Izuku stood at the stove, humming something formless, the morning light cutting through the dusty kitchen window and falling directly across the curve of his belly. He'd stolen one of Katsuki's old flannels from the hook by the door—unbuttoned, hanging open, the fabric barely brushing the swell of his eight-month pregnant belly. Below it, nothing but a pair of tiny cotton shorts that rode low on his hips. He felt the shift in the room before he heard it: the creak of the floorboards, the sudden stillness in the air. He turned.
Katsuki stood in the doorway, dressed. Not in the worn robe that had hung off him like a flag of surrender for months, but in dark jeans that hugged his thick thighs and a black t-shirt stretched tight across his chest. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, and his eyes—those fierce crimson eyes—were fixed on the round swell of Izuku's belly like it was the only goddamn thing in the room. Izuku felt heat crawl up his neck. He also saw the unmistakable strain in Katsuki's jeans.
"Mornin'," Izuku said, voice lighter than he intended.
"Mornin'." Katsuki's voice was gravel. He didn't move from the doorway. His gaze traveled slowly up from Izuku's belly, over the open flannel, past the swell of his tits, to his eyes. "You tryin' to make me late for chores?"
Izuku bit his lip, letting his hand fall to rest on his stomach. "I'm just making breakfast."
"Bullshit." Katsuki crossed the kitchen in three long strides. His hands found Izuku's hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin above the waistband of his shorts. He didn't kiss him—not yet. He just looked down, at the space between them, at the belly pressing against his own flat stomach. "Every morning. You do this every fuckin' morning."
"Do what?"
"Stand there. Look like *this*." Katsuki's voice cracked, just slightly. "Like the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Carrying my kid." He dropped to his knees. It was still a shock, every time—this proud, gruff man dropping to his knees like it was holy ground. He pressed his mouth to the curve of Izuku's belly, lips moving against the stretched skin. "Fuck, I love you. I love you both."
Izuku's throat tightened. His fingers found Katsuki's ash-blond hair, threading through the spikes. "Papa—"
"Don't move." Katsuki's hands slid down, hooking into the waistband of Izuku's shorts and pulling them down his thighs. The cool air hit his wet cunt, and he gasped. Katsuki looked up, eyes dark. "You're already soaked. Just from me lookin' at you."
"I can't help it," Izuku whispered. "Every time you look at me like that... like I'm something precious."
"You *are* something precious." Katsuki stood, unbuckling his belt with rough, impatient movements. His cock sprang free, thick and uncut, the head already glistening. He kicked Izuku's shorts the rest of the way off, then lifted him onto the counter in one smooth motion. The ceramic edge bit into Izuku's thighs, but he didn't care. He spread his legs, the curve of his belly rising between them, and watched Katsuki stroke himself once, twice, before stepping into the V of his thighs.
Katsuki didn't push in. Instead, he drew back, the head of his cock dragging wet across Izuku's slick folds, and then he slapped it—a heavy, deliberate smack against Izuku's cunt. The sound cracked through the kitchen, sharp and wet, and Izuku gasped, his hips jerking forward. Katsuki did it again, the thick shaft landing flush against his swollen lips, and this time he let it rest there, pressing down, grinding the weight of his cock against Izuku's aching clit.
"Papa—" Izuku's voice came out thin, almost a whine. His hands gripped the counter edge, knuckles white.
"Shh." Katsuki's thumb found Izuku's t-dick, the hard little bud that had grown so thick and sensitive since he started HRT, and he rubbed the head of his cock against it—back and forth, back and forth, a slow, torturous flick. "You have no idea how fuckin' sexy you are like this. Pregnant. Slick. Begging."
Izuku's breath stuttered. The sensation was too much and not enough, the rough slide of foreskin against his most sensitive spot, the pressure building in his belly, the weight of his own pregnancy pressing down on his bladder. "Please, I need you inside—"
"I know what you need." Katsuki kept up the rhythm, his cock sliding against Izuku's clit with a wet, sticky sound, the head catching and dragging, catching and dragging. "But I wanna watch you fall apart first. I wanna feel you squirt all over me before I fill you up."
Izuku's thighs trembled. The heat was coiling low and tight, that familiar pressure building behind his clit, and he could feel the first flutter of his orgasm threatening to break. "That's not fair, you're teasing me—"
"Fair?" Katsuki's voice was rough, almost a growl. He flicked his cock faster, rubbing the ridge of his glans directly over Izuku's clit, and Izuku cried out, his back arching. "Nothin' fair about how beautiful you are. How wet you get for me. How your little dick twitches every time I look at you."
Izuku's orgasm hit him like a wave—sudden and violent, ripping through his core and clenching his inner muscles hard around nothing. He squirted, a hot gush of fluid that sprayed across Katsuki's cock and belly, dripping down his thighs and onto the counter. He gasped, shaking, tears pricking at his eyes as the pleasure rolled through him. "Papa—Papa, I'm sorry, I couldn't hold it—"
"Don't you dare apologize." Katsuki leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Izuku's, their breath mingling. His cock was still pressed against Izuku's dripping cunt, slick and ready. "That was perfect. You're perfect. Now I'm gonna fuck you, and you're gonna come again, and I'm gonna fill you so full."
Izuku nodded, dizzy and aching, his legs spreading wider. "Yes. Please, Papa. Fuck me."
Katsuki's cock head pressed against Izuku's slick entrance—that thick, flared ridge of uncut flesh—and then he pushed. Just the tip. Just enough to stretch the first ring of muscle, to feel the heat of Izuku's cunt gripping him like a mouth. And then he pulled back out.
Izuku's breath caught, his hips chasing the retreat. "Papa—"
"Shh." Katsuki did it again—slid the head in, just past the crown, and held there, letting Izuku feel every throbbing inch of that single invasion before withdrawing. The sound it made was wet and obscene, a sticky pop as the tip dragged through his folds. "Countin' the seconds before you fall apart."
Izuku's cunt gushed. Hot fluid ran down his thighs, pooling on the counter beneath him, and he felt his own squirt splash against Katsuki's belly. "That's not—fuck, that's not fair, you're just—"
"Just the tip." Katsuki's voice was a low growl, his crimson eyes fixed on the place where their bodies met. "And you're already leakin' like a broken faucet. How easy you are this mornin', baby boy."
Izuku's pregnancy brain was melting. The hormones, the weight of his belly, the desperate ache between his legs—all of it swirled into a thick, syrupy need that made thinking impossible. "Your dick is so perfect," he babbled, his hands gripping Katsuki's shoulders. "Even just the tip—it's so fat, so thick, I can feel every vein—Papa, please, I need all of it—"
Katsuki pushed in again, deeper this time, the head popping past the tight ring of muscle and settling inside him, just barely. Izuku felt his inner walls clench around that single inch, trying to pull him deeper, and the sensation made him sob. "You're so good," Izuku whimpered, tears pricking at his eyes. "You're so good to me, Granddaddy—"
Katsuki froze. His eyes—which had been dark with hunger—widened, fixed on something above Izuku's belly. "What the—" He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing the fabric of the flannel hanging open over Izuku's chest. "You're wet."
Izuku blinked, disoriented. "What?"
Katsuki pushed the flannel aside, baring Izuku's swollen tits—the areolae dark and puffy, the nipples hard and glistening. A thin trickle of white fluid was beading at the tip of each one, catching the morning light. "You're leakin' milk," Katsuki said, his voice rough with wonder. "Your tits—fuck, you're *producing* milk."
Izuku looked down, and the sight sent a jolt of heat straight to his cunt. His breasts, full and aching, were dripping. "I didn't—I didn't know—"
"When did this start?" Katsuki's thumb brushed across one nipple, smearing the milk across the dark skin. Izuku gasped at the sensitivity, the touch sending sparks through his chest.
"Just now, I think—"
Katsuki leaned down. His mouth closed over Izuku's left nipple, and he sucked—a long, slow pull that drew the milk into his mouth. Izuku cried out, his back arching off the counter, his hands fisting in Katsuki's ash-blond hair. The sensation was electric, a direct line from his nipple to his clit, and he felt his cunt clench around what little of Katsuki’s cock was inside him.
Katsuki moaned against his skin, the vibration sending shockwaves through Izuku's chest. He pulled off, licking his lips, a thin trail of milk clinging to his stubbled jaw. "You taste," he said, voice wrecked, "like *everything*."
He dipped down again, taking the other nipple into his mouth, and Izuku sobbed, tears rolling freely down his cheeks as his grandfather drank from him.
Katsuki's mouth worked Izuku's nipple, sucking hard, drawing deep pulls of milk that flooded his tongue. His hips rolled forward—not teasing this time, not just the tip—and his cock sank into Izuku's cunt in one long, slick thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Izuku screamed, his back bowing off the counter, the stretch of that massive girth splitting him open while Katsuki's mouth never left his chest.
"Fuck—" Katsuki's voice vibrated against Izuku's skin, muffled by the flesh in his mouth. He pulled off just long enough to gasp, "You're so fuckin' tight. Your cunt's squeezin' me like it's been waitin' for this." Then he latched back onto Izuku's other nipple, drawing the milk into his mouth with a desperate, hungry pull.
Izuku's hands tangled in Katsuki's hair, holding him there, anchoring himself as his grandfather fucked him in long, deep strokes that jarred his whole body. The counter rattled beneath him, a bowl clattering to the floor and shattering, but neither of them noticed. "Papa—your mouth—it's too much—"
"Too much?" Katsuki released his nipple with a wet pop, licking the milk from his lips, his hips never stopping their relentless rhythm. His cock bottomed out inside Izuku, grinding against that deep spot that made stars burst behind his eyes. "Your milk's like liquid gold. Sweet. Warm. Fuck, I could drink you dry." He dipped down again, taking the same nipple back into his mouth, sucking harder, pulling deeper, his tongue flicking the sensitive peak.
Izuku sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, his cunt clenching rhythmically around Katsuki's cock with every pull of that mouth on his chest. There was a direct line between his nipples and his womb, a circuit of pleasure that made every suckle send a jolt straight to where he was being fucked. "I'm gonna—I'm gonna cum again—"
"Good." Katsuki's voice was rough, wrecked, the word pressed against Izuku's skin. He thrust harder, faster, his balls slapping against Izuku's ass with a wet, obscene sound. "I wanna feel you come on my cock while I drink from you. Wanna taste you from both ends."
Izuku's orgasm tore through him, violent and blinding, his cunt spasming around Katsuki's cock in wave after wave. He squirted again, hot fluid gushing around the thick shaft buried inside him, soaking Katsuki's thighs and pooling on the counter. His scream was swallowed by Katsuki's mouth as the old man kissed him, milk and spit and need mixing between them, swallowing every cry.
Katsuki broke the kiss, gasping, his forehead pressed against Izuku's. His hips never stopped moving, fucking Izuku through his orgasm, prolonging it, drawing it out until Izuku was a shaking, sobbing mess beneath him. "I'm gonna be so jealous," Katsuki said, his voice cracking. "When our son's born, he's gonna get to suck on these every day. Gonna get to taste your milk while I watch. And I'm gonna want it so bad."
"Papa—" Izuku's voice was broken, barely a whisper. His hand found Katsuki's cheek, cradling the weathered stubble. "You can have it too. Both of you. You and him."
Katsuki's eyes went dark, something raw and possessive flashing through them. He dipped down again, taking Izuku's nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, pulling deep, his hips slamming into Izuku with renewed ferocity.
Katsuki released Izuku's nipple with a wet gasp, his chest heaving, milk still glistening on his stubbled chin. "How you gonna feed me and him?" His voice was wrecked, raw, his hips never stopping that brutal rhythm. "Our son gets one tit and I get the other?" He pulled back just enough to look down at Izuku's swollen breasts, milk beading at both nipples, and a dark, possessive hunger flickered through his crimson eyes. "Because I ain't sharin', baby boy. I want my own."
Izuku sobbed, barely able to form words, his cunt clenching around that massive shaft with every desperate thrust. "Both—I got both—you can have—" He gasped as Katsuki's cock drove into him, jarring his whole body, and he felt a hot gush of milk spray from his left nipple with the impact. His eyes flew wide, watching the thin white arc catch the morning light before splattering across his own belly. "Papa—"
Katsuki's gaze locked onto the sight, his mouth falling open. "Fuckin'—" He thrust again, harder, and another stream of milk shot from Izuku's right nipple, this one longer, hitting Katsuki's chest. The old man moaned—a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through Izuku's bones—and his hips slammed forward with renewed ferocity, each stroke punching a new spurt of milk from Izuku's aching tits. "You're—fuck—squirting from both ends now—"
Izuku couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. His body wasn't his own anymore—it belonged to Katsuki, to the baby growing in his belly, to the milk flooding his chest and the cunt gripping his grandfather's cock. "I love you," he babbled, tears and drool and milk mixing on his skin. "I love you so much, Papa, don't ever stop—"
Katsuki's thrusts grew erratic, his grip on Izuku's hips bruising, his breath coming in ragged grunts. "Look at you. Full of my kid. Leakin' my milk. Takin' my cock like you were made for it." He drove in deep, grinding against that spot that made stars burst, and watched another jet of milk spray from Izuku's nipple. "I woulda cursed every angel in heaven to get back to you. If that new heart hadn't come—if I'd died on that table—I'da clawed my way outta the ground just to see you like this."
Izuku's green eyes found Katsuki's, and the sight of his grandfather—flush-cheeked, sweat-slicked, alive—hit him like a physical blow. Four months ago, this man had been dying in a hospital bed. Four months ago, Izuku had been holding his hand, waiting for the end. And now his cock was buried inside Izuku's pregnant cunt, his mouth was wet with Izuku's milk, and his heart—that new, borrowed heart—was pounding strong and steady in his chest.
Izuku wrapped his arms around Katsuki's neck, pulling him down into a deep, desperate kiss. His tongue slid against Katsuki's, and the taste of his own milk—sweet, warm, intimate—flooded his mouth. He moaned into the kiss, his hips bucking up to meet each thrust, his cunt clenching hard around Katsuki's cock. "Thank you," he whispered against Katsuki's lips, the words broken and raw. "Thank you for staying. For fighting. For—"
Katsuki swallowed the rest of the words with another kiss, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of Izuku's head, holding him close. He fucked him slow and deep now, grinding, savoring, the milk still beading and dripping from Izuku's nipples between their pressed bodies. "I ain't goin' anywhere," he growled, his forehead against Izuku's, their breath mingling. "I'm gonna watch you get bigger. Gonna hold our son. Gonna drink your milk every damn day until you dry up."
Izuku laughed—a wet, broken, beautiful sound—and pulled Katsuki into another kiss, tasting himself again, tasting the future they'd fought for. "Deal," he breathed, and felt Katsuki's smile against his mouth.
Then Katsuki's hands slid down, gripping Izuku's hips, and he lifted him off the counter like he weighed nothing. Izuku gasped, his legs wrapping instinctually around Katsuki's waist, his arms locking behind his grandfather's neck. The shift in angle drove Katsuki's cock deeper, grinding against that spot that made his vision blur, and he cried out, his nails digging into the broad shoulders beneath him. "Papa—you're so strong—"
Katsuki's laugh was rough, breathless, his forehead pressing against Izuku's as he began to move. His thighs worked beneath Izuku's weight, driving his hips up in brutal, piston-like thrusts that jarred Izuku's whole body. The counter rattled behind them, a glass tipping and shattering, but Katsuki didn't slow. "Four months ago I couldn't lift a fuckin' glass of water," he growled, his voice wrecked with exertion and want. "Now I can hold my pregnant grandbaby in the air and fuck him senseless."
Izuku sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, his cunt clenching around that massive shaft with every desperate upward drive. The milk was still leaking from his nipples, beading and dripping down his belly, mixing with the sweat and cum that coated them both. "You're so—you're—I can't—" His words dissolved into a broken moan as Katsuki's cock bottomed out, grinding against his cervix, sending stars bursting behind his eyes.
"You can," Katsuki said, his voice a low, guttural command. His hands tightened on Izuku's hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise. "You're gonna cum again for me. Right now. I wanna feel you squirt all over my cock while I'm holdin' you." He thrust harder, faster, his balls slapping against Izuku's ass with wet, obscene sounds that echoed through the kitchen. "Cum again, baby boy, and Granddaddy's gonna fill you up so full you'll be leakin' old man cum for days."
The words hit Izuku like a physical blow, a direct line to the desperate, aching need coiled in his gut. "Yes—yes, Papa, please—I'm—" His orgasm tore through him, violent and blinding, his cunt spasming around Katsuki's cock in wave after wave. Hot fluid gushed from him, soaking Katsuki's thighs, splattering on the floor, a torrent of release that seemed to go on forever. His scream was raw, broken, his body arching in Katsuki's grip as the pleasure ripped through him.
Katsuki moaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through Izuku's chest, and his thrusts grew erratic, desperate. "That's it—fuck, that's my good boy—" He drove in deep, grinding against Izuku's clenching walls, and Izuku felt the first hot pulse of cum flooding his cunt. Katsuki came with a roar, his hips slamming forward, his cock emptying thick, viscous streams of seed into Izuku's already-full womb. The cum overflowed immediately, slick and warm, running down Izuku's thighs and dripping onto the floor in steady streams.
Izuku felt the cum leaking around Katsuki's cock, felt it sliding down his ass, heard it hitting the tile in soft, wet drops. The sensation was overwhelming, too much, exactly what he needed. He sobbed, his forehead falling against Katsuki's, his breath coming in ragged, broken gasps. "Thank you—thank you—"
Katsuki held him there, still buried deep, still pulsing inside him, their bodies trembling together. The kitchen was a wreck—shattered glass, spilled milk, pools of cum and squirt spreading across the floor. The morning sun streamed through the window, catching the mess and making it glisten. Katsuki's arms were shaking from the effort of holding Izuku, but he didn't let go.
Izuku looked down at the puddle forming beneath them—his cum, his milk, Katsuki's seed, all mixing together on the farmhouse tile. The sight made his cunt clench again, a reflexive pulse that drew a fresh moan from Katsuki.
"Papa?" Izuku's voice came out broken, raw, his throat still tight from crying and screaming. He felt Katsuki's cock softening inside him, felt the cum still leaking down his thighs, and somehow—impossibly—he wanted more. "D'you wanna—can we keep going?"
Katsuki's crimson eyes went dark, a slow smirk spreading across his weathered face. His chest was still heaving, milk glistening on his stubbled jaw, sweat dripping down his neck. "Keep goin'?" He shifted his grip on Izuku's hips, pulling out with a wet sound that made them both gasp. "Baby boy, I was just warmin' up." He carried Izuku across the kitchen, stepping through the puddles of cum and squirt and spilled milk, and laid him out on the cool granite of the kitchen island. "Let's see how much more we can fuck up this kitchen."
The stone was cold against Izuku's back, a shock of sensation that made him arch, his pregnant belly rising like a perfect curve between them. Katsuki stood between his spread thighs, looking down at him—at the mess they'd made, at the cum still dripping from Izuku's cunt, at the milk beading on his swollen tits—and the hunger in those crimson eyes was absolute. "You ready for me to really fuck you, baby boy?"
Izuku nodded, his hands reaching up, grasping, begging. "Yes—Papa, please—I need—" The words died in his throat as Katsuki lined up his cock—still hard, still thick, still glistening with their combined release—and pushed back inside in one brutal, driving thrust. Izuku screamed, his back bowing off the island, the stretch overwhelming, too much, exactly what he needed. "Fuck—!"
Katsuki wasn't gentle this time in the slightest. He fucked like a man possessed, his hips slamming forward with a violence that shook the island, rattled the pots hanging from the rack above them. Each thrust drove Izuku's body up the granite, his head nearly hitting the far edge before Katsuki's hands caught his hips and yanked him back down onto his cock. The sound was obscene—wet slaps and squelching flesh, Izuku's desperate moans mixing with Katsuki's guttural grunts. "This what you wanted, baby boy? This what you needed?"
Izuku couldn't answer. Couldn't form words. His mind was dissolving, melting, pouring out of his ears with every brutal thrust. Somewhere in the back of his thoughts, a faint whisper surfaced—*too hard, the baby, too violent*—but he crushed it immediately, a laugh bubbling up through his moans. *Stupid. So stupid.* The baby was safe, cushioned, loved. This wasn't hurting anyone. This was *living*. This was Katsuki alive and strong and *his*. He let the thought go, let it dissolve into the pleasure, and opened himself completely to the fucking.
"That's it," Katsuki growled, his voice wrecked, his hands bruising on Izuku's hips. "I can feel you thinkin', baby boy. Stop it. Just feel." He drove in deep, grinding against that spot that made stars burst, and watched Izuku's eyes roll back. "Let go. I got you. I got our baby. Just *feel*."
Izuku's body obeyed before his mind could catch up. His cunt clenched hard around Katsuki's cock, a rhythmless, desperate grip that matched the brutal pace of the fucking. His hands found his own belly, cradling the swell, feeling the weight of their son nestled safe inside as his grandfather drove into him again and again. "I'm—Papa—I'm gonna—" His voice broke, dissolved into a sob, and his orgasm ripped through him like a wave, violent and total. His cunt spasmed, hot fluid gushing around Katsuki's cock, soaking the island, dripping onto the floor in steady streams. He squirted and squirted, his body emptying itself of everything except pleasure, and he heard himself babbling—"love you love you love you"—over and over like a prayer.
Katsuki followed a heartbeat later, his hips slamming forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock emptied thick, hot streams of cum into Izuku's already flooding cunt. He roared, his head thrown back, his grip on Izuku's hips so tight it would leave bruises. When he finally stilled, panting, trembling, he looked down at the wreckage beneath him—Izuku's milk-streaked chest, his cum-drenched thighs, his belly coated in both their releases—and a broken, reverent sound escaped his throat. "Fuck, baby boy. I really fucked you up."
Izuku laughed, a wet, broken, beautiful sound, and pulled Katsuki down into a kiss. Their mouths met, sloppy and desperate, tasting of milk and sweat and tears. The kitchen was destroyed—broken glass, shattered bowls, pools of cum and squirt and milk spreading across every surface. And in the middle of it all, Izuku lay pinned beneath his grandfather, his grandfather's cock still buried deep inside him, the steady *lub-dub* of that new heart pounding against his chest through the skin and muscle and bone. "Good," Izuku whispered against Katsuki's lips. "Keep fucking me up."
The kitchen door swung open, and Eijiro's voice carried in before he rounded the corner—"Hey, old man, your phone's been blowin'—" Then he stopped. Mid-stride. His jaw literally dropped, his red eyes sweeping over the wreckage: the shattered glass, the overturned bowls, the pools of cum and milk and squirt spreading across the tile like some kind of disaster scene. Izuku lay sprawled on the kitchen island, naked and gleaming, Katsuki still buried inside him, both of them frozen like deer in headlights.
Eijiro blinked. Once. Twice. Then a snort escaped him, and before he could stop it, he was doubled over, howling with laughter—deep, belly-shaking laughs that echoed off the ruined walls. "Holy shit!" he wheezed, bracing himself against the doorframe. "I knew you two were fuckin' wild, but this—" He gestured helplessly at the mess, tears streaming down his face. "This is a crime scene!"
Izuku felt his face burn, the heat crawling up his neck and spreading across his freckled cheeks. He wanted to be embarrassed—he *should* have been embarrassed—but Eijiro's laughter was so genuine, so infectious, that a snicker bubbled up from his chest instead. He buried his face in his hands, still impaled on Katsuki's softening cock, and laughed against his palms. "It's not *that* bad," he mumbled, though the puddle spreading beneath the island said otherwise.
Katsuki snorted, not bothering to pull out. His chest was still heaving, milk and sweat glistening on his stubbled jaw, and he looked down at Izuku with a dark, possessive amusement. "The hell you laughin' at, Kirishima?" he growled, but there was no heat in it. "You've seen us fuck before."
Eijiro straightened, wiping his eyes, his grin so wide it split his face. "Yeah, but I ain't ever seen you *destroy a whole kitchen* doin' it." He stepped forward, careful to avoid a puddle of what was definitely squirt, and shook his head in disbelief. "You two are worse than hormonal teenagers, I swear."
Katsuki's smirk sharpened. He shifted his hips, a slow grind that made Izuku gasp, and fixed Eijiro with a pointed look. "One of us *is* a hormonal teenager." He glanced down at Izuku, then back at Eijiro, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Eighteen and pregnant. That's basically a biological emergency."
Izuku's face somehow burned hotter. He smacked Katsuki's chest—hard, a wet slap against the sweat-slicked muscle—and scowled up at him through his lashes. "You're hornier than me! You're the one who can't keep his hands off me."
Katsuki caught his wrist, brought his knuckles to his lips, and kissed them with infuriating gentleness. "Damn right I can't."
Eijiro laughed again, softer this time, and turned toward the utility closet. "I'll grab the mop." He paused at the door, glancing back at them—still tangled, still connected, still glowing with spent lust—and his expression softened. "Y'know, it's good to see you like this, old man. Alive. Happy." He jerked his chin at the mess. "Even if you're wreckin' the place."
Katsuki didn't answer, but his grip on Izuku's hip tightened, and something vulnerable flickered in his crimson eyes.
Eijiro leaned against the doorframe, mop in hand, his grin softening into something genuine as he watched them untangle. "I'll get this cleaned up. Tetsu's been itchin' to show you two what we finished today." He jerked his head toward the hallway, a strange brightness in his red eyes. "The nursery."
Izuku's heart squeezed, a tight, aching pulse that had nothing to do with the cum still leaking down his thighs or the soreness settling into his bones. He'd heard them working for weeks—the hammering, the low laughter, the muffled arguments about paint colors—but he'd never pushed. He wanted it to be a surprise, a gift he didn't have to earn. "Really?" His voice cracked, raw from screaming, and he felt Katsuki's arms tighten around him, the steady lub-dub of the new heart pressing against his back. "Papa, can we—can I see it now?"
Katsuki didn't answer with words. He just pulled out slowly—Izuku winced at the sudden emptiness, felt the warm gush of trapped seed sliding down his thighs—and scooped him up, carrying him bridal-style through the wrecked kitchen. "Fuckin' ruined this place," he muttered, stepping over a puddle of milk and cum. His cock was still half-hard, glistening, smearing against Izuku's hip as he walked. "Good thing we got a reason to celebrate."
The door at the end of the hall was open, afternoon light pooling across the floorboards. When Katsuki stepped through, Izuku's breath caught in his throat. The walls were a soft, warm cream, painted floor-to-ceiling with a mural of towering trees and winding rivers, a little red fox curled under a crescent moon. The crib was dark oak, solid, hand-built—Tetsu's work, clearly, the joints precise and strong. A rocking chair sat in the corner with a hand-knitted yellow blanket draped over the arm, and beside it, Tetsutetsu stood adjusting a mobile of paper cranes, a smudge of grey paint across his cheek. He turned when they entered, his sharp red eyes going soft. "Took you two long enough."
Izuku's vision blurred. He buried his face in Katsuki's neck, sobbing openly, his shoulders shaking as the baby kicked—hard, right against his ribs, as if responding to the love flooding the room. Eijiro appeared behind them, wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulders, and Tetsutetsu's gruff voice came out thick with emotion. "Told you he'd cry."
Izuku laughed through the tears, the sound wet and broken, and felt Katsuki's lips press against his temple, felt his grandfather's hand slide down to rest over the spot where their son was moving, where the future was already kicking to be let in.