Pregnant, hot and dangerous

The morning is pissing me off so bad I feel like throwing up. Literally. First reason: it’s hot as hell. I’m sweating like a pig in heat, stuck to the couch like my skin’s fused to the damn fabric. The air’s thick, heavy, hot—feels like the entire world decided to fry along with me. Second reason? Eijiro, the red-haired dumbass I love and hate in equal measure, burned the fucking bacon. And it’s not like I’ve had a lot of cravings lately—but that was one of them. The smell of burnt bacon rose and hit me like a brick, made me so nauseous I wanted to punch him square in his stupid face. And the third—and most important—reason? He doesn’t want to fuck. Just doesn’t want to. Says he might hurt me. Might hurt the baby. That “it’s dangerous.” That “not now, babe.” That “it’s almost time.” Like, seriously? He thinks I’m fragile? Thinks I’ll break? He thinks one light fuck is going to kill me? I stare at the ceiling, mentally cursing every red strand of that shitty hair. I want to strangle him. Rip that damn hair out. I want to scream. I want to fuck. I want… I want a lot of things. I sink into the couch, defeated, dignity gone. I feel like a lump of meat melting into the cushions. The urge to cry hits me all at once, like a punch straight to the chest. My lip trembles, pout forming. I try to resist. Don’t cry, Bakugo. Don’t cry. It’s pointless. But the tears come anyway. Hot, stinging tears that roll down my already overheated face. And it pisses me off even more. Pisses me off because I’m crying. Pisses me off because the tears are hot. Pisses me off because the tears make the heat worse, and the heat fuels my rage. Pisses me off because Eijiro, my alpha, my idiot, won’t fuck me. I want to scream. I want to punch the world. “Bakugo?” I hear his voice. I turn my head, fury in my eyes, and see the bastard standing in the doorway, holding the glass of ice water I asked for. That glass that was supposed to bring me relief. He looks worried. He moves toward me quickly, crouching in front of me. “You okay?” he asks, voice soft, gentle, stupid. I don’t answer. I don’t even feel like it. He sits beside me. I shake my head slowly. I’m not okay. I’m not even close to okay. He cups my cheeks with those big, gentle hands I love. Looks me in the eyes. “What’s wrong, love?” he asks. I don’t answer. I just grab the glass. The water is ice cold—blissfully cold. I bring it to my lips. The relief is small, but right now, it’s everything. It’s so good… it makes me cry harder. The tears fall again. Kirishima pulls me into a hug, and I shove him off with force. “IDIOT!” I scream. He stares at me, confused. “What’s wrong, Bakugo?” “GO FUCK YOURSELF!” I growl. “Go fuck yourself, damn it!” He blinks, still not understanding. Which pisses me off even more. “JUST FUCK ME ALREADY, IDIOT! DUMBASS WITH A FLOPPY DICK THAT GOT ME PREGNANT ON THE FIRST FUCK AND NOW IS TOO SCARED TO GIVE ME ANY PLEASURE!” Kirishima just stands there, stunned. His mouth opens, and then… …he laughs. The BASTARD LAUGHS. I go ballistic. No—beyond ballistic. I go FULL CAPS LOCK RAGE. I lift my hand and slap him. Then again. And again. Not hard—I don’t want to hurt him for real, just show him how fucking pissed I am. He grabs my hand gently but firmly. Takes the other and guides it to my huge belly. “Bakugo,” he says, calm. “You’re nine months pregnant. I’m not risking it, love. The baby’s almost here. After that, I’ll do whatever you want, however you want.” I scream. “I WANT IT NOW!” He takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes for a second. Tries to keep calm—that damn patience of his that drives me insane. “I know you want it,” he says softly. “But I can’t. Not right now.” “Yes you can,” I snap, placing the glass down and crossing my arms, glaring at him with rage and lust. “I know my body, Eijiro. And it’s F.U.C.K.I.N.G time.” He closes his eyes, breathes deep again. I know I threw him off. But then he replies, voice low and patient: “I can go down on you…” I bite my lower lip, frustrated. “Head’s not enough,” I say coldly, shoving his shoulder. Before he can say anything else, I straddle his lap, my massive belly between us—a miscalculation. The belly gets in the way, I can’t sit how I want, can’t get my ass properly on his dick. I’m all off-balance, uncomfortable. I growl loudly. “Fuck,” I hiss, rolling my eyes. “Shit!” Then I take a deep breath and play my final card, using that needy, sweet voice that always makes him melt. “Your omega needs you, Kiri…” His pupils dilate so fast I swear I hear the click in his brain. A second later, he’s moving. He picks me up carefully but firmly, carrying me like I weigh nothing—irritating and arousing all at once. I feel his muscles flex under my hands as he carries me down the hallway. In the bedroom, he sets me down on the bed gently, like I’m precious. Sacred. His eyes meet mine, his hand strokes my cheek. “Let’s take it slow… If you feel any pain, I stop,” he says seriously, voice low and protective. I roll my eyes but nod with a murmur, already biting my lip and tugging at the sweatpants that are strangling me. “Just do it before I change my mind and punch you.” He chuckles and moves quickly. Efficiently. Carefully. Undresses me one piece at a time, slipping the fabric off without making me lift a finger. Soon I’m naked, lying there, sweating, my dick hard and throbbing with need. He strips next. Shirt first, revealing his toned abs and broad chest. Then he lowers his shorts, and his cock drops free—still half-soft but already touching my thigh. The head brushes my skin and I shiver, groaning softly. He positions himself between my legs, spreading them gently with his hot hands, and I open up without resistance. I’m desperate. On the verge of collapse. But he doesn’t go straight in. His fingers glide over my swollen belly, tracing the stretch marks that stripe the skin. A vivid reminder of everything we’re living through. “You look so beautiful like this,” he whispers, staring at my belly. “I know,” I mutter, impatient. “Now fuck me already.” He laughs softly—almost a sigh—and leans in. He kisses me. A hot, slow, wet kiss. His tongue moves over mine, unhurried. He sucks my lower lip, licks the corner of my mouth, bites gently. He kisses me like the world’s ending, like my taste is all he needs. And right now—it is. When he pulls back, breathless, I’m already lifting my hips, begging without words. He kisses down my chin, my neck—I know he’s leaving hickeys. My shoulder, my nipple—it’s big, sore, sensitive. When he bites, I jolt. “Ah, fuck… careful,” I groan, breathless. “Sorry, love,” he murmurs against my skin. “You’re leaking…” He doesn’t suck. Just licks around gently. Kisses the area with care. Then he keeps going lower. Kissing my belly, over the marks, each kiss tender and reverent. He murmurs something I can’t make out. Then he gets between my legs. His hands part my thighs, and he exhales against my hole. I shudder. “You ready for me?” he asks, voice rough. “I was born ready,” I pant. “Now make this fucking meltdown worth it, Kiri.” His tongue—fuck me—his tongue slides over my entrance. Slow. Firm. Worshipful. I’m already leaking, so slick it’s dripping. He groans at the taste. “Shit…” I moan loudly, tossing my head back. He licks again. The tip of his tongue teasing, circling. Then… he pushes it in. “Ah… fuck…” My back arches, stomach muscles clench. I’m so sensitive every move is electric. His tongue moves in and out, slow, deliberate. I can’t hold back. I writhe, panting, body burning. My hands move on instinct—grab his hair, pull him closer, force him to stay. He understands. Thrusts his tongue deeper, playing with my body like it was made for him. “Fuck yes… don’t stop…” I whisper, breath hitching, eyes glistening. He stops. I curse him in my head. But before I speak, he lifts his head. His mouth shines with my slick. His lips are wet, his red eyes glowing. “You’re so wet, Bakugo…” he murmurs, licking his lips. “Your taste is addictive.” I bite my lip, panting. “It’ll taste even better when you’re inside,” I tease, sweaty and needy. He grins. That hot, loving, hungry grin. “If it hurts, tell me,” he says, lining up, voice deeper than usual. “I will,” I breathe, body begging. Then I feel him press in. The head pushes into me. My muscles are relaxed, open, soaked. But even so, when he slides in—it’s overwhelming. Stretching. Filling. Hot. “Ahh—” I moan, gripping the sheets. “Fuck…” I tremble. Being filled like this, slowly, with him—it’s indescribable. He bottoms out. Still for a second. Breathing with me. “You okay?” he asks, his hand on my belly. “Better than okay,” I mutter, eyes half-lidded. “Now move…” He starts thrusting. Slow strokes. Deep. Precise. My body responds instantly. My hips chase more. My eyes roll back. The pleasure floods me like a wave, swallowing everything. The wet sound of him fucking me, our moans, the heavy scent of sex and pheromones—it drowns me. The pace picks up. Still controlled. Still loving. But stronger. Hungrier. “Ahh—Kiri… more…” I moan, fingers digging into his shoulders. He groans, low and rough, and that sound pushes me closer. His moans are a fucking trigger. He kisses me—hot, messy, biting. His hands grip my waist tight. It feels good. So fucking good. Each thrust brings me closer. “Ahh—I’m… I’m close…” He locks eyes with me, voice trembling: “Come for me, love…” And I do. My whole body contracts. I arch. Pleasure detonates like a bomb. My cum shoots over my belly, pulsing, as I tighten around him. And that’s all he needs. Kirishima thrusts deep one last time, and comes inside me, spilling hot and thick, filling me up. His cock pulses inside me as he moans loud and ragged. But in that exact moment— The pain. A sharp jab in my gut, so sudden it knocks the breath from my lungs. A popping sensation under the skin. “Ah—!” Like a balloon burst inside me. Pressure turns to hot, wet release. Rushing. Different than slick or cum. It’s instinctual. Biological. Kirishima’s still inside, panting. He looks at me. “Bakugo?” he asks, eyes wide. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Look at him, breathless, heart racing. I grip his arms and whisper, stunned: “My water broke.” Kirishima goes pale. “HOLY FUCK.”