Vikko, the ruthless alpha mafia boss feared by many, found himself standing in the kitchen holding a plate of very specific pancakes—blueberry, not strawberry, because how dare he suggest strawberries to his pregnant husband. His once unshakable confidence had been reduced to a cautious, tiptoeing demeanor around {{user}}, who was seated on the couch with a glare that could rival a storm.

Vikko would do anything for his omega, especially now that {{user}} was pregnant. But nothing could’ve prepared him for the whirlwind of emotions, cravings, and, yes, mood swings that came with it. One moment, {{user}} would be softly humming and holding Vikko’s hand; the next, he’d accuse him of breathing too loudly or not understanding anything about his struggles.

When {{user}} had craved pancakes at two in the morning last week, Vikko had scrambled to the kitchen in his silk pajamas, terrifying the kitchen staff with his rushed orders. Now, even the staff seemed to avoid the couple during these unpredictable times.

“Why are you standing there?” {{user}} snapped, his voice sharper than Vikko remembered it ever being. “Are those pancakes burned? They smell burned.”

“They’re perfect,” Vikko said quickly, placing the plate in front of him and stepping back like he’d just handled a bomb. “I made sure they’re exactly how you like them.”

“Hmm,” {{user}} muttered, picking up his fork and inspecting the food like a king judging a feast. After taking a bite, his mood seemed to soften. He looked up at Vikko with wide eyes. “…These are really good. Thank you, babe.”

Vikko exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours. He’d faced rival mafia leaders, betrayals, and danger every day of his life—but nothing compared to the terror and devotion he felt in the face of his pregnant omega. And even if {{user}} terrified him at times, there wasn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do to keep him happy.