#Genetic Screening before Pregnancy

[shubhragoyal]

Pre-pregnancy counseling: Your stepping stone to parenthood. Get expert guidance and prepare for a healthy and informed pregnancy journey.

Learn more: https://www.drshubhragoyal.com/welcome/blogs/pre-pregnancy-counseling:-a-stepping-stone-to-parenthood

[fangswbenefits]

Tracking

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You find out Miguel has been tracking something that concerns you… and him.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Breeding kink. Period talk. Miguel going all scientific and keeping track of fertility windows for maximum efficacy. Dry humping. Inspired by this ask.

Miguel was in a bad mood that afternoon. You could see it coming a mile off, because having spent that much time around him over the past years had revealed many warning signs.

The circular platform was lowered all the way down to the floor by the time you walked past the door.

Miguel not turning to acknowledge your presence was warning sign number one.

You strode up to it warily, as if expecting him to explode at any given moment. Trying to lighten the mood, you tip toed to place a sweet kiss to his cheek.

He grumbled in response.

Warning sign number two.

His eyes were fixed on the multiple of screen sprawled in a half-moon in front of him, occasionally tapping and moving them around when needed.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” you teased.

“I’m nearly done here.”

“Hello to you, too, grumpy,” you nudged his arm with a smile.

Miguel merely nodded.

Warning sign number three.

At this point, you figured something was definitely going on.

“What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

You sighed. “You look and sound off.”

He tapped on a screen to his left. “You’re on your period.”

“What?”

Usually, that sort of remark would earn any man a slap at worst or a ‘fuck you’ at best. There was no shortage of men who would use women’s hormones as an easy way to deflect their feelings.

But there was something in Miguel’s tone that resembled… disappointment?

He scowled deeply, turning to face you. “You’re not pregnant.”

You stared at him for a long time, before bursting into laughter. “Is that why you’re all grumpy?”

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening.

You stopped at once. “Wait… how would you know that?”

He returned his attention to the hovering screens in front of him. “Know what?”

“That I’m on my period?” you asked, suspicion rising inside you. “And I still haven’t gotten it, by the way.”

And just like that, Miguel’s crimson eyes were on you expectantly. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

You folded your arms while tapping your foot lightly. “No. You answer me first.”

Miguel knew better than to antagonise you, especially now that you had information that interested him.

Dragging his index finger across the panel, you saw a file pop up with your name. That didn’t seem odd at all. Every spider in Nueva York was required to have one that displayed several strategic details as well as bio data that was fed by the dimensional travel watch. Your heart rate was at a steady 67 beats per minute.

“What about it?”

He tapped on a second tab that read ‘Fertility’.

Nothing could have prepared you for the influx of information you were about to be bombarded with.

And what it concerned.

July 4th

Cycle day 1 - low chance of pregnancy

Fertility window - 12 to 18

Ovulation day - 17 (high chances of pregnancy)

“You’re tracking my period?!” you snapped in utter disbelief.

“I’m tracking your fertility window.”

You glared at him. “How is that any different?”

“It’s not. Just nomenclature,” he shrugged casually as if talking about the change of weather outside.

You shot Miguel a death glare, before shoving him to the side, gaining full access to the flickering orange screen. The data collected went back as far as three months ago.

Miguel had been tracking your fertility window for months now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shifted to stand behind you, easily towering with his impressive height. “It’s my responsibility to get you pregnant.”

Your eyes widened partially in disbelief, but mostly at the realisation that this shouldn’t be a shocking revelation.

Miguel had to be in control at all times. It was embedded in his genetic code. A few months ago you had casually joked that you wouldn’t mind having a child soon.

It seemed that it was all the motivation he needed to begin his quest.

Now it made perfect sense why he had been so insistent on always cumming inside you. You just didn’t think he would be this dedicated.

Joke’s on you.

“But it seems the data is wrong,” he said lowly, arms circling around you to have his hands atop yours on the keyboard. “You can edit it,” he whispered, pressing himself fully against you.

The added pressure pushed your lower half gently against the control table, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“Are you trying to seduce me, so I ignore all of this?” you whispered, enjoying how the proximity was having a noticeable effect on his cock.

He rolled against you slowly. “Me? Of course not.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, and you watched your heart rate on the screen soar to 78 beats per minutes.

You fought back a whimper, as he was nipping at your neck, fangs lightly poking at sensitive skin. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively, you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

90 beats per minute.

“Let me get a blood sample so I can test out,” he said, his erection pressed against your ass.

“Someone really wants to be a dad,” you said with a teasing smile.

99 beats per minute.

His other hand came to grip your jaw, tilting your head until you met his eyes. “I need you to get pregnant.”

Your breath was coming out in shallow pants as he kept humping you at a steady and torturous pace.

“You mean… you need to breed me, right?”

109 beats per minute.

His eyeds widened lightly and he thrusted harshly into you, causing a jolt of pleasure to travel all the way down to your clit. “That’s the same thing, cariño.”

You gave him a knowing smile. “Nomenclature and all that.”

Masterlist

[satorhime]

trouble comes twice ࿐ gojo satoru x female reader. satoru falls ill with a case of baby fever after seeing his baby girl dressed up as him.

content . ᕀ gojo and reader are parents [ referred to as ‘dada’ & ‘mama’ ], brief mention of pregnancy, emotional!gojo, sweet fluff with slightly suggestive dialogue at the end. 

“dada- dada, look at me!” 

your daughter screeches out, announcing her arrival with the bright and melodic babble of a mischievous child. she stands on her tippy toes, her fingers covering your own as she helps you twist the knob and open the door to satoru’s office. 

even now, he forgets that he’s a father, until he is reminded in the most wonderful way. sometimes, your five-year-old will beg to wake satoru up two hours before he has to go to work just so they can play with her dolls together, or she’ll step all over his toes as she squeezes in between him and the kitchen counter while the three of you cook dinner together or like right now, crashing towards him with all the subtlety of a carpet bomb of cursed energy— so eager to show off her costume that her feet accidentally stumble over your heels. 

dressed up as a miniature version of him. 

his lips curve into an instant grin, pressing the button on the screen of the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder to end his current call.  the sound of the higher up scolding him cutting off sharp and abrupt makes his grin widen. they can wait, but his baby girl cannot. twisting in his chair, he catches his daughter just as she collides against him with an audible oof. 

“did we interrupt an important call?” you greet him, a soft smile on your glossy lips as you walk around the large desk satoru is seated at. you pat a hand to his knee before leaning against the edge of his desk. “sorry, i tried to get her to wait.” 

“you kiddin’? nothing’s more important than my two best girls,” he says, tugging at the bottom edge of his blindfold to drag it down, his expression playful as he watches his daughter copy him. she hurriedly removes her own blindfold, a tiny scrap of cloth covering her summer blue eyes. 

“so who are you?” he teases her, twitching one milky brow at the bouncing toddler in front of him. “where’s princess? did a curse finally eat my snotty kid?”  

“i’m the strongest!” your daughter chirps excitedly, crisscrossing two baby fingers to mimic his domain summon. 

your bitty sprout is so precious with her tiny white curls, tied into two space buns and her black blindfold that she scratches at with the back of her fist. not to mention, the bottom half of her cherub face is covered by the high collar of the jacket she’s wearing, identical to gojo’s standard uniform and the result of you staying up all night at your sewing machine, shredding one of his spares into a costume for your daughter. 

looking at her like this, she really is a tinier, stickier version of gojo satoru. 

“the strongest, huh? look at that, you’re already my favorite child. megumi would never offer to take my place so i can retire early.” 

“satoru…” you start, shaking your head in half-hearted exasperation. “when she picks up your sass and uses it against you, i’ll be the first to say “i told you so.’” 

“worried you’ll be outnumbered, mama?” he shoots the words at you, flashing a smile that amusement drizzles from like sweet icing. 

you roll your eyes, and then he turns back to his daughter, reaching down to effortlessly gather her against his broad chest before he pulls gently at one of her fat cheeks, nuzzling her close. “how come you chose to dress up as me, jellybean? it’s not october.” 

“i’m going to a costume party for keigo and haru,” she explains excitedly, her little face brightening at the mention of suguru’s sons. “but mama couldn’t find scarlet witch costume.” 

“oh, ouch,” he whines dramatically, placing a hand over his heart and pretending to be wounded by her open honesty. “wound me some more.” 

“dada, you’re so dramatic,” she giggles at him, and though satoru’s genetics may have overpowered your own for the most part, the roll of her eyes is a trait she learned directly from you. 

“second place is a serious injury, little princess. i should go see if shoko’s awake to make sure i’m not dying-”

“i wanted to dress up as dada because he’s a hero, like avengers,” she cuts him off, so perceptive and honest. your daughter latches on to the collar of his jacket so she can pull his head closer and plant him a slobbery mwah! on his cheek, and if you see gojo’s eyes mist over, glassy ocean blue from tears, you don’t comment on it. 

“down, please,” she requests, grunting and wriggling until he sets her down on the floor with a wobbly chuckle. unaware that her father’s expression has glazed over, his mind spiraling from her words. 

gojo satoru doesn’t even shed tears at funerals, but right now? his eyes flicker to you desperately, and you soften like clouds, nodding silently. 

“sweet pea, the party starts at 3:30 so you have plenty of time to show megumi-nii your costume, why don’t you?” you suggest, giving your boyfriend a moment to discreetly wipe the wet away from his cheeks. sure, he’s seen his students grow into formidable sorcerers that he is infinitely proud of and sure, he may have gotten choked up once or twice while snapping memories of megumi’s important milestones— like his middle school graduation, and that one time he didn’t insult gojo loudly when he picked him up from class in front of his peers— but this…? this overwhelms him, the kind of love he feels right now.

this love… this love is so different, something he’s never experienced before. it’s unlike quick flings brought home from bars, trying to lift the weight off his shoulders for a couple of hours with a pretty face. it’s unlike the near religious idolization from his clan, smothering him with their expectations and obsessive admiration. it’s whole and pure— it’s his family, his true one. it’s you and your baby girl driving away his loneliness like sunlight chases down bad dreams. 

“okay, mama!” she agrees, nodding.

“but go directly to his room. remember where it is?” 

“i remember!” 

“i’ll be right behind you after i talk to your da. don’t annoy megumi-nii too much, ‘kay?” you turn around, opening the door to let your daughter out of satoru’s office and into the long corridor where you watch as she waddles in the direction to megumi’s room. when you can no longer see her, you step back into the office and shut the door before turning to look at your boyfriend. “she’s so excited to go to this party. it’s supposed to be superhero-themed and she wanted to dress up as wanda maximoff, but- are you still crying?” 

satoru barely remembers moving so quick, reaching out to hook one of his strong arms around your waist to pull you into his lap sideways.. he barely remembers cupping your cheeks into his big palms as if you’re his most precious thing, a goddess that carved out a piece of heaven for him to hold here on earth. your body is rounded and soft, a comfort to him when his emotions get the best of him. his eyes, pale blue like the northern glaciers, flicker over your face— to your expression that is more than concerned, and your lips that are parting to ask if he’s okay, and then, he’s kissing you—

you gasp, but your initial surprise melts into love, like a piece of chocolate held between your fingertips for too long, because you know what came over him now. you feel it too sometimes, when you see him bonding with your baby girl. it’s sweet, the way he spells words into those kisses— gratitude, affection, and something a little more primal that you can’t place. 

god, he knows you can feel his tears, saltine as they slip traitorously down his cheeks to pool in between the cracks of your joined lips.

when he pulls away a little, you wipe his wet cheeks with your thumbs, your heart tender from the aches until he ruins the moment by whispering four words against your lips that make your big doe eyes widen to full moons. 

“i want another one.” 

huh.

“are you crazy?” you whisper-shout, laying a fist against his chest to keep him from moving closer and indulging him in another kiss. before jellybean was born, having a child together had not been in either of your wishlists for the future, but two pale pink lines gleaming on your bathroom counter five years ago had changed everything and now, you couldn’t imagine life without her. 

but another one? 

“don’t tell me you’re getting baby fever just because she dressed up as you.” 

satoru doesn’t know what has come over him. he never wanted to have children of his own anyway. it was one of those stubborn pacts he made with himself when he was young and flippant. but seeing his baby girl dressed up as him— calling him a hero above all of his faults and failures— is making him want an entire litter with you, a dream team.

“she said i was a hero. i need to hear that from at least one more little me.” 

“we’re not having another baby just to feed your ego, satoru,” you shake your head. “i mean it so stop giving me that look!” 

“what look?”

“that look, the one that tells me you want to bend me over your desk right now,” you huff, “i have a party to go to.” 

“but she was so cute in her little costume, wasn’t she? we make cute kids, i told you that the first time you let me-” 

“i should have left you at dinner that night.” 

“but you didn’t,” he says, grinning toothily, his long, pale fingers sneaking under the hem of your shirt to tease at soft skin underneath. he’s got you already, and he knows it. “just like you ain’t gonna leave this office without another baby in you.”

꒰ LOLLYNOTE ꒱: waaaah, i hope you enjoyed this lil piece ! this was a bit selfshippy and totally self indulgent but i hope you love it anyways <3 thank you to @sleepygetou for letting me use her darling babie ocs keigo & haru too 🥹

[twilight-orchid]

You’re Going To Be A Grand….Bat

Part 2 to Shower Suprise Part 3

Jason Todd x gn pregnant reader

Word count 2,303

You bounced your foot impatiently as you and Jason sat in the gynecologist’s purposefully pastel waiting room. He watched you look anxiously around the space, your eyes never settling on any one thing and your head perking to every name called. You fiddled with your new engagement ring, a small smile curling into his lip upon seeing it. He held your right hand gently but firmly, his thumb rubbing circles along your soft skin. He slipped his grip up to your wrist, pressing just enough to feel your wild heartbeat racing.

“Hey, look at me doll.” He said lowly. You turned to look at him, your eyes possessing a frantic look and your pretty face twisted with worry. He let go of your hand to cup your cheek.

“It’ll be alright sweetheart. Either way it goes, it’ll be alright. You just gotta stay calm and breathe. Can you breathe for me?” You closed your eyes as you sucked in a shuddered breath, but you matched his in and exhales. You were both 99% sure you were pregnant, that’s not what you were nervous about.

After further deliberation, the two of you had decided to keep the baby. Jason felt nervous, excited, stressed, ecstatic, and terrified all at the same time. He’d spent the whole night reading about the first trimester of pregnancy and researched what you would learn at the first ultrasound. That was why you were nervous.

They’d go over basics: how far along you are, the baby’s measurements, listen to the heartbeat, etc. However, they’d also possibly hear some bad news: Ectopic pregnancy, developmental screenings, and genetic abnormality screenings are what had you stressing. Of course, chances were everything would be fine, but the couple was still understandably scared.

“Y/l/n?” A nurse called from the now open door. Jason squeezed your hand then stood, grabbing your bag and following you into the office. She confirmed your identity, took your height and weight, then led you into a small room. She had you sit on the cold blue exam table, the paper crinkling as Jason helped you up. He took his place at the chair by your side then once again grabbed your hand. You met his eyes and smiled nervously.

“Alright, I understand we’re doing an ultrasound today?” You nodded and she smiled warmly at you both. She took your basic intake info then had you lay down.

“Now I’m just an exam tech. The doctor will be in after to go over the results with you, okay? Pull your shirt up to your bust and relax. Oh, and sorry in advance, this will be cold.” Once you were settled, she squeezed a clear gel onto your bare belly making you shudder.

“Jesus fuck. That is cold.” Jason chuckled. Between the two of you his kid would be cursing like a sailor by 2.

You both watched the technicians face closely for any sign of what she was seeing as she waved the wand along your belly, but she had an impeccable poker face. And, as someone raised to analyze facial expressions, he couldn’t get a read of her at all. Impressive.

The exam thankfully only took a few minutes and the technician quickly departed to share the results with the doctor. Jason grabbed a couple of the cheap, rough paper towels and brought them over. You thanked him with a smile then moved the wipe the slick gel off. He tossed them for you as soon as you were done.

“You okay doll?” He asked. You still looked beyond anxious.

“I’m fine, just impatient.”

“Well that much I know.” He teased. You smiled and smacked his arm. He pretended to be hurt as if Superman himself had slugged him.

“Oh shut up, drama queen.” You laughed. There was a knock at the door before he could respond.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Hall and I’ll be going over your results with you today. I can see you’re both waiting anxiously, so I’ll cut to the chase: you’re 8 weeks pregnant.” The two now confirmed new parents looked at each other with excitement growing on their faces. He squeezed your hand tight.

“Wait, I didn’t finish.” The doctor interjected. The two froze and looked at her nervously. Oh no, was something wrong? She didn’t look like it was bad news though. A slight smile tugged at her lips.

“You’re pregnant with twins.” She said simply. If there were a window in the room, Jason would swear there’d be a bird suspended in air outside the way the world froze around him. You were the first to break the stunned silence.

“No, I’m not.” You denied, disbelief painting your tone. The doctor laughed.

“Yes, you are.” She grabbed a folder from the counter behind her and handed you a black and gray photo. Not just any photo, your ultrasound. The shock of twins dissipated when you saw the two little blobs that would be your babies.

“They’re not very visually developed at this stage, but you can see their little heads right here and this is their body. They’re about the size of raspberries right now. They’re both perfectly healthy so far as we can tell, but you’ll need to come in monthly for checkups.” Neither responded, their eyes glued to the paper. It suddenly felt very real for Jason. Pregnant wasn’t just a word and parenthood wasn’t just an idea; he already had two kids on the way. He had a whirlwind of emotions raging inside of him.

Twins. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, he thought. He heard you sniffle then turned to you to see tears rolling down your cheeks. He was worried for a moment before you wiped them away with a small laugh.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.” The doctor smiled and handed you a tissue.

“It’s alright! Totally normal reaction with your hormones. Congratulations!” Jason still hadn’t said anything. He heard the conversation going on around him, but he felt like he was in a trance.

Twins. Two cribs, two car seats, two beds, twice the diapers, twice the bottles, twice the spit up, and more than likely half their sleep for the next couple years.

“I take it you’re the father?” She asked. Something clicked in his mind, and he looked up to meet your eyes. His head was still spinning, but he knew with you at his side everything would be okay. His signature handsome smile began growing on his face.

“Yeah, I’m the dad.”

You left with a copy of the ultrasound and your 12-week checkup scheduled. Once in the car the two of you made your way home.

“Jay, can I address the elephant in the room?” You asked from the passenger side.

“I mean sure but, we’re in the car and I don’t see an elephant anywhere.” He remarked making you scoff.

“Don’t be a smartass.” You chided. He let out a sigh.

“I know we need to tell Bruce.”

“He’s gonna find out sooner or later, and if you hide it for too long, he’s gonna get his feelings hurt.” Jason barked a laugh.

“You know we’re talking about Batman, right?”

“He’s human, Jay. And he’s really making an effort with you. If you don’t tell him he’s going to think you don’t trust him, it’ll hurt his feelings, and he’ll express it in anger or coldness. Better?” He groaned.

“Fine.” He made the turn that takes you out of the city to the suburbs where the manor was located.

“Wait we’re going right now?”

“I know he’s home right now, and most of my siblings aren’t. It’s as good a time as any.” You didn’t say anything, just squeezed the hand he had resting on your thigh.

“Can you let Al know we’re on the way?”

Telling Bruce had been an issue dancing around his mind just as much as the pregnancy itself. He didn’t expect B to be mad, but he doubted he’d be happy about it. For someone who had a small army of kids himself, B had been very clear about how dangerous it is to bring kids into their world. Plus, Jason had always said Bruce should give criminals the safe sex talks he and his siblings had received. The awkwardness alone would probably set them on a better path.

The manor was only about 20 minutes away from the hospital, so you reached your destination quickly. Which was good, because Jason’s nerves were already shot by the time you arrived. Alfred had clearly been waiting for you as the door was open by the time they were on the stairs.

“Master Todd, y/n, it’s good to see you both.” Alfred greeted with a smile.

“Hey, Al. Where’s B?” Alfred scoffed.

“Where he always is.” The trio made their way through the manor, into the study, then descended into the cave. Being that it was only 11am, they found Bruce in his street clothes typing away at the Bat-computer, his back to the entrance.

“Hey, B.” Jason greeted as they got closer. Bruce looked up from his research and turned to them with his universe famous resting bitch face.

“Jason, y/n.” He acknowledged with a nod before going back to his case. The couple looked anxiously at each other before Jason cleared his throat.

“B, we uh… we actually need to talk to you.” Jason said tentatively. That got Bruce’s attention.

He fully turned away from the computer to face you. You stared at the floor, your hands fiddling anxiously with the hem of your shirt. Jason looked him in the eye, but his face was controlled, intentional. He gripped a folder in his hand with white knuckled strength.

You were both nervous as hell.

He noticed the new ring on your finger, but you weren’t here to announce your engagement. This was something else. Something important that affected you both, that clearly involved Bruce, and that you were anxious about.

“Excuse me.” Alfred said with a small bow, dismissing himself.

“Actually Al, you should stay.” Jason added. Bruce and Alfred both raised a brow to that. There were several potential options mulling around Bruce’s mind, but one stood out as a prominent possibility.

“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.” He said, still painfully deadpan. You both froze, head snapping up like deer in headlights. Shit, you were pregnant.

“Are you serious?” He asked, his voice sterner than he meant it to be but he didn’t bother correcting himself. Jason approached and handed him the folder, then took a step back to your side, placing a reassuring hand on your hip. Bruce flipped it open with Alfred peering over his shoulder.

Bruce had never been there for the pregnancy of any of his kids and had never really been around pregnant people for any extended periods of time, but he knew what a sonogram looked like. And he also knew there weren’t typically two fetuses in the picture either.

“My god, you’re having twins?” Alfred exclaimed. The couple both nodded silently. Bruce sighed.

“After all the talks I had with you boys…” He muttered.

“We used a condom!” Jason defended.

“And birth control.” You added. Bruce groaned and ran a hand over his face.

He looked at Jason, his son. His son that had been through hell and seen the world at its worst. His son who died and was brought back angry and crazed. Bruce’s greatest failure. His son who went on a killing spree, following his own vengeful sense of justice. His son who, after everything, was trying to be a better man. He was a better man. A man who controlled his anger, who was denying vengeance for justice, who had settled in with a partner and really began building a life for himself. Bruce wasn’t the sort to load praise, he found words useless and pretty, so he preferred actions. However, he was proud of Jason in a way unique to his children. And now his son, whom he once thought lost, was having two kids of his own. Bruce sighed again.

“I’m not even 50 and you’re making me a grandpa?” He asked, the slightest quirk at the corner of his lip. The couple paused; a loading screen might as well have been floating above their heads.

“So you’re…” you began.

“Not pissed?” Jason finished. Bruce scoffed.

“No. You’re adults, you can make your own decisions.” He said plainly but paused.

“And, for the record, I think you’ll be great parents.” With that he turned back to the computer and set to work again.

“Oh, and congratulations on the engagement.” He yelled over his shoulder. You furrowed your brows.

“How did he- oh, right. World's greatest detective, I forgot.” Bruce snorted to himself at that last part.

“My congratulations to the both of you. How far along?” Alfred said as he approached the new parents to be.

“8 weeks.” You answered smiling brightly, your hand moving to your currently unchanged belly. Something warm lit in Jason’s chest.

“Well, I wish you luck informing the rest of the family, I’m rather thankful we don’t have neighbors. They’re sure to cause quite the ruckus in their excitement.”

“You think they’ll be excited?” You asked anxiously. Jason knew you were worried about your place in his massive and chaotic super family.

“Oh, babe, they’re gonna be through the roof. Two babies? You kidding? There’s gonna be a war from day 1 to be the favorite aunt or uncle.” You smiled, your nerves dying down.

“Everyone will be together for dinner tonight, perhaps you could join us then? I’m making tortellini.” Alfred tempted. Jason suddenly looked like a kid on Christmas.

“Oh, babe, we have to do it. You’ve never had Al’s homemade tortellini, absolutely killer.” You laughed.

“I guess we’ll see you for dinner tonight.”

Note: I know, I knoooow the twin trope is overdone but the image of Jason trying to juggle two toddlers is just too good. I have one more piece drafted then I may write the whole family reveal, but I’m anxious to write that many characters at once. Also I know I have a pretty nice Bruce, but I don't feel like Batman as a character needs to be an absuive ass to his kids to be himself. And again, I'm a new writer so I'm sorry if it's bad lol. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!

[astemaker]

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[thezombieprostitute]

Hummingbird - Epilogue

Summary: You didn't want to break into someone's party but you were desperate to see the art at the gallery before it was gone. You're so busy trying to make sure no one sees you that you miss the ever present gaze of Steve Rogers who is wondering why you crashed his party.

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: This takes place after Sparks Fly & Changing Minds. Reader is AFAB. No physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Implied violence, Pregnancy and related topics. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 8

Series Masterlist

“It really feels like we’ve invited a lot more fights to our doorstep,” Sam sighs. “Between our people messing with Clark Kent and helping a witness against Wilford & Gilliam, then hiring said witness, we haven’t done ourselves any favors.”

“There aren’t any direct ties to us,” Steve retorts. 

“None that would hold up in court,” Bucky offers. “But people know.”

“Our Garbage Men have kinda gotten out of hand,” Sam huffs. “They’re supposed to clean up messes, not make them.”

“I don’t know about that,” Steve objects. “They’ve been doing what they need to. Well, maybe Nick. I’ll give you that he screwed up a few things. But even then, he’s done the impossible and made a dent in the Man of Steel. A dent we can take advantage of.”

“I’ve already got Union Reps and supporters at work at his factories,” Bucky nods. 

Sam adds, “I’ve also got some reporters on tap, eager to add to the case against Kent, should any hint of union busting come up.”

“Wilford & Gilliam were already at odds with us,” Steve comments. “But they’re clearly on the way out. We just need to be extra careful until they finally topple.”

“Franco the Elder needs to be stopped,” Sam curses. “He’s been on a rampage and the other families are looking to us to deal with him since one of ours set him off.”

“Can we get Nat to take him out,” Steve ponders.

“I’ve already got G on the scent,” Bucky assures. “He’s a lot more affordable and he’s associated with us. Shows the other families we’re working on it.”

“We should probably also prepare for a power vacuum once they finally fall,” Sam adds. 

“The Garbage Men are keeping tabs,” Steve assures. “All ripple effects are being tracked to the best of their ability.” The other men nod in acceptance. “In lighter news, I’ve got promises of support from the Odinson, Wayne and Spector families. Apparently our handling of Lloyd and Rumlow reaffirmed their trust in our abilities.”

Sam snorts, “not surprised Wayne supports us. He and Kent have been frenemies for quite some time. But Spector?”

Bucky interjects, “him and Wilson might be crazy but you can trust them to keep their word. If Spector says they support us, we don’t have to worry about them. If we accidentally piss them off, they’ll warn us before attacking.”

An alarm on Steve’s phone interrupts the meeting. Steve turns it off and stands up, “are we good for today? Anything else pressing?”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Sam assures, Bucky nodding in support. “You go take care of your lady.”

“Wishing you both the best at the appointment,” Bucky agrees.

You try to keep from wringing your hands but you’re all nerves. You were more than eager to start your family with Steve but encouraged him to hold off until after the wedding and after you were both screened for potential genetic disorders. He had the money to cover the costs and you didn’t want to go into this blindly. Something he appreciated and respected.

Thankfully the testing hadn’t been too invasive. Now you just had to wait and you were doing your best to not be a nervous wreck. Unfortunately your best wasn’t great. You kept checking your phone, making sure you hadn’t missed any phone calls or messages. You tried to put your nervous energy to work but that only led to you cooking up a storm in the kitchen, making more meals than you and Steve could eat in a week.

When he walks into the kitchen and sees the chaos, Steve knows he has to do something. He walks up to you, his voice soothing as he calls your name. You’re scrubbing dishes but stop when he places his hand on the back of your neck. 

“Sweetheart,” he intones, “you need to calm down.”

“I’m trying.”

“We’ll be sending people home with food for the next few days to keep it from going bad.”

“I know, I know. I just—”

You’re cut off as he pulls you in for a hug. He knows you feel safest with his arms wrapped around you and you find yourself breathing a little easier. 

“I just want to make sure any kids we have get the best chances.”

“I know, Hummingbird,” Steve hums. “And I love that you’re already considering having more than one.”

You chuckle, “well I can count on you to be supportive and caring the whole pregnancy and while the kid is growing up so. I don’t know, that just makes it easier to contemplate having a couple of kids instead of just one.” 

Before Steve can comment your phone rings and you escape his arms to answer it. The doctor’s words are clear, though your brain has a little trouble processing them. You thank the doctor and hang up the phone. Steve looks at you expectantly.

“We’re in the clear,” you smile as you hug him hard enough he almost loses his balance. “Looks like we’ll be starting up a new adventure together.”

You’re finally back at your apartment, done with work for the day, and you’re still in daze after the phone call from the doctor. Everything feels surreal, like you're moving through thick fog, as you unlock the door. The unreal feeling isn’t helped by seeing your man on one knee in the living room, holding a ring box. 

You freeze at the sight and his cheeks turn a little pink, “I know it’s kinda soon but I also know you’re the one. If you’ll have me.” He looks back at you with those puppy dog eyes you can never say no to.

All you can say is, “I’m pregnant.”

Part 8

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey; @aryhyuuga; @cynic-spirit; @icefrozendeadlyqueen @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ktficworld; @leryg0; @rayofdawnworld; @rebekahdawkins; @texmexdarling

[riddles-fiddles]

The pregnancy scenario is so gorgeous, I love!! And perfect timing, I literally had a dream the night before about having a kid with Leona and Idia (two different dream timelines of the same scenario converging later as a kind of after party). I thought you might get a kick out of my brain’s toy box nonsense :3

The Leona timeline was very sweet, him comforting me after someone attempted to kill me for imperfect human genetics, and then getting me pregnant to spite the killer. Idia was too nervous to kiss me to wake me up from a Maleficent curse sleep. He eventually woke me up and we then had a kid who I think was called Scoot? Started with an S and had a double O in the middle.

At the after party scene, both the kids looked like the Tsums of the father, since my brain struggles to render babies in sleep XD But the fathers were both thrilled and proceeded to show them off to everyone around them!

Honestly this is so cute anon!!! You're making me want to write more domestic scenarios with the boys,,,

Leona knocking you up in spite from the killer is so him lmao but ohhhhh think if the killer was hired by his parents to erase you out of his life. Just makes Leona more possessive of you, so when you finally grow a bump visible enough he'll be walking around with his hands always somewhere on your body, making sure to let everyone know you are his most perfect human mate (and he'll personally throw hands at anyone who even dares look at you with any hint of disgust or mockery). When the baby arrives, Leona is so lively - his lazy demeanor never truly leaves his soul, but at least now he has one motivation to get up from bed and slack off - especially if it's a girl! I can totally see him being such an endearing girldad, the type to make feminine voices when playing house and always getting so invested when throwing fake tea parties, also gets his daughter the biggest unicorn on the fair, no matter if he needs to go through some ridiculous game. Either be it a girl or a boy, Leona's favourite thing to do is go to small walks with his baby on his shoulders, squealing in excitement from all the stimuli around them, teaching them about everyday things like what is a butterfly, why birds chirp, and so on. You could say your child really did bring a light to Leona's life.

Idia... he wants to give the baby an unique name, or something regarding the online games or otaku media he consumes, but all you need to do is bat your eyelashes and hold his hand in a death gentle grip to sort his mind out of this idea. Idia's very nervous and overly cautious around the baby, always, and easily freaks out from the smallest ractions - when the baby sneezes, when they cough, even innocent, bright squeals sends him spiraling into an anxious coma. He's horrified of the idea of accidentally dropping his own child or just hurting them in some way, so he's always with a firm grip around the head and body, sustaining them even with trembling hands. He's very dedicated though, so Idia is always close to them, literally. He'll have the baby secured against his chest in a baby carrier while gaming, sometimes making effect sounds to amuse them; you know they truly are Idia's child from the way they look so enthralled to the screen, curious eyes scanning every move, every change of scenario like they're actually understanding something. He finds it annoying to go out in public with them though! His child is just so freaking cute with their cheeks so rosy and squeezable every stranger wants to talk and cuddle them, making Idia feel proud and at the same time mortified, fighting the urge to just turn heels and run back home as fast as possible. Idia doesn't care what gender his child is, but you can be sure he'll want to dress them in gamer onesies and clothing. 'Player three' and 'level 1 human' kinda shit, you know? But he will neeeeever admit he's doing it because he secretly finds it cute; god forbid Idia Shroud enjoying something so normie. Cringe.

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 4

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Donnie's always working on something like in this week’s chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

“Okay.”

You looked over from where you were adjusting the collar of your shirt.

“Technically your cycle started six days ago, but marking today as the first cleared from your period.” Donnie spoke with a litany of screens about him.

“It was a long one…” You ruminated. “I hate when it’s just bloody discharge those last few days, like just empty out already.”

Donnie nodded and paced with his circle of screens moving fluidly along.

You noticed a few purple Tetris blocks mixed in amongst the technology and walked closer to get a look at them.

“With your permission I’ve taken an average of your cycles to work off of.” Donnie paced away from you without noticing.

You gave chase.

“As you have cleared, I’ve been examining you daily through the entirety of approximately your last three cycles. That paired with menstrual data that was passively collected, I can accurately map out our schedule.”

You got close to one floating purple block, but Donnie neared a wall and, like a Roomba, rotated away to go in another direction.

“We then take into account your clinical OBGYN visits. Your gametes are considered in a good health range. Mine are in a similar state per my personal evaluation. It is only combining our genetics that interferes now. Consider we are tethered to probability, following your ovulation gives us the best chances of conceiving.”

You watched his path and waited for what direction he would bounce towards next so you could intercept.

“My sperm appears to have a similar lifespan to that of a humans’. That’s a three to five day window in which they can survive in your reproductive system. To best maximize our chances, we should keep you filled just prior to and during your ovulation. Hence the necessity of your menstrual schedule.”

He trended towards the bed and you frowned because that would send him right back out into the bedroom proper.

“Now, we could use the plug, but that was meant as a sexual device. There is no need to keep you full of seminal fluid which only acts as transport.”  

You saw mental images of Pong play out and realized he would soon be heading straight back towards you.

“A more useful and adjacent device would be a conception cap, but I wonder about its necessity as my sperm are tenacious…”

You adjusted your stance and waited.

“We can reconsider going forward if our current methods don't prove fruitful.” He made the final pivot in your direction. “For now, we will begin with this schedule.”

Before he reached you a calendar appeared in your face.

It marred your vision and kept you from seeing those strange fragments.

You gave a small sigh.

“Something wrong?” He swiped your screen to the side so he could better see you. “I debated a separate calendar from our usual, but it made more sense to combine them. Why waste time going out to dinner when we could put our hours to better use filling you with my seed?”

Your stomach flipped and you almost forgot about your other quest. “T-that’s not…”

He waited.

You shook your head and further moved the screen to step into his space.

Holograms broke up around you and you reached out toward the floating oddities.

“What are these?”

Donnie’s arm lowered and, with it, his screens collapsed. “I have been pushing the limits of my ninpo.”

“This is your ninpo?” You tapped the small block and it was indeed solid.

“Yes. My mysticism forms via construction. It is what I understand. However, it is also a manifestation. I have reason to believe that I can integrate it into my technology.”

“You want that?” You cupped your palms under it as if to hold the pieces. “Your tech is amazing. Would the ninpo make it better?”

“My screens now are hologram projections. They come from a knowable source. Though they are expertly encrypted, there is still a chance they could be hacked. Mystic technology, in theory, has no system to stem from. It is being projected from my very being. A completely uncrackable network!”

You sought Donnie’s eyes with growing amazement. “Oh… When you put it like that…”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I can replace everything with complete safety.”

Within your palm, you watched the pixels shift ever so slightly.

“However, data is intangible. While you say you build a system, you are instead writing the basis for it. I can visualize the code, but not its weight. There is a current disconnect between such so I have a simple form of a router up for the time being. I am feeding the connection from my tech gauntlet through my ninpo before it reaches the usual old screens. I am hoping it will help inspire said information to display as if it were a computer and I can then cut out the middle man.”

“Your gauntlet…” You let the ninpo go and moved to touch the device on his wrist.

“I have no plans to stop wearing or using it. My ninpo requires focus and tapping energy of which I have little stamina for. It is another facet of the router manifestation. Raphael described mystic arts as any other muscle to be trained. Thus I try to keep some form of ninpo up when I can and for as long as I am able.”

“Right… The tech’ll be a backup if you’re ever out of commission.”

“I suppose…” Donnie had an interested edge to him.

You fluttered your lashes as you waited for him to elaborate.

He churred into your space, but didn’t make contact. “It’s mysticism. Its rules are infuriating. Who’s to say I am limited in that way? I aim to create lasting constructions.”

“Donatello, my love, always pushing boundaries.” You spoke wistfully.

He lavished in the praise with closed lids before he straightened his posture.

“Speaking of lasting constructions…”

He eyed you and brought the screens back up.

“Let’s say I didn’t hear anything after you mentioned my period being over… How would you feel about repeating everything…?” You grinned.

His patience for you didn’t seem to have a limit though he did have minor scorn as he started his explanation over.

-

You were giddy as you stood outside of your own front door. Adjusting your clothes for about the third time, you debated your entry. You were spoiled for choice, but wanted to make this occasion special. Per Donnie’s planning, today marked the window just before your ovulation. It was the crossroads section in which his sperm would stay alive within you and be ready to inseminate the moment it became possible.

You had both also agreed to stave off sex until today. It was a paltry three day window and you had joked about Donnie saving up. As he was these days, he had bitter corrections for any perpetuated mythos. He was a regular sex ed teacher and explained that while it was possible that certain abstinence could lead to increased sperm counts, the ejaculate would contain older, less agile emissions. It was under his scrutiny that you agreed to only wait to enhance this moment.

A giddy countdown now had you shaking with the thrill and your entry. 

Should you come in sultry and swing your belongings out of the way while announcing yourself?

Would Donnie be waiting to sweep you off your feet?

Would you not make it to the bedroom?

Would there be a line of candles and flower petals guiding your way?

Running through every scenario, you abandoned them all in favor of the door knob. It turned for you and you pushed against the wood. It revealed your apartment and you didn’t immediately notice anything had changed. It looked like your usual home and your lips parted to announce your presence.

Before you could speak, your husband stepped out so he was across from your entry.

He was the picture of dichotomy.

From his posture and squared shoulders, he was ready.

From his stance, he could not be knocked down.

From where his hands lazily flopped back to his sides, it said he’d been wringing them.

From the pinched lines of his face and the faded look to his pupil, he was tightly wound with nerves.

All of him read an equal amount of excited and nervous.

You forgot all about some fancy entrance and moved to your mate.

He accepted you as your bag fell to the ground. His willingness to give himself over read as an emotional scar and you swept over his shirt. It was something plain he’d probably been in all day and, upon finding nothing of note, you coasted up to his cheek. His head tipped into your palm and you felt your affection swallow you whole. “Hello, sweet. You hanging in there?”

“I should have asked you to take today off…” He spoke with sorrow.

“We’re saving that for ovulation day.” You reminded him.

“I know…” His hands trended beneath yours. “That’s why I didn’t.”

You nodded and curled your fingers to pull him down.

He resisted at first, his eyes darting to commit you to memory before he lowered.

He came with a winding and you met him for a kiss.

It struck as mellow in comparison to everything you had seen. He seemed to smile at your confusion and pressed into you to make his intention known. What came then was tenderness, but those nerves still slipped beneath it. You wanted to ask why, but the glowing embers against his lips spoke of how deep his desire was. You imagined maybe he had a fear of how deep his carnal desires could go. He was finally exercising his top kink in its truest form. It seemed obvious that he'd be afraid he might consume you.

It reminded you of an old line from your first date about a bear. It struck you how you had long become equally as voracious as him and you channeled that ferocity. The surge of both your body and emotion knocked him back a step. Drunk off the power to ruffle the master, you pursued him as much as he would allow. He soon got his feet stabilized which meant you were a tiny powerhouse against the pylon of his body. His form held steady, allowing you whatever wanton destruction you craved that wasn’t his person.

It came in the form of his clothes which you twisted up and pulled at. He bent for you, coming down enough so you could yank his top off and knocked his glasses in the process. He chuckled at your need, but gave no recompense. It left you as the one-sided onslaught and you pantsed him in retaliation.

When you came up from shoving his waistband down, he only had an arched brow that sarcastically challenged your childish move.

You tittered at the sight, playing it off. “Here? Couch? Bed…?”

He looked over each spot as if he had all the time in the world.

His bond barely concealed how much his emotion begged to differ.

You put out a sort of sigh and trended to his right.

“I’ve been bombarded with info lately…” You mourned and slid a forlorn hand across his wraps. “Intro to baby making.”

He watched you circle him.

You made sure to keep a teasing digit on him at all times. “A long winded separation ig facts and old wives tales…”

You appeared on his other side and he continued to track you.

“No sex position increases odds, but deep penetration is good. Whatever gets the sperm closest to the cervix…” You stopped at his front and sighed again.

You saw his fingers twitch as he withheld himself.

“Hard to push you into missionary if you aren’t going to help…” You kept your eyes to his plastron and followed scute lines with your fingertips.

You felt his head move as he tried to view your path.

You caught him with his neck bent forward as you snapped your attention up. “You really want to finally knock me up with me on top?”

You watched his pupils adjust to the prospect.

There was the language.

You told him that he was going to participate regardless.

There was the insinuation.

As it had all day, today was the day it was finally teetering on dangerous to fuck.

There was the challenge.

Was he going to be passive?

In one fluid motion, he dropped his center of gravity.

Excitement exploded in your belly and his elbows snapped akimbo. They led as his hands slid up into your shirt in a perfect slide. Smooth prints teased your spine and had you arching as he got to your bra. It took a single trace to the clasp and he barely had to flick to undo it. It was then, with a lift, that your entire upper ensemble was headed upward. You scrambled to lift your arms and just barely saved your chin from catching the fabric.

He hovered over you like a dance and your spine wilted dangerously from how much real estate he commanded. He beamed you a million watt smile before you heard the fabric plop onto the floor. The textures struck you and his arms came down to press into the curve of your back. He kept you safely dipped like a dancer there with one hand while the other danced around your front. It felt over your belly before a single digit found interest in your fly.

It worked expertly with a twist and flick until he was able to undo your trousers. They slacked open in the fold and he skimmed with that single hand around your waistband as if testing its tensile strength. The backs of your thighs burned from the weight distribution and your neck ached from having to hold up against gravity. Donnie only surveyed the curve of your body with faint flicks of his gaze as he instead focused on circling your hips.

With a sudden hook of his thumb, he levied half your bottoms and shoved down. The other side clung and it took a clean swipe from the opposite direction to catch them. He moved in a seesaw that had his thumb nail skimming more sensitive skin as he rocked your pants and underwear down. By the time they fell, your legs were threatening to do the same and only then did he scoop you up.

It was into his arms and you kicked out socked feet in glee as he carried you to bed. He perched you on the edge and the titillation pumped through your veins as he squatted in front of you. It sent you right back to imagery of your first night together and your inner muscles clenched onto that excitement.

“You are well aware of what we are about to get into.”

You nodded.

“Are you ready?”

“Very much so.”

“Show me, love.”

You gathered your knees and adjusted your positions. Already perched, you moved your pelvis forward as your shoulders came back. Your arms compensated for yet another lean, though this one was cushioned by a mattress. It read comfortable as your hands fisted the sheets and you split your legs to present for him.

He took you in with all his senses. It first came with the visual sight even though you could tell you were far from glistening. Excitement had only taken you so far, but he was completely enamored by your sex. He surveyed you with his exploding pupils before he reached, compelled. His warm finger skirted your outer lips and he pressed to see how engorged they were with blood. Arousal meant there was a heated layer and the cooler air of the room lapped at you in time with the way he licked his lips.

You rolled your hips eager and he lowered his head for his next sense. It was smell, and you’d grown accustomed to his scenting. He’d been sniffing you shamelessly in his daily examinations and it always looked to you like a master sommelier. His lips would part, letting the scent inhale deeply through his nostrils and cascade down his tongue. You imagined he picked up all sorts of notes that you couldn’t as he trended closer.

He breathed out then in and it was with one last striking whiff that nosed lightly at your clit. The tip of his beak invaded you for touch and your voice pitched behind warbled lips. He flicked a scolding glance up at you for trying to muffle your noises and when your mouth opened it was to breathily pant. He found that suitable and returned to his nosing. He was scenting, you could tell, but there was no snuffle. It was a slow and even thing meant to relish and, even though you couldn’t see him, you felt the moisture differently when his jaw parted.

You arched in time and met his tongue. A dainty tip, he mapped your folds first as if he didn’t already know your anatomy down to the cellular level. He gave a base level tasting lap and you whined at the lack of targeting. You watched his eyes surface in a rolling fashion and you frowned when you caught sight of him. He smiled against your cunt before pressing into your heat with his eyes still questioning you.

You mewled for him and it seemed like a satisfactory answer because he dove in. You puffed open relief as he licked into you with the accuracy you craved. He long knew exactly how to manipulate you on his tongue and you tossed your head back to give yourself over to him.

You jolted when he suddenly grabbed your feet.

In a tug, he used your surprise to throw you off balance and you fell onto your back. The bed was completely forgiving and you stared up at the canopy for exactly one second before his tongue shifted. He latched onto your clit in your toe tingling way and you barely cared he was still doing something to your feet. You imagined he was operating comical heavy machinery where the levers were your limbs because of the jarring push and pull of his movements.

His things swiped down and he hit some sort of pressure point in both your arches that ripped a moan from you. He slicked downward, dragging your growing wet on his tongue to taste and stimulate you. You squirmed, trying to get more, but he pushed your knees to fold. Your legs came, bent at the knee, and he shifted his weight to pour more over you. It pressed your thighs closer to your torso and you recognized the move even though it had been a long time since he last exercised it.

The mating press.

You chirped wanton for him at the thought and he churred straight into your sex at your revelation. You gave your mating call in aching need, but he demanded a bit more of you. It came with a swirling of his mouth and just enough suction that you could feel your insides weeping. The drip caused an audible pop when he unlatched that you could only hear as the final sense, sound, and he panted from what you imagined was a full assault of his senses. He then appeared, moving to stand in a growing form with your combined soaks painting his chin.

The moment he hit his full height was the same time you saw the bob of his cock. It bounced with him and hung a flag over your sex. You heaved a single time at the sight of it and were struck with one single thought:

This was going to get you pregnant.

A mating call warped off your lips before another slammed it out of the way. You couldn’t stop yourself as it sounded again and again on what hit your ears as a nagging repeat. The pitch was off and feral like a cat in heat. You ached for him, head lifting in the process and he only stared at your wanting form.

“D-Donnie…!” You finally managed amongst his seeming neglect. “P-please!”

He nodded and swept over you in what felt like a final moment.

Like you’d never be like this again.

Like something monumental was about to shift.

He then lowered enough to scoop up under your ass and scoot you forward. It made room for his knees and you continued to call out to him. He shushed you with a sharp mating response of his own and you bit down on your lip to try to stave off more. He was taking too long in his adjustments, but you knew there was purpose. You knew first hand how precarious the position could be. Your body was fully trapped beneath his while also being folded. It contracted and compressed your very being, but also made it so his pelvis could be aimed above yours. It also meant you had a full view of how his cock dangled down, scorched and ready to sear you.

Your vision honed in on the glisten of his member and trailed down where his tip pearled a perfect bead of pre.

Another mating call wormed up your throat which was decimated into a squeak as he pressed his glans to you. The heat felt like a boiling threat and you waited for him to plunge. Instead he continued to cater to his alignment before he rolled his hips so his cock ran against you. On your back and neck twisted in a position to view him, you saw his glans face you before they rolled backwards in their stroke. The oar of them flared there, returned once again, and then disappeared to catch your hole.

You wanted to sob at the torturous pace, but he so close.

“Please!” You shouted in spite of yourself.

He didn’t respond at all and only focused on a testing press.

It wasn’t enough to breach you and you groaned as loud as you could.

He chirped lightly, something faint and weary that you couldn't think much on before he wound upwards once and then descended.

Your eyes flew open and you watched as each delicious centimeter of him sank into your cunt. There was a pulse to your lips that marked the spread and soak as they peeled apart to grant him entry. He disappeared further, feeding into you and beading up your discharge. It cropped a creamy spill that pressed out at his size and clung around your entrance waiting for further use. His member widened, spreading toward the base of the knot and you saw the stretch of your lips grow taut.

He was then fully sheathed after what felt like hours and your head fell back. You panted lightly, all a mental exertion and felt sweat dot your brow. You were rushing, you knew. It was the incessant need and the many years built up to this moment. As he held in place, you saw all the rushing times you’d tried to devour each other. This wasn’t that and spoke to something far deeper. It roused you to be more present and you found him trying to look at your connection. His proportions meant he couldn’t and he lifted his head with the intent of a question pouring off him.

He wanted to know what it was like and you told him that it was quite the view. He churred a vibration that you felt dip inside you. You willed him to know that more would be better and he agreed to pull back the slightest amount. Your cunt clung to him, eager lips dragging against his length and each and every vein in an attempt to keep him. He barely made it a few inches before he plunged back in as if he couldn’t stand the cold room temperature. You chuckled at the thought of that sort of cockwarming and he probed your depths in interest at your laugh.

You almost responded until his ministrations found what he was looking for.

You then only gasped in pleasure and the cage of his body finally fell. He met you in a scoop of limbs and you pulled him closer. Your hips cried at the weight, but he rocked in a gentle massaging gesture. It eased the tension and his lips found yours with a roll of his tongue. He tasted and smelled like you.  Intoxication clouded your mind and you now, finally this moment, would be the time he'd give way to fuck you.

You broke your lip lock to pepper excitement across his face. He scrubbed into it, his beak moving side to side to catch all your little pecks. He tittered in a melodic chirp and joy caused your cunt to pulse. It warped a sound of almost paint off his lips and he melded your pelvises into a single shape as if to squash it.

“Not gonna last…” He whined suddenly.

“That’s…” You spoke before you fully understood his words.

How was that possible? 

He hadn't thrusted even once. 

He held deathly still and you moved your neck to view him.

Humiliation painted his feature and he would have tucked himself away if he could.

Sense exploded past your horny thoughts for the first time. 

He had showed all the signs. 

That's why he'd been anxious at the door. 

That's why he hadn't rushed to fuck you. 

That’s why he had been going so slow.

It wasn’t just to mark the occasion. 

It wasn't because he feared his ferality.

It was a startling amount of awareness that threatened him.

As much as you did, he knew what today was and what it meant. 

It made him so consciously excited that it went straight to his head.

He had been trying to stave off losing himself in a totally new way. 

An excited noise hummed in your throat.

He saw your glee and wilted against it.

“N-no!” You nudged him with your nose. “That’s good!”

“No.” He bit back.

“Yes.” You disagreed and extracted an arm from the tangle.

You found his cheek and he soured as there was an inherent movement that bobbed his cock.

“I can count the amount of times you’ve gotten close to cumming before me on one hand.”

He glared at you as if you’d pointed out his greatest failures.

You lightly pinched his cheek. “You’re so excited...”

He frowned deeply.

You kissed his relenting face. “I love you.”

“Please.”

“I do.” You pressed.

“Y/N.”

“How do my orgasmd work with conception again? I can't remember…” You absolutely did, but your partner was being too cute not to tease.

He ducked his head as much as he could.

You were too close for him to hide. “Donnie…?”

He grumbled something.

“What was that…?” You poked his cheek.

“It doesn’t…” He ground out.

“Then what’s the problem? I know you'll make me cum right after you do. Doesn’t it sound hot to pump your finger into me, push the cum deeper, until I’m writhing on it?”

He relented the smallest bit.

“I'm married to Donatello. Cumming is always a guarantee. It's like your customer satisfaction brand.”

“I wanted us together.”

“We can try… Has waiting helped?”

His grimace said not at all.

You moved your hips the slightest amount and the way his dropped to keep you still meant you felt exactly how he clenched to keep from cumming then and there.

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely cumming first.” You smiled.

His eyes closed, hopeless.

“You’re being a grump.” You kissed his cheek.

He let more of his body weight fall onto you in some sort of retribution, but you could only giggle.

“Come on…” You channeled as much energy as you could muster in your ass before you managed to flex.

Your innermost walls shifted around him and he gave a long sultry groan.

“That’s it…” You managed the same spasm with less effort.

He moaned your name.

“My sweet, sweet husband…” You encouraged, pulsing around him over and over.

“I’m going to…!” He panted.

“Go on. Fertilize me. I'm waiting.” You whispered against his head.

He exhaled sharply and you felt all of him twitch in one sharp movement. Where you hadn’t followed the trend of his spread or knot, they both seemed to inflate to their widest mass in a snap instant as he came. You felt each twitch of him as you weren’t in your throes. You pet his head before stroking  lower on his carapace to encourage him. You hit a spot that made him buck as he filled you deep.

He eventually breathed again, panting from having witheld, and rolled his head to the side to bump yours.

You rubbed his shell with a heavy hand.

He eventually churred at the feeling and lifted up to appraise you.

You smiled, ever ready for him.

His lids fell in a form of annoyance.

“I’m gonna make you cum until you beg me to stop.”

You pitched an excited noise as he yanked out of you. You felt his essence chase his cock and your limbs were released. You clenched immediately, trying to hold his seed in and he glimpsed the tightening of your sex as he climbed off the bed. 

His lips rounded and you saw focus slip from his gaze. You chose then to relax and the rebound flex of your walls squished out his spent. A tiny amount trickled against your labia and you heard Donnie gasp at the sight.

“Finally, right…?” You mused and assumed you were thinking the same thing.

You were finally stuffed with a potent load.

That chance of getting pregnant now existed.

You were both aiming to make it assured.

Donnie lurched forward and you readied yourself for his decree. He would make you cum. You imagined he would play out that scenario you had offered earlier and felt his cum drip to the swell of your ass.

That's where he would start, you thought. He would swipe it up expertly with those thick fingers of his and stuff the seminal fluid or whatever he had called it, back inside. He would then tease you until you were writhing.  

A tongue hit hot and wet against your ass cheek causing you to cry out your surprise. Your thighs were grabbed first before giving hands tucked under your body. He hoisted you up to meet his mouth as if there wasn't enough time for him to dip any lower.

Donnie swiped the trail of cum up and licked it straight back into you. His arms locked heavy around your body just in time for him to bury his snout hard into your sex, he breathed heavy desperation as his canines grazed your labia. Your voice hit a near painful pinch and you fought against the onslaught with grabbing hands.

You caught his mask in the fumble and pulled it so the back half lifted and the front blocked his vision. “What are you doing?!”

He sucked hard and you spasmed.

“Ah! Donnie-!” You meant to say more, but he let one of your legs drop to his shoulder so his thumb could strike your clit.

It was flint to steel, the sparks ignited and you cried his name in a new tone. It was no longer a question, but a burning desire. He slurped down noisily and the noise hit your ears to stoke. You were inflamed, rising up further than he was holding you as pressure dipped in and outward in tandem. His thumb swirled loose and comfortable against the slick and he routinely bumped his own nose.

His tongue traveled deep, seeking further in you than ever before and it marked a widening of his jaw. You felt the whole of his mouth encompass you until it pushed even his hand away. His teeth scraped over your punished clit and you screamed out as it sent you over.

It burned you to a white host crisp and the flames engulfed your vision. He pressed forth, seeking to destroy what was already ash on the ground. With one leg still over his shoulder, you snapped a heel down hard in hopes of stopping the siege. Your foot snagged one of his carapace injuries and scrape was enough for him to grunt free.

Knowing he'd lock back on, you bucked hard in your freedom and pelvic thrusted into his beak. It loosened his grip and you slid back to the bed. He held your single leg to his chest as a lifeline while you scrambled to slip your hands into your abused cunt. You did a quick check for blood as his teeth had been piercing. As far as you could tell it was clear from injury, but you glowered up at your mate.

“What was that!? You ate it?!”

He was the portrait of a captured criminal.

His mask was also still comically out of place and you tore it off him to wipe your hands. “What happened?”

He gave a pitiful chirp.

You swatted him with the wetted cloth.

He squirmed in a way that said its feeling repulsed him.

“Donatello!”

“As you’d expect!” He finally animated. “That I finally had a chance! That what was leaking from you had potential!”

“So you suck the potential out of me?!”

“The sperm is unaffected! You referenced the science prior!”

Your eyes flashed. “And I know it! Are you still mad because I didn’t listen one time?!”

“You act as though I insinuated such!”  

“Didn’t you?!” You stared him down ready to catch the slightest warp in his expression.

He matched you.

You stood off against each other for several seconds before you deferred.

You then both sat in an awkward heap where you were still spread and he was only half on the bed.

Donnie was the first to move.

“May I?” He asked with lowered lids.

You nodded, granting his request, whatever it was.

He was slow in skimming over you and making his journey known. He moved toward the apex between your legs and you presented for him. He took your willingness in with an emotionally wounded gaze that said he didn’t believe he deserved the kindness. You kneed his chin gently as soon as he was within range. 

“It's okay…” 

He wasn't as sure yet and only kissed the cap before shimmying downward until he was on his knees off the bed. He leaned forward, his face to your sex, and you felt him looking you over.

You knew he was checking for injury just as you had and he affirmed your health with a kiss to your clit. The sensitive bud felt tender, but his warmth came away like a balm. You exhaled slow and steady until he reappeared at your side. You squirmed further up the bed and he laid down beside you. You immediately glued yourself to him, cuddling close and leaning up for a kiss. He appraised you once before meeting you and it took several until he relaxed.

“Does that consumption offend you as well?”

You chuckled against him. “No, it just felt a little like a slight. Like you just filled me and you took it right away.”

He eyed you and you could feel his scientific correction was looming.

You pushed his plastron. “You know what I’m saying.”

His eyes closed and he shrugged as he did.

“It wasn't what I was expecting, but it wasn't bad. You surprised me.” You held your hand firm to his pectoral scute and flexed your fingers out. “As usual…” 

His body went a certain slack.

“We done for tonight…?”

He didn’t move as far as you could tell.

“It’s alright if so… I know that whole ‘make me cum until I beg’ line was you trying to make up for cumming too fast.”

His lip twitched.

“It’s really okay. You lost two kinds of control. That's gotta be overstimulating. I just want to set my expectations.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You pressed him.

“Look down.”

Your gaze plummeted southward on contact. 

All that was there was the mattress and your forearm resting atop sheets where it acted as a bridge between your bodies.

You heard a puff of laughter.

Your gaze shot right back up to see him trying to control giggles.

“I did what you said! Why are you-?!”

He couldn’t manage words and joy crinkled his gaze. 

He bobbed and bubbled until he got enough control to flick his pupils down the length of his body. You made a little irritated sound and embarrassment tried to form a complaint on your lips.

He had to cover his mouth. “My mistake. Please look easterly.”

You glowered at him once before glaring in that direction which led down his plastron.

It was the landing strip leading to his pointed purple member. His cock stood at full mass and its pink base had a redder tint than usual. That was typically a shade you only saw during his heat when his member wasn't able to return to the safety of his body. It was nowhere near Donnie’s season which meant instead his erection had persisted. 

The reason for which shot straight to your core. “O-Oh…!”

“It hasn’t gone down since we began…” He managed with a weary tone.

“But you came…?” You reached for his cock and it twitched away once before you made contact.

“As you stated, I am entirely too excited…”

You soothed his glans with a stroke.

They undulated under your grip, starving.

“So…?” That latent heat glowed in your cheeks, still smoldering.

“I can't predict when it'll go down.”

“Will you cum just as fast?” You felt excitement manifest as stars in your eyes.

His expression flattened out a bit. 

“I want you to.” You tinged your words with those ever present embers. “Cum again and again. I want to wring you dry. We’ll go until it calms down.”

He flushed at how eager you were.

“Just promise I can keep it this time.” You pleaded.

“So you do find cum eating offensive.” His attempt at distracting you from his unease was too obvious. 

You shoved him over onto his carapace and mounted him before he could protest.

“Wait-!” He tried to grab your hips.

“Nope. My terms now. You will-” You commanded, got yourself lined up, and sank down his length. “-cum.”

You felt his cock explode on contact with your heat.

“Oh fuck…!” You ground down on his ejaculate.

Donnie whined something high pitched before his throat eked out, “Sworn! No stopping! You call out tomorrow!”

You squealed happily as he rolled your conjoined bodies over to finally fuck you in earnest.

-

You were slow in opening the bathroom door.

It had been hard enough to muster up the energy for you to grab the handle.

Now that you had swiveled it and the mechanism had pulled the bolt back, it felt like painful irony.

One door led to another.

You saw the creak of space that led to your bedroom and with it came the heavy heart.

This was the transition point.

You stepped forward and felt the cotton between your legs.

It was another tangible omen.

It would disappear in time, but for now you were hyperaware.

The aptly named period product marked an end and was sopping up your failure.

One dark red drip at a time.

You walked out to where Donnie was already standing.

You’d left him sitting on the couch.

What had found him first?

The scent or your abysmal feelings through your wedding band?

You didn’t care because either way he knew and as your foot lifted for the next step, he was meeting it with his.

You reached one another, but didn’t connect.

You had to address it.

You stared down at your three feet and one prosthetic.

“Could it… be the implantation bleed?” You whispered as quietly as you could.

It would rob the words of their strength.

Without power, maybe you could convince them otherwise.

You could manifest them into the outcome you wanted and not the one that wasted seven days of trying.

Eighteen days since Donnie had made the calendar.

Twenty-seven days since your new menstrual cycle started.   

Except today it reset to one.

“There… is… a chance…?” Donnie tried, his voice as soft as yours.

You both met each other’s eyes in time.

You knew the truth then.

You hadn't gotten pregnant this cycle. 

These were only words.

It was the same as before.

Nothing had changed.

Not yet. 

1.73%.

💜 NEXT 💜

My body aches today, but my heart always aches with thanks for my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[sensei-venus]

(Unedited)(Cobra Kai a/b/o, Alpha!Hawk, Omega!Reader, Smut, Mention of weird version of wall fucking but not really?, Anon Sex?, Pregnancy, Talk of Breeding, Donation Clinic/Sperm Bank but a/b/o style, Hawk is a broke karate sensei but not Johnny level broke💀) (I'll make a Banner/Header for this bitch at some point) ( @gemini-sensei )

(Part two | Part three tba)

Had this idea about Alpha! Hawk being hard for cash. He recently moved and had a lot of out-of-savings expenses and it was overall just a lot to deal with. He has money from his work at the dojo with Daniel and Johnny but its just not cutting it. He won't be back to his original savings goal for another few months with the way things are going.

One day he is out with some of his alpha friends hanging out. Demetri, Miguel, Tory, and Robby. It's just a little get-together because they have all noticed the way he has been acting, all moody and upset. It's just a bit more than they are used to with him and his moods. They are all sitting around talking when one of them finally just tells him to fess up and tell them what's going on. He gets all pissy but admits that he's borderline broke.

He's hard for cash and things aren't going his way. Everyone is kinda quiet because they get it, Robby and Tory definitely do.

In a last-ditch effort to clear the air and lighten the mood Tory makes a half-ass statement.

“Well if it's that bad why not try one of those donation matting clinics? I heard they pay pretty well for “donations” I heard that if you go to one of the fancy ones, they actually let you fuck the omega recipient ~”

It's a stupid comment but it gets the wheels going in his head.

That would be perfect!

Those places pay out the as for a donation, and in most cases he wouldn't even have to give away his identity.

In the back of his mind he is upset that he won't ever get to meet the possible pup or pups he may help sire. But times are hard and he desperately needs the money. This might be one of his only options to get his bank account right.

That following week he ends up going down the path of donation centers. At first, he's extremely nervous. Mostly with his health background screening because even though he has nothing to his knowledge bad in his medical history, he still has the past with his lip. He fears that that will automatically get him thrown from possible donations.

He's actually surprised when a few days later he gets a call back that he's been accepted and that they already have an omega looking for an alpha donor and picked him, or well his genetic profile out of a huge book of donors. They scheduled him to come to a new facility, a big one at that.

A few days later he shows up and they explain the steps that they will be following during the scheduled event. They make him sign paperwork and so on before anything starts.

They sit him down and explain how things will work.

The omega in question has requested an interactive donation. Wanting a simi-full impregnation environment and feel. The omega will be put on a table that is embedded in a wall, one part of her body is stuck out to his side and the other on the other side. They won't ever have to see each other so it's still anonymous. They have injected the omega with the right hormones to make sure she has the best chance of being impregnated from the donation. He will simply perform the act and then leave, a few weeks later they will test the omega and see if she is pregnant. If so they will call him to come in and pick up his payment and work out the final details.

To Hawk this sounds perfect.

They get him all ready and send him into the completely empty room. The door closes behind him and he feels himself start to get nervous. That is until a plump little lower body slides through the hole in the wall. His eyes are big and his dick is already starting to get hard just from staring. He walks over to get a better look at the omega, or at least a better look at the omega's lower half.

She's soft and thick, nice legs and fat things with a cute little chubby belly that quivers as she Heath's on the other side of the wall. He notices the way she jerks a little every now and then, waiting for something, anything to happen now. He can't help but let his nerves melt a little bit at the sight.

She was probably just as nervous as he was. But in her case she actually really wanted this, she paid to get his donation so she could have a pup. He slowly ran his hand up her leg and over her thighs, his fingers helping to pry her legs apart. Smirking he looked down at her.

Cute fat pussy was leaking and making a mess of the sanitized white table below her. Her hole drooled onto the table top and made a small puddle. Her folds were sloppy and warm covered in her own juices. Even her clit twitched in excitement.

Clearly what every they gave her was making her insides go into hyperdrive.

For a split second he wondered if she could hear him. If the doctors and made it a goal to soundproof the wall or something.

“Hey, it's ok to calm down, just relax and let me make you feel good. I'll do my best to get you what you want, all-round and full with a pup you clearly want. Don't freak yourself out. It's new to both of us.” his mental question was answered when the omega relaxed under his touch and went limp. Taking a deep breath he realised that he could also smell her. She wasn't in heat but that didn't stop him from being able to smell her natural sweet scent. It wafted in from the decently sized gaps between her body and the wall. Clearly put there so that she didn't get stuck or get rubbed too much during the thing act.

It really doesn't take too long for things to start getting heavy between the two.

It's only minutes before he's completely hard and he's done prepping her with his fingers. He would have happily eaten her out but the doctors advised him against it do the saliva factor and sperm.

His dick is hard and weeping once he pulls it out. He marvels at how quickly he was able to get hard after being so nervous but with the smell of the omega and her cute little body, he understands how. Her cunt is prepped and stretched nicely, he takes a moment to suck his fingers clean which has his eyes tooling for a moment. Quickly he goes back to it and spreads her legs. The table is short and at an angle that lets him slide her down just a little bit to allow him to get her in a clear position. It's almost on instinct that her legs spread and wrap around him. He grins a little as his cock rubs into her wet folds in a warm hug. He lubes himself up and slowly enters her.

She's tight and warm around him and it makes his head spin. His belly tights as he presses into her and the sounds she's making on the other side are a bit muffled but only spur him on. Her heels dig into his back once she finally bottoms out. His hips meet her fat mound and her thighs clench around him.

Before long he's fucking into her fast and strong.

It's wet and messy as their cum mixes together with every new thrust. His dick is covered in a thick layer of their cream every time he picks out. Wrapped around him like a vice trying to milk him dry. Grunts and groans fill the air along with high-pitched chirps. His hips drive into hers with wet smacks that fill his ears. His brain is fuzzy as time ticks on and he gets closer and closer.

He never wants this feeling to stop.

But he can feel the way she's clenching and shivering and he knows she's close but so is he.

He also feels the way she tenses in another way, not out of pleasure like he is but out of some other feeling. Something deep down is causing her to hold back.

“Fuck-fuck hold my hand! Just hold my hand omega- let me put this pup in you. Make you a pretty little chubby mama!” his hand grips her fluffy belly, pinching at her rolls. Soon enough they would be gone and replaced by a bump.

At least that's what he was hoping for.

Get her nice and round with a pup.

Suddenly a hand reaches from the hope shaking but reaching out and looking for his. He's quick to hold it, their fingers lacing as she holds into him. Her fingers shake as she tenses up one more time. He can hear her sharp squeal and her pussy clench one more time around him. Her hand shakes and squeezes his own.

Her cumming sends him over the edge as well as he thrusts one more time and his inflated knot pops in and locks them together. Every second a new batch of cum fills her up. Rope after rope pouting out into her womb. His fat knot keeping it all in.

The sound of their heavy breathing echoes through both rooms.

It's less than an hour later when his knot finally deflates and he has to pull out.

It's only seconds later when her hand is forcibly removed from his and she is being pulled from the hole from the other side. All he hears is her small overstimulated whimper as she is rolled out on another table. He wants to climb through that stupid hole and go after her, but he knows he can't.

He's left with his dick out soft and covered in their cream.

After that day he spends hours thinking about what happened. He knows it's stupid.

He had sex with a omega to donate his sperm anonymously.

He wasn't supposed to get attached.

It was just random sex, a one-time thing right? Nothing more nothing less? He didn't even see her face, didn't even know her?

He spends the next few weeks over thinking about what happened. It plays in his head over and over again. He thinks about her hands on his and the way she whimpered under him. The way she gripped at him and clung to him. The way she smelled and how soft and sweet her scent was. It tickled his nose just right.

Those feelings and thoughts don't change for weeks.

That is until one day after his last class of the day at the dojo when he gets a phone call.

It was the clinic.

Telling him to come by and pick up his payment.

He doesn't know what gets into him but he drops everything he's doing after work to get in his car and drive to the clinic. His fingers best on the steering wheel the whole way there.

When he gets there he is ushered back to a small office with the original doctor from before. The woman smiles at him the whole time and gives him a few forms, most of which just talk about his payment and payment method. He signs them but as he finished up he can't help but stay seated.

“So it took? The omega...”

“Yes of course Mr, Moskowitz. You wouldn't be receiving payment if it didn't. We would have called you and told you it didn't so that you knew not to expect the final payment.”

He chews his lip a little.

“Is it- are they healthy?”

The doctor blinks at him, a brow raised.

“You know I can't release that kind of information-”

“Please I- I just want to know that both of them are healthy. Please just tell me that.”

The doctor sighs and pulls out a pack of paperwork from a folder on her desk. She looks it over, eyes scanning over the typed up papers. She sets it down and closes the it.

“All of them are completely fine, the pregnancy looks like it will be completely viable so far.”

For a moment Hawk thinks over the words that he just heard her say.

“What does that mean “all of them”??”

She flicks at the folder for a second before looking back up at him. Her eyes are a bit lazy as she leaves him with one last statement.

“Because the client wished for a natural insemination we didn't have any control over what would naturally happen in her womb, we couldn't exactly level the count of what could have happened during the process.”

It was silent for a moment.

“It's twins.”

[shubhragoyal]

Pre-Pregnancy Counseling: A Stepping Stone to Parenthood

Do you have a baby bump? Yes! Then, before you jump in the air with joy, you should take a look at pregnancy counseling, because expecting a baby requires a lot of acceptance and awareness, and that makes it a stepping stone to parenthood, a path of responsibility and mindfulness.

Pre-pregnancy counseling is a motto that pre-empts the certain risk factors pertaining a women’s, the fetus and neonatal health from entering an unfavorable phase. The one-to-one interaction with the professional can be a great aide in optimizing the health care of mother and child, which also extends to the family ties, as their care is invested from the first days.

Education about the pregnancy journey in pre-pregnancy course is open to all genders, sexualities and parents, as they offer a holistic approach to better parenting. Regardless of whether you are planning a pregnancy or using contraception, the pre-pregnancy counseling is applicable to both parties.

As the saying goes, health status can't be the same forever, over growing time potential risks can occur anytime. Thus, pre-pregnancy counseling does not last for a day, but it occurs several times for ensuring a healthy and happy baby journey!

Day in and out whenever an expectant mother gets counselled, fresh knowledge is added to her advantage for handling the situation. There is a certainty of several chronic conditions viz; diabetes, hypertension, thyroid and mental health require monitoring during pre-pregnancy for a desirable outcome.

In the pre-pregnancy counseling sessions, a crucial assessment for examining STDs is a must with a vivid screening for any probable genetic conditions that might pass down to the life growing inside.

The other important matter of concern here is to debrief on possible strong addictions namely, liquor, nicotine consumption, drugs or any other medicines taken for some underlining or nonmedical reasons.

There is also a significant survey conducted on partner violence during intimacy during prepregnancy counseling as it has entirely a direct impact on the mother and child both.

The expert guidance - Suggestions from the desk of the American College of Obstetrician and Gynecologists

The ACOG institute emphasizes the opportunity to stroke the iron hard and discuss overall wellness, and healthy habits as a routine irrespective of the patient for a successful outcome.

“Would you like to become pregnant next year?” Serves the purpose, of the right to speak out one's heart for suitable guidance without coyness.

The goal of prepregnancy counseling is to ensure a pregnancy that is away from the instructions and if any challenges occur one has the tact to handle it with expert guidance.

An annual influenza inoculation is mandatory for every patient unbiased as it is for additional benefit.

Prepregnancy is not limited to basic health checkups and discussions a patient's lifestyle and underlining conditions are crucial to tap on! If discovered to be a specific virus prone or any infection or allergies due to climate/ certain food types must be cautioned beforehand as travelling is a massive no.

Appropriate nourishment and vitamins are so significant for a healthy pregnancy tenure. Always fall back on your medical adviser for the proportion of food intake that suits your body the best during the prepregnancy period.

Read More: https://www.drshubhragoyal.com/welcome/blogs/pre-pregnancy-counseling:-a-stepping-stone-to-parenthood

[mariacallous]

In October, Melissa began an in vitro fertilization cycle. A resident of Birmingham, Alabama, her fertility journey to that point had been not just difficult, but harrowing—earlier that year, she had nearly bled to death during a procedure to resolve a second-trimester miscarriage. When the IVF process yielded just a single viable embryo, she had it frozen, and a few months later started another cycle. “It’s very easy to lose an embryo,” she says. “This is such a delicate process.”

Melissa has a daughter, born when she was younger, but IVF represents her best and last chance to grow her family. After the Alabama Supreme Court ruled last week that embryos are children, all of that is now on hold.

WIRED spoke with three women directly affected by the Alabama Supreme Court’s February 16 ruling, which stated that embryos are “unborn children … without exception based on developmental stage, physical location, or any other ancillary characteristics.” Fearing legal liability given the broad scope of the language, several of the state’s most prominent IVF providers—including the University of Alabama at Birmingham, Alabama Fertility, and the Center for Reproductive Medicine at Mobile Infirmary—have paused treatments. That means patients like Melissa, who is going by a pseudonym given the sensitivity of the topic, are stuck in limbo, and in some cases running out of options.

“I’m rapidly losing time,” says Melissa. The 37-year-old has an autoimmune disorder that she needs to plan IVF cycles around; her ovarian reserves are low enough that her doctors say she has a window of a month, maybe two, to try again. If the ruling holds for much longer, she may not have another chance.

During IVF, patients take hormone-stimulating medications to trigger their ovaries to release mature eggs. The eggs are then retrieved with a small needle and fertilized with sperm in a lab to form embryos. Sometimes a successful IVF cycle can result in several embryos, but doctors typically transfer just one or two into the uterus at a time. Success isn’t promised; about one in three embryo transfers results in pregnancy.

That makes Melissa’s situation especially urgent. There’s no guarantee that her one embryo will result in a birth. But the ruling has disrupted the lives of women at every stage of treatment.

Lochrane Chase started IVF in August, after nearly a year of trying to get pregnant and using less intrusive fertility treatments, such as ovarian stimulation. The 36-year-old Birmingham native was able to freeze and store over two dozen embryos, of which several appeared viable after genetic screening. An embryo transfer in October resulted in a pregnancy, but Lochrane miscarried a few days later. “It was the saddest I’ve ever been in my life,” she says. She tried again in December; again, she miscarried.

Before another scheduled transfer in January, her doctor noticed fluid in her uterine lining; Lochrane underwent surgery in mid-February to address the issue, and scheduled another embryo transfer for March 18. Despite the uncertainty caused by the ruling, she has started taking the necessary hormones anyway in hopes that the situation resolves by then. If not, the medications would have been for nothing, and she’ll be left with no way forward.

That’s due in part to the severity of the new restrictions on embryos in Alabama. Both Melissa and Lochrane looked into getting treatment out of state as soon as the ruling came down, but quickly found that was an unworkable solution. Companies that transport embryos have paused shipping out of the state while assessing the legal risks associated with the ruling. In a statement emailed to WIRED, a representative from the University of Alabama at Birmingham said the health system is working to identify a company that is willing and able to transport their embryos to another facility as soon as possible: “It is our goal to help patients who are interested in this option do so safely, but—at this time—there are no options available.”

Even if patients could transport their embryos, IVF treatment often requires close proximity with the health care provider, making it infeasible for many.

“You have to do blood work every three days. You have to do ultrasounds. To travel to go do that, it’s almost impossible,” says Melissa. Within 24 hours of finding out that her treatment would be affected, Lochrane had made contact with clinics in Boston, Atlanta, and Winston-Salem, North Carolina—conversations that ended when embryo transportation shut down.

The impact is one of lost time and opportunity, but also of cost. Lochrane says she and her husband have spent $50,000 on fertility treatments so far. Each transfer costs $3,500; each round of medication another $500 or so. For Paula, a 38-year-old Birmingham resident, the bulk of her expenses are carried by Progyny, a fertility insurance company that she has access to through her husband’s job.

Paula, who also asked to use a pseudonym, has already undergone one embryo transfer, in April of last year. It resulted in a miscarriage. She now has three frozen embryos left, and had gotten authorization from Progyny earlier this year to attempt another transfer. That authorization has a three-month window, which expires on March 28. “The concern is, if we don’t do it before March 28, will our insurance do another authorization for us, because we live in Alabama?” she says. “It’s been very stressful. My blood pressure has been through the roof.”

In an emailed statement to WIRED, Progyny CEO Pete Anevski said that health care providers “can shift the authorization as needed,” and that the company “will continue to support its member patients and its network providers in Alabama.”

That support can only go so far, though, as long as the Alabama Supreme Court ruling persists. While all three women have frozen embryos, even that practice may be at risk. One of the many uncertainties of the ruling is whether freezing of embryos will be able to continue. “The cryopreservation of fertilized eggs is an essential component of infertility care at this point, and that whole enterprise is very much threatened,” says Sean Tipton, chief advocacy and policy officer at the American Society for Reproductive Medicine, a professional organization that represents fertility specialists. Using frozen embryos for IVF is not only safe but has a higher success rate than fresh embryos.

It’s also unclear how the ruling will impact the egg retrieval process. About five to six days after fertilization, an early-stage embryo, called a blastocyst, forms. But not every fertilized egg goes on to develop into an embryo. This happens naturally, as well as in IVF labs. Under the Alabama ruling, this scenario could also open up a clinic to a potential lawsuit. “With this legal ruling, the question is, if an embryo fails to develop, will these health care providers be found liable for wrongful death or murder or manslaughter?” says Betsy Campbell, chief engagement officer at Resolve, an infertility nonprofit association based in McLean, Virginia.

In a Facebook post, Alabama Fertility Specialists said it is putting new IVF treatments on hold “due to the legal risk to our clinic and our embryologists,” and is contacting affected patients.

In a statement emailed to WIRED, the University of Alabama at Birmingham said its Division of Reproductive Endocrinology and Infertility is pausing egg fertilization and embryo development because of “the potential that our patients and our physicians could be prosecuted criminally or face punitive damages for following the standard of care for IVF treatments.”

The patients whom WIRED spoke with all shared a sense of crushing uncertainty and anger.

“People don’t understand that when you’re put in a position to make decisions like [IVF treatment], you don’t make it lightly,” says Melissa. “That it sticks with you forever. That it changes you. To have laws that prevent you from making decisions that—as gut-wrenching as they are, as hard as they are—that you can’t make them for the health of your family, it’s an indescribable feeling.”

Even Lochrane, a lifelong Alabama resident, says that the ruling has made her seriously consider leaving. “I feel so powerless in this state,” she says. Lochrane is on the board of local nonprofits, serves as a deacon in her church, and is deeply involved with numerous civic organizations. Her family is here, as are her friends. Still, she says, the last week has dramatically shifted her perspective. “If I could move to Boston and have an opportunity to have a family there but not in Birmingham,” she says, “I would be at the airport now.”

IVF providers, patients, and advocates are hoping that the Alabama legislature could allow IVF to continue in the state. Last week, Alabama House minority leader Anthony Daniels, a Democrat, introduced a bill that would establish that a “fertilized human egg or human embryo that exists outside of a human uterus is not considered an unborn child or human being” under state law. Republican lawmakers are also expected to introduce similar legislation soon.

“We’re hopeful that there will be a legislative fix,” Campbell says. How long that fix takes, though, will have life-altering consequences for many Alabama IVF patients. And if it doesn’t materialize, most will be left with no options at all.

“We have healthy embryos,” says Lochrane. “We just want to be able to have children.”

[flnpushy]

Helios 8 the new experiment

It was now over for Kara, her first baby had been successfully birthed after 60 hours of pushing. She was escorted back to her private apartment within Helios Birth Center for evaluation. This simple evaluation was done after every birth for every mother. It included birthing the placenta and general welfare checks before the mother could be green lighted for her next baby. Kara checked out well and was given a 1 month recovery time before impregnation. As Kara knew she would now be on baby number 2 which was always known as the “challenge” baby. Also Kara had been selected for experimental research with this next pregnancy as well. 

The recovery time had passed and it was 3 hours before Kara was due at the Central Command Research Lab for impregnation. She decided to head down to the main hall to be a bit social since she hadn’t seen any of her friends now in over a month. Kara took a seat in the main hall and it wasn’t long before she noticed a familiar face. Kara moved over to the next table and sat down. She then got the attention of her friend Angel. 

“How nice to see you here.” Kara said.

“Oh, Its been ages.” Angel replied.

“So have you been re-impregnated?” Kara asked. 

“Funny you asked!” Angel said. “Im due in at 13:00 for experimental impregnation.” 

“Oh you to?” Kara asked.

“You get selected?” Angel asked back.

“Yeah, so we are both in for experimental.” Kara said. 

“Well thats good, at least we are together in this!” Angel said. “I just hope we get the same group.” 

“Yeah that would be sweet.” Kara said.

“Bailey got selected to.” Angel said. “Also due in at 13:00.” 

The girls caught up for awhile until it was time to go in to get impregnated. The girls walked together from the main hall toward the Central Command Research Lab. The girls weaved down a smaller hallway toward the end of the main hall, until the room opened up into a mid sized conference room. A screen on the wall said “Please be seated.” The girls sat next to each other in the conference room as other mothers also shuffled in. Kara looked around to see about 100 other people in the room. Just then as the clock hit 13:00 a Central Command Research agent took the stage in front of the room. 

The speech:

Welcome mothers. You have been selected to take part in a Central Command experiment. 100 of you have been chosen based upon metrics data and genetics to take part in this experiment. There are 4 categories of tests that will take place. Your names will appear on screen along with your Helios Number to confirm what group you have been selected for. Group 4 will be the control group. You will be impregnated with your second baby as normal “Challenge” specified semen will be used. You will be birthing male babies around 20-21 pounds. Group 3 will be the Extended Length Gestation group. You will be impregnated with “Challenge” Specified semen and you will be birthing male babies, however your gestation time will be longer, roughly 15-17 months. Group 2 will be Shortened Gestation group. You will also have “Challenge” specified semen and will have male babies. However your gestation will only be 3-5 months and your babies will be roughly 19 pounds or smaller. Finally the main experiment group. Group 1 is the main focus of this experimental mission. You will be impregnated with special “Challenge”semen with some minor genetic alterations. It has been asked upon by the Council of Worlds that a demand for stronger and more capable youth is needed for a new project. These babies will grow faster and mature much quicker. This however comes at a price. The babies will be large at birth. Very large. your male babies will be roughly 25-30 pounds at birth and will gestate for 13-14 months. You will now be selected for groups based upon metric data. 

The Agent left the stage and a Female entered. Dr. Karens appeared. 

“Hello everyone, its time for our selections. This is new territory we are entering here. It could be risky or even dangerous, but we must answer the Councils call.” The doctor said. 

Group 4 is now displayed on the screen. The group 4 selections got up and walked to their selected room. Group 3 and 2 were next. Kara and Angel were still not called. Bailey however was selected for group 2. Kara and Angel had been selected Group 1. The girls got up and walked over to the room.

In the room was a conference area where everyone could wait to be called in. Kara and Angel sat next to each other. 

“So we have group 1?” Angel asked.

“Yeah, huge babies.” Kara replied.

“Wow, I thought my first was hard enough to push out.” Angel said.

“Thinking the same.” Kara replied. 

“Oh well, we are here now.” Angel said. 

Dr. Karens entered the room. 

“Ok girls, lets begin with some ground rules to make sure the experiment goes correctly.” She said. 

“First off, we will monitor you throughout gestation regularly. During birth, you will have to birth in selected gardens and pools in order to keep track of and monitor birthing progress. Please adhere to there rules for your safety. You will be birthing very large babies and its critical that we keep track of your progress. We expect birthing to take upwards of two weeks, hence why your metrics have been analyzed to ensure your body can handle this stress. We will update and instruct you as gestation and birth occur. You will be allowed to roam the facility as usual until your birth begins, then you must report to the correct garden for Group 1.” 

Dr. Karens turned and headed to the impregnation room. The screen in the room lit up and began calling in individual group members. 

“XB109 Angel” 

Angel was first called. She looked back at Kara and smiled. About 15 minutes passed. 

“PY302 Kara” Came on the screen. Kara got up and headed in. She walked through a small door and into a lab room. In the center was an operating bed. Three agents were in the room. She was motioned over to lay back on the bed. Kara did as she was told. Karas arms were put in little side stirrups. She then was spread open by an agent and her legs were put into stirrups as well. Kara was now prone and spread wide, ready to receive. One agent pressed a button and Kara’s arms and legs were now restrained. Another agent grabbed a semen straw from a cooler and loaded it into an injector. Kara noticed the semen straw was quite full. The tube that contained the liquid was red and on the side of the tube read “CHALLENGE 1304.” The agent applied lubricant to the injector tip. Kara felt the cold injector enter her. So very cold it was. The agent slid it in until it stopped right up against Kara’s Cervix. The Tube was then slightly inserted into the cervix. 

“Ok PY302, you are about to be impregnated.” Said one agent. 

The injector was pushed, Kara felt the cool liquid fill her. 

“Mmmmmm.” Kara muttered in discomfort. 

Next Kara’s legs were released but not her arms. An agent grabbed her legs and began moving them around in a pedaling motion. 

“Just ensuring the semen travels nicely inside of you.” The agent said. 

Kara was then released. 

“Ok you are now impregnated, We will check on you in a couple weeks to ensure that the baby has started developing in your womb.” Said one agent. 

Kara got up and walked out of the room. On the other side Angel had waited for her. 

“Ok well i guess we are pregnant?” Kara asked. 

“Well kind of, the semen has to do its job.” Angel said. 

“Lets keep in contact, Stay close through this.” Kara said. 

“Most certainly.” Angel replied. 

The girls split up and went back to their private apartments for ordered bed rest. The semen would now do its job and get the girls pregnant. 

Two weeks Later: 

Kara was awoke by a door alarm. 

“Central Research Checkup.” 

The door opened. It was Dr. Karens. 

“Hello Kara, we are here to see if you are indeed a pregnant mommy!” She said.

Kara played back in bed and spread her legs. Dr. Karens came over and inserted a probe into Kara’s vagina. 

“Good Girl.” The doctor said. 

Data started to read out on the probes screen. Then the probe spoke.

“Pregnant.” 

Dr. Karens removed the probe. 

“Ok Kara, your pregnant, See you soon! “ Said Dr. Karens leaving the room. 

Kara looked down at her flat belly. She knew it wouldn’t be flat for much longer. 

[bellamonde]

Iranian plainclothes forces have abducted Dariush Farhoud, an 85-year-old professor of medical and clinical genetics known as the father of Iran’s genetics.

According to reports, Farhoud was arrested by the security forces at his home Sunday morning, and there has been no information about where and why he was taken.

The renowned scientist had earlier criticized the Islamic Republic for its violation of women's rights. Earlier this year, Farhoud criticized the regime’s plans to ban pre-natal screening and legal abortions, describing them as violations of human rights. He called them a backward move to 200 years ago.

The government's population and family planning policies include a ban on contraceptives, vasectomy and tubectomy, and prenatal screening for genetic abnormalities and congenital diseases.

Moreover, the Islamic Republic has passed legislation to outlaw tubectomy, vasectomy, and the free dispensation of contraceptives other than where pregnancy would threaten a woman's health. The health ministry has advised women over 35 to wait only a year before becoming pregnant again and under-35s to wait six months.

The new legislation would also increase sexually transmitted diseases by restricting access to condoms.

[findroleplay]

Greetings,

I am seeking a partner for a roleplay based on The Last of Us. I have played through both video games multiple times and I have watched the TV show through multiple times. I consider myself well-versed in the fandom. I do not require that my partner has the same knowledge of the world. I just simply wanted to explain that I am capable of writing content from both the game or the show. I am over the age of 18 and require that all partners will be the same. I am seeking something a little bit different here for this fandom. I am actually looking for someone to play as Anna, Ellie's mother. Before I get into my ideas, I wanted to include that I am willing to do doubles. I am willing to play Joel, Ellie, or anyone else that you desire from the fandom. All you have to do is ask! Now, onto my idea. I am hoping to play a male OC, who would be Ellie's father. There's a lot we can do here because limited information is provided about her parents. I always find it intriguing to play out character stories who did not have much screen time - plus, I adore Ashley Johnson (actress who plays Anna in the show).

Who exactly is my OC? Well, I tend to prefer happier romances. So the OC that I create would have a healthy romance with Anna. They could even be married. A lot of his creation is open-ended. I will even let you tell me if there's a specific face claim you wish to see and make it happen. I can provide more info about him when discussing this story. The most pertinent bit of information we have to deal with is Anna's infection. In the show/game, we know she dies shortly after giving birth to Ellie and that the bite itself is pivotal to Ellie's immunity. I will admit that this idea would end up twisting around some of the lore of The Last of Us and I hope that's okay. It'll be like a slight AU. But I have a couple of ideas on how to deal with this. Obviously, Marlene will have to opt out of shooting Anna for this to work, so that is a given. Option 1: What if Anna is immune as well? Ellie's immunity is simply passed down genetically from mother to daughter. Option 2: What if Anna's immunity is directly related to being pregnant while being bitten? I am not going to pretend to be an expert on human biology, but let's just say that the pregnancy allowed the cordyceps to grow inside of Anna just as it did for Ellie. So, where does the male OC come in? And if he's such a great guy, why isn't he beside Anna while she's giving birth? I figured that she was running in the beginning of episode nine because things have not gone according to plan. Maybe their settlement was decimated by raiders or FEDRA or infected. The OC had to go out to the frontlines to help defend his wife and unborn daughter, but the Fireflies were struggling mightily. The enemies manage to penetrate their safe zone and Anna is forced to flee on her own because staying put is not an option. The OC is separated from the group as well. Perhaps that house she ran to was a house where she and her husband had decided they would regroup if anything went wrong. And clearly things did. Days pass and he finally shows up at the house to find Anna bitten, but not turned. Obviously she's not in great shape, she's weak, and needs some help, so before they can even think about trying to find their daughter again, she needs some serious medical treatment and thus is our jumping off point for the story. I think it would be so much fun to write out. I'm also all about long-term roleplays, so once the story progresses into the future, we could absolutely look at having a family reunion with Ellie and her parents too! I know this post is running on quite extensively now so I will just wrap everything up. Apologies for the length, but I have tons of muse for this and can provide more information upon request. Please react if interested. Thank you!

-

[foolondahill17]

"Smoke on the Water” blares from his phone. Dean picks up without looking at the number.

“Found anything, dork?”

“I think I figured out why the Amazons are choosing the men they are,” Sam says.

“Shoot.”

“They’re, well,” Sam’s voice goes a little lower, like he’s overcompensating for his discomfort. “I think they’re in a breeding cycle.”

“A what now?”

“They’re mating,” Sam clarifies. His voice levels to a more rehearsed tone as he reads from his book, “Amazons are an entirely female-orientated society. They have no use for males except for the preservation of their species. Every two years, the Amazons were said to mate with a few chosen human males, likely selected for desirable genetics. Part of this procedure, like the infamous Black Widow Spider, involved the disposal of the male after implantation. The murders were likely highly ritualized, meant to pay tribute to their mother, Harmonia.

“It makes sense,” Sam switches back to his normal voice. “All the guys killed so far have been in their thirties, otherwise healthy, and fairly good looking – all prime criteria for a mate.”

Dean’s not listening to Sam anymore. He’s covered in cold sweat. Did he and Lydia use a condom? He can’t remember. Why the fuck can’t he remember? He always uses a condom. Not since he was a dumb kid –

Unbidden, the face of the little girl at Lydia’s side – Emma – rises to the forefront of his mind. But that’s stupid. That’s beyond ridiculous. Even if – it didn’t – but even if it did, Dean knows how pregnancy works. There’s no way –

“Dean?” Sam cuts through Dean’s racing thoughts. “Are you even listening, man?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. His voice sounds weird. Does his voice sound weird? He doesn’t want Sam to know something’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong. Dean can’t bother Sam with this; his little brother’s got way too much on his mind, already. “Just bushed. You heading back soon?”

“Gonna make a few copies, first,” Sam replies.

“Great,” Dean says, barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth. “Great, yeah.”

His fingers tremble too much to find the right spot on the screen to end the call. He hears Sam hang up through the line, and, another minute, the disjointed dial tone before his phone goes black in his hand.

It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine. Dean’s just overreacting. Maybe Sammy’s not the only one who shouldn’t be hunting. He paces long trenches into the motel’s carpet. He rubs his palms against his face, wishing he could erase the thudding panic in his skull.

It takes him a minute to realize someone’s knocking on the door.

Dean’s worked up enough that he’s convinced he’s going to see Lydia on his front doorstep, so he’s thrown for the loop when he looks through the peephole and finds a teenage girl standing there. She’s got long, honey blond hair and wide green eyes. She looks innocent enough, but Dean’s not stupid. He sticks his gun in the back of his jeans before he cracks open the door.

“Who are you?” Dean asks.

“Please,” she says, voice tremulous, eyes filled with tears. “My name is Emma. And I need help.”

It’s a coincidence. It’s some kind of sick joke. This isn’t happening. None of it makes any sense.

“Emma,” he says slowly. “Why do you need help?”

“They’re after me,” she whispers, voice convincingly horrified. “Please. You’re the only one who can help me.”

“How do you know who I am?” Dean asks curtly. He only opens the door wide enough to stick his head into the parking lot. There’s no sign of danger, no indication she’s been followed. Incongruously, she has a pink rolling suitcase leaning against her leg.

“They talked about you,” Emma explains. She brushes a stray tear away with her sleeve. She’s wearing a light denim jacket over a pink t-shirt and black jeans. She looks like a kid. She doesn’t look like a monster. She’s just a kid. She looks – she looks – “They said you were a hunter.”

“Yeah?” Dean breathes through the tightness in his chest. “Well, I am. And give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hunt you.”

“Don’t you know?” She swallows heavily. Her eyes are very green. Except for the hair, it’s like Dean’s looking into a mirror at his sixteen-year-old self. “Haven’t you guessed?”

“That’s not – that’s not how it works, kid,” Dean chokes out.

“Please." More tears rush down her cheeks. “You don’t understand what they’re like. They kill others who run away. Look – they hurt me!” She shakes her sleeve up her wrist, revealing an angry red burn on her skin. Dean immediately thinks of the marks Sam left on his own arms, until he recognizes the outline of the same mark cut into the victims’ chests: Harmonia's symbol. “You’re the only one who can help me,” she repeats. “Please. You’re my father –”

The word sends an electric shock up Dean’s spine, leaving his body tingling and numb. It takes two tries to open his mouth.

“Get in,” he says sharply. “Just – just sit there. Don’t move.”

Emma does as he says. She crosses into the room, suitcase bumping after her. She drops one thigh onto Dean’s bed, no longer crying, but face still red. She watches him through her large, familiar eyes.

Keeping an eye on Emma, he crosses the room and fumbles in his jacket, slung over the back of one of the chairs. He finds his flask in a pocket. He takes a swallow, needing to steady himself, but the whiskey just burns with the rest of the steady thrum in his body. He’s a live wire. He can’t think.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees a flash of metal.

“Drop it,” Dean says, spinning around in one smooth motion. He points his gun unflinchingly at Emma’s chest. Her knife, raised overhead, flashes in the lamplight. So, it wasn’t the mothers who disposed of their mates. It was the kids. Some perverted coming of age ritual, maybe.

Emma smiles. All hint of vulnerable little girl is gone, replaced by a calculating coldness that makes Dean think of Lydia, even if he can’t recall a moment where she wasn’t anything but syrupy warm with him.

“They told me you’d be on your guard,” she says, lowering the blade but not letting go. “I needed to be creative so you’d let me in.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Dean says. His voice is weak even in his own ears. God, he’s pathetic. What would Dad say? John Winchester would spit on the ground Dean walked on. Dean’s so stupid.

Emma laughs. “You think I have a choice? This is a my birthright.”

“You always have a choice,” Dean croaks. “Please, Emma, this doesn’t have to be you –”

“Be quiet,” she hisses and lunges. She predicted right: Dean’s too stunned to shoot. He dives out of the way of her blade. It’s a wicked looking curved knife. It’ll have no problem at all slicing through bone.

She’s quick. And she’s strong. She lands a one-handed hit to Dean’s shoulder and Dean crashes to the floor under the table. His head knocks against the mini fridge. His vision spins.

Twenty-nine years of hard-won instinct never to let go of his weapon means he hasn’t dropped his gun. He raises it again. His finger finds the trigger –

He sees Ben, lying in a pool of blood at his feet. Joey’s blank eyes staring at him. Ryan’s small body curled in death on the floor. Bobby John’s muffled sobs cut short. Sammy choking for breath under Dean’s hand. Dean can’t – she has his eyes. And Dean can’t. He’d rather die.

“They said you’d be harder than the others,” Emma crows, smile not leaving her face as she comes toward him again. “They were wrong.”

“Emma, please,” Dean says. Her blade comes down. He lifts his hand in a pathetic attempt to block her blow. The knife glances off his arm, slicing cleanly through his overshirt and into his skin. Burning agony erupts up his arm. Blood splatters in a stripe across the carpet. He grits out through the pain, “Baby, please –”

“Shut up!” Emma shrieks, eyes losing the coldness of a well-rehearsed fight, replaced by something wild. “Fight back!” She screams. Dean pins his bloodied arm to his chest. He lifts his right hand, still holding the gun but no longer pointed at her. He can’t make himself let go of the grip.

With a formless shout of anger, Emma lunges for him. Her hands close around his shoulders and haul him off the floor. With inhuman strength, she hurls him against the opposite wall. Dean’s head hits the plaster hard. It makes his vision black out. When he blinks himself sluggishly back to himself, he’s flat on the ground, staring up at Emma as she looms over him, knife furled at her side and ugly curl to her lip.

“You’re weak,” she spits at him. She bends over his body, kneels atop his chest so he can feel her steady weight pinning him to the ground. She’s small. She’s so fucking small. “If you’re so eager to die, then, I’ll be merciful,” she says. She lifts her blade to his throat. Dean feels its sting as he swallows; his whiskers scrape against the edge. “I won’t make you suffer like the others.”

There’s a bang and a crash from across the room. Emma’s head whips around, but she’s too slow. A gunshot cracks through the motel room, sharp enough to shake the glass in the window. Emma’s forehead shatters outward. For a moment, there’s a perfect look of shock on the remainder of her face until she slumps sideways.

Dean reacts on instinct. His sits up to catch her. His arms wrap around her thin frame. Her bloodied head dips forward and comes to rest on his shoulder.

“Dean –” Sam says from the doorway, gun smoking in his hand.

“No,” Dean mutters. Blood pumps out of the wound in his arm. It leaves him shivering and dizzy.

“Fuck,” Sam says. He crosses to Dean’s side. “Are you okay? Shit – shit. Don’t move.”

Dean doesn’t move. He doesn’t let go of Emma – his daughter. His daughter. She remains lifeless against his chest.

Sam rushes to the duffle bag on the table. He comes back with a spool of gauze.

“Sam,” Dean mumbles.

“Let go of her,” Sam says, reaching for Emma’s body. “Dean – let go.”

“Sam.”

Sam lifts Emma away from Dean’s arms. “She – she’s young,” Sam says unsteadily.

Sam doesn’t know, Dean realizes. Dean closes his eyes. He’s covered in blood. It leaks from his arm, covering his lap with a small pool. Emma left a trail of blood across his shoulder and chest. Sam doesn’t know.

“Sam.”

Dean can’t talk. He can’t make himself say anything else.

“Fuck,” Sam says, picking up Dean’s arm. The pain is an unstoppable thrum, but Dean somehow barely notices it. His daughter. His daughter. “This is really deep. You’re going into shock, Dean.”

Sam works quickly. They don’t have time. Someone’s bound to have heard the gunshot and called the cops. Dean and Sam need to move. They need to get out. They need to take care of the – the body.

“Sam,” Dean whispers. Sam pulls the bandage tight around Dean’s arm. It makes another shock of pain tremble through his body. “It wasn’t Lydia.”

“Who’s Lydia?” Sam asks. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Listen to me,” Dean says hoarsely. He brings up his good hand. He clutches the collar of Sam’s shirt. Sam’s face is pale. He looks scared. “It wasn’t – it wasn’t Lydia.”

“Who was she?” Sam asks. He gulps.

“She – she’s mine,” Dean whispers.

“I don’t understand,” Sam replies.

“She’s mine.”

“No,” Sam says. He shakes his head. “No.” He sits on his heels away from Dean. “That’s not possible. No, Dean.”

“S-Sammy,” Dean says. God, Sammy. “She – she’s –”

“It said they have exceptionally short gestation periods,” Sam says, voice less than a breath, feverish and rapid. “Some said a week, others said a matter of days. Then the – the child grew at an accelerated rate until they reached sexual maturity. They – they –”

“Stop talking,” Dean orders. He can’t – he can’t breathe.

“Oh my God,” Sam gulps. “Oh my God – Dean – Dean.” Dean’s baby brother sounds horrified. Dean meets his eyes and he finds Sam’s face is white with terror and disgust. “I didn’t know,” he says at once. “I didn’t know. I swear. She was going to kill you.”

“She was my – she was –”

“She was killing you,” Sam says again. “Dean, I didn’t know.”

There is dead silence. Dean sways with a renewed sense of vertigo.

“We need to leave,” Sam mutters. “Before – the cops.”

“Help me up,” Dean says.

Without a word, Sam grips Dean’s good arm and pulls him back to his feet. Dean totters for a second, vision blurring out again, but he steadies himself on Sam’s shoulder. Silently, Dean shuffles to the bed. Awkwardly, he fumbles the comforter off one-handed. He tugs the flat sheet away from the bed. Equally silent, Sam bends to help him.

Sheet free, Dean eases himself to the floor. The change in altitude makes his head pulse with sickening pain. He spreads out the sheet. He carefully rolls Emma’s body over. She’s small, he thinks again. She’s so fucking tiny.

Half her face is ruined. Dean tries not to look at it as he closes her remaining eye. He eases her hair out from behind her, spreading it in two neat tresses over her shoulders. Its full of blood. Dean wishes he had time to clean her up. He rolls her into the sheet. One-armed, he can’t lift her.

Sam helps, lips pressed tightly together, no longer meeting Dean’s eye. They carry her out to the car together. Dean supports her upper body. Sam follows with her legs. She’s barely five feet long. She fits without trouble in the backseat of the Impala.

Dean sees faces watching them from the windows in the motel. He knows the police will hear about two men carrying out a small body in the parking lot. Still silent, Sam gets behind the wheel. Dean slumps in the passenger side. His arm throbs. Blood is starting to seep through the bandage.

They don’t drive long before Sam pulls over. They’re on a narrow side road, surrounded by towering conifers and darkness. The wind makes the tips of the trees sway like giant, marching shadows across the night sky.

“Dean…” Sam finally breaks the silence.

Dean doesn’t respond. He gets out of the car and moves to the back. He opens the door and, with difficulty, pulls Emma into his arms. His head clangs with insistent pain as he moves. His fingers on his left hand are numb. Dean stalks off the side of the road and into the woods, cradling his daughter to his chest. He hears the creak of the Impala’s front door as Sam hurries to follow him. A moment later, there’s the thud of the trunk and then the crackle of Sam’s feet on the frost-covered ground.

Dean walks until the dizziness threatens to send him to his knees. Sam drops his shovel in his haste to keep Dean upright. They’ve reached a clearing in the woods. Dean can see the stars above them, cold and distant and startlingly bright outside the light pollution of the city proper.

“I’ll do it,” Sam tells him, pushing him to rest against a tree. Dean sits there, ass growing numb with cold, Emma’s stiffened body in his lap, as Sam digs a hole. Sam moves quickly. By the time he’s done, sweat gleams on his forehead and he’s breathing hard, every puff sending smoke drifting toward the stars.

“You want me…?”

Dean doesn’t answer. He gets up to his knees, body protesting, now stiff with cold. He thinks, distantly, he’s shivering, but he’s not sure. Everything is distant. Everything is cold and numb. Sam helps Dean roll Emma gently into the pit.

Sam reveals a jug of accelerant. He works quietly as he spills the lighter fluid after Emma. It stains the white sheet dark. Salt comes next. Sam picks out a lighter from his pocket.

Dean wants to take it from him, but he can’t move. He holds his injured arm tight against his chest with his other. He’s definitely shaking, now, trembling so hard his teeth clatter.

Sam flicks the lighter. A flame jumps to life, momentarily casting his face into distorted shadow and light, like a skull.

The lighter drops. The body ignites.

It should be a hunter’s funeral, Dean thinks. She was a hunter. She deserves a pyre. Will she be missed? He wonders. Will the other Amazons come looking for her when she doesn’t return from her mission? Will Lydia mourn her, or was she nothing more than another duty in a strange, ritualized life?

“Come on,” Sam says softly. Dean sees the pit has burned to embers. Smoke curls into the air. Dean can smell it. He’ll always be able to recognize the stench of burning flesh. “You’re freezing, man.”

Sam leads Dean back to the car. He leaves him in the passenger seat with their emergency blanket wrapped around his shoulders. A moment later he returns again, smelling like earth and cold and smoke. Sam tells Dean to hold a flashlight in his good hand and, in the pool of light, stitches up Dean’s arm. Dean watches it happen as if it’s someone else. He feels the burn of the antiseptic and the sting of the needle, but it’s too far to touch.

Finally, Sam gets back behind the wheel. They drive through the night, unspeaking.

Stream Dean's half-way house for more Emma

[nookishposts]

Shift

These days, our home is full of unabashed joy.

There are stories that change one life, two, and then like a pebble dropped into a puddle, a concentric reaction that spreads like an embrace.

I have the honour of sharing in such a story.

On our 3rd date nearly 15 years ago, my Beloved told me that she’d had a child as a teenager and he was adopted out, for all of the best reasons. When that boy turned 16, she contacted the adoption agency and made certain that her contact information was up to date so that should he ever choose to find her, he could. About 2 years ago, through an online ancestry forum, he did.

We were sitting in the living room, engaged in separate projects when I heard a sharp intake of breath and glanced up to see an expression on her face that I had never seen before and would struggle to name. A curious light came into her eyes as she looked at me and then back to the computer screen in front of her, awed, disbelieving, cautiously hopeful. “ Let me read you something” she said in the softest voice.

The email was from a then 36-year old man on the West Coast, who had come across a version of the full name he knew had been given at birth. He wanted to ask the author of the ancestry tree also bearing the same uncommon surname if she could possibly provide information about his biological mother. My Beloved had to gather herself for a little while before daring to answer him. We found out a little later that this note was his first actual enquiry. He had no way of knowing that it would be the only one he’d ever need. He gave his adopted name and we quickly found his photo on a social media platform. The image left no doubt in our minds that he was her son. The resemblance was undeniable.

As the genetic connection was confirmed through emails and photos, reality hit with a psychological sledgehammer. My Beloved spun quietly in a decades-old, echoing maelstrom of  shame. It all came flooding back; the shock of unexpected pregnancy all but suffocated by  layers of  judgement from the Church, divorced parents whose opinions and advice were polar opposites, disinterest from the young father of the child, and fears for the future of the child himself. They had 10 days together in hospital following the C-section, before choices were given and documents signed. And then came the years of not knowing, of hoping for the best.

The first thing he told her was: “ don’t worry, I have had a good life”.  A kindness for which she was grateful.

They agreed to stick with emails. To go slowly. To take the soaring, treacherously uncertain mountain of emotions one careful step at a time. So many questions. He and his partner had a child. A 2 year old girl. My Beloved, younger than me by 5 years, was also at least biologically, an instant  grandmother. It was almost too much. So much that my Beloved retreated into the relative safety of her brain and away from me and the rest of the World. So much that I called her sister, who’d been present with their own mother for the birth, to come to see her, as I was unnerved and at sea about how to be supportive. It took time.

On a whim, I contacted her son and asked if he felt ready for a video call on Christmas Eve. I assured him my Beloved knew nothing about the request and he was free to say no without repercussion. When he said yes, I asked him to define the parameters that would be most appropriate for him. We were sitting by the light of our xmas tree on Dec 24th when my phone rang with a video connection. I said a very brief hello and then handed the phone over saying “ it’s for you”. To watch the two of them see themselves in one another’s face was breath-stopping. They read one another well beyond whatever words they actually spoke. He introduced his partner and her mother, and the just-turned 3 year old little girl who would prove to be both a buffer and a prism through which the call could safely continue. There were no tears, no effusive holiday greetings, just a few minutes polite conversation unsuccessfully masking the overwhelm on both sides. 

There was a period of many months when there was little contact between them, both mother and son being introverts by nature, especially when communicating feelings.  Luckily, neither myself nor his partner have that quirk; she and I became weekly online pen pals. News of another child on the way delighted us. My Beloved began knitting up a storm and sent a parcel to her grandchild containing a gorgeous warm sweater with kite shaped buttons, and a Minnie Mouse toque complete with sparkles and a bow knitted from red yarn left in her own mother’s sewing kit.  Four generations connected in a little knitted hat. There was also a newborn sized fox outfit. We received a video of the grand unveiling ending in a shy “thank you” and a kiss blown from the palm of a 3 year old. 

It took a full year before my Beloved began to tell her story beyond her siblings, who already knew. Each time, the telling became a little lighter, a little more enthusiastic, even daring to be joyful. A little boy was born, and his biological grandmother continued knitting adorable baby clothes. Professional photos were arranged and we finally got to see them all together, a little family of four, swaddled in cuddles no less genuine for having been posed.

It took another year before we arranged to meet, face to face. 

The trip was going to be full of benchmarks. We hadn’t had a proper vacation in 4 years. It would require a 5 hour flight and I am not a happy flyer. But my job was to provide a safe zone and a soft landing for my Beloved, whatever the reunion might bring. So, she found a direct flight, paid extra for  bulkhead seats and I worked on negotiating with my claustrophobia-motion-sickness plane willies.

I watched trepidation gather in my Beloved like breathless uneasiness before a storm. On the plane, we held hands and exchanged wordless glances. Even the sheer magnificence of the mountains below, and the turbulence of flying over wildfires were not quite enough to distract us. We took only carry on baggage. Upon landing in Abbotsford Saturday morning,we met the practicalities of car rental, reaching accommodations in Vancouver, adjusting to a time change and establishing a plan. A bit of time to ourselves, we visited Granville Island,the only parking spot available happened to be right outside a yarn store of course. We visited a few shops and picked out hand-puppets for the kids. We stuck our toes in the Pacific Ocean thus completing a circumnavigation together of the North American continent: Miami, Churchill, Halifax and Vancouver in that order.Had some great sushi at Nobu. Met some wonderful cousins for brunch on Sunday and watched their faces split with delighted amazement as my Beloved explained why we had really come to BC. On Monday we undertook one of the best drives in Canada;  Sea to Sky running from Vancouver to Whistler. My neck hurt from craning it in every direction and I quickly ran out of “Wows”. Crisp, clean, salty air. Variations in landscape from sand to sage to snow. Crystalline cascades, trees springing impossibly from sheer rock faces, posted warnings about black bears and bungee jumping locations. We wandered, bodies and minds as present as we could recall being in a very long time. Stood wordlessly at mesmerising  lookouts, remembering for a moment just how vast the World really is. A quirky little bistro provided an awesome lunch. On the way back down we picked up a hitchhiker returning from the other side of the mountains with a huge pack full of sage bundles to sell, earning ferry money en route to her home on a fibreglass boat tethered to an island. We made certain she had what she needed.

Beloved and I have reached a place in our lives where words aren’t always necessary; we can feel a shift in the energy of the other, let the unasked questions answer for themselves all in good time. We don’t always get it right, but our next steps would be bigger than any mountain we’d travelled so far and we wanted to tread carefully. We checked into our reservation at Harrison Hot Springs, 20 minutes outside of Chilliwack where we would be meeting the next day, with my Beloved’s son and his family, for a picnic.  

We pulled into the parking lot on a sunny, breezy Tuesday afternoon, laden with toys and snacks. We saw him watch us arrive, dip his head and take a long deep breath. His partner waited nearby, one eye on the kids and the other sending him strength. My Beloved took her own deep breath and stepped out of the car. There were no tears, no drama, just quick hugs and introductions. His partner and I , social media pen pals for months, went off to amuse the kids, leaving our two introverts to fend for themselves. They sat at a table, profiles nearly identical, with shy, mirror-image smiles. Most of that initial conversation remains between them, but after about 40 minutes, we joined them and laid out a picnic of strawberries, peas, meat and cheese, salties and sweets. The 4 year old watched my Beloved very carefully, knowing that this was the lady who sent all the knitted goodies and having been told that Daddy grew in her belly as she had grown in her own Mummy’s tummy. She seemed to recognise some kind of connection from the moment they met and I got to watch it grow before my very eyes. The picnic lasted about 3 and a half hours, until the kids were worn out, all 4 adults having taken turns feeding and herding them, little walk-away pauses to digest lunch and reality. 38 years worth. 

We made plans for them to visit us Wed afternoon at the resort, so the kids could play in the family pool. When they arrived, it was with the announcement that they had booked a room too. Struggles involving other family health matters had been going on for some time and they decided it would be good to take a little break. We were ecstatic.  Swimming, supper, bedtime routines with the wee ones, and breakfast Thursday morning. More than we ever could have asked for. The kids wanted one more swim, and as checkout time grew closer, they decided they would like to stay one more night. I cannot begin to describe the natural-ness of it all. Its hard to hold anything back  when everybody is in a bathing suit, relaxing in warm mineral waters, surrounded by mountains and sunshine. It was joyful. No raised voices, no tantrums, no helicoptering, no judgements, no resentments, nothing but relief and gratitude. Another supper, another bedtime routine, one more breakfast together and suddenly we stood with packed vehicles in the roundabout in front on the hotel on Friday morning. We had a date with my Beloved’s stepmom 4 hours away, but would be back for the 4 year olds dance recital on Saturday morning. Hugs all around, my Beloved and her boy saving one another for last. It was a little too quick and his partner asked that they do it again so she could take a photo. So they embraced again, but this time, he settled right in, my Beloved allowed herself to be held and they took their sweet wordless time letting go. It was magical. 

We drove through the Fraser River Valley inland to Salmon Arm, temperatures climbing way too fast to properly acclimate. Stepmom made a lovely supper while we had an excellent catch-up, and after a few brief hours of fitful sleep, we hit the Coquihalla just after sunrise,over the mountains back to Chilliwack. We made it with moments to spare and as the first group of dancers hit the stage in their sparkly little costumes to the strains of Purple People Eater, I cried my eyes out. We’d been asked several times how we wanted the kids to address us and had answered that our first names were enough, but they insisted we choose a family moniker. I had promised we would discuss it in the car en route to the recital. Neither of us felt comfortable with Nana, Nanny, Granny, but decided that Grandma would be okay. Watching that little girl in the spotlight, it hit me that I had accepted a key role in her and her brother’s life. Baby number 3 is due in November. My maternal grandmother had meant the world to me. I realised with a joyful jolt that I had a lot to live up to, and that’s when the tears finally came. My Beloved was similarly glassy-eyed and smiling fit to bust. We held hands. The solid reality of family-forward settled on us like a quilt sewn of sunshine stuffed with stardust. (Take that Hallmark!)

Our tiny dancer was pooped after her two performances and desperately needed a nap. So did we. And we’d be flying home the next morning. That alone was more than I was ready to consider. I kept glancing at my Beloved, her face radiant and shifting with a kalidescope of emotion. She seemed to me deeply satisfied in one way, deeply longing in another. She grinned back at me watching her and said “I’m just processing”. We had one more evening to spend. Negotiating by text, we picked up sushi on the way to their home, as you do when your  granddaughter expresses a desire for miso soup.

There were bubbles and water slides on the porch after supper. The showing off of toys and bedrooms, the reading of stories in silly Disney voices, an avalanche of Minnie Mouse stuffies,  and still more dancing in the living room. Mr 15-month old had charmed us from the first and continued his steady stream of ready entertainment, blowing kisses on the run and never missing a trick. Both kids are really smart and happy in themselves, a testament to how they’ve been parented. The final leave-taking was as awkward as it could be when nobody wants it to happen at all. No matter how well the wounds have healed, taking  bandages off is always painful. My Beloved and her son were the last of course. She softly said to him “You are such a good man” and he beamed.

We had just made it back to our hotel room when my phone rang. Our granddaughter wanted to call, even though she didn’t know what words she wanted to use. For us, the wanting was enough. Early the next morning as we packed, there came a 6 second video of her laying in her pile of Minnies, blowing one last kiss and whispering “I miss you”.

My Beloved and I agree that this was the trip of a lifetime and we are not the same people we were when we flew out. Our perspectives have shifted in ways we could not have anticipated. The last of her shame is behind her because he has not a shred of judgement in his heart. A lifeline has re-woven, with vital new strands to bolster those so long buried by time and circumstance. Love-driven choices will always prevail.