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Suguru could not fucking sleep.

He’d been shifting around for an hour now, curled over Satoru’s chest, arms aching from the weird angle, body overheating under the alpha’s heavy limbs and his stupidly loud snoring. He pressed his nose into Satoru’s bare collarbone with a deep pout, narrowed his eyes at the dark ceiling, and resisted the urge to bite the bastard awake, a little nip. Nothing serious. Enough to make a point. His belly was round and swollen between them, warm and heavy, pressing uncomfortably into Satoru’s abs. His back hurt. His ankles were puffy. His chest was sore. And Satoru was snoring.

Suguru made a bitchy little face and wrinkled his nose in the dark. It was completely unfair. Why was he the one carrying their pups and Satoru was the one sleeping like a rock, limbs splayed out, mouth open, making noises loud enough to wake the dead? Or worse — wake the girls.

He turned his head, carefully, so his cheek smushed against the hard line of Satoru’s pecs. His hand rested on the swell of his stomach, rubbing gently in slow circles. He was always hot. Always bloated. Always itchy or sore or starving or nauseous — sometimes all at once. And now, apparently, sleepless too.

He shifted again, the motion jostling Satoru. Not enough to wake him. Of course not.

“Satoruuu,” Suguru whispered, whiny, petulant. No answer. Not even a twitch. Just that goddamn snore again.

His mate, his alpha — dead asleep, knocked out, sprawled across the bed like he hadn’t spent years rutting Suguru into this condition. Like he hadn’t nearly broken the bedframe the last time they’d knotted, held Suguru down by the hips and bred him until he blacked out from it. And now here he was, purring away in some deep sleep while Suguru was fighting for his life.

Suguru flopped onto his side with a dramatic sigh, dragging the blanket off Satoru’s body out of spite. His belly swayed with the motion, taut and sensitive, and he instinctively cradled it with one arm, protective, possessive. His nipples ached with phantom stimulation, brushed lightly by the fabric of his oversized shirt — Satoru’s shirt, since none of his own clothes fit anymore, and Satoru liked how he looked in his scent anyway.

He rubbed slow circles over his stomach and glared into the dark.

Six months. He was six months along. It’d been six months since the first ripple of heat had hit, unexpected and intense, a throwback to their teenage bond. It didn’t matter that Suguru had defected. That he was a curse user now, that he had a fucking cult to run. None of it mattered when the heats came. When the craving started, deep and hormonal and devastating, he needed Satoru.

Always Satoru. His alpha. His mate.

They had a deal — Suguru could keep playing cult leader and Satoru would keep pretending not to see him — as long as he came crawling back every time the moon swelled and his body cried out for him. Satoru took care of it. Always had. Claimed him hard. Fucked him raw. Bred him like it was instinct, like the act of putting a child inside him was coded into his DNA. He hadn’t even tried to pull out.

It was supposed to be a heat thing. Temporary. Physical.

Now look at him.

He sniffled, real tears pricking at his eyes now, frustration and hormonal distress curdling in his throat. His belly was too big. His nipples ached. His lower back felt like it had been cursed. He let out a distressed little omega whimper — soft, high-pitched. Desperate.

That finally did it. Satoru shifted, groaning lightly. His arms wrapped tighter around Suguru, and he blinked awake in stages — groggy and warm.

“…Suguru?” he mumbled, voice gravel-thick. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Now he wakes up.

Suguru scowled and smacked his chest, not hard, but enough to prove a point.

“You’re snoring,” he hissed, voice wobbly, “And I can’t sleep and everything hurts and I feel disgusting and you’re just lying there like you didn’t do this to me—!”

Satoru made a soft noise of guilt, immediately sobering. He cupped Suguru’s face with one big hand, thumb rubbing his cheekbone gently.

“Shit. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know.”

He leaned up on one elbow and kissed Suguru’s brow, then his cheek, then the corner of his pouty little mouth.

Suguru was still glaring at him. His belly curved up between them.

“Six months,” Suguru sniffled, “Six months of your pups inside me, and I haven’t slept for two nights straight, and you’re over here snoring like a dog.”

“…I am kind of a dog,” Satoru muttered, nuzzling into his hair. “A big, horny one. Who loves you.”
He pressed his lips to Suguru’s ear. “Can I make it up to you?”

Suguru narrowed his eyes, still sulking. “How?”

Satoru’s hand drifted down, across the curve of his belly, the softness of his hips, the warm skin of his inner thigh. His voice went low and syrup-sweet. “I’ll take care of you. Rub your back. Soothe you. Play with your tits until you’re so relaxed you pass out on my cock. Anything you want, pretty omega.”

Suguru’s lashes fluttered. He hated how easily he melted under the attention — but the truth was, his body craved it. Craved the grounding touch of his alpha, the weight of his hand, the soft rumble of that stupid voice against his mating gland.

“…Fine,” he muttered, biting back a tiny, bratty smile. “But no knot tonight. If you knot me, I’ll kill you.”

Satoru’s grin was wolfish. “No promises, sweetheart.”

That’s how they ended up in the bath.

Suguru between Satoru’s legs, spine against his chest, warm water up to his ribs and thick with the scent of Satoru’s soap — citrusy, expensive, a little ridiculous. He was boneless now, half-asleep, floating, with Satoru’s big hands roaming slow and lazy over the swell of his belly.

“Mm, see?” Satoru murmured, nosing at his nape, voice a soft purr pressed against his mating gland. “You just needed a little alpha care. Don’t you feel better now, princess?”

Suguru didn’t answer, only hummed, the tip of one finger circling his nipple absentmindedly as his other hand lay splayed over his own stomach. He’d relaxed almost completely, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still cranky. He was always cranky when he was this tired, this sore — and Satoru was being a little too smug.

Behind him, Satoru was scenting him shamelessly, burying his nose in the crook of his neck and huffing like a man who’d been deprived of his mate for weeks. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours. But Satoru was clingy like that. Worse when Suguru was pregnant. Like his possessiveness quadrupled and all he wanted was to be skin-to-skin, breath-to-breath, hands on Suguru’s softest parts, mouth mouthing lazy kisses along his sweat-slick skin.

Suguru groaned. Loudly.

“Satoru.”

“Yes, baby?” Satoru murmured, voice stupid-soft and so pleased with himself.

“You said a massage. Not a grope session.”

“I’m massaging,” Satoru said innocently, rolling his thumb just beneath the curve of Suguru’s tit. “I’m being therapeutic.”

Suguru smacked his hand — a light, wet slap against slick skin. “You’re being horny.”

Satoru only chuckled and leaned in to scent his neck, pressing his nose against the delicate skin right over Suguru’s mating gland. He breathed in deep, a satisfied purr vibrating from his throat.

“Mmm, but you smell so good. Full and warm and mine.”

His voice had that rumble in it again — that heat-triggering pitch that made Suguru’s thighs tense under the water.

He was trying so hard to be annoyed. He really was. But his nipples had been sensitive for weeks, his body begging for stimulation he couldn’t quite give himself. Everything ached. Everything throbbed. His belly was heavy, his chest was worse, and the worst part was that Satoru knew exactly what to do to make him fall apart.

“Su-gu-ruuu,” Satoru drawled against his neck, rubbing his belly with both palms now. “Just one touch. One little touch. One.”

“Satoruuu — you’re such a horny dog,” he hissed, voice flat and unimpressed, “you can’t go five minutes without groping me?”

He shifted forward a little, belly heavy, shoulders tense, trying to keep distance that lasted exactly two seconds before Satoru dragged him back against his chest

“C’mon,” Satoru said, undeterred. “You smell so good. Can’t help myself, baby.”

Suguru flinched and tilted his head away, chest rising sharply in the water. “You said you’d behave.”

“I said I’d try.” He pressed a kiss to the gland, tongue flicking out just enough to drag heat up Suguru’s spine. “I never said I was good at it.”

Suguru closed his eyes, the lazy rasp of Satoru’s voice sending a pulse of liquid heat low into his belly. His skin tingled everywhere. His thighs squeezed together under the water. The bath was too warm. Satoru’s arms were too much. The whole situation was too much. Still, he stayed where he was — back flush to Satoru’s chest, cradled, cocooned in steam and scent and the unbearable comfort of his mate.

Satoru’s hands slid higher, cupping his breasts — heavy now, sensitive in a way that made Suguru gasp — and kneaded them with a tenderness that almost felt innocent. Until he thumbed over a nipple and Suguru flinched again, whining low in his throat.

“Don’t—” he breathed, “I’m sore.”

“I know,” Satoru crooned, licking behind his ear. “Just wanna help. Make you feel good, baby.”

Suguru hissed when Satoru pinched, and twisted in his lap — trying to pull away, except he didn’t really mean it, and Satoru knew it, and kept touching him anyway.

“You’re such an asshole,” he muttered.

Satoru chuckled. “You’re the one who’s all wet and pretty in my tub, leaning back on me like you don’t wanna be touched.”

“I don’t—” Suguru lied, barely able to keep the quiver out of his voice.

His back arched instinctively as Satoru rolled both nipples between his fingers again, this time with more pressure. Arousal crackled through him and he couldn’t stop the way his hips tilted forward in the water — just a little — just to relieve the pressure between his legs.

“Ohhh,” Satoru breathed, lips dragging along his jaw. “There we go. There's my baby. All fussy and swollen and mean until I rub your tits a little. Look how quick you soften for me.”

“Shut up,” Suguru said, but it was barely a whisper now. He was breathing too fast. His head lolled back on Satoru’s shoulder, throat exposed.

Satoru bit it, gently. Scented his gland again, harder this time, pressing his whole mouth over the mark and sucking until the skin flushed dark.

Suguru’s thighs parted underwater, unthinking.

“Mmhm,” Satoru purred. “Knew it. Always so greedy for me.”

Suguru turned his head, flushed and glassy-eyed. His lips parted to argue, or maybe beg, but Satoru stole the moment — kissed him deep and slow, mouth hot and claiming. Suguru moaned into it, weak.

The bathwater sloshed as Satoru shifted them both, tugging Suguru into his lap fully now, cock heavy and half-hard under the curve of his ass. He started rutting lazily against him, not even trying to be slick about it.

“Satoru—” Suguru warned, breathless.

“Just rubbing,” Satoru lied, squeezing his breasts again and thumbing both nipples at once. “Just scenting. Just helping.”

“Your dick is poking me.”

“It always is.”

“Satoru—”

“Shhh,” he said, kissing his temple. “Let me take care of you.”

He gripped Suguru’s thighs and spread them wide under the water, rubbing one open-palmed, slow. His fingers dipped toward the seam of his folds, not touching, just close. So close. His lips pressed to the gland again. Scented. Moaned.

“Let me taste you. Just a little,” he whispered. “Wanna eat my pregnant omega right here in the tub.”

Suguru shuddered. Bit his lip.

Satoru watched the reaction with the hungry, smug delight of someone who already knew the answer and was waiting for you to say it out loud. He kissed the back of Suguru’s neck — slowly, lovingly — then leaned forward, bringing one hand down between Suguru’s legs, cupping his cunt with his palm.

“MmMMMmm,” Satoru hummed obnoxiously. “Suguru is so wet for me, look—”

He pushed two fingers between the folds, parting them gently, slick coating his fingertips immediately. Thick, syrupy warmth mixed with bathwater.

“Goddd, Suguru is sooo horny,” he drawled, dragging his fingers up the seam, slow and teasing. “And he always acts above it all, like he’s so pure and put together, but look at you now.”

Suguru scowled, huffing as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest — which, unfortunately for his dignity, only made the situation worse. The movement made both nipples leak visibly into the bathwater. Again. More milk — thick, heavy, totally unignorable.

Satoru noticed immediately.

His grin turned wolfish.

Suguru turned away quickly, chin tilted, nose up, like he could act through the embarrassment. “Fuck off, asshole. Leave me alone.”

“D’aww,” Satoru cooed, clearly having the time of his life. “Suguru, don’t be like that. You know I’m right. You’re always like” — he imitated his voice with a mocking falsetto — “‘Satoru, stop it, I’m meditating’ — ‘Satoru, I need to tend to the monkeys, stop groping me’ — but meanwhile your pussy’s all—”

He dipped two fingers back in. Just a little. Just to prove a point. And the sound was filthy — wet and shameless, water splashing slightly around the movement.

“—this. All wet and twitchy and hungry for me.”

“Maybe I’m wet because you keep molesting me,” Suguru snapped, clearly flustered, clearly aroused, clearly trying not to let it show. His cheeks were pink and his thighs were pressed tight together under the water again. That stern frown wasn’t doing shit to hide the way his breathing hitched every time Satoru so much as grazed him.

Satoru laughed, big and unbothered, leaning in like a dog chasing a bone. “Baby, you’re leaking milk and slick like a broken faucet. I can smell it. I could track you across Tokyo with this scent.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He nipped Suguru’s mating gland again, gently, possessively. “You’re the one acting like you don’t need this. Like you didn’t whine in bed thirty minutes ago because you couldn’t sleep without me rubbing your tits. You need your alpha, Suguru.”

Suguru flinched. His scent flared — sharp and sweet with want, his whole body betraying him again.

Satoru licked his lips.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmured, voice going low, low, low. “Let me take care of you.”

Suguru twisted in his arms and bit down hard on Satoru’s collarbone — enough to make him jolt and hiss, but not pull away. His hand was still between Suguru’s legs, rubbing deeper now, spreading him open and teasing circles around the wet, swollen entrance. The heat of him was unbearable.

“You’re soaking the water with your slick,” Satoru murmured, voice low, breath hot against the bite mark. “This whole tub smells like heat. I wanna drown in it.”

Suguru was panting openly now, cheeks pink and eyes glazed, trying to hold onto his scowl but already unraveling.

“Tell me to stop,” Satoru whispered, brushing his mouth up Suguru’s throat again, kissing under his jaw. “Say the word and I’ll stop. Or…”

He slid two fingers inside, slow and deep, thumb brushing up over Suguru’s clit. Suguru moaned, full-bodied, loud.

“...tell me you want it.”

Suguru’s head fell back, mouth open, panting.

“Fuck. Just… don’t stop,” he muttered.

And Satoru, predictably, did the exact opposite of stopping. He went feral.

His fingers curled deep inside Suguru’s pussy — long, thick, strong fingers, the kind that could reach parts of him that felt almost unfair. Unreachable, unless it was Satoru. And now, with Suguru pregnant — belly full and firm, hips wider, walls tighter, softer — those fingers hit different.

“Satoru—!” he gasped, voice breaking, as the tips of Satoru’s fingers curved up and dragged over the swollen spot inside him that had his knees kicking underwater and his eyes rolling back in his skull. His stomach fluttered with the pressure, a wet ache blooming low in his belly, and Satoru was just—

“Shhhh,” Satoru cooed against his ear, maddeningly gentle. He nosed along Suguru’s jaw, never pausing the rhythm of his fingers — in deep, curling, spreading, slow but with purpose. “I got you, baby. Just let me.”

Suguru opened his mouth to protest — say something, anything, maybe cuss him out — but it was too much. His whole body was flushed, his chest heaving, and his milk-swollen tits were heavy, leaking openly into the water now, droplets floating like pearls.

Satoru noticed.

“Aw,” he crooned, hand sliding up from Suguru’s belly to one soft, flushed breast, cupping it in his palm with reverence, “You’re leaking, pretty thing. These sore for you, huh?”

Suguru squirmed, annoyed and embarrassed all at once — his body betraying him again, making a mess of him, putting him right back under Satoru’s thumb.

“Don’t—” he managed weakly, arms twitching.

But before he could get the full sentence out, Satoru’s mouth was on him.

He ducked his head and sucked hard on one nipple, warm lips wrapping around the flushed tip and dragging milk into his mouth like he’d been starving for it. Suguru arched in his lap, cried out sharp, breath catching in his throat.

“Fuck— Satoru—!”

Satoru moaned low as he suckled, tongue swirling in lazy, greedy laps while his fingers stayed deep inside Suguru, curling with every breath. He switched nipples without pause, mouth hot and wet and hungry, and the combination of tongue and fingers had Suguru trembling, thighs shaking in the water, back bowing with every wave of electric pleasure.

“You’re such a mess,” Satoru whispered when he came up for air, chin wet with milk and lips slick. He pressed a kiss between Suguru’s breasts and looked up at him, grinning. “Pregnant and pouting and dripping all over me.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“Mm. Full of me,” he echoed. “Exactly where I like you.”

Suguru would’ve kicked him if he had the leverage. Instead, he sank back against his chest, legs wide and shaking underwater, hips rocking in rhythm now — slow little pulses, chasing friction as Satoru kept working him open.

The pressure was building — too much, too deep, everywhere. Between the swollen heat inside and the aching fullness of his chest, he didn’t know what to do with himself. All he could do was let it crash over him, whimpering through the humiliation of it — his mate touching him like he was fragile and feral all at once, sweet-talking him while he wrung him out.

“Tell me what you need,” Satoru whispered. “You wanna cum for me, baby?”

“Y-yeah—”

“You want your alpha’s tongue?”

Suguru made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a yes.

Satoru grinned against his neck, tongue flicking out to taste his gland.

“Then let’s rinse you off, get you spread out in bed,” he murmured, slipping his fingers free with a wet squelch and making Suguru whimper. “I wanna eat you proper, watch you squirt for me, suck on your pretty tits while you cry about how full you are.”

He was trembling already, slick still dripping down his thighs even as the bathwater cooled around them. Satoru helped him up — gentle, but with that quiet possessive pressure in his touch that made Suguru’s knees go a little weak. His alpha scent was everywhere now, saturated into the steam, clinging to Suguru’s glands, his skin, the space between them. He felt like he was being marked with every breath. Wrapped in it.

It made him pliant. Made him fuzzy-headed and stupid and wet between the legs. It made him clingy.

Just like that first time. Just like the night he’d sobbed into Satoru’s shirt, fists curled tight in his collar, four months pregnant and hormonal and wrecked from the inside out.

He hadn’t even meant to tell him. Had planned to keep it secret. Pretend it wasn’t happening, deal with it himself, like he always did. But then Satoru had shown up, all smug and glowing and obnoxious — alpha energy rolling off of him in waves, hands on his hips — and the minute he got close, Suguru had snapped.

He remembered the exact way it had happened. One whiff of that scent and he was sobbing, breath catching in his throat, tears spilling down his face faster than he could wipe them.

And Satoru — fucking Satoru — hadn’t even been surprised.

He’d just stepped forward, wide-eyed but gentle, and Suguru had crumbled into him like a goddamn flower wilting in the sun. Clung to him like a baby, face pressed into his shirt, soaking it through with tears and snot and apologies he didn’t even mean. Crying and hiccupping and babbling stupid things like “Don’t leave, please, I’m sorry, I need you—”

Hormones made you stupid like that.

And biology? Biology made it worse.

Because an omega always needs their alpha. That was the one rule even Suguru couldn’t rewrite. He could reject the Jujutsu world. He could reject the elders and the clans and the rules.

But he couldn’t reject this. The way his body bent toward Satoru. The way his instincts screamed for him whenever his scent got close. The way his throat felt raw with unshed whines every time he tried to act unaffected.

He wasn’t separate from it, no matter how much pride he had. No matter how untouchable he pretended to be. And now, six months in, belly full and tits sore and leaking — all of it amplified and magnified — he was needy. All the time. For Satoru. For his scent, his hands, his voice, his knot, his everything.

“Baby,” Satoru said now, lifting him effortlessly out of the tub and drying him with one of those stupidly soft towels he always kept hidden under the sink, “Why do you look like you’re thinking so hard? You know you don’t have to pretend around me.”

Suguru let himself be toweled off, arms limp, letting Satoru handle him like he always did. His eyes were pink-rimmed and glassy, his body still flushed.

“I’m just tired,” he muttered.

Satoru tilted his head, looking him over. “This baby’s gonna have such a dramatic mama,” he murmured. “All pouty and teary just ‘cause he needs his alpha.”

Suguru curled his hand into Satoru’s hair and tugged — annoyed, twitchy, bratty — but not hard enough to make him stop. He just needed to do something, ground himself, remind his body it belonged to him and not just to Satoru’s mouth and voice and scent and—

Satoru only smirked at the tug, eyes gleaming with wolfish affection. “Still pretending you don’t like it?”

“I don’t,” Suguru muttered, but his voice broke on it, pathetic and soft.

“Sure you don’t.”

And then he lifted him. Effortlessly. Like Suguru didn’t weigh anything at all — like six months pregnant and hormonal and milk-heavy and sore meant nothing to him. His arms were strong and warm, one under Suguru’s thighs, the other around his back, and the minute Suguru felt them tighten he let out a surprised noise — all breathy and high, body curling inward without even thinking.

He hated how floaty he felt. Hated the warm, syrupy pull in his limbs, the dizzy way his omega instincts kept short-circuiting his logic. His body knew. The second Satoru picked him up like that, his body knew he was safe. Possessed. Protected. Handled. He couldn’t stop himself — his fingers went to Satoru’s neck, rubbing slow little circles into the skin there like a cat kneading its favorite spot. He nuzzled against the mark he'd left weeks ago, when his heat was worse, when the knot had made him drool, when—

“Mmmm,” he purred, low in his throat, chest rumbling. “You smell good.”

Satoru grinned, teeth showing.

“You’re purring.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he said, walking them to the bed, pressing an exaggerated kiss to Suguru’s jaw as he set him down, “You’re being so cute right now. Like a little kitten in heat.”

“I’m pregnant, not in heat—” Suguru started, scowling, arms crossed again over his leaking tits, cheeks red.

But Satoru leaned over him, still grinning like the bastard he was, and pinched his cheek.

“Shut up,” Suguru hissed.

“You shut up,” Satoru countered, pinching again with both hands this time, squishing his cheeks together until Suguru glared at him with puffed-up lips and rage in his eyes. “You’re adorable.”

“I will bite your cock off.”

“I’d still eat you out.”

Suguru huffed, but his hips squirmed against the mattress.

The sheets were warm against his bare skin, and Satoru hadn’t even touched him yet — not really — but already his thighs were slick again, wet and twitchy and begging. It made him mad. It made him embarrassed. It made him wet.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered.

“Like what?”

“Like you wanna ruin me.”

“Oh, baby,” Satoru cooed, crawling up onto the bed between his spread legs, gaze locked on the mess between his thighs, “I already did.”

Suguru flushed darker, turned his head away.

Satoru leaned down, spreading his legs wider with one hand on his knee, the other pushing under his thigh.

“You’re dripping,” he said, reverent. “So needy for me already.”

“Satoruuuu—”

“And it’s not even your heat,” Satoru went on, ignoring him. He dragged two fingers through the wetness slicking Suguru’s folds and watched his omega twitch and shiver. “You’re just like this all the time now, huh? Always soaking. Always wanting.”

He leaned down and licked him — one long, slow drag of his tongue over the puffy seam of his cunt — and Suguru moaned, hips jumping.

“F-fuck, Satoru—”

“I love you like this,” he said against him, voice low and full of heat. “Swollen and purring and ready for me. I could spend hours here.”

“Please don’t—”

Satoru wrapped his arms under Suguru’s thighs and pushed them up, spread wide, belly soft and round between them. And then he dug in — licking, sucking, pressing open his folds with his thumbs and lapping at his clit until Suguru’s hands were in his hair again, not tugging, but clinging.

Suguru was already crying — not sobbing, just those soft, wet tears that spilled when his body couldn’t hold it all. Overheated. Hormonal. Fucked out and sensitive and loved too much.

But after a few more minutes of tongue-fucking — slow, deep strokes inside his pussy, circling and pressing and tasting — Suguru shifted, squirming with a soft, broken whimper.

“Satoru—wait, mnh—my back—” he gasped, voice breathy, tear-thick.

Satoru stilled immediately. His head lifted, wet lips glistening, face flushed, mouth red and slick from where he’d been worshipping.

“Oh baby, shit,” he said softly, voice full of concern, “You uncomfortable?”

Suguru sniffled and nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah. Just—position. Belly’s pulling weird.”

“Okay. No problem.” Satoru kissed the inside of his thigh and sat up. “Let me fix it, love. C’mere.”

He moved gently, carefully — helped Suguru shift to his side with pillows under his back and legs, one thigh hooked over Satoru’s shoulder. This way, his belly had support. His chest could rest. His body didn’t ache.

“You good?” Satoru asked, settling between his legs again.

Suguru nodded, wiping his face. “Yeah. Better.”

“Good.” Satoru smiled, soft and hungry, before leaning in again. “Now stay still. Let your alpha take care of you.”

And then he was back — mouth on him again, tongue dipping deep, slow and obscene.

Suguru let out a loud, broken moan, voice trembling.

“Ah—Satoru—Satoru, alpha—mph, c-can’t—”

He whimpered, hips twitching against the mattress, slick coating the inside of his thighs. His clit was pulsing. His cunt was fluttering around every slow, wet stroke of Satoru’s tongue. And every time he tried to breathe, it came out a whine.

“I’ve got you,” Satoru murmured, voice muffled against his folds. “Let go, baby. Let it happen.”

He sucked again — hot, wet, slow — and Suguru gasped, sobbed through a sharp jolt of pleasure, his whole body twitching. He was so full — of belly, of milk, of want — everything in him swelling, too much, too sensitive.

“F-fuck, I’m—gonna—!”

“That’s it,” Satoru whispered, lips never leaving his cunt, “Cum for me, my beautiful omega. Cry for your alpha.”

Suguru moaned. His leg kicked, and then his whole body arched, back curling as he sobbed out a hoarse, desperate cry.

His orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave — hot, soaking, clit twitching violently. Satoru pressed in deeper, fucking him through it with his tongue, one hand gripping his thigh, the other rubbing his belly like he was trying to soothe him and breed him at the same time.

Suguru was still shaking, still whining, even after his pussy started clenching around nothing, walls fluttering, slick dripping onto the bed in messy rivulets.

And Satoru?

Satoru looked possessed.

“God, look at you,” he groaned, licking his lips, eyes glazed. “You came so hard you’re shaking. So fucking pretty when you cry.”

Suguru sniffled, face red, trying to come down. His breath hitched.

“I-I didn’t mean to cry—” he mumbled.

“I love when you cry,” Satoru said immediately, climbing up and kissing his wet cheeks, licking the tears away. “It’s so sweet. So raw. You always try to act so cool but the second I touch you—” he kissed his jaw, his temple, “—you fall apart for me.”

“I’m not—mmnh—don’t say it—”

“I’m gonna knot you.”

Suguru’s eyes went wide. “You said—!”

“I lied.”

He was already rock hard, already pressing up against Suguru’s slick folds from behind, already rutting slow and heavy with the tip of his cock.

“You need it,” he whispered against his ear. “You’re all wet and crying and you need your alpha to fuck you full again.”

Suguru whimpered, clutching the sheets.

“Tell me no,” Satoru murmured, voice gentle but his cock notching in, “Or tell me to breed you.”

Suguru shook, sweat-slick and overstimmed, tears still dripping down his cheeks.

“Please,” he whispered, breaking. “Breed me.”

Satoru grunted. His eyes flashed, breath hitching.

“‘Kay babe — gimme—fuck—” He shoved back from between Suguru’s legs enough to get his cock in hand, jerking it with rough, needy strokes, slick from his spit and Suguru’s cum.

He was massive.

Always was. Stupidly, unfairly, obscenely big. Suguru still didn’t know how his body took it — how it stretched for him every time like it wanted to be ruined, like it had been made to fit his alpha and no one else.

His tip was flushed and leaking, precum thick and sticky across his knuckles. Veins popped along the shaft, fat and heavy and twitching with every flex of his hand.

Suguru stared like he was hypnotized. His mouth parted. His hands gripped the sheets. His cunt fluttered, clenching on nothing. His thighs spread even wider, one twitching slightly from the remnants of his orgasm. His whole body throbbed with need.

He wished, for the hundredth time, that he could just flip over — go on his hands and knees, arch his back, present properly. Let Satoru mount him like his instincts screamed for. Let him grab his hips and growl over his back and knot him like an omega in heat should be knotted.

But Satoru was too sweet, too careful. Every time he tried to roll over, Satoru would stop him.

“You’re pregnant,” he’d say, voice patient, breath warm on his neck. “I’m not risking you. Not even a little.”

So instead, Satoru always bred him like this: face to face, belly supported, chest kissed, hips held in those big hands like something fragile and sacred.

Suguru loved it. But he still whined. Now, impatient and slick and desperate, Suguru made little grabby hands, reaching toward him with red eyes and flushed cheeks, bottom lip wobbling.

“Clingy,” Satoru laughed, voice cracking from how close he was. “You get so clingy when you’re like this, baby.”

“Need it,” Suguru whined, hips lifting, hands flexing. “Need your cock. Need you to put it in.”

“Yeah?” Satoru let go of himself, leaned over him, pressed their foreheads together.

His cock slid between Suguru’s folds — not in, just teasing, dragging over his soaked slit, smearing slick up and down his messy pussy. Both of them groaned.

“Alpha,” Suguru whimpered, high and soft, “please—please—I can take it—”

“I know you can.” Satoru kissed his temple, then his cheek. “You always take it so well. My good omega. My perfect little hole.”

And then he pressed in.

Slow at first — careful. Always careful. He rocked his hips forward, cockhead pushing into Suguru’s soaked entrance, inch by inch, splitting him open around that impossible stretch.

Suguru gasped, eyes going wide. His nails bit into Satoru’s arms.

“Oh fuck—oh my god, you’re so big—”

“Shhh,” Satoru murmured, even though his own voice was fraying. “You’re taking me so good, baby. You’re made for this. Look at that—already sucking me in.”

It felt so full. Too much. Too deep. And yet it was perfect — it was everything.

Suguru’s cunt fluttered around him, squeezing greedily as he bottomed out, the bulge of his cock visible beneath Suguru’s taut belly.

“God, you’re full of me,” Satoru groaned, one hand resting on the swell of his stomach. “Already carrying my pups and still begging for more.”

“I want your knot,” Suguru choked out, voice desperate. “I want you to lock inside. Please, alpha—need to feel you stay.”

Satoru cursed under his breath.

He braced himself over Suguru and started to move — slow thrusts, long and deep, rocking his whole body with each grind. He couldn’t go fast, not with the pregnancy, but he didn’t need to. Suguru felt everything.

“Gonna give you what you want,” Satoru promised, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Gonna stuff you so full of cum, you’ll feel it in your throat.”

Satoru grunted, low and hungry, fucking into him slow and deep — deep enough to press right up against his womb, to stir the pressure building there, to make his belly twitch. Every thrust dragged the thick base of his cock against Suguru’s overstretched pussy, swelling slowly as his knot began to grow.

Suguru moaned — loud, cracked, filthy. His legs wrapped around Satoru’s waist and he clung tight, trembling. Satoru slowed just enough to lean in and cup his face, thumb brushing tenderly under Suguru’s eyes where the tears kept falling, one after another.

“Baby,” he whispered, breath catching, “you’re crying again.”

But Suguru couldn’t even speak.

He just buried his face into the curve of Satoru’s neck, right over the bond mark, breathing hard, whining soft and constant into his skin.

“Alpha,” he whined, again and again. “Alpha, alpha, alpha—”

Satoru shuddered, a growl curling low in his chest. His hips stuttered just once, instinct surging, every nerve alight at the sound of that sweet, desperate cry.

“Ohh, you’re gone, huh?” he murmured, threading a hand through Suguru’s damp hair. “Melted down, all syrup in the head, pretty omega mess.”

Suguru could barely breathe. He nuzzled into Satoru’s throat, nose pressed to his scent gland, inhaling like he needed it more than oxygen. His skin tingled. His belly was tight and full. His whole body ached — for more, for closeness, for everything Satoru could give.

He opened his eyes for just a moment — just to look at him.

And fuck.

Satoru’s eyes.

All blown-out blue, wild with heat, lids heavy, sweat dripping down his brow as he thrust into him, deep and thick and steady. He was gritting his teeth, panting, groaning through every movement like it took everything in him to hold back — to not knot yet, to not cum yet, to just keep giving Suguru what he needed.

Suguru’s heart twisted. His omega instincts screamed.

He reached for his chest — not even thinking — and Satoru caught it. Saw the motion. Knew.

“Hurting?” he asked, voice hoarse. “Heavy?”

Suguru nodded fast, pupils blown wide.

Satoru didn’t waste time. He grasped both breasts in his big hands, squeezing slow and warm, careful with the weight. He pinched one leaking nipple between his fingers and brought it to his mouth, sucking hard.

Suguru yelled, sobbed out a high, cracking moan that bordered on a cry.

“Mmm—there we go,” Satoru murmured around his nipple, tongue rolling, lips pulling, “Let me help, baby. Let your alpha take the weight.”

Milk filled his mouth, hot and sweet and so much, and Satoru swallowed it down like it was his favorite thing. He groaned against the nipple, grinding deep into Suguru’s cunt with a brutal snap of his hips, thick cock dragging perfectly against the spot that made Suguru shake.

“Fuck—fuck—” Suguru was sobbing now, messy and overstimmed and soaked from both ends.

“Yeah, that’s it. Cry on my cock,” Satoru growled, letting go of one nipple just to bite it, a gentle scrape of teeth, before moving to the other.

His knot was swelling now. Suguru could feel it — that thick bulb pressing at the mouth of his cunt, too big to slide in yet, but stretching him wider and wider with every thrust.

Satoru looked up at him again, lips wet with milk, face flushed.

“Tell me you want it,” he demanded, fucking slow and hard. “Tell me you want your alpha’s knot, baby.”

Suguru’s lips were trembling. His whole body pulsed with need. Every nerve screamed for it.

“I want it,” he gasped, eyes wide and teary. “Please knot me—please fuck it in—alpha, please—”

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours—I’m yours—always—”

That was all Satoru needed.

He slammed in once, twice—and then the knot caught.

It popped past Suguru’s pussy with a thick, brutal stretch that made his whole body jerk, his back arching off the mattress like a live wire had struck him. He howled, voice cracked and desperate, fingernails digging into Satoru’s shoulders hard enough to leave half-moons.

“F-fuck—alpha—!”

His pussy clenched violently around the knot, already swollen thick inside him, locking in place. And then he was cumming — no warning, no control, only full-body spasms as slick gushed from him, soaking the sheets under his ass in hot waves.

He shook like a leaf, toes curling, thighs trembling around Satoru’s waist. Milk sprayed in hot arcs from his nipples — his body overloaded, bursting at the seams, too full of heat and knot and Satoru.

“Shit—fuck—that’s it,” Satoru groaned through clenched teeth, hips jerking once, twice, and then freezing as he came. Deep. Hard. Thick jets spilling into Suguru’s already-bred pussy, filling him with everything he had until the pressure was unbearable.

His cock pulsed deep inside, the knot swelling even tighter, locking them together. The bulge of it was visible, pressing low under Suguru’s stretched belly. Suguru sobbed again at the weight of it, overwhelmed and soaking and utterly owned.

“Alpha—alpha—alpha—!” he chanted, head thrown back, hair plastered to his face. His lips were red and bitten, tears streaking his cheeks, brain scrambled.

He’d always been like this.

Even as a teen — all sharp edges and tsundere pout, pretending he didn’t like being touched, didn’t like being chased. Always acting cool, brushing Satoru off with crossed arms and annoyed huffs, even when his ears went red and his thighs squeezed together from just a whisper in his ear.

And now?

Now he was a mess. Pliant. Soft. Crying. Soaked.

Because Satoru made him that way. Satoru always made him dumb.

“Suguru looks so good like this,” Satoru panted against his ear, kissing it sloppily, one hand gripping his hip, the other rubbing slow circles on the swell of his belly. “All full and shaking and mine.”

Suguru whined again, hands still clinging to him like lifelines. His cunt clenched around the knot and Satoru groaned, deep and low, body twitching.

“You feel it?” he murmured, nuzzling under Suguru’s jaw. “Feel how full I made you? All that cum inside? You’re dripping around the knot, baby. Stuffed.”

“Mm—hurts,” Suguru whimpered, but his hips rocked, grinding gently down against the knot, like he didn’t want it to stop.

“I know, I know. It’s too much.” Satoru kissed his face, kissed every tear away. “You came so hard, baby. I saw. So fuckin’ pretty.”

Suguru tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken moan — the kind that got stuck in your throat and turned to noise, half-sob, half-purr. His body couldn’t stop twitching. His nipples were still leaking, milk dribbling in thin streams down his sides, and his pussy clenched again, hard, locked around the knot that throbbed with every slow shift of Satoru’s hips.

Satoru grinned, wild and wrecked, voice going syrupy.

“Still milking me,” he whispered. “Still suckin’ me in, baby. Greedy little pussy. Want more?”

“No—yes—fuck, I don’t know—” Suguru whined, tugging at Satoru’s hair, his brain well past the point of choosing.

“Yeah you do.” Satoru licked over his throat, slow and lazy, dragging his teeth against the edge of his mating gland. “You want it all. You always do. My knot, my cum, my scent. So needy for me. You love being my dumb little omega.”

Suguru nodded. It wasn’t even a conscious motion — just instinct, desperate and submissive and true.

“I love you,” he whispered, dazed and teary, “I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” Satoru breathed, holding him tighter. “You always have been.”

And as the knot swelled its final inch and locked fully into place, both of them shuddered — one last wave of hot pleasure blooming in their bellies.

They stayed like that. Tied. Breathing together in ragged rhythm, Suguru’s hands twitching against Satoru’s chest, Satoru mouthing soft kisses into the curve of his throat. Both of them so full. So high on each other it felt like floating.

It took nearly ten minutes before the knot began to soften — slowly, pulsing as it deflated, Satoru’s cock twitching in smaller and smaller spasms as it slid just barely loose.

Satoru grunted, low and spent, carefully easing his hips back, preparing to pull out—

And Suguru’s body clenched.

He whined, panicked, suddenly blinking wide, wet eyes as his fingers snatched at Satoru’s arm.

“Wait—Toru—Alpha—no—!”

His voice cracked on it. Not angry. Scared. Something deep and primal screamed no no no in his head, and his body reacted before he could think. He wrapped both arms around Satoru’s shoulders and clung, the tears spilling out again without even trying to stop them.

“Don’t—don’t get up—please don’t go—” he sobbed, breath hiccupping. “Stay—stay—I’m sorry—just don’t—please—”

Satoru froze, heart stuttering.

“Whoa—whoa, hey,” he murmured, instantly lowering himself back over Suguru’s body, still cradled between his thighs. “Baby—shhh, I’m here, I’m here.”

Suguru clung like he was drowning — arms tight around Satoru’s neck, legs trying to wrap back around his waist, whimpering nonsense into his throat.

It wasn’t fair.

Being pregnant made everything louder. Hotter. Closer to the skin. His body was still soft and sore from the knot, still full of cum, still leaking from both ends. And now Satoru was pulling away? His alpha? His heat source? His gravity?

It made him stupid. Hormonal and needy and stupid.

“I just want—want to be close,” he mumbled between gasps, nose smushed into Satoru’s neck. “I’m sorry—I know I’m—acting—stupid—”

“You’re not,” Satoru said fiercely, holding him tighter, his voice breaking. “You’re not stupid. You’re mine. You’re my omega. And I’m gonna stay right here. Gonna hold you all night.”

Suguru hiccupped again. His lip quivered.

“Even if I leak all over you?”

“I fucking hope you do,” Satoru muttered, kissing his cheeks, his jaw, his damp eyelids. “I hope I’m soaked in your milk and slick and tears. You think I care?”

Suguru made a weak noise — a little snort through his tears, half-humiliated, half-relieved.

Satoru pulled the blankets up over them and pressed his hand back to Suguru’s belly, rubbing it in soft, grounding circles.

“Feel that?” he whispered. “Still warm. Still full. That’s us, baby. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Suguru nodded against his shoulder, still trembling, still crying quietly.

“I always get like this after,” he mumbled, voice hoarse. “I know it’s stupid, I know you’re not leaving, but it’s just—I get so scared when I can’t feel you.”

“I know.” Satoru kissed the crown of his head. “You don’t have to explain it. I get it. I want you like this. I want you clinging. You’re perfect.”

Suguru blinked up at him, lashes wet. “Really?”

Satoru smiled. “Really. You’re my whole fucking world, Suguru. You and this belly. You could cry on me every night for the rest of my life and I’d thank you for the privilege.”

Suguru huffed, finally starting to calm, nose still stuffy.

“...You’re such a dumbass romantic.”

“Only for you.”

The next morning, they woke up slow.

Suguru blinked against the sunlight slipping through the curtains, body warm and heavy under the blankets. Everything was sore. Everything ached. But it wasn’t bad — it was the kind of ache that meant he’d been touched with love. Touched with heat. Filled until he broke open and put back together again.

Satoru was still pressed up behind him, arm looped around his middle, hand splayed possessively over the swell of his belly. Breathing steady. Legs tangled. Their scent still thick in the sheets.

They stayed like that for a long while. Not moving. Not speaking. Only breathing. Tied together by more than biology — by bond, by instinct, by history they’d never fully outrun.

Eventually, the smell of breakfast crept in. Rice, eggs, miso. Something domestic and grounding. Satoru yawned into Suguru’s shoulder, nuzzling the back of his neck like he couldn’t bear to wake up fully unless Suguru did too.

When they finally stumbled into the kitchen — sleep-rumpled, Suguru waddling slightly, Satoru trailing — they found Mimiko and Nanako already eating at the table, legs swinging, mugs steaming beside their bowls.

They looked up in unison. Paused. And then — twin glares. Daggers. Venomous. Instant and unfiltered.

Right at Satoru.

Satoru blinked, blinked again, then plastered on that stupid lopsided grin.

“Good morning, ladies.”

They didn’t answer. Just stared. Unimpressed. Silently judging.

Suguru chuckled softly behind his hand, trying not to smile too obviously as he leaned into Satoru’s side.

Satoru draped an arm around his shoulders anyway, undeterred, rubbing circles into Suguru’s belly with the same easy reverence he always carried when he touched him there.

Neither of them said anything about the obvious.

Not about the knot-stiff walk. Not about the bruises under Suguru’s shirt. Not about the way Satoru wouldn’t stop touching him like he might disappear.

Instead, they stood there for a moment, quietly, while the girls went back to their food and the world spun on.

Suguru hadn’t planned for this. Not for pups. Not for swollen ankles or leaking nipples or sobbing in his mate’s arms because he’d been touched too good. Not for waking up like this — full, soft, kept.

But somehow, despite everything, he had it.

And maybe he didn’t get to be normal. Maybe he didn’t get peace. Maybe the world would always call him a curse.

But here, in this narrow kitchen, under Satoru’s hand, with the girls safe and fed and sunlight dancing in the window — here, he could believe in something.

Love, maybe.

Or at least something like it — messy and stubborn and eternal.

Because Satoru would always find him. In every life, in every timeline, in every broken version of the world.

And Suguru — aching and fucked-up and still trying to pretend he didn’t need it — would always end up back in his arms.