#pregnancy month by month

[lazylittledragon]

mombin™ has me in a CHOKEHOLD right now

[katieo1022]

[blondwhxrewrites]

Mattheo will never understand how he managed to secure the most beautiful woman in the world—you. Now, if only he could persuade you that having a baby with him wouldn't be chaotic.

"We are too young to have a child, Matty!!" You groaned, hiding beneath the covers of your bed to get away from your insistent husband. "We barely just graduated, and we aren't even married!" 

Mattheo rolled his eyes and grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it off of you. "Okay- but just imagine a little baby running around that looks like us, wouldn't that be nice?"

"it would be nice...ten years in the future!'

He gasped, grasping at his heart in a dramatic display that made you roll your eyes. "I am not waiting that long to knock you up!" He huffed out. 

"I thought you didn't want to be a father with all of your daddy issues?"

"aaand that was before- now I want a minimum of two children and a dog."

"You're ridiculous."

[quietwingsinthesky]

im just saying that if i had been in charge of s6 of doctor who, i would have fully leaned into the horror of amy's pregnancy, the loss of her own agency in it, the way she was used as a vessel to create a child she would never hold again, amy pond who never indicated once that she even wanted a child and was made to have one anyway against her will, and once they were done using her, they even took away any choice she might make about it in the future.

and i would have had this be a factor in amy and river's relationship going forward. how do you interact with a child you never knew, never got to decide if you wanted to have, and she's also already your friend, you love her as this miraculous, insane woman who has saved your life more than once. she's always known more about you than you could about her, but now you know exactly how much she was keeping from you. it's not like she could have told you, could have stopped it, but all this time, she was your friend and she was your daughter, and how do you learn to live with her?

[thebibliosphere]

I’m assuming my period skipped this month because two medical emergencies that put your body into crisis will do that to you but damned if the Christian trauma of the virgin birth doesn’t linger in the back of my head going “but what if…”

[moondirti]

johnny wears his sense of duty like a gold-gleaming badge of honour. and if you were to ask any one of his doting relatives, they'd tell you that indeed, he's a stand-up lad. the best our clan’s got tae offer.

johnny hones his sense of duty like a sword of high-carbon steel. his brothers in arms each have a story to credit their continued survival to him. carried me out the crash site while under heavy fire. anyone else would have left me for dead.

johnny wields his sense of duty like a heat-resistant kevlar shield. that is to say, do enough good for God and He will align your interests.

the train is empty and the hour is late. any partner worth their salt would not let you be here alone under these conditions – in your condition. he thinks it says something about your lack of one. or he's just hoping; just testing the line that marks how far he's willing to go.

he's antsy in his seat across the car. his right leg jumping, and not for their jostling along the tracks. a weight like a stone grows heavy in his crotch. he itches to adjust it, to pull his cock up under his waistband. but he's also staring, has been staring, and while he doesn't think you've noticed yet, you definitely will when the strange man donning fatigues sticks his hands down his pants.

there's a level he knows not to reach for while this exposed. johnny would rather keep his reputation shiny in the eye of the public. likes the praise too much to consider damaging it, like a dog stowing his messes under the couch.

so he sits, twitching but patient. a good old boy. sniffs. rests his elbows on his knees and squeezes his legs together to slyly grind into himself. he imagines what you must smell like between those soft legs of yours, imagines rubbing his face against the gusset of your underwear to soak himself in the scent. he's no stranger to pussy, he wonders if it tastes any different. his stare flattens over your calves. he tries to gather some phantom estimate in the salivate coating his tongue.

he thumbs the latin cross pendant he wears around his neck. God answers with a particular rough shake of the train car.

having already been fixated on your bottom half, he's one of the first to notice. second to only you, of course. a surge of water gushes out between your legs, splattering across the floor to become a puddle underneath your feet. your darling little face drops, eyes blowing comically wide as your hand slaps over your mouth in disbelief. the man standing next to you stumbles away, lifting his shoes to check for any damage. an old lady tuts.

and then, silence. no one does anything but stare.

johnny jumps from his seat, jogging to hover over you.

"ye awright, hen? aww, aw, c'mon. it's okay, y'wee thing. shhhh," he helps you up out of your seat, smoothing one hand down your back and the other over your heavy belly. one look at his clothing, at the MTP print that could only mean one thing, and you're leaning your full weight into him, blinking back a barrage of tears.

"s-sor– i'm so sorry. i– i think... think that was– my water broke." you sniff, tucking your face into his side to hide from the useless muppets surrounding you. he feels a swell of pride stretching the walls of his chest. his cock hasn't stopped throbbing despite the commotion.

"naebody faults ye for it. a’natural. a blessin', aye?" he says, not before clearing his throat of the lust he's sure coats it. "have ye got a birth plan? any hospital ye've made preparations wi'?"

"n-no." you shake your head. your voice is muffled between his layers of clothing, and he notices the gooseflesh of your skin just then. he's slipping his coat off within seconds, draping it over your shoulders, then combs the sweaty baby hairs off your temple. his fingers look rough, too big, against the dewy stretch of your forehead.

"there’s one near the next station. we’ll get aff there. ah’ll stick wi' ye, bonnie. ye dinnae have tae worry aboot a thing but yersel'."

and you nod, because of course you do. he's got commitment practically tattooed right there on his arm, alongside the SAS emblem and the cursive 141 gaz made him get on a dare. and johnny peddles that sense of duty like the psyops they've been taught to watch out for — to cover up the fact that it's a commitment to the wrong thing.

(he'll stick with you, alright.)

[dykedvonte]

I think it says something that Jimmy absolutely destroyed the crew and ship in half the time Curly was captain. Like he couldn’t even get them past 2 full months before breaking down.

Like he really couldn’t be half the man he thought Curly was.

[naamahdarling]

You know what? You know what I think?

I think that if we lived as we were meant to, in larger intimate ("extended family") groups and with more shared labor and time to do it (UBI NOW) people like me would not feel so useless and burdensome because there would be people around to help and to do what neurodivergent people can't while making valuable space for the neurodivergent to do what they ARE good at.

The way we live right now, all right, the way we live right now forces units of two adults to be able to do EVERYTHING or PAY to have someone come do it for them. I have to do the housework. I have to do it! But I am having to do a million different things and most of them I am not good at. I suck at them.

I wouldn't feel like shit, okay, if I had more than one other person around who was not a child and who could do the things I can't, like do the yard and cook and do repairs and basic maintenance; and someone else to split everything else that I like but is too much for me. It would free me to do what I am good at and enjoy. Cleaning, as in the sink and toilet, the windows, the blinds. Taking out trash. Folding, hanging, and sorting laundry.

But because all the shit I can do often relies on other shit being done first, and I can't do or have trouble doing those things, the shit I can do often can't be done. And even the shit I can do, I can't do ALL of it. So I can't keep up, and things get very bad.

We aren't meant to live like this. We are not meant to live like this.

That thought hurts so much because being able to flee the birth family is integral to survival for so many people. I'm so afraid that living in larger family groups would create more opportunities for, say, queer kids to be isolated, rejected, bullied, and abused. But if we gave people enough money to survive, and stopped considering children the property of their parents with no system in place to help them escape bad situations except a system that is often just as bad, just different.

I'm aware that communes and collectives aren't all that successful and are kind of a joke. I don't mean that. I mean a fundamental shift to multigenerational families where taking in "strays" (which my family did) is also normalized so people escaping abuse into existing households was accepted, with these families centered in maybe a couple of different larger residences so not everyone has to buy and maintain their own fucking washing machine and vacuum cleaner, and so people can benefit from large group meals that yield leftovers, and so child and elder care can also be centralized.

Then disabled people and the neurodivergent and sick and injured people, and pregnant people, and grieving people, would not have to either labor through all those stressors or consign themselves to living off an unlivable pittance or being put under legal guardianship.

I'm not saying anything new. People live like this in other parts of the world and maybe it sucks and I am wrong. But I'm just really mad right now because I can either do laundry or clean the sink but not both, and I really think we could improve society somewhat by making it so I did not have to choose one without sacrificing the other.

[retourpresdetoi]

hey mouthwashing analysts, do we maybe want to think a bit before comparing a full grown man, who is just heavily disabled, to a baby? like a literal infant? especially when there's a stronger metaphorical/psychological/symbolic avatar for the baby and pregnancy already present within the narrative? (multiple even!)

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

ovulation being a hell of a drug that ends up getting steddie together like

eddie and queen bee stevie harrington who have a weird kind of friendship where they share like. Everything. not a single secret between them. like eddie's got stevie's cycle pretty much memorised and she knows about every inappropriately timed boner he's ever had. and they're talking one day, smoking, shooting the shit, and there's a second of silence before stevie's like. oh my god. im so horny im gonna die. and eddie's like huh what. and stevie goes like there's a stain on your wall that's kind of shaped like a sperm and that made me think about cum and now im all bricked up. my vaginas haunted. fucking sperm shaped stain.

and eddie's like. wait girls- ok you know what im saying this in my head and im realising this sounds dumb but like. i thought girls didn't like. Get Like That. like i thought random horniness at a stiff breeze was a guy thing

and stevie snorts like nope girls get it too we just get to hide it bc we don't get boners. swear to god there's like a week of every month where i get fucking possessed or some shit. robin says it's like a period thing

but you're not on your period?

and stevie's like no it's like. the opposite of a period. like your period is your uterus being like hey you fucked up you're not pregnant but Horny Week is your uterus being like okay im ready let's get a baby in there time to get pregnant you know what to do. it's called like. oval. something. oval something. im all fertile and my body's trying to trick me, the fuckn prick.

and eddie just kinda goes huh and then there's another second of silence where he tries very hard not to think about stevie being pregnant. and then stevie throws her arms up with a frustrated sigh like god DAMN it now im thinking about being pregnant and eddie's internally like well at least it's not just me

and anyway another joint later this obviously devolves into stevie shoving eddie's hand down her pants and telling him please it'll be so quick he doesn't even have to do anything and she just ruts against his hand while he stares at her bc he's so high and the girl he's basically in love with just told him how fertile she was and then started rubbing her incredibly wet pussy against his hand and he feels like he might pass out

they do this and more about once a month for like a year until stevie does actually get pregnant. her stupid uterus successfully tricked her 😔✊

[katieo1022]

🍭

[tangledinink]

Did leo deal with his pregnancy differently or was it the same as donnie?

Leo's pregnancy was very different from Donnie's! For him, quite frankly, the pregnancy was the easy part.

the really hard part came after.

[ ✩ the gemini ✩ ]

[mushroomnoodles]

tw/cw for sfw and non kink mpreg

over a whole year of studying and he still has nothin

hes nawt overdue btw gestation period just takes longer for vamps

[theloveinc]

kirishima x reader - kiri really, really, REALLY wants a third child.

(warnings: afab + fem reader who is a mom with two bio babies, breeding, slight sense of dubcon but it really is con, slight voyeurism, heavy on the pregnancy, mention of sick baby + baby coming early (all is well tho), son = mister, daughter = missy, abrupt end)

1.5k+ words. enjoy!!

-

The conversation comes up on a sunny day in Denki’s backyard. His wife and their newest daughter in her lap sunbathing next to you, the baby reaching out for your sleeve every so often as the three of you watch Denki, Kiri and the older children—save for the oldest who claims she’s too big for such things—play in the sprinklers, screaming. 

“Have you thought about a third?” Denki’s wife asks, tipping down her sunglasses to send you an inquisitive stare.

“Oh, god, no. Ei and I are done.” 

“Really?” she seems surprised. “He’s such a good father, you’d think…”

You shrug, taking a sip of the mango slush that was provided to you when you first arrived. “We were considering it, but mister came so early that the stress of another seemed too much.”

“Ah, I know how that goes all too well. Has Kiri gotten, you know…?” She makes a snipping motion with her fingers.

You snort, the thought almost as implausible as Denki with a son. Doctors have recommended that most heroes remain unaltered, at least to reduce the chances of hormone levels fluctuating unexpectedly and causing changes in prowess… and though that didn’t stop Bakugo five years ago and nothing’s changed about his aggression or fighting style, your husband still uses the warning as an excuse to stay hesitant. 

“Oh, hell no. Have you tried talking to him about it? He goes nuts, and the man is stubborn as a bull.” 

“Are you guys using condoms, then?”

At that, you can’t help but laugh. Protected sex after what? Nearly ten years of marriage? Kirishima was far from the type even when you first met, if you tried bringing up latex contraception now, he’d practically consider it offensive, or a threat to his masculinity at the very least. 

“Pills for now. Surprisingly the side effects have been manageable.” 

“Aren’t you worried those might fail?” 

Her persistent concern touches you, and how could it not when she and her husband have to wrangle five, blonde, Kaminari daughters from sunset to sundown on the daily… but it’s nothing you don’t think you and Ei couldn’t navigate together if need be. 

The youngest starts squirming for you and you offer to take her in your arms, trading your slush to plop her on the warmth of your lap which immediately ceases her cooing. 

“Well,” you tickle her baby plump belly, the delighted squeal you get in response making you grin, “I guess an accident wouldn’t be so bad if they turned out like this one.” 

-

Little did you know, Kirishima overheard your little, half-joking declaration. It’s a wonder, given that you’d assumed if the water hadn’t drowned out your voices, the seven screaming children (and Denki) would’ve.

But he catches you the next morning, fresh out of the shower as you stand in the bathroom prepping your skin for the rest of the day.

“I heard,” he leans in behind you, his damp and loose hair reflected in the mirror, “you said you wanted another baby?”

You chuckle, the steamy warmth of his belly pressing into your back almost overwhelming, “I said, accidents happen, my love. I’m perfectly content with the three babies I have now.” 

Kirishima pouts, the hands on your hips tightening as they slowly turn you around to face him. 

“What if we…?” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

“Haven’t we talked about this?” you yawn, picking a stray piece of thread off of the damp towel hanging around his shoulders, your other hand running down his bare chest. “I thought we agreed two was enough?” 

“I was just thinking, you know, it doesn’t sound so bad now that mister is older and all.”

You wave him off, nudging your way out from between the sink counter and his hips before pressing one quick peck to his cheek. 

“Shoo. You’re going to be late for work,” Kirishima doesn’t let you go so easily, his hands lingering and only falling when you’re finally out of reach. “There’s a lunch in the fridge. Don’t get hung up on it, yeah?”

-

But Kirishima is hung up on it.

He loves being a dad more than anything, feels as though it's one of the many reasons he was placed on this earth, and though he loves you now more than any other time in his life and would love you no matter what happened to your body, he can’t say he wasn’t extremely delighted when you were pregnant... nor that he doesn’t want to see another rounded belly on you again.

Besides, your daughter was so curious about it, so precious and clingy, but she was almost too little to understand what was happening in your belly when you were swollen with your son… that Kirishima really only has a handful of memories of you all together before one baby became two and two babies became children.

And when he spent their babyhood was spent half in a hospital and half with you out of commission, he just can't help but imagine that doing it over with a third would make his whole life complete.

It just makes perfect sense. 

-

It’s couple’s hot yoga the next time it gets brought up, Kirishima helping you hold the warm-up stretches as he ponders the questions out loud.

“Have you thought about it at all?” He whispers, hands pulling your thigh away from your face and into a stretch meant to straighten your hamstrings. 

“Thought about what?”

“Baby number three,” he lowers your leg and helps switch you to the other side. 

You laugh, disturbing the calm of the heated studio, apologizing to the other couples there softly after. “You seem pretty committed.”

Kirishima nods like a desperate puppy, knowing how he must look in his loose tank top and sweatband, his hair pushed back from his forehead revealing a flush that isn’t yet due to the steam in the room. 

“What’s so good about a third, anyway?” you as say as he repositions your leg from straight to bent at the instructors command. “You know how sick mister was. I can’t go through that again.”

“What if you didn’t have to?

You glare, straining your neck to make sure Kiri can get a peak at your angry eyes. “You say that like you know what would happen.”

"I just…” he shrugs, thumb rubbing your ankle. “We missed missy’s toddler years taking care of mister, and by the time he was walking, missy was using full on sentences and demanded that we start treating her like an adult.” 

The instructor commands you turn on your side and begin the same stretches that way. 

“You were also still recovering from the pregnancy, I had to go back to work… and I want to do it again but with just one this time. Savor the baby years the way we should’ve savored theirs.” 

Kirishima lets his palm brush the intersection between your thighs as he keeps your let from falling. Damp and warm with sweat, he can’t help but press his fingers into where your loins hide under your leggings and—

You stick your foot in his face, the other couples amongst the room already shifting. “Up. It’s your turn for stretches.”

-

“Shit.” 

“Ooh, mommy cussed!”

“You didn’t hear that, baby. I’m just—“ you squint at the notification on your device.

“What?” Kirishima asks, holding your daughter in his arms. The tops of her feet are pressing into his belly while they pass a large slice of dripping, red watermelon back and forth. Your son is preoccupied at the coloring table set up in the living room, drawing pictures of semi-naked heroes with enormous hairdos. 

“Pharmacy’s out of my birth control. Won’t be in for a few weeks.”

You don’t miss the way Kiri’s eyebrows immediately raise, though you glance back down at your phone to panic-click more buttons in the hopes that he gets the hint. 

“What’s that mean, babe?” he asks, feigning innocence about a subject you very well know he’s versed in. 

“What do you mean, what’s that mean?” 

“I mean, what are we gonna do about that? You know—“

You groan. 

“Hush. We’re just gonna pretend I didn’t say that and move on,” you turn on your feet to rush out of the room, calling over your shoulder. “And share the watermelon with mister. I’m calling the doctor.” 

“Ooh,” your daughter says again, her sticky hands going to Kiri’s cheeks which are pinched in a funny expression she doesn’t clock, “Daddy’s in trouble!” 

-

But honestly, Kirishima can’t pretend he hadn’t heard what you said… and truly doesn’t know what you were thinking when you suggested that he try. Birth control aside, on it or off it, you were bound to have sex eventually… that was never even the issue. 

Though when you bring up condoms to the whiney redhead barely a few days later, he barely manages to open one before accidentally flinging it across the room in trying to see how well it stretches. 

“I can’t do this,” Kirishima frowns, sitting back down on the bed after pulling his briefs back on to throw away the slimy piece of latex. He curls an arm back around you to pull you in between his legs, hands moving to grip your waist while he admires the cute black, mom panties you’re wearing that sit over the handles of your hips. “I don’t wanna wear a condom.”  

You sigh, your own hands scratching the tops of his shoulders. “You’re not planning on pulling out, either. Are you?”

“No,” he doesn’t even say it shamefully, “I’m not planning on pulling out.” 

“And you’re gonna hope that it sticks?” 

“Yes,” his eyelids flutter looking up at you. You’re so cute frowning like you’re not gonna let him have his way and then pretend it’s all his fault. An accident. “I’m gonna hope it gets you pregnant.” 

That makes you roll your eyes, though it also has you squeezing your legs together. 

“You’re such a dog.”

Kirishima nods, but you don’t stop him from slowing pulling your panties down. 

“Only for you.”

[here-comes-the-moose]

I feel like if Phee was pregnant, she and Tech would act like how my parents acted during each of my mom’s pregnancies.

Phee would just be chilling, doing her own thing and going on as usual pretty much up until it’s time to have the baby (and gets annoyed if she’s told to slow down or take a break), and basically making the whole thing look effortless. Then you have Tech freaking out any time he has to go somewhere for longer than an average workday, constantly asking if she’s comfortable, nearly having a heart attack when he sees her doing things around the house, and tripping over himself to get whatever food she might be craving.

[dykedvonte]

The second fic idea is a what-if scenerio where Jimmy dies in the crash due to and altercation with Curly and how Curly would navigate being Captain once he has to notice the little things and how he and Anya's relationship develop as he adopts an identical view point to hers rather than just keeping the peace.

And maybe i will write it but only time will tell tbh but it's stuck in my brain dome for the time being.