Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Just like every other time it had happened, Geto Suguru was alone. 

Sitting in the dark of the (finally quiet) living room, body already half-molded into his worn couch, he let out a sigh and wordless thanks that tomorrow was Saturday. 

One would think that being the father of three kids wouldn’t be that much more difficult than being the father of two. 

Well, that assumption was incorrect. 

Now, don’t get him wrong, he loved each and every one of his kids. But looking around the space in front of him, at the strewn crayons, overturned school bags and horrifically mutilated Barbies, the math simply wasn’t adding up. This felt like the mess of a hoard of children rather than that of three eight-year-olds.

But he found he couldn’t really be upset, not when just sixty minutes prior he’d watched the girls rope Megumi into playing doctor with their stuffed animals, all three of them with a rather serious expression on their baby faces as they announced to their ‘patient’ that he needed to have head surgery. 

This of course meant Geto had to quickly intervene when he saw Nanako walking with scissors brandished in her hands toward where the other two held the stuffed doll down. 

So yeah, he couldn’t be upset when the mess symbolized his three kids were finally acting like siblings – something that had taken them 17 months to achieve. 

And now, after being in each other's lives for nearly a year and a half – and living together under one roof for the past four months – it was all coming together. 

Gone were the days of hair pulling (Nanako to Megumi) and stuffing food in shoes (Megumi to Mimiko) and arguing over everything from seating arrangements to sleeping arrangements to who got to hold whose hand when they went out. 

It wasn’t perfect, they still argued, but what siblings didn’t? At least that was the mantra Geto repeated when he was cutting gum out of Nanako’s hair for the third time. 

He only wished Gojo was around to see it. 

Not in a dead and dying way. No, just in a physically here way. 

Of course, the other man had witnessed a few things here and there – like the time Nanako offered the last of her favorite chocopie to her siblings – but, lately it felt like Gojo was barely around. 

And maybe it was a little dramatic of Geto to say that, but he hadn’t seen his mate in nearly two weeks because of an ‘urgent’ business trip he’d needed to take to New York City. 

Lately there had been a lot of ‘urgent’ trips.

And, listen, Geto was a reasonable adult and knew it was because Gojo Enterprises was looking to further expand in the North American market and Gojo needed to be there to not only oversee it but ensure his role in the company remained secure for when they finally announced to the world that the prideful heir of Gojo Enterprises, Gojo Satoru, was not only mated, but a mated omega . 

So, yeah, Geto was a reasonable adult who knew it made sense that he stay home in Japan and take care of their kids in the lavish home Gojo bought while he secured his – their – future. 

But sue him, he missed his mate.

And as if the deep yawning fracture of Geto’s longing and adoration for his mate were a beacon, his phone buzzed on the couch next to him. 

When he saw the ID, Geto all but perked up like a goddamn dog. 

> u up?

Followed by another buzz. 

> facetime?

There was a pause as he read the message – as it took a second to process in the exhausted recesses of his mind – but it didn’t last long before Geto was scrambling up from the couch and down the hallway. 

The phone gripped in his hand, Geto forcefully slowed himself down as he reached the girls’ door, creaking it open while trying to turn his already heaving breath shallow to glance inside and confirm both Mimiko and Nanako were asleep in their beds, nothing more than a bundle of fabric. Closing their door, he did the same with Megumi, having to fully push into the room to wrestle the book from the sleeping boy’s hand before shutting off the bedside lamp and heading back out, the door softly clicking behind him. 

And then he was off, dashing up the stairs to the second floor where his and Gojo’s bedroom and office were located. 

It’s barely a moment before Geto has shut the door, turned on the lights and flopped onto the bed. 

Hand digging in his pants to press against his already half-hard cock.

Pulling his flushed skin out and pumping his wrist, Geto quickly opened his phone and one-handedly sent a text.  

yeah. now? <

It’d been almost ten minutes since the original text, but his phone was already vibrating with an incoming call. A sign that Gojo was just as desperate for him as he was for his mate. He took a moment to spit in his hand before pointing the camera toward his now glistening dick, each stroke unveiling the flushed head. 

Like that, Geto answered the phone. 

As soon as the call connected, he let out a deep guttural groan already imagining the sight that would await him. It had been so long since they’d done this, “ Baby– ”

“Two lines mean positive, right?” 

Geto’s hand stopped moving. 

Eyes open from where they’d unconsciously fallen closed and finally glance at the screen in his hand. 

Unlike he’d expected, and unlike the many other times they’d done this, Gojo was not flushed and nude, nor was he teasing his nipples and in some overly intricate piece of lingerie – something he only wore when far from Geto and purposefully used to tease him. 

No. When Geto looked at the video, instead of a writhing pink-toned omega, he was met with the sight of a white marble countertop and a pink pregnancy stick. 

Before he could process it – or even begin to process it – the camera flipped to show just the upper half of Gojo’s face, brows furrowed. “Wait—why are you naked? Are you—are you jacking off without me? ” A shout of disapproval and horror rang in the uncannily quiet room and Geto quickly realized his hand was still grasping his softening dick. 

“Fuck–” He tossed the phone off to the side for a moment, stuffing his cock into his boxers and trying to ignore the burning of his cheeks as he pressed the meat of his palms into both eyes until his vision fizzled out in white.

Somewhere off to the side he heard his name being called, and a whine about how Geto couldn’t even wait until tomorrow when Gojo would be back, and a question of if Geto was ignoring him now. 

Geto’s brain was too busy rebooting itself to offer any reply. 

In his mind’s eye all he could see was pink lines. 

Pink. Pink. Pink. 

What the fuck was going on. Deep down he knew, he hated that he knew, because he wasn’t a child. He was teetering on the edge of thinking Gojo was serious, and also knowing this was very much in line with Gojo’s humor to pull a prank like this just to laugh at Geto’s reaction. 

His mouth felt dry.

The problem was, asking Gojo if he was joking probably wouldn’t be taken too well if he wasn’t . And if he was joking, the omega would probably just buckle down to see how much he could make Geto sweat.

It was a lose-lose for his mental sanity’s sake. 

Taking a deep shaking breath, and knowing he finally had to acknowledge the long, whining way Gojo was currently dragging out his name in an effort to grab his attention, Geto sat up properly against the pillows of his bed and picked up the phone. 

What met him was a cheeky smile, bright blue eyes, and mused white hair. A loosened tie and the background of garish pink tile, told him that Gojo had probably just gotten back to his hotel room and was sitting on the tub’s edge. 

“Are you that horny, Suguru? I didn’t take you for that kind of Alpha–”

“Are you pregnant?” Geto interrupted, immediately killing the teasing atmosphere. A stilled silence echoed between them as Geto waited for a reply. If this was a joke, he’d like to know. And if it wasn’t…

Instead of answering, a look of shock, a simple “oh” and a pink blush covered the other man’s expressions as he looked away from the camera. 

Geto waited. Waited for the answer that he already knew.

He just needed to hear it. 

Maybe Gojo knew that, knew him well enough to know that. 

There were positives in knowing each other since fifteen after all.

Gojo made an attempt to look back at the camera, his gaze darting to and away while his teeth nervously bit at his plush bottom lip. With a small laugh, Gojo asked, “Are you mad?”

And here was another positive aspect of truly knowing your partner: the undercurrent of worry that Gojo tried to push away with bullheaded confidence and laughter was so incredibly obvious to Geto. 

“Am I–? No. I’m…” He didn’t know what he was, so he changed course, “Is that seriously the best way you could think to tell me?”

“Well you know what they say, ripping bandaids off and all that.” Another chuckle. A pause. Gojo’s eyes found his from under white lashes. “So… you’re not mad?” 

An annoyed click of Geto’s tongue was completely overshadowed by the comforting look he offered his mate, “I already said no.”

A small smile of the rarer sort for Gojo, one that was entirely genuine in its hope and not false in any way, lit up his face, “Are you… happy then?”

Geto wanted to ask are you? But he doesn’t need to. Not when he can see it in the flush of his omega’s skin, the nervous bouncing of his body, and the way their eyes keep catching only for Gojo’s to skirt to the side. 

So he already knew Gojo’s answer.

For him? The answer is more complex. 

On one hand, it feels too quick – too easy – to just admit that yes he’s so happy, that the alpha in him is preening at the knowledge that every time he’d knotted and filled his omega was for good reason, that he wants to see this side of Satoru that he’d missed. 

But somewhere in his mind he can’t forget that the last pregnancy in his life hadn’t run so smoothly, had been bred from a place of hatred. 

There was also the fact that they already had three kids – although it wasn’t like they couldn’t afford another with his mate’s trust fund and high-salary career. 

And despite all this…

Geto often prided himself on being the level-headed one in their relationship, but he wasn’t a liar.

“Yeah,” he sighed, feeling the way his own smile split his cheeks, “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“Really?” A reverent whisper as if in disbelief. Blue eyes all but shining with heart-filled happiness, and Geto felt as if he was getting an inside look into the future of how much Gojo would glow when pregnant.  

“Really,” came the response and Geto watched as his mate's entire body relaxed with a weight he hadn’t noticed the other carrying until now. Slipping under the sheets and getting comfortable, Geto let his curiosity get the better of him, “How did you find out?”

The omega in question started moving about, bringing the phone with him as he walked around his hotel suite before slumping into the plush white comforter of the bed, matching Geto’s position. 

“It was the cravings. When I had Megumi all I wanted to eat all the time was spicy food – even food that wasn’t meant to be spicy. Like Tabasco in chocolate cereal.” He laughed at whatever face Geto was making. “So when the past month I found myself eating more spicy food at first I was like eh whatever it’s wintertime, that’s the perfect season for spicy meals, but then these past couple of days I found myself really craving strawberry ice cream with pickled jalapenos and when I almost started crying at the mini-market because they didn’t have pickled jalapenos, I had my a-ha moment and lo and behold…” He held the stick up to the camera, as if Geto didn’t have its image mesmerized. 

Gojo stared at it a little too fondly for something covered in pee.

But there was something to his look, to the soft healthy shine of his skin despite the dark bags that bracketed his eyes from two weeks of nonstop work that had Geto realizing that this was the right decision for them – difficulties to come and all. Because above all, he loved his mate. He loved their current life as it was, but he also knew more than anything he’d love any life they had together. 

Especially a life that had Gojo rambling happily about how he started this morning with a mochi dipped in yellow mustard. 

It was only when the phone in his hand quieted that Geto realized he hadn’t spoken in a while, had just been smiling at his chattering mate. 

The two of them looked at each other, the air between them thick not with anger or argument but a shy unsureness on how to proceed. Where one had been expecting a mutual orgasm, the other had been rearing up for a fight, and yet, here they were. On the same page. 

On the same side. As they should always be. 

“The paparazzi are going to be annoying, probably.” Gojo broke the silence, mouth downturned. The first negative thing that had been said so far. The first check in the ‘con’ box. 

Geto hummed. “Won’t be able to keep it a secret anymore,” he confirmed. 

With a huff and an annoyed groan, Gojo toppled onto his side and into the comforter – white temporarily blocking out half of the camera’s frame. Into the mattress, Gojo muttered, “Yeah.” Rolling onto his back and bringing the phone with him, Gojo repeated, “Yeah.”

A sigh. 

“We couldn’t keep it a secret forever. Honestly, I probably should have said something as soon as we mated but…” Gojo let the rest trail off, leaving Geto to fill in the blank. 

But their life was finally peaceful. 

But they finally had each other. 

But the kids didn’t deserve to be chased by relentless paparazzi. 

But it was easier to stay on the path already trodden. 

But why go looking for trouble. 

“Yeah,” He agreed, pulling the covers up a little higher but careful not to destroy the nest of t-shirts, kids’ hoodies, and blankets that surrounded the edge.

It wasn’t a lie that keeping this baby had one big beautiful pro at the end and a hundred cons. And it would be so easy to turn back now. They were very happy as they were and maybe it was selfish to want more.

“Tell me this is a bad idea.” Gojo finally broke, voice completely different from its bright excited tone just minutes earlier. The words were begging. “I’ve been going back and forth all day since yesterday when I realized I was pregnant. Tell me we shouldn’t do this and it’s just my hormones talking.”

Big blue eyes stared at him. 

It would be easy to say it. To say that they had three messy, adorable, terrors at home. To say that neither of them were ready for the media storm that would come their way. 

It would be easy. 

Geto gave Gojo a sad, small smile that all but tore at his heart. 

“I can’t.” 

And that was the truth. 

Geto couldn’t be the one to say ‘no’ here. God knows he’d never been able to say no to Gojo. But the idea of another little Satoru running around in their home, one that might pout like Megumi or may have his partner’s blue eyes or white hair; of Satoru pregnant and swollen with their pup; of Satoru holding a baby the way he’d probably held Megumi – all of which Geto had missed – was all too good to give up. His heart all but sang for the need to have their family grow. 

Those same blue eyes shined as Gojo responded with what was probably a slightly hormonal and watery, “Really?”

“Yeah, baby. Really.” And it felt like he was signing something irreversible, but rather than any buyer's remorse, the small trembling happiness that had been hesitantly growing within him since this call had started, truly started to bloom. A feeling duplicated on the other side of the screen, hundreds of miles away.

“Okay. Okay! Oh, Suguru, we’re gonna be like one of those American Amish families with a whole litter of pups.” This was paired with a loud laugh that was most definitely paired with a kicking of his legs if the sudden shakiness of the camera was any indication. Then, a sudden gasp, a pause as Gojo looked very seriously into the camera, “Suguru! What if it’s twins?!”

Gojo was smiling brightly. Geto, on the other hand, felt his heart drop into his stomach.

He swallowed. 

“Do… you think it could be–”

Another laugh, “Oh my god, look at you, you’d think I’d told you you were gonna be a father for the first time. Why are you acting like such a virgin , Suguru.”

A frown tugged at his mouth. Because, of course, of course, Satoru would use this as an opportunity to poke fun at him. To make him feel like he was going to have a heart attack in his late twenties. 

“Har-har-har,” Geto scoffed, deadpanned, mimicking Megumi’s expression whenever his mother tried to speak in internet slang. “You’re hilarious, Satoru. I hope our child takes after your incredible humor.”

“I’m glad you’re finally seeing reason, and better me than you . All I need is another child who doesn’t find me funny. Right now it’s just me and Mimiko against the rest of you!”

“I know, and I can’t believe I raised our daughter to have such awful taste.”

“You sure are talking a lot for someone who gets hot and horny for all this .”

“Says who?”

“Says your literal dick earlier when–”

Geto made a noise to swiftly cut Gojo off, giving a guilty look toward the door as if someone would suddenly overhear them. 

“Check and mate,” came Gojo’s smug reply.

Sometimes Geto felt like a father of four children rather than three.

“Okay, all-mighty Satoru Gojo.” The sarcasm all but dripped from his lips, “Let’s backtrack. Does your mother know?”

“Uh… not yet.” Gojo tapped his finger against his chin as he was prone to when thinking seriously, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “But I’m probably going to have to tell both her and the board of Gojo Enterprises within the next two months so they can help prepare the press release and also any paparazzi backlash – which there's bound to be.”

That was an understatement.

Anytime something major happened in Gojo’s life (like when they moved in together), or at Gojo Enterprises (like when they bought a major competitor in the American market), the paparazzi would camp out the office building and sometimes even come by the school gates for a quote. 

Thankfully it didn’t seem like they knew where Geto and Gojo lived yet but it was only a matter of time before Gojo’s money and lawyers couldn’t protect that secret anymore. These things normally only ever lasted a day or two, but that’s because nothing that juicy had happened yet. Gojo claimed that when he had Megumi and had to ‘mourn’ over his fictitious wife, the media had been a never ending shitstorm that had resulted in him needing to hire a team of bodyguards. 

Geto was not looking forward to that, nor the danger it would pose on his family, but it would just have to be something they start preparing for from now. 

However… the paparazzi probably wouldn’t be the worst of what was going to come their way.

“Well, you know what we’re going to have to do next, right?”

“What?” Gojo perked up from where he was splayed on the mattress. 

A pause as Geto took a moment to imagine the inevitable nightmare coming their way.

“We have to tell the kids.”

“Oh, fuck.” A groan as Gojo flopped back down onto the mattress. “I forgot about that.” 

***

“Nope.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

“I think it could be fun…”

Megumi and Nanako both turned to glare at Mimiko from where they were all sitting on the couch, neatly huddled together across from where Geto and Gojo were seated. 

You see, it was not like this was going better than Gojo had expected, but he also hadn’t thought it would be this bad. The look of outrage on two out of three faces hurt and he was glad at least that one of them seemed partially excited by the news.

Geto and Gojo had talked about it a few times in the quiet, private space of their bedroom. How they would tackle telling their kids and when would be a right time to tell them. The ‘when’ they’d decided, would be after Gojo officially entered his second trimester, when everything would be a bit more stable, and when it would be too difficult to hide his growing stomach anymore. 

During the first trimester, the kids hadn’t been too phased by the random cravings or waves of nausea that affected him almost daily, and Geto and Gojo had used this time as a chance for them to come to terms and settle with the reality that their family would be growing. 

Unfortunately, the choice of exactly when to tell them was slightly taken out of their hands when one day, at just past four months, Megumi had crawled into Gojo’s lap where he was seated on the couch and made a curious noise at the way Gojo smelled like milk. 

Geto had caught his eye across the room and they’d known their time was up. 

Which meant they had to figure out the ‘how.’

Apparently, sitting the three kids down one random Saturday and blurting out, “You’re going to have another sibling!” hadn’t been the right choice. 

And to be fair, Geto had crafted a whole speech on the ‘importance of responsibility’ and ‘how beautiful it was to grow as a family’ and blah blah blah. 

Though maybe that would have been better, because then he wouldn’t have disgruntled eight year olds looking at him with little snarls and furrowed brows of disgust (save for sweet Mimiko who was shyly looking on with her hands between her knees and her occasional quiet comments). 

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Gojo laughed, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have another little sister, or brother?” He hoped he could maybe rally them a bit, get them excited for this next step they were all taking, but instead he almost jumped out of his skin at the dual screeches of “No!” his questions were met with. 

Tough crowd. 

Somehow, this was going worse than when he told his mother – who had actually been incredibly excited about getting another grandchild – and the Gojo Enterprises board – who had responded with a litany of outraged shouts with some going so far as to call him a liar, asking if he took them for fools. It wasn’t until he’d taken off his scent patches and his milky-toned sweet scent started filling the room that they’d quieted down. Though that was met with numerous alphas covering their mouths and noses, gaping at him as if he were a victorian bride who just unveiled his ankles to them all. 

It had, quite frankly, been a headache of a day.

The good news was that after the dramatics and discussions of how this would affect their stock – all of which had occupied a good four hours – the board had agreed to help him manage the media and had started putting together everything needed to set up a call with the PR and Marketing teams. 

And so, Geto and Gojo decided they’d want to tell the kids a bit before the press release went out in two months, to give everyone a chance to come to terms with the baby and also to give the kids a heads up on what was to come. 

“Aren't you too old to have more kids?” Nanako interrupted his train of thought, looking at him in slight disbelief and disgust as if he were geriatric.

And – Ouch. 

They weren’t even in their thirties yet – soon, but not yet . 

“How could you let this happen?” A shout toppled any reply Gojo was about to give as Megumi jumped up to stand on the couch and pointed at Geto with a look of distrust and anger on his face as he towered over them all – or as much as a little eight-year-old could ‘tower.’ 

“Me?” Geto looked from his mate to Megumi, face a little dumbed in shock at being called upon. 

“Hey! It’s not my dad’s fault your mom is having a baby.” Nanako took this opportunity to also stand up on the couch, flaunting her two additional inches of height on Megumi. 

Oh jeez, he’d thought they’d moved past this ‘your’ vs ‘my’ parent thing, especially since Mimiko had started calling him ‘mom’ and Megumi had slipped on more than one occasion in calling Geto ‘dad.’

“Hey now, technically, it’s both our faults. You see, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much–”

“Satoru!” Came Geto’s hushed reprimand and wide eyes that asked, is now really the time for the birds and the bees talk ?

Which, okay. Touché.

“Listen, kids–” Gojo put his hands out in a placating manner, trying to calm everyone down. 

“ My mom?” Megumi turned his angry baby face to his sister, “None of this happened before your dad got here. Now we have a new house, and more people, and a baby, and–and now my mom is always busy and never home!” His little lip started to wobble.

Oh.

Gojo was way too pregnant and emotionally unstable for this. His own eyes started to water. He knew he’d been working hard the past year and traveling a lot, taking solace in knowing he had a mate to support him but also desperate to pave the way for their future, and he also knew that the past few weeks, while he may not have been traveling, had resulted in many OBGYN visits and whispered conference calls with lawyers and PR agents, and impromptu hushed talks with his alpha in the corners of kitchens and bedrooms.

But he hadn’t known Megumi felt so strongly about it. Hadn’t realized he’d felt neglected in this way. 

A hot tear ran down his cheek, one that he quickly wiped away but not before Geto noticed. 

“Alright, enough!” The alpha stood up, voice deepening with authority. Pointing to the two kids, “Sit down,” he growled and both pups flopped down with minimal whines but plenty of pouts and frowns. 

A hand came to rest on the back of Gojo’s neck and he instantly leaned into the reassuring touch. His own hand had, at some point, unconsciously drifted to rest on his partially grown abdomen, a habit he’d recently found himself partaking in whenever distressed. 

Geto stood, paused, looking over them all, his teacher aura on full display as he regarded the kids. 

“Satoru and I wanted to share this news with you because we’re a family and this impacts us all. We’re both very excited to be growing our family and to see you three become big brothers and sisters. Now, calmly, tell me why you’re worried about this baby.”

There was a quiet moment as each pup looked toward their siblings as if having a mental conversation he and Geto were not privy to. When the quiet seemed to continue with nothing save for shuffling of hands between laps, Mimiko finally murmured, “I’m not worried. I–I want a little sister.” She offered them both a small smile and Geto squeezed the nape of Gojo’s neck in small victory. 

Nanako gaffawed at her sister in horror and betrayal. 

“Well,” recovering, Nanako leaned back against the couch and crossed her arms, “We don’t have room for a baby.”

“Nanako, you know that’s not true. For one, the baby would sleep with us when they’re small, and then they could have either of the two guest rooms we have,” Geto countered, voice level and reasoning.

“The table only has five chairs.”

“We would buy a new one.”

“There’s no room in the car.”

“We… would buy a new one of those as well,” A sigh as Geto no doubt imagined the cost of buying an entirely new car. 

“Well–”

“Nanako,” Gojo cut in, “Won’t it be nice to have another little sibling to boss around?” He ignored the look Geto was currently giving him, instead watching as Nanako caught his eye, clearly interested. “These two are getting a little too old to follow you around, don’t you think?”

Looking to her left and right, Nanako narrowed her eyes as if taking in this suggestion. After a scrutinizing look toward her sister, Nanako shrugged, sniffed and looked off toward the side before saying, “I guess a little brother wouldn’t be so bad. This one’s pretty useless.” 

She was quickly rewarded with a shove from Megumi. 

Megumi, who had been rather quiet. Although his cheeks were dry and he was no longer on the verge of outburst, his entire focus was on his lap, little brows furrowed in thought. 

Gojo and Geto shared a look.

“What about you, Megumi?” Geto hedged. “Are you ready to be a big brother?”

Little shoulders shrugged up.

“He’s just worried he’ll get outnumbered by girls,” Nanako teased.

“Am not!” Megumi knocked their shoulders together. “I just–” He looked up toward his mother, before biting his lip, tangling his fingers and giving another shrug. “It’s fine.”

It hurt that Megumi was clearly holding himself back, but Gojo knew his son well enough to know not to push it, that Megumi just needed some time to process his emotions. 

That earlier outburst was uncharacteristic of him and only made Gojo worry more. 

“Well,” Gojo stood up with a clap, trying to lighten the mood, “Is this a good time to mention that I bought cake from the bakery near your school just in case bribery was needed?” 

Nanako and Mimiko were quick to take him up on his offer, following him to the kitchen and already starting to yap about potential names for the baby if it was a girl – most of which were taken from a girl group they’d been obsessed with recently. 

Megumi stayed back in the living room and by the time Gojo arrived with slices for everyone, the little urchin and Geto were immersed in a documentary about sea life. 

They spent the rest of the night curled all together on the coach, with Mimiko’s head in his lap so that he could finger-brush her hair, Nanako falling asleep against her dad’s shoulder, and Megumi seated in the corner, watching the tv, and quiet as a mouse. 

As expected, that quiet only lasted until later that night. 

Gojo had just finished brushing his teeth, crawling in bed with still-damp hair, when the door creaked open and unveiled a small head.

Making an inviting motion with his hand, Gojo watched as Megumi ran into the room, clutching his favorite stuffed dog in his hand as he scrambled onto the bed and came to rest between his parents.

When it was clear Megumi wasn’t going to be the first to speak, Gojo couldn’t help but laugh, “Yes? Can I help you?”

To no one’s surprise, his answer was a succinct “No.” 

With another laugh, Gojo wrapped his arm around his son and yanked him close, pressing his cheek to that wild mop of hair and taking a sniff of the still-baby milky pheromones that radiated off him. Despite his cold persona, Megumi didn’t hesitate to cuddle in close, though he very clearly avoided touching Gojo anywhere near his stomach so that his hips were pressed away while still resting his head and little legs against Gojo. 

It was a comical sight. 

“You know, it’s not going to bite.” He nudged his son, lowering his voice conspiratorially, only sparing a glance and smile at his mate who watched from the side, “Do you want to feel it?”

Little green eyes glanced up, “Is that…okay?”

Instead of answering, Gojo simply lifted his shirt up enough to present the partially distended and already taut skin of his stomach, before grabbing his son’s resistant hand and pressing tiny grubby fingers against warm skin. 

Megumi’s hand flexed against where it was pressed. 

“You were like that once,” Geto added, leaning over so he was resting on his side, lifting one of his own hands to rest against the base of Gojo’s stomach, and oh if his heart didn’t warm at that. 

The look Megumi shot first at Geto and then Gojo told them that he didn’t fully believe them but when Gojo nodded his confirmation, Megumi’s eyes widened in hesitant wonder.

It was surprising to remember that this quiet, sullen, sweet boy had had an outburst that pushed him near tears just a few hours ago. Gojo swallowed around the lump in his throat at the memory. 

“Megumi,” Gojo moved his hand down so he was resting it over his son’s, “You know that just because we’re having a baby doesn’t mean I’ll love you any less.”

“Yeah but…” The words were spoken to his stomach, “But that’s what you said when we moved here and now you’re always busy and–and you’re always with Nanako and Mimiko and dad and…” The words died on his tongue but Gojo couldn’t resist pulling his son into a crushing hug. 

“You’re right, Gumi.” He murmured into his baby’s hair and remembered what it felt like when Megumi had been a tiny thing in his arms and it had truly just been the two of them. 

It was a reality that felt so distant to the lives they lived now. 

“It’s not just the two of us anymore, and it won’t be because we’re a family.” He brushed back black hair until he could see a face that was far too serious for its age group, “But the good news is that now that the baby is coming, I’ll be home a lot more and, if I’m telling you the truth,” He dropped his voice into a whisper, smiling down at his son, “I also miss hanging out just the two of us. Suguru can be so boring sometimes. He doesn’t even like to watch Digimon !”

“Is that true?” Megumi asked, tone tinged in disbelief as he looked over his shoulder at Geto, who just shrugged in response. The disgusted look he leveled the alpha with should not have been as funny as it was but Gojo could see Geto fighting a laugh. 

“Exactly. So, how about I make you a promise,” He held out his pinky for Megumi to latch onto. “We’ll have some days where we hang out just the two of us, but you have to remember that Suguru, Nanako, Mimiko, and this baby, are our family too now, and you need to let them in because they all love you just as much as I do. Okay?”

A pause, “Even… Nanako?” 

“Even Nanako,” a sage nod. 

Megumi’s face pinched as he thought about it, “Okay… I–I guess they’re not too bad. And Yuuji has a brother and he likes him so it can’t be terrible .” Jeez, it sounded like the kid was being forced to swallow nails, but Gojo would take it. If anything, Megumi was someone who slowly warmed up to others, but once he did, he was loyal to them for life. 

When he caught Geto’s eye, the alpha’s expression was one of mirth as he mouthed Glowing review, that one . Gojo couldn’t help his own returning smile. 

“Good, thank you, Gumi.” One final soul-crushing hug was bestowed before Gojo let him go, but instead of rolling away in his escape as he was prone to do, Megumi snuggled in closer.

“Can I… stay?” Megumi quietly asked against the folds of Gojo’s shirt. 

“Of course, Gumi,” Gojo started to lightly scratch at his son’s back, signalling to Geto to close the lights as the breathing against him slowly evened out. 

Well, he thought, at least that was one hurdle down. 

God knew how many they had left. 

***

There were a few things that were different about this pregnancy, when compared to his first. 

For one, when he was craving something in the middle of the night, his alpha would insist on getting it for him – regardless of the inconvenience. 

There was also the occasional foot massage when he claimed they ached, the childish back rubs his pups tried to give him, and sitting at the OBGYN with his alpha – no longer the subject of judgemental stares. 

He still remembered when they received the first ultrasound of the baby, the way the five of them had huddled around the dining room table afterwards to look down at the black-and-white cooked bean that would transform into a baby. 

All in all, upon reflection, Gojo found that the biggest difference was that he wasn’t going through this pregnancy alone. 

It was surprisingly… nice. 

Which was why, when his mother cornered him about allowing her to throw them a baby shower, Gojo had readily agreed. 

Seeing his home now, maybe he shouldn’t have. 

His mother had transformed their entryway and living room into a utopia of baby pinks, blues, and yellows. Balloons littered the ceiling and staircase banister, covered in loopy cursive ‘Is it a boy?’ and ‘Is it a girl?’

Weaving through all the decorations were an army of servers, carrying small hors d'oeuvres and petit fours.

All of this was to be expected of his mother. After all, she’d been the wife of a conglomerate CEO for nearly three decades. What surprised him was not the decor, but the baby-themed games she had set up.

Specifically, this one. 

“ Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! ” The living room of well-clad adults shouted as Geto, Nanami, Shoko, and two of his colleagues each raced to finish the milky vodka-based cocktail in their respective baby bottles. 

It was certainly a sight to see, especially after the Baby Bingo, the Baby Twister (in which players wore balloons around their waists), and the Guess That Baby Food games. 

The latter of which still gave Gojo chills at the leftover taste of broccoli and bananas. 

“You got this, baby!” Gojo howled from his honorary place on the couch as Geto raced to finish his bottle before Shoko, who was seconds away from winning.

Popping the baby bottle from her lips with a smirk, Shoko drawled, “Too slow, loser.”

“Oh fuck –” Coughing, Geto wiped the milky liquid from his chin. “You’re way too good at that for a doctor, Ieiri.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, you’re too bad at it for a father of four.” Shoko lobbed back as she accepted the ‘winner’ pin Gojo’s mother bestowed upon her – it readily joined the three others she had on her cardigan. 

Gojo was thankful that the kids were over at the Itadori household so that they didn’t have to see the way their father was teary-eyed from the alcohol, and their mother was being told off for giggling by his own mother. 

“Hey, now. Isn’t today supposed to be about me? How come I’m not allowed to play any of these games?” He whined, slumped against the couch with a pout. It’s not that he actually wanted to play them – though it would be fun to win – but rather that he knew his mother’s schedule for the day had gifts after games and cake after gifts. 

And boy, did he want that cake. 

He’d tried to sneak a bite earlier, only to have his mother slap his hand away and reprimand his lack of patience. 

Which, to be fair, considering he was about to be a mother of four , he liked to think his patience far outweighed hers. 

That argument hadn’t gone over well. 

“Satoru, you know that someone in your… delicate position shouldn’t be pushing themselves.” Nanami said, coming around the couch to plop a gift into the seated omega’s lap. 

“Oh, Kento you spoil me,” Gojo obnoxiously shook the gift next to his ear, but whatever it was was too soft to make any noise. Probably clothing. Boring. 

The rest of the room followed his mother’s cue and started creating a semi-circle facing the couch, taking a seat where they could while enjoying a fresh glass of champagne or snack. In front of him, the pile of gifts grew. 

It was a giddy sensation.

Geto stood just next to where he was seated, hand carding through white hair before coming to rest on the nape of his neck. 

They shared a smile.

And maybe not for the first time today, Gojo thought how nice this was. 

Of course, that thought didn’t last long, because it took not even 15 minutes before everyone started indulging in their favorite game: Tease Satoru . 

It started with a gift. 

“What is it?” Geto flipped the piece of fabric with its dangling straps up, down, and to the side, trying to figure out how a baby could use this spider-like thing. 

“Maybe some torture device?”

“Was that a serious answer, Satoru?” Geto tossed the odd piece of fabric at the other man, who shrugged as he started enacting in his own ritual in twisting the patterned gift. 

“You idiots,” Shoko drawled, “It’s a baby sling.” 

“Ah, that’s quite a thoughtful gift, Ieiri.” Nanami nodded.

“Don’t act so surprised.” She scoffed and quickly waved off any attempt at an apology from Nanami. 

Gojo still had no idea what the fuck this fabric was. Which must have shown on his face because Nanami took pity on him and grabbed it, looping it over Gojo’s head and maneuvering it around his body. Once done, he stepped away to admire his work with a nod. 

“It’s to carry the baby as you walk around. It also keeps them close to your chest and the pheromones there which I’ve read is good for a newborn’s health.”

“Oh,” Gojo looked down at the soft sling draping from his body, imagining a small pup in there and looking back up at him from the swath of fabric. With Megumi, he’d found himself often sitting down, too nervous to walk around with such a small creature in his arms. He felt a little stupid for not knowing about baby slings sooner, but this just marked another difference between his first pregnancy and this one. 

For once, he was allowing himself to properly indulge in being a pregnant omega – no secrets, no shame, just him and his baby. 

He felt his chest tighten at the thought.

“Yeah, figured with how twitchy you are, something that would allow you to walk around with the baby would be best.”

“I’m not twitchy ,” Gojo suddenly became aware of his leg and tried to subtly halt its bouncing movements. 

“Oh yeah, Satoru is always complaining about how tired he is of being treated like an invalid, insisting that walking is good for the baby. Of course, walking around the living room at 2am is less than ideal.” Geto added with a chuckle.  

A gasp and look of horror up at his alpha, who so readily betrayed him. “Et tu, Brute? Et tu?”

“He was always like this,” Nanami added with a sigh, ignoring Gojo’s squeak of protest, “I’d almost forgotten how restless Satoru was when pregnant. I simply thought it was from being sequestered to his apartment. Clearly, that is not the case.” 

“I’m not that bad!”

“You belittled the super to such a severe degree the man started crying because he wouldn’t let you have access to the roof.”

“We were in the penthouse! That roof was basically ours!”

“Wow,” Geto and Shoko drawled out in unison, looking at one another in that annoying way of theirs that meant they were teaming up against Gojo. “You sound really spoiled.”

Another squawk.

“I almost forgot how long you two have known each other,” Haibara inserted with a smile, gesturing to Nanami and Gojo, easily breaking up the fight that was brewing. “I mean, obviously we all met at the same time but like, you two were actually friends that whole time.” He tapered off with an awkward laugh, maybe realizing he’d put his foot in his mouth with the way those who knew of their history all pointedly looked away from where Geto and Gojo stood (and sat) near each other. 

Ah yes. The beauty of being known. She really was a bitch. 

Because while not every guest here was privy to the knowledge that Geto and Gojo had very pointedly not been friends for a few years, the ones that did know, were all too familiar with the drama. 

Nanami coughed, breaking the silence, “‘ Friends’ is putting it generously.”

“Hey now, that’s not what you said on Megumi’s 3rd birthday.”

“And I still regret how drunk I allowed you to get me at a toddler’s birthday party.”

“Ooo,” Shoko purred from where she’d sat down on the couch’s arm, "Embarrassing stories about Kento and Satoru? Do tell.”

“Well, there was the one time Kento ate cake with his hands and made such a mess he took his shirt off and tried to ask me for an iron,” Satoru howled.

“This was very much at the same party. And if I remember correctly, it ended with you crying about Megumi getting too old and demanding he stop growing,” Nanami deadpanned.

“So then… you were both drunk at a kid’s birthday party?” One of the other guests asked, voice clearly dripping in disapproval. 

Gojo turned to him with a bored expression, “It was after the party and my mother was watching my son, so yeah, we drank.” He then turned to Geto and while still in the vicinity of the others, pointed a thumb at the man and mouthed Buzzkill. 

Geto, in turn, tried to muffle his laughter behind his hand, quickly working to smooth his expression. “So then, I’m sure you’ve seen Satoru in all his pregnancy glory, with the odd cravings–”

“Peanut butter pork nachos aren’t that weird!”

Someone made a gagging noise. 

“–and the constant insistence that anything the doctor says is just a ‘loose guideline.’” Geto said this all as if they were endearing traits. It made Gojo’s heart flutter pathetically. 

Well, it could have also been heart burn, but that was neither here nor there. 

Nanami hummed in thought. “Honestly, at the time, Satoru was very driven by his independence and it took quite some time for him to rely and open up and even then I don’t believe it was done so completely.” 

“So then, what’s it like going through this again, Satoru? Any tips for a first timer?” Haibara asked with a wide smile from where he was tucked into Nanami’s side, hand pressed to his barely-there bulge. 

The two had been together close to three years, though they only told everyone else about a year ago – as one can imagine, it had led to a few disgruntled comments and arguments about ‘trust.’ It had also come to a surprise that at this same unveiling, they’d discovered Haibara was an omega as well, apparently presenting late. Haibara, at the time, had made a joke that it had been due to Nanami’s pheromones. Nanami had not found the comment as entertaining. 

It was at this party Gojo had fully realized how withdrawn he’d been from everyone, save for Nanami and, now, Geto. 

But that would change – was already changing. 

Gojo pressed a hand against his own distended stomach, groaning under his breath as a tiny foot pressed against some totally-not-important internal organ. 

“Hmm,” Satoru made a big show of thinking about Haibara’s question when in all honesty he was drawing a blank. 

His first pregnancy was so irregular in nature that if you asked him, one of the biggest tips for a happy pregnancy was to ensure you’re surrounded by your alpha’s pheromones, especially if you’d like to avoid intense bouts of nausea. 

It hadn’t been until way into his pregnancy that Nanami’s pheromones had been of any use, and still, they didn’t even compare to the relief he got when near Geto now. 

Then, of course, there were the achy feet, the exhaustion, the need to be near his pups at all times, the nesting, and the–

Well. That one at least should be a fun little ‘tip’ to share.

“Satoru! That is not polite conversation.” His mother reprimanded as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but he brushed her off with a laugh.

“Please,” he drawled, “We’re all adults here. And anyway, he should know what he’s in for.”

Haibara’s face had gone an uncharacteristically bright shade of pink as Nanami simply pinched the bridge of his nose. At least Geto and Shoko found him funny, though Geto was trying to hide his own flustered laughter behind a fist. 

“I–is that actually something that happens?” Haibara asked, eyes wide. 

“Oh yeah,” Gojo nodded back with his most ‘serious’ expression, “It gets bad . The horniness is so severe it feels like being in heat sometimes. It’s like you want to defy biology and get pregnant again .”

“Oh my god, Satoru.” Geto groaned.

“I’ve never been so happy to own a cell phone.” Shoko drawled, camera already out and filming.

“But honestly,” Gojo leaned forward, dropping his voice in a whisper, “it’s you I’m worried about.”

“Me?” Haibara whispered back. And god, maybe Gojo was a bit of a dick for how much he was currently enjoying this: the shocked expression on Haibara, the frustrated look on his mother, the shocked and intrigued looks on his other guests. 

“Satoru,” Nanami warned, voice low. 

“Yeah, you,” Gojo nodded sagely, ignoring the blond alpha. “I mean, after all, you have to watch out for Kento – he has a crazy pregnancy kink.” 

“Satoru,” Nanami said again, this time under his breath and with a sigh – defeated. Meanwhile Haibara was looking between Gojo and Nanami, brown eyes bouncing back and forth.

A hand came down on Gojo’s shoulder, squeezed. Tugged. 

Gojo was forced to turn his teasing smile up toward his alpha, expecting to see creased cheeks and a comment about how Nanami was always so fun – so easy – to tease. Instead he was met with a frown and furrowed brows. 

“What do you mean?”

It was as if a record audibly scratched.

“Uh…” Gojo’s mouth opened and shut. His eyes drifted to the side to take in the rest of the room. 

Well.

“Oh fuck.” And then again as if once wasn’t enough, Shoko laughed at the realization. “Oh fuck .” 

Geto ignored her, his grip on Gojo’s shoulder squeezing, forcing the omega to look back at his alpha. “What do you mean , Satoru?”

He was starting to wish he listened to his mother more. 

“W–well like. You see. Ha. When we were together, well not together , but when Nanami was living with me, he may have – we may have –” At the look of everyone he abruptly stopped with a weak, “So yeah. But like, that's in the past now– way in the past. Oooo what is this?” Gojo leaned forward to grab a box from the floor, a beautifully wrapped silver box with a delicate ribbon, and obnoxiously shook it. 

The bad news? It sounded delicate.

The good news? He felt good that he had gotten every one off his trail and they could probably just move on from this nice and easy. 

“So, you two… slept together?” Geto’s tone sounded numb. The alpha’s normally calm and peppery scent flared in a way that made the hair on Gojo’s arm stand up. 

He knew that tone.

Nanami let out a resigned sigh, “Yeah–”

The next sound was that of skin hitting skin, paired with two twinned groans. 

So yeah, that good news from before? Turned out to be bad news in disguise. 

“Ah fuck,” Geto hissed, shaking out his red hand from where it had collided with Nanami’s now equally red cheek. The two alphas stood slightly apart, each calmly rubbing at their injured body part while Gojo tried to accommodate for the fact that he hadn’t even heard Geto move – one second he’d been tense and next to him, and the next he’d been colliding with the blond alpha. 

“Fuck,” Geto said again when the hand Nanami used to wipe his mouth came away with a small trace of blood. 

And maybe Gojo should have seen this coming, but that would require actually thinking – something Gojo was realizing he may actually not be so excellent at. 

Because if he had been thinking, if his brain had even paused for a second, he would have remembered the tense, on edge, aggravation Geto had been suppressing the last two months. Now at 6 months pregnant, Geto’s alpha-need to protect and hoard was only getting worse. 

Whether it be an alpha bumping into them at the supermarket, or even a beta who looked Gojo’s way a little too long, Geto was quick to snap, snarl, and bodily move them aside from his omega. 

Maybe the problem was that Gojo had been enjoying the attention. It was another difference between his first and his second pregnancy – this time, there was someone to protect him. 

And boy did the inner omega in him love that. 

The other problem was that Geto very pointedly did not love that. 

He would always spiral afterwards, muttering about how he hated this aggressive side of himself, that he hated his own lack of control. 

Sometimes it sent the alpha into a dark place that only time could take him out of.

Geto’s biggest virtue was regret. 

“Kento, I’m sorry. I–fuck.” The alpha clutched his hand in horror. 

Haibara’s own scent had turned sour with distress as he fluttered around his alpha asking if he was okay and if he needed some ice. Nanami offered him a small smile when the omega brought over a handful of napkins. After cleaning up the small traces of blood from his mouth, Nanami straightened and ran a hand through his hair, “No, it’s alright, Suguru.” The alpha began with a sigh, “It’s not like Satoru was single at the time and an adult in his own right…” The deadpan drawl in which he said it clearly indicated what he thought of the situation. The wince Geto gave indicated he understood loud and clear. 

“Have I mentioned how glad I am to own a cell phone?” Shoko cackled from the side. “Fuck, that was beautiful.” A look to the side revealed a Shoko hunched over her phone as the video she’d taken played over and over again, a looping sound of fist hitting flesh in the background. 

Well… at least his mother could retain her “unforgettable parties” award. 

Maybe now was a good time to stand up. 

When everyone turned to look at him, Gojo had to admit to himself that he seemed to be full of only dumb ideas today. 

He clapped his hands to buy time. 

“As they say, the past is in the past. And it was really only one–okay, two–times but that was seven years ago and really like I said, pregnancy horniness is almost as bad as a heat. So, no need to get worked up, Yu and Kento are happily together, Suguru and I are happily together. Yes? Yes.”

He sat down as if all was said and done, only pausing to reach a hand out for his alpha, trying not to let the nerves of being rejected show in the shakiness of his awaiting fingers. 

A breath of relief when warm skin clasped around his as Geto came to sit down flush next to him. 

An arm came to wrap around his waist, fingers coming to rest under his stomach in a loose display of support – and perhaps even possession.

It was bad that Gojo liked it so much, right? 

Gojo’s mother clapped from behind the couch, where she’d moved as if to distance herself from the train wreck, and put on her dazzling hostess smile, “Shall we reconvene in the dining room for cake, then?”

And no matter what Gojo said about his mother, the knowing look she shot him as she hustled everyone over into the next room, made his heart squeeze with affection. 

They’d come a long way. 

A nose nudged at his jaw and up to his ear. A low, deep purr sent a chill down his spine, “Satoru.” He hummed, leaning back into the couch and deeper into the arm around him. “A heads up would have been nice.”

“Ah, well,” His eyes opened from where they’d fallen closed, and immediately met deep violet irises. “It was such a long time ago.”

Geto raised his brows and clenched his jaw at that response, an expression reserved specifically for when Gojo was being purposefully obtuse. It was so endearing that Gojo couldn’t help but lift his hand and press it to his mate’s cheek, fingers caressing back baby hairs. 

“Suguru,” Their eyes met, a thumb traced over tense lips, “Honestly. It was a weird time in my life and it kind of just… happened. But Kento and I agreed almost right after that we’d be better off as friends. It happened, and I won’t lie to you about that and if you want to know more, I’ll tell you, but I’m being honest when I say I barely think about it.” A pause as they looked at each other, as Gojo’s eyes bounced between his alpha’s, trying to read his mind. 

“Suguru,” Gojo said again. He grabbed his alpha’s hand and pressed it to his stomach, right on the side where their pup seemed to believe his own personal trampoline was located. “I mean it when I say it’s just us and our pups now.” The alpha in question looked down at his hand, pressed against the white fabric of Gojo’s shirt, before looking up with a soft smile.

“I believe you, Satoru. I always believe you. You don’t have to explain, it’s your story.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of the omega’s lips, hand flexing at the same time in a way that made Gojo’s stomach flip. 

Another peck to Gojo’s cheek and then jaw and then the delicate skin of his throat before Geto fell forward onto the omega’s shoulder with a groan. Muscular arms tightening to pull their bodies close, and it shouldn’t be as attractive as it was. 

“Fuck,” a kiss pressed to his shoulder, “I’m such a dick. Kento is going to hate me–as is his right.”

“He is not. ”

“Is too.”

“Nah, I’ve definitely done worse and he’s forgiven me.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Geto lifted his head with a smile, waiting to hear Gojo’s answer. 

Gojo just shoved his mate’s head back on his shoulder. “You can just call it an IOU.”

A muffled laugh was pressed to the fabric of his shirt, “I can’t imagine Kento using an IOU to punch me.”

“Well…” He had a point. “He could always lend it to me.”

“Oh yeah? And what would you use it for?” Before Gojo could answer that he was a man of mystery and it was always good to have an ace up his sleeve, the breath he took to speak dissolved into giggles as Geto started to nose up his throat and plant noisy, ticklish kisses across his throat. “You want to punch me?” The alpha asked. 

“Sugu–stop–Suguru,” His voice pitched with laughter as sharp canines scratched across his jaw, pushing him further and further into the couch. 

“Why don’t you punch me, hmm? Use your IOU now.” Careful of his stomach, the alpha hovered above Gojo, slowing his assault only to place one hand under Gojo’s back before slipping the other under his head, gripping white hair softly. Lips grazed over cheeks and carefully over Gojo’s already parted mouth.

And then they fell into one another. 

Gojo brought his arms up to dig fingers into lusciously soft black hair. Eyes already closed and nose digging into the cheek of his alpha, their lips parted and came together again and again in slow sweeping movements. Tongues came out to taste in a way that was so achingly familiar it made Gojo squirm against the tight grip of his partner. 

“You’re both disgusting. I preferred it when everyone was single.” Came a drawling voice above them and they broke apart, warm breath puffing against cheeks, to look up at where Shoko was resting cross-armed on the back of the couch. “Aren’t you too old to be acting like this?”

“You know, you’re actually the second person to say that to me.”

“You should listen then, they clearly know a thing or two.” 

Gojo didn’t know how to tell Shoko that she shared an opinion with a seven year old. 

“Anyway, Mrs. Gojo sent me here to grab you two so she can give a toast. Clean yourselves up.” And with that she left, leaving the two of them still tangled and staring after her.

 “Can we ditch this place?” Gojo finally asked. 

“Ditch our own house during our baby shower?”

“Yeah, we could say we needed to get the kids from Yuuji’s,” He tucked a loose tendril of black hair from where it had fallen out of its bun, “or that there was an emergency, or that I wasn’t feeling well.” 

He bit his lip, imagining it was just as plush and shiny as Geto’s before surging up to kiss his alpha again. “Or maybe…” His voice was husky, lips dragging up and down to nip at the sensitive skin below his mate’s ear, something that was quickly rewarded with a hushed groan. “Maybe…we could say you wanted to show me what a real pregnancy kink looked like.” 

Geto immediately pulled back and shoved Gojo’s face away so that the omega fell back into the couch with a laugh. 

“What? Too soon?”

***

There were pros and cons to being pregnant, and while, arguably, there were more cons than pros, those pros were pretty nice. 

People were nice to him, always ready to give up their seats. 

His mate insisted on cooking and being the one to chase the kids around when it was time to go to bed. 

He could eat whatever he wanted without judgement. 

He could also watch a movie and take a nap in the middle of the day now that he’d started his maternity leave. And since all the kids were of an age to be participating in afterschool sports, he normally had the house entirely to himself until close to six o‘clock. 

Which meant some days were quiet and boring, and others…

Others offered pleasant surprises. 

“Oh fuck ,” Gojo groaned, head falling back against the heated skin of his alpha’s shoulder. 

Positioned on his side – which seemed to be the only position his 7-month pregnant body could handle – Gojo turned his face into the pillow, hands scrambling to grip at silky black hair and white crumpled sheets as Geto picked up his rhythm and pumped his hips.

“God, how are you so fucking wet, baby?” Geto moaned in his ear, sending shivers through his limbs and moans out of his lips. 

He was probably salivating all over their bed but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not with the way Gojo’s legs were spread completely open by Geto’s bruising grip on his thighs, ensuring that each sloppy and sticky thrust was heard throughout the empty house. 

Thankfully, Gojo was no longer the ravenous type of horny he’d been during his second trimester, and although he couldn’t move around much more than this, he still felt starved for his alpha’s touch. 

He didn’t know if it was from how tender and sensitive his whole body was, or if it was the scent of musky sweat and peppery pheromones Geto filled the room with each time they did this, but Gojo wanted . 

He needed . 

His entire body felt as if it was on fire.

Their lips met in sloppy, ravenous movements. Calloused fingers pinched and massaged tender nipples, and Gojo almost cried into his mate’s mouth as the touch alternated between cupping his growing chest and roughly tweaking at the tips. 

It felt like utter torture. 

“There you go, sweetheart. You’re taking me so well. So pretty.” And if Geto’s deep rumbling voice wasn’t enough to almost make him come on the spot, his words nearly were. Gojo’s hips unconsciously moved against Geto’s, needing more friction. “ Fuck, baby , I can’t even see your cock with how full you are with our pup.”

The hand holding his thigh open moved so that his tense leg now dangled at the crease of Geto’s elbow, the alpha’s hand now free to disappear behind the curtain of his stomach. 

Lips captured the omega’s once again in a demanding, distracting kiss. 

At the first squeeze of his cock, Gojo’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head. 

“Suguru, j–just, ah– more . More. More. ” He whined as the alpha’s wrist twisted in quick, aggressive movements. 

And fuck. He was so fucking close. 

His body felt like a tight coil, half-mad with want. 

He could do nothing but writhe and tug at his alpha’s hair, holding on to a lifeline as they continued to move against each other. 

A sudden desire to see, to know what he looked like came over him. Lifting his shoulders – which Geto took as an invite to nose and kiss and nibble at cheeks and throat – Gojo looked down. 

It was like looking at a pink-flushed beached whale. 

His chest was completely rose-hued, nipples almost red and glistening from where Geto had sucked and bitten them earlier ( “Can’t wait for these to be filled with milk and leaking, Satoru. You won’t be able to get me off them, then.” ). 

Past his breasts was the stretched pale skin of his stomach, and then: nothing. 

Looking down, Gojo realized he really couldn’t see anything past his stomach.

Cock included. 

It was like being blindfolded, forced to feel the calloused grip Geto had on him. The thumb that pressed into the head. The twist of his wrist as he neared the top each time. Gojo could almost imagine the rough stretch of his hole just underneath. 

Fuck. 

He felt delirious with want. “Bite me, bite me,” Gojo chanted as Geto tongued and sucked at the skin where his mating mark was. 

“You know I can’t, sweetheart,” Geto’s own movements started to stagger, “The hormone flux wouldn’t be good for the– fuck– baby.”

An arm came around Gojo’s collarbones to pull their bodies flush, forearm pressed to his throat, and it was like that – half-choking, his alpha sucking on his mating bite while being pressed all the way inside him – that Gojo came, body taunt and a ragged moan escaping him. 

“ Satoru– ” Geto groaned into the nape of Gojo’s neck as he quickly followed him over, cock growing and knotting despite the fact that Gojo was very much well and truly pregnant. 

At least it would mean less clean up for now. 

The two slowly untangled, Gojo’s hips aching from the splayed position they had been held in, before Geto adjusted their position to something more comfortable so that Gojo was resting on his side and on the alpha’s bicep. Geto’s other arm was wrapped under Gojo’s pregnant stomach – their favorite position lately. 

The sound of their breathing was hard and felt exaggerated in the now quiet room. 

Despite having recently woken up from a nap, Gojo felt the pull of sleep tugging on his subconscious. Lulled by his mate’s pheromones and the way his stomach was still, for once – not a kick in sight. 

His eyes closed for what seemed like a singular blink. 

When they opened, his body felt cold and just on the wrong side of uncomfortable. 

Unconsciously, Gojo’s gaze drifted to the bedside table, something he regretted almost immediately. 

“Start thinking unsexy thoughts,” he said with a shake of his still-tender (and still very full) ass, “We have to get the kids soon.”

A groan was muffled into the back of his head that felt very much reciprocated. But considering they only had 15 minutes to untangle, shower, and get to the kids’ school, now was not the time to play hooky. 

“How can I do that when you’re in my arms,” Geto flashed a sleepy yet teasing grin and Gojo could only huff in response. 

“I was only half joking when I said you had a kink, but the further along I get, the less it’s starting to seem like a joke.” He let out a hiss as a softening cock slipped out of his tender hole, followed by dribbles of something wet . 

“Hey! Don’t do that!” He slapped at where Geto’s hand had quickly ‘come to the rescue,’ gathering the leaking cum only to stuff it back into Gojo. 

“What?” The alpha responded with a laugh, darting forward to kiss Gojo’s shoulder before getting up and offering a hand, “You always complain about the mess.”

“Yeah well, I also complain about my ass hurting but that never stops you!”

A hand snaked around his hip and pulled him up against a firm, warm body. Lips kissed his temple before coming down to his ear to purr, “Well, you could always be the one to give it to me. I’d gladly take a hurt ass for you.”

There was a pause as Gojo felt a stir of something heat in his stomach once again. 

He then remembered they were pressed for time. 

“Y–you–why would you– what? ” Gojo tried to ignore the flush that crawled up his cheek and, at the sight of Geto’s teasing smile, just stomped his foot with a growl before hobbling over to the shower. 

Twenty minutes later they were damp, dressed, and in their car. 

Gojo’s cheeks were still pink, and he forced himself to look out the window to keep up the facade that he was upset. 

It’s not that they’d never done that before. 

But it also wasn’t a regular occurrence. 

If anything, it was rare. But Geto knew it was one of the few things that flustered Gojo to the point of speechlessness. 

So of course he was an asshole who brought it up whenever he wanted to throw Gojo off. 

But was it his fault that the first and last time Gojo had had his dick in his mate, between the insane tight pressure and the constant comments of Fuck, you call that a cock, Satoru? Baby omega cock’s barely brushing my prostate. Are you sure you don’t want me to take charge? And come on baby, just like that , Gojo had been rutting so sloppily that he’d come within a few minutes. 

It was embarrassing to say the least, and still haunted him occasionally. 

He shifted in his seat, squeezing his legs at the thought. Geto responded by placing his hand on Gojo’s thigh, prying his legs apart with a squeeze.

Which only made matters worse . 

“Do you remember the day we conceived the baby?” Geto asked the road in front of him, only pausing to shoot Gojo a look . 

“Are you trying to fuck me in the car? Because we don’t have time for that?” Gojo drawled, ignoring the tingling that radiated from where a large, vein-decorated hand squeezed his thigh. 

But instead of teasing him back, or even trying to convince him that they could afford a five minute break for round two, Geto just threw his head back and laughed in that whole-body way of his. 

Gojo’s heart exhaled in relief and in adoration. 

His already semi-hard cock, not so much. 

But that was neither here nor there. 

“No! I’m actually asking because I don’t know,” Geto said through breathless laughter. 

“Oh.” Gojo could feel his eyebrows raise in surprise because, actually, he’d never thought about it. 

He wasn’t sure he actually knew. 

And that wasn’t in a ‘oh my god, we fuck like rabbits every damn day and I can’t keep track’ kind of way. Because, come on, they were parents of three young kids. The amount of times they’d been getting hot and heavy only for a small head to pop into their doorway announcing they’d had a nightmare was one time too many. 

But also…

They’d been fucking like rabbits during this time frame in particular. 

But! To be fair, they had just moved in together, officially, in the house they live in now, and were freshly mated. 

Call it the honeymoon phase if you will.

From the moment they’d gotten mated – which had been the weekend Geto’s mother had watched the kids because Gojo was going into heat and the two of them took it as the opportunity it was to finally seal their relationship – it had been like a switch flipped. 

It got so bad that when they had been finalizing the purchase for their home, Gojo had made the both of them stand in the shower in various angles to ensure it could situate both of their tall frames if needed. 

And boy, was it needed. 

So, yes, back to the original question. 

“Umm,” Gojo turned his gaze out the window in thought, fiddling with the seatbelt that pressed a little too much into his stomach, before bringing his hand up to count as he rattled off the times he remembered thinking to himself ‘ oh fuck, that might stick. ’ “It could have been when the kids were sleeping over at Yuuji’s and we stained the couch. Or in the car at the gas station. The restaurant bathroom. That one morning with the toy. Then the video camera–”

“Satoru,” Came an exasperated voice next to him which just made Gojo laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Getting carried away. If I was going to bet my money on it, I’d probably say it was your last rut.” 

Memories of hot hands pressing a white head of hair into pillows, suffocating thrusts down throats, and a hole so stretched out and filled it was a steady stream all 48 or so hours. 

“Yeah,” Geto coughed, “That’d do it.”

“Though, I still think it could have been that time with the–” Anything Gojo was about to say dissolved in a fit of laughter as Geto stretched over and shoved his face lightly. Grasping at the fingers, Gojo kissed a few before letting go. 

It was still crazy to think about how different his life had been just two years ago. He’d been single, publicly thought of as an alpha or beta, the parent of an adorable kid that never questioned why he had to call Gojo ‘dad’ when in front of others. 

And above all, he just hadn’t been happy .

Not that he’d known that. He’d thought himself satisfied, grateful, and never thought to question it when there was a smile already plastered to his cheeks. 

Now though, now he knew what it actually meant to be happy. To start each day with a burning in his chest from the pure adoration he felt for his family, for his life . 

To be able to cut down on the sheer amount of suppressants he’d been on, to stop wearing scent patches constantly to the point of getting skin-rashes, to be able to unapologetically and without thought express himself. No more second guessing if something was ‘too omega.’

He was truly and completely happy with his life.

That’s not to say that there weren't downsides. 

There most definitely were.

It had been about a month since he’d done the press release – pregnant galore and all – and unveiled his true secondary gender to everyone. 

As one would expect, there were mixed results and opinions. 

On the one hand, he’d been invited to a few talk shows and podcasts to speak about being an omega in a role of power and to discuss the gender dynamics he’d been privy to seeing as a pseudo-beta. A publishing agent had already reached out to discuss a book deal. People called him ‘brave’ and ‘an inspiration’ and ‘a result of a fucked archaeic gender system.’

Others… were not so nice. 

Yeah, he meant the incels and quote unquote “alpha males.”

They took great joy in calling him a ‘bitch,’ a ‘ power hungry bitch,’ someone who ‘slept their way to the top,’’ and often commented that they wouldn’t be surprised if his pregnant state was simply due to his ‘omega wiles.’

Yada yada yada. 

Sadly, it wouldn’t be incorrect to say the negative opinions were a pretty sizable amount. 

Either way, he was firmly in the public eye. Hence, why he started his maternity leave early at 7 months. 

“Surprise or no, however it happened ,” Geto tossed him a side-eyed look and the small smile that was reserved exclusively for reassuring Gojo, before turning the car onto the road that led to the kids’ school, “I’d say it was a very wanted accident.”

“Yeah,” Came the whispered, happy response. Careful hands ran up and around the sides of his stomach, petting as if the baby were already here. And in a way, with the firm kick planted into his side, it almost felt like that was the case. For Gojo, it was easy to imagine that in his arms he held a fussy little creature with a gummy smile. 

“You know,” he added in hushed reverence, “I hope they look like you.”

A hand came to capture one of his own and Gojo looked up to find his alpha, his mate, his Suguru smiling at him. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.”

At that moment, they basked entirely in each other’s presence. 

Retrospectively, it was so cheesy that had it been a Korean drama, soft romantic music would be playing as the credits started to play over their glowing faces, queuing a happy ever after. 

But, considering this wasn’t fiction, the moment was quickly broken by Geto laying on the horn as he almost ran over a group of people. 

More specifically, a group of reporters who all thumped and flocked to the car with cameras and mics. 

Ah yes. 

So, this. 

This had also been part of their new reality. 

Whether it be at his work (which he no longer went to), Gojo’s old apartment (which was still his registered address), or their kids’ school, for the past two months, it’d been paparazzi galore. 

Thankfully, they were relatively harmless; just extremely annoying.

“Get out of the way,” Geto laid on the horn again as he tried to weave through the bodies and toward the front gate of the school. “Fucking pests,” He murmured under his voice, jaw clenched.

Geto, on the other hand, had a different opinion as to their harmlessness. 

Not being raised in the spotlight, he couldn’t understand why Gojo was nothing more than lightly annoyed by the paparazzi – this was the argument they’d had a few times over. Gojo’s stance was that there was nothing he could do, so may as well ride it out and play the limelight out smartly. 

Geto’s stance was not that relaxed. 

Hands slapped on the hood of their car repeatedly, while others knocked on their windows. Muffled questions were thrown their way but Gojo had gotten fairly good at ignoring them, already pulling his phone out to stare blankly at his email and avoid any unnecessary eye contact. 

He used the grip he still had on his mate’s hand to give a firm reassuring squeeze. 

With how close they were getting to the due date, it definitely wasn’t helping the protective instincts Geto felt. Gojo wanted to be able to comfort him in some way, to let him know that it would be fine and that the media would lose interest in them soon. 

That it wasn’t worth sacrificing their sanity for. 

Of course, that’s when a loud thud drew their attention to the hood of the car where a large brunette man had thrown himself forward to get near Gojo – windshield withstanding. 

“Mr. Gojo,” Came the muffled voice, “What do you say to the rumors that your son’s birth father is a gambling addict and alcoholic?”

What did he think–?

About–?

What–

The cogs in his brain stilled. 

Why were they bringing Megumi into this?

A feeling of panic gripped his chest before he could even process his thoughts. It’s not that he’d never thought it a possibility, and it’s not that people on the internet didn’t say nasty things. But normally those things were directed toward him. About him. Things he could write off, explain away, have his PR team twirl into an elaborate story. 

These things weren’t often about his eight-year-old son. 

And they weren’t often true . 

A blink brought with it the image of hulking muscle, greasy black hair, and a scarred lip. 

“Satoru?” He just barely turned his gaze toward Geto and he must have looked just as panicked as he felt – wide eyed, frown transforming his expression – because as soon as Geto met his eyes, a look of determination settled into the slope of his brow. 

The car quickly shifted into reverse before Geto was peeling out of the gated entry way, leaving behind the shifting form of bloodthirsty paparazzi. 

Gojo looked back at the shrinking forms before asking, “Where are we going?”

For a moment there was no reply, and Gojo worried Geto was spiraling in that way of his when he couldn't get out of his negative mindset. But before the silence had lulled for too long, Geto turned a new corner, unveiling a side of the school Gojo was entirely unfamiliar with. When they stopped, he turned to shoot his mate a conspiratorial smile, “There’s a faculty entrance in the back, used mainly for deliveries. It’s not as well used, so it’ll probably be safe.”

Why was his chest warming at such a small act of consideration?

His standards must really be in the gutter. 

But fuck if he cared, he loved this man so much. 

Loved the way he reached over to rest his hand on Gojo’s thigh.

The way he leaned over to kiss Gojo’s temple as they waited for the back gate to open. 

The way he jumped out of the car once they’d parked to come open the door for him. 

Something in Gojo wanted to lie face down in his bed and just kick his feet and squeal.

Instead, he took Geto’s hand and purred in his own teasing manner, “What a gentleman.”

The blushing “Shut up,” he received in response was so worth it. 

Since it was past 6pm, the school was fairly quiet, especially back here where only a giant garage lay. In the distance, the sound of kids running and screaming during the afterschool activities could be heard. Their own pups no doubt in the fray. 

Meaning, they had time.

So they walked in slow, unhurried steps. Kicking one foot in front of the other. Or rather, Geto walked slowly, and Gojo hobbled. The omega not hesitating to take the offered hand, nor to lean into the arm that came around his back and rested on his waist. 

“You know,” Geto started, “There’s one thing I probably regret over all else.”

“Tell me,” Gojo demanded softly. 

And against his cheek bone, because now standing the way they were their height difference was all the more obvious, he murmured, “Seeing you like this. You absolutely glow , Satoru.”

Maybe it was the nip to his earlobe, or the scent of peppery pheromones, but Gojo flushed and tried to brush it off with a coughed, “Knew you had a kink, freak.”

Like always, Geto found Gojo’s flustered state very entertaining. 

“I mean it, baby. You’re gorgeous. How it’s possible for you to be so pretty goes against nature.” Another nip of his ear before lips trailed across his cheek. 

Somehow, they were still walking. 

How? 

The thought twirled half-heartedly through Gojo’s mind. 

In a trance, he was being led. 

“You know there are children around,” he whispered. Or maybe the words never left his mouth past the shaky breath of air. 

“How lucky am I,” Geto continued (so maybe Gojo really hadn’t said anything), “To have such a pretty boy all to myself.” The hand on his hip squeezed. He could feel the press of a smile to his jaw. 

And this really was just unfair.

Cruel and unusual punishment. 

At this rate, he was going to be arrested for public indecency–

“Gojo Satoru! A minute please!” Any tension that had seeped from their bodies, lulled by casual flirtation, returned two-fold as both men tensed, looking toward where a huffing, brunette man stood ahead of them, blocking their pathway to the front of the school. 

It was the same man who’d thrown himself full-bodied onto the windshield.

Great.

They had been walking on the slim gravelled path that looped around the side of the building and were now stopped near the corner where they were due to pick up their kids. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Gojo said – which felt like he was stating the obvious.

“I just need a moment of your time, Mr. Gojo. I’ve been trying to go through your PA but no one ever responded to my calls.”

No surprises there, he mentally huffed. Gojo had firm rules about not talking to anyone unless it was an edited statement crafted by his team, and his whole team knew that. 

But instead of saying this, he scratched the back of his head and yawned, “Listen, your obsession with me is nice and all, but seriously, don’t you think this is kind of pathetic?”

“Pathetic?” The man all but yelled, taking a step forward. “What is pathetic is that my editor threatened to fire me if I didn’t bring him a good story.”

“Doesn’t that reflect on you as a bad journalist though? Why is that my problem?”

Another two steps forward and Geto growled, “Take another step and see what happens.”

The man looked startled, warily eyeing the bulking alpha before turning his attention back toward his point of interest. “Listen, I’m a nice guy and I already came all this way, why don’t you just give me a moment of your time?”

The greasy gelled comb-over and coffee-stained slacks made Gojo wrinkle his nose almost as much as the desperation that bled off this man.

“For a journalist, you really don’t know how to listen. I’m not interested.”

The man seemed to tremble for a moment, staring at Gojo with a crazed look in his eye, before tightening his fists and looking up at the sky. Lips moving as if reciting something to himself. 

It was fucking weird. 

Gojo was just about to suggest they try squeezing by him when the man looked back at them, a determined grit to his jaw. He pulled two things out of his pocket – a recorder and a notebook. 

He then started walking toward them.

“Gojo Satoru, does the name Fushiguro Toji mean anything to you?”

“Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t going to comment?”

“Is it true that he was a gambling addict and alcoholic?”

“He wasn’t an alcoholic–”

“Is it true he forced himself onto you, and your father outcasted you as a result?”

“That’s not–”

“Do you believe your stockholders are wrong for feeling betrayed when their leadership was unveiled to be an unwed, unmated omega with a bastard child–”

“Stop, that’s not –”

“What does your son think–” The man had been only two steps away from Gojo when Geto stepped forward and shoved him back: one-handedly, and hard enough to cause Mr. Reporter to pinwheel his arms in an effort to retain balance. “That is assault ,” he complained in that reedy voice of his. 

Geto simply shoved him again, “He said to stop.”

In the next moment, Gojo quickly realized one thing: the man must be an idiot. 

Because despite Gojo’s distressed hormones filling the space, and his very pregnant frame being bent over as if to protect his child from any verbal harm, the journalist took two hobbling steps forward. 

“Gojo Satoru, give me just one quote,” his voice was desperate. “Anything,” he begged. Hand reaching out and closing around a pale wrist. 

And there was his next mistake.

A hand closed around the man’s shoulder and pulled him back, tossing him to the ground oh so easily. From above his sprawled body, the man looked up at Geto, an alpha whose aggressive pheromones all but rolled off his body, “Don’t ever touch my mate.” The finger pointed at him may as well be a gun with the violence it promised. 

The man whimpered, watching pathetically as Geto crushed the thrown recorder under his heel and into the grass. 

And maybe Gojo should step in.

But the thing is, he really didn’t want to. 

The adrenaline of the interaction was still pumping through his veins, and on the other hand–

He found this really hot. 

Tense and firm muscles, ready to fight. The quivering, pathetic form of the man cowering beneath. Maybe it was instincts, something so ancestral that he couldn’t even explain it except for the fact that the pregnant omega in him all but preened at the safe feeling the scene in front of him gave.

“Gojo Satoru…” The man croaked, still trying from his place on the floor. 

“Hey asshole!” A high-pitched yell came tumbling down the pathway, followed shortly by a flash of black. 

A moment later, the man on the ground let out a painful noise. 

Standing next to him, leg poised to take another kick, was Megumi, followed closely by Nanako and Mimiko. 

“Leave our mom alone!” Nanako shouted as she kicked the man. 

Mimiko added her own half-hearted kick, “Yeah!”

“Get them away from me!” The man shrieked, hands trying to protect his face, and maybe Geto and Gojo were bad parents because they definitely let it go on longer than they should have. 

As soon as Geto scooped up Megumi and Nanako – one under each arm – the man quickly scrambled up and darted away, nothing more than a flash of grey khakis and stripped button down. 

There was a pause as they all watched him go. Mimiko even going so far as to shake her fist at him ( she’d definitely been watching too much TV , Gojo made a mental note).

“When did you kids finish?” Geto broke the silence, turning with the pups still in his arms, walking back toward where their car was parked. 

Mimiko skipped beside them, grabbing hold of Gojo’s hand to swing their arms together, “Just now.”

“How did you find us?” Gojo asked in his sweet voice reserved exclusively for his softest-hearted kid. 

“Nana heard dad yelling, so we walked  and saw dad push the weird man.”

“Mhmm,” Gojo hummed before turning his attention to the children hanging from their father’s arms, “And where did you learn that language, Gumi?”

The black haired puff refused to look at his mother, instead, crossing his arms and lifting his chin, “I heard you say it to Uncle Kento.”

And—

Fuck, yeah maybe that was Gojo’s fault. 

He was gonna have to be more cautious going forward. 

“Well… don’t do it.” He finished with a very sternly pointed finger, if he did say so himself. 

“Whatever,” Megumi rolled his eyes.

A gasp, “Little mister, did you just roll your eyes at me? Geto, did you see that? We're raising three moody teenagers !”

“Satoru… they're eight.”

A wail, “I’m geriatric!”

Mimiko stopped where she was walking and looked up with her big brown eyes, already starting to water. “Are you dying?” She squeaked. 

“No, it means he’s old.” Nanako quickly corrected. 

“ Oh .” 

“Yeah.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Mimiko?? What do you mean ‘oh’ ?” Gojo gave a tug to their connected hands, trying to catch his daughter’s eye, though she purposefully hid both her gaze and her small suppressed smile. “I’m not old, right? Right? ” He asked the other members of his family. 

No one bothered to answer Gojo, not even Geto, the entire drive back home.

Traitors, all of them.  

***

Geto was once again charged with compiling all the snacks for their weekly Sunday movie night. Months into the tradition, and it had become second nature to grab strawberry Pockys for Mimiko, grapes for Nanako, some gummy bears for Megumi, chocolate bars for the resident candy addict, and finally a huge bowl of popcorn to share. 

Normally, the gathering of their movie night snacks was a fairly peaceful, solitary routine. Withdrawn from where the children (Gojo included) were fighting over the remote and what to watch. 

That was how it normally was. 

Today seemed to be the exception. 

Glaring up at him, hands on her hips, face formed into a pouted-glare, Nanako had been waiting to be acknowledged. 

Something told him he wouldn’t have to wait long for her to spill what was on her mind. 

So instead, he just kept moving around the kitchen, grabbing their designated snacks, before heading to the stove to start the popcorn. 

It was only when said popcorn began to steam and pop that Nanako finally spoke. 

“Are you really not going to tell us if it’s a boy or girl?”

The almost nine year old spoke with a tone and authority that said she was used to being in charge and getting what she wanted. 

Unfortunately for her, that was only the case with her siblings and friends. 

“Nope,” Geto popped the ‘p’ in an annoying manner that reminded him of his mate. 

Realizing her question would indeed go unanswered, Nanako suddenly dropped her facade, closing her eyes and stomping her foot. 

“But dad,” she whined. “I wanna know. Megumi says he already knows!” This was said like it was the worst reality possible. 

“Well, he doesn’t.” Geto assured, although he wasn’t entirely sure about that given the loud-mouthed nature of his mate. 

“He does too!”

Sigh. 

“Nana, I can promise you he doesn’t know.”

“That’s not true! Yesterday, Megumi was saying he really knew and that he wasn’t going to tell us and that it was a secret but then Mimi started crying and t–then he said he’d tell us. But I don’t believe him! So is it really gonna be a—”

A strangled scream sounded from the living room and Geto startled so hard he almost burned himself on the fire. 

What the hell? 

He quickly fumbled with the stove’s knob, head and body already whipping in the direction of the living room. Gently guiding Nanako to the side, Geto stepped into the hallway only to let out a small “ Oomph ” when a body came barreling into his. 

“Gumi? What…?” He looked down at wild black hair and wide green eyes. And maybe it was the restless way the boy seemed to bounce in place or the immediate grip he grabbed Geto’s hand in, but the alpha’s heart started pounding in his chest. He could feel its rapid thumping pulsing through every crevice of his body as the rush of blood almost made him blind with worry. 

Dropping to his knees, frantic hands ran over his son, turning him back and forth, looking for the bruise or cut or ache or what ever had caused Megumi to shout like that. 

“Mom—It’s mom.” Megumi said in a warbling voice, eyes wide in panic and already shiny with tears. 

Satoru?  

Geto paused his movements to look at Megumi. To wait for an explanation, a reason, a confirmation that his mate was okay. 

It took everything not to shake the boy. 

It took more not to shove him aside and just run into the living room. 

In five seconds he would. 

No, make that one second. 

He needed to get up, to get to his mate— 

“He—he peed on the couch!” Megumi was breathing hard, trying not to cry, to get the words out. “A—and now he’s—”

A strangled whimper cut them both off and Geto stood up so abruptly his knees cracked, gathering Megumi in his arms for no other reason than the instinct to keep the pup close as he ran to the living room. 

The scent that hit them as soon as they entered the room was nothing like he’d ever smelled before: panic and pain, sour milk and blooming florals. 

“Suguru,” Gojo choked out, his form hunched over, a trembling hand holding his body up against a darkening couch. 

When blue eyes looked up, it felt like the ground dropped out from under Geto’s feet. 

With a shaky smile, Gojo extended a hand toward his mate, “I think the baby’s coming— yeah ,” a groan and wince, "definitely coming. Come help me up.” 

No further invitation needed, Geto put Megumi right back down with a firm reassuring squeeze before moving over to help his mate up. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, worry seeping into his tone. He definitely was not panicking at the feel of his mate’s clammy hand in his. “Should I call an ambulance? Or—wait—I need to get the overnight bag. Do we have everything? I think I’d been planning to buy another baby blanket. No, actually let me go get you some new pants. Satoru—”

A half-laugh that pattered out into another groan, “I keep forgetting it’s your first time. I’m fine. We have a bit of time. The contractions aren’t too close yet. Call your mom to watch the kids, and— ah —just focus on getting us to the hospital in one piece.”

“Are you sure—”

“Suguru, stop arguing with the pregnant person, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Geto quickly acquiesced, trying not to feel like he was entirely out of his ball park. Like seeing Gojo flushed and yet so pale with twitches of pain, didn’t hurt. 

The next 15 minutes were surreal—having to wait with bated breath in the kitchen for his mother, overnight bag by his feet; Gojo’s sweaty hand in his as the omega gritted through the pain. And despite Gojo insisting he was okay and that they had time, Geto felt entirely restless, unsure if he wanted to run his omega to the hospital or sequester him in their bedroom to scent and protect until the baby arrived. 

It had to be one of the most stressful times of his life. Easily a top ten. 

At least, that’s what Geto had thought. 

His opinion changed drastically when they got to the hospital. 

He clearly hadn’t known what ‘stressful’ could mean until now. 

Once Gojo was rushed into a private delivery room, Geto was situated at the side of the bed, unable to do anything for the next few hours but fetch ice chips, release soothing pheromones, and caress white hair back from a sweaty forehead while allowing his other hand to be squeezed bloodless. 

The whimpering, curses and shouts along with the increasingly distressed scent filling the room would probably haunt Geto forever. 

He couldn’t believe he’d missed his daughters’ birth, that their mother had gone through this twice. 

The thought of going through this again made his stomach turn. 

Especially when the baby began to breach. 

After that it was a flurry of doctors, nurses, blood, shouting, and one high pitched shriek that soothed the entire room into taking a collecting breath of relief. 

By the time Geto went to meet his mother and three pups in the waiting room, he was a sweaty, exhausted, glowing mess. 

“Okay,” Geto turned from the door, one hand pressed against the knob, “Now, what did I say?”

“Be really quiet,” Mimiko whispered. 

“Be careful,” Nanako added. 

“…” Megumi said. 

“Good enough,” Geto shrugged before pushing the door open and herding three hesitant pups inside. 

A little ways in, Gojo sat on the bed, half covered in a blanket, hair still stuck to his forehead. 

In his arms was a pink bundle. 

He looked up with a smile and gestured for them all to come closer. 

The kids needed no further invite, completely ignoring Geto’s earlier advice as they all scrambled closer: the girls coming to stand on the left side of the bed while Megumi crawled up to sit right next to his mother, pressed to his side. 

All three stared wide-eyed down at the pink bundle, Geto joining them. 

“Oh,” Megumi breathed. 

Blinking back up at them was a pair of big blue eyes, with the littlest tuft of black hair making itself known. 

“Say hi to your new baby sister,” Gojo whispered to their pups but looked up at Geto with a proud shine in his eyes. 

The feeling was mutual. 

We did it .