#pregnancy emotion

[lazylittledragon]

pre-dadstarion shenanigans

bonus:

[willowser]

once you and katsuki discover you're expecting, you agree to keep it to yourselves for a little while.

you can't hide forever, but you want the chance to bask in the excitement of what's to come, together, away from outside eyes prying in. and you do: there's an immediate difference in the way you touch each other, how often, with katsuki even shifting coverage for patrol just so he can cling to your side for an extra day or two. it's like a honeymoon, almost, and you take the time to enjoy it like one.

but of course he wants to tell his parents as soon as he can, though he doesn't outright admit it; as soon as you start pushing the boundary of your waistband, he finds time in his schedule to see his dad—and then mitsuki makes time for him to see her.

katsuki tells toshinori next, who becomes quite emotional at the sight of your ultrasound, which in turn makes katsuki surprisingly emotional, too. there's much that they say and even more that they don't, but it's all communicated, regardless.

and lastly—he has to tell his nerd-ass friends.

it happens on one of their bi-monthly outings—that katsuki has consecutively been skipping for a little while, for obvious reasons. and it's like the minute he sits down in his seat and orders his food and one beer, everything he'd planned to say dissolves in his head.

despite wanting to keep quiet, he's been trying to plot out his announcement to these exact shit heads since the moment you found out. it's just so personal, and even after everything, katsuki's still discovering how to share those parts of his life with others, still coming to terms with the fact that he wants to.

he'd considered doing it slowly, rather than all at once in front of all of them, but he very quickly realized how terrible of a plan that was; deku would not physically be able to contain such knowledge in his body for any period of time, kirishima is a notorious fucking gossip, and if shouto had given him some kind of shit ass, wrinkled-nose look, he would have had to howitzer him through a building.

so he just says it, because he's never really been one for subtlety.

right after everyone's received their food and started to take their first bites, denki makes a point to ask,

"how's things with your honeybun, kacchan?"

and normally he'd have a fit at the nickname, but instead he hears bun and feels his stomach flip like it does when he remembers, when silly little things remind him of what the two of you have made together, and into his food, he simply says,

"we're havin' a baby."

the expected silence falls over all of them, save for the scaping of utensils against katsuki's bowl. he's damn good at feigning nonchalance, but food is getting stuck in his throat and his heart is beating so hard that he can hear it deep in his eardrums. of course he knows, but it dawns on him again, how overrun he is with excitement.

across the table, denki takes his turn to speak again. "you're...what?"

and then the whole room is erupting into a mass of chaos, moving in pieces like a riot of unrefined children, and even though he's being hounded with a million questions and being shaken around by his shoulders and some of these assholes are crying—katsuki graces them all with a big, fat grin.

[bigassmoonchild]

Maple Syrup Masterlist

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETED

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Total Parts: 17

Total Word Count: ~43.3k

Summary: A mission that was supposed to be easy doesn't go your way, but when does it ever when the 141 is involved? Aphrodisiacs that were incredibly powerful were used on yourself and Simon, and with one accident it took over your lives. Now, you need to figure out how to go about life as a newly mated Omega in a world made for Alphas.

Content Tags: Smut, Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen, Fuck or Die, Heat, Rut, Angst, Knotting, PIV Sex, Biting, Hurt/No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Typical Violence, Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Pregnancy, Kinda Pregnancy Loss, Teasing, Use of Pet-Names, Simon is shit at talking and emotions, He figures it out tho, Dropping of the L word, Near Death, Pregnancy, Vomiting, Task Force 141 is a Pack, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: I just wanted to make sure anyone who needed (or wanted) to have a one-stop shop for the Maple Syrup series (and drabbles pertaining to it) can have it. Please send me asks! Masterlist under the Cut!

🧼 = smut, 🧸 = angst, 💞 = fluff

Main Storyline:

Part 1: Maple Syrup 🧼

Part 2: The Aftermath 🧸

Part 3: Alpha, Please 🧼💞

Part 4: Feral 💞

Part 5: The Hearing 🧸

Part 6: Talk 🧸

Part 7: Lost and Found 🧸 💞

Part 8: Hot and Cold 🧼 🧸

Part 9: Hoops 🧸

Part 10: Thirteen 🧸

Part 11: Tags 🧸

Part 12: Ghost 🧸

Part 13: Tea 🧸💞🧼

Part 14: Meetings 🧸💞

Part 15: Tears 🧸💞

Part 16: Nothing 🧸

Part 17: Happy 💞🧸

Drabbles, Oneshots, Side-Stories:

Simons Rut 🧼

Headcannons 💞🧸🧼

[pansy-picnics]

“it takes a village to raise a child.”

every time someone calls them new dream kids i will make sure a civilian mysteriously goes missing from a disney park

[poppiesforthirteen]

i don't get people who don't like looms because "when two time lords love each other very much they send a formal application to the council to use a machine that is in their house" is so much funnier than a nuclear family

[lainalit]

The only feelings & fears regarding feyre's deadly pregnancy I'm interested to hear about are FEYRE'S, not cassian's, not nesta's and certainly not rhysand's

[peaches2217]

Peach is asleep in her favorite chaise. A book laying open in the floor, its pages splayed over the tiles, hints at an earlier attempt to keep herself awake with some light reading, but now she's curled up on soft pink cushions without a care in the world. Her crown is at the foot of the chaise alongside her bright red pumps; stockinged feet poke out from beneath her petticoats, her toes periodically wiggling in her sleep; one arm supports her head against the arm of the chaise, and the other is draped over her midsection.

A spring breeze blows in through an open window, tousling her hair. Her nose twitches at the ticklish strands that splay across her face, and then she draws her knees closer with a contented sigh, the arm around her midriff curling in tighter.

Mario has never understood the phenomenon of cuteness aggression so well as he does now. He wants to fell an oak with his bare hands, repeatedly slam his full weight into the nearest immovable obstacle, maybe punch a god in the face, all so she can continue to rest undisturbed in peaceful stillness.

Of course, none of that aggression actually manifests as he approaches her. He actually feels quite weak the closer he gets. She’s understandably expressed frustration at her recent sleepy spells  — nurturing life or not, she’s still a monarch, she can’t just nap whenever it suits her — so to see her so serene, the smallest of smiles gracing her plush lips, makes Mario want to melt into a big, goopy puddle. She deserves this. She deserves this and so much more.

He kneels beside her and kisses her forehead softly. The thought of waking her would be unbearable if not for the promise of pampering her and making her far more comfortable. Call it a necessary evil.

“Hey.” He brushes golden flyaways from her face, tucking them behind her ear. “Hey, you’re gonna be all sore in the morning if you sleep here, yeah? Wakey-wakey, Princess.”

His Princess, the benevolent and regal Mushroom Queen, furrows her brows and grumbles her disapproval. Though she leans into his touch on instinct, the rest of her body withdraws in protest. The arm supporting her head joins her opposite arm as she readjusts, and then her cheek is smushed against the chaise, one hand absently rubbing her stomach as she cradles it in her forearms.

Mario, not normally one for tears, has never felt the urge to fall to his knees and weep so strongly in all his life. The fact that he’s already on his knees is his one saving grace. How can any one person be so perfect?

“Peachyyyyy,” he sing-songs, already slipping his arms beneath her knees and back.

“Mmmryuuoooh,” she groans in response.

In one smooth movement, he hoists her from the chaise and stands to his feet, leaning back a bit so she can remain comfortably reclined against him. Her arms wrap easily around his neck as he carries her to their room, her cheek against his, and he can’t resist planting a few kisses to that cheek between the chaise and the bed. She giggles beneath his affections and mutters something about his mustache, and though Mario utters an apology in turn, he can’t really say he’s sorry in the slightest.

She doesn’t let go when he tries to lay her on the bedcovers. Instead, she hangs on tighter, and though he could still break away easily, Mario won’t even entertain the thought. He instead coaxes her into sitting on the mattress while still leaning against him, and he blindly works the buttons of her dress; only when the last button pops open at his fingertips does Peach relax her hold, allowing him to pull the puffy pink garment from her body and discard it thoughtlessly on the floor.

He repeats the process with her petticoats, then her brassiere, and only then does she lay back against the sheets. Thoroughly spent in spite of her lack of effort, she pushes her cheek into her pillow with a quiet sigh. It takes every ounce of self-restraint Mario possesses to keep from leaning over her immediately and peppering her tired face in kisses.

“Don’t move,” he says instead, tapping the tip of her nose. Another smile plays on her lips as she hums in acknowledgement.

Within a few more minutes, he helps her into a silky nightgown and lays her back down, where she lifts her arms so he can tuck the blankets over her relaxed form. One hand, predictably, comes to rest on her stomach, and the other, almost as predictably, finds one of his hands.

Lacing their fingers together, Mario takes a moment to glance down at where her opposite palm lies. The swell in her abdomen is only noticeable when her spine is straight and her clothes are form-fitting or gone entirely, and even then, it’s not readily identifiable for what it is. Yet ever since discovering it in the bathroom mirror last week, her hands scarcely leave that swell when she’s alone or when it’s just the two of them. He’s even caught her clasping her hands lower than usual while within the public eye, hovering as close as possible without giving away the as-of-now secret that she’s carrying their child.

She’s carrying their child. Wow. Why does the notion still feel so surreal? He’s known this for nearly a month now, yet still his thoughts are consumed with her alone. It’s bound to sink in eventually, right?

“Need anything?” he asks. “Water? Heating pad? A massage?”

Peach doesn’t answer. The slow rise and fall of her chest informs Mario that she’s already dozed off again.

Still, he can’t bring himself to move just yet. He rubs circles into her hand with his thumb, staring for a while at her peaceful, rosy complexion. What more can he do? He wants to draw a piping hot bubble bath for her and brush her hair while she soaks, he wants to carry her in his arms so she needn’t waste energy on walking, he wants to bear the world and all its hardships on his shoulders so she can remain as she is now, healthy and happy and resting blissfully.

After all, growing a tiny human is a tough job. She’s got her work cut out for her. And already she’s falling so easily into the role of a mother, loving and devoted…

Gingerly, he leans over to kiss the space between her eyebrows, resting his palm atop the hand on her belly. “I love you,” he whispers against her skin, and he realizes, maybe for the first time, that he’s not just saying it to her alone.

He’s not sure what to make of the feeling that rises within him — it feels vaguely similar to what he calls cuteness aggression, that mixed desire to melt into a puddle of fondness and good feelings while taking on an army with nothing more than his fists. Maybe it’s love, he thinks as he withdraws, his hands lingering a moment longer. A love that’s neither platonic nor romantic nor fraternal. A love unlike any he’s experienced yet.

Maybe this is the fabled love of a father.

That thought echoes through his mind long after he turns from them, and as he hurries to change clothes so he can join them in bed, he finds that suddenly he can’t stop smiling.

[keepthetension]

still stuck on porjai, visibly pregnant, flirting with night

who fucking goes for it

i only know the asian culture i grew up in, obviously, and not thai culture. but the social stigma of being unmarried and pregnant? and having the nerve to still be flirting?? that's not the Good Girl thing to do, and i remember the way the Not Good Girls were treated and talked about where i grew up

so porjai actively trying to get dates? night finding out she's pregnant with her ex's kid and just. being fine with that? big deal to me

[angelxd-3303]

Could we get more of Rosalina in your Au? I find her backstory REALLY friggin intresting

How do you draw babies, lol??

[wangxianficrecs]

Ebb and Flow by trulywicked

Ebb and Flow

by trulywicked (@trulywicked)

M, 10k, Wangxian

Summary: Wei Wuxian has not been having an easy time of it since his mate left to reclaim his home and now he's beginning to wonder if the promise to return had all the substance of seafoam. Kay's comments: Mermay is once again gifting us the best of the best merxian and merji stories and I'm enjoying the hell out of it! Poor Wei Wuxian is really going through it in this story. Got knocked up by Lan Wangji who had to leave soon afterwards to fight against the Wens and ended up kicked out by the Jiangs. The angst is strong in this one, but luckily, Wei Wuxian also gets pampered a lot to make up for it. Also really loved the intersex mer biology in this one! Excerpt: Wei Wuxian felt his pup squirming in his belly and curled up tighter. He'd been unable to make a nesting chamber. Not enough solid coral to manage. How was he going to give birth? How could he protect his pup once he birthed them if he couldn't even protect himself before the birth? He hated this. Hated being vulnerable and afraid, hated not knowing what to do, hated being alone. He should have gone with Lan Zhan. Even without a secure territory he'd have had a pod. Would have had others to help protect him and the pup. Unless...unless Lan Zhan had lied. What if Lan Zhan hadn't really wanted a mate and a pup? Or not wanted him as a mate and mother of his pups. What if Lan Zhan had just wanted sex and nothing more? What if he'd lied so he didn't have to deal with a strange, clingy mer making stupid demands of him? It made sense to Wei Wuxian's pregnancy and stress addled brain.

pov wei wuxian, pov lan wangji, merpeople, merperson wei wuxian, merperson lan wangji, mpreg, jiang family bashing, wei wuxian needs a hug, pregnancy, emotional hurt/comfort, angst and hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, reunions, pregnant wei wuxian, good uncle lan qiren, good sibling lan xichen

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[ladynoirfanao3]

Summary:

When Marinette discovers she is pregnant, she is distressed to realize any of the three men she slept with in the recent past could be the father; Chat Noir, Ladybug’s partner and ex with whom she had gone through a tearful breakup - the mysterious Cat Walker, Ladybug’s rebound - or Adrien Agreste, Marinette’s current boyfriend.

Who indeed could it be?

Fic is rated M, and will have three chapters!

Thanks to those of you who asked about my Cat Walker WIP, cause you all encouraged me to finally finish it! @hamsteriffic @r8cs @fandomofone @kuromori4 @galaxynival @chai-ki @unstoppablelover1995

[zerojay]

smoking kills 😢💔

[alwaysmicado]

Next Month

1.5k / Steven Grant x f!reader / 18+

Summary: Your period arrives—a painful reminder of another lost month, another lost chance after trying so hard. Thankfully, you find strength and comfort in your loving husband, Steven. Warnings: period after ttc, emotional hurt/comfort A/N: I wrote this at 4 am after my cramps woke me up. Trying to conceive is hard. My heart goes out to all of you who are going through this too. It'll all work out somehow. It just has to. 🤍

The day had started out like any other—with a hint of hope, one that you’d barely dared to grasp, that maybe, just maybe, this time things would be different.

But as you sat on the toilet that morning, staring at the too-familiar streak of red, the hope slipped away from your grasp, and the weight of disappointment settled on your chest like a stone.

Another month. Another failed attempt.

You’d been trying with Steven for what felt like forever, and each time your period arrived, it felt like a cruel reminder that something was broken. Maybe in you. Maybe in fate. It gnawed at your heart, an overwhelming ache that mirrored the physical pain already coursing through your body.

The cramps were relentless today, twisting in your abdomen, spreading to your legs, to your back, as if punishing you for even thinking that this month might be different. You clutched the counter, willing the pain to subside, but it lingered. Sharp, biting.

The blood, the cramps, the emotional toll—it was all too much. And yet, somehow, you had to go to work, put on a professional face, smile, and be polite, even though every part of you wanted to scream and break down.

The hours dragged by in a haze of discomfort and forced pleasantries, you felt nauseous, no change of position in your chair offered any relief, every trip to the bathroom caused you to tear up, and Steven’s sweet text messages pierced your heart. 

By the time you got home, your nerves were raw, your body and mind too exhausted to keep up the pretense any longer. Your muscles ached, your heart heavier than it had ever been, and a pit of dread sat deep in your stomach. You’d thought about calling Steven, but what would you say? “It didn’t happen again.” It wasn’t fair to keep burdening him with your fears.

He was so hopeful, so full of love.

But as you stood in front of the stove, stirring a pot you weren’t even sure you had the energy to eat from, something in you broke. The spoon clattered against the side of the pot, your hands trembling, and suddenly, hot tears streamed down your face.

The sobs came out of nowhere, jagged and painful, and you leaned forward, bracing yourself against the counter, shaking with the force of your grief.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

The hope, the crushing disappointment, the anger, the heartache—it was demoralizing. Why couldn’t your body do what it was supposed to? Why? Why couldn’t you give Steven the one thing you both wanted so desperately? 

You didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t hear the soft sound of Steven’s keys dropping into the dish by the door. You were too lost in your sorrow, the ache that felt like it was swallowing you whole.

“Love,” Steven’s voice, gentle and concerned, cut through the storm of your sobs. His hand was warm on your back, but you flinched, too raw to be touched just yet. “Oh, love, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t ask if it was your period. He didn’t need to. You’d gone through this cycle enough times together for him to know. He moved around you, his face soft with concern, his dark eyes wide and gentle as he stepped closer.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand, but more kept falling. “I’m so sorry, Steven. I’m–” You couldn’t even finish the sentence. The words lodged in your throat, thick and bitter.

Steven was there before you could crumble any further, his arms wrapping around you with a gentleness that felt like safety, like home. He didn’t squeeze too tightly, knowing how fragile you felt, but he held you close enough to ground you, to remind you that you weren’t alone.

“Hey, hey, shh,” he whispered, his voice a soft balm against the wound in your heart. His words were warm, like the honey you often stirred into tea, the kind that coats your soul when you need it most. “You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart. Not to me. Never for this.”

But you felt like you had to.

The weight of every missed chance, every negative test, hung heavy around your entire being, and in this moment, it seemed unbearable. The tears kept coming, no matter how much you tried to stop them, and you buried your face in his chest, your shoulders shaking as you let it all out.

Every negative test, every pregnancy announcement from friends, every piece of baby clothing you’d already picked out, every article you’d read about fertility, every night you’d cried yourself to sleep—every piece of heartbreak you’d been holding inside—it all came pouring out in his arms.

Steven held you, his hands moving in slow circles on your back, wishing he could soak up your pain, wishing he could carry more of the burden for you. “It’ll be alright,” he murmured. “It will, love. I know it’s hard, and I know it hurts. I’m sad, too, but we’ll get through this. Together. We always do.”

His words were soft, tender, and you could feel the love in every syllable. He wasn’t frustrated or disappointed, not in you. That much was clear. He wasn’t angry that things hadn’t worked out again. He was here, holding you through the storm like he always did, trying his best to calm your racing thoughts.

“But what if…what if we can’t?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled back just enough to look at him through wet lashes. “What if something’s wrong with me, Steven? What if it never happens? Time is ticking and I—what if I can’t have a baby? It’s not fair and I’m so sick of this. What is wrong with me?”

His brow furrowed, his hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away your tears. “There is nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly, his voice so full of certainty that it made you ache. “Nothing. And even if—if—it doesn’t happen the way we want, we’ll still have each other, yeah? We’ll find our way. I promise. I married you because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You. Not the possibility of a baby. You.”

You shook your head, tears pooling in your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. “But I want to have a baby with you,” you whispered. “I want a little toddler running around, with your smile and curious eyes, telling me stories about Egypt before they can even pronounce the words. I want a child who grows into someone who makes the world a better place just by existing in it, just like you do. The world needs more of you, Steven, and I—I want that for us. A child to love. A family.”

“Sweetie, I want all that too.” Steven’s gaze softened, his eyes full of unshakable love. “Whenever I imagine it, I see a bright little girl with a big smile and beautiful eyes just like yours, tugging on my sleeve and asking a million questions about everything. I’m sure my heart would explode from cuteness. And there’s nothing I’d love more than to see you being the incredible mum I know you’ll be.”

His hands cradled your face as he spoke, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “But that doesn’t mean I’m missing something now. You already give me everything I could ever need. Every day.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “I know it’ll all work out somehow. And until then we just keep trying and being happy that we have each other, yeah? All I care about is you, love. I’m with you, no matter what. Always.”

His words sank deep into your chest, and though the pain didn’t vanish, the edge of it softened just a little. You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a blanket.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, the words barely making it past the lump in your throat.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, his lips brushing softly against your ear in a kiss so gentle it sent a shiver through you, making your heart ache in the sweetest way. “It’ll be okay. I can feel it. Next month—next month will be our time.”

A small, hopeful smile tugged at your lips as you looked at him, your eyes meeting his. Despite everything, his optimism was contagious, and for a moment, the weight on your shoulders felt lighter.

You smiled at him, and in his eyes, you saw a glimmer of the future you both so desperately wanted.

-----

Moon Knight Masterlist

[sittinginsunflowers]

okay, I’m going full red string over the last episode. mainly because if queen amangeaux (put some goddamn respect on her name) had a child with her husband, wouldn’t that have solved all her problems? Sure, it would make her a target but the bishop was already warning her to lay low at the festival, and at least this would’ve secured her place on the throne until her child came of age. Unless she knew she was pregnant and then she decided not to say anything in trying to follow the bishop’s advice? Or she didn’t know at the time and then everything popped off. But that makes the baby at least a year and 3/4 months (if we use human pregnancy as the timeline??) and the baby read more as a newborn to me? Also in the adventuring party when they discussed the bishop’s secret, Anjali pointed out that he could’ve been poisoning her or her husband with the tea leaves to stop her from producing an heir. which could be a red herring, or could mean that the baby belongs to someone other than her husband, hence why she’s hidden him away. which would make sense since the coloring is a little different. So either the baby isn’t hers biologically and is just in her care, she had an affair while her husband was still alive, the baby is the true heir, or she got pregnant in the two year time jump.

how the fuck am I losing my mind over a mango’s sex life how did I get here

[animentality]

I know it's a fact of life and all, but it does give me the heebie jeebies, knowing there's someone out there whose job is to masturbate male pigs so they can ship off semen to artificially inseminate sows.

Like I get it... it's just...like...business, circle of life, this is how the meat industry is efficient in how it breeds livestock, but...

I'm trying to imagine someone whose job it is to masturbate a caged pig, and it's like...

Hm.

I hope they pay them...something good.

Also I wonder if like...female pigs ever feel super weird about being artificially inseminated.

Like they know it's not natural.

I assume.

And then I think, well, what about the male pigs?

They probably know it's not natural either, being jerked off in a cage by some human.

What is going through their heads during all this...

[mothshrooms-7]

i need jack manhattan pregnant NOW