Work Text:
It started out as a flicker.
A passing thought really. Hell, it was barely anything other than a small idea in the back of his mind. Surely nothing that would rear its ugly head while they were backpacking of all things.
They had been out on the trail going on four days now. Deep in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but sky, trees, and miles of unforgiving terrain. Their packs were nearly the size of grown men and loaded down with gear, food rations, and water filtration kits. They had done this before, more than once. Pushed themselves up inclines that had their thighs burning, crossed streams with boots slung over their shoulders, endured hours of hiking under the weight of their own preparation. This is what they did. What they loved.
And if they got to fuck each other stupid out in the open in between setting up camp and breaking it down again, well that was just a perk.
“Ah! Fuck. Fuck! Put it back in. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. Want you inside.”
There was no one around for miles. No walls, no neighbors, no reason to keep quiet. Out here, Katsuki could moan as loud as he wanted. Could growl Eijirou’s name into the dirt and the trees and sky wouldn’t give them a second thought.
“Just like that, baby boy. Take it just like that.”
Maybe that’s why the thought lingered. Why it had dug in deep, lodged itself into the core of Eijirou’s brain, and refused to let go. He wasn’t really the type to overthink sex. He can’t lie. It came to him easily. Sex was natural. Instinctual. His mind wouldn’t wander. Especially not with Katsuki, the two of them fit together like a second skin. It had never been complicated or confusing or dangerous. At least it wasn’t supposed to be.
But Katsuki was beneath him now, writhing, gasping, clawing at him, dragging him deeper with every rough sweat-slicked roll of his hips. His face was flushed, his breath hitching on every sharp exhale, and the noises spilling out of him and— fuck.
Somewhere between the press of Katsuki’s body beneath him, the gravel biting into his palms through the bottom of the tent, and the fucked-out rasp of Katsuki’s breath against his skin, something must have shifted.
That Katsuki Bakugou, the love of his life, his rock, his anchor, his beautiful and handsome and manly and amazing husband had to go and say:
“Shit. Fuuuck me,” all breathlessly. “You keep going like that it might actually—”
Before cutting himself off with a groan that came from somewhere deep in his chest.
But Eijirou heard it.
Felt it.
Something inside him snapped. Something deep. Something damn near primal.
Did you just say it might actually take? Or…almost say…
Eijirou’s grip on his hips tightened before he could stop himself, fingers digging in, holding him there like he was trying to brand himself into his skin.
And fuck—maybe he was.
Eijirou’s breath hitched, his heart kicked hard against his ribs and suddenly his mind was pouring gasoline on that fire. Feeding him images he couldn’t escape from.
Images he didn’t want to escape from.
Katsuki, swollen with his kid, stretching out his hoodies. Walking around with his hands braced on his back and yelling at Eijirou for treating him like he’s fragile. Katsuki half-asleep on their couch, dozing against his chest. Soft in a way that Eijirou shouldn’t crave but he does. Katsuki, wearing Eijirou’s shirt and nothing else, belly full and round and heavy with something that they made together.
The thought burned itself into his skull like a brand. It was consuming him, tearing through him like a wildfire. Unstoppable. Undeniable. Something that had already sunken its teeth into his bones and refused to let go.
His rhythm shifted before he realized, turning it into something rougher, deeper, overtaking his movements and—
And Katsuki noticed.
His fingers twitched against the sleeping mat, his breath stuttered, his spine arched just slightly like he was trying to pull away.
“Jesus, Rou.” Katsuki gasped, voice sharp. The sound raw and wrecked and fuck, fuck fuck.
You could put a baby in him. You could do it right now.
The realization hit him like a hammer to the chest. It sent his vision reeling, his breath coming short and sharp, his grip on Katsuki tightening like he was afraid he’d wake up and this would all be a dream.
Katsuki was panting beneath him, sweat-damp and flushed. The sharp edges of his usual fire dulled into something more open, something Eijrou wanted to ruin. Something damn near soft like he always got when he was close.
He wanted to keep him.
He wanted to fill him.
His pace picked up before he even realized, muscles straining as he chased the friction. Chased the feeling of Katsuki’s gasps, his arches. Taking everything Eijirou had to give him and more. It was too much and not enough all at once. The heat curled inside his gut, tightening, building, as the slick fever-hot slide of Katsuki against him, around him, made it impossible to think. Impossible to breathe.
Their mouths crashed together in something messy and uncoordinated. Pure desperation. More need than control. Katsuki’s teeth scraped against his bottom lip, a sharp nip that sent something shuddering down Eijirou's spine. He groaned as Katsuki’s tongue flicked out, catching the sound before it could fully escape.
He didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop taking. Hands gripping at Katsuki’s hips, anchoring him in place as their bodies rocked together perfectly. The force of it sent Katsuki’s head tipping back against the sleeping mat, exposing the long line of his throat. His breath stuttered as Eijirou trailed lower and lower until he was hunched over him and rutting against him like a damn animal.
“Red, baby,” Katsuki’s voice cut through the fog, breathless and almost lilty. Voice pitching up with every thrust. “We still got twenty miles left.”
Eijirou’s body jolted, his mind snapping back into focus as he realized just how hard he was holding onto Katsuki.
How wild he’d gotten.
How he wasn’t just chasing his own pleasure shamelessly anymore, he was chasing something else entirely.
And Katsuki could tell something was different.
He wasn’t teasing, wasn’t smug, wasn’t goading him on or anything. As Eijirou stilled, Katsuki was watching him. Watching him like he was assessing something.
“Hey,” Katsuki reached out and grabbed hold of Eijrou’s chin, trailing him around like it was some kind of leash as he pulled him in closer for another kiss. “Hey, where’d you go?” He asked against his lips.
“Hm,” Eijirou managed as the blood slowly made its way back to his brain, if only for a second, as Katsuki abandoned his grip on his chin. He coasted up until he was caressing the curve of Eijirou’s jaw, his thumb ghosting along the apple of his cheek. Eijirou turned his face into the cup of Katsuki’s palm to press a kiss there and murmured. “‘M still here.”
“You sure?”
Here was an understatement. He was…floating. He was in the ether. He was mentally in their bathroom watching as Katsuki watched himself, a t-shirt pulled taut over his swollen belly, as he bitched in the mirror. A “ you did this to me” playing on his lips. “Totally.”
“Good, cause I didn’t tell you to stop,” Katsuki amended, dropping his hand back down so he could keep himself propped up on his elbows. “Just gotta use my legs after this is all.”
Eijirou forced a grin from above him, ignoring the way his whole world had just tilted sideways. Ignoring the way his chest was still tight. Ignoring the way his brain was still screaming at him to take, take, take.
He pulled back slowly, fingers easing their grip on his waist. Trying to make it seem like he was just caught in the moment and not on the verge of breaking apart at the seams.
Because if he was honest, it punched through him like a damn epiphany. Like a desperate, aching want that he hadn’t realized had been creeping up on him all this time. Cause it had been all this time. Katsuki just…woke it up. And it wasn’t just casual wanting either, not just a passing fascination. No, this was the kind of wanting that made his body burn. Made something deep in his chest clench in a way he didn’t understand.
Katsuki was still looking up at him expectantly, waiting for some kind of answer and Eijirou, who had absolutely no right to feel this wrecked about it, managed to huff out a breathy. “I can carry you.”
Katsuki made a sort of snorting sound, a laugh almost. “Your pack’s already 90.”
Eijrou grinned, brain still circling the drain of this newfound obsession while still clinging onto the conversation like a lifeline. He adjusted his grip, pulled out till he was shallow, just the tip pressed into the warmth of his hole, and felt Katsuki’s legs twitch where they were bracketing his hips. “What’s another 180?”
And then he pushed back in.
Katsuki’s mouth was open like he was ready to call him a dumbass, but was cut off by a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck—oka— Ah,” Katsuki gasped, his hips canting back to accommodate Eijirou, to bring him in closer. “Okay.”
And fuck, that did not help.
Eijirou groaned, forehead pressing against Katsuki’s shoulder like maybe, maybe it would knock some sense into him as pleasure crested.
It did not.
Instead, all he could think was mine, mine, mine, followed immediately by Katsuki, Katsuki Katsuki.
Katsuki beneath him. Katsuki tight around him. Katsuki letting him take and take and take. Not just his body, but something deeper. Something real. Something Eijrou wanted to sink his teeth into and never let go.
His mind had turned into a goddamn furnace. He felt almost feverish as his brain forged images that burned into his skull and curled hot around his ribs. Making his breath shudder. Making his fingers dig harder into Katsuki’s hips, spreading over the taut sweat-slicked skin of his stomach like he could already feel it growing.
His belly tightening under Eijirou’s palm, his hips softening, his body changing, shifting, stretching to make room for something that was made of them. Katsuki, months from now, heavier, rounder, wearing his shirts and only his shirts as he walks around the house cause nothing else fits. Scowling at himself in the mirror but letting Eijrou step up behind him and letting him slide his arms around him and letting him press his hands over the weight of him. Katsuki’s breath hitching just slightly when Eijirou pressed in. When his fingers spread wide over the undeniable swell, when he whispered worshipful nothings against the nape of his neck.
God—Eijirou needed it. Needed to see it. Needed to feel it.
And fuck—he could feel it now, could almost believe it, could almost trick himself into thinking it was real. The weight of Katsuki beneath him, the way his stomach would press against Eijirou’s own, soft and warm and his. The way Katsuki would arch into him, impatient and needy, muttering, "Just shut the fuck up and move, Ei—" but his fingers would be gripping Eijirou’s wrist, guiding his hand back over the swell of his belly, holding him there.
Like he wanted it. Like he needed it just as badly as Eijirou did.
And fuck, Eijirou wanted to give it to him.
Wanted to watch him grow, wanted to fill him up again and again and again just to make sure it took. Wanted to wake up next to him, belly full, body warm, carrying something that tied them together so inescapably that everyone who saw the two of them would know exactly who did this to him.
And fuck, fuck, fuck—
His whole body locked up, fingers digging deep into Katsuki’s hips as he buried his face into his shoulder. He was holding him still. He was holding him down as the air ripped from his lungs as his orgasm crested and slammed into him like a full-body flood. His vision blurred, his pulse staggered, and all he knew was that all consuming wet heat in the drag of his cock against Katsuki’s walls squeezing around him as he crested too. All he wanted to do was to keep him. To hold him. To fill him. His hands shook as they shifted from his waist. Fingers sat firmly in the dimples of his back while his thumbs squeezed at the edges of his stomach.
Katsuki gasped beneath him, legs locking tighter and holding Eijirou in place as his whole body shuddered on a gasp. His were always longer. Deeper. Full bodied. He arched up from the mat, their chests meeting as a loud near sob tore itself out from his throat. Rolling waves that left him spent, loose, and breathless.
And Eijirou knew, knew in his heart and soul, that he should be paying more attention to the moment. Right here. Focusing on how good Katsuki looks. How he sounds moaning around his name. But all he can think about are the hot ropes of cum pulsing into him in bursts and spilling out the sides of his abused hole.
About how he wants to sink in deeper and keep any from spilling out.
About how he wishes it would take.
Which was…totally normal.
Right?
Katsuki was breathing slowly beneath him as Eijrou still worked to catch his breath. The warmth of his skin still flushed, and undeniably intoxicating. Eijirou lingered above him, reluctant to move, reluctant to break contact. Reluctant to lose this moment even though it was already slipping away.
They’d be breaking camp soon. Packing up the tent, rolling their sleeping bags, hiking onward. Another twenty unforgiving miles to go. Yet, right then, Eijirou couldn’t seem to force himself away. Not yet.
He lowered himself slowly, pressing a careful lingering kiss to the warm slope of Katsuki’s shoulder, tasting salt and heat, feeling the subtle hitch in Katsuki’s breath beneath his mouth. Katsuki’s fingers gently combed through his hair, quiet and soothing in their own way, calming the lingering tremor still racing through Eijirou’s chest.
“Feeling better?” Katsuki murmured, voice raspy but soft.
Eijirou laughed quietly, shaking his head without lifting it from Katsuki’s skin. “Think I blacked out there for a minute, honestly.”
“Two minutes. Two separate minutes,” Katsuki scoffed softly, fingers still tracing lazy circles against Eijirou’s scalp. “Thought you were gonna break me or something.”
Eijirou’s breath stuttered, throat tightening at the casual way Katsuki said it. The thought ignited him again quick, but he forced it away as he pressed a soft kiss over the fading mark along Katsuki’s neck that he just left mere moments ago.
“Nah,” Eijirou murmured, teasing gently. “You’d kick my ass first.”
Katsuki snorted, easing his thighs apart slowly, letting Eijirou shift gently out of him. He let out a sharp breath at the sudden emptiness, fingers tightening in Eijirou’s hair, something almost vulnerable passing silently between them.
Eijirou finally rolled onto his back beside him, the cool scratchy texture of the sleeping bag acting as an anchor and bringing him back from wherever the hell his mind had gone. If only for a moment. The silence lingered, both of them staring upward at the tent’s fabric ceiling. Listening as their breaths evened out.
For now things felt normal again. Good even. But the silence wasn’t quite comfortable. Not fully. Not on Eijirou’s side of things at least, because all he could think about, all he could see, all he could fucking imagine was Katsuki beside him, his stomach swollen and heavy and—
“Fuck,” Katsuki groaned softly, stretching out his legs with a wince. “You better hold to that promise.”
“Huh?” Eijirou blinked, glancing toward him, the fantasy dissipating into confusion.
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused and slightly annoyed as he propped himself up on one elbow. “Carrying me, dumbass. You said you would.”
“Oh,” Eijirou sighed, relief easing through him. “Right. Yeah. I’ve got you.”
Katsuki shot him a sharp look, eyes narrowed, mouth curling into a smirk as he caught Eijirou’s expression. “Don’t get cocky, Red.”
Eijirou laughed softly, tension melting from his chest. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
But Katsuki’s smirk softened, eyes gentler, reaching out and threading their fingers together. The warmth of Katsuki’s palm pressed against his own soothed him in a way he desperately needed.
And Eijrou thought that maybe, just maybe, he could let this go.
That this wild, obsessive desire could pass. Fade like the brief mad fever that it was.
But even as Katsuki squeezed his hand, thumb stroking gently across his knuckles, Eijirou knew deep down that it wouldn't.
Not when the seed had already taken root.
Not when Katsuki had looked at him like that. Said that. Almost said that.
Not when Katsuki had put the possibility into the ether and made it just a little too real.
But for now, he didn’t say anything else. He’ll just lay quietly beside Katsuki, listening to the soft rhythm of his breathing. Letting himself pretend, at least for a moment, that he hadn’t just changed their entire fucking future in his head.
After all, that was a problem for later.
But later came too soon and the hike home felt…different.
Not outwardly, they still trudged through the dense woods, packs heavy and muscles aching. Feeling every mile down to their bones. But, something had shifted between them. Or maybe it had just shifted inside Eijirou’s head, slowly titling reality sideways until nothing felt quite steady beneath his feet.
Eijirou glanced over at Katsuki, walking just a few steps ahead of him. Hair damp from the heat, shoulders squared under the massive pack. There was no softness there, no fragile hesitance in his confident stride, just pure stubborn determination as he navigated the uneven ground.
But Eijirou’s mind was wandering again. Drifting off into that new, dangerous place that felt too real, too permanent. It was harder than ever not to picture it: Katsuki slowing down, his strides shortening as months wore on, a hand braced protectively against his stomach. Katsuki snapping at him for being too careful, even while secretly grateful that Eijirou was hovering so close.
“You good back there?” Katsuki called out suddenly, voice sharp, interrupting Eijrou’s thoughts.
Eijirou startled slightly, almost tripping over a root before catching himself, gripping his pack straps tighter. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Katsuki shot him a look over his shoulder, annoyed-curious-suspiscious, then rolled his eyes. “Coulda fooled me. You’re slower than usual.”
“Just tired.” Eijirou lied easily. “We had a pretty intense morning, Kat.”
Katsuki snorted. “No shit.”
They lapsed into silence again, but Katsuki slowed slightly, matching Eijirou’s pace. They moved quietly, steadily onward, the miles stretching until the trees finally started thinning. Giving way to glimpses of pavement, cars, and civilization again.
By the time they reached Eijirou’s motorcycle, he felt calmer. Steadier. The loud rumble of the engine and the familiar pressure of Katsuki’s chest against his back was comforting. Almost soothing enough to push away the obsessive thought.
Almost.
Then they were home, pulling into their driveway and shedding gear and helmets. Unpacking slowly, dragging themselves through the door in quiet relief. Katsuki stretched as they entered, groaning softly and immediately reaching for a glass from the cabinet. Filling it and drinking deeply before passing it wordlessly to Eijirou.
Eijirou took it but barely registered the cool slide of water down his throat. His eyes were still on Katsuki, his mind still tangled in something he couldn’t shake.
He hadn’t imagined it.
That moment. Those words.
Katsuki had said it. Had nearly let it slip at least. He had sounded real about it, had moaned it into the dirt like it meant something.
And now he was just…acting like nothing happened?
“God, I know we’ve done way longer trips before but I’ve fucking missed running water,” Katsuki sighed dramatically, stretching out his shoulders. He glanced at Eijirou, noticing the way his eyes lingered, and frowned slightly. “The hell are you staring at?”
Eijirou cleared his throat, looking away quickly, as his heart kicked up again. The gears in his head were still grinding against each other but unable to find footing. “Nothing.”
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he let it slide, shaking his head. “We gotta stop at the store later. Outta fucking everything.”
Eijirou hummed distractedly, setting the glass down. “Yeah. Uh, right.”
Katsuki eyed him again, suspicion sharpening. “You sure you’re good?”
“I’m good,” Eijirou lied automatically, gentler now, forcing a smile he hoped was reassuring. “Just thinking.”
“Yeah? Sounds dangerous,” Katsuki teased. “You sure your brain can handle it?” He was joking, but the sharp way he looked at Eijirou told him he wasn’t letting it go completely. He was waiting for something, for whatever was brewing in Eijirou’s head to spill out.
Eijirou rolled his eyes, forcing his attention away from Katsuki’s waist, from the memory of earlier. Of how good it felt, how right, how absolutely necessary it suddenly seemed. Instead, he shrugged, attempting casualness, even as his heart kicked painfully against his ribs.
“It’s just—” Eijirou hesitated. Swallowing hard as he forced himself to meet Katsuki’s curious and weary gaze. “Everybody’s really having kids these days, huh?”
Katsuki paused, something complicated flickering briefly across his face before he turned away, busying himself by unpacking his gear. His voice was casual, careful, like he was deliberately downplaying it.
“Yeah I know, it's like a fucking disease,” Katsuki muttered, turning away to busy himself with unpacking his gear. “Denki has a whole ass toddler. Cheeks had hers like what…three months ago now? And Half-and-half is knocked up again cause Hanta doesn’t know how to get off of him.”
His stomach twisted, then flipped, then twisted again.
It was happening again. That awful spiraling feeling, like his brain was trying to grasp something just out of reach. Something he didn’t have. Something they weren’t—
“Shouto’s pregnant?” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. His voice caught slightly, something wobbly beneath the surface. He cleared his throat and tried to salvage it quickly. “That’s two then. Two in three years that’s…huh.”
He did not.
Katsuki glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah,” he said slowly, dragging out the syllables, suspicion coloring his tone. “You knew that. Shouto said they were thinking about it when we saw them in December. Why are we even talking about this, Red?”
Eijirou’s mouth was dry. His pulse was too fast.
He could still hear it. Katsuki’s voice, wrecked and breathless beneath him saying it might actually take.
Or…almost saying.
But now— now Katsuki was playing it off like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t real. Like he hadn’t started this. Hadn’t fueled whatever the fuck was happening in Eijirou’s head.
Katsuki was pretending like this was coming out of nowhere.
Eijirou scrambled to recover, nodding quickly. “Right. Right yeah. December. Guess I just…forgot…I guess.”
Katsuki looked at him. Really looked at him.
For a second, his face softened. Just a fraction. Like he could sees the struggle in Eijirou’s expression, like he could tell something was off.
Then, just as quickly, his eyes flicked toward the hallway before snapping back to Eijirou. Something sharp and knowledgeable flashing through them.
“Oh,” Katsuki breathed, lips curling into a smirk like something just clicked into place.
Eijirou blinked, momentarily disoriented. “What?”
Katsuki titled his head, eyes narrowing in clear amusement. “That’s what’s been making you fucking weird, huh?
Eijirou’s stomach dropped. “Huh?”
Katsuki’s smirk widened into a full blown nasty grin. Like his point had been proven. “Fucking Half-and-Half and Sero having two brats in three years,” he said slowly, dragging out the words. “You’re having some kinda baby fever meltdown ‘cause all our friends are popping them out.”
Eijirou’s brain short-circuited. His mouth opened, then closed again. He was supposed to deny it. Say something. Anything.
But instead…he just stood there. Mouth slightly agape, panic and relief warring inside him.
Because Katsuki thought he had him figured out. Thought that this was just some weird, subconscious reaction to other people having kids.
And sure, maybe somewhere deep down that was apart of it.
But it was really him. It was them. It was Katsuki who had started this.
Eijirou was about to say something when Katsuki laughed, shaking his head.
“Un-fucking-believable,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re so fucking predictable sometimes, Eij.”
Eijirou let out a weak laugh, forcing himself to play along. "Yeah," he admitted softly, ducking his gaze to the floor. "Guess it just...caught me off guard. Two kids in three years is fast."
Katsuki scoffed again, rolling his eyes fondly. "It's fucking reckless," he corrected, softer now, more teasing. "But that's them. Not us."
Eijirou looked up, heart skipping a painful beat, the words lodged in his throat.
"But," Katsuki continued, eyes sharp but amused, clearly believing he'd solved the mystery, "At least I finally know what's been up your ass."
He reached out, nudging Eijirou's shoulder lightly, shaking his head as he moved past him toward the bedroom.
Eijirou forced a laugh, letting it slide out too late, too fake. "Yeah," he murmured, playing along because it was easier, safer. "Guess it just threw me off."
"Get your shit together,” Katsuki rolled his eyes fondly again, tossing a lazy wave over his shoulder. “I’m gonna shower. you’re joining.”
The shower water was scalding.
Eijirou stepped under the stream, flinching slightly as the heat bit into his shoulder and cascaded down his chest. It burned away all the dirt, sweat, and the sticky reminder of how they could barely clean up as much as they wanted before wrapping up camp.
He hoped it would wash away the thoughts too, at least for a few minutes, at least until he could be in his own space and not a mere breath away from Katsuki.
But it didn’t.
If anything, the heat only seemed to sear the thought deeper, branding it irrevocably into his skin.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair roughly, blinking rapidly through the haze of steam and forcing himself not to glance at Katsuki who stood blissfully unaware as he rinsed shampoo from his hair. The water rinsed down Katsuki’s back, tracing the lean lines of muscle, the curve of his waist, the dips and hollows Eijirou knew by heart.
But now his eyes saw something else entirely.
Eijirou swallowed roughly, forcing himself to look away. But, his imagination had already betrayed him. In his mind, Katsuki wasn’t lean and hard-edged anymore; he was softer. His stomach fuller, his hips rounder, his body transformed by something they’d created together. Eijirou’s hands pressing there and feeling movement beneath his palm. Katuski’s scowling at him, bitching about swollen ankles, restless nights, and the unbearable urge to punch Eijirou’s stupid, smiling face.
And fuck, it was intoxicating. The thought spiraled, unstoppable, uncontainable. His hands twitched at his sides, wanting to reach out, wanting to press into the imagined softness, the weight, the proof of his own possession. Katsuki was right fucking there, bare and vulnerable, completely at his mercy.
“You planning on actually showering?” Katsuki’s voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, impatient, amused.
Eijirou snapped his gaze upward, finding Katsuki staring back at him with one eyebrow cocked in challenge.
“You zoning out on me again?” Katsuki asked, stepping closer. “Seriously, Ei, what the fuck’s gotten into you?”
Eijirou exhaled slowly, heart pounding, heat rising dangerously fast to his face. He tried to grin, to brush it off, but it faltered halfway through, coming out tense. “Nothing. Just—”
“Just what?” Katsuki’s voice softened, searching Eijirou’s expression, concern sneaking into his eyes. “You been fucking weird all morning. Hell, all trip.”
Eijirou opened his mouth, but no words came. He couldn’t just say it. Not here. Not yet. “I'm—good,” he muttered instead, forcing an unconvincing smile. “Just...tired.”
Katsuki frowned slightly, clearly unconvinced, but let it drop. “Alright. Whatever, weirdo.”
Eijirou’s eyes trailed lower again without his permission, tracing Katsuki’s abdomen, imagining—again—what it might look like, stretched taut with his kid beneath Katsuki’s own rough palms. He imagined Katsuki’s posture shifting, the confident tilt of his hips turned gentle, cautious, protective.
And then Katsuki moved past him, bumping Eijirou’s shoulder with his own, muttering something about soap.
“You gonna move your ass, or you want me to fucking wash you, too?” Katsuki teased, smirking a bit.
Eijirou’s breath hitched sharply, the image burning brighter. Katsuki helping him, taking care of him, hands sliding gentle across his skin. Soft. Warm. Katsuki murmuring quiet complaints, voice low, tinged with reluctant fondness.
He almost reached for him right then. Almost pulled Katsuki closer, whispered it into his ear, begged him for something they’d barely talked about before.
No that was a lie. It wasn't like it was the first time Eijirou felt like…this. At least not about wanting a kid. They've talked about it, he swears. Just in a distant sort of future not in the general vague concept of “now.”
But he did want it now. Right now.
Instead, Eijirou clenched his jaw and stepped aside. “Nah, I got it.”
Katsuki glanced over his shoulder again, lingering, eyes sharp. He didn’t push further, just turned back to rinsing himself off, the water catching in the dips of his shoulder blades, sliding along his spine.
Eijirou watched him silently, barely breathing, heart hammering violently against his ribs.
Maybe he should say something.
Maybe he should admit it.
Maybe—
Katsuki reached down suddenly, one hand pressing lightly against his lower stomach. It was quick, casual and barely noticeable. But, Eijirou’s heart slammed painfully against his ribs. Short-circuiting at the sudden implication.
“What—are you okay?” Eijirou blurted, words tumbling out before he could stop himself.
Katsuki blinked, startled, as he quickly moved his hand away. Looking embarrassed. Looking caught. “Yeah, man,” he said quickly, brushing it off. “Just my stupid body being off schedule.”
But the way he glanced away, cheeks flushed slightly, betrayed something else entirely.
Eijirou stared at him, heartbeat loud enough to drown out the shower, the water, the pounding of blood in his veins. Suddenly, the possibilities crashed into him at once:
Maybe Katsuki already knew.
Maybe Katsuki was worried.
Or hopeful.
Or both.
Maybe—
But Katsuki turned away sharply, clearing his throat, visibly tense now as he turned off the water. “Don’t fucking hover, Red. I’m fine. Just a cramp.”
Eijirou swallowed back everything he wanted to say. He nodded, stepping away, feeling dizzy, dazed. “Yeah. Right. Okay.”
They dried off in silence, the space between them heavy with everything unsaid, everything waiting to be acknowledged. Katsuki didn’t speak again, just wrapped himself in a towel and walked out, leaving Eijirou alone in the still-steaming bathroom.
Eijirou pressed his forehead against the cool tile, exhaling slowly, eyes squeezed shut. He needed to get it together. Needed to find his composure again before he lost control entirely.
But the thought stayed, pulsing, insistent, overwhelming:
Katsuki, pregnant.
Katsuki, full.
Katsuki, his.
Fuck.
Eijirou was completely screwed.
And the worst part was…
He didn’t even care.
He didn’t care that he was spiraling. Didn’t care that every coherent thought he’d ever had was slowly being replaced by a vision of Katsuki that felt too real, too vivid, too fucking intoxicating.
He didn’t care that he wanted it so badly he could taste it.
He didn’t care that he’d started picturing Katsuki softer, gentler, rounder in places that were usually sharp and angular, belly just beginning to swell beneath the hem of his favorite hoodie. Katsuki, grumbling about his jeans not fitting, calling him stupid names when he offered to help him tie his shoes. Katsuki, curled up on the couch, asleep before eight because the exhaustion had finally gotten the better of him, letting Eijirou tuck a blanket around his shoulders. Warm and heavy with the proof of what they'd made together.
He didn’t care that he wanted to see Katsuki in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, absentmindedly rubbing slow, lazy circles over his belly while he argued over meal prep, telling Eijirou exactly how he’d messed up the recipe. But, eating it anyway, because the cravings were stronger than his stubbornness.
He didn’t care that he imagined how Katsuki might look at him when he felt the baby kick for the first time. Eyes wide and startled and secretly amazed, trying desperately not to smile.
He didn’t care that he imagined Katsuki begging him to stay close, not with words but with hands that clutched tighter, touches that lingered longer, silences that felt heavy with need, trust, desire. Katsuki quietly whispering against his ear, voice raw, “You did this to me,” full of accusation, awe, and want.
He didn’t even care that it wasn’t all sweet and soft in his head, either.
That sometimes it was desperate, possessive. Almost ruthless.
That he imagined himself pinning Katsuki down, sinking into him again, deep enough to leave a permanent mark, to make absolutely certain everyone knew exactly who Katsuki belonged to, who’d put him in this state. That he pictured himself pressing hands into Katsuki’s belly while Katsuki panted his name, begging for more, begging him to fill him again, again, again.
That he imagined his hands covering the growing curve of his belly, thumbs smoothing slow, possessive circles over skin stretched tight over something theirs. Imagined the heat of it, the weight of it, the undeniable proof of what he’d done to him. The way Katsuki might shudder, his body working against him even when his mouth was telling him to shut the hell up. The way he’d try to bite back every sound, to keep himself from giving Eijirou the satisfaction—but Eijirou would know. He’d feel it.
God, the thought of Katsuki getting needy drove Eijirou insane. Hormones, frustration, the sheer sensitive of his belly, his chest, his cock, his hole. He wanted to see it. To feel it. Katsuki pressing up against him flushed and a little pissed off about how bad he needed this before sinking back down on Eijirou’s lap and holding his belly to keep balance. Or maybe he’s sprawled out under him. He wanted to lick into his mouth while Katsuki was panting, arching, growling at him to quit staring, dumbass while Eijirou’s hands palmed at every inch of skin he could reach just to see how different he felt. He wanted to push him down onto their bed, kiss a trail lower, press his mouth against the soft, full swell of his belly and groan into him when he felt movement beneath his lips.
He didn’t care that he was turning something beautiful into something raw, something possessive, something dark around the edges, sharp enough to cut himself on.
Because in his mind, it all belonged to him.
Katsuki, the baby, the curves, the heaviness, the swollen proof of what they'd done; all his. And it was fucking addicting.
It was crazy how much he didn’t care.
At least, he didn’t care for four weeks.
Four weeks since he’d let the thought take root, since it had sunk its teeth into him and refused to let go.
Four weeks since Katsuki had cut himself off mid-sentence in the woods, since he’d looked at Eijirou with dazed, half-lidded eyes and said something that had changed his entire goddamn brain chemistry.
Four weeks since he’d felt something in him shift permanently.
And now?
Now he was losing his fucking mind because it just wasn’t going away.
It should have by now. Should have been one of those thoughts that popped up, burned hot for a few days, then faded like a bad craving. But this wasn’t just a craving was it?
Cause it felt like something much worse.
It was in him now, settled in his bones. Something that had embedded itself so deeply that he was starting to forget what it was like to not think about it.
He’d never wanted anything this badly before.
Not when he’d first realized he liked Katsuki.
Not when he’d waited for Katsuki to say I love you first.
Not even leading up to the second before he proposed.
Cause this wasn’t about Katsuki. It was about what Katsuki could be. What he could look like. About what EIjirou could do to thim. What they could make together. What he could see and touch and keep.
And it was fucking constant.
At the gym his brain replaced weights with the extra pounds Katsuki would be carrying. At the grocery store, he stared at the vitamins longer than necessary, catching himself before he threw prenatal ones into their cart. At home, he caught himself watching the way Katsuki moves. Memorizing the shape of his belly, his sides, his hips, just to imagine how they’d stretch.
Only for it to be the pill packet that fucking broke him.
It sat there, innocently enough, next to Katsuki’s toothbrush and a half-empty tube of toothpaste. A small, innocuous, pale-blue packet that Eijirou had seen every morning for years without giving it a second thought.
But today, he couldn’t look away.
He stood frozen at the sink, toothbrush slack in his hand, eyes locked on the neatly numbered row of pills. Katsuki had forgotten it on the edge of the counter, a small oversight. Something simple. Something harmless.
But in Eijirou’s mind, it was anything but.
Because now, after four fucking weeks of torturous obsession, it represented everything Eijirou wanted but couldn't have. Everything he couldn't admit he wanted so badly that it felt like a knife lodged in his ribs.
He stared at the pills, heart thudding in his chest, feeling his pulse heavy and thick in his ears. A wild thought rose sharply, uncontrollably:
What if I just took them?
He blinked, horrified at himself.
No. No. Fuck, that’s insane.
He wouldn't—but still, his mind spiraled further:
What if I hid them?
Just one pill.
Or two.
Or—
He exhaled sharply, bracing himself against the sink as the thoughts churned violently inside his chest. The heat rising up his throat felt suffocating, choking, dizzying. He shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t even think about it. The idea of doing something like that was repulsive, wrong, fucked up on levels he couldn't even process.
But—
But hadn’t Katsuki said it? Hadn’t he almost said it?
You keep going like that, it might actually—
It wasn’t just his imagination. Couldn’t have been. The way Katsuki looked at him all glassy eyed, the way his voice caught, how he gasped, his hands gripping Eijiou’s arms like he wanted it—
Fuck.
Eijirou’s breath shuddered out of him. His mind dragging him deeper into the fantasy.
Katsuki, belly swollen, back arched under the weight, hands on his lower back, scowling at Eijirou for hovering but still leaning into his touch when Eijirou pressed his palms to the firm curve.
Katsuki, sitting on the couch, legs tucked up beside him, barely paying attention to the TV as his hands rubbed slow, absentminded circles over his stomach, getting used to the feeling of his own skin stretched tight.
Katsuki, shoving Eijirou off when he tried to help him up, but still letting him do it, still letting him touch.
His hand twitched at his side.
He could feel himself sweating, could hear his breathing shallow and uneven. The ache in his gut tightened until he had to brace himself against the porcelain, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the sink to stop himself from doing something terrible.
The door creaked open behind him, swinging too fast, and Eijirou jerked upright. His shoulders were stiff, guilt punching through his chest like he’d actually been caught. An apology was already on his tongue as he watched Katsuki shuffle in. He was barefoot, shirtless, rubbing at his face, and barely sparing him a glance as he dragged his feet across the floor.
Eijirou’s gut tightened.
Katsuki was moving slow. Slower than usual, not much like himself at all. His hair was a mess, his movements heavy, still thick with sleep.
The guy wasn’t exactly a morning person—he certainly wasn’t a night person either since he’d been falling asleep by eight more consistently than usual—but he never woke up like this.
“Mornin,” Katsuki muttered, voice gravelly as he yawned, stretching an arm halfheartedly before bracing his hand against the counter. Not even reaching for the pill yet. Even still, he’d caught Eijirou staring. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Eijirou found himself saying a little too fast, he internally cursed at himself for being so immediately aggressive, but Katsuki didn’t seem to notice it. He was too busy sniffing and rubbing at his eyes and blinking sluggishly. “Kat, you’ve been dead to the world since like 7:30. Are you still sleepy?”
Katsuki made a face at him, still rubbing his eye with one hand and scratching at his stomach with the other. “What times’it?”
“Noon.”
“Oh,” Katsuki mumbled as if that was answer enough before reaching for the pill packet. Before almost reaching for the pill packet at least. Just for a second, his hand hovered over the silver packet like he’d forgotten what he was doing midmotion. He grabbed it and popped the pill out, rolled it between his fingers and almost walked out without taking it. “We’ve got that…that lunch thing. Christ, I’m starving.”
He paused mid step and seemed to realize his near mistake. He huffed then tossed the pill into his mouth, swallowing it dry.
Eijirou just stared at him as heat rushed up his spine, his body locked as something unfamiliar surged through him.
Right, the pill.
He almost wanted to reach out and take the rest of the pack out of Katsuki’s hands. He wanted to throw it away. Wanted to hide it. Wanted to—
Katsuki’s fingers dropped from his mouth, tongue darting out absently as he grimaced from the lingering bitter taste. But then he turned, brows furrowed slightly, expression still half sleepy and voice gruff and unimpressed as he finally—finally—met Eijirou’s wide stare head on. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“It’s…noon.”
“Yeah no shit, dumbass. I mean what the fuck are you looking at me like that for? Is there something on my face? Do I have three fucking heads? What?”
Eijirou’s throat was painfully dry. "Oh! Uh, nothing," he rasped out, voice sounding foreign to his own ears. His gaze darted back to the pill pack in Katsuki's hand, heart twisting. "You, uhm—"
He shouldn't. He really shouldn't.
"How long have you been on those?"
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "The fuck kinda question is that? Years. I’ve been on them since we’ve been together since somebody hates condoms."
Eijirou nodded, barely breathing, staring too hard at the small plastic pack still in Katsuki's fingers. "Yeah, but...like, have you ever missed any?"
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed sharply. He turned slowly toward Eijirou, suspicion creeping into his expression. "I dunno, maybe? What the hell are you—"
"I'm just asking," Eijirou rushed, too fast. He tried to cover with a forced laugh, but it came out strained, brittle. "I mean, what if you missed some? Would it matter?"
Katsuki’s jaw tightened, shoulders tense. He placed the pills back on the counter, deliberately meeting Eijirou’s gaze, a challenge flaring in his eyes.
"You tryna say something, Eijirou?" Katsuki asked, voice low.
Eijirou swallowed hard, chest aching. "I'm just—"
"Because," Katsuki cut him off sharply, voice growing colder, "You're acting real fucking weird about my pills all of a sudden. Got something you wanna say?"
Eijirou faltered, eyes darting away. "I'm just asking."
"Bullshit." Katsuki snapped. "You've been weird for weeks. The hell is your problem lately?"
Eijirou’s frustration surged, desperate, irrational, unable to hold back any longer. "Maybe I'm just wondering why you even still take 'em." he snapped back.
Katsuki stared at him, incredulous. "Because I don't wanna be barefoot and pregnant, Ei."
The dismissive scoff in Katsuki’s voice stung more than Eijirou expected, clawed at the raw, fragile part of him that couldn't stop picturing Katsuki exactly like that. Barefoot, pregnant, utterly his.
Before Katsuki could say anything else, Eijirou muttered, "You say that like it's a bad thing."
The silence stretched sharp and unbearable between them. Katsuki’s eyes widened fractionally, mouth parted in disbelief.
Then he laughed—a short, humorless bark of disbelief.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Katsuki asked, eyes blazing. "You serious right now?"
Eijirou swallowed, heart slamming in his chest. He shouldn't press this, he knew he should stop, but he couldn't. The words slipped out anyway, edged with desperation. "What if I am?"
Katsuki stared at him, expression unreadable, eyes searching Eijirou’s face like he was looking for the punchline to a joke that never came.
"You—" Katsuki shook his head slightly, voice dropping dangerously. "You want me off the pill? That what this shit's been about?"
Eijirou opened his mouth, closed it again. Panic surged through him, hot and heavy and thick. He was losing control, the obsession spilling out, impossible to contain now. "Kat—"
Katsuki held up a hand sharply, cutting him off. "Forget it," he said roughly, eyes flashing, grabbing the pills again and turning away. “I'm not doing this shit right now."
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Eijirou standing alone in the suffocating silence of the bathroom, staring blankly at his own reflection in the mirror.
He didn't recognize himself—face flushed, eyes wild, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. His heart hammered painfully, stomach twisted in knots.
Because he’d just said it out loud. He'd crossed that line he promised himself he wouldn't. He’d let the thought out, let Katsuki hear it, and now it was real.
Eijirou stayed in the bathroom long after Katsuki left, gripping the edge of the sink like it could keep him grounded. His breath still came too fast, his chest too tight, his thoughts an absolute fucking disaster.
He’d said it out loud.
He’d said it out loud.
And now Katsuki knew.
The weight of it pressed against him thick. His mind scrambled, trying to figure out how to backpedal, how to fix it, how to make Katsuki unhear what he’d just said. But there was no undoing it.
He was fucked.
Somewhere in the apartment, a cabinet slammed shut, punctuated by the unmistakable sound of Katsuki aggressively putting away dishes.
Eijirou scrubbed a hand down his face, stomach twisting.
He’s pissed.
And honestly? He had every right to be.
Eijirou had been snippy for weeks, biting at Katsuki’s patience with petty arguments and short tempers and moods that neither of them had been able to explain until now. But now it was obvious. It had always been about this.
He exhaled shakily, staring at his reflection, at the wild look in his own eyes, at the flush still high on his cheeks. He needed to get his shit together before he made this even worse.
His gaze flicked down to the counter, where Katsuki’s birth control still sat in its little plastic pack.
The argument looped in his head, sharp and raw.
"You say that like it’s a bad thing."
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
Eijirou clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe. He wasn’t going to push it further, not right now. He’d already pushed too much.
Instead, he braced himself, shook off the worst of it, and finally forced himself to leave the bathroom.
Katsuki was already in the kitchen, dressed, hunched over his phone, scowling at the screen like it had personally offended him. He didn’t look up when Eijirou walked in, just tapped the screen a few more times before tossing it onto the counter with a sharp clatter.
Eijirou hesitated. The air between them was charged, still buzzing with leftover frustration.
Before he could figure out what to say, Katsuki sighed sharply, rolling his shoulders like he was physically shaking the tension off. "Lunch," he muttered, grabbing his wallet off the counter. "We’re meeting Sho and Hanta in twenty."
Eijirou blinked. "Huh?"
Katsuki finally looked at him then, eyes sharp but unreadable. "Lunch. You forgot already?"
Eijirou hadn’t forgotten, they’d made plans a few days ago. But he hadn’t been thinking about it at all. Not when he’d been too busy obsessing over how badly he wanted to knock Katsuki up.
He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh—right. Yeah. Yeah, let’s go."
Katsuki just stared at him for a second too long, then grabbed his keys, muttering, "Get your shoes on, dumbass," before heading toward the door.
Eijirou exhaled, pressing his palms against the counter for a beat before forcing himself to move.
The ride to the restaurant was quieter than usual.
Not literally quiet—the growl of Eijirou’s bike filled the space between them, the deep, steady rumble vibrating beneath them as they tore down the streets. But there was something else, something thicker than the humid air. Something heavier than the weight of Katsuki pressed against his back.
Eijirou could feel it.
The tension.
The distance.
The fact that Katsuki wasn’t holding onto him the way he usually did.
Normally, on longer rides, Katsuki settled against him without thinking. His arms slung low around Eijirou’s waist, his body resting easy against his back, completely relaxed despite the speed. Sometimes he even hooked his fingers loosely into the front of Eijirou’s jacket, like it was second nature. Like his hands just belonged there.
But today?
Today was different.
Katsuki still had a hand on him, still held onto his sides for stability, but it was more detached, more distant. Like he was holding on because he had to, not because he wanted to.
And Eijirou hated it.
He swallowed, flexing his grip around the handlebars, feeling his fingers itch with the need to do something. To fix it. To make Katsuki hold onto him the way he was supposed to.
But what was he supposed to say?
"Hey, sorry I got all weird about your birth control and basically told you I want to breed you like an animal."
Yeah.
No.
Not exactly a casual conversation.
So instead, he just focused on the road, forcing himself to keep his movements smooth, controlled, not letting the agitation seep into the way he handled the bike.
Katsuki, for his part, hadn’t said a damn thing since they left the apartment.
Usually, he’d grumble about the route or bitch about a dumbass driver they passed, or, if he was in a particularly good mood, he’d lean in and mutter something teasing in Eijirou’s ear. Something about how he was taking his turns too wide or acting like he was in a goddamn race.
But today?
Nothing.
Just silence, just that cold distance, just the quiet weight of Katsuki pressed to his back without warmth.
It felt wrong.
Eijirou gritted his teeth, taking a turn a little sharper than necessary, but Katsuki didn’t react the way he normally would.
Normally, when Eijirou went a little too fast into a curve, Katsuki would tighten his grip instinctively, press closer, lean into the movement with him.
But this time, Katsuki just adjusted like it was nothing, shifting naturally, his hand steady on Eijirou’s waist, but not holding tighter.
And Eijirou hated that, too.
He wanted Katsuki to hold on to him.
Wanted him to grip him too hard, to feel him tense up, to react.
He wanted him to need him.
Instead, Katsuki just sat there, just went along for the ride, just acted like nothing had happened, even though something very obviously had.
The lights ahead flipped red, forcing Eijirou to slow, his bike rumbling low as he rolled to a stop at the intersection. Katsuki sighed behind him, something pointed, something that made Eijirou's skin prickle with irritation and guilt all at once.
Then, finally, Katsuki spoke.
"How long you gonna act like a bitch about this?"
Eijirou stiffened, a sharp exhale punching out of him. He turned his head just enough to see Katsuki’s flat expression in the side mirror. His ruby eyes narrowed, mouth set in a tight, unimpressed line.
The question was so Katsuki it hurt. Blunt. Direct. Said like Eijirou was the one being unreasonable, like he was the one acting weird.
Like Katsuki hadn't just ripped him apart less than twenty minutes ago with a joke that shouldn't have cut as deep as it did.
Eijirou swallowed, jaw flexing. "I’m not—"
Katsuki’s snort cut him off.
"Yeah, you fuckin’ are," Katsuki said, leaning back slightly, like the conversation wasn’t even worth the full effort of keeping himself close.
Eijirou’s grip tightened on the handlebars.
"You gonna cry about it the whole time we’re at lunch too?" Katsuki asked dryly.
“Kat,” Eijirou gritted his teeth, rolling his shoulders as the tension stretched between them, thick and suffocating. The engine thrummed beneath them, a low, steady vibration, but it was nothing compared to the slow, pulsing frustration creeping into his bones. “I want this.”
He couldn’t say it.
He wanted to turn back around and tell Katsuki everything. Every damn thing. Could tell him that he wasn’t just being weird, he wasn’t just sulking. That this wasn’t a passing thought or some random fixation. It was real. It had buried itself into his brain and refused to leave, like an itch he wants so desperately to scratch.
But Katsuki was still leaning back slightly, purposefully distant. That space between them, the fucking audacity of it, stung worse that Eijirou was willing to admit.
"...Tch," Katsuki muttered after a few beats of silence, shaking his head. "Whatever. You’ll get over it."
Katsuki wasn’t even fighting about it anymore. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even annoyed. He was just acting like it wasn’t worth his time. Like it wasn’t even worth a real conversation. Just something to roll his eyes at. Just something to dismiss.
That more than anything made Eijirou’s blood start to boil.
He huffed out a sharp breath, tightening his grip on the handles. “You’ll get over it. That’s what you think? Really?”
Katsuki snorted, shifting slightly behind him, just enough for Eijiour to feel the weight of the words press against his back. “Yeah. ‘Cause it's bullshit, Ei. It’s just—” He made a vague dismissive motion, his fingers curling against Eijirou’s jacket. “I dunno. Your dumb caveman instincts or whatever. You’ll stop foaming at the mouth in about a week.”
Eijrou’s stomach twisted, his jaw tightening as something sour burned up his throat. “Caveman instincts.” He echoed.
Katsuki shrugged. "I mean, come on," he scoffed. "It’s not that deep. You just—" he hesitated for the first time, and Eijirou felt it. A slight pause, a shift, a crack in his confidence, so subtle that most people wouldn’t have noticed.
But Eijirou knew him.
Knew when Katsuki was bluffing. Knew when he was bullshitting, trying to act like something didn’t bother him when it very clearly did.
It sent something sharp slicing through Eijirou’s chest. He inhaled deeply, steadying himself. "What if I don’t stop thinking about it?" he asked, voice low.
Katsuki exhaled hard through his nose, fingers tightening just slightly in the fabric of Eijirou’s jacket before he caught himself. "Then that’s your fucking problem." he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite.
Eijirou swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Kat…"
"Don’t," Katsuki said immediately. "Not right now."
"But—"
"I said don’t."
Eijirou clenched his jaw, feeling like he was balancing on the edge of a knife. The conversation wasn’t over, but Katsuki was pulling back. Which meant he wasn’t slamming the door shut on it completely.
It wasn't a flat-out no. It wasn't a definitive fuck-off. Katsuki was engaging, even if he was doing it in the most infuriating, Katsuki way possible.
And that—that was something.
Eijirou stared at the light, willing it to turn green and when it finally did, he took off a little too fast. Not enough to be reckless, just enough to get Katsuki to tighten his grip.
It wasn’t much.
But Eijirou still felt it.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
When they pulled into the restaurant’s lot and Eijirou killed the engine, he could already see Hanta and Shouto waiting inside.
And Katsuki?
Katsuki was already acting normal. Already hopping off the bike, already walking ahead, already brushing it off like nothing had happened.
Eijirou watched him go, something simmering under his skin, something burning in his chest.
Because he wasn’t over it.
Not by a long shot.
Eijirou stayed sitting on the bike for a moment too long, forcing himself to breathe. Katsuki had already walked ahead, his posture deliberately casual, like nothing was wrong at all. Like he hadn’t just called Eijirou out on the tension that had settled thick between them, impossible to ignore.
Eijirou clenched and unclenched his fists, fighting the tightness in his chest, forcing a breath that sounded too much like frustration.
He couldn’t do this here. Not with Shouto and Hanta waiting, not when they were already inside, watching them through the glass, ready to greet them with smiles and hugs and friendly conversation.
He had to be normal.
He could do this. He just had to ignore the ache deep in his chest, the obsessive, gnawing desire that had taken root and refused to fade.
Eijirou stood finally, shoving his helmet aside, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension as he made his way into the restaurant. Trying desperately to put on his usual bright smile.
Shouto was already standing as he walked in, a soft smile on his lips, his posture easy and relaxed. One hand subtly resting near his waist, which, Eijirou realized belatedly, was actually holding the faint curve of his stomach.
“Eijirou,” Shouto greeted warmly, stepping forward with arms open for a hug, as gentle and polite as ever.
Eijirou smiled wider—too wide—and stepped into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Shouto’s slim frame. But the second he touched him, his heart lurched painfully, his breath catching sharply as he felt it.
The undeniable, soft swell beneath Shouto’s loose shirt.
It wasn’t much, but it was real, tangible, warm under his hands. Proof that Katsuki was right. Proof that Hanta had done it again. Proof of something Eijirou desperately wanted but couldn’t have.
“Congrats, Sho,” Eijirou forced out, pulling back just enough to smile brightly at him. “I—I didn’t know.”
Shouto’s smile softened further, a quiet pride in his eyes. “Thank you. We were waiting to tell you both.”
“Kat was spreading rumors,” Hanta added, a lazy smile playing at his lips already. “So, it's cool if you knew already.”
“It's those damn linen shirts Sho brought back out of the closet,” Katsuki defended himself as Hanta clapped his shoulder. “Dead giveaway.”
Eijirou felt his heart thump unevenly, throat tightening around his words. “That’s—that’s amazing, man. Seriously. I’m so happy for you guys.”
He meant it. He really did. But there was something else there too. Sharp and a little like an ache. Something he hated feeling, hated acknowledging even existed within him.
Jealousy.
Eijirou stepped back, his smile wavering only slightly as Hanta clapped him warmly on the shoulder. “Yeah, man, guess we’re officially insane now,” Hanta laughed, grinning widely, proud and easy like always.
Katsuki scoffed next to him, settling down into the booth. “You were already insane, dumbass.”
Hanta snorted, nudging Katsuki with his elbow before glancing back toward Eijirou. “Anyway, figured it was time for baby number two. Sho’s handling it like a champ, as usual.”
Shouto rolled his eyes softly, settling into his seat next to Hanta, leaning into him easily. “It’s been easier this time,” he said quietly. “Less...uncertainty.”
Eijirou slid into the booth next to Katsuki, feeling every bit of space between them even as their shoulders brushed. Katsuki wasn’t looking at him, just tapping restlessly at the table, like he wanted the conversation to keep moving away from them.
Eijirou forced himself to speak up, to be present. “Yeah, you guys are pros now, huh? Two in three years is impressive.”
He regretted it instantly. The reminder was too sharp, the words slicing through the table like a blade. Katsuki shot him a quick, unreadable glance, tension flickering briefly in his eyes before he turned back to Shouto and Hanta.
Hanta laughed again, easy and confident. “Impressive. Exhausting. Depends on who you ask. Either way it’s the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to us.”
Shouto hummed softly, a gentle smile on his lips as he reached down and absently rubbed the curve of his stomach again. “It’s good. It feels right.”
Eijirou felt his throat close again, chest constricting, and forced himself to look down at the menu, trying not to notice the way Katsuki subtly shifted away from him.
“Yeah,” he murmured quietly, voice tight, “I bet it does.”
The conversation shifted smoothly from there, Hanta and Katsuki ribbing each other playfully, Shouto occasionally chiming in with gentle sarcasm. But Eijirou could barely hear any of it. He was too busy feeling the echo of Shouto’s warmth beneath his fingers, too busy picturing Katsuki in his place, imagining how different he’d look—how different it would feel.
How perfect it would feel.
How impossible it now seemed.
Eijirou laughed quietly at something Hanta said, forcing himself to sound normal, but it was hollow, distant. Because Katsuki was right beside him, silent and tense, clearly feeling the unspoken distance stretching between them like a chasm.
And now, Eijirou had to pretend everything was fine, that the ache gnawing at his chest wasn’t threatening to break him apart entirely.
But as he watched Shouto lean easily into Hanta’s touch, glowing with something deeper than happiness, something undeniable and real, Eijirou knew:
He wasn’t fooling anyone.
Least of all himself.
A sharp clink of silverware snapped Eijirou’s attention back to the table. Katsuki had just set his fork down like he was done with it. Eijrou glanced down to find his plate was barely touched.
His brows furrowed slightly. Katsuki had ordered something weird today. Grilled chicken, rice. No spice. No sauce. Nothing like his usual here. But Eijirou had just assumed he wasn’t in the mood for anything heavier. That kind of thing happened sometimes.
But now, he wasn’t even eating it.
Instead, he reached for his water and took a long slow sip while avoiding looking at anyone else’s food. Even then, his throat bobbed a little harder than normal like he was forcing it down.
Weird.
Hanta’s fork scraped against his plate, and Katsuki’s shoulders twitched. Just slightly. Barely noticeable, but Eijirou saw it. Saw the way his jaw flexed and the way his fingers curled subtly against the napkin as he gripped it in a loose fist.
The air smelled heavily of salt and spice. Hanta’s plate had the worst of it, something greasy and pungent, some kind of loaded nachos that were soaked in cheese and sizzling with oil. Normally, that wouldn’t even faze Katsuki. Normally, he’d be the first one to bitch about someone else’s shitty eating habits. But this time?
Katsuki wouldn’t even look at it.
His fingers drummed briefly against the table before he sighed and shoved the plate towards Eijirou with a muttered command of “You eat it,” his voice was flat. “You’re like my human garbage disposal.”
Eijirou blinked. “This place never failed us before,” That wasn’t…normal. Well, he could count the number of times Katsuki had shared his food with him on all his fingers and toes but it was never like this. Didn’t matter if he was hungry, he’d finish a plate out of pure principle before giving up the whole thing. “What? That bad? How could they mess up grilled chicken?”
“They didn’t,” and that was weird too, Katsuki defending the restaurant but not his own clean plate club honor. He barely glanced at him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Just not hungry.”
Eijirou frowned slightly. “You just said you were starving like an hour ago.”
Katsuki clicked his tongue, dismissive. “Guess I changed my mind.”
That was bullshit. Katsuki didn’t just lose his appetite.
Before Eijirou could say anything else, Katsuki suddenly turned towards Shouto. Clearly redirecting the conversation away from himself. “Sho, how do you feel this time around?”
Shouto blinked, tilting his head slightly. “Physically?”
Katsuki shrugged, swirling the ice in his glass. “Yeah. Compared to last time.”
Shouto considered this for a moment before answering. “It’s different,” he admitted. “I was nauseous the whole time with my first baby. I’m afraid that whoever called it morning sickness may have lied. But this time it’s not so bad. I think it has actually eased up completely now.”
“Yeah?” Katsuki said, voice almost dripping with a sort of disdain that the moment surely couldn’t have called for as he took another sip of his drink. Shouto didn’t seem to notice the change in tone. “Lucky you.”
Eijirou shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fingers tapping restlessly against the edge of the table as Shouto and Katsuki continued their conversation. He wasn't entirely listening. He couldn't. Not when Hanta was sitting there, an arm casually draped around Shouto’s shoulders, looking smug and proud like he’d somehow accomplished something that Eijirou couldn’t.
Shouto was practically glowing, cheeks tinted a soft pink, his linen shirt hanging loosely.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair how effortlessly they sat there, comfortable, confident in this new life they were building. Twice in three years. And here Eijirou was, desperately spiraling out of control just imagining Katsuki in the same position. He could almost see it clearly now. Katsuki sitting beside him, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hand unconsciously resting protectively over the subtle swell beneath his shirt. He wouldn't be soft in linen. He'd still wear black, still snap at anyone who even hinted he might need help. He'd be so fiercely himself, even swollen and carrying their child.
The thought made Eijirou's stomach flip painfully.
“You two find out the gender yet?” Katsuki asked, drawing Eijirou's focus back to the table. He sounded casual, friendly even, but Eijirou heard the underlying edge in his voice.
Shouto shook his head, a gentle smile on his lips. "We wanted to wait this time. Let it be a surprise. The doctor said everything looked good though. I’m in a group chat for expecting parents now, too, and I think it’s actually been really helpful. Denki gave us the idea—"
"Denki?" Katsuki interrupted, eyebrows raised. "Why the fuck is Pikachu in your pregnancy group chat?"
Shouto laughed softly, leaning back as Hanta pulled him in closer with a smug, casual ease. "Apparently he's been in there since before his daughter was born. He's...surprisingly supportive."
Eijirou couldn't stop staring at the way Hanta’s hand rested protectively on Shouto’s shoulder, the casual possessiveness that radiated from him. It made Eijirou’s chest ache, jealousy and longing twisting dangerously inside him. Hanta was practically showing Shouto off, proud, smug, as if having children was something he'd achieved. Something Eijirou couldn’t.
He clenched his jaw, fighting down a sudden, irrational anger.
Katsuki, oblivious to Eijirou’s turmoil, suddenly spoke again. “What date is it?”
“Saturday,” Hanta offered lightly, missing the point entirely.
Katsuki shot him a stank-faced glare before turning sharply to Eijirou instead. "Da-te, moron," Katsuki snapped, biting into the word with irritation.
Eijirou startled, quickly fumbling for his phone and glancing at the lock screen. “S’the sixth.”
Katsuki visibly stilled, something unreadable passing quickly over his face. He repeated quietly, almost to himself, “The sixth?” Something flickered behind his eyes—realization, calculation, and then something deeper Eijirou couldn't place. Katsuki glanced down at his phone again, eyes narrowing in thought.
Eijirou felt a twist of anxiety spike through him as Katsuki’s silence lingered. Hanta and Shouto exchanged a curious glance before Hanta cleared his throat awkwardly. “You good, man?”
Katsuki snapped out of it immediately, irritation flashing across his features. "Great," he said sharply, pocketing his phone again. “No, yeah, I’m good. Best damn day of my life.”
Hanta shifted, concern lining his brow. "You su—"
"You gonna hop off my cock or what? I’m good. I told you I’m good. So I’m good."
Eijirou swallowed roughly, anxiety turning quickly into a sharper, deeper dread. Because Katsuki wasn’t good. Something had clearly just clicked for him. Something Eijirou couldn't grasp yet, and it made the tension stretch even tighter between them. Katsuki’s eyes flicked to him, holding his gaze just long enough for Eijirou to know that something had changed.
The conversation resumed awkwardly around them, Shouto tentatively describing breathing classes while Hanta nodded along. Eijirou forced himself to smile, forced himself to laugh when Shouto mentioned the group chat again, and forced himself not to watch the way Katsuki’s jaw kept tightening with every passing moment.
Lunch dragged on in waves of uneasy tension masked by polite conversation. When they finally stood to leave, Eijirou hesitated at the door, hugging Shouto goodbye, feeling again the gentle firmness of his growing stomach pressing against his own.
He pulled away, his voice shaking slightly. “Congrats again, Sho. Really happy for you both.”
Shouto smiled softly. “Thanks, Eiji.”
Katsuki brushed past them, already headed toward the motorcycle, pulling out his phone again with an intensity that made Eijirou’s pulse jump. Eijirou offered one final wave before hurrying after Katsuki, dread settling deep in his chest.
Something was happening. Something Katsuki wasn’t saying. Something that felt big, important, and absolutely fucking terrifying.
But worse than that was the voice whispering in the back of his head.
Maybe it’s something good. Maybe he's thinking about it too.
Katsuki was still acting weird when they stepped outside.
Or maybe Eijirou was the weird one. But at this point he couldn’t tell. Katsuki had been practically vibrating with restless energy since they left the table, eyes darting repeatedly to his phone, impatient and distracted. He’d barely even said goodbye to Shouto and Hanta before grabbing his helmet and heading straight toward the bike.
Eijirou followed, swallowing hard, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at Katsuki’s silence.
“You good?” he asked cautiously, watching Katsuki slip his helmet over his head, jaw tense, fingers flexing around the strap.
Katsuki shot him a quick glare, annoyance clearly edging through. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Eijirou sighed softly, mounting the bike and steadying it. “You’re checking your phone every two seconds, man.”
“Mind your damn business,” Katsuki muttered, straddling the bike roughly behind him, arms curling around his waist. “I’ll tell you when I tell you.”
Eijirou swallowed hard, biting back the urge to press it further. Instead, he revved the engine, the familiar rumble filling the air between them, offering a temporary distraction.
But then Katsuki leaned forward, voice cutting sharply through the growl of the engine, directly into Eijirou’s ear. “We need condoms.”
Eijirou’s heart twisted painfully. Before he could even think, his voice snapped back sharp and harsh. “No.”
The bike’s engine revved angrily beneath them. Katsuki jerked slightly at his tone, his grip tightening around Eijirou’s waist.
“Excuse me?”
Eijirou shifted restlessly, teeth grinding. “We haven’t needed 'em in years.”
“Well, apparently we do now,” Katsuki shot back bitterly. “You’re losing your damn mind over my pills, so I figured I’d make your life easier.”
Eijirou clenched his jaw tight enough to hurt, accelerating onto the road with more force than necessary, the wind whipping harshly around them, cutting off Katsuki’s next words.
They rode in a tense, simmering silence, broken only by the rush of air and the roar of the bike beneath them. But Eijirou’s thoughts were deafening.
He was hurt. Furious. Confused. But beneath it all was something even worse. The aching sense of betrayal that Katsuki would try to draw a line so clearly between them. That Katsuki was treating this like a problem he needed to fix rather than something real, something they could talk about, something he could—
He shook his head sharply, trying to force the thought away.
When they finally pulled into the drugstore parking lot, Eijirou didn’t even cut the engine before Katsuki swung off the bike, movements tense and irritated.
Eijirou stared forward, gripping the handlebars so tightly his fingers ached. He could hear Katsuki muttering irritably beside him, annoyed as he tugged his helmet off.
“Real cute,” Katsuki snapped, turning toward Eijirou sharply, frustration evident in every line of his body. “You know, you were kinda hot when you were just being a dick. Now you’re just bein’ fucking annoying.”
He almost laughed, but there was no humor in it. Instead, Katsuki turned on his heel, storming off into the drugstore without another glance backward.
Eijirou remained on the bike, engine still rumbling beneath him, heartbeat hammering in his ears.
Because he knew this was his fault. He knew he'd pushed too hard, crossed lines Katsuki had clearly drawn, forced the tension between them until it had reached this breaking point.
But he still couldn’t stop himself from wondering, from obsessing, from feeling his chest twist painfully every time Katsuki acted like this. Like Eijirou was wrong. Like he was out of line. Like he was somehow insane for wanting what he wanted.
He exhaled sharply, dropping his head onto the handlebars, breathing raggedly.
He knew he had to fix this. But the obsession had already settled too deeply beneath his skin. It was too late now to take it back.
Because Katsuki had already drawn a line.
And Eijirou had no idea how to stop himself from crossing it again.
The engine ticked beneath him, metal cooling as Eijirou shifted restlessly on the bike. Katsuki was taking too damn long inside the store, leaving him alone in the parking lot, frustration fading into something heavier, quieter—shame, regret, unease—twisting sharply in his gut.
Maybe Katsuki was reconsidering. Maybe he was second-guessing the condoms.
Or maybe he just didn't want to face him yet.
Eijirou sighed sharply, rolling his shoulders, forcing himself to breathe. He didn’t have a right to be angry, not really. Katsuki was just drawing a line, taking care of himself, doing what Eijirou should’ve done from the beginning.
But that thought only made him ache deeper, his chest hollow, empty.
When Katsuki finally emerged from the store, the tension in Eijirou’s shoulders relaxed only a fraction. Katsuki flipped him off as he approached, a small bag dangling from his middle finger like it was some shitty prize he’d won. Eijirou glanced at it warily.
“What else is in the bag?” Eijirou asked softly, cautious, testing the waters.
Katsuki’s expression softened just a little at the hesitation in his tone. He climbed onto the bike behind him, settling more gently than he had earlier, the heat of him pressing close again—finally—comforting in a way Eijirou desperately needed.
“S’nothing,” Katsuki muttered, voice a bit more vulnerable. “Old hag just handed me the bag so I wouldn’t walk out holding XL Magnums in front of some gawking extras.”
Eijirou snorted softly, turning slightly to look back at Katsuki over his shoulder, expression careful but lighter. “You shy all of a sudden?”
Katsuki rolled his eyes, lips curling into something barely softer than a scowl. “Fuckin’ embarrassed, maybe. Shit was humiliating.”
Something about Katsuki’s tone, open, honest, made Eijirou’s chest tighten sharply again. The lingering anger draining fully into regret.
He hesitated a second, then sighed. “Hey, Kat?”
Katsuki’s eyes flicked up, sharp but curious, as he stuffed the bag into the bike’s side compartment. “What?”
Eijirou swallowed, throat tight. “I’m sorry.”
Katsuki froze briefly, eyes narrowing slightly, suspicion warring with something softer behind them. “For?”
“For—fuck. For being an asshole,” Eijirou said, softer, almost defeated, voice thick with sincerity. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. It’s like…I dunno. Like I’m feral or something.”
He raised his arms over his head, stretching out some of the lingering tension from his shoulders, trying not to focus on how Katsuki’s eyes quickly dropped to the flex of his muscles before darting sharply back to his face.
Eijirou huffed softly, almost laughing at himself. “Maybe something bit me on that trip a month back. Like a rabid raccoon or something. Now I’m just angry and—fucking horny and I don’t even know.”
Katsuki’s mouth twitched, amusement seeping through the cracks in his guard, relief visible behind his careful gaze. He tilted his head slightly, studying him closely, skepticism tempered by genuine fondness.
“You’re not scared of water and you don’t have lockjaw,” Katsuki deadpanned, eyes glinting softly. “I still think you’re like a minute away from foaming at the mouth though.”
Eijirou’s lips curled into a tentative smile. “Is it fatal?”
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, visibly relaxing. “Rabies? Yeah, dumbass. Famously. You’re more like a dog who needs his nuts clipped.”
Eijirou laughed despite himself, shaking his head. “I’ll put it in my will. You get the bike.”
Katsuki’s mouth curled into something closer to a smirk now. “Banking on the rabies, huh?”
“Look,” Eijirou said seriously, smile still lingering, “I really like my nuts, Kat.”
“You’re in good company,” Katsuki murmured softly, eyes warm, humor returning more fully as the tension melted into something safer, more familiar. “Alright. Bike’s mine. Name’s on the dotted line.”
“And,” Eijirou continued, “My Crimson Riot collection goes back to my moms.”
Katsuki nodded fondly. “Done.”
Eijirou shifted slightly, pulse picking up a little as he tested the waters. “And you should probably make a silicone cast of my dick. You know, before its too late.”
Katsuki snorted sharply. “Jesus Christ, Ei.”
“Just,” Eijirou continued, fighting laughter but failing, “So you don’t start missing me too much.”
Katsuki tilted his head, eyes darkening subtly, expression suddenly sharper, more deliberate. “How much longer till I get the real thing, then?”
The playful tension shifted again instantly, tightening into something electric. Eijirou’s pupils blew wide, breath hitching, the lingering obsession roaring back in a rush of heat.
He licked his lips, fingers flexing impatiently. “I can get us home in fifteen.”
Katsuki raised an eyebrow, expression challenging, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Make it ten.”
Eijirou revved the engine, heat flooding his veins as Katsuki wrapped himself around him again, tighter this time, finally settling back into the closeness Eijirou had been craving.
“Done.”
And then they were flying down the road, tension shifting into something new. Still unresolved, but now accompanied by the sharp, thrilling relief of Katsuki’s body pressed tightly against his back, finally bridging the gap that had threatened to widen into something unfixable.
But even with Katsuki’s arms around him, even with the apology lingering warmly between them, Eijirou couldn’t stop his mind from spiraling back.
Because Katsuki had checked his phone obsessively. He'd been in that store too long, picking through condoms like he was trying to send a message. And Eijirou had to wonder if something more was happening. Something Katsuki hadn't told him yet.
Eijirou gripped the throttle tighter, anticipation coiling sharply in his gut.
Because maybe—just maybe—they’d both been hiding something deeper beneath the tension.
They pulled into the driveway faster than usual.
Eijirou had promised Katsuki ten minutes. He got them home in seven. He killed the engine, but even after he did, Katsuki stayed pressed against his back, silent, unmoving. For a second Eijirou held his breath, worried that somehow Katsuki had changed his mind again.
Then Katsuki let out a slow breath and relaxed into him fully, his forehead resting heavy against Eijirou’s shoulder, lips pressed gently between his shoulder blades.
“You win,” Katsuki murmured softly.
Eijirou felt something ease deep in his chest. “Yeah?”
Katsuki’s breath warmed his skin through the jacket. “Yeah. Now get me inside before someone calls the cops.”
Eijirou laughed quietly, relief washing over him. They got off the bike slowly, limbs still tense but movements deliberate, hands finding each other as they climbed the steps to their front door. Katsuki fumbled briefly with his keys, his hands steadier than before but still impatient, and Eijirou didn’t press, didn’t tease.
Not right now.
Inside, they shed jackets and helmets, tension thawing enough that it felt normal again—or almost normal. But as Katsuki moved around their kitchen, Eijirou’s gaze lingered, drifting over his body, obsessively cataloging every line and curve, imagining what could be beneath the clothes Katsuki wore so comfortably now.
It still haunted him, burned in the back of his throat like hunger.
Katsuki shot him a look, noticing his stare, but this time he didn’t snap. Instead, he softened slightly.
“Okay, Red. I wanna ignore it, I do. But I can’t.” Katsuki finally said, voice low and careful, testing the air between them. “We gonna talk, or we gonna pretend earlier didn’t happen?”
Eijirou stilled, eyes darting downward. “I—”
Katsuki sighed softly, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “You’ve been weird for a month. Then you get mean about my pills. The hell’s going on, Ei? I mean seriously, you say you want it then okay. You want it. Want what?”
Eijirou swallowed hard, fingers curling into fists at his sides, frustration and desperation twisting sharply through him.
“I want—fuck, I want you,” he finally said, voice rough. “I want you so bad I can’t even think straight. I’m sorry—I know I’ve been acting like a dick, I just don’t know how to handle this. It’s—”
Katsuki stared at him silently, jaw tightening slightly before his gaze softened around the edges, guardedness slipping away bit by bit. He tilted his head, waiting patiently.
Eijirou’s voice softened, vulnerable, honest. “When I hugged Sho, I felt—it was so real. So close. He’s happy. They’re happy. And all I could think was—fuck, Katsuki, that’s all I want. But not for them. For you. For us.”
Katsuki was silent for a long beat, eyes unreadable.
Eijirou’s heart slammed painfully against his ribs, tension thickening until he couldn’t breathe. But then Katsuki sighed softly, eyes flicking away.
“Christ, Ei,” he murmured, voice unsteady. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”
Eijirou stepped forward, cautiously closing the space between them. “I do,” he said quietly, voice raw with honesty. “I want you. All of it. I want you pregnant. I want you angry about it. I want to feel your belly and know you’re mine.”
Katsuki’s jaw tightened, eyes dropping downward as something unreadable flickered across his expression, but softening at the edges.
“I meant what I said,” Katsuki finally murmured, voice strained but not angry. “I’m not gonna end up barefoot and pregnant just 'cause you’ve lost your damn mind.”
“You say that,” Eijirou began carefully, hesitating slightly, “But I don’t think you really hate the idea..”
Katsuki laughed softly, bitterly, but didn’t move away. Instead, he looked away from Eijirou’s gaze. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”
But he didn’t deny it.
Silence settled briefly, tense and electric, until finally Katsuki sighed. “You really think you’re ready for that?” He asked quietly, almost uncertainly.
Eijirou reached out carefully, fingers brushing Katsuki’s waist, gentle, reverent. “I’ve never wanted anything more. And…and it’s obviously not just all of that—that shit. It’s…I want to have a family with you, Kat. That’s all I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and vulnerable. Eijirou’s voice wavered slightly, his fingers curling carefully into Katsuki’s waist, holding gently, almost tentatively, as if Katsuki might pull away any second.
But Katsuki didn’t move. He just stood there, studying Eijirou with quiet, guarded eyes, lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line.
Eijirou let out a shaky breath, his heart hammering loud enough that he wondered if Katsuki could hear it. His fingers tightened just a fraction, careful, like he was afraid of breaking something fragile between them.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he repeated, softer now. “Kids, family, all of it—but only with you. Always just with you.”
Katsuki exhaled slowly, and some of the tension left his body. His gaze flickered briefly downward, lashes casting shadows over his cheeks, and Eijirou saw something soften there, just slightly.
He stepped closer carefully, voice low, nearly a whisper now, like anything louder might shatter this fragile space between them.
“And I know you’d never end up like that,” he added gently. “You wouldn’t be like—like Ochaco, or Shouto, or anyone else. You’d still be you. Just…with a little more. And I want that. All of it. You. Us.”
Katsuki huffed softly, a short laugh that didn’t hold any real heat. “Yeah? You want me bitching at you at three in the morning 'cause I can't get comfortable? Crying over stupid commercials and threatening to kill you every five minutes?”
Eijirou laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine as he leaned in closer, pressing their foreheads gently together. "Yeah, Kat, that's exactly what I want."
He moved his hands slowly, carefully sliding them around Katsuki’s waist, fingers settling on the small of his back, pulling him in until there was barely space to breathe. Katsuki’s eyes flickered upward, meeting his gaze, wary but curious, the guarded edge softening just enough to let Eijirou in.
"I wanna wake up every morning with you pressed up against me," Eijirou murmured quietly, eyes heavy-lidded, voice rough with something achingly sincere. "Wanna roll over and see you still asleep, hair all messy, hand resting over a belly that's got something we made together. Wanna feel you kick me awake 'cause it's my fault you can't sleep right."
Katsuki huffed a quiet laugh, but Eijirou could feel the heat rise to his cheeks. His fingers tightened, tracing slow circles against Katsuki’s skin, feeling him relax into the touch, shoulders easing as the last of his defenses began to fall away.
"I wanna catch you staring at yourself in the mirror when you think no one’s looking," Eijirou continued softly, voice barely more than a whisper now, breath warm against Katsuki’s lips. "Watching the way your body changes, even though you'd never admit it. And I wanna tell you every single day how fucking beautiful you look. How perfect. How I’m gonna spend every second proving it."
"Rou…" Katsuki whispered, voice just beginning to tremble.
"I wanna watch your eyes go wide the first time you feel our baby kick, and pretend not to see you smile," he murmured tenderly. "I wanna feel you hold my hand so tight it hurts when it’s finally happening, and tell me how much you hate me while you're secretly holding back tears. I wanna hold our kid for the first time, right beside you, and know that we did that. You and me."
Katsuki’s breathing had shifted now, becoming shallow and uneven. His fingers curled into Eijirou’s shirt, eyes dark and shining, all pretense of annoyance stripped away, replaced by something softer, warmer, unguarded and completely raw.
"I want you pregnant, Kat," Eijirou confessed, finally giving voice to the deepest, most vulnerable part of his desire. "I want it more than anything. But I don't just want that. I want everything. The chaos, the sleepless nights, you yelling at me 'cause you're tired and sore and hungry. All of it. Because it's you. Because you're all I've ever wanted."
He swallowed hard, throat tight, heart racing as he pressed his lips softly against Katsuki’s, pouring everything he had into that one kiss, slow and reverent, achingly gentle and fiercely possessive.
“I also think,” he added against his lips. “That you would look insanely hot.”
Katsuki laughed against him, but there was something gentler there, something almost vulnerable, hidden beneath the stubborn surface. His hands came up slowly, hesitantly resting against Eijirou’s chest, palms flat.
“You’re fucked in the head,” Katsuki murmured quietly, shaking his head slightly, eyes finally lifting to meet Eijirou’s again.
Eijirou’s heart flipped hard in his chest, relief and hope and a thousand other things rushing through him all at once. He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, closing his eyes.
“Maybe,” Eijirou whispered, breath shaky, voice trembling with the intensity of it. “But it’s not changing.”
Katsuki huffed quietly, but didn’t move away. Instead, his hand rose to brush gently against Eijirou’s cheek, fingers gentle.
“Guess you’re stuck with me then,” Katsuki murmured softly.
Eijirou opened his eyes, heart racing, chest aching sweetly. “Yeah,” he whispered back, throat tight with emotion. “Lucky me.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki repeated, voice lower now, softened by something rare and fragile that made Eijirou's pulse kick faster. “Lucky you.”
Eijirou kissed him again, and this time, it wasn't careful or cautious. It was reckless, driven by the overwhelming need coursing hot and insistent through every nerve in his body. Katsuki met him immediately, mouth hungry and open, breathing him in like oxygen, like he needed Eijirou just to fucking breathe.
Their bodies pressed flush, skin warming rapidly under each desperate touch, fingers fumbling blindly, hands slipping beneath clothing, needing to feel bare skin, craving closer, more. Katsuki tugged impatiently at Eijirou's shirt, pulling him roughly towards the bedroom, stumbling slightly as their mouths refused to part, neither willing to yield even an inch of space.
The back of Katsuki’s knees hit the mattress, and they sank down together, bodies fitting seamlessly into familiar shapes, hearts beating in unison, racing like they'd forgotten how to slow down.
“Shit—” Katsuki muttered breathlessly, head tipping back as Eijirou’s mouth slid down his throat, tasting him slow and hot, deliberate enough to leave his knees weak.
Eijirou hummed softly against Katsuki’s skin, breath hot and uneven. He couldn't stop touching, hands tracing slowly, reverently, mapping every inch of Katsuki’s body like it was new again. His hands slid lower, pausing briefly against Katsuki’s waist, palms flat against warm skin, imagining once again how this moment would feel—would look—if things were different.
Katsuki’s breath stuttered, fingers digging sharply into Eijirou’s shoulders, body arching instinctively toward his touch. His eyes met Eijirou's, searching, cautious, vulnerable.
"Still want this?" Katsuki asked, voice raw, barely audible. "Even knowing I—knowing how I am?"
Eijirou felt something heavy and hot twist low in his chest. His heart hammered, throat suddenly dry, eyes locked onto Katsuki’s face, expression intense, unwavering.
"Yeah," he whispered, voice rough, unsteady. "Want you exactly how you are. Sharp edges, bad moods, yelling at me at 3 AM, all of it."
His hands slid lower, fingers brushing Katsuki's waist, gently gripping, pulling him flush, hips aligning, pressing together, the heat blooming between them again, immediate and insistent.
"And I want to see what you'd become—how you'd look, how you'd feel," Eijirou continued softly, breath hot against Katsuki's ear, voice rough with barely restrained desire. "I want to watch you change, feel you grow. Want you heavy and full and still so fucking stubborn, still fighting me every step of the way."
Katsuki’s breath caught audibly, and he shuddered against him, grip tightening, nails digging briefly into Eijirou’s shoulders. "Rou…"
Eijirou kissed the word away, mouth hungry, desperate, needy. The tension snapped, the world shrank down, and suddenly there was nothing else. Just the heat of Katsuki’s body against him, the way their breaths mingled, sharp, gasping, urgent, the way Katsuki's hands clutched at him, silently pleading for more.
Katsuki’s hands tightened into Eijirou’s hair, holding him firmly in place, refusing to let go as their mouths collided again. Messy, hungry, almost desperate in the way Katsuki’s breath hitched against Eijirou’s lips. It was all urgency, heat building faster than either of them could control.
Eijirou shifted above him, pressing their bodies flush, skin on skin, savoring the way Katsuki’s chest rose sharply, how his breath faltered with each movement. He was entirely lost in Katsuki’s touch, in the frantic rhythm they fell into so easily, perfectly, naturally.
But then something flashed across his mind—a distant, nagging worry that had been briefly forgotten in the haze of desire. Eijirou pulled back just enough to breathe, to try and force coherent thought back into his head.
“Wait—shit,” Eijirou murmured roughly, chest heaving as he stared down into Katsuki’s flushed face, the pink tint high across his cheeks. “The condoms—should we—”
Katsuki’s eyes widened slightly, something flickering behind his gaze, brief panic followed quickly by embarrassment, his fingers tightening almost possessively at Eijirou’s shoulders.
“Shit, Ei—listen, about that,” Katsuki began awkwardly, voice low, rough, guarded as his gaze flickered downward. “I, uh—I didn't actually buy them.”
Eijirou froze, heart skipping painfully, breath stuttering. “You didn’t—”
Katsuki glanced back up sharply, a little defensive, face flushed brighter. “No, I fucking didn't. It’s been years since we—since—fuck, you made it clear what you wanted, didn't you? Thought condoms would just—fuck. I just thought, I dunno. If you're serious, then I—"
He didn't get the chance to finish.
Eijirou surged forward, capturing Katsuki’s lips again, the kiss more frantic than before, consumed with relief and eagerness and something deeper. Hope. Raw and aching. His heart slammed against his ribs, breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts, fingertips pressing harder, pulling Katsuki impossibly close like if he let go, Katsuki might vanish entirely.
Katsuki groaned softly beneath him, melting instantly back into the kiss, arms wrapping tight around Eijirou’s neck, pulling him down to deepen the contact, the hesitation completely gone. His hips bucked up instinctively, chasing friction, chasing closeness, chasing the same reckless, intoxicating need surging violently between them.
“Fuck, Kat,” Eijirou whispered breathlessly against Katsuki’s mouth, voice thick, desperate, pleading. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“Because you were being fucking weird,” Katsuki muttered against his lips, the rough words muffled by another kiss. He wrapped his legs around Eijirou’s hips, holding tight, breath hitching as their bodies pressed closer, tighter. “Wasn't gonna say shit until you calmed the fuck down.”
Eijirou laughed, almost delirious, something hot and possessive surging sharply through his chest. “I’m calm,” he rasped, dragging his teeth gently along Katsuki’s jaw, savoring the shudder it drew out of him. “Totally calm.”
Katsuki snorted roughly, fingers tightening into Eijirou’s hair. “You're full of shit.”
But he didn’t pull away, didn’t move back, didn’t break the heated, dizzying momentum building steadily between them. If anything, he pressed in tighter, hips rocking up, searching for friction, for the steady pressure of Eijirou’s body against him.
Eijirou kissed him again, urgent, fierce, breathing him in deeply like he needed Katsuki just to keep himself sane. His hands moved slowly, tracing paths down Katsuki’s sides, reverently pressing against his waist, imagining again the softness, the warmth, the undeniable reality of Katsuki pregnant with their child, his chest tightening with need.
Eijirou’s voice trembled slightly, low and husky, full of barely contained desire. “No condoms means—”
“I know what it fucking means, Ei,” Katsuki breathed, voice quiet but firm, gaze steady, unyielding. “Don’t make me fucking say it again.”
Eijirou swallowed hard, eyes locked on Katsuki’s face. Flushed and determined and breathtakingly real beneath him.
“God, Kat,” Eijirou rasped softly, moving in closer, hips aligning again, aching for him, for this. “I want it. I want all of it—fuck, I want you so bad.”
Eijirou surged forward again, lips crashing against Katsuki’s with a force that made them both shudder. The words had barely left his mouth before they were swallowed between them, lost in the frantic slide of mouths and the press of bodies. Katsuki groaned against him, tilting his head just enough to let Eijirou deepen the kiss, to let him take, to let him devour.
Heat coiled low in Eijirou’s gut, an ache that had been burning for weeks, for months—hell, maybe for years without him even realizing it. The intensity of it, the depth of his need, felt overwhelming, almost unbearable, almost too much. But Katsuki was right there, giving it to him.
Eijirou’s hands moved of their own accord, fingers splaying wide against Katsuki’s waist, thumbs pressing into the sharp jut of his hips before smoothing downward, mapping the shape of him. The muscles beneath his touch were taut, trembling, alive. Katsuki was so warm, so fucking responsive, every shiver, every hitched breath pushing Eijirou further into this madness, this bottomless hunger that had taken root in his bones.
Katsuki gasped as Eijirou’s grip tightened, his own hands clawing at his back, nails biting in hard enough to sting. He wanted more. Eijirou could feel it in the way Katsuki kissed him—hungry, demanding, impatient.
“You’re—” Katsuki tried to speak between the frantic press of lips, but Eijirou cut him off with another deep, searching kiss, swallowing whatever he had been about to say. His hands slid lower, gripping Katsuki’s thighs, urging them to part wider as he settled between them, locking them together.
Katsuki whined, a sound Eijirou had never heard from him before, something wrecked and desperate, and it sent fire racing through his veins. He rolled his hips down, slow and deliberate, dragging a sharp gasp from Katsuki, his head tipping back against the pillows, baring the column of his throat.
Eijirou took it.
His lips traced the edge of Katsuki’s jaw, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt on his skin, teeth scraping just enough to make Katsuki twitch beneath him. He wanted to mark him, wanted to leave something behind, something visible, something real. His hands traveled up Katsuki’s sides, fingers curling against his ribs, imagining how they’d feel beneath his palms, stretched full and round.
Katsuki bucked against him, restless, needy, his breath coming fast, sharp. His thighs tightened around Eijirou’s waist, urging him closer, urging him deeper.
“Fuck,” Eijirou groaned, pressing his forehead against Katsuki’s, breathing him in, dizzy from it. “Kat, you feel so—”
“Shut up and keep going,” Katsuki gritted out, but there was no real bite to his words. Just raw want, just pure, unfiltered desire.
Eijirou grinned against his lips, dipping down to capture another kiss, slow and deep, dragging it out, savoring every second. He could feel the tension in Katsuki’s body, the way he was barely holding himself together, barely containing the sharp-edged need clawing at him.
Katsuki smirked against Eijrou’s lips, barely breaking away, voice low and teasing. “You gonna keep kissing me all night or are you actually gonna fuck me?”
Eijirou groaned, his grip tightening on Katsuki’s waist. “Don’t rush me,” he muttered, voice rough. “I wanna take my time with you.”
Katsuki huffed a soft, breathless laugh, his fingers threading through Eijirou’s hair, pulling just enough to make him hiss. “You say that like you’re not about to lose your damn mind.”
Eijirou bit down on Katsuki’s lower lip, making him gasp. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted, voice wrecked. “You feel too fucking good.”
Katsuki tilted his head back slightly, eyes half-lidded, breath unsteady. “Then do something about it.”
Eijirou dragged his lips down Katsuki’s throat, pressing slow, deliberate kisses against his pulse. “I will,” he murmured, hands sliding lower, kneading at Katsuki’s hips. “Gotta savor you first.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes but didn’t push him away. Instead, his legs tightened around Eijirou’s waist, pulling him closer. “S’not fair when you’re the one getting what you want.”
Eijirou lifted his head, looking down at him, pupils blown wide. “You think I’m the only one who wants this?”
Katsuki’s breath hitched, his fingers curling against Eijirou’s shoulders. His smirk faltered—just slightly—but his bravado remained. “Tch,” he scoffed, tilting his head so their lips barely brushed. “You tell me.”
Eijirou groaned low in his throat, running his tongue along the seam of Katsuki’s mouth before capturing him in another bruising kiss. He rocked against him, letting Katsuki feel just how much he wanted him, how deep it ran.
Katsuki shuddered, lips parting, his voice dropping into something wrecked and ragged. “Thought you wanted to knock me up.”
Eijirou’s entire body shook . A shiver ran up his spine so sharp he thought he’d break apart.
But, he didn’t answer him. Didn’t even give Katsuki the satisfaction of a real reaction.
Instead, he moved.
His lips dragged down Katsuki’s jaw, then lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the slope of his throat, feeling the way his pulse kicked up beneath his tongue. Katsuki shifted beneath him, hands flexing against Eijirou’s shoulders, gripping but not pulling, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to push him away or drag him closer.
Eijirou took his time. He wanted to. Needed to.
He let his mouth travel lower, teeth grazing the sharp line of Katsuki’s collarbone, then down the center of his chest. Every inch of him was burning—warm skin beneath his lips, the rise and fall of Katsuki’s breath, the sharp inhale when Eijirou’s tongue flicked over a sensitive spot just beneath his ribs.
“Teasin’ asshole,” Katsuki muttered, voice tight, breathless.
Eijirou hummed against his skin. Didn’t argue. Didn’t stop, either.
He kissed lower, hands trailing after his mouth, palms flattening against the muscle of Katsuki’s stomach, feeling the way it tensed beneath his touch. He lingered there, lips parting against warm skin, breathing him in, letting himself feel it. This body, this moment, this want coiled so tight it was suffocating.
He let his fingers slide beneath the waistband of Katsuki’s briefs, just barely, just enough to feel the heat waiting for him.
And then he saw it.
Dark fabric, soaked through.
Eijriou swore under his breath. Something sharp. Something possessive, hungry, twisted hot and tight in his gut as he reached out and touched. The contact was slippery.
Katsuki was already wrecked.
Already desperate.
Already so fucking wet for him.
Eijirou exhaled sharply, his lips brushing over the damp fabric as he leaned in, pressing the faintest kiss against his leaking cunt, right there, right where he needed him most.
Katsuki’s eager hole twitched in response and his breath hitched as his fingers dug into Eijriou’s hair. Steady. Unshaking. And for the first time tonight, his voice wasn’t taunting.
“Rou,” Katsuki breathed, said it like a plea. Like a warning.
Eijirou didn’t answer. Didn’t need to answer.
Instead Eijirou just smirked against the still clothed swollen cock pressing through the damp fabric. His breath ghosted over the heat of him waiting, dragging it out.
Katsuki pushed a breath out sharply. “Eiji—”
Eijirou didn’t let him finish. Didn’t give him time to talk, to rush him, to tell him what he already knew.
Instead, he opened his mouth and pressed in.
Soft at first. Just lips. Just the warmth of his breath against sensitive skin. Then just opened mouthed lazy languid kisses against the soaked fabric as he memorized the feel of his folds against his lips. Against his tongue lolling out of his mouth and lapping up all he can. It was all lilty, drifting in and out, just hints of pressure before pulling back where he knew Katsuki wanted more.
His tongue shot out to catch the next rush of slick as it pooled into his briefs, pressing the fabric into his hole to gather more. He’s taken to long broad stripes across him. Laving at his hole and tracing up to his aching cock where he brought his lips together and sucked.
Katsuki tasted like salt and warmth, his skin fever-hot beneath Eijirou’s mouth, slick from exertion and the weight of the moment pressing down on them. The ridges of muscle along his stomach twitched under Eijirou’s palms, a breathy exhale slipping through his teeth as Katsuki’s body adjusted to the new rhythm, to the slow and steady worship of it all.
He felt Katsuki’s whole body tense beneath him. Felt the shudder in his thighs, the way his grip in Eijirou’s hair tightened, like he was trying not to beg.
So Eijirou gave him more.
The squelching wet sound of more slick inking out was filthy mixed with Katsuki’s moans reaching the rafters as Eijirou’s tongue danced across his cock in quick swipes. He moaned into it, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure up Katsuki’s spine as he arched into him and pulled his head in closer until Eijirous’ nose was buried into Katsuki’s mound. He could feel the prickle of ash blonde hair through the fabric and the taste of salt and heat made his heart fucking sing.
“Shit,” Katsuki hissed, breath uneven, hips twitching ever forward.
Eijirou groaned against him, rewarding him with another deep press as the heat of his mouth once closed over him completely. Even if only for a second, just enough for Katsuki to really feel it as his tongue swiped from his greedy hole to his twitching cock.
Katsuki’s breath hitched. His fingers yanked slightly at Eijirou’s hair, just enough to sting, just enough to make some sort of thrill rush down Eijirou’s spine.
“Fuck, you’re—” Katsuki cut himself off, biting his lip and swallowing back whatever it was he was about to say.
Eijirou knew what it was.
Knew what Katsuki wanted.
Knew how badly he wanted to give it to him.
So he moved. Mouthing at him again, dragging his lips along every inch of sensitive skin, feeling the heat of his soaking wet cunt seep into his tongue, feeling the way Katsuki’s whole body reacted to every touch.
And Katsuki—fuck—he was coming apart beneath him. Breath heavy, muscles coiled tight like he was about to snap.
Eijirou let his teeth scrape, just barely, over him and Katsuki twitched. A sharp hard full body jerk that sent heat curling low in Eijirou’s stomach.
The sound that Katsuki made wasn’t quite a moan, wasn’t quite a curse. Just a raw bitten off sort of exhale, his whole body tensing like he was trying to stay in control.
Like he was fighting it.
Eijirou grinned against him, not letting up.
He dragged his mouth along his heat, slow, the way that would drive Katsuki insane. The way that left heat pooling in his gut. His fingers dug into Katsuki’s hips, holding him still, to keep him from chasing more.
Katsuki growled out instead, impatient. “Rou—”
Eijirou made a vague sound of acknowledgement from the back of his throat and he hoped it came off indignantly as his tongue stiffened to trace up and down the length of his clothed lips. Dipping and teasing from the hole to gather up more sopped up slick on his tongue and then back to his poor cock that was just begging for attention as he circled it with his still stiff tongue.
He barely had a second to react before Katsuki’s thighs twitched at his sides, trying to shift forward, trying to grind into his mouth.
With a splayed firm hand to his lower stomach, Eijirou held him down. To keep him exactly where he wanted him.
Katsuki gasped, a breathy sound that might’ve been a moan if he weren’t so damn stubborn.
“Fucking—” Katsuki bit off his own words, his jaw clenching like he was holding something back.
Eijirou pressed another slow, heated kiss against him, mouthing at him in a way that made Katsuki’s breath hitch hard.
The need in him curled hot and tight. He could feel it building, could hear it in Katsuki’s breathing, in the way his thighs trembled, in the way his fingers curled and uncurled in Eijirou’s hair like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to push him closer or pull him away.
Eijirou added more pressure to where he had him, his hold was possessive as Katsuki finally gave in.
“Fuck, baby,” He cried, voice wrecked and breaking on the syllables.
Eijirou groaned low and satisfied as he felt something in his chest tighten. Feeling something give in Katsuki’s resistance. Like he was finally—finally—losing the battle against himself.
And fuck if that wasn’t the hottest thing Eijirou has ever seen.
Katsuki’s breath hitched, sharp and uneven, his fingers twitching where they clawed into Eijirou’s hair. Cause somewhere between pulling him closer and pushing him away.
But Eijirou held him down, kept him right there, right on the edge of his breaking point where he was shaking with the need for more.
“You’re always this needy for me, aren’t you, baby boy?” Eijirou teased, voice rough against his skin, muffled by the heat of his own mouth.
Katsuki growled, breath ragged. “Shut the fuck up.”
Eijirou grinned, letting his tongue flicker out enough again just to make Katuski twitch. His hips jerked instinctively. Katsuki let out a curse, low and sharp, hands shoving at Eijirou’s shoulders. But it lacked any real force. His thighs quivered where they bracketed Eijirou’s head, his body so completely caught between frustration and desperation that it made something dark and satisfied curl in Eijirou’s gut.
“You sure?” Eijirou taunted, voice warm, teasing, his hands sliding up Katsuki’s hips, feeling every tense muscle beneath his fingertips. “I think you like it when I take my time.”
Katsuki let out a harsh exhale, almost a whimper, like the words hit him in the exact right place. His fingers twitched again, grip weakening, like he wanted to fight but couldn’t find the strength anymore.
Eijirou hummed, pleased.
Then he dove back in.
“Fuck,” Ejirou groaned as he pushed the abused briefs to the side and spread Katsuki’s lips open. God his cunt is gorgeous. Always so puffy and pink and wet and ready for him. He experimented with two fingers dragging down the length of his lips. Then he surged forward and sucked on his throbbing cock just hard enough for Katsuki’s hips to buck up from the bed. He gave a short quick suck before pulling off with a satisfying pop and diving back in to stick his tongue in his hole. Only pulling back out to say, “Fuck you taste so fucking good for me, Kat baby.”
Katsuki choked on a sound, his whole body jerking. This time toward Eijirou, not away. His hands, shaking, finally gave up the fight, dragging through Eijirou’s hair instead. Not to pull him back, but to hold him there.
And fuck, that did something to Eijirou.
Because Katsuki wasn’t fighting anymore. He was giving in.
Letting Eijirou take what he wanted.
Letting himself be taken apart piece by piece.
The next sound out of him was ruined, low and wrecked, and Eijirou couldn’t help the groan that rumbled up from deep in his chest, couldn’t stop himself from gripping tighter, from pressing in deeper, from making sure Katsuki felt every second of it.
Katsuki’s hips twitched, pressing into his mouth like he couldn’t help himself anymore, like he was finally done pretending he didn’t want this as badly as Eijirou did.
Eijirou lost it.
Completely.
He’d been taking his time, savoring every second. But the way Katsuki was falling part underneath him, the way he stopped fighting it, stopped pretending he didn’t want it, that was enough to snap whatever fragile hold Eijirou had left on his self-control.
He was done waiting.
His hands moved fast, rough, slipping under Katsuki’s trembling thighs, gripping tight as he hauled him closer, pressing him flush against his mouth, swallowing down every sound Katsuki couldn’t keep in anymore.
Katsuki gasped, the sound wrecked, half a curse, half a plea. His head fell back, baring his throat as his fingers tightened in Eijirou’s hair.
Eijirou groaned, low and raw, and before he could even think about it, his hands were already moving. Dragging up the backs of Katsuki’s thighs, hooking them over his shoulders and pinning him there completely at his mercy.
Then without warning, he tore himself away.
Katsuki gasped sharply, yelping at the sudden loss. His fingers yanking at Eijrou’s hair in protest.
“The fuck—?” Katsuki half-growled, breathless and glaring up at him. Still half-gone. Still half-drunk on the attention.
But Eijirou was already moving. Already reaching for Katsuki’s ruined briefs, already gripping the waistband and dragging them down in one smooth motion.
The sound of the fabric sliding down Katsuki’s legs was deafening, loud in the hot open air, punctuated by Katsuki’s sharp inhale as his cunt was fully exposed to the room’s chill.
Eijirou barely had time to breathe, barely had time to process the sight of Katsuki finally bare beneath him before he was already reaching for his own waistband, already yanking at his belt, already desperate to close the last gap between them.
Katsuki, panting, chest rising and falling too fast, eyes locked onto him, watched him pull his shirt off, watched the desperation in his hands, watched him finally, finally, finally give in completely.
“Fuck,” Katsuki muttered, voice low, almost shaky, his hands dragging over Eijirou’s shoulders, his chest, his stomach, feeling the way his muscles tensed, feeling how badly he wanted this.
Eijirou’s fingers twitched at his belt buckle, hands almost too shaky to work it open, so Katsuki helped.
Slapped his hands away, gripped the leather himself, and pulled it open with one sharp tug.
Eijirou’s breath hitched, his head dropping, forehead pressing against Katsuki’s bare thigh as Katsuki’s fingers made quick work of the zipper, pushing fabric down until Eijirou was just as bare as him.
Eijirou let out a low, shaky breath, his grip tightening hard enough to bruise. He pressed his forehead against Katsuki’s thigh, sucking in air like he wasn’t completely about to lose his mind.
Because Katsuki was bare beneath him now, panting, eyes dark, lips kiss-swollen, legs already spread wide and fuck—
God, he looked even more ruined from this vantage point. His lips were glistening in a thin layer of slick as his hole clenched around nothing and his swollen cock peered out from its hood.
His hands slid lower, gripping at Katsuki’s hips, fingers pressing into the firm muscle there. Feeling the heat of him, feeling how Katsuki was already shifting, already anticipating what was to come next.
Eijirou groaned, low and rough in his chest, pressing a kiss to the inside of Katsuki’s knee and trailing his lips up following the slow shiver that ran through him as he moved.
“You ready, baby boy?” Eijirou asked, voice wrecked as he was barely keeping it together.
Katsuki sucked in a ragged breath, his fingers twitching against the sheets, his thighs tension beneath Eijirou’s grip.
“Stop— ah—” Katsuki hissed, voice frustrated and already shaky with want. “—Acting like you give a shit about foreplay and just—”
Eijriou cut him off with one slow careful press of his fingers into his hole.
Katsuki’s entire body jerked, a sharp inhale punched out of his chest, his head tipping back against the pillow.
“Shit—” Katsuki’s hands flew up, grabbing Eijirou’s shoulders, fingers digging in, Dragging him in closer. Gripping like he needed something to hold onto
Eijirou smirked, pressing a second kiss to the inside of Katsuki’s thigh as he curled his fingers just slightly watching Katsuki’s body react instantly.
His jaw clenched, breath hitching, muscles twitching like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to push away or pull him in.
“Oh you care,” Eijirou murmured, pumping in and out of him lazily as he dragged his mouth higher. Pausing just at the crease of his thigh and exhaling warmth against the already flushed skin.
Katsuki growled, hands gripping tighter, breath staggering as he sucked in short, sharp inhales.
“I will kill you—” Katsuki threatened, voice breaking slightly on the last word, his hips twitching forward, chasing the sensation, the stretch, the slow build of pressure.
Eijirou laughed, pressing one final kiss right over his hipbone before dragging his fingers in deeper.
Katsuki’s breath hitched sharply, his legs jerking, his entire body shuddering, and he bit down hard on his lower lip, like he was trying to keep a noise from escaping.
Eijirou saw it.
And he didn’t fucking like that.
“Let me hear you, baby,” Eijirou murmured, voice low, coaxing, pressing his thumb just right, tipping his fingers just deeper. Searching.
Katsuki cursed sharply, breath stuttering, his head pressing back into the mattress, fingers twitching where they gripped at Eijirou’s shoulders.
Eijirou smirked against his skin. “Atta boy,” he murmured, satisfied, his own voice ragged, barely keeping himself together
Katsuki’s breath was coming hard and fast, each exhale shaky, each inhale punched out of him, like he was barely holding himself together.
His hands had tightened in Eijirou’s hair, fingers tangling, pulling, his hips twitching up towards every press. Every curl. Every slow teasing drag of Eijirou’s fingers inside his slippery hole. Probing and stroking. Lazily fingerfucking his cunt.
“Rou—” Katsuki gritted out, voice strained, his knuckles white against Eijirou’s shoulders.
Eijirou hummed as he watched the way Katsuki’s body arched, the way his stomach tensed, the way his thighs shook.
Katsuki groaned, tossing his head against the pillows. His fingers dug tighter as he fought against the hot drag of Eijirou’s fingers as they found his g-spot and fucked into it.
“Oh fuck me,” Katsuki bit down on his lip, his hips jerking forward, chasing the sensation. Grinding against Eijirou’s hand like he couldn’t stop himself. “Fuck, I’m close. Fuck I’m gonna come. Eiji, I’m gonna come.”
Eijirou smirked, pressing a slow and deliberate kiss to the inside of his thigh as he murmured. “Thought you wanted me to stop wasting time, baby.”
Katsuki let out a frustrated and wrecked noise, his chest rising and falling too fast, his breath borderline ragged.
Eijirou grinned against his skin, drinking in how badly he wanted it.
“C’mon, baby,” Eijirou coaxed it out of him. Katsuki was overheating and twitching as Eijirou brought his thumb between his folds and pressed against his protruding cock. He pistoned his fingers in and out of his hole, jabbing them into the sensitive nerves over and over and over as he practically begged. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”
Katsuki lost control of his body, legs twitching and sounds pushing out from his chest that Eijirou has never heard before. Something low and desperate and damn near whiny. Something that made his pulse slam against his ribs, something that made his own breath hitch in response.
“Rou, please—” He rasped, voice wrecked. Raw desperation dripping from every syllable. Eijirou’s entire body locked up tight, something deep inside him snapping like a live wire, every muscle coiling in anticipation.
“What was that, baby?” Eijirou whispered, barely able to get the words out. “Say that again?”
Katsuki let out a sharped choked sound as Eijirou pistoned abused his poor hole with his ring and middle finger while rubbing tight little circles against his cock with his thumb. Katsuki’s fingers were clutching at him, nails biting into skin.
“Rou, I—fuck, please. I need you. I need it. Don’t—tease me. Just do it, please—please” Katsuki cut himself off, frustration bleeding into his voice. He was begging, words half-ragged, breathless and filthy. “I need to come. I’m gonna come. Please. Ah. Ah. I’m coming! Fuck I’m coming!”
Eijirou’s pulse slammed into overdrive. Every nerve in his body was on fire, searing with the rawness of it. His entire chest felt too tight, too full, too hot with how badly he wanted to fuck Katsuki. How badly he needed to fuck Katsuki.
Katsuki’s body was drawn taught, muscles twitching under Eijirou’s touch and the way he trembled under him, the way his breath caught, the way he was already reaching, already tilting his head back against the pillows like he was already half gone was fucking intoxicating.
Eijirou’s throat was dry, his own breaths shaky and uneven. He could barely think past the sheer weight of Katsuki beneath him, wanting waiting and open as he came apart beneath him.
His grip tightened at Katsuki’s waist, fingers pressing in like he could brand himself there. Like he could bury himself in the heat. In the overwhelming suffocating need. “I got you, baby boy,” he rasped. Voice thick and strained as he watches more and more wetness gather on his palm. Slick gushing from Katsuki’s cunt. “Let it go. Just like that. Just like that. Fuck you’re so perfect for me. So fucking perfect for me.”
His hole clenched around him so tight that Eijrou could barely move his fingers. Heat and pressure wrapping around him so tightly that he thought for a second that he’d lost his mind. That his body had stopped functioning right. And, that his breath had been stolen out from his lungs by the sheer feel of it.
Katsuki’s cunt was sopping wet and the slickness pooled beneath him, sinking the sheets into a mess of dark wet warmth. He was making sounds he’d never hear before, sounds that curled into Eijirou’s lungs, his heart, his fucking bones.
Eijirou squeezed his eyes shut, tried to pace himself and failed immediately.
At the first chance he could, he pulled his hand away. Only to be met with a wrecked “Eiji—” before shifting to replace his fingers with his cock. He needed to feel it. Katsuki was so hot, so tight, so fucking perfect around his fingers and Eijirou swore he could feel his heartbeat hammering inside of him.
He wanted to be inside Katsuki in every sense of the word.
Eijirou’s cock was leaking precum and he made quick work in spreading it all over the tip before lining it up with Katsuki’s over eager hole. It was still spurting slick and clenching around nothing. He got close enough to tap the tip into the sticky mess left behind and painted the slick across his glistening folds with his cockhead before pushing in slow.
Katsuki let out a choked groan, head tipped back, chest heaving. His fingers twisted in Eijirou’s shoulders, clutching himself as he took him in. As he adjusted and let him settle deep.
Eijirou exhaled sharply, forehead dropping against Katsuki’s collarbone, body trembling from restraint. From the sheer fucking euphoria of having Katsuki around him. Breathing him in. Tasting him on his tongue. Feeling him shudder under his hands. He pressed his lips to the damp skin of Katsuki’s throat and breathed him in.
Katsuki was unraveling.
Eijirou could feel it in the way he twitched under him, in the way his breath kept stuttering, in the way his body fought between tensing and melting.
Eijirou wasn’t moving yet, he just wanted to stay like this, just for a second. Just to let it sink in. Just to feel him.
Katsuki, his.
Katsuki, stretched around him, pulling him deeper, taking him like he was meant for it.
The thought nearly undid him like it always did.
Eijirou gritted his teeth, forced himself to still. He had to hold back, had to keep from completely losing himself, had to—
Katsuki shifted beneath him, impatient. His legs tightened, his grip turned bruising, and his voice, wrecked and sharp and barely holding together, sent a shock straight through Eijirou’s spine.
“Move, Ei—”
Eijirou groaned, voice breaking, and obeyed.
He dragged his cock out of him till just the tip was intruding before pushing back in hard and fast as a gasp was pushed out from Katsuki’s lungs. He found a steady rhythm after that, one that had him meeting every single one of Katsuki’s grinds as he pushed back against him. Begging for more.
The world narrowed down to this. Only this. Just this.
Katsuki, hot and tight beneath him, breath hitching with every slow deliberate roll of Eijirou’s hips.
Eijirou couldn’t think straight, could barely breathe. Could only focus on the way Katsuki felt around him, the way his body responded to him, the way his fingers clutched at Eijirou’s back, dragging him closer, deeper.
He tried to pace himself but Katsuki…Katsuki wasn’t helping.
Because he was impatient. Always impatient. Always wanting more before Eijirou was ready to give it.
Because Katsuki arched into him, hips tilting up, pulling him in tighter, thighs squeezing like he was trying to keep him there forever.
Because Katsuki’s breathless voice, half-laughing, half-daring, spilled against Eijirou’s lips:
“Rou, you—” Katsuki’s breath hitched as Eijirou ground into him deeper, making him tremble, making his fingers twitch where they clung to Eijirou’s shoulders. His next words came out softer, less controlled. “—You gonna knock me up or what?”
Eijirou groaned deep in his throat, a sound low, raw, wrecked.
Katsuki was fucking killing him.
Because he was saying it like he wanted it just as bad.
Like he wasn’t just letting Eijirou have this, but that he needed it too.
Like he wanted to be filled up.
Like he wanted to be claimed.
And fuck, Eijirou couldn’t—
He pulled back, just barely, just enough to look Katsuki in the eye, to see the wreckage there, to see the way he was already falling apart beneath him.
He couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words, could only look at him, could only see him—flushed, sweat-damp, panting, needy.
And Katsuki just stared right back at him, sharp and wrecked and so goddamn beautiful it hurt.
Then Katsuki’s fingers slid up the back of Eijirou’s neck, gripping, pulling him in.
Then Katsuki kissed him.
It was messy, sloppy, unfocused—all clashing teeth and tangled breaths, no finesse, just hunger.
Eijirou groaned into it, barely holding himself together, feeling the heat build, the need coiled tighter, tighter, tighter.
Katsuki’s legs tightened around his waist, forcing him deeper, closer.
Eijirou’s hands trembled, sliding down Katsuki’s sides, gripping his hips, pulling him in, locking him in place.
Katsuki moaned into his mouth, and that was it—
Eijirou lost himself completely.
His control snapped, his rhythm quickened, his movements turned desperate.
The world tilted, everything blurring at the edges, everything fading except for the overwhelming heat of Katsuki against him.
Eijirou buried his face in the crook of Katsuki’s neck, panting, clinging, moving faster now, chasing something inevitable, something undeniable. His pace quickened, his grip on Katsuki tightened, his breathing turned shallow and uneven. He was wrecked. Every squeeze of Katsuki’s thighs around him sent his mind spiraling deeper.
He was too far gone now and his brain was working against him.
Because the fantasies were back, louder, clearer.
Katsuki, already looking so good like this, would look even better flushed. Swollen. Full. Carrying something real. Katsuki, straddling him in bed, belly full and heavy, grinding down with slow lazy rolls of his hips. Telling EIjirou that this was his fault that he had to deal with it and that he had to give him what he needed.
Katsuki, pinned beneath him, flushed and panting, voice lower than usual, thick with something new, something needier than before. Katsuki, hissing through his teeth as Eijirou ran slow, careful hands over his chest, over the way it had filled out, heavier, more sensitive. Katsuki, letting Eijirou push up his shirt, let him cup, let him thumb over darkened skin just to watch the way Katsuki’s body reacted to it, how he bit back a noise, how his thighs clenched. "Stop fucking staring," Katsuki would mutter, breathless, wrecked. And Eijirou would just grin against his collarbone, pressing deeper. "Can’t help it, baby. You’re fucking perfect."
Katsuki, trying to keep up with him, trying to keep control, trying to fight against how sensitive he had become. Katsuki, gritting his teeth as he rocked forward, thighs trembling, hissing a curse because his balance was different now, his body responding in ways he hadn’t expected. Katsuki, eyes flashing with frustration, gripping at Eijirou’s shoulders and snapping, "You’re enjoying this too much." And Eijirou, barely holding himself back, groaning, "Yeah, baby, I fucking am." Because Katsuki was a goddamn vision like this, because everything about him was different but still the same, still Katsuki, still his. And Eijirou wanted to ruin him.
Eijirou groaned, something desperate and wrecked escaping from his throat. His fingers dug in, his hips snapped harder, faster, chasing something inevitable.
And then he said it.
Didn’t think, didn’t breathe, just…said it.
“Fuck, Kat—” His voice was raw, unsteady, breaking apart as he thrust into him rough and desperate. “You’d look so fucking good carrying my baby.”
Katsuki shuddered beneath him as a sharp gasp ripped from him. His fingers clawed at Eijirou’s shoulders, his legs locking tighter around his waist.
Eijirou felt it, the way the way Katsuki reacted, the way he tilted his head back, panting, gripping at him, gasping for breath.
He fucking felt it.
So he kept going.
"You’d be so full," he groaned, the thought making him ache, making him lose his rhythm, making his body move on instinct alone. "So fucking soft, so round. Fuck—just wanna see you like that. Wanna feel you like that."
Katsuki let out a choked noise, something close to a moan, close to a plea.
Eijirou pressed in closer, mouthing at his throat, dragging his lips along the sweat-damp skin, feeling the way Katsuki trembled against him.
"Can you picture it, Kat?" Eijirou panted, voice low, rough, desperate. "You, walking around with my kid in you? Fucking showing? Wouldn’t even be able to hide it after a while—everyone would know. They’d all see exactly what I did to you."
Katsuki whined, loud and broken.
And fuck, fuck, fuck.
That sound went straight to Eijirou’s head, straight to his gut, made him thrust harder, faster, rougher.
"You’d let me keep you like that, wouldn’t you?" Eijirou’s voice was a growl now, something deep, primal, uncontrollable. "Fuck, you’d let me keep you full, keep you mine, keep you exactly how you’re supposed to be."
Katsuki let out a breathless, wrecked, “Yes, fuck, yes—” before his words dissolved into another moan, his head tilting back further, his nails raking down Eijirou’s back.
Eijirou swore, his vision blurring at the edges, his entire body coiled tight, tight, too fucking tight.
"You want that?" Eijirou pressed, panting against Katsuki’s mouth, his hands gripping hard enough to bruise.
Katsuki nodded frantically, voice barely more than a choked whimper.
"Say it," Eijirou demanded, breathless, desperate, knowing he was so, so close now. "Tell me you want it."
Katsuki’s eyes cracked open, his face wrecked, flushed, utterly undone. His voice came out rough, gasping, broken as he rasped—
"Fuck me full, Rou. Make it fucking take."
Eijirou was done for.
Katsuki’s words had destroyed him, ripped through him like a wildfire, left him burning, unraveling, spiraling too fast to stop.
His entire body coiled tight, every muscle locking up, his nerves on fire. The heat of Katsuki wrapped around him, pulling him in, drawing him deeper, made him feel like he was being swallowed whole, consumed.
And Katsuki—fuck, Katsuki.
His nails dug in, his voice broke apart, his breath stuttered, body arching up, pressing closer, clinging tight.
The tension inside Eijirou snapped hard, sudden, all-consuming.
The rush was instant, overwhelming, white-hot. His vision blurred, his chest locked up, his body jerked forward, his hands gripping onto Katsuki like an anchor.
The world shattered around him as that same white-hot pressure built up inside of him. His fingers dug bruises into Katsuki’s hips as his orgasm surged through him, ripping him apart. Leaving him wreck and completely, utterly spent.
He looked down in time to see it, dribbles of come and slick mix and dripped out from Katsuki’s spent hole, only being contained by Eijiriou’s still pulsating cock.
Katsuki shuddered beneath him, muscles tensing as he let out a low, breathless groan, his legs locking tighter, his arms wrapping around Eijirou’s shoulders, holding him close, keeping him there.
Eijirou barely had the presence of mind to breathe.
His pulse thundered, his body felt heavy, too hot, too sensitive, his senses overloaded. The only thing grounding him was the feeling of Katsuki wrapped around him, beneath him, holding onto him.
The aftershocks rolled through him, warm and slow and dizzying as he fucked into him lazily.
Katsuki was still trembling, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps, his fingers still curled tight in Eijirou’s hair.
They stayed like that for a moment, neither moving, neither speaking.
Just breathing.
Just feeling.
Eijirou’s forehead dropped against Katsuki’s shoulder, his own breath still shaky, still catching up to what had just happened.
The heat between them was suffocating, intoxicating, unbearable in the best way.
Katsuki exhaled softly, his hands slowly easing up, sliding down the length of Eijirou’s back, his touch a little dazed, a little lazy.
Eijirou could still feel it—all of it.
Could still feel the warmth pooling low, the weight of it settling deep inside Katsuki, spreading between them, keeping them connected.
And fuck, fuck, fuck.
It felt right.
It felt so fucking right.
His fingers skated over Katsuki’s sides, down to his stomach, tracing slow, aimless patterns against the sweat-damp skin.
Katsuki exhaled sharply, something like a shudder rolling through him, his fingers twitching where they still rested against Eijirou’s shoulders.
They still weren’t moving.
Still weren’t speaking.
Just existing in this space, just feeling everything settle, just letting the weight of it sink in, take root, linger.
Eijirou let out a slow, deep breath, his lips pressing softly against Katsuki’s collarbone, his heartbeat still erratic, still pounding.
The world outside didn’t exist.
Not right now.
Not when this moment stretched between them, thick and heavy, settling deep into Eijirou’s bones.
They lay tangled together on the bed, their breathing ragged, heavy, and uneven. Eijirou’s head rested gently against Katsuki’s stomach, cheek pressed to heated skin, the faint, rapid flutter of Katsuki’s pulse thrumming beneath him.
For the first time in weeks, Eijirou felt like he could breathe again. He felt something loosen in his chest. The desperation, the hunger, the obsessive, relentless need finally soothed, if only temporarily.
But the moment didn’t last.
Because he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t stop the question from slipping out into the silence, quiet but hopeful.
“You think it took?”
Katsuki let out a rough, exhausted laugh beneath him, body shaking lightly with amusement and disbelief. “Course I fucking don’t,” he scoffed softly. “I’m already late.”
Eijirou froze.
The words echoed, sharp and sudden, slicing through his exhausted haze and jerking him back to full awareness.
His mind was blank. Completely, entirely blank.
He lifted himself slightly, confusion flickering through him as he propped himself up, gaze locking onto Katsuki’s face.
“You—wait,” Eijirou stammered, eyes wide, heart suddenly racing. He shifted upward, leaning over Katsuki, pulse pounding in his ears. “Your—your pill? Late? You’re—late?”
Katsuki rolled his eyes tiredly, but the faintest blush dusted his cheeks as he refused to meet Eijirou’s gaze, staring resolutely up at the ceiling instead. “It’s the sixth, right?” He exhaled sharply, expression strangely uncertain as Eijirou nodded. “Yeah, about a full month past due then. Like, four weeks?”
Four weeks. He did the mental math in his head.
Four weeks since the camping trip. Since the moment everything changed.
Since Katsuki had cut himself off mid-sentence, eyes going glassy, voice catching on something he hadn’t meant to say.
Since the shower, when Katsuki had touched his lower stomach and frowned slightly. A moment so brief that Eijirou almost hadn’t noticed. But he had. He had.
Fuck even that morning when Katsuki had slept later than usual. Or the restaurant since Katsuki’s fingers went tense on the glass of water like he couldn’t even look at the food in front of them.
It had been there all along. Right in front of them.
Katsuki had known.
Or—no. Not known. But at least began to suspect something by the time they were at the restaurant. Suspected enough to say nothing and to let Eijirou spiral, let him fumble with half-baked denials as he was sitting on the truth the whole time.
Eijirou’s mind spun, still counting backward frantically, trying to process the words Katsuki had so casually dropped like a grenade between them. “Four weeks?”
“That’s what a month is, yeah,” Katsuki muttered dryly, finally glancing down to meet his gaze. He reached out, gently knocking his knuckles against Eijirou’s temple. “Jesus, there really is nothing going on up there, huh?”
Eijirou ignored the teasing jab, mind still racing. “But—but your pill—”
“Ninety-six percent effective, Red” Katsuki murmured quietly, tone softer now, eyes shifting away again, uncertainty clouding them. “Four percent chance. That’s why I got the fucking tests.”
Eijirou’s heart slammed painfully against his ribs. He sat up slowly, staring down at Katsuki with wide, stunned eyes. “You bought tests?”
Katsuki had thought about it. Katsuki had been thinking about it. Katsuki had been thinking about it this entire fucking time.
Or at least for the last…two and a half hours.
“I told you I didn’t buy condoms,” Katsuki scoffed softly, expression growing guarded again, though his voice had lost the biting edge. “Not like I know yet, dumbass. It might be nothing. Probably is.”
But the uncertainty lingered, settling thickly between them.
Four weeks late.
Four weeks since he’d lost his mind, since the idea had sunk into him and refused to let go. And, Katsuki had been late that entire time, had been quietly wrestling with this possibility without ever saying anything.
“Four weeks,” Eijirou whispered, realization dawning with awe. Hope. Terror. “That’s—that could be—”
Katsuki sighed quietly, exhaustion creeping into his voice as he pushed himself up slightly, resting on one elbow. “Yeah. Could be the trip” he murmured softly. Then he added ,tone gentler, “Totally was the trip.”
Eijirou’s pulse quickened again, an uncontrollable grin breaking slowly across his face, stunned laughter bubbling out of him, breathless and disbelieving. “I FUCKING KNEW IT!”
Katsuki rolled his eyes but smiled softly, the tension finally breaking as he relaxed visibly. “Yeah, okay, settle down, asshole.”
But Eijirou was already moving, leaning in and kissing Katsuki fiercely, desperate and joyful, relief and excitement all tangled together. Katsuki laughed quietly against his mouth, hands rising to thread gently into Eijirou’s hair, holding him close.
He let out a long, slow breath against Eijirou’s lips, but his body had suddenly gone slightly tense. Not the good king of tension either. It was the kind that meant his brain had started to move a little too fast.
Eijirou felt the shift from post-orgasm bliss to something sharper, heavier, more real in real-time.
Katsuki’s gaze flickered, his breath slowed, his hold on him eased just enough. The weight of four weeks, of every missed day, of every tiny insignificant moment that suddenly mattered.
Eijirou swallowed, his own heart still beating hard, his mind still racing with the realization.
“So,” he started, just barely above a whisper. “Four weeks…I knew that trip was a good idea.”
Katsuki sighed through his nose and his hands twitched against Eijirou’s skin before he suddenly pushed at his shoulders firmly.
“Move.”
Eijirou blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
Katsuki untangled himself from the sheets and Eijirou’s long limbs, shifting onto his elbows before sitting up completely. His movements were quick, mechanical, almost precise. Like he wasn’t allowing himself a moment of hesitation.
“Kat?” Eijirou started, still trying to process the whiplash. The way Katsuki had let himself be held, the way he let himself breathe, let himself laugh and now he was shutting down and moving forward.
Katsuki ignored him.
Instead, he reached over to the bedside table, grabbing his phone, and tapping the screen. Eijirou caught a flash of the lock screen—3:42 PM—before Katsuki snapped upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
Eijirou sat up immediately, heart kicking up again. “Kay, baby, where—”
“The test,” Katsuki said flatly. “Now.”
Eijirou barely had time to react before Katsuki was pushing off the bed, moving with single-minded focus and heading straight for the bathroom like he’d already made up his mind.
Eijirou’s stomach flipped.
“Now?” He echoed, still catching up.
Katsuki shot him a glare over his shoulder. “No. Next fucking week. Of course now, dumbass.”
Eijirou scrambled to his feet, still feeling like he was lagging at least ten steps behind, as he watched Katsuki move with urgency.
He didn’t look excited. He didn’t even look relieved.
He looked like he was just ready to stop asking himself the question.
Eijirou’s brain caught up just in time to follow him, trailing after Katsuki as he reached for the bag still sitting on the dresser and snatching the box out of it in one swift motion.
His hands weren’t shaking.
At least, not yet.
But Eijirou knew Katsuki better than anyone.
And as Katsuki’s fingers clenched around the edges of the box, knuckles turning just a shade too pale, Eijirou knew. This was starting to get to him. This was real now.
This wasn’t just a lingering thought in the back of both of their minds anymore. Well, back of Katsuki’s mind. At the very forefront of Eijirou’s. Every breath he took over the last four weeks was leading up to this moment. But for Katsuki it was something that could be ignored. He’s been too busy. Too focused. But this…this was happening.
Katsuki slammed the bathroom door shut behind them, cutting off the rest of the house like he was sealing them inside a pressure cooker.
The small space immediately felt crowded. Katsuki didn’t look at him, didn’t speak. He just ripped open the cardboard box, tossing the crumpled instructions toward Eijirou without a second glance.
“Make yourself useful,” Katsuki muttered, voice gruff but edged with uncertainty. He turned away, head bowed slightly, fingers shaking just enough to betray him as he placed the test carefully on the sink.
Eijirou picked up the instruction leaflet and tried to unfold it, his own hands unsteady, clumsy. The paper crinkled sharply, echoing in the cramped space, a harsh reminder that this was actually happening. That after weeks of obsessing, of aching, of almost tearing himself apart with want—here they were, trapped together in this tiny bathroom, teetering on the edge of something huge.
Something life-changing.
“If you are using a cup—”
“I know how to piss on a stick, Ei.”
“Okay, okay…” He cleared his throat awkwardly, reading the instructions aloud even though they both knew exactly what to do. “Three minutes. Two lines—pregnant. One line—not pregnant.”
“Well that parts just fucking common sense,” Katsuki muttered, but his voice was tight with nerves, betraying the sharpness of his words. He didn’t turn around, just shifted his weight from one foot to the other, restless and uncomfortable. “Why did I even ask you to read it?”
“I dunno, I’m just…” Eijirou faltered, carefully setting down the paper again. “Trying to help?”
Katsuki didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he sighed softly, shoulders falling slightly, some of the rigid defensiveness easing from his stance. “Yeah, I know.”
Then silence again, sharp and almost deafening. Eijirou watched him quietly, taking in every subtle shift of Katsuki’s expression, every tense line of his shoulders. He wanted to step forward, reach out, touch him—something—but he held himself back, uncertain if he even should. If Katsuki would let him.
He'd already pushed so much. He wasn't sure he had the right to push again now.
But then Katsuki turned suddenly, stepping close, jaw clenched tight, eyes sharp but uncertain as he shoved the small stick toward him.
“Take it,” Katsuki muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.
Eijirou blinked, surprised. “What?”
Katsuki huffed impatiently, glancing up at him sharply, voice strained. “I can’t fucking look at it. Just—hold it or something. Three minutes, right?”
Eijirou nodded quickly, taking the test carefully from Katsuki’s fingers. “Right. Yeah. Three.”
Katsuki leaned against the wall next to him, crossing his arms defensively, fingers tapping out an anxious rhythm against his own elbow. Eijirou tried not to stare, tried not to obsess over the shallow rise and fall of Katsuki’s chest, the faint tremor in his jaw, the unreadable tension behind his eyes.
Eijirou set the test gently down on the counter, then hesitated, glancing at Katsuki. “You good?”
Katsuki scoffed softly, tilting his head back against the wall, gaze fixed stubbornly on the ceiling. “Ask me again in three minutes.”
Eijirou fell silent again, pressing start on his phone’s timer and placing it next to the test. The numbers ticked down agonizingly slow, the seconds stretching out painfully as both of them stood frozen in place, barely breathing.
“Longest fucking three minutes of my life,” Katsuki muttered after a while, eyes still on the ceiling, voice low and tight with anxiety.
“Yeah,” Eijirou whispered back softly, “no kidding.”
Two minutes. One.
Thirty seconds.
Eijirou’s pulse quickened, throat tightening, chest aching. He’d spent a month imagining this exact moment, this exact possibility. He’d craved it, burned for it, felt like he might die without it. But now that it was here, he felt almost sick with nerves. Terrified, excited, overwhelmed.
The timer finally went off. A sharp, piercing beep jolting them both.
Neither moved at first, paralyzed by anticipation, by uncertainty. Then Katsuki reached forward cautiously, hand hovering just inches above the test.
“Kat,” Eijirou whispered quietly, stepping just a little closer. “Whatever it says, we’re good.”
Katsuki’s eyes softened briefly as he met his gaze, tension easing slightly. He sighed softly, fingers finally closing around the test, lifting it with a shaking hand.
He stared silently down at it, eyes going wide, mouth falling open slightly. Eijirou’s heart skipped painfully in his chest.
“What is it?” Eijirou asked breathlessly, stepping in closer, eyes frantically searching Katsuki’s face. “Kat, what does it say?”
Katsuki slowly turned the test toward him, still silent, eyes still wide with shock, disbelief and…something softer, something warm, barely hidden beneath his carefully guarded expression.
Eijirou’s gaze locked onto the two clear, unmistakable lines.
Two lines.
Eijirou just stared.
His breath caught, his stomach flipped, his pulse slammed against his ribs. His chest felt too full, too tight, too much.
But he mostly just stared.
His gaze dragged upward. Slow, cautious, afraid to look but unable to do anything else.
Katsuki was frozen.
Still.
Silent.
His fingers were still clenched around the plastic, white knuckled, like he was afraid he might drop it. Like if he were to let it go, the result may change.
Eijirou’s mouth went dry. He swallowed thickly, voice hoarse and uneven. “Kat?” He asked as his heart hammered. His mind racing to process the weight of just…everything. Of weeks of obsession, of a single moment turning everything real.
Katsuki didn’t respond. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even breathe.
Eijirou reached out, slow and steady, fingers brushing over Katsuki’s wrist. Warm skin, tense muscles, a rapid pulse pounding between his fingertips.
He wrapped his hand carefully around Katsuki’s not taking the the test, just holding him.
Katsuki’s shoulders shuddered with his next inhale then finally—finally—in a voice that was way too quiet, way to vulnerable to be coming from him he muttered, “...Fuck.”
Then, Katsuki laughed.
Not a scoff. Not a dry chuckle. Not the usual sharp edge of amusement. No, this was something else.
It started small. Just a breath caught and punched out of him. But, then it grew, rolling out of him in a way that almost didn’t sound like him. Almost felt wrong.
Eijirou’s stomach flipped. “Kat?” He pressed, tightening his grip around Katuski’s wrist, worry curling tight in his chest. “Hey, what’s—”
But Katsuki just kept laughing.
It was light and breathless, almost disbelieving like he couldn’t even wrap his own head around it. And then it just kept coming, building into something almost hysterical. Something that was too big to hold in.
But, he was smiling.
Eijirou’s stomach flipped again, because Katsuki was happy.
Overwhelmed, probably. Shocked, definitely. Hysterical, oh for sure.
But happy.
The realization punched through him, something hot and full and fucking blinding.
Then, without warning, Eijrou felt his own laugh breaking out. Loose and unstoppable.
It was loud and full, shaking his chest, curling around Katsuki’s laughter until it blurred together. Echoing off the bathroom walls, drowning out the sharp edge of disbelief with something real.
They clung to each other, still laughing, still half in shock, but breathing together.
And then Katsuki grabbed him. With a hand fisted in his shirt, he yanked him down and crushed their mouths together in a kiss that tasted like relief. Like something had finally settled into place.
Eijirou melted into it, hands sliding to Katsuki’s waist, pulling him closer, pressing in tighter, needing to feel every inch of him in this moment.
The test was still in Katsuki’s other hand, clenched tight, like he didn’t want to let it go just yet.
Like he didn’t need to.
They broke apart enough to breath, foreheads pressed together, lips still brushing as the laughter finally faded into something quieter. Something softer.
“Yeah,” Eijirou exhaled shakily, grinning so hard that it hurt. And then, just as overwhelmed, just as in fucking love, voice low and rought and in entirely his own brand of awestruck relief, he whispered. “...Fuck.”
So, everyone really was having kids these days.