The sheets were damp with sweat and other things, cool now against Izuku's back. Katsuki’s arm was a heavy, familiar weight around his waist, his broad chest a furnace against Izuku’s spine. The room smelled of sex, of whiskey, of them.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Katsuki murmured into his hair, his voice sleep-rough. His hand splayed possessively over Izuku’s smooth stomach.

“I’m not.”

“Liar.” Katsuki’s thumb stroked a slow circle. “What is it?”

Izuku bit his lip. The quiet felt dangerous, a bubble that could pop. “Do you… ever miss her?”

The hand on his stomach stilled. The silence deepened, filled only with Katsuki’s steady heartbeat against his back.

“Who?”

“Mom.”

Katsuki’s exhale was a long, hot rush against Izuku’s neck. His arm tightened. “Why?”

“I don’t know. We never talk about her.” Izuku’s voice was small. “My earliest memory… it’s not even really a memory. It’s a feeling. Sound. You crying. In the dark.”

Katsuki was silent for so long Izuku thought he’d shut down. Then, quietly, “She bled out. They couldn’t stop it. They handed me this tiny, squalling thing covered in her blood, and she was just… gone.”

Izuku held his breath.

“Crushed me,” Katsuki said, the words gravel. “For years. I’d look at you and all I’d see was the reason she was dead.”

The confession landed like a punch. Izuku’s eyes stung. He couldn’t move.

“Then you turned ten.” Katsuki’s voice changed, dropping lower, thickening. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing his smooth mound between Izuku’s thighs. “Started getting these little tits. Your hair got longer. You’d smile, and it was her smile. Her fucking eyes.”

Izuku felt the shift. The memory was curdling into something else. Katsuki’s cock, soft against his thigh, began to stiffen.

“I was drunk. Always drunk. Trying to blur you out.” His fingers dipped, not inside, just tracing the slick folds. Izuku gasped. “Couldn’t. You were everywhere. Looking just like her. Smelling like her. And I was so… fucking… horned up.”

“Daddy—”

“Needed release,” Katsuki growled, his mouth hot on Izuku’s shoulder. His touch wasn’t tender now. It was claiming. Remembering. “My wife was gone. And there you were. My little boy. Her little copy. Begging for it.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.” Katsuki rolled him onto his back, looming over him. His crimson eyes were dark, hungry, fixed on Izuku’s face. “You flinched. You cried. But your tiny cunny got wet for me that very first night. Dripped all over my hand. Remember?”

Izuku’s head nodded, a traitorous, automatic jerk. He remembered. The pain. The terror. The shocking, shameful burst of heat between his legs when his daddy’s calloused thumb had found his clit.

“My perfect little wife,” Katsuki breathed, lowering his head. His kiss tasted like confession and whiskey. When he pulled back, his expression was raw. “Had to make you mine. Only way I knew how.”

“You came,” Katsuki growled against his mouth, the words a hot, whiskey-soaked truth. “That first time. My fingers were barely inside that tight little hole and you screamed. Not from pain. From your first fucking orgasm. Squirting all over my hand like a goddamn fountain.”

Izuku whimpered. His hips jerked up, his naked cunt already slick, betraying him. “Daddy, please—”

“No blood,” Katsuki continued, his hand sliding between Izuku’s thighs, his calloused fingers finding the soaked folds. “My cock’s a monster, Izu. Ten inches. And your virgin pussy took it. Stretched so pretty. No tearing. Just… acceptance.” He pushed two fingers inside, slow and ruthless. “Because you were made for it.”

“I was scared,” Izuku gasped, his back arching off the silk sheets. His small breasts heaved, his puffy nipples tight and aching.

“You were.” Katsuki scissored his fingers, stretching him. “Crying. Begging me to stop. But this…” He curled his fingers, finding the spot that made Izuku’s eyes roll back. “This cunt was sopping. Dripping down my balls while I fucked you. Your little hips bucking up to meet me. You remember the sound?”

Izuku nodded, frantic. He remembered. The wet, rhythmic slap of his father’s body against his, the brutal, carving pace. The smell of sweat and liquor and his own fear.

“You moaned.” Katsuki’s voice dropped to a possessive whisper. He withdrew his fingers, shiny with Izuku’s arousal, and brought them to his son’s lips. “Taste it. That’s you. That’s what you gave me that night. Proof you were mine.”

Izuku’s tongue darted out, obedient, shameful. He sucked his own slick from Katsuki’s fingers, the taste musky and familiar. A tear traced his temple into his green hair.

“Why are you crying, baby boy?” Katsuki murmured, shifting his weight. His massive, hard cock pressed against Izuku’s inner thigh, a thick, insistent heat.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Katsuki’s hand wrapped around his throat, not squeezing, just holding. A claiming. “You love this. You love knowing your tiny cunny was born to take your daddy. That even when I was destroying you, you came for me.”

Izuku’s breath hitched. His pussy clenched around nothing, empty and aching. “I hated it.”

“Liar.” Katsuki lowered his head, his lips brushing Izuku’s ear. “Your body doesn’t lie. It never has.” He nudged the thick, blunt head of his cock against Izuku’s entrance. “It’s begging me right now. Look at you. Soaked. Open. Waiting.”

Izuku sobbed, a broken, wet sound. He wrapped his legs around Katsuki’s waist, his heels digging into the hard muscle of his father’s back. An answer.

“That’s it,” Katsuki growled, and he shoved his hips forward, burying his entire length inside Izuku’s tight, wet cunt in one brutal stroke.

Izuku screamed, his back bowing off the mattress, his small hands scrambling at the black silk. The stretch was immense, burning, perfect.

“Fucked you all night,” Katsuki snarled, pulling back and slamming home again. The wet slap of their skin filled the room. “Your little bed. That stupid All Might comforter. Soaked through by the time I was done with you.”

“Daddy—!”

“You squirted every time,” he continued, his pace a punishing, relentless rhythm. His eyes were locked on Izuku’s face, watching every wince, every tear. “A fucking fountain. The mattress was ruined. Had to throw it out the next week.”

Izuku sobbed, his legs tightening around Katsuki’s waist. His pussy clenched, rippling around the thick invasion. “I passed out.”

“You did.” Katsuki leaned down, his breath hot and whiskey-sour against Izuku’s lips. “Pretty little eyes rolled back. Limp as a doll. But this cunt…” He snapped his hips, making Izuku cry out. “It kept milking me. Didn’t stop. So I didn’t stop.”

“You kept… raping me.”

“I kept claiming what was mine,” Katsuki corrected, his voice a dark rumble. He changed his angle, driving deeper, and Izuku’s protest melted into a choked moan. “Your unconscious body knew its purpose. Took every drop. Drank it.”

Izuku’s head thrashed side to side. His mind fractured between the memory—the terror, the helplessness—and the present, where his father’s cock was carving a blinding, familiar pleasure from his core. His own arousal gushed, making the brutal thrusts slicker, louder.

“Tell me you remember,” Katsuki demanded, his hand finding Izuku’s throat again, applying just enough pressure to make the pleasure sharper, brighter.

“I remember,” Izuku gasped, his hips meeting each thrust. “The smell. The… the sound of you… using me.”

“Using you?” Katsuki’s thumb stroked his Adam’s apple. “I was loving you. The only way I knew how. My cock in your boy pussy. My cum in your belly. Making you mine.”

Izuku came with a shattered cry, his cunt convulsing wildly around Katsuki’s shaft. Clear fluid sprayed between their bodies, another traitorous, soaking fountain. Katsuki grunted, his rhythm stuttering, but he didn’t stop.

“That’s it,” he breathed, fucking him through the tremors. “Just like that first night. Came for me even while you slept. My perfect little cunny boy.”

"I loved it," Izuku sobbed, the words ripped from some deep, shameful place as Katsuki's cock pistoned inside him. "I loved you inside me that night. I was so happy... Daddy was finally loving me."

His confession tore another orgasm from his body. Izuku screamed, his cunt clamping down in rhythmic, milking spasms around his father's shaft. The pleasure was blinding, obliterating.

Katsuki roared, his own control shattering. He drove deep and held, his hips grinding flush against Izuku's ass as he pumped his release hot and endless into his son's trembling body. "Fuck. My good boy. Take it. All of it."

They collapsed together into the slick silk, Katsuki's weight a heavy, familiar anchor. His softening cock slipped from Izuku's well-used hole with a wet, intimate sound. Cum leaked onto the sheets between Izuku's thighs.

The room was silent except for their ragged breathing. Katsuki’s hand, still resting on Izuku’s throat, moved to cup his jaw. His thumb brushed away a tear. "Say it again."

Izuku turned his face into the touch. His voice was hoarse, wrecked. "I loved it. I wanted you. Even... even when I was begging you to stop, a part of me was begging you not to."

Katsuki kissed him. It was slow, deep, unbearably soft. His lips moved against Izuku’s with a tenderness that felt foreign, a language they’d never spoken. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against his son’s. His eyes were closed.

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki whispered, the words raw and grating. “For that first night. For every night I looked at you and saw her.”

Izuku went utterly still beneath him. The words didn’t compute. They hung in the air between them, fragile as glass.

“I should’ve seen you,” Katsuki continued, his voice a low, broken rumble. “Just you. My Izu. Not a ghost. I’m sorry, baby boy.”

A sob tore from Izuku’s chest, but it was different this time. Not shame. Not pleasure. It was a release, a fracture in a wall he didn’t know he’d built. He buried his face against Katsuki’s neck, his small hands clutching at his father’s broad back.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he choked out, the words muffled against hot skin. “Thank you for saying that.”

Katsuki held him tighter, rolling them onto their sides without breaking the embrace. The black silk was cool and slick against Izuku’s flushed back. Katsuki’s arms wrapped around him, one hand splayed possessively over his hip, the other cradling the back of his head. It was a shelter.

“You’re mine,” Katsuki murmured into his hair, the old claim made new by the apology that preceded it. “But you’re you. Not her. Never her again.”

Izuku nodded, nuzzling closer. He could feel Katsuki’s heartbeat, a slow, steady drum against his own frantic pulse. The smell of sex and sweat and cedar cologne was everywhere, but the rage was gone from it. Only exhaustion remained. A heavy, quiet peace.

“Go to sleep, Izu,” Katsuki said, his voice already slurring with fatigue. His callused thumb stroked idle circles on Izuku’s hipbone.

Izuku’s eyes drifted shut. The last thing he felt was the solid warmth of his father’s chest, and the faint, rhythmic press of lips against the crown of his head. A silent promise in the dark.