Work Text:
Megumi’s apartment smelled of lavender and the honey milk he usually made to soothe his throat after long days. On Friday nights, though, that scent mingled with the red wine Yuji brought, or with the coffee he himself brewed when the week had been especially rough.
That night it was wine. The bottle was nearly empty on the low living room table, next to two glasses and a plate of salty crackers playing the part of an improvised dinner. The rhythm felt familiar, comfortable. They’d been doing this for months, ever since a broken elevator forced them to spend a couple of hours stuck together and they discovered a mutual obsession with psychological horror manga. Now Fridays belonged to them.
“…and then little Haruki showed me the tooth that had fallen out—but not in his hand, no, he had it inside a jar of formaldehyde. His mom almost fainted.” Megumi chuckled softly, resting his cheek against the back of the sofa. His voice was gentler at home, stripped of the authoritative armor he wore at the clinic.
Yuji, sitting at the other end of the couch, let out a warm, loud laugh—a sound that filled the room with light. It was almost a contrast to see him there, with his strong, athletic build, large hands resting on his thighs, listening with genuine attention to his omega neighbor’s pediatric anecdotes.
“And what did you do?” Yuji asked, his brown eyes fixed on Megumi’s face.
“Convinced her it was normal, that at least he hadn’t swallowed it…” Megumi shifted, searching for a more comfortable position. The brush of the loose fabric of his hoodie against his chest made him wince slightly. Without thinking, he brought a hand to his left pec, pressing gently in slow circles to ease the annoying friction. He’d been doing it more and more often these past few weeks.
Yuji watched the movement but said nothing. His fingers brushed the rim of his wine glass.
“Kids’ bodies are a mystery,” Yuji commented, trying to steer the conversation back. But his eyes—for the third time in the last few minutes—followed Megumi’s hand. They lingered for a second on the soft swell that showed under the gray hoodie fabric, right where the omega’s hand rested.
“You should see first-time moms, they’re the real…” Megumi stopped. Yuji’s gaze was back on his chest. It wasn’t a fleeting glance; there was an intensity in it that made Megumi swallow hard. He followed Yuji’s line of sight and looked down at himself.
The gray hoodie, which moments ago had only been comfortably loose, now displayed two small, dark, wet circles over his pecs. A violent, sudden heat rushed up his neck, staining his cheeks, his ears, all the way to the roots of his dark hair.
“Oh,” was all he managed to say, his voice high-pitched with embarrassment. He immediately crossed his arms over his chest, pressing the fabric against his skin as if he could erase the stains. The dampness had already soaked through, though, leaving two telltale circles.
Yuji didn’t look away. His eyes, which had been locked on Megumi’s chest a second ago, slowly lifted to meet his. There was no mockery in his expression—only an attention that now felt much heavier.
“Megumi?” His voice was a little deeper than before. A silent question.
Megumi tightened his arms, feeling the faint sting of pressure on his sensitive chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, cursing his luck. They’d spent months building friendship, trust, in these Friday nights. Damn it.
“It’s nothing serious,” he said quickly, barely stammering. “It’s… from work. Being around pups, babies, all the crying… my body reacts. It’s biological, just a response, it’s not… it’s just buildup. It’s fine.”
He made a vague gesture with one hand, as if brushing it off, but the words came out rushed and mortified. Yuji kept looking at him, and Megumi could feel the weight of his attention like a warm blanket. The trust was still there, but this was uncharted territory.
Yuji leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. The alpha’s scent—wet earth and sweet citrus—intensified just a little, wrapping around Megumi.
“Megumi,” he said the name again, with a calm that contrasted with the flush still burning across the omega’s face. “It hurts, doesn’t it? That’s why you keep touching them.”
It wasn’t a question. Yuji had been watching.
Megumi stayed silent, arms still crossed over his chest, feeling the dull throb of his swollen pecs, the wetness slowly spreading against the hoodie fabric. Yuji’s gaze didn’t drop from his eyes, but the atmosphere in the room had shifted. The wine, the friendship, the trust… everything seemed to have condensed into the small space separating them on the couch.
Megumi didn’t answer right away. His fingers clung to the hoodie sleeves as if that thin layer of fabric could shield him from the heat radiating from the alpha just a meter away.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he lied, his voice smaller than he wanted.
Yuji raised an eyebrow. His expression was hard to read, but the slow, measured tapping of his fingers on his own knee betrayed that he wasn’t buying it for a second.
“Megumi.” This time his name sounded lower, closer. Yuji leaned in a little more until the earthy-citrus scent completely enveloped the omega. “I’ve seen you squirm on the couch for the last hour. Seen you grit your teeth when you lean the wrong way. And now…”
He paused, and despite his good intentions, his eyes flicked down for a moment to the swell Megumi was still pressing against his chest. It wasn’t pure lust shining in them—or at least not only that. There was something darker, yes, but also a kind of… frustration. As if it genuinely bothered him to see his friend uncomfortable.
“…now your shirt is soaked and you’re still saying it’s nothing.”
Megumi felt his face was about to catch fire. He opened his mouth to say something, to downplay it again, but Yuji cut him off with a small hand gesture.
“I’m not judging you. You know I’m not.”
“I know,” Megumi admitted, and the shame began mixing with something closer to relief. Because it was true. Yuji wasn’t one of those alphas who looked at omegas like prey. He was direct, sometimes brutally honest, but in all these months of shared Fridays he had never once made an inappropriate comment.
Until now.
“It’s just…” Megumi sighed, finally releasing the pressure on his arms in resignation. The hoodie now showed two larger wet circles, and his left nipple stood out against the fabric with obscene clarity. He felt so exposed he wanted to sink into the couch. “It’s annoying. The first days it wasn’t like this, but now they fill up a lot and… yeah. It rubs. It hurts a little.”
Yuji nodded slowly, as if processing the information. For once, his eyes stayed on Megumi’s face. But the omega noticed how his nostrils flared just slightly, inhaling. The sweet scent of his milk must have grown stronger with the wetness. There was no way Yuji couldn’t smell it.
“Have you thought about doing something about it?” the alpha asked, in a surprisingly neutral tone considering what came next. “Because I’ve heard if you don’t empty them, it can get worse. Infections, stuff like that.”
Megumi blinked.
“You know about this?”
Yuji shrugged, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.
“I have nephews. My sister went through something similar when she couldn’t breastfeed. And also…” his lips curved into a warm smile, “…I’m an alpha for a reason. It’s basic knowledge.”
“Oh.” Megumi didn’t know what else to say. The fact that Yuji talked about it so naturally—as if it were a conversation about the weather or the latest manga they’d read—made some of his tension melt away. He was still mortified, but at least he didn’t feel judged.
The silence that followed was different. Denser. Yuji looked at him with an intensity Megumi already knew—the same one he wore when they debated twisted plot twists. But now there was something extra. A spark.
“Megumi,” Yuji said at last, and his voice had dropped an octave, turning rougher. “I can help you.”
The omega froze.
“What?”
“If you want, of course,” Yuji added quickly, though he didn’t back down. In fact, he shifted slightly on the couch, closing the distance a little more. His strong body seemed to take up all the space now, but his face didn’t have the predatory look Megumi expected from an alpha in this situation. There was something almost tender in the way he frowned. “I don’t like seeing you like this. You’ve been uncomfortable for weeks, and I… well. I have a mouth. And I’m not scared of a little milk.”
“Itadori!” Megumi nearly choked on his own spit. His face, which had just started returning to normal, blazed red again. His hands were shaking. “You can’t just say that like—”
“Like what?” Yuji tilted his head, and damn it, there *was* a trace of amusement in his eyes now. But his voice stayed steady, serious. “I’m offering you a solution. That’s all.”
“It’s not ‘all’,” Megumi huffed, though he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. His legs wouldn’t move, and something in the pit of his stomach twisted in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely. “It’s… weird.”
“Is it weird because I’m an alpha?” Yuji asked, and there was a challenge in his words, but also brutal honesty. “Because if I offered to take you to the hospital or buy you a breast pump, you wouldn’t be reacting like this.”
Megumi wanted to argue, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. Because it was true. If Yuji had said “I’ll go to the pharmacy,” it would have been just another Friday. But what he was proposing was… it was…
“It’s not just because you’re an alpha,” he managed at last, voice cracking. “It’s… we know each other. We’re friends.”
“Exactly,” Yuji nodded, as if that settled everything. “We’re friends. And you need help, and I want to give it to you. No games. No dying of embarrassment at a hospital. No wasting money on something I can do right now.”
He paused, and when he spoke again his tone had softened around the edges. He was no longer the strong alpha; he was the guy who shared wine with him on Fridays and saved the latest chapter of the manga he knew Megumi would love.
“I won’t lie to you, Megumi. It’s not just charity. I like you. Have for a while. And the idea of having you like this, of tasting you… of course it turns me on. But more than that—” his fingers reached out, brushing just barely against Megumi’s wrist where he still clutched the hoodie fabric, “—it pisses me off to see you in pain. And if there’s anything I can do to make you stop hurting, I’m going to do it. With or without the rest.”
Megumi’s heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his swollen chest, throbbing with a dull ache and a need his body understood even if his mind refused. Yuji’s hand on his wrist was warm, steady, and didn’t move. It waited.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Yuji said, and though his jaw was tense, his eyes were still the same as always. “But if you want… if you trust me… I can help you. And if you want me to stop later, I stop. Alpha’s word.”
Megumi swallowed. His hoodie was already ruined, and the dull ache in his chest had turned into an insistent pulse his body read as urgency. Yuji’s gaze hadn’t dropped once since he made the offer. He was waiting for an answer, leaving the control in Megumi’s hands.
And damn it, that was exactly what made Megumi hesitate.
“What if I don’t want you to stop?” he asked, so quietly it was almost a whisper.
Yuji smiled. Not a predatory smile—not completely. It was the smile he wore when Megumi admitted he was right about a plot twist. Warm. Satisfied. And a little dangerous.
“That, Megumi… would be a perfect Friday.”
Megumi’s response was barely a nod. A yes so small it almost went unnoticed, but Itadori caught it instantly.
“Come here,” the alpha said, and though it was just one word, it sounded like a promise.
He didn’t have to pull him. Megumi moved on his own, though his legs trembled slightly as he shifted on the couch until he was facing Itadori. The alpha had spread his legs just enough to create space for the omega to settle between them, and when Megumi knelt on the cushion, his knees were framed by Itadori’s strong thighs.
They were so different. Itadori was all muscle and warmth, a body built for motion but now perfectly still, waiting. And Megumi, with his narrow waist and small hips, barely reached chest height even on his knees. The size difference was obvious, and for a moment he thought he might faint just from imagining how he was going to fit in the alpha’s lap.
But Itadori didn’t rush him.
“Can I?” he asked, bringing his hands to the hem of Megumi’s hoodie. His fingers were thick, calloused from training, but the touch was surprisingly gentle.
Megumi nodded, not trusting his voice.
Itadori lifted the garment with deliberate slowness. The gray fabric rose over the omega’s torso, first revealing his flat stomach, then the faint outline of ribs, and finally… his chest. Itadori sucked in a breath.
They weren’t just pecs anymore. The milk had transformed them into something far more pronounced: two soft, generous curves jutting from Megumi’s slender frame with an almost unreal fullness. The skin was pale, nearly translucent, fine blue veins branching toward the nipples. Those were swollen, a darker rose than usual, and white droplets beaded from them, already leaving wet trails along the underside of each breast.
Itadori swallowed audibly.
“Fuck, Megumi,” he murmured, voice hoarse, barely contained. “You’re… incredible.”
Megumi wanted to cover himself, but Itadori’s hands got there first. Not to stop him, but to slide along his waist—hot and firm—and guide him forward.
“Come here,” Itadori said again, and this time there was real need in his tone. Not impatience, but a tightly leashed hunger.
Megumi let himself be guided, and suddenly his knees were straddling Itadori’s hips, mounting him on the couch. The position put him higher, his chest perfectly level with the alpha’s mouth. Too close. The heat radiating from Itadori was overwhelming, and the scent of wet earth and sweet citrus had thickened until it felt almost solid, wrapping around him like a second skin.
But beneath that scent, Megumi felt it: the raw, primal trace of alpha arousal. And he knew Itadori could smell his in return, because the alpha’s chest heaved with every breath, and the slickness between Megumi’s thighs was a secret his own scent betrayed mercilessly.
“You sure?” Itadori asked one last time, hands resting on Megumi’s narrow hips, thumbs drawing slow circles over the bones.
“Sure,” Megumi answered, and this time his voice didn’t shake.
Itadori leaned forward, but he didn’t close his eyes. That was the first thing Megumi noticed: the alpha looked straight into his eyes as his mouth approached his left breast. The eye contact was as intense as what was coming, a connection that didn’t let him hide or dissociate.
The first lick was tentative for someone like Itadori. The tip of his tongue brushed the nipple, gathering the beads of milk that had collected, and Megumi let out a high, almost squeaky sound that made Itadori’s lips curve against his skin.
“Easy,” the alpha murmured against his chest, the vibration traveling down Megumi’s spine. “I’ve got you.”
And then he sucked.
Megumi’s world narrowed to that single point of contact. Itadori’s mouth was hot, wet, and when he truly began to suck, the pressure finally released the built-up milk. It was like unclogging a river. He felt weeks of tension dissolve in waves, and each pull was such profound relief that a rough moan escaped him.
Itadori never broke eye contact. His brown eyes pinned Megumi from below with an intensity that made him feel exposed far beyond the physical. Megumi watched the alpha’s pupils dilate with every swallow, watched his eyelids hood in pleasure but never fully close. It was possessive, that gaze. As if Itadori wanted to memorize every single reaction.
“Smells so good,” Itadori growled against his skin, pulling back just enough to breathe. His chin was wet, lips glistening with milk, voice low and wrecked with arousal. “You smell like… fuck, Megumi. You’re driving me insane.”
Megumi could barely form words. His hands clutched Itadori’s broad shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath his fingers as the alpha held himself back. Because Itadori was trembling too. Just barely, almost imperceptibly, but there. His scent had grown thick, heavy, mingling with Megumi’s until the couch was enveloped in a cloud of them breathing each other in.
“The other one,” Megumi gasped, unsure if it was a plea or a demand. His right breast was leaking, milk trailing down the curve and disappearing into his stomach, the ache now a dull throb begging for the same attention.
Itadori released the left nipple with a small, wet pop. It was darker, more swollen, but the pressure was gone. The alpha looked at his work for a moment, then his hand slid up Megumi’s back to tangle in dark hair, gently tugging his head down.
“Look at me,” Itadori said, voice more rough than stern. “I want to see you while I do it.”
Megumi obeyed, and their foreheads nearly touched as Itadori leaned toward the other breast. Eye contact was unavoidable now: faces inches apart, breaths mingling, those burning brown eyes searing him from the inside.
The first suck on the right was deeper. Itadori didn’t hold back anymore. His mouth covered the nipple and part of the areola, sucking with a hunger that made Megumi arch and press his hips down against Itadori’s stomach. He felt the alpha’s hardness against his thigh and knew he wasn’t the only one losing control.
“Like that,” Megumi whispered, not even sure what he was saying, head full of static and chest easing with every pull of those skilled lips. “Itadori…”
The alpha groaned against his skin—a low, guttural sound that vibrated straight into Megumi’s sensitive chest and made him see stars. Itadori sucked in a rhythm that alternated slow and deep, as if savoring every drop, tongue pressing the nipple against the roof of his mouth and sending sparks of pleasure straight to Megumi’s core.
One of Itadori’s hands left his hip to slide up his side, fingers splaying to cover nearly the entire narrow waist. When they reached the unoccupied breast, they brushed lightly, and Megumi shuddered. The fingertips were wet with milk; when Itadori brought them to his own lips to taste, Megumi thought he might die right there.
“Sweet,” Itadori said, voice shattered, eyes blazing with pure want. “You’re so fucking sweet, Megumi.”
He couldn’t answer. Itadori latched on again, and this time his fingers worked the other nipple, pinching gently until milk spurted in a thin white stream—over his hand, his wrist, down Megumi’s stomach. The sight was obscene, and Itadori looked at it like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
The room smelled unbearable. Milk, wet earth, citrus, the two of them blending into one overwhelming thing that left Megumi dizzy, drunk on need. Every suck tugged at something wired straight to his core, and the slickness between his thighs was now impossible to ignore.
Itadori knew. Of course he knew. The alpha pulled off the right breast with a choked groan. Both nipples were swollen now, glistening, still dripping but with far less pressure. Megumi felt lighter, almost floating, but also empty in a different way—aching for something he couldn’t name.
“Megumi,” Itadori growled, voice pure static, wrecked with desire. Milk clung to his chin, his lips; those brown eyes burned with an intensity that made Megumi feel like he was melting. He was straddling him, trembling in his lap, and his scent said everything his words couldn’t form.
Itadori took Megumi’s chin with his free hand—the one still dripping milk—and pulled him down until their foreheads touched softly.
“I told you I’d help you,” he murmured against his lips, breath scented with himself and the milk he’d just drunk. “But now… now I need you to tell me what you want. Because if we keep going like this, I won’t be able to stop.”
Megumi trembled. His breasts brushed Itadori’s broad chest, smearing milk across his shirt, and they were so close he could count every beat of the alpha’s heart. Or maybe it was his own. He couldn’t tell anymore.
“I don’t want you to stop,” he whispered, the words steadier than he felt. “I want… everything.”
Itadori smiled against his lips. Not a gentle smile. It was the smile of an alpha who’d been holding back and had just been given permission to let go.
“That’s it,” Itadori said, hands sliding to Megumi’s hips with a determination that made the omega gasp. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
And then he kissed him. The taste of his own milk on Itadori’s lips, the alpha’s tongue invading his mouth with the same hunger he’d used to suckle his chest, the press of their bodies, the scent, the heat… Megumi lost himself in it, in him, in the promise that this was only the beginning of a Friday that was, indeed, turning perfect.
The kiss broke with a thin thread of saliva that gleamed for an instant before vanishing. Megumi was breathless, lips swollen, chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. Milk still dripped from his nipples, forming small white rivers that disappeared into the sparse hair on Itadori’s chest, staining his dark shirt with obscene contrast.
Itadori looked at him like he was the only thing that existed in the world.
“Megumi,” he said, voice deep, almost reverent. “Down.”
It wasn’t a harsh command, but a gentle invitation. His huge, warm hands slid from Megumi’s hips to his thighs, guiding him. Megumi moved clumsily, trembling legs descending from Itadori’s lap until he was kneeling in front of him on the rug in front of the couch.
But Itadori shook his head.
“Not here.”
And then, with a slowness that made Megumi’s heart lurch, the alpha slid off the couch. His knees hit the rug with a dull sound, and suddenly Itadori was there—kneeling in front of him, brown eyes level with Megumi’s lower belly.
The reversal of power was so sudden Megumi felt the air leave his lungs. Itadori—the huge alpha, broad shoulders, arms that could lift the world—was on his knees before him. Not in submission, but in devotion. As if the place he occupied in front of his omega was the only place he wanted to be.
“Like this,” Itadori murmured, and his hands rose along Megumi’s calves, slow, caressing the bare skin between the hem of his pants and his knees. “This is good.”
Megumi couldn’t speak. His fingers clutched Itadori’s shoulders to keep from falling, feeling the solid muscle beneath his palms, the heat radiating from the alpha like a furnace.
Itadori looked up. His brown eyes met Megumi’s, and what was in them wasn’t the urgency of a starving alpha, but something deeper. A silent question. Permission asked with every heartbeat.
“Can I?” he asked, voice a hoarse whisper that vibrated in the space between them.
Megumi nodded. He couldn’t do anything else.
Itadori’s hands slid to the waistband of Megumi’s pants—gray joggers already stained with milk at the waist. His fingers hooked into the fabric and began to pull them down with a slowness that bordered on ritual.
The material descended, first revealing narrow hips, sharp bones beneath pale skin. Then the sparse dark hair, and finally, when the pants pooled at his knees, the wet evidence of his arousal. The simple black boxer briefs were soaked, dark fabric clinging to his skin, betraying the slick that had been gathering since Itadori first put his mouth on his chest.
Itadori let out a choked, low groan—barely an echo of what he must have been feeling. His nostrils flared, inhaling the scent that had intensified until it was almost solid: lavender, milk, and beneath it, the sweet, primal smell of an aroused omega.
“Megumi,” Itadori said, and his name sounded like a prayer. “You smell… fuck, you smell like you were made for me.”
His fingers trembled just slightly as they hooked the elastic of the boxer. He looked up again, seeking confirmation, and Megumi had to bite his lip to keep from moaning just from that look. Because Itadori wasn’t an alpha who took. He was an alpha who asked, who waited, who placed every decision in his omega’s hands.
“Please,” Megumi whispered, not even sure what he was asking for, but Itadori seemed to understand perfectly.
The boxer came down.
Cool air hit Megumi’s sensitive skin, but it lasted only a second. Because immediately after, Itadori leaned forward and exhaled against him—a hot breath that made his whole body shudder. His hands settled on the insides of Megumi’s thighs, gently pushing them wider, and Megumi obeyed without thinking, knees sliding on the rug until he was completely exposed before the alpha.
Itadori looked. Not with lust, not with the urgency of someone who wants to consume, but with the attention of someone studying something sacred. His eyes traced every fold, every wet place, and when his fingers barely brushed the sensitive skin of the inner thigh, Megumi gasped.
“You’re beautiful,” Itadori murmured, voice so sincere Megumi felt tears prick his eyes. “You’re always beautiful, but like this… god, Megumi.”
And then he leaned in.
The first contact was his nose, brushing lightly against his mound, inhaling deeply. Itadori groaned against his skin—a sound so laden with desire that Megumi’s knees buckled. The alpha’s hands steadied him firmly, keeping him upright, and then his mouth…
His mouth opened over him.
Itadori’s tongue was broad, hot, and when it slid between his folds in one slow, deliberate stroke, Megumi arched with a moan he couldn’t contain. His fingers tangled in Itadori’s pink hair, clutching as if it were the only thing anchoring him to earth.
Itadori made a low sound, almost a purr, and repeated the motion. His tongue traveled from the entrance to the most sensitive spot, and when he reached it, he paused. The tip pressed lightly, drawing slow circles that made Megumi’s legs tremble uncontrollably.
“Ita… dori,” Megumi gasped, voice breaking into two syllables.
The alpha answered with a moan that vibrated directly against him, and Megumi saw stars. Itadori’s hands gripped his thighs harder, spreading them wider, and his mouth grew hungrier. He sucked, licked, alternated between slow movements that drove him insane and faster ones that made his hips move on their own, chasing more, always more.
And all the while, Itadori watched him.
Megumi looked down and met those burning brown eyes fixed on him—devoted, reverent—and he nearly came undone right then. Itadori didn’t close his eyes. He didn’t miss a single reaction: the way Megumi’s eyelids fluttered, how his mouth opened in silent moans, how his fingers tugged desperately at pink hair.
“You’re perfect,” Itadori murmured against him, pulling back just enough to speak, his hot breath another caress. “I want to hear you, Megumi. I want you to know who’s doing this to you.”
And he dove back in.
His tongue pushed inside, pressing forward with a force that made Megumi cry out. It wasn’t a contained moan—it was a real, desperate scream that echoed in the empty room. Itadori groaned into him, the sound vibrating against sensitive walls, and then he began to move. His tongue pumped inside with a rhythm that promised more, and his fingers—when had he put his fingers there?—began to play with the sensitive spot his tongue had left.
The pleasure was too much. It was a flood rising from his belly, mingling with the lingering sensation of his still-dripping breasts, with Itadori’s scent enveloping him, with the image of that huge alpha kneeling between his legs, devouring him like a thirsty man and Megumi the only water in the desert.
“I’m going to…” he tried to say, but the words dissolved into a high moan when Itadori sucked hard.
The alpha doubled the pace. His tongue moved inside with a skill that made thinking impossible, and his mouth sucked with alternating pressure that made Megumi’s whole body tense like a string about to snap.
Itadori looked up from below. His chin was wet, lips glistening, brown eyes burning with an intensity Megumi had never seen. It wasn’t possession shining in them. It was worship.
“Come,” Itadori murmured against his skin, voice a hoarse growl, an order wrapped in a plea. “Come for me, Megumi. I want to taste you.”
That was all it took.
The orgasm hit like a wave, ripping a scream from him that broke into a sob. His body arched, fingers yanking Itadori’s hair with a force that must have hurt, and he felt the alpha moan against him, tongue still moving, prolonging every spasm, drinking every drop of his pleasure like it was his own salvation.
Megumi’s legs finally gave out. He would have collapsed if Itadori hadn’t caught him, strong arms wrapping around his waist and guiding him down with a gentleness that contrasted with the voracity of moments before. Megumi ended up seated in his lap again, but now Itadori was on the floor with him, legs spread, omega fitted between them, trembling, panting, lost.
Itadori held him. His hands stroked slow paths down his back, face buried in Megumi’s neck, breath hot and ragged. Megumi felt something hard pressing against his thigh—the evidence of Itadori’s restrained desire—but the alpha didn’t move. He just held him, rocked him, let him come back to himself slowly.
“You’re incredible,” Itadori whispered against his skin, voice trembling. “The most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, tasted, felt. I’ll never… never get tired of this.”
Megumi let out a shaky laugh, still floating in the afterglow.
“Itadori,” he said, voice barely a thread. “You too… you’re…”
Itadori lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed, lips swollen and shiny, and in his eyes was something Megumi had never seen in an alpha: vulnerability. Need, yes, but also a worship so deep it seemed to hurt him.
“Megumi,” he said, voice low, rough, but also soft—like he was sharing a secret. “Can I…? Can I keep going? I want to feel you. I want to be inside you. I want…” He swallowed, hands tightening on Megumi’s hips with a pressure that contrasted with the sweetness of his words. “I want to worship you the way you deserve. Let me worship you.”
It wasn’t the voice of an alpha claiming. It was the voice of an alpha begging. And Megumi felt something soften in his chest, felt his body respond before his mind could catch up.
“Yes,” he whispered, hands lowering to unbuckle Itadori’s belt with still-trembling fingers. “Yes, I want to. But I want to see you. I want you to look at me like you have until now. Like…”
“Like you’re my god,” Itadori finished, voice so sincere Megumi felt the air leave him. “Because you are. To me, you are.”
Megumi couldn’t answer. His fingers finished undoing Itadori’s pants, and the alpha shifted just enough to shed them, but he never broke eye contact. Not for a second. Those brown eyes stayed fixed on Megumi like he was the center of the universe, and when they were both naked, Itadori took Megumi’s face between his huge hands with a tenderness that contrasted with everything that had happened before.
“Can I?” he asked again—and it was the third time, and each time it sounded more sacred.
Megumi nodded, forehead resting against Itadori’s.
“Yes,” he said, voice broken. “Yes, please.”
Itadori groaned—a low, desperate sound—and his hands lowered to Megumi’s hips to lift him slightly. The position was perfect: Megumi in his lap, thighs on either side of the alpha’s hips, breasts still dripping milk onto Itadori’s chest, faces so close they shared the same breath.
The tip of Itadori brushed his entrance, and both of them shuddered. Megumi felt the alpha hold his breath, felt his fingers grip his hips with contained desperation.
“Look at me,” Itadori pleaded, voice barely a whisper. “Please, Megumi. Don’t close your eyes. I want to see you when I enter you.”
Megumi obeyed. Their eyes met—brown against green—and in them he saw everything: desire, worship, and something deeper no word could name.
“I’m ready,” Megumi whispered.
Itadori nodded and began to push. The entry was slow, deliberate. He took him with a patience that bordered on ritual, eyes never leaving Megumi’s face, cataloging every shift in expression, every small moan. When he was fully inside, they both gasped in unison, foreheads pressing together again.
“You’re perfect,” Itadori murmured, hands sliding up Megumi’s back to hold him, to cradle him. “You’re so perfect, Megumi. I’ve never felt like this. Never…”
Itadori moved inside him with a slowness that bordered on reverence. Every thrust was deep, measured, as if he wanted to savor every inch of the journey, every millimeter of Megumi wrapped around him. His hands roamed Megumi’s back with trembling caresses, brown eyes never leaving his face for a second.
“Like this,” Itadori murmured, voice cracked from the effort of holding back. “Like this is good, right? Do you like it like this?”
Megumi moaned, fingers digging into the alpha’s shoulders. Yes, he liked it. He liked the way Itadori filled him, the way his breasts dripped milk onto the alpha’s chest, the way every slow thrust made his body twist, chasing more. But there was also that other thing. That fire in his belly that gentleness couldn’t quench, that primal need his omega had been building for weeks alongside the milk in his chest.
Itadori pushed in with another slow thrust, and this time Megumi felt his own instincts twist under his skin.
“Yuuji,” he said, and his voice came out firmer than he expected.
Itadori looked up immediately, eyes wide, attentive. Always attentive. Like a dog waiting for a command.
“Yes? What do you need? Slower? Do you want me to stop?” he asked, already starting to still, to check, to make sure everything was okay.
And Megumi felt something break inside him. Not frustration, but… tenderness, yes, but also urgency. Because they’d had months of Fridays, of laughter and wine and manga, and now this. Now Itadori was inside him, trembling with restraint, and he was still asking. Always asking. Always making sure.
It was adorable. It was perfect. But right now, with his body on fire, milk still dripping from his breasts, and the slick between his thighs soaking Itadori’s, Megumi didn’t want adorable. He wanted his alpha to take him the way his omega needed to be taken.
His hands rose to frame Itadori’s face. The alpha’s brown eyes blinked, confused, and Megumi felt his hips stop completely, waiting for instructions.
“Yuuji,” Megumi said, and his voice was low, lower than usual, carrying something that made the alpha’s pupils blow wide. “Shut up.”
Itadori blinked.
“What?”
“I said—” Megumi leaned forward, lips brushing Itadori’s in an almost chaste touch, “—close your mouth. And fuck me.”
The silence that followed was electric. Megumi felt Itadori’s body tense beneath him, fingers digging into his hips with a pressure that promised bruises. He watched those eyes darken, watched something primal and starving rise behind the contained worship.
“Megumi,” Itadori growled, and his voice was different. Not the alpha who asked—this was the alpha about to take.
“Don’t ask,” Megumi whispered against his lips, feeling his own scent spike, his body demanding, commanding. “Do it. Now.”
It was like releasing a chain.
The first thrust was so brutal Megumi lost his breath. Itadori gripped his hips with both hands, fingers sinking into soft flesh, and slammed him down with a force that spread his knees wider, arched his back, made his breasts bounce with the motion. Milk spurted from his nipples in white threads that splashed across Itadori’s face and chest, and the alpha growled at the hot feel of it on his skin.
“Like that,” Megumi gasped, voice breaking into a moan when Itadori repeated the movement. “Like that, Yuuji. Like that.”
Itadori wasn’t asking anymore. His face had sharpened, eyes half-lidded with an intensity that made Megumi feel devoured from the inside. His hips moved with relentless rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room alongside their choked moans.
“Megumi,” Itadori growled, voice barely human. “Megumi, you’re driving me insane. You smell… you taste… you feel so tight, so hot…”
His words dissolved into a groan when Megumi clenched on purpose, and the alpha’s fingers dug in so hard Megumi knew he’d carry those marks for days. He loved it.
“More,” Megumi demanded, fingers tangling in pink hair, yanking hard to make the alpha look at him. “I want more. Don’t hold back.”
Itadori looked. His brown eyes were nearly black with desire, chest heaving, mouth open, panting, starving.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, voice a growl, but with a thread of plea still in it.
Megumi slid one hand from hair to cheek, stroking the flushed skin with a tenderness that contrasted with everything else.
“You won’t hurt me,” he whispered. “I trust you. But right now I need you to stop treating me like glass and fuck me like what I am.”
“And what are you?” Itadori asked, voice rough, hips still moving in a rhythm that was no longer slow but not yet everything Megumi knew he could give.
Megumi tilted his head, lips brushing Itadori’s ear.
“I’m your omega,” he whispered, and felt the alpha’s entire body lock up beneath him. “And I need my alpha to fuck me like one.”
It was like unleashing a beast.
Itadori roared. Not a moan, not a growl—a real roar that rumbled from deep in his chest and vibrated through Megumi’s bones. His hands dropped from hips to ass, gripping with a strength that lifted him slightly, and then he moved.
No more slowness. No more questions. Itadori slammed him down onto his cock with every thrust, hips rising to meet Megumi’s in a frantic rhythm that made the omega scream. Megumi’s breasts bounced with each impact, milk spurting in erratic streams that stained them both, and the sight was so obscene Itadori growled and ducked his head to catch a nipple in his mouth.
“Yuuji!” Megumi cried when the suction combined with a particularly deep thrust.
Itadori sucked with a hunger that had zero restraint left. He swallowed the milk that flowed while his hips never stopped moving, and the dual stimulation made Megumi see stars. His fingers clutched pink hair, yanking hard, and Itadori moaned into his chest, the sound vibrating straight into his nerves.
“That’s how I want you,” Megumi panted, not even sure what he was saying, head full of static and pleasure. “Like that, Yuuji, like that…”
Itadori released the nipple with a wet pop and lifted his head. His face was smeared with milk, lips shining, eyes burning with a fire Megumi had never seen.
“You asked for it,” he growled, voice deep, guttural, pure alpha. “Now take it.”
His hands lifted Megumi almost completely, then slammed him down in one brutal thrust that stole his voice. The sound that came out of Megumi’s throat was a high, broken whimper as Itadori set an unforgiving pace. Every thrust filled him completely, every withdrawal left an aching emptiness immediately replaced with a force that made his thighs shake, his breasts leak more, his cunt clench around Itadori’s cock like it never wanted to let go.
The couch creaked beneath them. The rug bunched up. The table with the wine glasses was inches from their heads, and in some lucid corner of his mind Megumi thought everything was going to fall. But he didn’t care. Nothing mattered except the way Itadori filled him, claimed him, made him his.
“Megumi,” Itadori growled, voice a ragged thread. “Megumi, I’m not gonna last… you’re so tight, so hot, and you smell so good I’m gonna—”
“Come,” Megumi gasped, hands cupping the alpha’s face, forcing him to look. “Come inside me, Yuuji. Fill me. I want to feel you.”
Itadori shouted. A torn, animal sound as his hips slammed against Megumi’s in one final, deep thrust, burying himself completely. Megumi felt it—the hot rush of the alpha’s release flooding him in waves—and that heat, combined with everything else, pushed him over the edge too.
“Yuuji,” he moaned, body locking tight, breasts spurting more milk, cunt spasming around Itadori in a clench that pulled another groan from the alpha.
They fell together. Itadori wrapped him in arms that almost hurt, burying his face in Megumi’s neck as they trembled, bodies shaking with the last waves of orgasm. Megumi felt the alpha’s arms surround him completely, felt his chest rise and fall against his own, felt lips press messy kisses to his neck, jaw, cheek.
“Megumi,” Itadori whispered, voice soft again, cracked with emotion. “Megumi, sorry if I was too rough, sorry, I didn’t want to—”
Megumi silenced him with a kiss. It was messy, tasting of milk and sweat and them, but when they parted Itadori’s eyes were bright, cheeks wet, and Megumi knew it wasn’t just milk.
“Don’t apologize,” he said, stroking the tangled pink hair. “It was exactly what I needed. What I needed from you.”
Itadori let out a shaky laugh, burying his face in Megumi’s neck again.
“It’s just… you’re so perfect,” he murmured against his skin. “And I love you so much, and I was scared of hurting you, of it not being what you wanted, of—”
“Yuuji,” Megumi interrupted, smiling into his voice. “I just asked you to fuck me like an animal and now you’re worried if I liked it?”
Itadori lifted his head, cheeks flaming, mouth twisting in a half-embarrassed, half-laughing grimace.
“Well… did you like it?”
Megumi looked at him. At this huge alpha who could roar and take him with a force that left him shaking, but five seconds later was looking at him with puppy eyes asking if it was okay. And he knew there was no one else in the world he wanted to be with.
“Yuuji,” he said, hands framing his face again. “I loved it. And I want it to happen again. Every Friday. And maybe Wednesdays too. And Mondays.”
Itadori’s smile was so bright Megumi had to close his eyes against it.
“Can I stay tonight?” the alpha asked, voice no longer animal at all—just a boy in love.
“Stupid question,” Megumi answered, and kissed him again.
As the kiss stretched on, as Itadori’s fingers traced slow paths down his back and his breasts still leaked milk onto the alpha’s chest, Megumi thought that no Friday had ever been this perfect before. And he knew, with a certainty that filled him completely, that it wouldn’t be the last.