The engine cuts, and the silence is absolute. Izuku stares through the windshield at the cabin, a dark shape nestled against a wall of pines under a heavy gray sky. Snow falls in fat, silent flakes, already dusting the wooden porch. Katsuki’s hand finds his on the center console, callused fingers threading through his. “Surprise,” Katsuki says, his voice low in the quiet.

“Daddy,” Izuku breathes, the word a puff of fog on the cold glass. “It’s… it’s for couples.”

“Yeah.” Katsuki squeezes his hand. “It is. Come on.”

Inside, the heat from the woodstove hits them like a wall, dry and pine-scented. Izuku stands frozen just past the threshold, taking in the exposed beams, the huge rug before a stone fireplace, the single large bed piled with quilts in the loft above. A bottle of wine and two glasses sit on the small kitchen counter. It’s painfully, perfectly romantic. His chest feels too tight. “You did this?”

“Reservations.” Katsuki shrugs out of his leather jacket, hanging it by the door. He watches Izuku’s face. “You’ve been through hell. Deserve something good.”

“This is more than good.” Izuku’s voice cracks. He turns, his green eyes wide and shimmering. “Why?”

Katsuki crosses the space in two strides. He doesn’t answer with words. He cups Izuku’s jaw, his thumb brushing a freckled cheek, and kisses him. It’s slow. Deep. A claiming that tastes like safety and intention. When he pulls back, Izuku is leaning into the touch, lips parted. “Because I wanted to,” Katsuki says, finally. “Now, help me with the bags. I’m making katsudon.”

The afternoon melts into a soft, warm blur. Izuku unpacks, his fingers tracing the fine grain of the pine walls as he moves. Katsuki cooks, the familiar, comforting sounds of chopping and sizzling filling the small space. They eat at the little table by the window, watching the snow deepen, a silent world wrapping around their bubble of light and heat. Izuku finishes every bite, his foot finding Katsuki’s under the table.

Later, they sink into the deep couch facing the fire Katsuki built. A classic All Might movie plays on the screen, but neither is watching. Izuku is curled into Katsuki’s side, his head on his father’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeat beneath his ear. Katsuki’s arm is a heavy, warm weight around his shoulders. The hero’s triumphant speech becomes white noise under the crackle of the fire.

Katsuki’s hand strokes up and down his arm. “Happy?”

Izuku nods against him. “Yeah.” It’s more than happy. It’s a fullness, a rightness, that drowns out the last whispers of shame. Here, there is no Aizawa, no mother, no confused dreams. There is just this. His father’s solid warmth. The scent of smoke and him. The promise in the single bed above them. He tilts his head up. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Katsuki looks down at him, the firelight dancing in his crimson eyes. He doesn’t smile, but his expression is soft, open in a way Izuku rarely sees. He bends his head and kisses him again. This one is different. Not a claim, but an invitation. Slow. Searching. Izuku melts into it, a small sound escaping his throat as he twists to get closer, his hand fisting in Katsuki’s shirt.

The kiss deepens, turns hungry. Izuku is climbing into his lap before he even thinks, knees bracketing Katsuki’s thighs on the couch. He can feel the hard line of his father’s erection through his jeans, pressing against his own aching heat. He grinds down, desperate, and Katsuki’s hands grip his hips, stilling him. “Izuku,” he rasps against his mouth.

“Please,” Izuku whispers, kissing along his jaw, his stubble scratching his lips. “I’m so… I need…” He can’t form the sentence. The love, the safety, the happiness—it’s all fused into a single, sharp point of want. He grinds down again, and this time, Katsuki lets him, his hands sliding down to cup Izuku’s ass, pulling him harder against the thick ridge of his cock.

Katsuki’s hands slide from his hips to the hem of Izuku’s sweater. “Up,” he commands, his voice a rough scrape against Izuku’s ear. Izuku obeys, raising his arms, letting his father peel the soft fabric up and over his head. The cool cabin air kisses his skin, raising goosebumps. Katsuki does the same with his own shirt, tossing it aside, and the sight of his bare chest—the thick muscle, the scars, the dark trail of hair leading down—makes Izuku’s mouth go dry.

“Bed,” Katsuki says, standing and lifting Izuku with him as if he weighs nothing. He carries him toward the loft stairs, pausing only to toe off his boots. Izuku clings to his shoulders, kissing whatever skin he can reach—his neck, his collarbone—as they ascend into the intimate space above. The quilts are a deep burgundy in the firelight flickering up from below.

Katsuki lays him down in the center of the large bed and follows, his weight a delicious pressure. They make out, slow and deep, as the rest of their clothes are pushed and kicked away. Jeans, boxers, socks—a scattered path to the bed. Then there is only skin. Izuku gasps into Katsuki’s mouth as their bodies meet fully, his father’s heat searing against him from chest to thigh.

“So small,” Katsuki murmurs, breaking the kiss to look down at him. His big, scarred hands begin to move, mapping Izuku’s body with a possessive reverence. They glide over the dip of his waist, the swell of his hips, the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. They cup the soft, budding weight of his breasts, his thumbs brushing over the puffy, inverted nipples. Izuku shivers, arching into the touch.

“Daddy…”

“Shh. Let me look.” Katsuki lowers his head, his breath hot. He takes one nipple into his mouth, his tongue working insistently against the tight bud. The suction is firm, wet, relentless. Izuku whines, his fingers tangling in his father’s spiky hair. He feels the moment it happens—a sudden, shocking pop of sensation as the nipple is drawn fully out, hard and pebbled under Katsuki’s tongue. A sharp, sweet ache radiates through his chest.

Katsuki releases it with a soft sound, admiring his work. The nipple stays out, exposed and sensitive to the air. “There,” he says, his voice thick. He moves to the other breast, repeating the process with the same focused intensity, sucking and laving until the second nipple surrenders, popping free. Izuku is trembling, his back arched off the bed.

“They’re perfect,” Katsuki says, leaning back on his heels between Izuku’s spread thighs. His crimson eyes rake over Izuku’s naked form, flushed and waiting. “All of you. Fucking perfect.”

Izuku feels exposed, seen in a way that makes his pussy clench, a fresh wave of wetness soaking the sheets beneath him. “It feels… a lot.”

“Good.” Katsuki’s hands return, palming his breasts, rolling the newly erect nipples between his fingers. “It’s supposed to. This is me learning you.” He bends, kissing a line down Izuku’s sternum, over his quivering stomach. “Your first time. My first time with you. It’s gonna be slow. It’s gonna be everything.”

Izuku’s breath hitches. “You promise?”

Katsuki looks up, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He settles lower, his broad shoulders pushing Izuku’s thighs wider apart. The cool air hits Izuku’s soaked cunt, and he flinches. Katsuki’s hands soothe his thighs. “Easy. Just looking.”

And he does. He looks for a long, silent moment, his breathing harsh. Izuku can feel the heat of his stare on his most intimate place. Then, Katsuki leans in. He doesn’t use his tongue. He presses his face there, inhaling deeply, his nose nudging through coarse curls. A ragged groan vibrates against Izuku’s skin. “Fuck. You smell so good. Gonna be mine. All mine.”

“Daddy, please…”

“Please what?”

"Please eat me," Izuku whispers, the words trembling out of him. "Daddy, please. Use your mouth."

Katsuki’s answer is a low, hungry sound. He doesn’t hesitate. He leans in and licks a broad, flat stripe from his entrance all the way up to his clit.

Izuku cries out, his back bowing off the bed. The sensation is electric, wet and hot and so direct it whites out his vision for a second. Katsuki’s hands clamp on his thighs, holding him open, and he does it again. Slower this time. His tongue is rough, purposeful, mapping every fold.

"Tastes like mine already," Katsuki growls against him, his breath puffing hot on oversensitive skin. "Fucking perfect."

He settles in, his focus absolute. He licks into him, deep and searching, then circles his entrance with a relentless pressure that makes Izuku sob. Every flick, every suck is deliberate, a study in wringing out every drop of sensation. Katsuki eats pussy like he does everything else: with brutal, unwavering competence.

"You’re so wet," Katsuki murmurs, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening. "Dripping for me. Let me see that little dick of yours."

Izuku whines, confused, until Katsuki’s thumb finds his clit and presses. It’s swollen, throbbing, and as Katsuki rubs firm circles, Izuku feels it—the hard, eager nub of flesh, more prominent than he’s ever felt it. "Oh," he gasps.

"There it is," Katsuki says, a dark approval in his voice. He lowers his head and sucks it into his mouth.

The world fractures. Izuku screams, his hands flying to fist in the quilts. The suction is incredible, wet and tight and focused entirely on that one hyper-sensitive point. Katsuki sucks hard, his tongue flicking the underside, and Izuku feels like he’s being unraveled from the core out. His hips jerk uncontrollably.

Katsuki pins his hips down with one heavy forearm, never breaking his rhythm. He sucks and licks at his t-dick like he’s starving for it, groaning against his skin. The vibrations make Izuku see stars.

"Daddy, I’m— I can’t—"

"You can," Katsuki rasps, lifting his head for a second. His mouth is slick, his eyes blown black with want. "You’re gonna come on my tongue. Give it to me."

He dives back in, licking and sucking with renewed fervor. One of his hands leaves Izuku’s thigh, and Izuku feels two thick fingers press against his soaked entrance. They push inside in one smooth, stretching glide.

Izuku shatters. The orgasm hits him like a train, a blinding, convulsive wave that rips a raw scream from his throat. His cunt clenches violently around Katsuki’s fingers, and then he’s squirting, a hot gush of it painting Katsuki’s chin, his cheeks, his waiting mouth.

Katsuki drinks it all, groaning against him, his tongue working him through the pulses, lapping up every drop from his own skin. He gentles only when Izuku’s cries turn to broken whimpers.

He finally lifts his head, breathing hard. He slides his fingers out slowly, watching Izuku’s spent body tremble. He brings them to his own mouth, sucking them clean with a filthy, satisfied sound. "Came so beautiful," he says, his voice gravel. "You taste so good, baby boy."

Izuku’s hands find his father’s face, slick with his own release, and he pulls him up into a desperate, messy kiss. Katsuki groans into his mouth, his weight settling fully over him, and Izuku can feel it—the thick, hard length of his father’s cock sliding through the wet mess between his thighs, nudging against his swollen, sensitive entrance.

“Daddy,” Izuku breathes against his lips, his hips canting up, seeking the pressure.

Katsuki breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against Izuku’s. His breathing is ragged. “You ready?”

Izuku doesn’t answer with words. He hooks his hands behind his knees, pulling them back toward his shoulders, exposing himself completely. He uses his own fingers to spread his pussy wider, the slick flesh glistening in the low light. “Please,” he whispers, his green eyes wide and dark. “Daddy, please. Fuck me. I need it rough. I need it hard.”

Katsuki’s control shatters. A raw, animal sound tears from his throat. He braces himself over Izuku, one hand gripping the headboard, the other guiding the blunt, weeping head of his cock to Izuku’s entrance. “Look at me,” he commands, his voice a guttural rasp.

Izuku obeys, his gaze locked on his father’s fierce crimson eyes.

Katsuki pushes.

The stretch is immense, a burning, relentless pressure that steals the air from Izuku’s lungs. He cries out, a sharp, broken sound, as the thick crown of Katsuki’s cock breaches him, spreading him open in a way fingers and toys never could. It’s too much. It’s everything.

“Fuck,” Katsuki hisses, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding still. His face is a mask of pained ecstasy. “So fucking tight. Christ, Izuku.”

Izuku is panting, tears welling in his eyes from the overwhelming sensation of being filled. “More,” he chokes out. “Daddy, more.”

Katsuki sinks deeper, a slow, inexorable slide that burns and stretches and claims. Izuku feels every inch, the heavy, veined weight of him, the unfamiliar fullness reaching deep inside. He can feel the coarse hair at the base of his father’s cock against his skin. When Katsuki is finally sheathed to the hilt, their hips flush, they both go utterly still.

“You feel that?” Katsuki grinds out, his voice shaking. “That’s me. All of me. In my boy.”

Izuku nods, overwhelmed, his cunt fluttering wildly around the intrusion. The initial burn is fading, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that borders on pain but feels like completion. “You’re so big,” he whimpers.

“You’re made for me,” Katsuki says, lowering his head to capture Izuku’s mouth in a searing kiss. He begins to move.

The first withdrawal is almost worse than the entry—a shocking emptiness—but then Katsuki thrusts back in, hard and deep, and Izuku screams into the kiss. It’s a brutal, perfect rhythm. Katsuki fucks him with a focused, driving intensity, each thrust punching the air from Izuku’s lungs, each retreat a sweet agony. The wet, slapping sound of their skin fills the loft, mingling with their ragged moans.

“That’s it,” Katsuki growls, his pace relentless. “Take it. Take your daddy’s cock.”

Izuku is unraveling, his mind blank, reduced to pure sensation. The drag of Katsuki’s thick shaft inside him, the bite of his hands on his thighs, the heat of his body covering him. It’s rough. It’s hard. It’s exactly what he begged for.

“Gonna fill you up,” Katsuki promises, his thrusts becoming sharper, more erratic. “Gonna put a baby in you. My baby.”

The words trigger something primal in Izuku. His hips snap up, fucking himself back onto his father’s cock with a wild, desperate rhythm. “Do it,” he gasps, his voice breaking. “Put a baby in me, Daddy. Fill me up with your baby batter. Breed my pussy, please, breed it—”

Katsuki’s breath hitches, a sharp, stunned sound. Then a groan rips from his chest, raw and hungry. “Fuck,” he snarls, his thrusts turning punishing, driving into Izuku with a force that shakes the bedframe. “Gonna fuck you pregnant tonight. Gonna pump you so full of my cum you’ll feel it for days.”

“Yes,” Izuku sobs, his nails digging into the backs of his own thighs. “I’m not on birth control, Daddy, I can have all of Daddy’s babies, I’ll be so good, I’ll carry them—”

Katsuki slams into him, his rhythm losing all finesse, becoming a brutal, possessive piston. “This is why I made you,” he grunts, sweat dripping from his chin onto Izuku’s heaving chest. “This pussy. This womb. Mine. I fucked her just for this. Just so I could fuck my own son’s womb pregnant.”

The confession is filthy, sacrilegious, and it makes Izuku clench around him so tight Katsuki sees white. “Yours,” Izuku whimpers, his body arching. “Only yours. Daddy’s cock made this pussy, made it for this—”

“Damn right,” Katsuki growls. He hooks his hands under Izuku’s knees, spreading him wider, sinking deeper with every brutal thrust. The wet, slapping sounds are obscenely loud. “Gonna see you swell with it. Gonna watch my kid move inside you.”

Izuku’s mind is gone, consumed by the fantasy, by the thick, claiming stretch of his father inside him. “Wanna be fat with your baby,” he babbles, the words tumbling out unfiltered. “Wanna give you a son. Wanna be your good boy and your good girl all at once.”

Katsuki’s control snaps. He releases Izuku’s legs, letting them fall around his waist, and leans down, crushing Izuku into the mattress. He captures his mouth in a devouring kiss, fucking his tongue in time with his cock. “Close,” he rasps against his lips. “You gonna come for me? Gonna come on Daddy’s cock while I fill you up?”

Izuku nods frantically, tears streaming into his hairline. He’s right there, the coil in his gut wound impossibly tight, every nerve screaming. “With you,” he pleads. “I wanna feel you come inside me, Daddy, please—”

Katsuki’s hips stutter. A guttural, broken roar tears from his throat as he buries himself to the hilt and pulses, hot and deep. Izuku feels the first thick, wet surge inside him, and it triggers his own climax—a silent, seizing wave that whites out his vision. His cunt clenches, milking his father’s cock through every shuddering release, and then he’s squirting, a frantic, uncontrollable spray that soaks the sheets beneath them in a hot gush.

Katsuki collapses on top of him, his weight a solid, grounding heat. They lie there, panting into the quiet, the only sound their ragged breaths and the crackle of the woodstove below. Katsuki is still inside him, softening, but Izuku can feel the wet, leaking proof of his claim.

After a long moment, Katsuki shifts, pulling out slowly. Izuku winces at the sensitivity, at the sudden, empty ache. Katsuki rolls onto his side, gathering Izuku against his chest. He doesn’t speak. His hand just slides down Izuku’s stomach, pressing possessively over his lower belly.

Izuku starts to cry. It’s a quiet, shuddering thing, tears welling up and spilling over without a sound, tracking through the sweat on his temples. His father’s hand is a warm, heavy weight over his lower belly, and the feeling of being so profoundly claimed, so utterly filled and now marked, cracks something open inside him.

Katsuki feels the tremors. He shifts, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at Izuku’s face. His thumb brushes a tear away. “Hey.” His voice is rough, used. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know,” Izuku whispers, his voice thick. He turns his face into Katsuki’s chest, hiding. “It’s just… a lot. It’s so much.”

“Good a lot?”

Izuku nods against him, his fingers curling into the hard muscle of Katsuki’s side. “The best. It’s just… you planned all this. You brought me here. You made me feel…” He trails off, the words too big, too fragile.

“Made you feel what?” Katsuki’s hand slides up to cradle the back of Izuku’s head, his touch firm, grounding.

“Loved,” Izuku whispers, the word cracking on a sob. He turns his face up, green eyes swimming, meeting the steady crimson gaze above him. “Unconditionally loved for who I really am. A boy. A son.” He swallows, his throat working. “And even… a potential mother.” A fresh wave of tears spills over, hot and silent. “I love you so much. Not just as my father. As my… everything. I never want to leave your arms again.”

Katsuki’s expression melts. It’s the softest look Izuku has ever seen on his father’s face—the hard lines of his jaw and brow gone slack with a tenderness that steals the air from the room. He cups Izuku’s damp cheek, his thumb stroking over the freckles there. His crimson eyes are bright, shimmering with unshed tears.

“Izuku,” he says, his voice a raw scrape. “Look at me.”

Izuku blinks up, his own tears still falling.

“I have always loved you,” Katsuki says, each word deliberate, heavy with meaning. “From the second you were born. When you came out to us… my love didn’t change. Not for a fucking second. It just… focused. It became about protecting the real you.” A tear finally tracks through the stubble on his cheek. “I love you more than anything else in this world. More than my fame. More than being a hero. More than I ever loved your mother. Just… more. Always and forever more.”

Izuku’s breath hitches. He brings a trembling hand up to cover his father’s where it rests on his face. “Daddy…”

“You’re my son,” Katsuki continues, his gaze unwavering. “My boy. And if you want to be my girl sometimes too… to carry a part of us… that’s still you. All you. And I love every version. I love the you that’s here, right now, in my arms.”

He leans down and kisses Izuku, slow and deep, a sealing of the vow. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against Izuku’s. “You never have to leave my arms. You’re home.”

They lie like that for a long time, wrapped in the quiet and the fading heat of their bodies. Katsuki’s hand never leaves Izuku’s belly, a possessive, comforting weight. Outside, the snow continues to fall, burying the cabin in silence.