Katsuki’s command hung in the study’s charged silence, a low vibration in the air. “Up. Bedroom. Now.”

Izuku slid off the desk, his legs trembling. He didn’t look at his mother. Inko pushed herself up from her knees, her movements slow, mechanical. She kept her eyes on the floor as she followed Katsuki’s broad back out of the study and down the hall.

The master bedroom was dark. Katsuki flicked the switch, flooding the space with harsh light. He turned to face them, blocking the doorway. “Clothes. Off.”

Izuku’s fingers went to the hem of Katsuki’s borrowed shirt, the one he’d been given at the clinic. He pulled it over his head, letting it drop. The cool air touched his skin, his small chest, the dark pink of his nipples already tight. He hooked his thumbs into his shirt, pushing it down his thighs in one motion. He stepped out of it, naked and exposed.

Inko stood frozen, her hands clenched at her sides. Her gaze was fixed on a point on the carpet between her son’s bare feet.

“Inko,” Katsuki said, his voice devoid of patience. “I won’t ask twice.”

A shudder ran through her. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. She undressed with a quiet, desperate efficiency, folding each garment as she removed it, a nurse’s habit persisting through the horror. Soon she stood as bare as her son, her body soft and curved, her eyes still downcast.

Katsuki undressed without ceremony. His polo, his pants, his boxers. His cock sprang free, fully hard, thick and uncut and heavy between his thighs. Izuku’s breath hitched at the sight, his green eyes wide and hungry.

“On the bed, Izuku,” Katsuki said. “On your back. Legs open.”

Izuku scrambled onto the king-sized mattress, lying back against the dark sheets. He spread his legs, his knees falling apart. The swollen, hairless lips of his pussy were visibly wet, glistening in the light.

Katsuki looked at Inko. He nodded toward the bed. “Get over there. Use your mouth. You’re going to eat our son’s pussy until he comes.”

Inko’s head snapped up, her green eyes finally meeting his, wide with a fresh wave of disbelief. “Katsuki, you can’t be—”

“I can,” he cut her off, stepping closer. The sheer size of him was a threat. “You listened at the door. You opened it. You put your hands on him. Your mouth on me. You don’t get to pretend this isn’t happening now. Get on the bed and taste him.”

A broken sound escaped her. She moved to the edge of the mattress, her movements stiff. She climbed up, crawling on her hands and knees until she was positioned between Izuku’s spread thighs. She stared at the slick evidence of her son’s arousal, her face pale.

“Mom,” Izuku whispered, his voice a mix of shame and a dark, thrilling excitement.

“Do it,” Katsuki ordered, his own hand wrapping around the base of his cock, giving it a slow, possessive stroke.

Inko bent her head. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her tongue, tentative and cold, touched Izuku’s inner thigh.

“Not there,” Katsuki growled. “There.”

She flinched. Then, with a sob she choked back, she lowered her mouth to her son’s cunt.

The first contact made Izuku jerk. Her mouth was hesitant, clumsy. But the warmth of it, the forbidden softness of his mother’s lips against his most intimate part, sent a jolt straight to his core. A low moan spilled from him.

Katsuki watched, his red eyes burning. He walked to the head of the bed, his heavy footsteps silent on the carpet. He stood over Izuku, his massive cock level with his son’s face. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough. “My good boy. Being so good for us.”

Izuku’s eyes, glazed with pleasure, rolled up to look at his father. At the thick, veined shaft so close he could feel its heat. He could smell the musk of it, mixed with the scent of his own arousal from Inko’s earlier service.

“You want it, don’t you?” Katsuki said, not really asking. He brought the broad, leaking head of his cock to Izuku’s lips, tracing the plush curve. “Open.”

Izuku’s mouth fell open obediently, his tongue darting out to taste the salty pre-come beading at the slit.

Below, Inko’s movements became less hesitant. A desperate, rhythmic need took over, as if by committing fully to the depravity, she could escape the reality of it. Her tongue worked in earnest, lapping at Izuku’s wetness, circling his clit. The sound was obscenely wet.

Izuku gasped around the head of his father’s cock, his hips lifting off the mattress, pushing himself deeper into his mother’s mouth. The dual sensations—the hot, familiar weight on his tongue, the frantic, unfamiliar pleasure between his legs—coiled tight in his belly. His hands fisted in the sheets.

Katsuki pushed forward, just an inch, letting his son feel the stretch of his lips. He held there, watching Izuku’s face contort. “That’s it. Take it. Let your mom make you feel good.”

Izuku’s mouth opened wider, a silent plea, and Katsuki pushed forward. The thick head of his cock slid over his son’s tongue, deeper, until it hit the back of his throat. Izuku gagged, his body jerking, but his hands came up to clutch at Katsuki’s thighs, holding him there.

“Swallow,” Katsuki grunted, his voice thick. He didn’t wait. He pulled back just enough to let Izuku gasp, then shoved back in, harder. The wet, choked sound Izuku made was obscene. “That’s it. Take it all.”

Below, the rhythm broke. Inko had frozen, her mouth still pressed against her son, her wide eyes staring up at the junction of their bodies.

“Did I tell you to stop?” Katsuki’s question was a low crack of thunder. He didn’t look down, his gaze locked on Izuku’s tear-filled eyes. “Your boy is dripping. Clean him up.”

A ragged sob shook Inko’s shoulders. Then she bent back to her task with a frantic, shameful hunger. Her tongue lapped at Izuku’s swollen clit, her lips closing around it to suck, the sounds returning, wetter and more desperate than before.

Izuku screamed around the cock filling his throat, the vibration traveling straight up Katsuki’s spine. His hips bucked off the bed, fucking himself against his mother’s face. Pre-cum from his slit, mixing with Izuku’s saliva, dripping onto his son’s chin.

“You love this, don’t you?” Katsuki rasped, setting a brutal, punishing pace with his hips. Each thrust made Izuku’s head bounce against the headboard. “My cock in your mouth. Your mom’s tongue on your cunt. You’re a fucking dream.”

Izuku’s only answer was a guttural, choked moan. His green eyes rolled back, tears streaming through his freckles. His hands tightened on Katsuki’s thighs, nails digging in.

Inko’s fingers dug into Izuku’s thighs, holding him open. She was lost in it now, a nurse’s clinical focus twisted into something vile and perfect. She ate her son’s pussy with a starving intensity, chasing every twitch and shudder, drinking the evidence of his pleasure.

Katsuki could feel the tight coil in his own gut, the pressure building. He slowed, pulling almost all the way out, letting Izuku cough and drag in a ragged breath. “Look at me, nerd.”

Izuku’s tear-blurred eyes focused, hazy with need.

“You gonna come for your mommy?” Katsuki murmured, tracing his son’s bruised lips with his thumb. “You gonna squirt all over her face while I fuck your pretty mouth?”

A broken, desperate whine was his answer. Izuku’s entire body was trembling, teetering on the edge.

Izuku’s scream tore through the room, muffled and wet around his father’s cock. His back arched off the bed, a violent, beautiful curve, and he came. A hot, gushing flood of release hit his mother’s chin, her cheeks, her open mouth. It soaked her face, dripping down her neck as she kept her lips sealed around him, swallowing convulsively as he pulsed against her tongue.

Katsuki watched his son shatter. He felt the vibration of the scream in his balls. “That’s it,” he grunted, his own control fraying. He pulled his cock from Izuku’s bruised lips, a thick string of saliva and pre-come connecting them. He fisted himself, rough and fast. “Look at her. Look what you did.”

Izuku’s head lolled, his glazed eyes struggling to focus on his mother’s ruined, dripping face. Inko was panting, her breath hitching with silent sobs, her own arousal a slick, shameful heat between her thighs she hadn’t touched.

“Open,” Katsuki commanded Izuku, his voice gravel. Izuku’s mouth fell open, slack and obedient. Katsuki aimed his cock and let go. Thick, white stripes painted his son’s tongue, his freckled cheeks, his closed eyelids. The last pulses landed on his swollen lips. Katsuki grunted, his body shuddering with the force of it. “Swallow.”

Izuku’s throat worked automatically, tasting his father, salty and bitter. He whimpered, spent and overwhelmed.

Below, Inko finally broke. The sight of her son covered in his father’s release, the taste of her son’s own climax still on her lips, the sheer, crushing weight of her participation—it crested over her. A sharp, choked cry escaped her. Her hips jerked against empty air, and she came, untouched, her body seizing with a wave of humiliation so profound it became pleasure. She collapsed forward, her forehead pressing into Izuku’s trembling thigh.

For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the drip of fluid onto silk. Then Katsuki moved. He nudged Inko with his knee. “Up. Get in the bed.”

She crawled, boneless, up the mattress. Katsuki gripped Izuku under the arms, hauling him fully onto the center of the bed. He arranged them like dolls. Izuku in the middle, on his side, curled slightly. Inko on the other side, facing her son. Katsuki slid in behind Izuku, his big body curling around his son’s back. He pulled the covers over them.

“Mommy,” Izuku whispered, his voice raw and small. He reached a hand out blindly.

Inko flinched, then caught it. Her fingers, cold and trembling, laced with his. She shifted closer until her forehead touched his, her other hand coming to rest on his bare hip, just above the swell of his ass.

Katsuki’s arm was a heavy, possessive bar across Izuku’s chest, his hand splayed over his son’s heart. He could feel the frantic beat slowing. His lips brushed the nape of Izuku’s neck. “Sleep.”

“Daddy,” Izuku breathed, already half-gone, nuzzling back into the solid heat of him.

Inko said nothing. She just held her son’s hand, her eyes wide open in the dark, staring at the ghost of his face inches from hers, feeling the new life inside him—and the new, terrible shape of their family—solidify between them.

The living room floor is a battlefield of sweat and skin. Izuku’s pregnant belly, about to pop, swollen and tight, strains against the carpet with every brutal thrust from behind. Katsuki’s hips are a piston, slamming into his son’s dripping cunt with a wet, rhythmic slap that echoes off the walls. “Take it,” he grunts, his voice shredded raw. “Take all of it, you greedy little slut.”

Inko is draped over her son’s front, her mouth sealed over Izuku’s, swallowing his broken, screaming moans. Her hands cradle his face, her thumbs stroking his tear-streaked cheeks. She tastes salt and desperation. Her own naked body presses against the hard curve of his stomach, feeling the life inside kick in protest to the pounding rhythm.

“Daddy—please—” Izuku gasps, tearing his mouth from his mother’s to gulp air. His head thrashes side to side, his green curls plastered to his forehead. “It’s too—it’s so deep—”

“It’s exactly what you need,” Katsuki snarls, wrapping a thick arm around Izuku’s chest to haul him back onto his cock. He can feel the frantic flutter of his son’s heart under his palm. “You’re fucking made for this. Made to take me.” He leans down, his lips against Izuku’s ear. “Made to carry my baby.”

Inko whimpers, her own arousal a slick, shameful heat she grinds against her son’s thigh. She finds his mouth again, her tongue pushing past his lips, seeking absolution in the shared taste of ruin. Her hands slide down, cupping the heavy swell of his belly, feeling the firm, round proof of everything that’s broken and remade them.

“Look at your mom,” Katsuki commands, his pace never slowing. The wet sound of their joining is obscenely loud. “She can’t get enough. Licking your tears. Sucking on your tongue. You’re her good boy, aren’t you?”

Izuku’s eyes, glazed and unfocused, manage to find his mother’s. He nods, a frantic little jerk of his chin. “Mommy,” he sobs, the word distorted against her lips.

“That’s right,” Katsuki growls. He shifts his angle, driving up, and Izuku shrieks, his back arching impossibly. “She loves seeing you full of me. Loves knowing my seed’s already growing in you. You think she wants her turn?”

Inko moans, a broken sound of pure need. Her hips stutter against Izuku’s leg. She doesn’t deny it. She can’t.

Katsuki’s laugh is dark, triumphant. “You’re both mine. My wife. My son. My fucking perfect, filthy family.” His thrusts become shorter, harder, aimed with predatory precision. Izuku’s cries pitch higher, his body tightening like a bowstring. “You gonna come? Gonna squirt all over your daddy’s cock while your mom watches?”

Izuku’s scream cut off with a wet, choked gasp. His body went rigid between them, his back arching away from Katsuki’s chest. A warm, sudden flood gushed between his thighs, soaking the living room floor beneath him, distinct from the slick of his arousal. The rhythmic slapping of skin on skin stopped.

“Daddy—” Izuku panted, his voice thin with panic. “Something’s—it’s—”

Katsuki froze, his cock still buried deep. He knew. The smell, the sudden volume of fluid. He pulled out slowly, a slick, obscene sound in the sudden quiet. “Fuck.”

Inko jerked back from her son’s mouth, her eyes wide. “Izuku?”

“Don’t stop,” Izuku whimpered, his voice a thin, desperate thread. He arched his back, trying to recapture the friction. “Daddy, please, it feels too good, don’t stop—”

Katsuki’s hand, still splayed over his son’s heart, pressed down. “Shut up.” His voice was a low rumble against Izuku’s neck. “Your water just broke. You feel that?”

Izuku’s body seized again, a deep, internal clenching that had nothing to do with pleasure. A low groan tore from his throat, his fingers scrabbling at the wet floor. The pain was a hot, tightening band around his lower belly, but beneath it, a treacherous, slick heat still pulsed where his father had just been.

“Breathe,” Katsuki ordered, his voice stripped of its earlier frenzy. He didn’t move his hand from Izuku’s chest. His other hand slid down, palm flattening over the taut, wet skin of Izuku’s lower stomach. He could feel the muscle hardening under his touch, a fist clenching deep inside his son. “That’s a contraction. You feel that?”

“It hurts,” Izuku whimpered, his hips giving a shallow, involuntary roll. The movement rubbed his swollen, sensitive clit against the slick mess of the floor and his own release. A sharp gasp hitched in his throat, his eyes flying open. “Daddy—it hurts but it—it still feels—”

“I know,” Katsuki said, his voice a dark rumble. His thumb began to move in slow, deliberate circles just above Izuku’s pubic bone, applying a firm, knowing pressure. “Your body doesn’t know the difference. Pain, pleasure, it’s all just sensation for a greedy little thing like you.”

Inko was frozen, her hands still on Izuku’s belly. She felt the next contraction begin before she saw it, the muscle under her palms turning to stone. “Katsuki, we need to call an ambulance. He needs to go to the hospital.”

“No.” The word was absolute. Katsuki didn’t look at her. His eyes were on Izuku’s face, watching the play of agony and confused arousal. “We’re not involving anyone else. You’re a nurse. You’ve delivered babies.”

“In a sterile ward! With equipment! Not on my living room floor after you’ve been—”

“You’ll manage,” Katsuki cut her off. His circling thumb dipped lower, brushing through the wet, curly hair. Izuku jerked, a broken sound escaping him. “See? He’s not ready to stop. The pain’s just making him hotter.”

“Please,” Izuku sobbed, his back arching as the contraction peaked. His hand flew down, grabbing his father’s wrist, not to push him away but to hold him there. “Don’t stop touching me, it helps, it—oh god—”

Katsuki’s fingers parted him, finding his soaked, swollen opening. He pushed two fingers inside, just to the first knuckle. Izuku screamed, but it was a scream of relief, his body surging up onto the intrusion. The channel was impossibly tight, clenched in the grip of the contraction, but dripping wet. “Fuck,” Katsuki breathed, his own cock twitching against Izuku’s thigh. “You’re still dripping for me. Even now.”

“He’s in labor, you animal!” Inko cried, but her eyes were locked on where her husband’s fingers disappeared into their son.

“And he’s begging for it,” Katsuki growled. He curled his fingers, a slow, deliberate stroke against the front wall. Izuku’s entire body convulsed, a fresh gush of fluid—clear this time—soaking Katsuki’s hand. “Tell her. Tell your mom what you want.”

Izuku’s head thrashed side to side, tears and his father’s cum streaking his cheeks. “I want you,” he choked out. “I want your cock, Daddy, please, I need it—it hurts less when you’re in me—”

Inko made a sound like she’d been punched. She stared at her son’s wrecked, honest face. The truth of it was worse than any violation.

Katsuki withdrew his fingers, slick and shining in the low light. He brought them to Izuku’s mouth. “Suck.” Izuku’s lips closed around them obediently, his tongue lapping at the taste of his own body, his labor, and his father. Katsuki watched, his red eyes burning. “You’ll get it. When he’s out. I’ll fill you up again so deep you’ll forget you ever pushed anything out.” He looked at Inko, his gaze challenging. “Get towels. Hot water. Now.”

The command broke her paralysis. She stumbled to her feet, her body trembling as she hurried toward the hallway, leaving them on the floor—father and son, bound by pain and a need that looked like love.

“Daddy, please, I need it,” Izuku sobs, his body writhing on the wet floor as another contraction seizes him. His hands claw at Katsuki’s forearms. “Put it back in, please, it hurts so much more when you’re not there—”

Katsuki’s jaw is a hard line. He doesn’t move to comply, just keeps his palm pressed firmly over Izuku’s lower belly, feeling the muscles knot and release. “You’re pushing a baby out, brat. It’s supposed to hurt.”

“I don’t care!” Izuku screams, his head thrashing back. Tears stream from the corners of his eyes, cutting through the drying streaks of his father’s release. “I need your cock, I need you to fuck me through it, please, Daddy, I’m begging—”

Inko stumbles back into the room, her arms laden with towels and a basin of steaming water. The raw, desperate plea from her son makes her freeze in the doorway, the basin sloshing.

“He’s delirious,” she says, her voice trembling. “Katsuki, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“The fuck he doesn’t,” Katsuki growls, his red eyes never leaving Izuku’s face. He shifts his weight, his own thick, heavy cock lying against Izuku’s thigh, still wet and half-hard. “He knows exactly what he wants. Always has.” He leans down, his mouth close to Izuku’s ear. “Tell her again. Tell your mommy what you need.”

Izuku’s green eyes, wide with pain and a frantic, glittering need, find his mother’s. “I need Daddy inside me,” he chokes out, each word a gasp. “It’s the only thing that helps. It makes the pain… good. Please, Mommy, tell him to give it to me.”

Inko makes a wounded sound. The towels slip from her grasp, pooling at her feet. She stares at her son, at the honest, shameless begging on his face, and something in her finally breaks. Her own arousal, a slick, persistent heat between her thighs, throbs in time with his pleas.

“You can’t,” she whispers, but it’s not a protest. It’s a confession. “Not while he’s… the baby—”

“The baby’s coming whether I’m in him or not,” Katsuki says, his voice low and certain. His thumb strokes the damp skin of Izuku’s belly. “His body’s opening up right now. Stretching. It’ll take me easier than ever.” He finally looks at Inko, a challenge in his gaze. “Set up the towels. Get behind him, support his back. You’re going to help deliver your grandchild. And you’re going to watch while I give my son exactly what he’s asking for.”

Inko moves on numb legs. She spreads the towels beneath Izuku’s hips, her nurse’s hands moving on autopilot. She kneels, sliding behind him, cradling his head and shoulders against her chest. He’s burning up, his skin slick with sweat. She feels the next contraction build within him, a terrifying wave of tension that makes him cry out and arch against her.

“Now, Daddy, now!” Izuku shrieks, his fingers digging into Katsuki’s wrists hard enough to leave marks.

Katsuki moves. He grips Izuku’s thighs, pushing them apart wider, exposing him completely. The sight is obscene: swollen, dripping, and clenched tight around nothing. He positions himself, the broad, flushed head of his cock nudging against the soaked, straining opening. “You want it? Take it.”

He pushes forward, a slow, relentless invasion. Izuku screams, a raw sound of agony and profound relief. His body yields, stretching around the massive intrusion even as it convulses with labor. Katsuki sinks deeper, a low groan tearing from his own throat at the impossible, clenching heat. “Fuck. That’s it. You’re taking it all, you perfect fucking thing.”

Inko watches, hypnotized, as her husband disappears into her son. Her arms tighten around Izuku, her own breath coming in short, sharp pants. She can feel every inch of the penetration through the body pressed against her.

“Yes,” Izuku whimpers, his body going slack for a moment as the contraction passes. He’s full, so completely full, the deep, stretching ache overshadowing the cramping in his belly. “Daddy… more. Don’t stop.”

Katsuki begins to move, shallow, grinding thrusts that don’t pull out far. The wet sound is different now, mixed with the fluid still leaking from Izuku. He leans over him, his face inches from Inko’s. “See? He’s quiet now. He’s getting what he needs.”

Another contraction hits. Izuku’s back arches, a guttural moan ripped from his throat as pain and pleasure collide. His inner muscles clamp down viscously around Katsuki’s cock. Katsuki curses, his hips stuttering. “Fuck, he’s milking me. He’s pushing the baby out and trying to suck me dry at the same time.”

Katsuki drives into him, a hard, deep thrust that punches the air from Izuku’s lungs. He sets a brutal, punishing rhythm, each slam of his hips meeting the clenching vise of Izuku’s laboring body. “That’s it,” he grunts, sweat dripping from his chin onto Izuku’s heaving chest. “Take it. Let it make the pain good.”

Izuku sobs, his head falling back against his mother’s shoulder. His hands scramble, finding Katsuki’s forearms and holding on like anchors. “Daddy—yes—right there, it’s—oh god—”

“I can feel it,” Katsuki breathes, his rhythm faltering for a second, his red eyes widening with a dark, awed hunger. “Your cervix. It’s opening up around the head of my cock. Fuck, I’m inside it.”

Inko whimpers, her arms locked around her son. She can feel the powerful thrusts through his body, can see the obscene, wet slide where they’re joined. Her own thighs are slick.

“Cum,” Izuku begs, his voice a shattered whisper. “Please, Daddy, fill me up, I need it—”

Katsuki’s control snaps. With a raw, guttural roar, he buries himself to the hilt and lets go. His release is a violent pulse, hot and deep, triggering a chain reaction inside Izuku. Izuku’s back arches off the floor, a scream tearing from his throat as his own climax rips through him—a gushing, soaking squirt that mixes with the fluids already pooling on the towels beneath them.

The sensation of the hot rush inside him, combined with the overwhelming pressure in his pelvis, makes Izuku’s eyes fly open. “It’s coming,” he gasps, panic cutting through the haze. “The baby—it’s coming right now!”

Katsuki pulls out of him in one swift, wet motion. He moves with a coach’s efficiency, kneeling between Izuku’s spread legs, his hands already positioned. “Okay. Now you push. You hear me? Push when the next one hits.”

“I can’t,” Izuku cries, his body trembling violently. “It hurts too much, I can’t—”

“You can.” Inko’s voice is suddenly there, firm and clear, the nurse overriding the mother. She shifts her grip, supporting Izuku more firmly. “Look at me, baby. Look at me. Breathe. Then push with everything you have.”

Izuku’s green eyes, wide with terror, find his mother’s. He nods, a jerky, desperate motion. Another contraction seizes him, a tidal wave of pure pressure. He bears down with a strangled scream, his face flushing crimson.

“Good,” Katsuki barks, his gaze fixed intently between his son’s thighs. “I see the head. More. Give me more, Izuku.”

Izuku sobs, pushing again, his knuckles white where he grips his own knees. Katsuki’s hands are there, steady, ready. “That’s it. Stop pushing for a second—just pant. Good. Now again. Now!”

With one final, agonized scream, Izuku pushes. A small, slick body slides into Katsuki’s waiting hands. There’s a moment of absolute silence, broken by a thin, indignant wail.

Katsuki stares at the tiny, blood-smeared infant in his palms. His son’s son. His breath catches. He carefully cradles the baby, his massive hands impossibly gentle. “It’s a boy,” he says, his voice rough.

Inko is crying silently, tears streaming down her face as she watches her husband lift her grandson. Izuku collapses back against her, utterly spent, his chest heaving. “Is he okay?” he whispers, his voice raw.

“He’s perfect,” Katsuki says, his red eyes lifting to meet Izuku’s. He doesn’t look away as he brings the crying baby to rest on Izuku’s bare, trembling stomach. “Just like his mom.”

The newborn’s thin, furious cries fill the silent living room. Izuku stares down at the tiny, blood-smeared body trembling on his stomach, his own breath hitching in ragged sync. He doesn’t reach for him. His arms feel like lead.

“Take him,” Inko whispers, her voice cracked. Her hands, still locked around Izuku’s shoulders, are shaking. “Izuku, hold your son.”

“I can’t,” Izuku breathes, his green eyes wide with a terror that has nothing to do with labor. “He’s… he’s so small.”

Katsuki hasn’t moved. He kneels between Izuku’s spread legs, his red eyes fixed on the baby, then lifting to Izuku’s face. His own cock, slick and spent, lies heavy against his thigh. “You can.” His command is quiet, but it cuts through the baby’s wails. “He’s yours. Pick him up.”

Izuku’s hands lift, trembling violently. They hover over the tiny form, afraid to touch. Inko shifts, helping to guide one shaking hand beneath the baby’s head, the other under his back. The moment Izuku’s skin makes contact, a choked sob escapes him. He lifts the baby, cradling him against his own sweaty, trembling chest. The crying softens to a fussy whimper.

“See?” Katsuki says. He doesn’t smile, but something in his face softens, just at the edges. “Natural.”

Inko watches them, her heart a bruise in her chest. Her husband, naked and glistening. Her son, equally bare, holding the child he just birthed. The three of them are a tangled, bloody, perfect unit. She feels like a ghost at the edge of the frame.

“The cord,” she says, her nurse’s training surfacing through the haze. “We need to clamp and cut it.”

“Get what we need,” Katsuki says, not looking at her. His gaze is locked on Izuku and the baby.

Inko moves on stiff limbs, fetching the sterile kit she’d prepared days ago, a secret hope she’d never admitted needing. She returns, her movements clinical, efficient. She clamps the pulsing cord in two places. She holds out the scissors to Katsuki. “You should.”

He takes them. His big hand engulfs the instrument. He doesn’t hesitate. The clean snip is final. A physical separation that changes nothing.

“Now the afterbirth,” Inko murmurs, her eyes on Izuku’s exhausted face. “It’ll be another contraction, sweetheart. You need to push one more time.”

Izuku nods, his focus entirely on the baby in his arms. He bears down with a tired grunt, and Katsuki is there again, catching the messy, final release onto a fresh towel. Inko cleans Izuku quickly, gently, her touch as professional as she can make it. The intimacy of the act is staggering.

When she’s done, Katsuki stands. He looks down at the three of them—Izuku on the floor, the baby at his chest, Inko kneeling beside them. “Bedroom. Now.”

“Katsuki, he just gave birth,” Inko starts, but the protest is weak.

“And he’s shaking. He needs to be warm. We all do.” He reaches down, his movements surprisingly careful. He slides one arm under Izuku’s knees, the other behind his back, lifting him and the baby together as if they weigh nothing. “Bring the towels. The blankets.”

Inko follows, gathering things with numb hands. She trails them into the master bedroom. The air is cool, the silk sheets a stark contrast to the living room floor. Katsuki lays Izuku in the center of the massive bed, arranging pillows behind him. He takes the baby from Izuku’s trembling arms just long enough for Inko to help slide a soft blanket around Izuku’s shoulders.

“Give him back,” Izuku whispers, his hands already reaching.

Katsuki places the baby, now quietly alert, back onto Izuku’s chest. The infant nuzzles instinctively against his skin. Izuku’s breath hitches again, a fresh wave of tears spilling over.

Katsuki watches, his jaw tight. He finally moves, climbing onto the bed beside Izuku. He doesn’t lie down. He sits propped against the headboard, his thigh pressed against Izuku’s hip. He looks at Inko, still standing by the foot of the bed. “Get in.”

Inko hesitates. The bed feels like a threshold. Crossing it means accepting everything that just happened. Everything that will happen.

“Now,” Katsuki says, his voice low.

She climbs in on Izuku’s other side, lying on her side to face him and the baby. The bed is enormous, but they are all in the center, a tight knot. The only sounds are their mingled breaths.

“This,” Katsuki says after a long silence. His hand comes up, his fingers brushing a sweaty curl from Izuku’s forehead. “This is how it’s supposed to be.”

Izuku looks up at him, his green eyes luminous. “Daddy.”

“Yeah.” Katsuki’s thumb strokes his temple. “My perfect boy. Gave me a perfect grandson.” His red eyes shift to Inko. “Our grandson.”

Inko feels the words like a brand. An inclusion that is also a sentence. She reaches out, her fingers gently tracing the baby’s downy head. “He has your hair,” she whispers.

“Of course he does,” Katsuki says. His other hand finds Inko’s hip under the sheets, pulling her closer until her body is spooned against Izuku’s side. They are all connected now, a chain of heat and skin.

Izuku’s eyes drift closed, exhaustion finally claiming him. Inko watches them, her mind a silent scream of wrongwrongwrong that is being steadily drowned out by the profound, terrifying rightness of their shared warmth. Katsuki’s hand on her hip is heavy. Final.

“No one leaves this bed,” Katsuki murmurs, his voice a low vibration in the dark. “This is our family now.”

And in the quiet, with his son and his grandson sleeping against him and his wife held fast in his grip, Katsuki Bakugou allows himself a single, unguarded moment. He lets his head fall back, closes his eyes, and breathes. It is, at last, perfect.