the one

If he had been an Alpha, would he have been able to fight Madara off and escape this situation?

The thought burned at the edges of Tobirama’s mind, seeping into the fractures of his consciousness.

If he had been an Omega, would he have sensed the pheromones in time?

Would he have smelled the warning before stepping into Madara’s room, before it was too late to run?

Tobirama’s thoughts drifted like a body submerged in deep waters—heavy, slow, sinking. His limbs, exhausted from struggle, no longer felt like his own. Even his mind now waded through thick, suffocating fog, grasping at rationality that slipped like sand through his fingers.

Yet, within the haze of his fractured consciousness, the reality of his body remained brutally clear.

Madara was still moving inside him, relentless. The force of each thrust reverberated through Tobirama’s spine, the brutal rhythm echoing in his bones.

His legs were now being held open, helpless against Madara’s grip. The Alpha’s hands wrapped around his thighs, lifting them onto his muscular arms with ease, positioning him, keeping him spread wide to make the movements seamless.

The heat, the friction, the unbearable weight pressing Tobirama down—everything blurred into an overwhelming cacophony of sensation.

His breath hitched, his chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven gasps. His heart pounded against his ribs.

Tobirama could feel it—the sheer weight of the Alpha pressing down on him, suffocating every breath he took.

Hot. Everything was unbearably hot.

Madara's sweat clung to his skin, muscles like iron trapping him, giving him no chance—no escape.

Betas were not like Omegas.

Their bodies weren't made for this.

The body of a Beta like Tobirama was not designed for this.

Unlike an Omega, Tobirama’s body lacked the natural ability to accommodate, to yield, to produce the slick warmth that made intrusion easier.

A Beta like Tobirama wasn’t built to take, to be filled, to accommodate an Alpha the way an Omega would.

He was not built to take, only to endure.

And right now, endurance felt indistinguishable from suffering.

There was no natural slick, no way for his body to ease the agony tearing through him.

And yet, Madara forced his way in.

Bit by bit.

Tearing through the resistance.

Ripping him apart.

Fingers at first then the heat of his mouth, the wet, relentless pressure of his tongue prying him apart, forcing his body to yield where it refused.

“Since it’s your first time, I’ll make sure you’re stretched and ready for me, Tobirama.” Madara murmured, his voice a low, indulgent purr. “Next time, I won’t hold back—I’ll claim you completely.”

Tobirama barely registered the words, his vision blurring at the edges. His legs, draped over Madara’s strong forearms, twitched involuntarily as the Alpha’s mouth worked between them, tongue pressing into the depths of a place that had never been touched before. The wet, obscene sounds filled the suffocating space of the room.

It was too much.

Too much, yet not enough to erase the pain.

His mind felt like it was floating—adrift in a heavy, suffocating sea, dragging him downward. The weight of it was drowning him, and he could do nothing but let himself sink.

The first time Madara forced his cock in, the pain was a searing, merciless thing.

It burned, stretched beyond its limits, and all Tobirama could do was take it, his breath catching in sharp, silent gasps as his body strained against something it was never meant to accept.

He had faced death countless times. He had stood at the edge of battle, staring down his own mortality without fear.

But now—now, as his body was split apart, Tobirama wondered which was worse: dying on the battlefield, or living through this.

If he were an Omega, would it still feel like dying?

Would the pain be as unbearable? Would his body have yielded instead of tearing? Would the agony of being taken like this still leave him shaking, breathless, barely clinging to consciousness?

Was this it?

Was this the kind of intimacy Omegas like Izuna spent their lives chasing?

"Hey, Tobirama, let's get married." The words had come so easily from Izuna's lips.

Tobirama's mind drifted, lost in the echoes of a conversation from years past.

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Tobirama had scoffed, brushing off the Uchiha clinging to his shoulder, his focus never leaving the stack of village reports in his hands.

"I'd make a decent mate, wouldn't I? We'd even look good together." Izuna had only laughed, his grin wide, unshaken.

"You're insufferable," Tobirama had muttered.

"Marry me, Tobirama. You won't regret it. I'll give you chubby little pups to raise."

The memory of Izuna's playful voice, his laughter—the way he had leaned in to press a quick kiss to Tobirama's cheek—felt so foreign now.

Back then, it had been nothing more than a joke.

Back then, it had been easy to dismiss.

But in the present—as an Alpha's hands forced Tobirama’s legs apart, as his body was used, ravaged, and taken without care—Tobirama found himself sinking into the past, retreating into a time when things had been different.

Izuna had found his destined Alpha in the end.

It was inevitable.

On the day of Izuna's wedding, Tobirama had stood by his side, listening to the quiet apology the Omega whispered to him.

"I'm sorry, Tobirama. I couldn't keep that promise to you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Tobirama had replied. "You were only joking back then."

"I couldn't resist it." Izuna's voice had been soft. "Every cell in my body calls out for him.”

“My Alpha."

Fate.

It had always been fate.

The Alpha-Omega bond was something that transcended logic, reason.

They were made for each other. Drawn together, bound in ways a Beta like Tobirama would never be able to understand.

A Beta was free. Unclaimed, unshackled by pheromones or instincts.

Belonging to no one.

And yet, standing there on Izuna's wedding day, watching the Omega step toward his Alpha, Tobirama had realized something.

Betas weren't bound to anyone.

But that also meant—they were never truly wanted.

Never needed.

Never someone's first choice.

It was the curse of his existence, and Tobirama had accepted it.

And yet—

If I were an Omega... would it still hurt this much?

If he were an Omega, would his body have responded to Madara's touch instead of rejecting it?

Would pheromones have clouded his mind, made him pliant, made the pain disappear—made him crave instead of recoil?

Instead, his Beta body had nothing. No natural slick. No biological urge to yield.

Only pain.

Blinding, soul-crushing pain.

Was this it?

Was this the kind of carnal devotion that sent Omegas like Izuna chasing after their Alphas, yearning, desperate to be claimed?

Tobirama's vision blurred.

Was it exhaustion?

Or was it the tears he refused to acknowledge?

"What are you thinking about, Tobirama?"

The voice was deep, rich, edged with something dangerous. A tether yanking Tobirama out of his thoughts, forcing him back into the present.

Back into the agony of reality.

It was Madara.

The Alpha still buried deep inside him.

Tobirama's body did not react—not to the voice, not to the heat pressing into his skin. His gaze remained empty, fixed on the ceiling above.

But then—

Madara moved.

Not his hips this time—but his hands.

Fingers calloused from battle reached for Tobirama’s face, forcing his chin upward, tilting his head just enough to make Tobirama see.

See him.

Those burning, suffocating red eyes.

Sharingan spinning, piercing through the haze.

"Look at me."

"Think only of me."

Madara's breath brushed against Tobirama’s lips.

"I won't allow you to think of anything else."

And then Madara kissed him.

At first, it was deceptively soft. A slow, deliberate brush of lips, as if savoring the moment. As if indulging in some twisted fantasy.

But Madara's patience had never been endless.

Fangs pressed into his lower lip, a sharp bite demanding submission.

Then—heat.

A tongue, rough and insistent, prying its way into Tobirama’s mouth, stealing every last breath left inside him. Tobirama barely had time to react before his tongue was seized—sucked into the Alpha's mouth, ravaged, owned.

The kiss was no longer a kiss.

It was devouring.

Wet, messy sounds filled the space between them, obscene, shameless.

Madara took everything.

Even the saliva from Tobirama's mouth.

The Alpha swallowed it down, his throat shifting with each movement, a silent testament to his hunger.

During their ruts, Alphas craved submission.

They longed for soft, pliant Omegas—bodies slick with heat, mouths dripping with pheromones that could turn even the most brutal of couplings into something smoother, more indulgent.

But Madara was never gentle.

Not with Tobirama.

Not when Tobirama knew there was nothing in him worth savoring.

His lips were bruising, his tongue relentless, pressing deeper, demanding more, more, more.

It wasn't enough to kiss Tobirama.

Madara wanted to consume him.

Only when Tobirama's lips throbbed with pain, when his tongue went numb, when his entire mouth ached with the force of it—only then did Madara pull away.

And yet, it was never for long.

Because the moment Tobirama gasped for air, the cycle began anew—Madara's mouth slamming back onto his, stealing whatever breath remained inside him.

There was no tenderness.

No patience.

Only hunger—desperate, wild, unrelenting.

As if Madara were searching for something inside of him.

And Tobirama knew exactly what.

Pheromones.

The taste of an Omega—their essence, their submission, their need.

Madara sought it in every wet, devouring kiss, in every deep thrust of his tongue.

Madara hunted for it even when his mouth strayed lower, swallowing Tobirama's cock into the searing heat of his throat.

He was relentless, lips stretched wide, movements harsh, sucking Tobirama down with an obsession that bordered on madness.

It was never slow.

Never careful.

Madara's tongue curled, pressing, demanding, forcing Tobirama’s body to respond.

Each time Tobirama spilled down his throat, Madara took it all—swallowed it, devoured it, held Tobirama down until the pleasure turned to agony.

And still, it was never enough.

Because Tobirama was just a Beta.

A hollow vessel.

A body without the scent, without the sweetness, without the submission written into his biology.

And yet, Madara kept searching—digging, clawing, taking—

As if he could wring the impossible out of Tobirama.

As if, if he just fucked Tobirama hard enough, deep enough—

He could make Tobirama more.

More pliant. More weak. More his.

Madara could break him down, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but instinct—

Until Tobirama stopped fighting, stopped resisting, stopped thinking altogether.

Until his body learned to crave him, to open for him, to belong to him—

Even if he was only a Beta.

Even if he wasn’t made for this.

Even if, in the end, Madara was chasing a fantasy that would never exist.

The Alpha spared Tobirama’s lips but only so he could let his tongue trace slow paths across the pale expanse of Tobirama’s body.

From his lips to the curve of his throat, Madara lingered at the delicate juncture where Tobirama’s gland should have been.

Again, the sharp press of fangs.

Again, the sting of torn flesh, raw and unhealed from the countless times before.

Tobirama didn’t know how many times he had been bitten throughout this unbearable rut—only that every wound had barely begun to scab before it was torn open anew. The Alpha refused to let them heal, refused to let them fade.

It was as if he thought that if he marked Tobirama enough times, if he pressed hard enough, he could overwrite reality itself.

That somehow, through sheer desperation, the bond that should have existed would be forced into being.

But no matter how many times Madara sank his teeth in, no matter how violently he claimed and re-claimed what was never his to take, the truth remained unshaken.

Tobirama would never be bound to him.

And yet, the Alpha could not stop.

His breath was uneven against Tobirama’s throat. He lapped at the fresh wound he had just made, the metallic taste of blood saturating his tongue, his hands pressing down hard against Tobirama’s body as if trying to hold him in place, as if afraid that if he let go, even for a moment, Tobirama would disappear entirely.

After satisfying his desire with Tobirama's gland, Madara's hands continued to roam, eagerly caressing the soft, swollen flesh of Tobirama's chest. The Alpha’s fingers squeezed them, relishing in their softness and the way they yielded beneath his touch.

"Your tits are so soft," the Alpha murmured, his voice low, almost purring as he brushed his lips over the sensitive nipple. "But they're not nearly as full as they should be, are they? Not enough to feed my pup yet."

The Alpha leaned in closer, sucking gently on the hard, swollen nipple, savoring the taste as he spoke. "Still not big enough. I can still cover them completely with my hand. How is that supposed to nourish our future pup?"

Madara’s hands pressed down harder, his fingers digging deep into the tender flesh of Tobirama’s chest. As he squeezed, the imprint of his palms lingered, a faint but undeniable mark left behind on the swollen flesh. The pressure from the Alpha’s grip was enough to leave behind the clear shape of his hands, each curve of his fingers stamped into the delicate skin like a brand.

Tobirama's body trembled as Madara's hands continued to fondle and squeeze the swollen flesh. Madara's hands were relentless, moving over his breast, squeezing and pressing, as though trying to coax something from Tobirama that he was not ready to give.

Madara's voice dropped a little lower as his hands continued their motion. "Squeezing and massaging like this... it'll make your breast grow, Tobirama. Slowly, but it'll happen. The more I do it, the bigger they'll get, until they're full and heavy, ready for what's to come."

"When these are big enough that I can't even wrap my hands around them anymore, that's when they'll be good enough to feed our little one." The Alpha growled.

Madara's fingers paused for a moment, his gaze intense as he looked down at Tobirama. "Eventually, when you're carrying our pup... your body will change. You'll have milk, enough to nourish our pup. When the time comes, l'll be the one to take it from you, just like our pup will. It's inevitable, Tobirama.”

The Sharingan swirled to life again as Madara fixed his gaze on Tobirama, his hands moving to squeeze harder, the pressure almost painful as he twisted and kneaded the swollen flesh. "When your tits are full of milk, I'll be the one sucking it out.”

The Alpha leaned down, taking the hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking on it before letting out a low laugh. “You're gonna be full of milk for me and our pup, and l'll fucking enjoy every second of it."

The Alpha’s words were soft, almost tender in tone, but to Tobirama, they felt like a humiliation he could not escape.

The cruelty in them was masked by the gentle quality of the voice, but it pierced deeper than any blade. It was a wound that no one else could see but Tobirama, carving away at his dignity in the quietest of ways.

Tears sprang anew from Tobirama’s eyes, slipping down his cheeks like a silent stream that refused to end. His body trembled with every sob.

The sound of his crying hung in the air, fragile, like a broken note that echoed too loudly in the silence.

And the Alpha heard it—each tremor of breath, each quiet sob—and for a moment, the cruel hands paused.

His lips, which had been so insistent, now fell away from Tobirama’s swollen nipple.

His fingers, once tight and controlling, slowly loosened their grip, leaving only the faint imprint of their passage.

His eyes, dark with intent, now shifted upward, meeting Tobirama’s gaze.

“I… I’m a Beta…” Tobirama’s voice cracked, choked with sobs as he buried his face in his trembling hands. His entire body quaked with the weight of his words, his breath stuttering between hiccupped cries, each syllable escaping him in pieces.

“I can’t… I can’t carry your pup.” His voice wavered, raw and fragile, each word scraping against his throat like broken glass. “No matter how much you—no matter how many times you take me… this body… this is a Beta’s body. I won’t ever be able to bear your pup.” His hands clenched tighter, nails pressing into his skin as if trying to hold himself together, as if grounding himself in pain was the only way to stay afloat in the suffocating despair that threatened to consume him whole.

“So please…” His breath hitched, chest rising and falling in jagged tremors as he forced himself to continue, the words barely making it past his shaking lips. “Please… just let me go. I—I can’t take this anymore. My body… it’s already at its limit.” His voice broke, and for a moment, it was as if the entire world had shattered with him. “What you need is an Omega—a real Omega. A mate who can give you what you want. An Omega who will carry your pup willingly.”

Each word felt like a wound torn open, raw and gaping. It felt like tearing himself apart, piece by piece, with no promise of ever being whole again.

And still, the tears wouldn’t stop.

They fell in a steady, unrelenting stream, spilling down his cheeks like a river that had long since burst its banks. He wept, and he didn’t know when he would stop—if he would ever stop.

Tobirama was breaking.

And he wasn’t sure if there was anything left of him to put back together.

Even when the Alpha wrenched Tobirama’s hands away from his tear-streaked face, he could not stop crying. His breath came in shallow, shuddering gasps, his shoulders trembling under the weight of exhaustion and despair. He turned his head away, desperate to escape the scorching intensity of the Alpha’s gaze.

Even when Madara leaned in to taste the tears trailing down his cheeks, Tobirama sobbed, shaking his head violently. His voice, raw and choked, broke between his words.

“I—I’m a Beta… I can’t… I can’t get pregnant…”

His plea was barely a whisper, cracking as it left his throat. He was drowning, his mind unraveling at the edges.

“This body… it’s already reached its limit… Please… stop this, Uchiha-sama…”

Tobirama winced at the sound of his own voice—weak, fractured, pleading. It was a foreign sound, one he never thought he would make.

But the Alpha above him merely sighed.

“Tobirama,” Madara murmured, dragging his lips along the curve of Tobirama’s ear, his voice smooth, slow, dripping with something possessive.

Tobirama flinched, body wracked with silent sobs, yet Madara merely pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Do you know what I found while you were unconscious?” the Alpha mused, lips brushing against Tobirama’s damp cheek, collecting the remnants of his tears like a man savoring the finest of wines.

Tobirama gave no answer. He only trembled harder.

Madara exhaled, soft, deliberate, before his lips ghosted down to the pale column of Tobirama’s throat.

“Your womb, Tobirama.”

A violent shudder wracked Tobirama’s spine.

Madara smiled against his skin.

“Just like the rest of you—” he murmured, pressing another kiss, then another, each one slow, deliberate, as though mapping out every inch of the Beta beneath him, “—it’s stubborn. Untouched. Resistant to me. No matter how much I push, it refuses to yield. It keeps me out, refuses to let me in.”

As if to punctuate his words, Madara let his teeth sink lightly into the bruised skin of Tobirama’s neck—right where he had already bitten him countless times before.

Tobirama gasped, his fingers twitching, curling into the sheets beneath him, into anything he could hold onto, anything to anchor himself as Madara continued his slow descent down his body, lips searing against the burning cold of Tobirama’s skin.

“But you see, Tobirama,” Madara continued, his voice hushed, “there is always a way in.”

The Beta’s breath hitched.

Madara chuckled, pressing his palm over the quivering plane of Tobirama’s stomach.

“Do you want to know…” He licked over the fresh imprint of his teeth. “…how I found it?”

By the time Tobirama's mind caught up to Madara's words, his body had already betrayed him.

The Alpha moved without hesitation, his hips snapping forward in deep, unrelenting thrusts, sinking himself to the hilt inside Tobirama's unwilling body. At the same time, Madara’s teeth latched onto Tobirama’s sensitive nipple, fangs pressing just hard enough to teeter the line between pleasure and pain.

And if that weren't enough—Madara's hand wrapped around the Beta's neglected length, fingers firm, demanding, forcing a response.

It was too much.

Too much at once.

A cry ripped itself from Tobirama's throat before he could even think to hold it back.

"A—!"

Tobirama’s back arched violently, his body seizing, a shudder wracking through him as though his nerves had been set ablaze. The muscles in his stomach tensed, trembling, and before he could stop himself, his chest lifted, offering itself up, as if inviting Madara to take more.

No—!

Tobirama sucked in a ragged breath, shaking, fighting against the way his own body reacted, the way it betrayed him so easily under the onslaught of sensations.

And then—

Something inside him clenched. A place untouched. A place that should not have been found, should not have been reached.

A Beta's reproductive system was naturally atrophied—a useless, withered thing that had long since lost its function.

No Beta was supposed to have a womb that could be filled.

The forgotten, useless organ buried deep within Tobirama—shriveled, hidden, never meant to serve a purpose.

But Madara had found it.

Madara's cock struck it again, sending a sharp, involuntary jolt through Tobirama's spine. Tobirama’s breath hitched, strangled in his throat, his fingers grasping uselessly at the sheets beneath him. His vision blurred, and for a second, his mind blanked.

Madara noticed. Of course he noticed.

"Open it."

The command was guttural, rasped through gritted teeth. Madara drove his hips forward again, harder this time, punishing.

Tobirama gasped, flinching, his breath stuttering.

"Open your womb, Tobirama," Madara growled, his fingers tightening around Tobirama's cock as though willing his body to obey.

A wave of dread shot down Tobirama's spine. His mouth fell open, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

"I—I can't—“

Tobirama sobbed, voice cracking, body trembling beneath Madara's weight, his nails digging helplessly into his own palms.

"Can't," he repeated, his breath ragged, his mind swimming. "I—I'm a Beta—l can't—"

He was shaking. His body was shutting down.

But Madara didn't stop.

A sharp cry tore from Tobirama's lips as the Alpha sheathed himself inside him once more, ruthless, relentless, merciless.

Madara's palm burned against Tobirama's skin. He had one hand wrapped firmly around Tobirama's length, stroking with an agonizing rhythm—never too fast, never enough to grant relief. The deliberate cruelty of it made Tobirama's breath hitch, his chest heaving as he shuddered under the Alpha's relentless control.

The Sharingan eyes bore into him, watching every reaction, every involuntary twitch of his muscles, every flicker of pleasure mixed with dread on his face.

And then, without warning—Madara would slow. Or stop. Leaving Tobirama stranded at the precipice of release, unable to tumble over, unable to escape.

Tobirama swallowed hard, a sickening wave of frustration and fear twisting inside him.

He knew what Madara was waiting for. What Madara was demanding.

"Be good," Madara murmured against the flushed curve of Tobirama's shoulder, his lips dragging languidly across sweat-slicked skin, pressing slow, indulgent kisses. "Open up for me, and I'll let you come... Wouldn't that be nice?"

The words slithered into Tobirama's ears like poison, curling into his mind, coaxing him toward a precipice he refused to approach.

His throat bobbed, hands trembling as he gripped at nothing, his body instinctively shrinking away.

"No... I—I can't," Tobirama gasped, shaking his head frantically. "I won't—l—It's not possible—"

Tobirama curled into himself, arms folding protectively over his stomach, his knees threatening to draw up, as if that could somehow shield him. As if that could somehow keep Madara out.

But before he could even finish speaking—Madara moved.

A sharp, empty coldness flooded into Tobirama's core as the Alpha withdrew, leaving behind only the blunt, swollen tip pressing against his entrance.

A fleeting reprieve.

A cruel deception.

Because in the next instant—Madara thrust back in.

Hard.

Deep.

A guttural cry wrenched itself from Tobirama's throat as his spine arched violently, his fingers clawing at the sheets beneath him.

His stomach clenched, a pulse of deep, twisting pain radiating outward. His breath shattered.

His entire body knew.

Madara had found it.

The walls of muscle hidden deep inside him, the tightly locked barrier of flesh that was never meant to yield, never meant to open. The part of him that marked his body as Beta—unreachable, untouched, impossible to claim.

Until now.

Madara had struck it, forcing it open.

Tobirama's eyes widened in shock, his hands flying to his lower abdomen, fingers pressing desperately against his own skin as though he could stop it.

As though he could keep himself from feeling the way his own body was being pried apart, reshaped to accommodate the Alpha's brutal intrusion.

His lips parted, a strangled, broken noise escaping before he could form words, before he could even think beyond the unbearable pressure threatening to consume him whole.

His insides twisted.

His breath shuddered.

Madara exhaled a pleased, satisfied hum, rolling his hips forward with unrelenting force.

"You can," the Alpha growled, his cock pressing even deeper into the yielding flesh. "You will."

Tobirama's vision blurred, his body trembling.

No.

No, no, по—

Madara's voice, once deceptively gentle, vanished without a trace.

He bit down on the flushed shell of Tobirama's ear, dragging his teeth along the sensitive flesh before his tongue, slick and warm, probed mercilessly into the depths of his ear canal. The wet sounds were obscene, sending a violent shudder down Tobirama's spine.

"I want you to remember this," Madara growled, each syllable deliberate, as if carving them into Tobirama's very bones. "The feeling of me forcing your womb open—while you're awake. While you're fully aware, Tobirama."

The words struck like a branding iron, lodging themselves somewhere deep within Tobirama's gut. He wanted to resist, to summon the usual ice in his veins, but his body betrayed him. His throat quivered, a breathless, broken moan escaping before he could swallow it down.

"Aah—“

Madara exhaled, slow and heavy, against the dampened shell of his ear. The sheer heat of it made Tobirama's legs tremble. His body had never known submission, had never learned the language of surrender—Until now, until him.

"I'm inside," Madara murmured, a dark, guttural satisfaction coating his voice. "Your womb, Tobirama. I've reached it."

The words were so crude, so devastatingly real, that Tobirama's breath hitched. His fingers curled into the sheets beneath them, nails digging so deep they left crescent-shaped indentations.

But Madara wasn't done.

"So soft," the Alpha mused, his tone darkly possessive. "So tight, so fragile..."

Tobirama's tears wouldn't stop.

They streamed down the flushed curve of his cheeks, dripping onto the sheets beneath him like silent pleas for mercy.

His voice, thin and trembling, broke between ragged breaths.

"D-don't... not so deep—ah... it'll tear, I—I'll die...!"

But his cries only seemed to amuse the Alpha. A deep, satisfied chuckle rumbled in Madara's chest.

"How fragile," Madara said. "You won't break that easily."

And with that, Madara drove himself forward again, unrelenting. The wet, obscene sounds of flesh meeting flesh filled the air, each thrust turning Tobirama's insides into nothing more than a vessel—a toy—meant solely for Madara's cock.

Tobirama could feel it.

The ruthless stretch, the unbearable fullness.

His womb, unused to such brutal use, clenched involuntarily around the thick intrusion, as if instinctively trying to take in more—to hold onto him deeper. The soft, swollen walls, slick and aching, molded themselves desperately around the swollen head of the Alpha's cock, pulling at it, milking it, as if begging him to spill his seed inside.

No.

No, по, по—!

Tobirama shook his head, panic surging in his chest. He could feel it—the raw hunger of his own body, the way it welcomed this violation despite the pain, as if it had been made for this.

His traitorous, wretched body, desperate for an Alpha's claim, shuddering beneath the weight of Madara's dominance.

Tobirama wanted to scream.

To claw at his own skin, to tear out the sickening need blooming somewhere deep inside him like a curse.

But all that came out were helpless, broken cries.

And Madara?

Madara only watched with lazy amusement as the Beta beneath him writhed, caught in the cruel contradiction of agony and unwilling desire.

"How greedy," the Alpha murmured, pressing his palm flat against Tobirama's trembling stomach, feeling the way his cock dragged deep inside. "You're sucking me in, Tobirama. Clenching around me like you want it."

The humiliation was unbearable.

Tobirama bit his lip, trying to suppress the sobs threatening to spill over.

But his body would not let him hide. The slick heat inside him only grew more feverish, his muscles quivering, his insides pleading for more even as his mind screamed against it.

Tobirama wanted to run.

He wanted to vanish, to disappear into nothing.

But why—why was it getting even bigger?

Tobirama's breath hitched, his whole body going rigid as the realization struck.

The thick heat inside him, already unbearable, was swelling.

"No—stop—pull out, pull out!" His voice cracked, desperation lacing every syllable as he twisted, struggled, his nails clawing at the sheets beneath him.

Tobirama had to get away. He had to—

Madara's hands were merciless. Large, unyielding, they slid down to his waist, tightening like iron shackles before yanking him back, forcing him down, spearing him open. A sharp cry tore from Tobirama's throat.

A final thrust—deep, devastating, inescapable.

And then—Tobirama felt it.

The thick knot at Madara's base, once just a subtle pressure, was now swelling, locking itself inside Tobirama. The heavy weight of it pushed insistently against his deepest parts, stretching him beyond what Tobirama thought possible.

Tobirama's breath came in shallow, trembling gasps.

No. No, no, no—this wasn't happening.

His instincts screamed at him to resist, to claw and bite and fight his way free, but his body was already tightening around the intrusion, helpless against the cruel biology forcing it to submit.

Tobirama sobbed, the sound half-choked, barely escaping past the lump in his throat.

Above him, Madara groaned, low and guttural, as if drunk on instinct. His grip on Tobirama's hips was punishing, possessive.

He wasn't letting go.

He wouldn't let go.

Tobirama's vision blurred, hot tears spilling freely down his face.

His hands clenched into fists, nails digging deep into his own skin, trying to ground himself—to remind himself that he was still Senju Tobirama, that he was more than just this—more than a trembling body trapped beneath an Alpha's weight.

A hoarse, shattered cry tore from Tobirama’s lips. His entire body jerked, then seized, as a wave of unbearable sensation crashed over him.

He came—helplessly, shamefully—his release spilling over Madara’s fingers.

The humiliation was suffocating.

Tobirama gasped, his breath stuttering in his throat, but there was no time to recover.

Madara wasn’t done.

The thick knot inside him swelled to its fullest, locking them together, sealing Madara deep inside. The finality of it sent a fresh wave of panic through Tobirama’s trembling frame, but his body had reached its limit. His struggles had dulled to weak, broken twitches, his limbs drained of all strength.

He sagged in Madara’s arms, spent and unmoving, his consciousness teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Madara tilted his head down, dark eyes flickering over the Beta in his grasp. Tobirama had stopped resisting. His body, usually so tense with defiance, now lay limp against him.

But Madara didn’t look satisfied.

Far from it.

His grip tightened, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl.

“Tobirama,” he muttered, low and sharp, “I am not pleased that you thought throwing an Omega at me would get you out of this.”

Tobirama’s breath hitched. The words cut through the thick haze in Tobirama’s mind like a blade. His fingers twitched weakly, but he couldn’t move—couldn’t answer.

But before he could react, Madara’s grip on his chin tightened, forcing him to turn—to face him.

Madara’s breath was hot against his skin, his teeth grazing dangerously along the side of his throat.

“Did you think I’d take an Omega and let you go?” he snarled, voice rough with something dark. His fangs pressed into Tobirama’s pulse, not biting, but threatening.

“Did you think it would make you free?”

A sharp, bitter laugh rumbled from his chest.

“You should know better, Tobirama.”

Madara’s fingers ghosted over the Beta’s sweat-drenched skin before settling at the base of his throat.

Tobirama flinched.

It was a subtle movement—barely there—but Madara felt it. And it only fueled the fire burning in his blood.

“I will teach you, Tobirama.” Madara lips brushed against the curve of his throat, a featherlight contrast to the steel in his words. “Even if you don’t want it.”

His hold on Tobirama’s body tightened.

“This life, this eternity—you will learn that I am your Alpha.”

Tobirama’s breath came in short, panicked bursts, but before he could even turn his head away—

Sharp, searing pain exploded at the base of his throat.

Without warning, Madara sank his fangs into the scarred, exhausted gland.

A raw, broken cry tore from Tobirama’s lips, his entire body convulsing under the unbearable pain. Blood, thick and warm, dripped down his skin, staining both of them in something irreversible.

Madara didn’t move.

Didn’t let go.

Didn’t release him.

And then, in a voice that left no room for argument, he murmured—

“I am the one for you.”

The Alpha’s lips pressed over the wound. His hold around Tobirama tightened.

“The only one.”

Tears, hot and bitter, spilled from Tobirama’s glassy red eyes.

The sharp, burning agony at the base of his throat hadn't even begun to fade when something worse followed.

Pheromones.

Thick, suffocating, inescapable.

The moment Madara's fangs pulled back from his ravaged gland, the overpowering scent of an Alpha in full rut flooded Tobirama's senses. It was too much—too dense, too consuming, forcing its way into his body.

Tobirama’s breath came in short, shallow gasps, but no matter how hard he tried, his lungs refused to take in anything but Madara.

His vision blurred. His limbs trembled.

And then—heat.

A sudden, unbearable rush of molten pressure bloomed deep inside Tobirama.

Tobirama's back arched, his body instinctively seizing at the sheer force of it—thick, scalding release pouring directly into his womb, filling every inch of his already-overstretched insides.

The Beta’s fingers twitched weakly at his sides, nails dragging over sweat-slick sheets.

The knot locked inside him pulsed, dragging out the unbearable moment, forcing his exhausted body to take every last drop.

Too much. It was too much.

Tobirama's lashes fluttered. His thoughts began to fragment, crumbling under the weight of exhaustion, pheromones, and heat.

His pulse slowed, his vision darkening at the edges.

The last thing Tobirama felt was Madara's arms tightening around him.

Then, everything faded to black.