The living room is dark except for the flickering blue light of the television. Katsuki is sprawled on the large sectional, one arm along the back. He glances over as Izuku hovers in the archway.

"You gonna stand there all night?"

"No. Just… seeing what you’re watching."

"Nothing. Come sit."

Izuku pads across the plush rug and perches on the opposite cushion. Katsuki watches him for a beat, then shakes his head. He reaches out, his hand closing around Izuku’s wrist. The pull is gentle but absolute. Izuku stumbles into the space against his father’s side, his back to Katsuki’s chest. Katsuki’s arm settles around his shoulders, heavy and warm.

"Better," Katsuki says, his voice a low rumble against Izuku’s ear. He rests his chin on top of Izuku’s head. On screen, some hero documentary plays silently. Katsuki isn’t watching it. His other hand comes to rest on Izuku’s thigh, just above the knee. His thumb begins a slow, absent stroke.

Izuku tries to breathe normally. The heat of his father is everywhere. The smell of him—clean sweat and that sharp, familiar nitroglycerin tang—fills Izuku’s lungs. He feels dizzy with it. He shifts, trying to ease the sudden, aching pressure between his legs.

Katsuki’s hand stills. His fingers press down slightly, feeling the muscle of Izuku’s thigh tense. Then his thumb moves inward, a deliberate inch. It brushes the inseam of Izuku’s soft sleep shorts.

"You’re wet," Katsuki says. It isn’t a question. His voice holds no surprise, only a flat, factual tone.

Izuku’s entire body goes rigid. "I’m not—"

"Don’t." The word cuts him off. Katsuki’s hand doesn’t move away. "I can feel the heat through the fabric. You’re soaked." His chin lifts from Izuku’s head. "Look at me."

Izuku turns his head, just enough to see his father’s profile in the dim light. Katsuki’s crimson eyes are fixed on him, unblinking.

"The toys came today," Katsuki says, as if discussing groceries. "A wand. A realistic silicone cock. Good quality. Better than that cheap vibrator."

"You… bought them?" Izuku’s voice is a thread.

"I said I would." Katsuki’s thumb strokes the damp cotton again. Izuku shudders. "You don’t have to use your hands anymore. Or hide. I can help you with them."

"Help me?"

"Show you how they work. Where they feel best." Katsuki’s gaze drops to Izuku’s mouth. "You don’t have to be confused. Or ashamed. I can take care of it."

Izuku’s mind screams a dozen protests. His body betrays every one. A fresh pulse of wetness leaves him, making the fabric cling. He feels it. Knows Katsuki must feel the proof against his leg.

"I can’t," Izuku whispers, but it’s a plea, not a refusal.

"You can." Katsuki’s arm tightens around him. "Just say yes, Izuku."

The name, in that tone, undoes him. It’s not ‘Daddy’ now. It’s something else. A claim. Izuku’s resistance crumbles into a shaky exhale. He gives a single, barely perceptible nod.

Katsuki’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes deepens, satisfied. "Good boy," he says. He shifts, turning Izuku fully toward him on the couch. "Now. Let’s see what we’re working with."

Katsuki stands, the weight of him leaving the couch making Izuku feel suddenly cold and exposed. He watches his father cross the dark room to a sleek, low cabinet. Katsuki opens it, retrieves two boxes, and carries them back. He sets them on the coffee table with a soft thud.

"Open them," Katsuki says, settling back onto the couch, closer now.

Izuku’s hands tremble as he reaches for the first box. The cardboard is smooth, unmarked. Inside, nestled in foam, is a heavy, black wand vibrator. It looks industrial, powerful. The second box holds a silicone dildo, a deep flesh tone, veined and uncircumcised, with a weight and curve that feels obscenely real in his hand.

"They’re… big."

"They’re the right size," Katsuki corrects, his voice calm. "Now, the shorts. Off."

Izuku freezes. The command hangs in the air between them, a line he has to cross with his own hands. He looks up at his father’s face, searching for any hint of mockery or disgust. He finds only patient expectation.

"Daddy…"

"You nodded yes, Izuku. This is what yes looks like." Katsuki leans forward, his fingers hooking into the waistband of Izuku’s shorts. "I can do it. Or you can. Your choice."

Izuku’s breath hitches. He looks down at his father’s fingers, hooked in the soft cotton of his shorts. The choice isn’t a choice. He nods, a tiny, defeated motion. Katsuki’s hands are efficient, impersonal. He pulls the shorts and the damp panties beneath them down Izuku’s thighs in one smooth motion. The cool air of the penthouse hits Izuku’s exposed skin, making him shiver. “Arms up,” Katsuki says, and Izuku obeys, letting his father peel his t-shirt over his head. He is left completely bare on the leather couch, the city’s glow painting his skin amber.

Katsuki sits back, his crimson eyes traveling over him. The gaze is clinical, assessing. It feels heavier than a touch. Izuku tries to cover himself, hands moving instinctively to his chest, his thighs.

“Don’t.” Katsuki’s voice is quiet. “Let me see.”

Izuku forces his hands to drop, to rest palms-down on the cool leather. He feels the wetness between his legs, a slick, undeniable truth. Katsuki’s eyes linger there, then drift up to the soft curve of Izuku’s chest, the puffy, dark nipples drawn tight from cold and shame.

“You’re beautiful,” Katsuki states, no inflection. It isn’t a compliment. It’s a fact he’s logging.

“Don’t say that,” Izuku whispers, his face burning.

“Should I lie instead?” Katsuki asks, his voice low. He doesn’t wait for an answer. He picks up the heavy black wand from the coffee table and settles back into the couch. “Come here.”

His hands are on Izuku’s hips, turning him, pulling him backward until Izuku is settled in the vee of his father’s spread thighs, his bare back pressed against Katsuki’s clothed chest. The soft cotton of Katsuki’s t-shirt is a rough contrast to Izuku’s skin. Katsuki’s arms come around him, caging him.

“Daddy…”

“Hush.” Katsuki’s breath is warm against his ear. He holds the wand in front of them both, his thumb finding a switch on the handle. A low, deep hum vibrates through the room. “This is the lowest setting. It’s for warming up.”

Katsuki’s thumb shifts on the wand’s handle, and the low hum intensifies slightly. He doesn’t move it toward Izuku’s core. Instead, he brings the broad, vibrating head up, tracing a slow, deliberate path over Izuku’s ribs.

“Sensitive here?” Katsuki murmurs into his ear.

Izuku can only manage a shaky nod, his back arching as the vibration skates over his skin. The wand is warm from being held. It stops just below the swell of his left breast.

“Daddy, please…”

“Please what?” Katsuki’s voice is calm, curious. He presses the humming head against the soft underside of Izuku’s breast, not quite touching the nipple. The sensation is deep, resonant, buzzing through his entire chest. Izuku gasps, his hands flying up to grip his father’s forearms where they cage him.

“Tell me what you need, Izuku.”

“I don’t… I don’t know.” It’s a whimper. The vibration is a maddening tease, so close to where he aches.

“Then I’ll decide.” Katsuki moves the wand in a slow circle, the silicone head brushing the puffy, dark areola. Izuku jerks in his hold, a sharp cry escaping him. “There it is.”

Katsuki settles the wand directly over his nipple. The effect is immediate, electric. Pleasure, sharp and almost too much, radiates from the point of contact, shooting down to clench deep in his belly. Izuku’s head falls back against his father’s shoulder, his mouth open on a silent moan.

“Breathe,” Katsuki instructs, his own breath hot against Izuku’s throat. He holds the wand there, letting the deep thrum work. Izuku’s nipple hardens to a tight, desperate peak under the relentless stimulation. His hips twitch, seeking friction he can’t find.

“It’s too much,” Izuku chokes out, his fingers digging into Katsuki’s arms.

“It’s not.” Katsuki’s voice is absolute. He switches the wand to Izuku’s other nipple, repeating the slow, torturous circle before landing on the target. Izuku sobs, his body bowing. The dual sensations—the overstimulated, throbbing one and the newly assaulted one—make his thoughts blur. Wetness, hot and slick, spills from him onto his own thigh.

“You’re dripping,” Katsuki observes, his gaze fixed on the evidence. He moves the wand away from Izuku’s chest, trailing it down the center of his trembling abdomen. The vibrations follow the path of his happy trail, a teasing promise. “See how your body answers? Even when your mouth doesn’t know how.”

The humming head comes to rest high on his inner thigh, an inch from his soaked cunt. The proximity is agony. Izuku grinds down against nothing, a frantic, involuntary motion.

“Look at you,” Katsuki says, his tone holding a dark kind of wonder. “Begging for it without saying a word.”

“Please,” Izuku gasps, the word finally breaking free. “Please, Daddy.”

“Please, what?”

“Touch me. There.”

Katsuki is silent for a long moment, the wand still humming against his thigh. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He shifts the wand upward, and the broad, vibrating head makes contact with his swollen clit.

Izuku screams.

The sound is raw, torn from him. It’s not pain. It’s a shock of pure, blinding sensation, a direct line to every nerve ending. His legs fly apart, his heels digging into the couch. Katsuki’s arm across his chest is the only thing holding him up.

“That’s it,” Katsuki growls, holding the wand firm against him. “Let it happen.”

Izuku is coming apart. The orgasm builds with terrifying speed, a tsunami dragged from the depths of him by the relentless, deep vibration. He thrashes, sobbing, his vision spotting. He feels the gush before he hears it—a hot rush of fluid soaking his thighs, the couch, his father’s jeans beneath him. The climax rips through him, endless, wracking his slender frame with convulsions.

Katsuki doesn’t stop. He keeps the wand pressed hard against his oversensitive flesh as Izuku writhes and screams through the overstimulation, his cries dissolving into broken, hiccupping pleas.

Only when Izuku goes completely limp, boneless and shuddering, does Katsuki thumb the switch off. The sudden silence is deafening. The only sounds are Izuku’s ragged, wet breaths and the distant hum of the city.

Katsuki sets the wand aside on the couch. He brings his hand—the one not holding Izuku up—down between Izuku’s splayed thighs. His fingers slide through the mess of spend and slickness with a soft, wet sound.

“Good boy,” Katsuki murmurs again, his voice a rough scrape against Izuku’s ear. His fingers, slick with Izuku’s release, slide lower. “So good for me. Taking everything I give you.”

Izuku shudders, a weak, full-body tremor. He’s hollowed out, his mind a blank static. The pad of his father’s middle finger brushes his soaked entrance, and he flinches, oversensitive.

“Shh,” Katsuki soothes, his lips against Izuku’s temple. “Just feeling. You’re so open.” He presses the tip of his finger inside, just past the tight ring of muscle. It’s a slow, inexorable breach. “Look at that. Sucking me in already.”

“Daddy…” Izuku’s voice is a broken thing.

“I know. I know, baby.” Katsuki pushes deeper, his finger sinking to the knuckle inside the hot, clenching wetness. Izuku gasps, his back arching. “There you go. That’s it. My perfect boy.”

He begins to move, a slow, curling drag. The friction is obscene, a wet, soft sound filling the quiet room. Izuku’s hands, which had fallen limp, scramble to find purchase on Katsuki’s thighs.

“You feel that?” Katsuki whispers. “How your body wants it? Even after coming so hard. Greedy thing.”

He adds a second finger, stretching him wider. Izuku cries out, his head thrashing against Katsuki’s shoulder. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“You can take it. You’re taking it so well.” Katsuki’s praise is a constant, low stream. His fingers crook, searching, and brush a spot deep inside that makes Izuku see white. “There. Right there, isn’t it?”

Izuku nods frantically, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His clit throbbing and hard against nothing, a fresh ache building low in his belly.

“Tell me.”

“Y-yes. There. Please, don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Katsuki sets a ruthless rhythm, his fingers pistoning in and out, curling to hit that spot with every thrust. The squelching sound is loud, humiliating, electric. “Listen to you. So wet. So messy for me.”

Izuku is babbling, a stream of “Daddy” and “please” and “more” that he can’t control. His hips rock down, meeting each drive of Katsuki’s hand. The orgasm approaches again, a coiled spring in his core.

“Come on,” Katsuki urges, his breath coming faster now. His own arousal is a hard, thick line pressed against Izuku’s lower back. “Let go. Show me.”

It crashes over him, a wave of pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Izuku screams, his cunt clamping down viscously around his father’s fingers as he spills again, a hot gush soaking Katsuki’s hand and the couch beneath them. His body seizes, held taut in Katsuki’s unyielding grip until the last tremor passes.

Katsuki slowly withdraws his fingers. He brings his glistening hand up between their bodies, turning it in the dim city light. “Beautiful,” he says, almost to himself.

Katsuki brings his glistening fingers to his mouth. His crimson eyes lock on Izuku’s dazed, tear-streaked face as his tongue slides out, slow and deliberate, to lick a broad stripe across his knuckles. He closes his lips around his middle finger, sucking it clean with a soft, wet sound. He pulls it free with a pop. “Salty,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Sweet. All you.”

Izuku watches, paralyzed. His spent body gives a weak, involuntary shudder.