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someone should like totally write a fic where Jj gets fem!reader pregnant and they’re like scared but then she has the baby and like continue the fic throughout the obx series w the kid maybe🤭 pls and thank u someone
Sapnap x pregnant reader
You and Sapnap were a thing for a little bit nothing official and nothing public. But with things like that is was impossible for one person not to catch feelings and guess who caught feelings you did but you were a little to late to confess it to him and a year later he announced his proposal and soon to be partners to the world, you could even describe how you felt. Sick, sad but couldn’t feel betrayed. You guys were never a thing so you decided since he was completely invested in his partners that you should just leave or your feelings would ruin everything, but months after you completely disappeared your sitting in a doctors room with paper saying your four months pregnant and you knew exactly who the father was, you cried for days not knowing what to do, with your new home you didn’t know a lot of people. Months passes and your walking through the town cupping your swollen belly as you turn to the corner you bump into someone and catch yourself before you fall rubbing ur head “ hey I’m sorry I wasn’t” before you finish your sentence you make eye contact with the very man you were trying to avoid all together, he looks at you then you belly. Out of panic you turn away then hear foot steps as you get down the trail. “ Y/N “ you hear ur name and try ur hardest to just ignore him, you cup ur swollen belly and feel ur feet starting to swell, he runs In front of you making you stop dropping ur head “ Sapnap please just go please “ you try and walk around him but he blocked you, you step back stepping on ur dress and start to loose ur balance, he moves forward catch you picking you up “ y/n please “ you sigh starting to feel overwhelmed “ fine,fine “ you lead him to ur house, he walks in sitting you down and rests on his knees looking at your stomach “ is it mine “ you bite ur lip nodding and don’t look at him, he gently moves his hand over ur stomach the baby moves and you suck in air and look at him, he’s smiling big at your swollen stomach. He look up then his smile fades “ why didn’t you tell me y/n “ you felt tears fill ur eyes “ we weren’t a thing and you proposed so I thought it be better to stay quiet and move away, it didn’t feel right to come out of no where claiming to have your baby ” tear run down your face “ I didn’t want to ruin your relationship “ I look away “ where’s your partners “ he looks down “ a war broke out their both out of it. I don’t think they feel the same anymore” he looks up into my eyes “ doesn’t matter what I do, it’s still my baby y/n. You still could of told me” I cry lightly and hum “ it’s not that simple” he tilts his head “ what do you mean y/n “ you wipe your cheek “ I love you, I’ve loved you since the beginning and I wanted to tell you but you went and proposed even tho you still came back to me “ you couldn’t tell if it was from the hormones or from the fact that you are realizing what he did was wrong but you got angry pushing him away from you, he looks up shocked “ did you not feel anything or was I just that to you” he looks up “ I don’t know y/n “ you get up and he grabs your arm “ don’t give me that, the nights we spent together and you felt nothing just leave “ tears run down your face “ please y/n please let me make it all up to you, I’m sorry” you look at him and hum “no,no,NO. I’m pregnant with your baby and all you say is I don’t know seriously, I was a fool once I will” he hugs you and rubs your back “ I know y/n, I know what I did was disgusting and wrong. I’m sorry I put you through all this “ he look into your eyes and cupping your cheeks “ I’ll do anything y/n,you know me better then anybody, please let me make this up to you” you cry and hum “ I dont know” he falls to his knees gently touching your swollen womb “if not just please let me be apart of the babies life please” you sigh sitting down “o…o..only one chance mess it up, I never want to see you again “ he smiles big and hugs you “ thank you thank you”. After that day sapnap wanted to prove he wanted you back and was fully invested, he come early in the morning and do extra stuff to help you, you liked
the fact he didn’t hover over you. He brought you flowers and food and different gifts, he was completely invested and didn’t care what it took. One night you lay in bed but hear a knock getting up waddling to the door “ who is it “ I peek the door seeing sapnap “ can I come in “ I open the door “ you okay “ he nods and looks at you “ I couldn’t sleep, I was worried about you “ I raise an eyebrow smiling “worried?, why” he hums “ I mean who wouldn’t be your pregnant home alone and in the woods if that doesn’t worry anybody then their crazy” he Looks up seeing you cup your belly and sits down “ can I please touch you please “ you hum nodding, he moves forward gently moving his hand over your womb letting a small smile rest on his face and rests his cheek on your knee “ have you thought of names “ you smile shaking your head “ have you” he nods and smiles “ yes but is a girl or boy “ you hum “ I wanted to wait till the birth” he smiles “ then I’ll tell you then”.
Could I request a Wilbur x pregnant reader!!! Please????
War isn’t forgiving but I am
During the war you tried day and night to get him to stop just leave it all alone. You understood that what was happening was wrong but you were months into pregnancy and refused to get involved with the baby on the way but he refused to stop fighting so the baby could live in the country he built but in the end, he was arrested and put into prison along with dream, lmanburg was destroyed. Everyone went their own ways. You cried for days during the trials. He sat in the wooden chair with his head low, his red beanie dirty and dusty. You couldn’t look at him it all hurt so much and caused to much stress so for the last days of trial, you just didn’t come. You went to his father Philza, he welcomed you with open arms and helped any way he could, tommy and tubbo both went to the prison multiple times to see him and they told you he constantly begged for your forgiveness,he wrote tons of letters that you couldn’t bring yourself to read. You didn’t hate your husband, you loved him more then anything but with what happened, many many people were looking to kill you and the baby, which tommy told Wilbur which made your husband became extremely angry and refused to see anybody until you came, he lashed out on everyone and hurt other ppl in the prison even sam was hurt during it all. You thought you could just hold out till the baby birth but sam came begging for you to visit him, he stopped eating and refused to go outside when there was free time, he was writing and writing. Sam looks to you “y/n please forgive me but you need to see him, I understand your with child but he’s going insane, we fear for our safety now and for his own” you sigh gently moving your hand over your now eight month belly “ I’ll…I’ll come tomorrow “ he gives you a nod, the whole night you tossed and turned thinking of everything that could happen. You feared he hurt you and the baby but you had to remind yourself he wanted a child ever since the wedding and before, he would never hurt you….you hoped. The next morning you leave with Philza going through the security and everything. Sam was fast about it. You walk through the hall to the door, Sam unlocked it and you look in seeing your husband on the bed, his beanie nowhere to be found and his glasses were dirty and he looked extremely skinny, Sam put a chair by the door “ call if you need help “ Wilbur fingers moved “ if it’s someone other then y/n,I will kill them “ you shivered feeling the darkness in his voice, you were nervous but spoke “ that’s not very nice beloved” you never seem him move so fast in his life, he shot up falling back as tears ran down his eyes, he came closer but slowly “ please be real, please tell me this isn’t a dream please, I’m begging you” he back up yelling “ SAM SAM” you get up touching him, his eyes widen “ your warm, omg your warm” he hugs you tightly “ your real your real” you hug him back “ I am, I am” he sobs holding you close and drops to his knees with his head down and cries “ forgive me y/n, forgive me please I love you. Please don’t hate me everyone else does, don’t hate me please” your heart breaks as you rub his back lightly “ please stand love, please. I don’t hate you” you sit back down as he looks up from your lap “ then why didn’t you come sooner y/n, how many months along are you “ you felt shame and felt lost, he comes closer and you see the scars on his face, his eye is sunken from the beatings, he looked broken “ eight months,I..I..I don’t know why my love, I was scared” he stepped back and you grab his wrist “ not of you no oo my not of you “ you see his shoulders relax “ after the trials I got threats love, they threatened the baby’s life, I had to go further away” you saw his face drop and his eyes looked blank, he gets closer holding your hand “ I’m….I’m sorry y/n, I should of just stopped now your so far along, I won’t even be able to see the birth of my first child” you knew this all broke him, you rub his shoulder and cup his cheek “ maybe you won’t have too” he looks up fixing his glasses “ what do you mean beloved” you hum.
“maybe Sam will let me have the baby here, if your behavior improves” he smiles for the first time since you’ve arrived “ I will do anything anything to see my child’s birth” you smile “ I’ll speak with Sam” he gets closer “ can I kiss you” you smile nodding, he kisses you softly cupping your cheeks and smiles through the kiss “ still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen” he chuckles leaning down moving his hand gently over your swollen womb “ girl or boy “ you smile “ a little girl” his eyes light up “ really “ you smile “ would I lie “ he shakes his head “ I love you” you cup his cheek kissing him softly “ I love you too”. After two weeks of begging sam allowed you to have the baby their which everyone except Wilbur we’re completely mortified by it, Philza chocked when you told him and the boys lost it saying that they would lock you in the room until the birth but the only person who came around was Philza, he loved his son and you so he agreed to help with his granddaughters birth. That night you arrived at the prison a day before your due date you already started having contractions, Wilbur since then had cleaned up and was officially considered a normal prisoner. Six hours into the night you gave birth to a beautiful burnet baby girl, her lungs were strong and Wilbur cried the whole time while holding the infant, he thanked you and that night all three of you finally were at peace, he was at peace. He kisses your head “ goodnight my love” he brings his daughter closer smile “ you as well”.
Love will find you
The day you found out you were pregnant you panicked, you and techno never planned for a baby or even were together at the time so after a month of being sick and seeing him constantly worried you left that afternoon he went with Philza , techno came home to an empty house he next to rip the whole cabin apart, he panicked he called to Philza to help search for you for months. Techno was broken but you were broke too,you feared him rejecting the baby. You left to a village off the map unless someone made a wrong turn you wouldn’t be found. Which was perfect but here you are seven months pregnant, you had no ideas but techno left the cabin giving it to Philza saying until he finds you, he won’t return. But it didn’t take him long in two months. He was coming down the trail to the village, he walked into the village and saw you in a window to a home far from the main road and was going to go to you but stopped waiting till the night you wake up, screaming seeing a tall black figure, techno gets closer letting the moon shine on him, you gasp covering your mouth “techno”. He pulls the blanket but you grip it pulling it back trying to hide your nine month belly, he finally ripped it away and saw your belly. His heart broke millions of thoughts ran through his head, he gripped your arm “ who is it’s y/n, WHO IS ITS Y/N” you cry and look up “ it’s your techno, it’s yours. I was scared when I found out” you went on and on as he stepped back, his expression surprised but somewhat blank. It broke your heart, you tried to reach for him but he look down at you angry and gets closer “ you’re telling me, I spent months month’s thinking you were dead but no you you run away bc of the baby” he pinches his nose as he breaths heavy “ you dragged our baby MILES INTO THE WOODS” he moves forward and you step back sitting on the bed“ WHAT IF YOU GOT HURT Y/N, WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST TELL ME” you cry lightly and he groans moving forward kissing you deeply, didn’t know why you kissed back but you did. His kiss was full of desperation and fear and love, he pulled away running his hands down your back and side over your belly gently and cries lightly “ please just come home,please forgive me. I don’t understand what I did” you cut him off cupping his cheeks moving his long pink hair back behind is ear“ you did nothing,I..I..I was scared techno we didn’t plan for a baby and were not even together, I just didn’t want to get rid of the baby, I wanted to keep the baby” techno kisses you softly and runs his fingers through your hair and rubs your back gently,pulling out a ring “ I want the baby,the day you left, I was going to ask you to marry me y/n” your eyes widen you hide your face in his neck and sob wrapping your arms around his neck “ please forgive me techno” he kisses your neck and lifts your hand putting the ring on “ it that a yes” you smile lightly wiping the tears “yes..yes” he smiles “ shall we go home my love” you smile wrapping your arms around his neck, he smiles rubbing you belly “ let’s go home little one”.
Forever home hidden in the cold
You go through the snow and shiver cupping you pregnant belly and huff, you look up seeing light feeling a sense of hope. You breath heavy feeling the cold air start to Suffocate you. You feet are next to frozen, you fingers are next to broken and bleeding from the cold. You get closer and closer crying out for help then feel your vision blur as you fall.
Techno POV
I sit by the fire completely infested in the book when I hear a low cry for help confused, I set my book down grabbing my sword moving to the door, I look out the door over the crystal white snow. My eyes fall on to a figure laying in the snow. I panic calling to Philz as he comes rushing out. I rush over turning seeing the woman. I lift her up seeing her swollen belly, I waste no time bring her in and close to the fire. Philza rushes in “ what’s wrong” he says in a panic. I only point going into my chests and grabbing blankets and food. He answers with a low “oh” moving to the woman, he puts his hand on neck “ her pulse is weak, we gotta hurry”. I rush over removing her now wet coat and gently get her cloths off just focusing on her health and the babies health. Philza helps moving her to the couch and lay covers over her body. I sigh sitting down “ how could she of gotten all the way down here” Philz gently puts her hair up and shrugs looking to me “ ig we’ll have to ask when she wakes up” I only nod moving to wrap her frost bitten fingers, we gently pour potions down her throat seeing her color return made us feel a bit more relax. It’s early morning philza has left and I hear a short sob, I get up walking out. I see her up with the blanket wrapped around her and stands up. “ hey it’s okay” she turns quickly as tears run down her eyes. She steps back and grips the blanket “ w..w..who are you” I lift my hands in surrender and step closer “ my name is techno, I found you in the snow please relax, your with child and I know stress isn’t good” she looks around and cups her belly and cries lightly coming closer “ thank you,thank you” I lean down putting my hand on her bare shoulder “ would you like to eat “ she only nods as I move towards the kitchen. “ where are my clothes” I look over “ they were wet I’m sorry, I just didn’t want you to lay down wet and cold. Their on the chest over their” I glance back seeing her move towards them, I look away when the blank drops. “ can I turn around now “ a soft yes leaves her lips, I turn seeing her sit on the couch, her brows are downwards. She shifts in her seat “ are you uncomfortable “ she looks up “ yes, he keeps moving “ I smile “ it’s a boy “ she nods shyly, I hand her the food moving more pillows she sighs in relief looking up. “ my name is y/n “ I smile at her name and sit down “ how did you end up in the snow” she looks away “ I was in trouble and so I ran into the wrong portal and they broke the portal, I walked until I saw your cabin” I rub her knee “ don’t worry your safe now” she gives me a gentle smile. For the next couple days we nurse her back to health, she helps the best she can. I would prefer her to just sit down, she worries me with the child but she insists on helping.
Nobody POV
By the third week techno came up with every excuse in the book to keep you their first it was your feet aren’t healed then it was bc of the weather then last but not least, he insisted you stay until the baby is born which could be any minute. Techno wasn’t good at confession but he loved you. Everything he knew or learned he adored about you, he wanted to be the father of the unborn child way before you ever confessed that the baby father was not in the picture. He knew he would get attached but didn’t care. He go to the moon and back just for you. But nothing compares to the night he confessed to you. You followed him outside, he held your hand helping you sit by him, you smile leaning closer to him “ you said you needed to tell me something” he rubs his hands together nervously clearing his throat. You till your head looking up at the shy piglet hybrid. “ I’m not really good at this but I really like you” you go speechless and he panics “ I mean if you don’t feel the same that’s fine” he starts to ramble and you laugh pulling him down kissing his cheek gently “ I like you too” he’s eyes glow as he gently hugs you and cups your cheek kissing your forehead. Which you thought that be the only time you see them glow until you went into labor, it was late and techno refused to let you out of his sight. You were cuddled up on his chest when a sharp pain hit your lower abdomen, you groan pulling away a little, techno lifts his head “ what’s wrong beloved” you place pressure on your hips and sit up lightly, he wraps his arm around your waist “ talk to me love” you groan and lean on his chest “ I’m getting a sharp pain in my hips” he gently moves his hands over the spots then you gasp gripping his arm, as your water breaks. You panic and he kisses the side of your head rubbing your back “ stay calm remember stay calm” he does the breathing with you gently rubbing your thighs as you lay back. Sweat starts to form on your body as you feel your body telling you to push “ I need to push techno” he knew it was serious when you used his name “ only push when you get a contraction” you nod crying out pushing when you feel it, he smiles rubbing your knee. “ you got this, look at you doing so well “ you lean your head back screaming out when the baby crowns “ right their love, right their and you can meet your son” you push one last time, a low whimper is heard before a cry. Your son wiggles in technos hands crying out. Techno just looks at the infant with so much love. You laugh lightly breathing heavy and lean your head back “ he’s here beloved he’s here” techno looks up just letting tears run down his face as you start to cry too, he gently wipes the infant handing him to you. You look up seeing technos eyes glow as he watches your son move his arms and legs on your chest. “ he’s amazing “ techno comes closer and you smile “ he’s ours “ techno looks up shocked “ your serious “ you only nod and he kisses you deeply after that day you were never ever leaving.
Baby techno
(Warning: pregnancy, mention of child birth)
To say the pregnancy was planned would be a flat out lie to anybody who asked. You and techno happily married for three years and everyone knew you guys were on constant adventures and so happy together not very many asked about kids but here you are nine months along and techno piglet instincts are on lvl one-thousand. He has become extremely protective since the news and refuses to let anybody or anything near me the only person that can freely come in is Philz bc he genuinely is excited about his grandson and was planning to help with the labor and everything was planned out perfectly, the house was set up and you didn’t go very far from the house but one thing you didn’t prepare for is out of all the days techno finally lets you stay home alone bc Philz has to go deal with whatever he needs. You water breaks one hour after everyone is gone. You gasp gripping the counter and a slight panic fills you, you go to the door and scream as loud as you can “TECHNO HELP” you knew his hearing was unbeaten. That was all you could at before closing the door, a contraction goes through your body causing you to pause and lean down breathing lightly “ stay calm y/n, stay calm. He’s coming it’s okay” you finally make it up stairs after a few contractions stop you. You get to the bathroom knowing how everything going to go, you fill the tub and lean on the side of the tub breathing deeply “ come on techno come on”. In the distance Techno ears rise up as He hear a faint scream, his heart stops as He turn around heading back to the cabin. You slowly take ur pants and cry lightly as the pressure in your pelvis gets worse. You hear the door open and smile lightly hearing your name, techno comes in “ Y/N”. He rushes over and you lift your head up “ I guess they wanted to scare us a little “ he chuckles lightly lift you up into the tub gently, the warm water soothes your muscles but the contractions rip through you. He goes putting his stuff away and returns with everything. He hold your hand and gently rubs your lower back and stomach gently “ your doing so good my love” you groan lightly moving onto your knees, he checks every once and awhile “ am I there yet “ he rubs my back checking “ couple more cm darling” Philz shows up later and is extremely excited but extremely helpful. Techno takes you out the tub when time gets closer you rest your back on his chest and he holds your legs gently lifting you up more, they cover your waist down with a towel. Six hours pass and unknowingly to you techno brothers were waiting in the living room. You scream out when you feel the baby move “ their coming techno, their coming “ Philz moves as you grip technos arm as he kisses you head and rubs your thighs “ then push! love push! “ you lean your head back screaming out as a contractions follows and you push sucking in air and close your eyes tightly. Techno kisses ur neck and hums lightly “ there you go darling, your doing so good” you breath heavy leaning ur head back more screams at philza “ GET IT OUT”. You push and push and finally a loud cry is heard. Techno looks down and kisses my head softly “ you did omg you did it” tears run down his face and Philz wraps the little pink piglet in a white sheet moving them to rest on your chest, you cry light. Philz smile “ a boy” you smile up at techno and kiss the top of your sons head gently seeing his light pink hair and giggle lightly “ look at him techno” techno was just in awe of his son, he lay you back on the bed and lean down gently moving his fingers over his sons cheek, his son whimpers lightly and moves causing techno to pull his hand away. “ he’s okay beloved “ you let techno hold him and do to the fact he was half human your son was in the 6,7 piglets palm on his back he whimpered lightly and made a little piglet noises, techno looked up at you kissing you lightly “ thank you, thank you” you kiss him back weakly and lay ur head back smiling. Techno gets closer smelling his sons scent and smile looking at his feature, light pink skin and pink hair how he loved his son. His son moves his arms
yawning and rests his head more on technos thumb. You look over just seeing the most genuine smile on techno face the last time you saw this smile was on your wedding day or during special “stuff”(😉) but he was just so in love with his first son. “We need a name honey” techno looks up “Eric which means ruler, he going to be strong” your heart warmed hearing ur husband words. That night you feel asleep with Eric on your chest and your husband right next to you.
You were officially forty-one weeks pregnant.
Forty-one weeks. Not thirty-nine. Not even the neat, ominous weight of forty. No, you had blown straight past your due date like a train with no brakes and were now living in the swollen purgatory of maternity hell—bloated, achy, short-tempered, and so fed up with your body that you would’ve gladly traded it in for a paper bag and a nap.
Your body ached in places you didn’t know could ache. Your back felt like it had been used as a trampoline in the night. Your hips were stiff. Your feet looked like they belonged to someone who’d spent ten hours standing in a swamp. And your belly? Your belly felt like it had become its own planet, stretching your skin so taut you were convinced you could drum a beat on it.
Nothing fit anymore. Not your clothes. Not your shoes. Not even your own skin, if you were honest. Your maternity leggings had officially waved the white flag. Your bras were lost causes. Your wedding rings had been stashed in a drawer weeks ago, too tight to slide over even a knuckle. And the seatbelt? Daichi had to adjust it for you now, like you were precious cargo—though to be fair, at this point, you basically were. He was careful and considerate and just a little too cheerful about it all, which made it even more infuriating.
“Got everything?” he asked softly, adjusting the strap of your maternity bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.
You didn’t look at him. You didn’t smile. You didn’t even grunt. You groaned—a long, low, theatrical sound of suffering as you slowly lowered yourself into the passenger seat like an elephant easing into a beanbag chair.
He took it in stride. He’d stopped taking anything personally around week thirty-seven.
Still, he reached across and placed his warm palm on your thigh once you were settled, rubbing his thumb in slow, steady circles. You didn’t push it away. You rested your hand on top of his and gave him a tired look that said, If I have to live in this body one more day, I will cry.
The car ride to the clinic was mostly quiet. You sighed a lot. Adjusted the air vents. Rolled down the window. Rolled it back up. Turned the A/C colder. Then warmer. Daichi drove patiently, sneaking occasional glances at you like he wanted to say something encouraging but also very much wanted to survive the day.
The clinic’s waiting room was somehow worse than usual. The chairs were uncomfortable, the light was too bright, and the cheerful wall art—baby elephants, pastel hearts, encouraging quotes in cursive—made you want to scream. You stared at the pamphlet beside you titled “Smiling Through the Third Trimester” with a level of disdain typically reserved for war crimes.
Daichi sat beside you flipping through a magazine that he absolutely wasn’t reading, occasionally peeking at you with quiet concern while trying not to make eye contact with the receptionist, who kept looking at you like you were a ticking time bomb.
When the nurse finally called your name, you heaved yourself up with a groan and waddled toward the hallway like a warrior going into battle. Daichi followed at a polite distance, like a man who knew better than to walk too close to a woman this pregnant and this pissed.
The exam room felt like a refrigerator. You plopped down on the crinkly paper with another long sigh, then glared at the stirrups like they’d personally wronged you. Daichi sat in the chair next to the table and gently rubbed your back, his thumb tracing light circles over your spine.
“Almost there,” he murmured, ever the optimist. “Just hang in a little longer.”
You turned your head to him, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and fury. “I swear to god, Daichi. If one more person tells me I’m almost there, I will throw something. Possibly this table. Possibly you.”
He only smiled through it, squeezing your hand like he hadn’t just been threatened with airborne furniture.
When the doctor entered, she was all serene smiles and clinical calm, her tone chipper and maddeningly upbeat.
“Well,” she said after a quick check, “good news is you’re making progress. The baby’s definitely settling into position. But you’re still not quite there yet. I’d give it another few days.”
You stared at her like she’d just told you the world had been cancelled.
“More days?” you repeated, your voice a cracked whisper. “As in, plural? Like… multiple?”
The doctor gave a warm little chuckle. “It’s different for everyone, but yes, could be a few more. You’re doing great, though.”
Your jaw dropped. You made a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a scream, your hands clenching the edge of the table like it might steady you.
The doctor handed Daichi a brightly colored handout titled “Natural Ways to Encourage Labor.” It had illustrations of smiling pregnant women doing yoga and eating pineapple.
“Try some of these at home,” she said kindly. “Spicy food, gentle movement, maybe a warm bath. You’re almost there.”
Daichi nodded like the polite, helpful husband he was, tucking the paper into your maternity bag as you stood slowly, moving with the weary determination of someone who had carried life for too damn long.
The walk back to the car was slow and tense. You didn’t speak. You didn’t look at anyone. The receptionist offered a cheery “Good luck!” as you left and you very nearly flipped her off.
When Daichi helped you into the car again and got you buckled in, you exhaled long and hard, the sound more like a groan of existential dread than a sigh.
“I’m going to die pregnant,” you said flatly, head tipping back against the seat as your eyes glazed over. “This is it. This is how it ends for me. Swollen and sweaty in the passenger seat of a Toyota.”
“No, you’re not,” he said gently, lips twitching as he reached over to adjust your seatbelt one last time. “You’re going to give birth soon, and then this will all feel like a weird dream.”
You turned your head just enough to shoot him a dry look. “A weird dream where my hips feel like they’re being sawed in half and I haven’t seen my own feet in two months?”
He chuckled under his breath, brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m just saying, you’re doing amazing.”
“Don’t lie to me,” you snapped, though your voice lacked real venom. “I look like a pufferfish and I cry every time I drop something on the floor because I can’t pick it up anymore.”
“I pick it up for you,” he said, unbothered.
“Yeah, and I still cry!” You groaned louder, tossing your head back again. “I’m like a feral raccoon in maternity leggings. I can’t keep living like this.”
“You’re not a raccoon,” he said with a straight face. “You’re majestic. Fearsome. A hormonal goddess.”
You snorted so hard it startled a hiccup out of you. “Oh my god.”
“And soon,” he added, leaning closer to kiss your temple, “you’ll be holding the baby and none of this will matter.”
You didn’t move. You just stared up at the ceiling.
“Watch me die pregnant,” you said again. “They’ll write it on my tombstone.”
--
By the time you made it home, your mood had not improved. You kicked your shoes off at the door, grumbling as you peeled off your coat and waddled into the kitchen, leaving Daichi to trail behind you, pamphlet in hand and hope still stubbornly etched into his expression.
“Okay,” he said as you slumped down at the kitchen table, head in your hands. “Let’s try some of these. Worst case, they don’t work. Best case? Maybe we’ll get things moving.”
You didn’t respond right away. Just groaned into your palms.
He set the paper down gently in front of you. “It says spicy food might help. We could start there?”
You looked up with bloodshot eyes. “I want something violent. Like pepper-spray levels of spice.”
Daichi raised his eyebrows. “I’ve got extra hot chili ramen packets. You could probably weaponize them.”
“Perfect,” you growled. “Boil ‘em.”
Ten minutes later, you were perched on the couch with a bowl of nuclear noodles while Daichi sat beside you with his own, bravely taking a bite. He lasted all of three seconds before coughing into his fist, eyes watering.
“Oh my god—this hurts,” he rasped.
You, completely unaffected, slurped up another bite. “Nothing. Not even a twinge.”
He blinked at you, face red. “I’m going to need milk. And possibly CPR.”
You sighed and set the bowl aside. “Next idea.”
And so began the ridiculous journey.
You drank herbal teas that smelled like dirt and despair. You choked down thick slices of pineapple while muttering curses under your breath. You did the hip-opening stretches the pamphlet suggested, groaning with effort and telling Daichi that if this didn’t work you were going to shove a yoga ball down the stairs. He helped you do slow laps around the living room, hand on your lower back while you walked in increasingly impatient circles.
You even tried the dreaded castor oil. One teaspoon. Two. Mixed into orange juice so it wouldn’t taste like paint thinner. You gagged, glared, and gagged again. Daichi looked horrified but held the glass steady like he was assisting with a medical emergency.
Hours passed. The sun dipped lower in the sky. You had tried every single item on the pamphlet short of hiring a witch to chant over your uterus. And yet—nothing. No contractions. No discomfort. No sign the baby had any plans of evacuating. Just the same heavy weight in your belly and the constant ache of your ribs.
You threw yourself back onto the couch with a long, miserable sigh, your belly rising and falling like a dramatic mountain of defeat.
“This baby,” you declared, voice scratchy with exhaustion, “is never coming out. This is it. They’ve made a permanent home. They’re going to graduate college still inside me.”
Daichi, kneeling next to the couch, chuckled softly and leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead.
“Can you blame them?” he murmured. “You’ve made them a pretty amazing home.”
You blinked at him, half-touched and half-annoyed. “That’s not helpful.”
He grinned and sat back on his heels, picking the pamphlet up again with exaggerated patience. “Well, if they’re not leaving on their own, we’re gonna have to evict them.”
You groaned dramatically. “We’ve tried everything. I’ve eaten enough pineapple to singlehandedly wipe out Hawaii’s exports. I drank that weird tea that tastes like boiled weeds. I took castor oil, Daichi. Castor. Oil. Nothing works.”
He hummed, eyes skimming down the page.
Then he paused.
You watched as his brow arched just slightly.
“…What?” you said slowly.
He cleared his throat. “Well, technically… we haven’t tried everything.”
You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean?”
He turned the pamphlet toward you and pointed at a single line with a very straight face.
“Intercourse may help induce labor.”
You stared. Then looked at him. Then back at the pamphlet.
Your eyes narrowed, your lips pressing into a line as the wheels in your head began to turn. For a long moment, you didn’t say a word. But something changed—visibly, unmistakably. Your posture shifted. Your breath stilled. Your entire demeanor settled into something focused, determined, just a little bit unhinged.
Daichi saw it immediately. He watched the transformation like someone witnessing a weather shift, like a man who’d seen the sky turn before a storm. His back straightened. His eyes went wide. He held up one hand as if you were a wild animal and he needed to de-escalate the situation.
“Babe—let’s just think this through—”
You sat up slowly. Deliberately. Every movement a signal.
Your voice dropped, calm but commanding, your eyes locked on his.
“…Get upstairs.”
Daichi followed you up the stairs like a man walking toward something both holy and terrifying.
You didn’t speak. Just kept your back straight, your breath steady, your feet deliberate on the steps. Every part of you radiated heat—rage, desperation, need. By the time you reached the bedroom, you were already tugging off your shirt, grumbling under your breath as it got stuck around your chest. You were a force of nature, belly full and breasts heavy, skin flushed with exertion and irritation.
“Help me,” you snapped, voice breathless.
Daichi was at your side in a second, pulling the fabric over your head, his hands lingering for just a second too long on the bare curve of your shoulder. It had been a while since the two of you had made love—between the fatigue, the constant discomfort, and the way your body had become less your own and more a vessel of life, intimacy had taken a quiet backseat. You missed it. Missed him. And he missed you—his touch tentative and reverent, like he was savoring the moment as much as you were. You turned to him, eyes burning.
“This baby is coming out tonight,” you said, voice low and deadly serious. “So get on the bed.”
He hesitated—not because he didn’t want to. He wanted to. God, did he want to. But his eyes kept flicking to your belly, the way it rounded out so full and taut, the faint sheen of sweat already glistening along your collarbone.
“Are you sure?” he asked, hand resting against your waist, careful and reverent. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” you said, grabbing him by the wrist and guiding him toward the mattress. “And if you do, I won’t care. I need this.”
He let out a shaky breath as you pushed him down onto the bed and climbed over him. The tension between you was thick, every inch of skin electric. Months of abstaining made everything heightened—your nerves tingled where his fingers grazed your hips, and his breathing hitched every time you shifted above him. His hands went instinctively to your thighs as you straddled him, palms warm and wide and trembling just slightly.
You leaned down to kiss him, hard and fast, teeth scraping his bottom lip as you ground your hips against his crotch. He gasped, his body already responding beneath you.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Good,” you muttered, dragging your fingers down his chest. “Then we’ll die together.”
He chuckled breathlessly, then hooked his fingers in your waistband, easing your underwear off your hips with slow, reverent care. When he touched you, his fingertips sliding through the wet heat between your thighs, he exhaled like he was in awe.
“You’re soaked,” he whispered, voice tight, eyes dark with restraint.
“I’m ready,” you breathed, rolling your hips into his touch.
He didn’t argue. He pushed his boxers down and kicked them off, his cock thick and flushed against his stomach. He gripped it at the base, ready to guide himself in, but you brushed his hand aside and positioned yourself with shaking thighs.
“Let me,” you murmured.
And then you sank down, slow and deep, the stretch sharp enough to make you gasp. Your hands clutched his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin as you took him all the way in, inch by aching inch.
Daichi groaned, low and guttural, his head tipping back against the pillows. “Jesus, you’re so tight—fuck—”
You paused, hips resting flush against his, just breathing. The fullness was overwhelming, perfect, exactly what you needed.
When you started to move, it was unhurried. The sensitivity of not having touched like this in weeks made every motion feel magnified—every grind, every squeeze, every brush of skin set fire to your nerves. You both gasped more than once, surprised by how much you'd missed this, missed each other. Deep, rolling thrusts that had you grinding down with every motion, drawing small sounds from your throat as your body adjusted to the rhythm.
Daichi’s hands moved to your waist, holding you steady, thumbs stroking gentle circles along your skin.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice shaky. “You’re carrying our baby, and you still want me like this?”
“I don’t want you,” you corrected breathlessly. “I need you.”
Your pace picked up, just slightly, each roll of your hips drawing gasps from both of you. The bed creaked under the rhythm, your swollen belly brushing against his chest every time you leaned in to kiss him, desperate and messy and aching.
He slid one hand up to cup your breast, thumbing over your nipple until you arched into him. Your moan was sharp, needy, your body clenching tight around him.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, fingers tightening on your hip. “You’re so—god, you feel so good.”
You chased the friction, riding him harder, faster, the pressure building between your legs in thick, pulsing waves. He met your thrusts now, his hips lifting off the bed, his face buried against your neck as he groaned into your skin.
When your orgasm hit, it slammed through you like a tidal wave, your body locking up around him as you gasped his name, trembling all over. He held you through it, rocking you gently, murmuring praise into your shoulder until your shudders turned to aftershocks.
Then he flipped you gently onto your back, careful with your belly, bracing himself above you as he drove into you with long, deep strokes, chasing his own edge.
You watched him through hooded eyes, heart racing, mouth parted in a soft, dazed smile. He looked wrecked—sweat-damp hair, flushed cheeks, jaw clenched with restraint as he fucked you slow and deep.
“I’m close,” he warned, voice fraying.
You cupped his face, nodding, heart still thudding from your own climax. “It’s okay. Come inside me. I want to feel you.”
With a broken sound, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning your name as he came, thick pulses filling you, his body trembling with release. You wrapped your arms around him as he collapsed slowly beside you, one arm still curled protectively across your middle, his breath hot against your shoulder.
Neither of you said anything for a long while. The room was warm and quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of your breathing. His hand smoothed over your belly, the rise and fall of it still unsteady. You were both flushed, glistening with sweat, chests heaving.
You turned your head toward him slightly, letting out a huff of a laugh. “Well… at least I feel better.”
Daichi huffed a laugh, his voice still rough. “Honestly? Same. Not sure if we jumpstarted labor or just obliterated our spines, though.”
You both lay there for a beat longer, catching your breath, limbs tangled, and the faint hum of calm settling over you.
Eventually, you shifted, groaning softly as you sat up on your elbows. “Okay,” you said, voice still breathy, “I should probably clean up—”
And then it happened.
A sudden, warm rush.
You blinked. Froze. Looked down.
“…Oh my god,” you whispered. “Daichi.”
He sat up slowly, still half-lost in the afterglow. “Hmm?”
You stared at the sheets beneath you, soaked through in a way that was definitely not from sex.
“My water broke,” you said, blinking again. The shock in your voice cut through the air.
Daichi’s head snapped toward you.
“My water broke,” you repeated, louder this time, voice rising in panic. “Daichi, my fucking water broke.”
The adrenaline that had left your limbs warm and loose now twisted into pure, electric panic.
He was moving before you could spiral further, sitting up and cupping your face with both hands.
“Hey, hey—look at me,” he said quickly, steadying your breathing with his voice. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”
You nodded, dazed, still processing the rush of adrenaline and disbelief. Just moments ago, you had been begging for something to happen—for anything to finally signal the end. And now that it had, now that it was really happening, your heart felt like it might explode with the sheer weight of it. You had wanted this so badly. You had cursed the waiting. And yet now, the second it arrived, you were caught somewhere between terror and awe.
“I wanted this,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “I wanted this to happen.”
Daichi brushed a strand of damp hair away from your face, smiling warmly. “You did. And now it’s happening.”
You exhaled a shaky laugh, voice cracking. “I’m terrified.”
“I know,” he said, cupping your cheek with a hand as steady as his voice. “Me too. But we’re ready. You’re ready.”
You nodded again, tears welling in your eyes, this time from joy—not just from fear or exhaustion. You were going to meet your baby. Tonight. Maybe in just a few hours.
Daichi pressed a kiss to your forehead before swinging his legs off the bed, already grabbing the overnight bag he had packed and repacked a dozen times.
“Let’s go meet our baby,” he said, voice warm and certain.
And this time, you smiled through the chaos. Because it was finally happening—and you weren’t doing it alone.
It was supposed to be one of your favorites.
Yaku stood proudly in front of the stove, dishing up a steaming plate of oyakodon—fluffy egg, juicy chicken, perfectly seasoned rice. You’d been craving something warm and comforting, and he’d been more than happy to oblige. He even made miso soup on the side, garnished just the way you liked it, with the little tofu cubes floating lazily in the bowl. The apartment smelled like soy sauce and dashi, rich and nostalgic.
You waddled into the kitchen with one hand on your lower back, the other absentmindedly tracing the edge of your growing bump, already smiling at the scent you knew so well.
But then—
It hit you.
The smell.
Hard.
You stopped short. The smile slipped from your face. Your nose crinkled, your eyes went wide, and your stomach lurched.
You gagged once, loud and sudden.
Yaku turned from the stove instantly, eyes narrowing with alarm. “Hey—are you okay?”
You waved him off, trying to speak, trying to play it off like you could power through it.
“Yeah, I just—” You gagged again, louder this time, one hand flying to your mouth. “It’s fine, I think I just need a second—”
Then your stomach gave up entirely.
The rich scent of simmered egg and soy sauce suddenly turned rancid in your senses, and before you could say a word, both hands flew to your mouth. You staggered toward the sink, breathing hard through your nose.
Yaku turned just in time to watch you sprint the rest of the way.
You barely made it. Gripping the edges of the basin, you gagged violently, doubling over as your body heaved with no warning. Your knees buckled slightly from the effort, and tears sprang to your eyes as you fought to keep control.
“Oh—oh my god,” Yaku choked out, dropping the plate onto the counter with a sharp clatter. His hand hovered midair, frozen, like he wasn’t sure if he should run toward you or flee entirely.
He chose you.
“Hey, hey—it’s okay,” he said, voice slightly high-pitched, his mouth tugging awkwardly to one side as he fought against his visible discomfort. His nose wrinkled despite himself, but he pressed a hand to your back, rubbing slow, shaky circles. “It’s okay. Just breathe. You got it.”
You were sobbing before you even lifted your head.
“I loved that dish,” you wailed, tears streaming freely now. “You made it perfectly and I—I threw up in front of you, and I can’t even eat it now, and I’m so sorry—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said quickly, helping you upright and handing you a cool cloth from the fridge. “None of that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
You wiped your mouth, sniffling. “But I ruined dinner.”
He glanced warily at the plate, now abandoned and beginning to cool. “Yeah, well, it’s not my best memory of oyakodon anymore, but that’s fine. It’ll survive.”
You hiccupped a wet laugh. “You’re grossed out.”
“I’m... challenged,” he admitted with a strained smile. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’ll gag quietly in the corner if I have to.”
You buried your face in his shoulder. “I hate that my body’s doing this. I hate that I wanted something so badly and then just—rejected it like that.”
He stroked your back, gentler now. “It’s not rejection. It’s just... a rebranding.”
You pulled back slightly, puffy-eyed. “What does that even mean?”
“It means,” he said, tipping your chin up, “that we’re finding new favorites now. So tell me what you can stomach, and I’ll make it happen.”
You hesitated.
“…You’re not gonna like it.”
“I just watched you throw up mid-step and I stayed. Try me.”
“…Pickles.”
He nodded. “Alright.”
“With peanut butter.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And crushed ice.”
He blinked. “Separate or…?”
“Side dish.”
“Of course.”
“And I want a plain bagel. But I want to dip it in cream cheese and ketchup.”
He exhaled. “Naturally.”
“And maybe some frozen corn niblets? Not cooked. Just... straight from the freezer.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Making a list.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do,” he interrupted, already walking to the counter. “Because you’re growing a whole human, and apparently that human is very specific.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. Even if I hate this list.”
And with that, he kissed your temple, grabbed his keys, and set off to hunt down every absurd craving you’d dreamed up—with only a faint grimace and a stomach made of steel.
--
It took him two corner stores and a specialty deli, but Yaku returned triumphant, arms full of grocery bags and a look of determination on his face. He laid everything out on the coffee table like it was a five-star buffet: pickles, peanut butter, crushed ice in a big bowl, a plain bagel, cream cheese, ketchup, and a bag of frozen corn.
You were already curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies, and your face lit up like the sun when you saw it all. “Oh my god,” you gasped, reaching for the pickles first and dipping one straight into the peanut butter without hesitation. “This is perfect.”
Yaku sat on the edge of the couch, watching with a blend of horror and awe as you crunched down on your Frankenstein meal with pure, genuine joy.
You munched happily, cheeks puffed out, eyes dreamy as you chewed. “Oh my god, I love you so much.”
He smiled, soft and full of affection. “I love you too.”
Then, quieter, barely a mumble as he stared at the bagel going into the ketchup-cream cheese dip: “This kid is gonna be weird.”
You’re two months pregnant and absolutely glowing. There’s a nervous excitement in your every breath, your hand constantly drifting over your still-flat belly as if to check that it’s real. That there’s really a little life growing inside you. A little Miya, curled up and getting bigger by the day.
You’re in the passenger seat of the car, heading toward your very first ultrasound appointment. The windows are down, and the soft spring breeze is curling through your hair as the late morning sun streams through the windshield. Everything feels light. Hopeful. Surreal.
Atsumu is driving one-handed, his other resting on your thigh, thumb tracing idle circles against your leggings. He hums quietly to the radio, lips twitching into a smile every time he glances over at you.
“Y’know,” he says after a moment, “I been thinkin’ about what kind of nose they’ll have. Hopefully yours. Mine’s too pointy.”
You let out a soft laugh, the kind that bubbles up without effort. “As long as they don’t have your drama.”
“Hey!” he protests, though he’s still smiling as he squeezes your leg. “They’re allowed a little flair. They are mine, after all.”
You roll your eyes fondly, fingers tangling with his at the next red light. He lifts your joined hands to press a kiss to your knuckles before driving on.
When you pull into the clinic parking lot, your nerves start to set in—low and creeping. It’s your first time seeing the baby. Hearing a heartbeat. It makes everything feel suddenly, painfully real.
The waiting room is quiet, with soft instrumental music playing and the smell of hand sanitizer hanging in the air. You’re seated beside Atsumu, your knees bouncing ever so slightly as your mind races ahead. His hand is still in yours, firm and grounding.
When the nurse finally calls your name, you squeeze his fingers a little tighter.
The exam room is dimly lit, calm, with a monitor beside the table and soft instructions given as you lie back. You wince slightly at the cold gel, heart pounding in your ears as the technician glides the wand over your stomach.
She squints at the screen. Tilts her head.
Then her eyes widen slightly.
“Oh.”
You stiffen. “What? What is it? Is something wrong?”
She’s quick to reassure you. “No, no—everything looks good. It’s just... you’re having twins.”
Silence.
Atsumu leans in closer, eyes squinting at the screen. “Twins?”
“Twins,” the technician repeats, pointing to two distinct little shapes. “You see here? Two sacs. Two heartbeats.”
Your gaze locks onto the screen. Two. Not one. Not the tiny flutter you’d been preparing for, but two.
A sudden wave of panic crashes over you.
“Two?” you echo, your voice a shaky whisper. “Like... two babies? At the same time?”
The technician gently clears her throat. "Well, it’s a little early to know for sure if they’re fraternal or identical, but yes—twins."
You feel your breath hitch, the room growing smaller around you. “That’s two car seats. Two cribs. Two births. Two newborns crying at once—”
Your hand grips Atsumu’s forearm, eyes wide as your mind races. “I don’t—I wasn’t ready for two. I barely wrapped my head around one.”
You’re still staring at the screen when Atsumu shifts closer to the bed, his hand still resting lightly on yours.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Breathe for me, okay?”
You turn toward him with wide, overwhelmed eyes. “Tsumu... that’s two babies. That’s two of everything. What if I can’t—what if I’m not enough for both of them?”
“You are,” he says instantly, without hesitation. “You will be. We will.”
But your hand flails toward his forearm like it needs something to latch onto. “This is your fault. You and Osamu. You cursed me with twin genes!”
He stares at you, stunned. “What?! How is this my fault?”
“Because you’re a twin! That’s how!”
The technician offers a gentle smile, still watching the monitor. “Actually, twins are likely influenced by the mother’s genetics. So if anyone ‘passed it down,’ it’s likely you.”
You blink slowly. “So... it’s me?”
Atsumu exhales—relieved. “See? I didn’t do this! You doubled down on your own.”
Your head snaps toward the technician, eyes wide and blinking rapidly, a storm of disbelief swirling behind them. You don’t say anything—but your look says plenty.
The technician catches the expression immediately and offers a placating smile, lifting her hands lightly. "I’ll give you two a minute," she says gently, already stepping toward the door, and quietly slips out of the room, pulling it closed behind her with a soft click.
You drop your head back onto the exam pillow with a muffled groan. “I don’t know how to do one baby. Let alone two. That’s double the crying. Double the diapers. Double the college funds.”
Atsumu leans down until his forehead presses softly to yours. His hand finds yours again, grounding you with the warmth of his palm and the way his thumb strokes soothingly across your skin.
“Hey,” he says, voice low and gentle. “Breathe. We’ll figure it out.”
You don’t answer right away, eyes still locked on the monitor where two flickering heartbeats pulse in rhythm.
He kisses your forehead, slow and reassuring. “We’ll go one diaper at a time. One bottle at a time. One late-night rocking session at a time. We’re gonna be okay.”
Your lip trembles. “Are we?”
He smiles, brushing your hair back from your forehead. “I’m not lettin’ you do this alone. You’re stuck with me, baby. Me, and the two little monsters we made.”
You laugh wetly, a mix of shock and affection tangled in your chest. He leans down and kisses you again—cheek, then jaw, then temple—before turning to look back at the screen.
And in the glow of that monitor, with two tiny heartbeats tapping out the rhythm of your future, Atsumu squeezes your hand and whispers:
“They’ve already got the best mom in the world. The rest’ll be easy.”
You sit up slightly and reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, your chin resting against his shoulder. “Thank you,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. “I needed to hear that.”
You’re not sure when it started. Maybe sometime last week, maybe even before that—but the switch flipped quietly, without warning. One minute you were just a little tired, a little bloated, trying to get comfortable with the weird limbo that is second trimester pregnancy. And the next?
You were staring at your husband like he was carved from marble. Like every movement of his arms under that damn fitted black t-shirt was offensive. Like the way his voice dipped when he answered a work call should be punishable by law.
You hadn’t touched him in days—partly because you were tired, partly because the two of you were still adjusting to the wave of appointments and vitamins and new routines. But now, now your skin feels too tight for your body. You can’t stop thinking about his hands. His stupid smirk. The stretch of muscle across his stomach when he reaches for the top shelf. You keep shifting in your chair at the kitchen table, thighs pressed together as you half-watch him move around the apartment, trying not to combust every time he bends to grab something or stretches his arms over his head like a personal attack.
You're four months pregnant, and your hormones are holding you hostage.
But how the hell are you supposed to say that? Hey honey, I want you so bad it’s making me delusional? You’re turning me on just by walking?
You'd rather burst into flames.
So instead, you sit quietly, pretending to scroll through your phone while your eyes flicker up to him every ten seconds like a heat-seeking missile. You’re trying to be subtle. You really are.
Unfortunately for you, Kuroo Tetsurou has known you long enough to spot a mood shift from fifty paces away—and he’s been watching. Smugly. Patiently. Waiting.
The first hint that you’ve been caught comes when he strolls by with a bowl of chopped strawberries, casually plucks one from the bowl, and leans over to offer it to you without a word. You’re caught off guard, lips parting automatically as he feeds it to you. Your teeth graze the tip of his fingers, just barely, and his lips twitch.
He doesn’t move. Just watches you chew. Slow. Calm.
Then, in a voice dipped in dry amusement: “You’ve been staring at me for twenty minutes.”
You blink, swallow. “I haven’t.”
“Mm,” he hums, straightening up. “Sure you haven’t.”
You grit your teeth. Heat burns your cheeks. You can already feel the spiral beginning.
He doesn’t press. Just walks around the kitchen like he didn’t just call you out for mentally undressing him on the spot. His movements are so casual it’s infuriating. He grabs a dish towel, wipes down the counter, opens the fridge, all while your brain is on fire.
You stare down at your phone, eyes unfocused, and will yourself to get it together. You just need to act normal. You’re not gonna combust. It’s fine. It’s just hormones.
“You okay?” he asks, voice far too neutral. You glance up. He’s leaning against the counter now, arms crossed over that broad chest, eyebrow lifted in feigned innocence.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You’re flushed.” His head tilts. “You hot?”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
You shift in your seat, pressing your knees together. “Yes.”
Another pause. Then:
“You hungry?”
Your eyes shoot to him instinctively—and that’s when you realize he knows. Not just suspects. Not maybe. Knows.
And worse: he’s enjoying it.
Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You look away again, hands gripping your phone like it might save you from yourself.
When he crosses the room, you don’t even notice until he’s crouching beside your chair, resting one arm on the armrest, the other hand brushing lightly over your thigh. You freeze.
“Sweetheart,” he says, voice dipped in syrup, eyes glinting with something dangerous, “you’ve been lookin’ at me like you want to climb me.”
You blink rapidly. “That’s not—”
“You sigh every time I stretch.” His fingers trace up to your knee. “You squirm when I talk. You’ve eaten, slept, and had your iron supplements. So unless there’s a sudden new strawberry emergency—”
“Tetsuro.”
“—I think,” he murmurs, leaning closer, “there’s something you’re not saying.”
You bury your face in your hands, groaning into your palms. “This is so embarrassing.”
He laughs softly, warm breath fanning over your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your temple. “It’s adorable.”
“It’s feral, Tetsu. I feel like a monster.”
“Monsters don’t look at me like that,” he says, voice low against your skin. “They don’t whimper every time I bend over.”
You groan louder, but your body leans into him on instinct.
“Say it,” he teases. “C’mon. Say you want me.”
“I hate you.”
“You want me.”
“I’m four months pregnant and deranged, don’t flatter yourself.”
“Oh, baby,” he grins, pulling you gently into his lap, “you’re carrying my kid and horny for me? I’m the luckiest bastard alive.”
Mortified beyond recovery, you squirm your way out of his lap, muttering something unintelligible as you bolt from the kitchen. It’s half an attempt to escape, half a desperate grab for your dignity. You make it three steps into the hallway before you hear him laugh—low and knowing—and then feel his hands at your hips.
“Where d’you think you’re going?” he murmurs, lips brushing the curve of your ear as he tugs you back against him. “You’re not getting away from me after saying all that.”
You fumble for a response, but it vanishes the second his hands find the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing your skin with unbearable slowness. You tilt your head back without thinking, breath catching.
“Tetsurou—”
“Yeah?” he answers, already kissing down your neck, voice infuriatingly calm. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”
You don’t. You can’t.
Instead, your hands find his wrists and guide them higher. You melt into him like wax to flame.
“Good girl,” he breathes against your jaw. “That’s more like it.”
Before you can catch your breath, he has you gently turned, your back pressing against the hallway wall. His hands settle firmly on your hips, then slide lower, fingers working with a confidence that has your knees buckling. You gasp when he pops the button of your pants, the sound deafening in the quiet space between your bodies.
“Tetsurou—”
“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over your collarbone with the lightest graze, voice so low and deliberate it sends a pulse through your spine. His hand dips beneath the waistband of your underwear with a languid slowness, his knuckles dragging along your skin like he wants you to feel everything.
“Let me take care of you, yeah? You’ve been trying so hard to hold it together.”
You inhale sharply as his fingers slide deeper, seeking out the ache you’ve been trying to ignore for days. When he finds it—you—it’s like your body short-circuits. Your breath stutters, hips jolting forward as if your body’s been waiting for this exact moment, this exact touch.
His fingers move with maddening precision—expert and unhurried—stroking you in a rhythm that melts the strength from your knees. He presses you harder into the wall, not with force but weight, anchoring you there while your body twists and trembles under his control. His mouth trails along your neck, slow kisses blooming across your pulse point as you gasp, the sound catching in your throat.
"Just relax, sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, "Let me make it better."
Your hands cling to his arms, fingers digging into his sleeves as your body arches into him. The tension coils tighter and tighter, strung high by weeks of restrained want, the heat of your own embarrassment fueling the need. He murmurs low praise into your skin—good girl, so soft, so perfect, so fucking sweet like this—and the words alone nearly undo you.
And when you do come, it’s a quiet, raw thing—your body trembling in his hold, face tucked against his shoulder, a muffled cry of Tetsurou slipping from your lips like confession. He holds you steady through it, one arm around your waist, the other still curled low, fingers easing you through every last tremor.
When your breathing slows, when the fog begins to lift, his hand gently slips free and he cradles your face, brushing back damp strands of hair with the same fingers that just unraveled you.
“God, you’re perfect,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours. “My gorgeous, needy wife. All mine.”
Your breath comes out in short, shaky bursts, still reeling, still trembling in his hands. “I can’t believe I—” you start, but the words collapse in your throat, too breathless, too flustered to finish.
Tetsurou chuckles softly, and before you can even think about collecting yourself, he’s hooking one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you with effortless strength.
You yelp, arms flying around his neck as he princess carries you down the hallway, your face burning hot against his shoulder. “Tetsu—! What are you doing?!”
He glances down at you, grin smug, eyes molten. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he murmurs, already walking with you in his arms toward the bedroom. His voice is velvet and heat, wrapped around every word, promising more. “I’ve got you all night, baby. You’re not going anywhere.”
The second the double doors of the weight room open, it’s like you’ve stepped into a different universe—a world of metal clanks, low grunts, chalk-dusted air, and the constant thud of iron plates hitting the floor. And now, slicing clean through that rhythmic storm of testosterone and hyper-focus, is you: very pregnant, slightly annoyed, and holding the wallet your husband managed to leave behind on the kitchen counter this morning. You didn’t think twice about walking the ten minutes over from your place. It’s not like you hiked a mountain—you waddled across pavement in sneakers. But by the way the entire Olympic volleyball team turns toward you in unison, you might as well be carrying a live grenade instead of a baby.
“WOAHHH—LOOK OUT! Civilian on the floor!” Bokuto’s voice booms across the room, sweaty hair sticking up, arms mid-air like you’d broken the rules of gravity just by showing up.
Atsumu, flat on a bench press with Kageyama spotting him, twists his head far too dramatically toward you and lets out a long, low whistle. “Ain’t no civilian, Bo. That’s Iwaizumi’s wife. And she’s lookin’ like she’s about to drop that baby right here in front of the dumbbells.”
You don’t even get the chance to sigh before you spot him—Hajime, towel around his neck, clipboard tucked under one arm, halfway through barking cues at someone doing squats. His head snaps toward you the second he hears Bokuto’s yell, and his entire body goes rigid. The clipboard hits the bench with a clatter. The towel is forgotten. His mouth moves, but there’s no time for words—he’s already weaving through machines and teammates, practically charging toward you like the floor itself might crumble under your feet.
“You walked here? Alone?” he demands as soon as he’s within a few feet, eyes scanning you from head to toe like he’s checking for bruises.
“I’m not made of paper, Hajime. I walked from the apartment. Not across a battlefield.” You hold the wallet up between two fingers, giving him a pointed look. “You left this on the counter, by the way.”
He takes it, but barely spares it a glance. His attention is completely on you—his wife, his very-pregnant-wife, standing in the middle of the Olympic team’s weight room surrounded by free weights, kettlebells, unstable mats, and volleyball players who think balance training on BOSU balls is a personality trait.
“This place isn’t safe for you,” he mutters under his breath, eyes narrowing at a barbell someone just let crash onto the floor nearby. “You shouldn’t be around this equipment. There’s too many ways you could trip, or get knocked, or—hell—slip on a chalk patch.”
You raise your eyebrows and gesture around you. “I am standing still, Hajime. On flat ground. Wearing shoes. Holding a wallet. This is not a life-threatening activity.”
His lips flatten into a tight line. “You’re thirty-eight weeks. You should be sitting, preferably somewhere padded, with a bottle of water and a snack within reach.”
You blink. “Are you reading off a checklist right now?”
He doesn’t answer.
At that moment, Komori jogs up with his usual bounce, sweat still gleaming on his forehead and a towel slung haphazardly over his shoulder. “Wait—this is your wife? The one we keep hearing about?”
“He doesn’t talk about her,” Kiryu calls from the dumbbell rack, not even bothering to look up. “He says stuff like ‘my wife made soup’ and ‘my wife needs pickles.’ That’s it. That’s all we get.”
You offer a small, amused smile and rest both hands on your stomach. “Hi. Yes. I’m Soup-and-Pickles. Thirty-eight weeks along. Full of baby. And apparently one bad step away from being put in a medically induced nap.”
There’s a chorus of laughter, though it’s mixed with soft whistles of awe as more of the team gravitates toward you. Aran strolls over with a light smile, while Hinata’s practically vibrating behind him.
“You really came all the way here?” Aran asks.
“It’s ten minutes from home,” you reply, shooting a glance up at your husband who still looks like he’s trying to map the safest escape route out of the gym for you. “I’m pregnant, not cursed.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Iwaizumi mutters. “You’re standing next to iron weights in Converse. That’s a hostile environment.”
You roll your eyes, adjusting the strap on your bag. “They’re high-tops. Extra support.”
Before he can scold you further, Hinata suddenly leans forward with stars in his eyes. “Is the baby kicking?”
“Oh yeah,” you nod, hand moving instinctively to the right side of your belly. “She’s training for nationals, I think. My ribs are her new personal practice net.”
“Can I feel?” Komori blurts out, his expression open and hopeful.
You’re about to say yes, but Hajime moves before you can answer, shifting his stance ever so slightly to put his body between you and Komori with the quiet intensity of a dad who’s already protective before the baby’s even born.
“She’s not a mascot,” he says flatly.
You place your palm on his chest. “Hajime. It’s fine.”
His eyes flicker to yours. He relents with a small sigh, stepping aside like it physically pains him to do so.
Komori gently places his hand on your stomach, and when the baby kicks, his face lights up like someone handed him a puppy. “Oh my god. That’s incredible.”
Kageyama peers over curiously. “Does it feel weird?”
“Like an alien living under your skin,” you say cheerfully. “And sometimes the alien cries when you don’t feed it grilled cheese at exactly 3 a.m.”
“Sounds terrifying,” Sakusa mumbles nearby, adjusting a band on his wrist.
“Iwaizumi,” Yaku calls from where he’s doing banded lunges, “you better give that kid rock-solid calves. I don’t care how. It’s your duty.”
“Oh, we’re starting this already?” you laugh. “Pressure before she’s even out of the womb?”
“Oh, we’ve been taking bets,” Suna says, finally looking up from his phone with the laziest smile. “Due date, hair color, position they’ll play.”
“Definitely not libero,” Bokuto adds, puffing his chest. “That baby’s got outside hitter energy.”
“I swear to god,” Iwaizumi mutters, dragging a hand down his face.
You press a soft kiss to his jaw and whisper just loud enough for him to hear, “You love it.”
He doesn’t answer. Just wraps one arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side, hand resting low and protective on the curve of your stomach. He kisses the top of your head. Quiet. Steady.
You nudge him lightly and lift a brow. “Still mad I walked into the weight room?”
He looks down at you, expression flat. “I am always mad when you walk into a room with flying metal plates and men with the coordination of blindfolded rhinos.”
“I brought you your wallet.”
“And almost gave me a stroke in the process.”
You grin, dig into his pocket, and pull out one of his protein bars. “And I’m stealing your snack.”
“…Unbelievable.”