The cabin door opens just after nine, and Eijiro Kirishima steps inside, his expression a careful mask of casual reluctance. It doesn’t last.

Izuku is a blur of movement. He’s been pacing for an hour, wearing only a pair of Katsuki’s sweatpants that hang low on his hips. The fabric hits the floor. He’s naked, crossing the room before the door fully closes, and then he’s dropping to his knees on the rough wooden planks with a soft thud.

“Whoa, hey—” Eijiro starts, hands coming up, but Izuku’s fingers are already on the button of his jeans, then the zipper. He yanks it down, the metal teeth parting with a harsh rasp.

“Been waiting,” Izuku breathes, the words hot against the denim. He hooks his hands into the waistband and shoves, pushing jeans and boxer-briefs halfway down Eijiro’s thick, muscled thighs. The man’s cock springs free, heavy and thick even in its semi-hard state.

Katsuki doesn’t move from his chair by the cold fireplace. He just watches, one ankle propped on the opposite knee. “Told you he was hungry.”

Izuku’s hands are already pumping the hardening length, his touch frantic. He leans in, his tongue swiping a broad, wet stripe from root to tip. He laps at the head, sucks the foreskin back, his mouth working with a desperate, focused hunger. He takes him deep, gagging once before pulling back with a slick pop, his spit shining in the low light.

“Fuck, Izuku,” Eijiro groans, his hands hovering above the green curls, trembling. He doesn’t dare touch.

“All of it,” Katsuki commands, his voice a low rumble. “He wants to taste all of you. Do it, nerd.”

Izuku moans around the fat head in his mouth, the vibration making Eijiro jerk. He obeys, sliding down again, his lips stretching obscenely as he works more of the impossible girth into his throat. He pulls off, panting, and ducks lower. His tongue finds the heavy sac beneath, licking a wet path over the wrinkled skin before he takes one testicle into his mouth entirely.

The sound is wet, guttural. Izuku sucks, his cheeks hollowing, a low, appreciative groan vibrating in his own chest as if he’s savoring a delicacy. He switches to the other, nursing at it, his fingers still working the base of Eijiro’s cock which is now fully erect, a veined, ruddy thickness that looks painful.

“Look at that,” Katsuki says, more to himself. His own arousal is a hard, familiar press against his zipper. “Sucking your friend’s balls like a starving man. You that desperate?”

Izuku pulls off with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Eijiro’s skin. “Yes, Daddy. Needed it.” His eyes are glassy, fixed on the cock bobbing in front of his face. “Tastes so good. So fucking good.”

Eijiro is breathing hard, his knuckles white where they’re clenched at his sides. “Katsuki, this is…”

“This is what you agreed to,” Katsuki finishes, standing now. He walks over, his shadow falling over them. “This is what you want. Look at him. He’s a slut for it.”

“Look at him,” Katsuki says, his voice a low, possessive rumble as his hands settle on either side of Izuku’s head. His fingers thread through the green curls, not gently. He tilts his son’s face up for a second, making Izuku meet his eyes. “He’s begging for it. Now take it all.”

He guides Izuku’s mouth back onto Eijiro’s thickness, pushing him down. Izuku gags immediately, spit bubbling at the corners of his lips, but Katsuki holds him there, forcing the stretch. “Relax your throat, nerd. You wanted this.”

Eijiro makes a choked sound, his hips giving an involuntary jerk. “Shit—Katsuki, he’s—”

“He’s fine,” Katsuki growls, working Izuku’s head in a slow, brutal rhythm. Up, then down, deeper each time. The wet, choking sounds fill the cabin. “Look at you. Still acting like you’re not fucking his face. Touch him.”

“I don’t—”

“Touch my son,” Katsuki commands, his own breath coming faster as he watches Izuku’s lips strain. “He’s not glass. He’s a cock-hungry slut who’s been dreaming about your dick since you walked in. Grab his hair. Fuck his throat. Do it.”

A shudder runs through Eijiro’s big frame. His hands, which have been hovering, finally sink into Izuku’s hair. They’re shaking. He doesn’t move.

Katsuki barks a laugh, sharp and mean. “Pathetic. You’ve got a fucking soda can between your legs and you’re scared to use it. He wants it rough. Look.”

He releases Izuku’s head, and Izuku pulls off, gasping, a thick line of spit and pre-cum connecting his swollen lips to Eijiro’s tip. His own hands are between his thighs, two fingers working frantically in and out of his own pussy. The slick, obscene sound of it mixes with his ragged breathing. “Please,” Izuku whimpers, not to Katsuki, but to Eijiro. “Please, use me. Fuck my throat. I need it.”

That breaks something in Eijiro. His jaw sets, the kindness in his red eyes burning away into something darker, more desperate. His grip in Izuku’s hair tightens, turning into a fist. He yanks Izuku forward and thrusts his hips, burying his entire length down Izuku’s throat in one brutal motion.

Izuku’s whole body seizes, a muffled scream vibrating around the cock. His eyes roll back, tears leaking from the corners. His fingers pump faster between his legs, his hips bucking against his own hand.

“There it is,” Katsuki murmurs, his own cock throbbing painfully. He watches, rapt, as Eijiro finds a rhythm, brutal and efficient, fucking into the wet, tight heat of his son’s mouth. Each thrust makes Izuku choke. Each retreat leaves him gasping. “That’s it. Nothing’s off limits. Not while I’m here. Not while he’s like this.”

Izuku’s moans are continuous, a broken, blissful soundtrack of gurgles and hitched breaths. He’s lost, completely gone, his world narrowed to the stretch of his jaw, the taste of salt and skin, the overwhelming presence of his father’s best friend using his face. His own climax is building, a tight coil in his belly, his fingers soaked and frantic.

Katsuki steps closer, his shadow falling over them. He places a hand on Eijiro’s shoulder, feeling the muscle corded tight with strain. “Don’t hold back,” he says, his voice dropping to something intimate, conspiratorial. “He can take it. Look how happy he is.”

Eijiro’s pace turns punishing, his hips pistoning, the slap of his balls against Izuku’s chin loud in the quiet cabin. His eyes are squeezed shut, a low, continuous groan torn from his chest. “Fuck. Fuck, Izuku.”

Katsuki’s other hand reaches down, his thumb brushing over Izuku’s tear-streaked cheek. “Such a good boy,” he says, pride dripping from every syllable. “Taking it all for Daddy. You want his cum?”

Izuku’s green eyes, hazy and desperate, find his. He tries to nod around the massive cock fucking his throat. A fresh wave of tears spills over.

“Then swallow it,” Katsuki says. He looks at Eijiro, whose rhythm is starting to fracture, his thrusts becoming ragged. “Breed my son’s throat. Do it.”

Eijiro shouts, a raw, broken sound. He slams in one last time, hilting himself, and holds there. His whole body shakes. Izuku gags, his throat fluttering violently, but he doesn’t pull away. He sucks, hard, his nose pressed into black pubic hair, drinking every pulse.

When Eijiro finally staggers back, collapsing against the wall, Izuku slumps forward onto his hands, coughing, strings of cum and spit dripping from his mouth to the floor. He’s trembling, his own fingers still moving between his legs, chasing his own finish.

Katsuki crouches in front of him. He swipes a thumb through the mess on Izuku’s chin and brings it to his son’s lips. “Clean it.”

Izuku’s tongue darts out, licking his father’s thumb clean, his eyes glazed with utter submission. “Thank you, Daddy,” he rasps, his voice wrecked.

“Good.” Katsuki stands, looking from his spent best friend to his debauched son. The air is thick with sweat and sex and salt. He unzips his own pants, freeing his aching hardness. “Now let’s see if his pussy feels as good as his throat does.”

Izuku turns from his father’s exposed cock, his wrecked mouth still glistening, and crawls on his knees to Eijiro. He doesn’t speak. He just turns, presenting himself, and spreads his thighs wide on the floorboards. His fingers hook into the slick, swollen lips of his pussy and pull them apart, exposing the glistening pink flesh within. “Coach Kiri,” he whimpers, the title a filthy prayer. “Please. Please fuck me. I need your big cock. Need it stretching my cunt.”

Katsuki strips the rest of his clothes off, his own massive length jutting thick and heavy between his hips. He kneels in front of his son, his hands replacing Izuku’s, spreading him wider. “Look at that,” he says to Eijiro, his voice thick with possessive pride. “Dripping for you. Go ahead. Fuck my son.”

Eijiro is already painfully hard again, his breath hitching as he stares at the offered, glistening hole. He fumbles with his jeans, shoving them down his muscled thighs until he’s free, his own thick, girthy cock bobbing against his stomach. “Katsuki, I—”

“Don’t hold back,” Katsuki cuts in, his thumbs working Izuku open, making the younger boy shudder and moan. “He’s a little slut. He likes it hard. Rough. Unforgiving. You’ll frustrate him if you don’t hurt him at least a little.”

“Yes,” Izuku gasps, his head falling forward, his back arching. “Need it hard. Want it to hurt. Please, Coach, just fuck me. Breed me.”

Eijiro’s resolve crumbles. The last vestige of his hesitation burns away in the furnace of the cabin’s heat and Izuku’s raw, begging hunger. He moves forward, his big hands settling on Izuku’s spread thighs, his thick tip nudging against the slick entrance. “You’re sure?”

Izuku’s answer is a raw, guttural sound. He pushes his hips back, trying to impale himself. “Fuck me!”

Katsuki holds his son steady, his eyes locked on Eijiro’s. “Do it. He’s begging for it. Look how empty he is. Fill him up.”

Eijiro leans forward, his weight settling. He pushes, and the broad, fat head of his cock begins to stretch the tight ring of muscle. Izuku screams, a sharp, broken sound of pure relief. “Yes! Oh god, yes!”

“That’s it,” Katsuki murmurs, watching the way his son’s body yields, the impossible stretch. “Take every inch. You wanted his beer can, nerd. Now fucking take it.”

Eijiro groans, a deep, shuddering sound, as he sinks deeper, the incredible girth forcing Izuku open in a slow, relentless invasion. Izuku is sobbing, babbling, his words dissolving into choked cries. “So big… so full… Daddy, he’s so big inside me…”

“I know,” Katsuki says, his own cock leaking onto the floor. He leans down, his lips brushing Izuku’s ear. “You love it. You’re a cunt made for getting wrecked by big dicks. Now tell your Coach thank you.”

“You fill me up, Daddy Kiri,” Izuku sobs, the words torn from him as Eijiro’s massive girth stretches him to the limit.

That does it. A broken snarl rips from Eijiro’s throat. The last thread of his control snaps. He drives forward, burying himself to the hilt, and then he’s fucking, proper fucking, a brutal, jackhammer rhythm that slams Izuku’s slender body forward with every piston-like thrust. The wet, meaty slap of skin on skin fills the cabin, a frantic percussion to Izuku’s screamed moans.

Izuku scrambles, his hands flailing before they find purchase on his father’s kneeling thighs. He holds on, fingers digging into hard muscle, using Katsuki as an anchor as Eijiro wrecks him. “Daddy! Daddy, he’s—!” His words dissolve into a high, continuous wail, his head thrown back, throat exposed.

Katsuki doesn’t touch his own cock, though it weeps a steady, clear thread of pre-cum onto the floorboards. He watches, his red eyes blazing with a dark, possessive awe. “Look at you,” he rasps, his voice thick. “Look at my perfect little whore. Taking it like you were made for it.”

“Fuck, Izuku, your cunt,” Eijiro grunts, his voice guttural, foreign. He’s all animal now, his hands a vise on Izuku’s hips, surely leaving bruises as he yanks the boy back onto his dick with every thrust. “So fucking tight. So hot.”

“It’s yours,” Izuku babbles, his eyes squeezed shut, tears and sweat mingling on his freckled cheeks. “Your cunt, Coach, your fucking cunt, breed it, please, breed your slut—”

Katsuki reaches out, his thumb rubbing roughly over Izuku’s bitten, swollen bottom lip. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Izuku’s green eyes fly open, hazy with pain and overwhelming pleasure. He stares up at his father, his expression utterly shattered.

“That’s it,” Katsuki says, holding his gaze. “Let Daddy see how much you love it.”

Eijiro’s pace becomes frantic, erratic. His groans turn into ragged shouts. “Gonna cum—fuck—gonna fill you—”

“Do it,” Katsuki commands, his eyes never leaving Izuku’s. “Breed my son’s hungry pussy. Pump him full.”

Eijiro roars, his big body locking up as he slams in one final, deep time. Izuku screams, a raw, broken sound, as he feels the hot, thick pulse flood his insides. His own body seizes, his back arching violently, and he squirts, a fountain of release soaking his thighs and the floor beneath them, his cunt clenching rhythmically around the cock still buried inside him.

For a long moment, there is only the sound of ragged breathing and the slow drip of fluid. Eijiro slumps forward, his forehead resting between Izuku’s shoulder blades, his body trembling.

Katsuki finally looks down at his own untouched, throbbing cock. He wraps a hand around the base, giving one slow, tight stroke. “Good boy, Ei,” he says, his voice rough with approval. “You finally learned how to use him.”

Izuku whimpers, a broken, wet sound, and rolls clumsily onto his back. He hooks his hands behind his knees and pulls them up toward his shoulders, presenting his spent, leaking cunt shamelessly to both older men. The evidence of Eijiro’s release glistens on his inner thighs, dripping slowly back onto the floorboards. “Daddies,” he breathes, his green eyes wide and begging. “That… that wasn’t enough. Need more. Need both of you.”

Katsuki stares down at the ruined, open display. A slow, dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. “You hear that, Ei? The little slut’s still hungry.”

“Need both Daddies’ fat cocks,” Izuku continues, his voice climbing into a desperate keen. He uses his fingers to spread himself wider, pulling his swollen lips apart, showing the pink, glistening depths. “Fucking my pussy. At the same time. Please. Need to feel you both stretching my cunt around your huge monster dicks. Wanna be split open. Wanna feel it for days.”

Eijiro, still slumped against the wall, drags a hand down his face. He’s soft, spent, but his red eyes are fixed on the obscene presentation. “Katsuki, he can’t mean that. He can’t take that.”

“Can,” Izuku insists, his body trembling with the force of his need. “I can. I will. Please, Coach Kiri, Daddy… just try. Use me. I’m your slut. Your fucktoy. Do it.”

Katsuki kneels beside his son’s spread thighs, his own massive, untouched cock bobbing heavily. He runs a thumb through the slick mess leaking from Izuku’s hole, gathering it, then smears it over Izuku’s lower belly. “Look at this,” he says, his voice thick with a twisted, proud awe. “Hard to believe this greedy little cunt was a virgin just a few days ago. Now he’s begging to be double-stuffed by his Daddy and his Daddy’s best friend.”

“Was made for it,” Izuku babbles, his hips making tiny, abortive circles in the air. “Made for your cocks. My pussy was made to get wrecked by you. Both of you. Please, just… try. Just put the tips in. Let me feel how big you are together.”

Eijiro pushes himself off the wall. He’s hardening again, his thick, girthy length filling slowly as he stares at the impossible request made flesh on the floor. He looks at Katsuki, a silent question in his eyes.

Katsuki answers by spitting into his own palm, then wrapping his fist around his thick base. He gives himself two rough, slick strokes, hissing through his teeth. “He says he can take it. You wanna find out if my son’s a liar?”

“I’m not lying,” Izuku sobs, his composure crumbling into pure, wanton need. “I need it. I’ll be good. I’ll take it all, I promise, just… please. Daddies. Please fuck me together.”

The honorific, plural, hangs in the sweaty air. Eijiro shudders. He moves forward, kneeling between Izuku’s splayed legs, his big hands settling on the boy’s inner thighs. His cock, fat and heavy, rests against Izuku’s soaked slit. “This is insane,” he murmurs, but it’s not a refusal. It’s awe.

“It’s gonna hurt,” Katsuki says, not as a warning, but as a promise. He positions himself beside Eijiro, the broad, mushroom head of his own length nudging against the same stretched, slippery entrance. The two thick tips press together, side-by-side, against Izuku’s desperate, fluttering hole. “You ready to get ruined, baby boy? Really ruined?”

Izuku’s answer is a wordless, high-pitched cry of anticipation. He nods frantically, his knuckles white where he grips his own knees. “Yes, Daddy. Ruin me. Do it.”

Izuku's hands leave his knees, trembling as they slide down his own trembling belly. His fingers, slick with his own juices and Eijiro's release, find the two massive, blunt heads pressing against his entrance. He wraps a hand around each fat crown, his green eyes wide and fixed on his father's face. "Like this," he whispers, his voice shredded. "Let me."

He pulls, a weak, guiding pressure. The twin tips press harder, stretching the already swollen ring of muscle into a taut, stinging oval. Izuku's breath hitches, a sharp, pained gasp.

"Fuck," Eijiro grunts, watching his own cockhead disappear slightly into the incredible, squeezing heat. "He's... he's really trying to take it."

"He's not trying," Katsuki corrects, his voice a low, controlled rasp. His hips push forward a fraction, meeting his son's guiding pull. "He's doing it. Look at him, Ei. My greedy boy."

The stretch is beyond anything Izuku has ever felt. It's a burning, relentless pressure that threatens to tear him in two. His knuckles are white where he grips them. A low, continuous moan leaks from his lips, his body shaking violently. "Daddy... it's so much..."

"You wanted it," Katsuki reminds him, his own jaw tight with the effort of holding still. He watches the impossible stretch, the way his son's tiny hole strains to accommodate the combined girth. "Now fucking take it. Breathe through it, nerd. Open up for your Daddies."

Izuku sobs, nodding frantically. He forces a shuddering breath in, and on the exhale, he bears down, his internal muscles clenching and then deliberately relaxing. It gives a millimeter. Then another.

"Holy shit," Eijiro breathes, awestruck, as he feels himself sink another impossible inch into that scalding, velvet vise. The visual is obscene. Two thick, veined shafts, side-by-side, slowly disappearing into the slender, trembling boy. "Katsuki..."

"Keep going," Katsuki commands, his red eyes blazing down at Izuku's ruined, determined face. "You're doing so good. Such a perfect little hole for us. Made for this."

Izuku's guidance becomes useless; his hands fall away, slapping wetly against the floorboards as the sheer, invasive bulk of them takes over. He's impaled, slowly, on a thickness that feels like it's rearranging his insides. The burn is blinding, a white-hot agony that bleeds directly into a pleasure so profound it steals his voice. All that comes out is a choked, airless rasp.

Katsuki feels the moment his son's body finally yields, accepting the impossible intrusion. His own cock is sheathed alongside Eijiro's, buried to the hilt in that impossibly tight, dripping heat. The sensation is catastrophic—the squeeze, the shared heat, the feel of Eijiro's pulsing length pressed flush against his own. He lets out a ragged groan, his head dropping forward.

For a long, suspended moment, no one moves. They are locked together, a tableau of depravity. Izuku is utterly speared, his belly slightly distended with the twin bulges. His eyes are rolled back, tears streaming into his hairline, his mouth open in a silent scream.

"You feel that?" Katsuki grinds out, his hips giving a tiny, experimental shift. The movement sends a seismic shock through all three of them. "You feel how fucking full you are? That's us. That's your Daddies, buried in your slutty cunt."

Izuku's body convulses, a fresh gush of wetness soaking the shafts buried inside him. His voice returns in a broken wail. "I feel it! I feel you—both—you're everywhere—"

Eijiro is trembling, his big hands braced on Izuku's thighs. "He's... he's so tight. Even like this. I can feel you, Kats. I can feel your cock moving."

"Then move yours," Katsuki snarls, the command ripping from him.

The first thrust is a seismic, tearing glide. Katsuki and Kirishima move in a ragged, uncoordinated rhythm, their hips driving forward together, then staggering apart. The stretch is a live wire, a constant, brutal burn that whites out Izuku’s vision.

“Oh god—oh fuck—Daddies—!” Izuku’s voice shatters into a scream, his back arching off the floor. His hands scrabble at the wood, nails finding no purchase. He’s a vessel, split open on their combined girth, every inch of his insides molded around them.

“Look at him,” Katsuki grunts, his own breath coming in harsh pants. He watches his son’s face contort, the tears, the slack jaw. “Look at what we’re doing to him. His brain’s fucking melting.”

Kirishima can only groan, his big body shuddering with each push forward. “I can feel you—every time you move—fuck, Kats, it’s like he’s sucking us both in deeper—”

Izuku isn’t forming words anymore. It’s a stream of babble, a litany of shattered sounds. “Yesyesyes—full—so full—big—Daddy’s cock—Kiri’s cock—mine—my cunt—your cunt—”

The pressure builds, a coil winding tighter and tighter in his gut, a frantic, electric pulse centered where they’re pistoning into him. The sensation isn’t localized; it floods his entire nervous system, a tidal wave of heat and pressure and blinding, screaming need.

“He’s gonna break,” Katsuki snarls, a feral grin spreading across his face. He pistons his hips harder, grinding deep, forcing Kirishima’s thrust to sync with his own. “Come on, Ei. Fuck our boy stupid. He wants it.”

“I’m—I’m gonna—” Izuku chokes, his green eyes rolling back. His body seizes, every muscle locking rigid. The orgasm doesn’t crest; it detonates.

A guttural, raw scream tears from his throat as his cunt convulses around the two massive cocks buried inside him. Then he erupts. A torrent of clear fluid jets from him with shocking force, a continuous, drenching spray that soaks his own stomach, chest, and the lower halves of both men fucking him.

“Holy shit!” Kirishima barks, flinching as the warm flood hits his abdomen. “He’s—he’s pissing?”

“It’s not piss, you idiot,” Katsuki rasps, never slowing his brutal pace, fucking his son through the cataclysmic release. “That’s my boy. That’s how good he comes for his Daddies. Look at him. He’s a fucking fountain.”

And Izuku doesn’t stop. The squirming, clamping vice of his orgasm seems to have no end. Each driving thrust from the men milks another pulse, another gush, until the floor beneath them is a slick, shining puddle. His babbling has turned to helpless, hiccupping sobs, his body jerking uncontrollably with each wave.

“It won’t stop,” Izuku weeps, his voice a broken whisper. “It keeps—it keeps coming out of me—Daddy, it feels so good—it hurts—”

“It’s supposed to hurt,” Katsuki breathes, leaning over him, his sweat dripping onto Izuku’s flushed face. “You’re our little squirting slut. Made to get wrecked and leak all over us. Take it. Keep taking it.”

Kirishima, soaked and awestruck, finds a brutal rhythm, his own climax building again. The wet, slapping sounds of their union are obscenely loud in the cabin, punctuated by Izuku’s continuous, choked cries and the sporadic splash of another jet of release.

Izuku’s world has narrowed to the stretch and the burn and the impossible, endless peak. He is nothing but a used, overflowing hole, his mind blissfully empty of everything but the twin cocks claiming him. He is, finally, completely broken open. And it is perfect.

The sight of his son convulsing, gushing, completely mindless beneath them is the final trigger. Katsuki's control snaps. "Fuck—gonna fill you—" he snarls, his hips stuttering.

"Me too—shit—Kats, I can't—" Eijiro grunts, his own rhythm fracturing into frantic, shallow drives.

They come in a brutal, synchronized flood. Katsuki feels the hot pulse of his own release, then the distinct, separate surge of Eijiro's alongside it, their cum mixing deep inside Izuku's impossibly stretched channel. The sensation of being filled sends Izuku into one final, violent paroxysm. A last, weak jet of clear fluid trickles from him as his eyes roll back completely, his body going utterly limp beneath their weight.

The silence that follows is broken only by their ragged breathing. Katsuki and Eijiro stay buried inside the unconscious boy for a long moment, their sweat dripping onto his still-flushed skin.

"Holy shit," Eijiro breathes, finally pulling out with a wet, soft sound. He stares down at Izuku, at the way their combined release immediately begins to leak from the boy's red, gaping hole. "He's... out cold."

Katsuki slowly withdraws, his cock slick and spent. He doesn't look at Eijiro. His red eyes are fixed on his son's face. Izuku's expression is slack, peaceful, tear tracks cutting through the sweat and drying spit. "Yeah," Katsuki says, his voice rough. "He is."

"Did we... fuck him that hard?" Eijiro asks, running a hand through his spiky red hair. He sounds equal parts awed and horrified.

A fierce, possessive pride swells in Katsuki's chest. He kneels, brushing Izuku's damp curls back from his forehead. "We fucked him exactly how he needed," he corrects, his thumb stroking the boy's temple. "Look at him. He's never looked more perfect."

Eijiro sinks onto the nearby couch, staring at the wreckage on the floor—the puddles, the unconscious boy, the evidence of what they just did. "Man, Katsuki... this is..."

"It's what it is," Katsuki cuts him off, his tone brooking no debate. He slides his arms under Izuku, lifting him effortlessly from the wet floor. The boy is a dead weight, head lolling against his father's shoulder. "Get a towel. The clean ones in the bathroom."

Eijiro moves, his movements sluggish. He returns with a towel and watches as Katsuki lays Izuku on the dry part of the couch, beginning to wipe the mess from his stomach and thighs with a startling, almost tender care.

"He's gonna be sore as hell tomorrow," Eijiro murmurs.

Katsuki finishes wiping the last of the fluid from Izuku’s inner thighs. “Sore as hell yesterday, sore as hell today,” he says, his voice a low rumble. He tosses the soiled towel toward the bathroom. “We’ve been fucking him near constantly since we got here, Ei. His little cunt’s probably raw as ground beef.”

Eijiro stares from the couch. “Constantly?”

“He wakes up hungry for it. Goes to sleep full of it.” Katsuki’s thumb traces the delicate skin under Izuku’s closed eye. “Can’t get enough. Like a fucking addiction.”

“And you just… give it to him?”

Katsuki’s red eyes flick up, sharp. “You saw him. You think that’s me giving? That’s him taking. He’s a fucking black hole for cock. My cock.” He lets the possessive word hang in the thick air. “Yours too, now.”

Eijiro shakes his head, a slow, dazed motion. “This is so messed up, man.”

“Yeah.” Katsuki doesn’t disagree. He shifts, sitting on the edge of the couch beside his son’s limp form. “Pass me that blanket.”

Eijiro hands over a crumpled throw from the armchair. They watch in silence as Katsuki drapes it over Izuku, tucking it around his shoulders with a focus that contradicts everything they just did.

“He’s gonna be out for a while,” Katsuki murmurs, more to himself than to Eijiro.

“You’ve done that before? Made him… pass out?”

A dark, proud smirk touches Katsuki’s mouth. “A few times. Never with a second dick in him, though. That was new.” He leans back, the couch creaking. “He came harder than I’ve ever seen. Screamed himself hoarse. You heard it.”

Eijiro’s gaze drops to his own hands. They’re trembling slightly. “I felt it. The way he clenched down. I thought he was having a seizure.”

“He might as well have been.” Katsuki runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “He’s never squirted like that. Fucking geyser. You impressed, Shitty Hair?”

“I’m… something.” Eijiro lets out a long, shaky breath. “I can’t believe I just… that we…”

“You came in my son’s ass,” Katsuki finishes, blunt and brutal. “While I was in his pussy. We both filled him up. Shut up.”

Izuku stirs then, a soft, pained whimper escaping his lips. His green eyes flutter open, glassy and unfocused. He tries to move and a sharp hiss of air cuts through his teeth.

“Don’t,” Katsuki orders, his hand coming to rest on Izuku’s chest, holding him still. “You’re wrecked.”

“Daddy?” Izuku’s voice is a shredded whisper. He blinks, awareness slowly filtering back in. His gaze finds Eijiro, and a slow, dazed smile touches his swollen lips. “Kiri…”

“Hey, kid,” Eijiro says, the words awkward.

“Hurts,” Izuku confesses, his eyes drifting back to Katsuki. “Everything. It’s… a good hurt.”

“I know it is.” Katsuki’s thumb strokes his collarbone. “You took two grown men, baby. Drank us both dry. You feel how full you are?”

Izuku’s breath hitches. A faint blush rises on his freckled cheeks. He gives a tiny, tentative nod. “I feel… leaking.”

“You are.” Katsuki’s smirk returns. “Our cum’s probably dripping out of you right now onto the blanket. Making a mess.”

Eijiro shifts uncomfortably. “Should he… clean up or something?”

“Later.” Katsuki’s attention doesn’t leave Izuku’s face. “Let him marinate in it. Let him remember what he is.”

Izuku’s eyes slip closed again, a contented, exhausted sigh leaving him. “Your slut, Daddy.”

“Damn right.” Katsuki looks over at Eijiro, his expression hardening into something unreadable. “You’re in this now. You don’t get to be shocked. You don’t get to judge. You fucked him. You liked it. You’re coming back.”

Eijiro meets his friend’s gaze. The conflict is plain on his face—the horror, the shame, the undeniable, gut-deep arousal still humming in his veins. He looks at Izuku, small and used and peaceful under the blanket, and something in him settles. Resignation. Acceptance. Something darker.

“Yeah,” Eijiro says, the word final. “I’m in it.”