right. Of worrying that you’ll break down no matter what I say. I love you, but—this is hard.”

Silence.

Your bottom lip trembled. “You think I don’t know that?”

His face dropped.

“I didn’t mean—”

But it was too late.

You turned away, shaking, tears spilling over your cheeks.

Kenma stood frozen for a second before rushing after you.

You tried to brush him off, but he gently grabbed your wrist. “Wait. Please don’t walk off.”

“Let go.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.” His voice cracked.

You stood with your back to him. “I already know I’m a mess. You didn’t have to remind me.”

Kenma stepped closer. “You’re not a mess. You’re just—pregnant. And overwhelmed. And I made it worse.” He gently rested a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

You said nothing.

Then you turned, eyes glassy, and whispered, “I’m scared.”Kenma’s expression crumbled. “I know,” he said softly. “Me too.”

You threw your arms around him and buried your face in his hoodie. He held you tightly, one hand protectively on your back.

After a while, he said:

“I don’t want you to cry anymore.” “You say that every time I cry." “I know. I keep losing.”

You laughed softly, still wet-faced.

Then he added:

“…Do you want to come sit in the gym while I practice? I’ll make Kuroo bring you juice.”

You nodded.

And even though your day had been all over the place, for now—right now—it felt okay again.

[adumbratrapedme]

Doubts | teen pregnancy series

characters: kenma | wc idk | genre. pure fluff !|cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, angst - hurt - confort. teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

important ! sorry again for leaving lol i sort of lost the acc xD also not proofread + might be a few errors

Kenma wasn't exactly someone girls noticed.

Not in the traditional way. He wasn’t tall like Kuroo or loud like Yamamoto. He didn’t smile at strangers or charm people with his words. He was quiet. Blunt. Withdrawn. Some people even called him cold. Others said he was weird—maybe even a loser. A kid with bad posture and constant dark circles under his eyes, always bent over his Switch or his phone.

And yet, somehow, despite all of that…

He had you.

But lately, you wondered if that was a mistake.

Especially now.

Especially with her.

It started that morning.

A new first-year had transferred into Class 1-B, a girl with curled lashes, clear gloss, and a kind of careless confidence that came naturally to people who'd never once wondered if they'd ruined someone else's life.

Kenma had been seated behind her for homeroom, and by lunchtime, she was already leaning over his desk, playing with a strand of her hair, saying something about how cool it was that he was into games and oh my god you play that too? That’s amazinG!t!

You didn’t even hear the rest. You turned away before she could laugh again, that kind of flirty little laugh you hadn’t made in months. Not since the nausea, the weight gain, the backaches, the late-night panics when you cried into your pillow wondering what Kenma saw in someone who could barely look at herself in the mirror anymore.

You felt… monstrous, lately.

You were five months along. Showing. Belly firm and tight under your uniform, not big for others to notice but big enough to make you uncomftarble . Your face was puffier. You moved slower. You got out of breath. And sometimes—like now—you wanted to just disappear.

Because she was pretty. Because she wasn’t pregnant. Because she wasn’t the reason Kozume Kenma had to work part-time after school or save his allowances for prenatal vitamins and baby stuff.

Because she could flirt with him without her stomach making her feel like she was going to cry.

Kenma found you in the stairwell between the second and third floors, sitting with your arms around your bump, eyes glossy and far away.

He blinked once, then twice.

“Did someone say something to you?” he asked gently.

You shook your head.

He didn’t believe you. He crouched in front of you slowly, his hoodie sleeves slipping down his wrists. His hands settled on your knees.

“You’re crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“(Y/n).”

You wiped your face with your sleeve, frustrated and embarrassed. “It’s dumb, okay? You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’d like to try.”

You hesitated. Then you said, softly, “She was flirting with you.”

Kenma tilted his head slightly, confused. “Who?”

“The new girl. In 1-B.”

“Oh.”

“She’s pretty. I’m—” Your voice broke a little. “I’m not. Not anymore. And I’m tired. And I’m huge. And I ruined everything for you.”

His silence felt like a knife. You looked away.

Kenma stood up abruptly. For a second, you thought he might leave. Instead, he sat beside you. His body was warm, shoulder brushing yours. He didn’t speak right away, just slipped one hand into yours, his thumb gently rubbing circles against your skin.

“I don’t care if she flirted with me,” he said eventually. “I barely noticed. I was thinking about how long my game would take to update.”

You huffed a laugh. Barely.

“I don’t care about her,” he added, quieter now. “I care about you. And the baby. And us.”

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be a good mom.”

“You will be.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You already are.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. He let you. There was something grounding about the way he was always so calm. So still. Like he was thinking even when he wasn’t talking.

“Do you ever… regret it?” you asked.

He was silent for a moment.

“Getting you pregnant? No. The way it happened, maybe. But not you. Not her.”

“…Really?”

Kenma turned toward you a little. His hand moved to rest lightly on your stomach.

“She kicked yesterday,” you said softly, almost like it was a secret. “It was weird. But also… kind of amazing.”

You bit your lip, eyes stinging again. But this time, it wasn’t just from sadness.

“I think she’s going to be a great gamer,” he mumbled, cheeks dusting pink.

You laughed quietly through your tears.

“That’s what you think about?”

“Yeah.”

“Not that I’m ruining your life?”

“Is more complicated, yes. But not worse.”

You exhaled, shaky, and leaned fully into him.

“Thanks, Kenma.”

“Mm.”

After a pause, he added, “I like you pregnant. You’re soft. And warm. And you wear those fuzzy sweters.”

“Kenma—”

He blinked innocently. “It’s true.”

You laughed again, tired but full, and let yourself believe—just for today—that you were still worthy of love. That maybe Kenma wasn’t just staying because he had to.

Maybe he stayed because he wanted to.

[adumbratrapedme]

100/1000

A Taste of Forbidden Pleasures

Jinshi smut! Fingering, 18+, virgin, female reader, obsessive Jinshi, oral, pussy eating, dick sucking, fingering, maybe tiny bit of size kink?

!!NON KINKY VERSION!!

kinky version posted. 

(Well maybe this might be kinky to some people but it’s not imo and isn’t compared to the other version.)

I felt like my original version might be a bit too kinky for the fandom so I made this one for people who aren’t really into kinky stuff

You’re both virgins, you both try your best not to take it too far. At first it was convincing yourself you’d never date Jinshi then it was convincing yourself you’d never fall in love with him because it was doomed to fail. After all you were a servant girl and he had high title, nobody would take it seriously. Clearly you failed and fell head over heels in love with him. You were both set on being eachothers forever and only partner no matter what. No matter the cost. That being said you both tried to tell each other it was best not to take it further than kissing.

Tonight the both of you were making out in his chambers as you always did. Only this time his kisses were more needy. He was whimpering inbetween each kiss. You were trying to contain yourself and not to the same. You succeeded on that but you were growing annoyingly wet with every kiss. His knee was inching closer and closer to your groin as the minutes went by. Jinshi knew his knee was creeping closer and closer to your sweet spot. He knew exactly what he wanted and he wanted to make you needy and whiny underneath him just like he always was under you when you make out with him on his lap like usual. Only this time he was on top of you so he had leverage. When Jinshi finally got his knee touching the sweet spot he longed for he felt a wet spot on the tip of his knee. You let out the sweetest gasp he’d ever heard in his life. He couldn’t contain himself. He left your mouth and started kissing up your neck until his lips met your ears and he cooed “Let me fuck you y/n, please”

You grab onto his robe not expecting him to say such a lewd thing “Jinshi no, you’d probably be too rough!”

He holds your face in his palms and looks down into your eyes with such a beautiful look. One almost too hard to resist. 

Jinshi “No I would not do you really think that about me?”

You pause for a moment before saying “It wouldn’t fit even if you were gentle.”

You knew quite a bit about sex so helping others wasn’t an issue but the few times you’d touched yourself you could tell you would have a hard time taking anything larger than your own fingers.

On the other hand you had taken lots of time practicing your skills with your mouth on vegetables. You had no doubt you’d be able to please him in that regard. You’d always expected to do something to him first. He always got a bit carried away with kissing you were worried he would have no idea what he was doing and hurt your poor insides even though you know sweet Jinshi would never mean to.

Jinshi would like to be more experienced than he is. Luckily he has done quite an embarrassing amount of reading up on the topic. He wasn’t too interested in doing that sort of thing with someone else. That is not until he met you. He had re-read all of the old books he did before and a large sum of new ones just to learn all the ways he could please you one day. In his alone time he had done some practicing with his fingers on various fruits such as peaches and oranges. He had no doubt he was quite skilled with his fingers at this point. He had no doubt he wouldn’t be able to please you now. If only you’d let him. He can be quite needy for you but he had practiced on enough fruits even an egg yolk to know his way around a vagina. That being said he did break a lot of egg yolk for the first few times but not after that. He practiced hundreds of times after that just to be sure he wouldn’t hurt you. A bit obsessive. But who wouldn’t be when it comes to the love of their life?

After a long pause you say “What if I do you first?”

Jinshi shakes his head no. “Next time.” He wants this to be about you. He’d spent countless nights imagining your face, your sounds, as he pleasured you. Though imagining your pretty little mouth or tiny hands on his cock was nice too he was in the mood for something else. For your release. 

Jinshi “Just my fingers please my love.”

You cross your arms “I said you’d be too rough.”

Jinshi “I’m gentle.”

You “Really?”

Jinshi smirks “Yes, especially with my fingers” 

You “You can barely contain yourself around me. The first time I said I love you back while kissing you came in your robe. How am I supposed to think you’d be gentle now hm?”

Jinshi “I’ll show you just. Trust me.”

You “Yeah whatever, you can never keep your lips off of mine kissing me aggressively 24/7 like you’re in heat.”

Jinshi “Yes I can”

He leaned down and kisses you gently. He teases his tongue on your lips, similar to how he would like to one day to your lips down below.

You can’t tell if his tongue on your lips moving the way on your lips they are is intentional but it only makes you want him more. You involuntarily grind onto his knee, getting lost in his soft kisses. He releases after a moment. Your lips feel cold you want him back. You let out a pout and try to pull his face back but he takes hold of your hand and holds it down above your head on the bed with his own. 

You “See, can’t keep your lips off of me.”

Jinshi “That was gentle no?”

You “Yes I suppose…”

You didn’t notice you were getting completely soaked on his knee. He pressed his knee to your pussy harder. Pressing down on your clit. Your eyes met his filled with lust.

Jinshi “You’re soaking my knee. Please. I just-I fucking need you pleaseeee y/n.”

You bite your lip “Okay.”

Jinshi needs to hear you say it “Yes?”

You “Yes.”

He gently removes your clothes until there’s nothing left but your soaked panties. He took much longer than you wanted him to. His slow kisses all over your body, taking his time, it was driving you crazy. You were the one that was hesitant at first but now all you wanted was for him to hurry up and take you. When you were in nothing left but your panties he traced his fingers along the hem with one hand and rubbed your hips with the other, taking in your beauty. 

You whine “Jinshi pleaseee.”

Jinshi “Can’t I admire how pretty my princess is? Alright Jinshi will hurry up, shh princess.”

He finally removes your panties. A string of wetness glistened as he removed them. Jinshi grazed his fingers along your pussy gently. Avoiding just the spot you wanted him to touch. You bucked your hips begging him to feel you where you needed most. Your face was so red anyone else would’ve thought he’d given you an aphrodisiac. He read up on foreplay. Oh, he read up on a LOT of foreplay. You were exactly where he wanted you. He spread your legs wide open and spit directly on your clit. He watched in awe at how you convulsed at the sensation.

He chuckled. “Alright, alright.” Jinshi traced his thumb up and down your slit gathering your sweet juices. Then he traced two fingers over your throbbing clit. He was much gentler than you expected him to be. You never expected you to be the needy one in this situation. You started moaning so loud you were sure everyone would’ve heard you if Jinshis house wasn’t so far away. 

Jinshi looked as you in awe “Fuck you sound so pretty for me, don’t hold back.”

You kept repeating a plea of “Jinshi please!” You weren’t sure what you were pleading for. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to stop. He knew exactly what your body wanted from those begs. He began to place two fingers at your entrance. He gasped when he felt how tight you were. His books had always said to start with two fingers than add more but you were far too precious to him and he never wanted to hurt you. He removed the tips of both his fingers and settled with one. He lowered his middle finger gently into your cunt while rubbing your clit with his thumb. That went in much easier. He knew he would have to work on stretching his precious pretty girl out for a while before you could take his cock but he didn’t mind that one bit. Your hips started involuntarily moving on their own at the sensation of his finger. You were so sensitive under his touch. You knew you must have looked so stupid right now. How could the roles reverse into you being the needy one so fast? You desperately tried to hide your face in your hair or the sheets but all Jinshi did was brush the hair out of your face and force you to face him. “Don’t hide from me pretty. Aww so sweet, are you sensitive? I’ve got you. Let Jinshi do all the work okay princess.” He held your hips in place while he fingered you. Once he felt you opening up more he slowly slid his pointer finger inside you as-well. You tilted your head back. Jinshi felt you pulsing around him hard. He was obsessed He leaned down and started kissing your neck. He was moaning inbetween kisses. At this point he returned to being the needy one. He sounded as if he was almost enjoying this more than you. He can’t help but grind into your legs as he’s knuckles deep inside your perfect cunt. To your surprise despite how needy he’s gotten he’s still remaining just as gentle. His fingers filling your  hole mixed with Jinshi being a whimpering hard mess is sending you over the edge. You’d only came on your fingers a few times but this, this felt much more intense. Jinshi could feel you getting close. He lifts his head up from your neck to watch your face. He wanted to watch how beautiful his girl looked when she came all over his fingers. The feeling around his fingers as you came mixed with the look on your face was too much for Jinshi. He came all over his robe just as he was letting you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. You chuckled. You knew your Jinshi would return to his needy lusted out self. “Such a beautiful boy”

He releases himself from your cunt. 

Jinshi “Told you I’d be gentle.”

You “I’ll believe you next time.”

Jinshi “Better.”

Jinshi licked his fingers clean. The haze over his face from the taste of your juices was intoxicating. He nearly looks as if he’s drunk from just tasting you. “C-can I taste?”

You “You just did Jinshi.”

He kneels down resting his face just where he wants it “You know what I mean.”

You “Yes please”

You grab a fist full of his hair and lower his face down to your cunt. You’re so sensitive after just having came but you don’t care. You can’t get enough of him. The feeling of his tongue inside your walls is addicting. He can’t release his mouth from your lips. He is in love with your taste, with your feel, your insides are so soft on his tongue. On his lips. He loves it. You can tell he’s hard all over again just from the way he’s grinding into the sheets. You’d never heard much of men getting hard from eating a girl out and especially not getting hard again after they’ve came. You didn’t mind though. At this rate you’re all worked up again and desperate to taste Jinshi if he’ll let you. You’d seen him hard through his robe many times but never the real thing. You’ve wanted to many times but were too worried more would happen if you did. Now you don’t care. You pull him by the hair off of you and throw Jinshi on his back. You straddle his lap. Jinshi is confused he was enjoying his meal. 

Jinshi “Satisfied?”

You “No.”

Jinshi pouts “Was my tongue not to your liking princess?”

You “That’s not quite what I mean. I liked that very much.” You begin to take off his robe. You can fell his hardness pressing against your ass. Good that’s just what you wanted. 

Jinshi gasps, his cheeks grow bright red. “What are you-“

You “May I?”

Jinshi nods.

You begin to kiss down his chest and go to down lower. You palm his cock in your hand. “Mmm pretty.” you kiss the tip. He can’t take his eyes off of you.

Jinshi “Fuck princess-god. Ahh!”

You lick up the side of his cock while making eye contact “Want me to stop?”

He shakes his head no and grabs the back of your hair for something to hold onto. He tries to be soft he doesn’t want you to overdo yourself. 

You “You don’t have to hold back with my mouth you know. I don’t have a gag reflex.”

You appreciated how composed Jinshi was with his fingers but honestly you really wanted to see him let go. Not have control. At least your throat could handle that. 

Jinshi “What did you just say?”

You “I have no gag reflex.”

Jinshi sits up and places two fingers down your throat to test. He’d came many times imagining your mouth wrapped around his cock but he didn’t want to do too much if you wouldn’t be able to handle it. When his fingers bottomed out in your throat and you didn’t gag he hissed. He added a third finger because that was closer to the size of his cock. When you didn’t gag at that either he raised a brow and you smirked at him deviously. He began slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of your mouth. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation. It felt nice to you. Jinshi removed his fingers. He was panting already just by the site of that. 

You “Believe me?”

Jinshi “Fuck I believe you!”

You “I want you to thrust into my throat with your dick.”

Jinshi “Are you sure my love?”

You “Yes please.”

Jinshi “What about when I cum?”

You “Just pull out and finish mostly on my chest. I don’t know if I’d like the taste just yet.”

Jinshi “I understand. Okay. Here, kneel on the stool that’s infront of the bed and I’ll stand infront of you.”

Your face lights up, you’re excited to see your lover let go. Your excitement has him leaking with precum. Once you’ve gotten on your knees atop of the stool he stands infront of you. His cock at perfect level with your mouth. You stick out your tongue eagerly. You grab hold of his hips inviting him inside. He grabs the back of your hair to push himself deep inside your mouth. You start bobbing your head to assure him you’re fine. You push his hand on the back of your head harder to motion him to let go. Once he’s assured you’ll be fine he starts thrusting down your throat. His pace is fast, though he still holds back slightly not wanting to hurt his princess. Jinshi is a moaning mess. You look so fucking pretty like this. To pretty. He’s not sure how long he’ll be able to last like this. He wants to do this to you all night. His hands are definitely never going to feel as good after this. While he’s busy bobbing your head up and down with one hand. You take hold of his free hand and place it on your breast. That sends Jinshi over the edge. He pulls out of your throat and finishes on your chest. 

You “Maybe next time you can cum inside.”

Jinshi pants “You’re going to kill me if you keep saying such things!”

You “You were such a good boy.”

Jinshi draws the both of you a bath. He carefully washes your body then you do his. After the both of you cuddle in his bed chambers. The both of you should get dressed but neither of you care if someone catches you anymore. 

You “You know Jinshi you’re oddly skilled.”

He smiles to himself proudly. He’ll tell you about his practice another time.

Kinky version ↓↓↓

[adumbratrapedme]

Kuroo x reader | teen pregnancy series. | the news

characters: kuroo| wc idk | genre. pure fluff !|cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, baby bumps. teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

Kuroo

Headcanons:

╭⋅I'm extremely sorry but i cannot picture him reacting on a bad way- ofc he is not bubbly excited... who would in a situation like this?! yet well he wont be mean (at least i want to believe so...) ╭⋅both of you are on un 3rd year btw!! ╭⋅also, he is extra nerdy with you, and for this story u are just as nerdy as him!! ╭⋅And thanks to this u guys are notorious in school for being the power nerd couple, heehhe—aces in exams, kings in science fairs, and i jst know u guys have matching lab coats "for the bit." mwahaah ╭⋅Everyone knows you’re dating, not because you announced it, but because your lab reports come with flirty footnotes and he calls you “babe” while doing Bunsen burner safety checks. ╭⋅You two flirt using chemistry puns constantly. One time during an organic chem study session, he deadass said, “Wanna form an exothermic reaction?” and started taking off his shirt. (ehem ehem) ╭⋅The night it happened? You were “studying” together—textbooks open, but half your focus was on the way he looked scribbling equations with his sleeves rolled up. One thing led to another. It was inevitable. Nerds with no chill. ╭⋅After ur reveal he immediately starts trying to make nerdy jokes to cope. Suggests naming the baby something wild like “Radical” or “Valence.” You veto it on sight. ╭⋅Once the shock wears off, Kuroo goes full responsible mode—but still very much in his chaotic science-boy way. ╭⋅He makes a shared Google Doc titled “Pregnancy: Research and Strategy Plan” and fills it with links, to-do lists, charts, and a spreadsheet of baby names with scientific etymology. ╭⋅Starts bringing you snacks, prenatal vitamins, and random facts like, “The fetus can hear sound at week 16 so we should probably start reading it chemistry notes.” ╭⋅You’re still you two—nerdy, stubborn, a little too smart for your own good—but now you’ve got a tiny science experiment growing between you and somehow, it just… works. ╭⋅btw this one takes place on the same "universe" where kenma got his gf pregnant (teen pregnancy series) but obiously 1 year later

Kuroo’s sprawled on the floor of your room, half-draped over a textbook, mumbling formulas under his breath. You’re seated at your desk, tapping a pencil against your lip, watching him like you’re analyzing a very complicated math problem. Maybe because you are.

It’s not the equations, though.

It’s the conversation that’s about to drop like a physics-defying bowling ball onto his head.

“Hey,” you say, casually, like you’re about to ask if he wants a snack or something.

Kuroo hums without looking up. “If this quadratic equation was a villain, I’d punch it in the face.”

You nod, then say, “I’m pregnant.”

He freezes, pencil mid-stroke. The silence stretches. You count the seconds before he blinks. One. Two. Three.

His head slowly lifts, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Wait. Like… in theory? Or—”

“In practice,” you say, voice dry.

The pencil slips from his hand.

“Oh.” He blinks again, expression unreadable for a second. Then: “Okay. Okay. So like… how pregnant are we talking? Hypothetically in the first trimester? Or like, we need to name it next week pregnant?”

“Just took the test,” you reply. “It wasn’t subtle.”

He sits up straighter, legs crossed now, and stares at you. “Okay. Wow. Uh. This is happening. You're so calm.”

“Freaking out won’t change the results,” you say with a shrug. “Besides, you're the one who said, and I quote, ‘It’s not rocket science, babe.’”

“That was—! That was about the homework!”

You give him a knowing look.

“Okay, fair.”

There’s a beat of silence. He runs a hand through his messy hair, clearly short-circuiting. You walk over and plop down beside him, stealing one of his notebooks to fan yourself lazily.

“You mad?” you ask. You already know the answer, but you like hearing it.

He lets out a breath, then shakes his head. “No. Just… surprised. But I’m with you. We’re gonna figure this out. We always do.”

“Power couple shit,” you say with a smirk.

“Exactly. Smartest dumb decision we’ve ever made.”

You laugh, and for a moment, it’s like nothing’s changed—except everything has.

And still, he reaches for your hand, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

Now, a few hours had passed and of course kuroo was still thinking over and over the topic.

Kuroo rubs the back of his neck, eyes flicking to the ceiling of the overhang outside the shop as you both stroll down the street. His steps slow, like he's running some intense mental calculation.

“So… wait. When do you think it happened? Like, conception-wise?”

You squint at the sidewalk, pretending to think hard. “Probably that night we were doing that organic chem cram session.”

His mouth drops open slightly. “You mean the one where we couldn’t finish the chapter because someone got distracted talking about ‘bond strength’ and how ‘covalent sharing’ is so intimate?”

You smirk. “Yeah. And someone said, ‘Wanna form an exothermic reaction?’ and then took off their shirt like it was part of the curriculum.”

Kuroo groans dramatically, dragging his palm down his face. “Oh my god. We literally synthesized a whole human because I couldn’t shut up with the chemistry pickup lines.”

You nudge him with your elbow, grinning. “To be fair, you did cause a reaction.”

He throws his head back with a laugh and then mutters, “This is gonna be the nerdiest origin story for a baby ever. We should name it something cool like ‘Radical’… y’know, for free radicals?”

You chuckle. “We’re not naming our child after unstable electrons, Tetsurou.”

“Fine,” he sighs, but he’s still smiling, his cheeks a bit red from both the walk and the embarrassment. “But I want it on record that we were doing homework when this happened. That’s like, parental legacy gold.”

You roll your eyes. “A+ for effort. Literally.”

He snorts, adjusting the strap of the tote bag he’s carrying (which was actually yours). Then he glances sideways at you, a wicked grin forming.

“Well,” he says, stretching out the words, “looks like Kenma’s girl gonna have a friend now.”

You almost choke. “Oh my god—”

He grins proudly. “I’m just saying. Accidental power couple babies? It's a new generation.”

You smack his arm lightly. “You better hope our kid doesn’t inherit your flirt-to-pregnancy ratio.”

“Hey,” he defends, grinning. “That was a scientifically charged environment. Not my fault chemistry was too strong to resist.”

You both burst out laughing just as the neon lights of the convenience store come into view—probably the last moment of calm before things get real. But somehow, with him by your side, even chaos feels like something you can conquer.

With an A+.

General Taglist:

@sillymitsurii @saphiranishimurashan

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! also if u only want to be tagged on specific characters.

-if i forgor the other users i used to have on my list pre-hiatus so i apologize!!

[adumbratrapedme]

kenma x reader | teen pregnancy series. | Feeling the baby kick

characters: kenma | wc idk | genre. pure fluff !|cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, baby bumps. teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

Kenma

sleeves bunched at his wrists, thumbs moving in practiced motions over the buttons. You lay beside him, stretched out under his blanket, one hand cradling your round belly as you listened to the gentle clicks of his game.

It was peaceful — the kind of silence that only came when you were with him. No need for words, no pressure to fill space. Just warmth.

You shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure on your back. Something about today felt different — not in a bad way, just… new. Your hand moved instinctively over your stomach, drawing soft circles.

“She’s quiet,” you murmured without looking at him. “More than usual.”

Kenma blinked, pausing his game. “That okay?��

“Yeah,” you said. “She’s probably just napping or—”

Thump.

You gasped, sitting up just a little. “Wait—wait—did I just—?”

“What?” Kenma asked, instantly more alert.

“I think she kicked.” You grabbed his hand and pressed it to the spot just under your ribs. “Right here. Just wait—”

Thump.

His eyes widened slightly, his hand going still. You watched the surprise wash over his face — that rare, subtle shift in his expression like something sacred had just happened.

“That’s her?” he whispered.

You nodded, tears pricking your eyes. “That’s her.”

For a few seconds, neither of you moved. Then came another tiny nudge, as if your daughter knew she had an audience now. Kenma looked down at your belly like it was the most important game screen he’d ever seen.

He smiled — barely, but it was there. A genuine, lopsided little curve of his lips.

“I can already tell,” he said softly, still staring. “She’s gonna be a great gamer.”

You laughed through the sudden sting of tears. “Yeah? Just from one kick?”

“She has good timing,” he said matter-of-factly. “She interrupted a boss fight perfectly.”

You shook your head, grinning. “She gets that from you.”

Kenma didn’t answer. He just leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his hand still resting gently on the place she had kicked. There was no need to say anything else.

In his quiet room, with his game forgotten and your daughter making her tiny presence known for the first time, everything felt real. Soft. Right.

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! <3 tysm for ur support guysehehrbe Due to my small hiautus i kinda forgor who was part of the taglist + feel a bit shy to mention people .p

[adumbratrapedme]

BRO THIS IS NOT BASKETBALL