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Izuku absolutely hated formal events with a passion.
From his perspective, they were nothing more than the hero community’s excuse to squeeze themselves into overpriced suits and gowns just so they could spend an evening bragging about agency numbers, sidekick success rates, or whatever nonsense made them sound impressive that week. The conversations were dull and repetitive, filled with the same inflated egos he’d heard a thousand times before. He’d be lucky if the champagne tasted even half-decent to help him get through the night.
Normally, he would have avoided an event like this with the same determination he showed when grading his students’ assignments. But there was one ridiculously compelling, impossible-to-ignore reason as to why he was here.
Kacchan. Kacchan and his unfair, jaw-dropping level of attractiveness he achieved the moment he put on anything fancier than sweatpants. Izuku didn’t understand how someone could look like an explosive gremlin ninety percent of the time and then, with the addition of a suit, suddenly resemble every fantasy he’d ever tried not to have in public. It was rare to see his alpha dressed up, rarer to see him tolerate an evening like this, so Izuku refused to miss the opportunity.
And god, the blond did look stupidly attractive. The suit hugged every inch of him, cupping the firm lines of his muscles as if it had been tailored by someone who had the intent of making Izuku lose his self-control. The dim lighting of the ballroom only made it worse—shadows sliding along Kacchan’s shoulders, depth added to every curve and angle of his body. Even the way he stood, hands tucked into his pockets with his usual irritated confidence, was enough to make Izuku’s heart skip.
He swore heroes were supposed to save people, not ruin them. And yet here Izuku was, absolutely ruined.
“You could at least pretend to be listening to me instead of staring at your mate.”
Izuku blinked, the words snapping him out of his very unprofessional, very thirsty staring. He turned to find Ochako giving him a pointed look over the rim of her champagne glass, one brow raised in amused judgement. Great.
He cleared his throat, cheeks warming. “Sorry, Uraraka,” he said with a sheepish laugh, lifting his glass of water like it could somehow defend his dignity.
She just rolled her eyes. “Whatever. As I was saying, you’re acting different.”
Izuku winced a little, because she wasn’t wrong. Normally, he’d be the first one raiding the nearest platter of champagne flutes like a starved raccoon. Formal events were boring, especially since he’s mostly stepped down from doing hero work, but at least they came with free alcohol. That was what gave him the will to make it through these kinds of evenings.
But tonight, the idea of champagne made his stomach twist. The room felt too hot, like someone had turned the thermostat up twenty degrees just to torment him personally. His collar itched. His palms were damp. His skin felt over sensitive and sticky, and his pheromones kept threatening to drift out of the tight hold his scent blockers were keeping on them. Even his suit jacket felt like it was pressing too heavily against his shoulders.
So instead of champagne, he had grabbed a cold glass of water and hadn’t let it out of his hand since. He hoped that the chill might coax his body back into something resembling normal. No such luck.
He’d been sick on and off for the past week—maybe two if he was being honest with himself. Probably just a cold. Or allergies. He’d convinced himself it would pass, but the more the heat in his body curled and pulsed under his skin, the more his doubts crept in.
Maybe his heat was jump-starting early again, throwing out those awful pre-heat symptoms that always made him feel like he’d been microwaved from the inside out. He still had three weeks before it was supposed to hit, but schedules didn’t mean much when his biology decided it wanted to be dramatic. It had happened early before.
He exhaled slowly and gave Ochako a small shrug. “I’m probably nearing pre-heat,” he explained quietly.
She hummed thoughtfully, her eyes drifting to his water glass. “You smell off too.”
Izuku nearly choked on nothing. he’d noticed it as well, faint at first before intensifying as the evening dragged on. Too warm, too heavy, like it kept trying to leak through the layers of suppression he’d carefully put in place. His scent glands had been overly sensitive for days now, throbbing every time he got anxious or overheated. It could be a cold. It could be pre-heat. It could be both tag-teaming him just to ruin his week. Either way, it wasn’t great timing.
Instinctively, his hands snapped up, fingers pressing against the scent patches hidden beneath the collar of his suit. He’d doubled up on them tonight, two instead of one, hoping it would help him seem a little less… potent.
“Are you serious?” He hissed under his breath, voice cracking into a whisper-yell as panic fluttered in his chest. His fingers twitched anxiously at the edge of the patch, as if he could force it to work. “I doubled up! Does it smell bad?”
“A little bit,” she giggled, waving her hand lazily. “I don’t know. I thought for a second you might have been carrying Bakugou’s pup or something.”
Izuku’s entire body went still. The hand pressed to his scent patch hung there uselessly while his brain tried to reboot. Pregnancy talk wasn’t new. He and Kacchan had been together since high school, mated for five whole years; comments like that shouldn’t send a shockwave down his spine.
They’d talked about pups before. Though when they did, it was a late-night hypothetical buried between kisses. But that was all they were: conversations. Future plans hovering somewhere on the horizon. Because both of them knew it wasn’t time. Not when Kacchan was finally clawing his way up into the top ranks, carving space for himself among the top ten. Not when a pup would demand months of Izuku’s downtime, keeping him off of work and the field. They wanted it, both of them. But not yet.
He inhaled, slow and controlled, pushing air back through his lungs until his heartbeat stopped hiccuping. “You’re gonna have to wait a few more years for that,” he managed, forcing a smile as he lowered his hand from his neck.
“For what?”
The scent hit him before he even processed who had moved. Sharp, warm cinnamon curling around him, pulling his chest tight and making him stumble slightly. He hadn’t realized Kacchan had left his spot across the room, hadn’t realized the alpha was now so close that every step seemed to resonate in his bones.
“K-Kacchan?” Izuku gasped, eyes wide, heart hammering as he locked onto those crimson eyes. Every instinct screamed stay calm, but the closeness, the scent, the heat—it was overwhelming.
The blond took a deliberate step forward, narrowing his gaze, shoulders tense and poised like a predator honing in on prey. “For what?” he repeated, voice low and dangerous, the room suddenly feeling smaller, hotter, like it was closing in around them.
“F-for Himari to have siblings,” Uraraka said quickly, leaning into the lie with a casualness she didn’t feel, hoping the alpha would buy it.
He felt the weight of Kacchan’s stare, the sharp pull of possessiveness and curiosity coiling through the air between them. Izuku’s stomach twisted. Himari—the little gremlin of a pup that Uraraka and Iida had less than a year ago—popped into his mind. The tiny, mischievous bundle had somehow given him the worst kind of baby fever every time he saw her, and now the idea of Kacchan questioning him so closely made the feeling nearly unbearable.
“You haven’t even had the little shit for a year ‘n you want another?” He scoffed. “Something’s wrong with you and Glasses. Seriously.”
Uraraka just laughed it off, waving a dismissive hand like nothing at all was amiss. “Probably. Now that you mention it, I should probably find him. He wandered off with his dad and I’m ninety percent sure they’re talking about mufflers again.”
Izuku snorted. She leaned in, her expression softening as she touched his arm. “I hope you feel better, Izu,” she said, genuine warmth in her voice before she gave him a little squeeze and drifted back into the crowd.
She was barely two steps away before Kacchan slid seamlessly into the space she’d vacated. He reached over, plucking her used champagne glass from the table with an annoyed flick of his wrist and placing it out of the way. Then he dragged both of their chairs closer, knees brushing, bodies comfortable angles toward each other.
PDA had nothing on them; they’ve never cared about keeping distance.
“You’re still sick?” Katsuki muttered, voice rough in a way that sent a shiver up Izuku’s spine. His fingers slipped into Izuku’s freshly washed curls, gently combing through the soft strands like it was second nature. Like he needed to be touching him now that he was close enough.
Izuku leaned into it before he could stop himself, eyes fluttering half-closed. “I mean… I don’t feel like throwing up anymore,” he admitted, trying to keep his tone light. “I just don’t feel the best.”
Katsuki’s hand paused. Not fully—just enough for Izuku to feel the shift. The slow drag of his fingers turned more deliberate, as if he could diagnose him by touch alone. His scent edged closer, enveloping Izuku in a warm, cinnamon weight that pulsed with unspoken worry.
“Do you wanna leave?” Katsuki murmured, keeping his voice low so that only Izuku’s ears could catch it.
Izuku’s heart softened, but he still shook his head. Kacchan needed to be here. He was giving a speech later, a big one. Important heroes wanted to talk to him, wanted a work, a handshake, a photo. He’d been climbing for years, and tonight was one of those milestones he couldn’t skip. Izuku wouldn’t let his own crappy timing ruin that.
“I’ll be fine, Kacchan,” he said, leaning into to press a gentle kiss to his mate’s cheek. The blonds skin warmed beneath his lips, but the tension didn’t fully ease.
Katsuki exhaled through his nose, unconvinced. “You sure?”
Izuku rolled his eyes affectionately. Of course he was worried—Kacchan worried in his own explosive, intense way, but it was worry all the same. Izuku loved that about him. Loved how fiercely he looked out for him, even when it made him hover like a mother hen with grenades.
“Positive,” Izuku said, offering a small smile. “Everything is completely okay.”
Everything clearly became not okay a week later.
At first, Izuku told himself it was just the lingering cold. Or stress. Or maybe he was dehydrated. But the symptoms didn’t fade—they sharpened.
By the end of the week, mornings had turned into a battlefield. He couldn’t keep anything down. Even water made his stomach twist and revolt. Breakfast became a distant dream, and the scent of food alone sometimes made him gag. Katsuki tried making him plain rice, crackers, toast—none of it helped.
The worst part had to be the irritability. He found himself snapping at Kacchan without warning, leaving his throat burning and Katsuki staring at him with a mix of confusion and concern. It wasn’t like him. Not around his mate, the person he trusted most.
One morning, after he’d yelled at Kacchan for something as stupid as breathing too loud, Izuku had slammed their bedroom door just to drown the sound of his own heartbeat. Ten minutes later, he was back, eyes puffy, cheeks blotchy and wet.
“S-sorry,” he’d hiccuped, practically collapsing into Katsuki’s chest. “I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Katsuki just held him, arms firm around his waist. His scent was filled with worry and alertness.
It wasn’t normal. Izuku knew that. But he’d dealt with worse—far worse. His pain tolerance was embarrassingly high thanks to a lifetime of fighting like his bones were optional. Compared to battling a villain with two broken arms or sprinting through a collapsing building with a dislocated shoulder, the stomach pain was tolerable. Annoying but manageable.
“Deku,” Katsuki mumbled into the warm curve of his neck from behind. His breath ghosted over Izuku’s scent glands, sending a shiver down the omega’s spine. The glands were still acting weird. They were producing pheromones that didn’t match his usual, but at least they weren’t sharp or sour anymore. Just… strange. Overripe.
“Don’t go to work if you’re sick”
Izuku gently pushed Katsuki’s face away with a soft grunt, turning back toward the mirror to straighten his tie for the third time. His reflection looked paler than usual, a faint flush across his cheeks that wasn’t from embarrassment. “Can’t. Don’t have a sub.”
“That’s bullshit,” Katsuki snapped immediately, hands settling firmly on Izuku’s hips. “You know All Might would watch your group of tiny nerds. He’d love that shit.”
He wasn’t wrong. All Might adored stepping in for Izuku’s first-years. Called them “bright young seedlings.” Izuku’s lips twitched at the memory, but the amusement didn’t last. He still shook his head.
“I don’t like taking sick days,” he muttered. “I need to be there. They’re learning the fundamentals this week. And I still have assignments to grade—”
“You can’t grade shit if you’re puking your guts out every morning,” Katsuki cut in, voice rough with concern he didn’t bother hiding.
Izuku’s shoulders tensed. He hated how reasonable that sounded. Hated even more how right it was. But he still didn’t turn around.
“I’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “My heat should be in a week or two. I don’t want to take more time off than necessary.”
Katsuki’s fingers tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt—just enough to make Izuku stop fussing with his tie.
“Izuku—”
“Kacchan,” he cut in sharply. “It’s a cold, not the end of the world.”
His tone was firmer than usual, and Katsuki’s eyes narrowed with a flash of irritation that wasn’t directed at him, but at the situation. The blond didn’t like watching his mate get worse by the day. Even if it was just a cold, Izuku refusing help was one of the few things Katsuki couldn’t stand.
The blond didn’t look convinced. They’d been having this exact argument for two days straight—Katsuki insisting he stay home, or see a doctor at the least, and Izuku insisting he’d be fine. Izuku would then come home hours later, somehow looking worse than he had in the morning. Katsuki’s frustration was just his fear.
“You’re gonna see that old nurse, ‘kay?” Katsuki said sternly, tapping two fingers against Izuku’s hip. Recovery Girl might be retired, but she still came up to help UA staff when needed. Izuku nodded, and Katsuki gave a short grunt of approval.
“And if I feel something off on your side of the bond,” he continued, “you better fucking believe I will text Aizawa himself.”
Izuku paused, raising a brow. “Really? You’d rat me out to the principal?”
“Don’t test me, Deku,” Katsuki clicked his tongue, leaning forward. His lips brushed the side of Izuku’s head. “I mean it.”
Izuku’s breath caught for a second. He leaned briefly into the touch before pulling away to finish straightening his collar.
“I’ll go. Okay? I promise.”
By the time he had gotten into work that day, he’d already been swallowed up by chaos.
Students stopped him in the halls with questions, some waving half-finished projects in his face. A stack of ungraded assignments had found its way onto his desk, and before he could even drop off his bag, he was dragging three different kids away from trying to recreate an unstable quirk reaction inside the classroom. Recovery Girl slipped further and further down his mental priority list until it simply fell off.
Lucky for him, burying his face in student work did help. Anything that kept him busy from thinking about the squeezing sensation in his stomach or the faint ache in his lower back. He graded, lectured, graded again, and by the time the final bell rang, his brain felt too fried to remember he was supposed to go get checked out.
Just like he had predicted, his stomach settled a few days later. He could eat in the mornings again. The nausea faded into nothing but a memory. Even his scent stabilized—still a little warm, but no longer fluctuating unpredictably. Everything was clicking back into place.
Which meant one thing: his pre-heat was over. According to the timing from his last cycle, his heat should hit sometime between tonight and tomorrow. So, he did what any responsible omega would do and he prepared. He placed a quick call to the school to double-check that All Might was still covering for him (of course he was—the man nearly shouted with joy at the chance). He ransacked their laundry hamper and stole half of Kacchan’s worn, sweaty, unwashed shirts. Perfect. He tucked them into his nest and organized the rest of it until he was pleased.
And then… he waited. What he didn’t do was think too hard. About how strangely calm he felt. About how wrong it was that nothing felt wrong. Because he’d been sick, his body had felt so off that he didn’t even notice how not like heat preparation this felt. He wasn’t overheated or restless. His pheromones were steady, and there was no need to set up scent blockers around the apartment to keep himself from stinking up the whole building.
But Izuku, being Izuku, didn’t question it. He took the calm as a blessing and curled deeper into his nest.
And that was the state Katsuki found him in when he got home from patrol: tucked into a pile of stolen clothes, smelling warm and soft and wrongly right. He froze in the doorway for half a heartbeat, pupils blown wide.
“You smell so ripe,” Katsuki growled, voice slipping into something deep and feral around the edges.
Izuku barely had time to gasp before Katsuki was on him—those scarred hands gripping his shoulders as he leaned down and ripped the scent patch clean off Izuku’s neck with his teeth. The adhesive stung a bit, but his breath hitched when his pheromones spilled out. Then Katsuki’s mouth was on his neck, greedy and desperate, like a starving man.
Izuku let out a soft, helpless moan and tilted his head back instantly, offering up his throat without a thought. Katsuki liked him like this. He liked kissing the spots just behind his ears, the slope down to his collarbone, the sensitive skin over their mating marks. And Izuku loved every second of it. Heat prickled along his spine as Katsuki’s tongue traced over their bond, a feather-light tease before a playful bite made him shiver.
“I think Kacchan forgot what I smell like after I’ve been sick so long,” Izuku giggled breathlessly, fingers threading into Katsuki’s blond hair.
Katsuki pulled back just enough to speak, though his lips never fully left Izuku’s skin. “Never,” he growled, scenting him properly now—slow drags of his nose along Izuku’s neck, jaw, collarbone. Claiming him.
Izuku shivered underneath him, heart thudding so loudly he was sure Katsuki could feel it through the hand tangled in his hair. For a moment, that was the only sound in the room—their heavy breathing, slightly uneven.
Then Katsuki’s low, sharp voice cut through. “Baby,” he murmured, taking a deep inhale. His nose brushed against Izuku’s neck again, this time more investigative than possessive. “You don’t smell like heat.”
Izuku shifted underneath him, confused, trying to find the words. “M-maybe it hasn’t hit yet...” his voice was small.
“No, ‘Zu,” the blond said, his brows knitting together in a frown so tight it almost hurt to look at. “You—you smell…” his words falters for a second, unnerving in their hesitation. “…pregnant.”
Izuku froze. His eyes widened so fast it felt like his soul had caught on fire. “W-what?!” He gasped, stumbling back against the soft pile of clothes in panic. His hands flew to his face, trembling, voice catching in disbelief. “N-no! That’s impossible—K-Kacchan, it can’t be—”
“‘Zu,” Katsuki said quietly but firmly, one hand cupping Izuku’s jaw now, tilting his face up. “I know my omega. And this,” he inhaled slower this time, like testing the truth. “This isn’t heat. It’s… carrying.”
Izuku’s heart stopped in his chest. Carrying.
The word hit him like a punch. Everything in his mind—every symptom, every strange moment from the past month—aligned in an instant. The morning nausea. The stomach pain. The mood swings. The weird pheromones. It was clear as day. Izuku was pregnant.
“O-oh my god,” he choked, panic already tightening around his lungs. His hands flew to his stomach like he could feel something new there, something he had somehow missed. His breath came in small, uneven gasps as he stared wide-eyed at Katsuki.
“Kacchan we can’t—I can’t—have pups. I-I mean, you’re competing on the charts! I’m—I’m just—I’m a teacher!”
“Izuku—”
“And we’re not ready for kids! I’m not ready. I’m gonna—I’m gonna mess it up. I’ll screw something up and the pup will hate me or I’ll do something wrong or—or—,” his voice cracked, breaking as his words tumbled out too fast. His chest heaved. His mind was spinning so hard he couldn’t hear himself anymore.
Katsuki caught him before he could spiral further. Scarred hands cupped Izuku’s face firmly, holding him steady, forcing his panicked gaze to focus. “Deku,” he said. “Calm the fuck down.”
Izuku’s breath stuttered. His eyes, usually bright and expressive, were now filled to the brim with tears that clung to his lashes. One escaped, sliding down his cheek.
“M–my mom’s gonna know we’ve… done stuff,” Izuku whimpered with mortified horror, shoulders hunching defensively. The tips of his ears burned bright red.
Katsuki blinked slowly before a laugh burst out of him. A loud, incredulous snort that he tried and failed to smother.
“You’re carrying my pup,” he said, still half–laughing, half–in disbelief, “and you’re worried about your mom knowing we’ve fucked? Izuku, we’ve been mated for five years. Normal adult mates sleep together. That’s not exactly classified information.”
Izuku let out a strangled sound somewhere between a sob and an offended squeak.
But Katsuki’s thumbs brushed the tears off his cheeks, gentle in a way that didn’t match his usual rough edges. His scent softened too—warm cinnamon wrapped around Izuku, grounding him.
“I’m pregnant,” Izuku whispered.
The words barely made it past his lips, soft and fragile like they’d break if he said them too loud. His fingers trembled as he poked gently at his stomach. It was like he was trying to connect the abstract idea with the physical reality. There was a pup inside there. His and Kacchan’s.
Katsuki didn’t say anything at first. He just watched Izuku with a look Izuku didn’t think he’d ever seen before. Something so full of love it made Izuku’s throat close up.
Then Katsuki leaned forward and kissed him. Just a small peck, but Izuku melted immediately, shoulders relaxing as his fingers curled into Katsuki’s shirt. His heart fluttered painfully against his ribs. When Katsuki pulled back, his hand slid over Izuku’s belly, almost disbelieving. His palm was warm.
“You look so beautiful full of my pup,” Kacchan murmured.
Izuku didn’t think he’d ever been so happy in his entire life. Or so scared.
The two feelings crashed into each other inside his chest—dizzy joy spiraling right alongside gut-twisting panic. His breath stuttered. Katsuki’s hand was still on his stomach, fingers spread wide, firm and gentle all at once. It made everything feel real.
“K-Kacchan…” Izuku whispered again, voice barely holding steady. His eyes flicked down to where Katsuki was touching him, then back up to his mate’s face. “I—I don’t know what to do.”
Katsuki’s expression softened, the sharpness in his crimson eyes melting into something warm and steady.
“You don’t gotta know yet,” he said quietly. “We’ll figure it out.”
Izuku’s throat tightened. He wanted to believe that. He did believe that—because Katsuki never said things he didn’t mean. But the fear curled tighter anyway, cold and trembling.
“I’m not ready,” he confessed, voice trembling. “What if I—I mess something up? I’m barely keeping myself together lately and now—now we’re supposed to take care of a pup?”
Katsuki moved closer, pressing their foreheads together. “Deku,” he murmured, brushing his thumb under Izuku’s eye. “You’re gonna be a damn good parent.”
Izuku nodded shakily, leaning forward until he was pressed fully into Katsuki’s chest, arms wrapping around him tight.
Katsuki held him immediately—one arm around his back, the other splayed protectively across his stomach.
“So fucking beautiful,” Katsuki whispered into his hair. “Both of you.”
“Izuku Midoriya?”
Izuku jumped in his seat so hard the waiting-room chair creaked. His heart slammed against his ribs like it was trying to escape. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kacchan jolt too. It was only for a quick second since Katsuki always recovered faster. By the time Izuku turned toward him, the blond already looked composed. The only giveaway was the way Katsuki’s hand slid over Izuku’s, squeezing ever so gently.
Despite every argument Izuku tried that morning—I’m fine, it’s unnecessary, you should go to work—Katsuki hadn’t budged. He’d stood there with his arms crossed, giving Izuku that flat alpha stare until he finally caved. Katsuki had even said it bluntly, too. Izuku’s never going to a doctor’s appointment alone. Ever.
So here they were. Izuku looked between the doctor holding the clipboard and Kacchan, whose thumb was now brushing calming circles against his knuckles.
“Let’s go, baby,” Katsuki said quietly, giving his hand another squeeze. Izuku nodded, even if his stomach flipped.
Thats how they ended up in a small exam room with white walls and bright lights. Izuku sat propped up on the table, only because Kacchan helped lift him onto it like he weighed nothing. The paper crinkled loudly underneath him, which only made him more anxious.
The first doctor—some middle-aged woman with round glasses—went through the typical check-up routine. Blood pressure test (he couldn’t remember the names of the other fancy equipment they used on him). Medical history. Izuku answered each one with a shaky voice, and even though the questions were nowhere near invasive, they still made him sweat.
His legs swung lightly off the edge of the table, nerves prickling beneath his skin. Katsuki sat beside him, close enough for their fingers to touch if they expanded their arms. His arms were folded and his eyes were sharp, as if he was prepared to fight anyone who breathed wrong in Izuku’s direction.
“And when was your last heat?” The doctor asked, eyes kind but professional.
The word sent a shiver crawling up Izuku’s neck. He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Words failed him entirely. He turned to Kacchan, hoping that his mate would have the answer.
The blond gave him a small, reassuring nod. “Three months ago,” he said like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Do they have a history of being inconsistent?” The doctor asked next, her eyes flicking back to Izuku.
Gulping, Izuku shook his head. “Not really.”
“And you use contraceptives?”
Izuku’s face was probably bright red by now. He blurted out his answer, far too quickly. “Yes! Every time! S-so I’m just a little shocked as to how this happened.” His hands fidgeted in his lap.
She nodded, tapping her pen against her clipboard. “No contraceptive completely prevents pregnancy one-hundred percent of the time. The only way to do that is to not engage sexually at all.”
Izuku’s eyes widened. Mortification bloomed in his chest. He could feel his ears burning. He could practically hear the blood pounding in his skull.
He nodded stupidly, barely registering the doctor’s movements as she got up from her seat. She opened a cupboard, grabbing a small plastic cup, and placed it carefully in Izuku’s trembling hands.
“We’re going to need a urine sample just to confirm the pregnancy,” she said, voice calm and even, “then we’re able to make sure everything’s alright.”
Her words made Izuku flinch. Make sure everything’s alright? The phrase spun through his mind, triggering a sharp twist of fear in his chest. Was something wrong with their pup? Something he had done wrong?
The doctor gave them a small, polite smile before opening another drawer. “I recommend these pamphlets,” she said, pulling out a few colorful booklets. “Some about pregnancy, others about first-time parenting. They’re very beneficial.”
And then she left. The door clicked shut, leaving silence in the room. Well, except for Izuku’s ragged breathing.
“What does she mean… make sure everything’s alright?” he whispered, panic bubbling. His green eyes darted to Katsuki. “Is something wrong with our pup?”
Sue him for being nervous. He was an omega carrying for the first time. He’d been worried and overthinking every little thing since the first doctor’s words.
“‘Zuku, calm down,” Katsuki said softly, moving to stand in front of him. His hand cupped the back of Izuku’s neck while his lips pressed gently to Izuku’s temple.
“I-I’m just… b-but there could be something wrong,” Izuku admitted, voice shaky. “You know this, Kacchan. Male omegas have harder pregnancies—higher risks—”
Katsuki cut him off with a firm, deliberate kiss. Not rushed. Not teasing. Izuku froze, heart hammering, and for a moment didn’t know if he was supposed to respond or just melt against him.
“Go pee in that cup,” Katsuki murmured against his lips, tilting his head down slightly, brushing their foreheads together. Then he added, softer, “I’ve got you. Everything’s fine.”
Izuku blinked at him, still trembling, before letting a small whimper escape. Katsuki pressed another reassuring kiss to his lips, and for the first time in hours, Izuku felt just a little bit of calm seep into his chest.
He left a second later, fingers fumbling as he did exactly what the doctor told him to do. His hands shook the entire walk to the restroom, the stupid plastic cup feeling heavier than it should’ve. When he came back out, a nurse was already waiting to take the sample from him.
Izuku swore his face was fuming. Not just warm, but scorching. He couldn’t even look the nurse in the eye as he handed the cup over, mumbling a thank-you before nearly speed-walking back to the exam room.
Katsuki was waiting exactly where he’d left him.
Once Izuku climbed back up onto the exam table, he realized his palms were sweating. Again. He wiped them down the sides of his pants, but they just got clammy again immediately, moisture gathering no matter what he did.
The paper beneath him crinkled loudly with every tiny movement, and it only made him more aware of how exposed he was. How real everything was becoming. This wasn’t speculation or a maybe or Katsuki scenting him and noticing something strange.
The blond didn’t say anything at first. He just stepped closer, standing between Izuku’s knees, one warm hand settling on his thigh. The blond’s thumb brushed a slow, steady rhythm against the fabric.
“Breathe,” Katsuki murmured.
“I am breathing,” Izuku hissed under his breath.
“Not well.”
Izuku shot him a glare, but it was weak. More like a scared kitten than anything threatening.
The door clicked open again and the second doctor stepped inside. She was a woman with gently eyes, a clipboard, and a voice way too calm for how terrified Izuku was.
“Midoriya?” She greeted with a soft smile. “I’m Dr. Sato. I’ll be handling your examination today.”
Izuku nodded quickly. “H-hi. Yes. That’s me. I’m him. I—yep.”
Katsuki snorted. Izuku elbowed him immediately.
Dr. Sato didn’t seem bothered. “Your preliminary tests came back positive,” she said, glancing at her notes. “But we’ll be doing an ultrasound today to confirm the stage of your pregnancy and check your vitals.”
Izuku felt his heart stop and start again all at once. This was really happening.
Katsuki seemed to sense the panic spike in his mate, because he moved closer, draping an arm all the way to Izuku’s opposite hip. “You’re fine,” he murmured into his ear. “I’m right here.”
Izuku nodded, but his voice trembled. “O-okay. Okay.”
Dr. Sato gestured kindly. “You can lean back further on the seat to get comfortable and lift your shirt a bit. We’re only checking your abdomen today.”
Izuku hesitated, pushing himself back with the help of Kacchan. He propped himself up onto his elbows and watched as Kacchan gently slid his shirt up, just enough so it was exposing his entire stomach and nothing else.
Dr. Sato put on some gloves before dragging a monitor and bringing it to Izuku’s side. When she grabbed the cool gel and put it on his skin, Izuku jolted.
“Sorry,” she said with a small smile. “It’ll be a bit cold.”
Izuku barely heard her. He stared at the ceiling before moving to the wall. He was going to be a parent. Katsuki was going to be a father. There was a pup. Their pup—
The soft static from the machine distracted him. Izuku returned his gaze to the ceiling at first, trying not to hyperventilate. His hands gripped the sides of the exam table hard enough to rip the paper beneath him.
Dr. Sato held the ultrasound wand steady in one hand, her other adjusting the screen’s angle. The gel on Izuku’s stomach helped her guide the wand where she wanted, firm enough to get a clear image, never enough to hurt. She tilted the wand slightly, the grainy shapes shifting and focusing.
“There,” she said softly, her voice almost tender. “Right there. Those are your pups.”
Pups. Plural.
Izuku blinked. His mind completely emptied. His lungs forgot their purpose. His heart might have stopped entirely—he couldn’t tell. All he could do was stare at the blurry little shapes on the screen, tiny flickers of movement he wasn’t prepared for.
Pups. Two. There were two inside him.
“There’s more than one?” He stammered. He bit his lip hard, trying to steady the sudden wave of panic rushing through him again.
Dr. Sato nodded gently. “Yes. You’re carrying twins.”
Twins. He and Kacchan were having two pups.
Izuku’s breath hitched sharply, the sound shaky and overwhelmed. His fingers dug into the table once more. He wasn’t sure if he was going to cry, faint, or throw up again like he had the past three weeks.
Beside him, Katsuki went very, very still. His hand tightened around Izuku’s, not painfully but with absolute intensity. His breath came out in a low, stunned exhale.
“Holy shit…” the blond whispered.
Izuku couldn’t read his eyes away from the screen. Those tiny shapes were their pups. His throat felt tight.
Dr. Sato adjusted the wand again, the picture shifting as she located clearer angles. “They’re both measuring well,” she said gently. “I’d estimate you’re about twelve weeks along.”
Twelve weeks. He’d been pregnant for an entire three months just thinking he was sick.
She pointed with a gloved finger. “This one,” she tapped the lower blurry shape, “is right above your bladder.”
Izuku let out a strangled, watery laugh. “Oh my god.”
“And this one,” Dr. Sato continued, shifting to the upper flicker on the screen, “is closer to mama.”
Katsuki leaned in, pressing his forehead to Izuku’s temple. “They’re right there, ‘Zuku,” he whispered. “Both of ‘em. Our pups.”
Izuku bit his lip hard to keep from crying.
They decided to tell their family a week later, during their usual monthly visit. They would’ve waited longer just so Izuku had enough time to adjust, process, and breathe, but the more they stayed quiet, the more obvious things became.
Izuku had developed the faintest scent. Nothing too strong or noticeable from a distance—just a soft undercurrent of pregnancy that only someone pressed up against his scent glands would catch. But their families would hug him. They always did. And Katsuki’s mom had the nose of a bloodhound on high alert.
And then there was the bump. It was barely there, more like a gentle swell than anything. Easily excusable as just… extra softness from too many late-night snacks over the years. Izuku even tried to convince himself of that sometimes. But Katsuki saw it. And he talked to it every single night.
His new habit had become one of Izuku’s favorite things in the world. Izuku would lie back on the bed or couch, and Katsuki would settle between his legs, palms splayed lovingly across Izuku’s stomach. Sometimes he’d lay his head there. Other times he’d kiss every inch of the exposed skin. And sometimes he’d talk for hours—about his day, about Izuku, about how he already loved their pups more than anything.
Today, Katsuki’s topic was about Izuku.
“Your dad has the most beautiful face,” he murmured, voice low with tenderness Izuku knew he’d never use outside their home. He placed soft kisses across the little bump. “I hope at least one of you have it.”
Izuku felt warmth bloom in his chest. He laughed softly, carding his fingers through Katsuki’s blond spikes as he watched him. “They’re our pups, Kacchan. They’re gonna have a mix of both our faces.”
The blond huffed, kissing just below his mate’s bellybutton. “I hope my genes don’t even try.”
Izuku laughed, swatting weakly at his shoulder as he gently pushed Katsuki back. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, sliding off the couch so he could fix his shirt in the mirror. It took a bit, only because he had to now be mindful of the tiny swell underneath.
He looked up, he caught sight of Katsuki in the reflection. Practically naked, barefoot, and still completely, unapologetically obsessed with their pups.
“Kacchan,” Izuku groaned, “you’re gonna make us late.”
Kacchan didn’t even look guilty. He just grabbed a shirt from the edge of the couch and yanked it over his head in one fluid motion. “Better?” He asked around the collar as he pulled it down.
Izuku snorted. “It’d be better if you had pants on.”
The blond paused and looked down, like he just realized he was still in boxers.
The omega watched him, covering his mouth to smother a laugh. “We’re supposed to be at your mom’s in fifteen minutes.”
“Your pups needed me,” he muttered as he walked toward their room, grabbing a pair of pants from their dresser.
Izuku shook his head, biting back a smile. God. He loved him. And he loved the way Katsuki talked about “their pups” like it was the most natural, obvious truth in the world.
“Come on,” Izuku said when Katsuki returned, fully dressed. “Let’s go tell our moms we’re… you know.”
Katsuki zippered his pants and snatched Izuku’s hand in his. “Yeah,” he said with a sharp exhale. “Let’s go tell them I fucked you so hard that you’re full of my pups.”
“Kacchan!”
“My favorite baby!” Mitsuki beamed as she swung the door open, immediately reaching past her own son to tug Izuku inside. The comment, of course, was for him.
“Hag,” Katsuki muttered automatically, not even putting effort into it.
Mitsuki shot him a look that said I heard that, even though she clearly didn’t care. “Yeah, well I might be excited to see you if you bothered to call me once in a while.”
She hooked an arm around Izuku’s, steering him inside with that fierce maternal affection she reserved exclusively for him. Katsuki leftover scraps of it. When she remembered to.
Right as she leaned in to hug the omega—her usual routine whenever she saw him—he stiffened, just barely pulling away. She blinked, confused.
“The nerd’s been sick,” Katsuki said, tone flat but eyes flicking up to his mate.
It wasn’t not true. Izuku had been nauseous at unpredictable times, and the doctor had warned them about dizziness.
Mitsuki softened. “Oh, sweetheart… don’t worry about hugging me then.” She cupped his cheek instead, thumb brushing gently before she straightened. “Your mom’s waiting at the table.”
Izuku relaxed a little. “Do you need any help?” He asked politely.
Katsuki barked a short laugh behind him, only because Izuku in the kitchen was a hazard to all life forms.
Mitsuki gave him a grateful look anyway. “No, hun.” Then her expression snapped to a sharp edge as she turned toward her son. “But you—“
She jabbed a finger at Katsuki’s chest.
“—put on an apron and cut some vegetables.”
Dinner had been nice. Mitsuki and Inko nearly chatted the entire time, but Izuku blocked them off. He was clenching the hem of his shirt, trying to map out their future conversation. Normally, his nerves would’ve made him leave half his plate untouched, but he couldn’t. He was literally eating for three.
By the time he had licked his plate clean, he still wasn’t satisfied. His hands reached instinctively for Kacchan’s plate, picking at the pieces that weren’t even appetizing. The blond barely noticed, probably more focused on their parent’s conversation. Still, he could feel Izuku’s hunger through their bond. It made him shift his plate toward his mate without a word.
“How’s work going, Izuku?” Masaru asked from across the table.
Tiring. That was what he wanted to say. Training his students was exhausting enough, but teaching without being able to demonstrate properly—without using embers or letting them see physical examples—made every lesson feel twice as difficult. And now, the tiny lives growing inside him, he had to think about everything he did. He had to make sure he didn’t overexert himself, didn’t let his hormones spike, didn’t do anything that might affect the pups.
“Good!” He said instead, forcing a smile as he raised his glass of water to his lips. It calmed the rumbling in his stomach and gave him a momentary sense of control. “My students should be getting their provisional licenses in a week.”
Mitsuki’s eyes twinkled. “Hopefully they don’t botch it like Katsuki,” she said teasingly, and Izuku felt a little smirk pull at the corner of his lips.
The blond rolled his eyes, though the twitch in his lips betrayed amusement. Then, without a word, he nudged his plate further toward Izuku, offering more food. Katsuki was far from full himself, but his mate’s hunger was loud. He knew Izuku would take anything offered.
Izuku’s hands didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a few pieces of food and smiled. It was a like a little reminder of how seen he was by Kacchan. How much he was cared for. And possibly spoiled.
“Oh, hunny,” Mitsuki said quietly, her gaze softening as she looked at him. “You could’ve told me you wanted more.”
Izuku’s face heated instantly, a bright flush creeping over his cheeks. “A-ah, sorry,” he stammered, fumbling with his utensils. “I just had a small lunch.”
He tried to focus on his plate, on cutting into his food into little neat pieces as if that could distract him. His thoughts spiraled instead. Is red meat okay? Should I be eating more vegetables? More protein? Less? Is this seasoning safe? Oh god, what if the spices harmed them.
While he was silently freaking out over nutritional guidelines, Masaru stood up from the table. “Let me grab something for everyone to drink.”
Izuku froze and nearly dropped his fork on the plate. Drinks. Alcohol. Screw red meat—alcohol was absolutely, unquestionably not good for pups.
He nervously squirmed when Masaru returned, balancing a bottle of wine and a few glasses on a tray. Instantly, Izuku’s wide eyes fixed on the bottle like it was a live grenade. He felt sweat bead on the back of his neck.
What if someone poured him a glass? What if he forgot and took a sip? What if the pups—
Katsuki’s hand shot out, resting over Izuku’s for a fraction of a second. “Relax, baby,” he muttered, voice low but firm. “You’re fine.”
But Izuku couldn’t relax. His stomach twisted nervously at the thought of alcohol and their pups. The only thing keeping the panic from overwhelming him entirely was the familiar warmth of Katsuki’s presence.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t worry,” Mitsuki said gently, following his gaze. “It’s white. We know you hate red.”
That earned a small, jittery laugh from Izuku, though his cheeks were still pink. The panic didn’t fully dissipate, but it ebbed just enough for him to let out a shaky breath. He could feel Katsuki’s thumb rubbing smooth circles over his hand, silent reassurance pulsing through their bond.
“I-uh,” Izuku began, voice small as he watched Masaru pour the taunting liquid into a glass. The white whine shimmered innocently in the dim light, but in Izuku’s mind, it might as well have been poison.
His stomach twisted. This was it. So much for easing them into it.
“I’m pregnant,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could second-guess himself.
Silence. Absolute, suffocating silence filled the dinner table. The clink of forks and plates seemed impossibly loud. Every set of eyes was on him, and Izuku’s stomach knotted tighter with every passing second. His pulse thundered in his ears.
Before he could spiral any further, Katsuki’s hand shot out, squeezing his. The warmth of it reminded him to breathe.
And then Masaru—blissfully oblivious to the tension—overfilled the glass, tilting it too far. The tray tipped. Glass and metal clanged against the floor, scattering shards and wine like tiny explosions. The bottle rolled to the side with a wet thunk, spilling more liquid across the polished floor.
Izuku’s jaw dropped. His panic skyrocketed. That’s when everything else broke.
“You knocked him up?!” Mitsuki screeched, hands flying to her cheeks.
Katsuki’s ears turned pink, though his face stayed carefully composed. “Can you not?” He muttered, pulling Izuku slightly closer to him.
“Oh my gosh,” Inko gasped from the other side of the table, hands clutched over her mouth. Her eyes darted between her son and her son-in-law. “A pup?! Are you serious?!”
Izuku’s shoulders slumped. He’d expected shock. Maybe joy. Maybe even some awkward questions. But this felt like a category five emotional hurricane.
Katsuki’s hand dropped to press against the small of Izuku’s back, giving him a protective squeeze there. “Yeah. I knocked him up. Happy now?”
“I-I mean,” Izuku stuttered, eyes wide, “we’re… I’m carrying… and it’s two…”
The words barely left his mouth before Mitsuki was squealing. “Oh, my babies! I can’t believe it!”
Katsuki muttered under his breath, rubbing his forehead. “I knew tonight wasn’t a good night to tell them.”
“Two,” Inko whispered, her voice trembling. She looked like she might actually faint, her hands moving to her cheeks. “Twin pups…”
Izuku couldn’t help it. The mix of emotions in the room made laugher bubble out of him nervously. It started small, a choked little sound, and then it grew, spilling from him like a dam breaking.
Inko, still trembling slightly, shook her head in disbelief. “My little Izuku… carrying twins… oh, I can’t handle this.”
Izuku’s laugh softened into a smile, warmth spilling through his chest. He leaned into Katsuki, resting his head on his mate’s shoulder. It was the perfect beginning to their new journey.
Pregnancy wasn’t kind to Izuku. Not at all.
The amount of times he’s woke up in the middle of the night with one—or both—of the pups pressed aggressively against his bladder was insane. Who knew something the size of a peach could have the nerve to make demands in the middle of the night. They ordered Izuku around like puppeteers tugging strings, forcing him to inhale any food within a five-mile radius the second a craving hit.
He knew for a fact they were Katsuki’s kids because all the cravings were spicy. All of them. Izuku hated anything with a kick to it, but that didn’t stop him from shaking Katsuki awake at two in the morning to mumble, teary-eyed, about needing spicy katsudon right now.
Katsuki had dragged himself out of bed, muttering a mixture of “I love you,” and “I love our pups.” He repeated them over and over just so he didn’t fall asleep while cooking.
Then there was the matter of his bump. Dr. Sato had warned him it would progress faster than a singleton pregnancy, but he hadn’t expected this. His shirts still fit… kinda. But his pants weren’t even able to clasp anymore. The only comfortable outfit he could tolerate for more than five minutes was sweatpants.
Eventually, he told Aizawa about the pregnancy. He had to. He couldn’t justify walking into work in sweats everyday without an excuse, and Izuku Midoriya was nothing if not mortified by the idea of his former teacher realizing exactly what he and Kacchan had been doing for him to end up like this. But he actually took the news better than expected. He almost looked happy.
“It was only a matter of time,” he’d said, sipping coffee like this was the most normal conversation in the world. “Congratulations.”
He even adjusted Izuku’s workload so he didn’t have to push himself during physical demonstrations. His class was allowed to join another teacher for combat training, leaving Izuku free to teach theory from a chair with a cushion behind his lower back.
At first, it had been embarrassing showing up in sweatpants, waffling between desks, and feeling his scent glands fluctuate weirdly, but his students were surprisingly sweet about it.
And Katsuki? His mate pushed his patrol back to the afternoon so he could have an extra hour with Izuku in the morning before the omega left for work. Extra time to cook for him. Extra time to scent him. Extra time to hover and act like a possessive guard dog with a hero license. To say Katsuki was obsessed was an understatement. This man was feral about his pregnant mate.
Katsuki leaned his elbows on the counter, chin in hand, eyes fixed on Izuku like his omega was the most fascinating thing on earth. Izuku could feel the weight of those crimson eyes before he looked up.
“Kacchan’s staring,” Izuku teased, taking a sip of coffee before handing the mug over. Katsuki accepted it immediately.
“You’re beautiful.”
Izuku’s breath caught. His mate was definitely lying. He was wearing sweatpants that were too big around the legs but the only ones that didn’t dig into his stomach. And he’d thrown on an oversized hoodie (one of Kacchan’s, of course) because it was comfortable and warm and smelled like him. He looked like someone ready to sprint away from paparazzi.
And speaking of paparazzi… they have been pooling out of Izuku and Katsuki’s apartment ever since Izuku started showing. Headlines everywhere. Speculations, photos, and debates have been the popular news stories. Someone online had made an analysis video about the exact moment Midoriya’s bump became visible. Now, the bump made it to the top of social media’s trending page for three days straight.
Izuku groaned at the thought. “I’m round.”
Katsuki snorted like that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. He stepped behind him, sliding one strong arm around Izuku’s waist. The other one held the coffee mug steady so he didn’t spill it. His free hand settled on Izuku’s stomach, warm and openly possessive.
“That makes you even hotter,” he said, completely serious. “You’re carrying my pups. Of course you’re hot.”
Izuku’s face burned. He turned his head, tilting just enough for Katsuki to meet him halfway.
The kiss was slow, like Katsuki was savoring every fraction of a second. He kissed Izuku as if he was trying to carve the memory into his bones, like he needed to memorize exactly how Izuku tasted. How his tongue brushed against Katsuki’s. Which spots made Izuku gasp and squirm and cling to him with trembling fingers. Izuku let out a tiny noise when Katsuki nipped at his lower lip, and Katsuki chased that sound like it was oxygen.
“I love you,” Katsuki whispered between kisses, breath warm against Izuku’s mouth. “I love you so, so much.”
A kiss against Izuku’s cheekbone. Another to the corner of his lips. They moved lower, descending to his jaw, his throat, then a soft place behind his ear.
“And I love our pups,” the blond murmured.
Izuku giggled, but the sound was swallowed in another kiss. It turned messy fast, the kind of kiss where both of them were smiling too much to make it smooth. Izuku shifted, twisting until they were face-to-face. His arms looped around his mate’s shoulders, pulling him closer. They couldn’t press their entire bodies together anymore thanks to Izuku’s bump, but Izuku didn’t mind.
Katsuki dropped the coffee mug he’d somehow still been holding. It thudded harmlessly on the counter, forgotten. Both of his hands flew to Izuku’s stomach, his thumbs brushing small circles over the fabric stretched across the bump.
“Marry me,” Katsuki groaned suddenly.
Izuku burst into laughter, half from shock and half from how intensely Katsuki has said it. It was like the blond forgot that he’d already asked, and forgot they’d already stood in front of everyone they loved as they read their vows.
“Kacchan,” Izuku giggled, leaning his forehead against his mate’s. “We’re already married.”
Katsuki huffed like he didn’t care. “Let’s do it again.”
Izuku snorted, shoulders shaking as he kissed the blond’s jaw. “Katsuki, baby, we are married.”
They both reached up instinctively, fingers brushing the chains around each other’s necks. Their rings hung there. Katsuki insisted it was safer that way. If it was on his finger, he worried he’d lose it in a fight, or worse—have to explain it to the media why it flew across a battlefield. Izuku didn’t complain. He loved the way they looked on chains, how they rested close to their hearts.
Izuku played with Katsuki’s chain for a moment, rubbing his thumb over the warm metal. Katsuki’s hand, still resting on Izuku’s bump, traced lazy shaped. Or they might have been letters. Either way, neither of them spoke. They just breathed each other in.
After a long minute, Izuku exhaled and leaned back slightly. “C’mon,” he said. “I need to change for work.”
Katsuki made a low noise—somewhere between a groan and a whine—and tightened his arms around him for a second longer, like he wasn’t ready to give him up yet.
“You’re warm,” Katsuki muttered into his shoulder. “Stay for a sec.”
Izuku laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Kacchan, I already stayed for a sec.”
“That was like…” the blond glanced at the clock. “Forty seconds.”
“That’s still a sec,” Izuku teased.
“Not enough.” Katsuki finally pulled back, but his hands moved to Izuku’s hips like he couldn’t stop touching him even if he tried.
Izuku just smiled in a way that made red eyes soften. He’d never felt more loved in his entire life. Not even close. Katsuki held him like he was precious, something he chose every single day without hesitation.
“I love you, Kacchan,” Izuku whispered.
Katsuki’s breath hitched. Then he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together once more. “I know, baby,” his voice was rough, the way it only ever got when he was being honest. He nudged Izuku’s nose with his. “And I love you. More than anything.”