Katsuki is dreaming.

The memory is perfect. The crack in the door. The slice of lamplight cutting across his mother’s bedroom floor. Izuku is on his bed, knees spread, back arched. The black silicone toy disappears into him, glistening. His small tits bounce with each thrust, those puffy dark nipples hard. Katsuki watches, breath held, from the hall. He sees the tremble start in Izuku’s thighs, hears the choked gasp. Then the flood. A hot, clear stream that soaks the sheets beneath him. In the dream, Katsuki’s own body aches with a need so sharp it’s pain. He wishes it was him. He wishes that slick heat was for him.

The memory shifts. The door swings open. Izuku stands there, beautiful and ruined, green curls stuck to his damp forehead. He doesn’t speak. His forest-green eyes lock on Katsuki’s. His hand slides down his own stomach, fingers slipping through the mess between his thick thighs. He steps closer. Katsuki can’t move. Izuku’s fingers, slick and warm, touch his chest. Then his stomach. Then lower. He’s touching himself again, right over Katsuki, his movements frantic. “For you, Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, his melodic voice ragged. “All for you.”

The squirt comes. Hot. Sticky. It hits Katsuki’s skin in a heavy splash. Then another. And another. It doesn’t stop. It’s a torrent, drenching him, soaking through his shirt, pooling in the waistband of his boxers. It’s too much. Unnatural. The warmth turns thick. The clear liquid darkens. The sweet, musky scent twists into something metallic, coppery, wrong.

Katsuki’s eyes snap open in the dark.

He’s gasping, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. The dream clings, viscous. But the sensation doesn’t fade. There is a hot, wet pulse hitting his chest. Again. And again. It’s real. He’s awake, and something is spraying onto him.

The bed is warm where Yo should be. Katsuki turns his head and the warmth is wet. It’s a hot, rhythmic spray against his cheek, his neck, his bare chest. In the gloom, he sees the dark arc of it, hears the wet, pulsing hiss. Yo is on his back beside him, eyes wide and unblinking at the ceiling. His throat is cut, gaping open. Yo is gasping. A wet, sucking sound. Blood bubbles over his lips, fills his mouth, spills down his chin in a thick rivulet.

Standing beside the bed, haloed by the faint light from the hall, is Izuku. He is naked. His slender body is painted with dark, gleaming streaks. In his right hand, held loose and casual as a cooking spoon, is the large kitchen knife. It drips. A steady *pat-pat-pat* onto the carpet. His left hand is between his own thighs, moving in a slow, slick rhythm. He’s touching himself. His forest-green eyes are fixed on Katsuki. They are wide, bright, utterly serene.

“You see, baby boy?” Izuku’s voice is a soft, melodic whisper. It’s the voice that used to read him bedtime stories. “You see what happens?”

Katsuki can’t move. His body is stone. His mind is a white, screaming static. He watches another jet of blood pulse from Yo’s neck. It hits his collarbone, hot as bathwater. The coppery smell fills his nose, his mouth, it’s in the back of his throat. He chokes.

“He looked like me.” Izuku’s fingers work faster. A soft, wet sound joins the dripping. “He touched you like I would. He used my Kacchan.” His breath hitches. A small, pleasured sigh. “I couldn’t let that stand.”

“Mommy.” The word is a croak, torn from a frozen throat.

“I’m sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, his voice a broken melody. The knife clatters to the carpet, a dull, final sound. “I had to. He’s not me. He can’t have you.” He swings a leg over Katsuki’s hips, straddling him. The warm, soaked heat of Izuku’s pussy grinds against the hard line of Katsuki’s cock. The friction is electric, obscene. Izuku’s thighs, slick with blood and his own arousal, bracket Katsuki’s waist. “You’re mine. My baby boy.”

Katsuki’s breath comes in ragged hitches. He’s pinned. By the body on top of him. By the corpse cooling beside him. By the dark, adoring eyes staring down. His hands twitch at his sides, fingers digging into the sheets. He can’t look away from Izuku’s face.

“Don’t you want me?” Izuku murmurs, rocking his hips in a slow, maddening circle. The slick noise is loud in the silent room. “Don’t you want Mommy?”

“Mommy,” Katsuki chokes out. It’s not a denial. It’s a plea.

“Yes,” Izuku breathes, his hands coming to frame Katsuki’s face. They leave sticky, dark smears on his cheeks. “You do. I know you do. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt you watching.” He leans down, his lips brushing Katsuki’s ear. “Stop pretending. Fuck me. Fuck the pussy you came from. This is where you belong.”

The words are a detonation. Every barrier Katsuki built, every lie he told himself, shatters. A raw, guttural sound tears from his throat. His hands fly up, gripping Izuku’s slender hips hard enough to bruise. He grinds up against him, a frantic, desperate thrust.

“Please,” Izuku begs, his melodic voice cracking. He’s shaking. “Please, Kacchan. I need it. I need you. Be inside me. Claim what’s yours.”

“I want you,” Katsuki gasps, his voice raw and broken, his hips bucking up against the slick heat grinding down on him. “Mommy, fuck, I want you so bad. I’ve always wanted you.”

Izuku moans, a high, sweet sound. His hands slide from Katsuki’s face to his chest, smearing more of Yo’s blood between them. “Tell me,” he whispers, his breath hot against Katsuki’s mouth. “Tell Mommy everything.”

“I wanted to fuck you in my bed,” Katsuki rasps, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Izuku’s hips. “I wanted to make you scream. I wanted to taste you. I wanted you to suck my cock and look up at me with those fucking eyes.”

“Yes,” Izuku breathes, rocking faster. The wet slide of his pussy against Katsuki’s length is obscenely loud. “What else, baby?”

“I wanted to make you cum so hard you forgot your name. I wanted to fill you up. I wanted you to be so full of me you couldn’t walk.” Katsuki’s words are a desperate, gushing confession. “I wanted it to be my name you said. Not any one else's. Just mine.”

Izuku’s rhythm stutters. A fresh flood of warmth soaks Katsuki’s stomach, distinct from the blood. “It’s only ever been yours, Kacchan,” he whimpers. “It’s only ever been for you.”

“Please,” Katsuki begs, the word ripped from a place deeper than pride. He feels like a child, desperate and wanting. “Please, Mommy. Let me. Let me have you. I need to be inside you. I need to feel you.”

Izuku rises up on his knees, his body a pale, blood-streaked silhouette in the dark. He reaches between them, his slender fingers wrapping around Katsuki’s cock. He’s thick, throbbing, leaking. Izuku guides him, notching the head against his soaked entrance. He sinks down, slow, an excruciating inch.

Katsuki’s vision whites out. The heat is unbearable. Tight. Clenching. It’s a wet, searing grip that steals the air from his lungs. Izuku takes him deeper, a low, continuous moan vibrating in his throat. He bottoms out, his ass meeting Katsuki’s thighs, and they both go still.

“You feel that?” Izuku whispers, his voice trembling. “That’s where you came from. You’re home.”

Katsuki can only nod, a choked sound escaping him. He’s buried in a heat he’s fantasized about for years, surrounded by the coppery smell of death and the sweet, musky scent of his mother’s arousal. The contradiction should shatter him. It only makes him harder.

“Move,” Izuku begs, his nails biting into Katsuki’s pecs. “Fuck your Mommy. Show me how much you missed me.”

Katsuki’s hands tighten on Izuku’s hips. With a raw, guttural snarl, he flips them. The movement is violent, decisive. Izuku’s back hits the blood-soaked mattress with a wet thud, his green eyes wide with shock and rapture. Katsuki pins him, knees shoved up to his shoulders, spreading him obscenely wide. He doesn’t hesitate. He drives back into that searing heat in one brutal, deep thrust.

“Mine,” Katsuki grunts, the word a punch of air. He pulls out and slams home again. The wet, filthy sound of their coupling fills the room, a rhythmic slap of skin on skin, a slick, squelching plunge.

“Yes!” Izuku cries out, his head thrown back, throat exposed. His fingers scramble against Katsuki’s sweat-slick back. “Harder, Kacchan. Fuck your Mommy harder.”

Katsuki pants, his hips pistoning, a jackhammer rhythm that shakes the bedframe. “Just take it. You wanted this. You killed for this.” He leans down, his mouth hovering over Izuku’s. “This what you dreamed about, Mommy? Me fucking you stupid with a dead guy in bed?”

“Every night,” Izuku gasps, his body jolting with each deep stroke. His eyes are glazed, worshipful. “I dreamed of your cock. I dreamed of you ruining me. I touched myself thinking of you.”

“I know,” Katsuki snarls. “I watched. I fucking came in my pants watching you squirt all over that toy.” His pace never falters, each thrust punching a choked moan from Izuku’s lips. “You think I didn’t know? You think I didn’t smell you on your fingers after?”

Izuku’s legs tighten around him. “You never said anything.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Katsuki’s voice cracks. He fucks into him with a punishing intensity. “‘Mommy, let me help you with that’?”

“Yes!” Izuku screams, his back arching off the bed. A fresh gush of warmth floods between them, his pussy clenching in a tight, rhythmic pulse around Katsuki’s length. “I wanted you to! I wanted you to push me down and take over. I wanted you to claim me.”

Katsuki’s rhythm stutters. He buries his face in the crook of Izuku’s neck, his breath hot and ragged against the sticky, blood-flecked skin. “I was scared,” he admits, the confession torn from him. “I wanted you so bad it made me hate everyone else.”

Izuku’s hands come up to cradle his face, forcing their eyes to meet. “You don’t have to be scared anymore, baby. I’m here. I’ll always be here. No one else. Just us.”

“Just us,” Katsuki echoes, his thrusts deepening, turning slower, more deliberate. He grinds into him, seeking a depth that feels like oblivion. “My crazy, beautiful, fucking psychotic Mommy.”

“Yours,” Izuku whimpers, his body yielding completely. “All yours. Forever.”

Katsuki’s mouth crashes down onto Izuku’s, a violent, claiming kiss that tastes of copper and salt. Izuku moans into it, his lips parting, his tongue meeting Katsuki’s in a wet, desperate slide. The metallic tang of Yo’s blood mixes with the clean sweat on their skin, a forbidden cocktail that makes Katsuki groan, his hips driving deeper.

“You taste like him,” Katsuki rasps against his mouth, not stopping the relentless pace of his thrusts. “You taste like death.”

“Do you care?” Izuku gasps, his fingers tangling in Katsuki’s spiky hair, pulling him closer. His breath hitches with every deep, penetrating stroke. “Does it make you hate me?”

Katsuki answers by biting Izuku’s lower lip, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make him cry out. “It just makes me harder,” he snarls. “You’re fucking insane. You killed a guy to get my dick. That’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Izuku’s laugh is a breathy, broken sound. “I’d do it again. I’ll do it every time. Anyone who touches you.” His legs lock tighter around Katsuki’s waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. “This is mine. You’re mine.”

“Say it again,” Katsuki demands, his rhythm faltering for a second, his forehead pressed to Izuku’s. His crimson eyes are blown wide, pupils swallowing the sharp red. “Tell me who I belong to.”

“You belong to Mommy,” Izuku whispers, the melodic, soothing tone utterly at odds with the carnage around them and the filthy, wet sounds of their fucking. “My beautiful, perfect baby boy. My Kacchan. No one else gets to have you. No one else gets to see you like this.”

Katsuki shudders, a full-body tremor that starts where they’re joined and radiates out. He buries his face in Izuku’s neck, his thrusts turning slower, grinding, seeking a different kind of friction. “I’ve been so empty,” he confesses, the words muffled against freckled skin. “Fucking everyone… trying to feel anything. It was all just… nothing. Just waiting for you.”

Izuku’s hands soften, moving from a grip to a caress along Katsuki’s sweat-slick back. “I know, baby. I watched. It broke my heart every time. But I knew you’d come home. I knew you’d need your Mommy eventually.”

“I need you now,” Katsuki says, his voice cracking. He pulls back to look at him, really look. Izuku is streaked with drying blood, his green curls matted, his eyes dark with a possessive love so absolute it should be terrifying. It is. And it’s the only thing Katsuki has ever wanted.

“I want to breed you,” Katsuki snarls, the words raw and guttural against Izuku’s throat. His hips piston, a brutal, unrelenting rhythm that drives the confession deeper with every thrust. “I want to fuck my baby into you, Mommy. I want to put a kid in your womb. My kid.”

Izuku’s breath hitches, his body clenching tight around Katsuki’s cock. “Kacchan—”

“I’m not wearing a condom,” Katsuki gasps, his forehead slick with sweat as he presses it to Izuku’s. “I’m raw in you. You feel that? That’s me. All me. I want you to have all my babies. Every fucking one.”

“Yes,” Izuku whimpers, his hands scrambling up Katsuki’s back, nails digging half-moons into the muscle. “Please, baby. Breed your Mommy. Fill me up. Make it so no one else can ever have me.”

Katsuki’s rhythm turns frantic, feral. He’s chasing it now, the peak he’s been denying himself for years. The wet, slapping sounds of their bodies are obscenely loud in the bloody room. “You’d let me?” he grunts, his voice breaking. “You’d really let me knock you up?”

Izuku’s green eyes are wide, dark pools of absolute surrender. “I’d let you do anything. Anything you want. This body is yours. It’s always been yours.” He arches, taking Katsuki even deeper, a fresh gush of warmth flooding between them. “It’s where you started. Let it be where you start something new.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki chokes out. The image sears his brain—Izuku round with his child, his mother’s belly swollen with his seed. The taboo of it is a lightning strike down his spine. He drives into him harder, deeper, as if he could physically reach that possibility. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna pump you so full you’ll taste it for days.”

“Do it,” Izuku begs, his melodic voice shredded into a raw plea. He wraps his legs tighter, locking Katsuki in. “Give it to me, Kacchan. I want it. I need it. I’ve been so empty waiting for you.”

Katsuki’s control shatters. A ragged, animal sound tears from his throat. His thrusts lose all rhythm, becoming a series of deep, grinding jerks. He’s there. He’s right there. The heat is coiling, unbearable, a spring wound too tight in the base of his spine.

“Look at me,” Izuku whispers, his hands cradling Katsuki’s face. “Look at your Mommy when you cum home.”

Katsuki’s crimson eyes snap open, locking onto Izuku’s. He sees it all—the love, the madness, the absolute possession. It’s the last thread. It snaps.

He buries himself to the hilt and cums. It’s not a release. It’s an eruption. Hot, thick pulses flood Izuku’s depths, a claiming so visceral Katsuki sees stars. His body convulses, hips stuttering, as he empties himself completely. A broken, shuddering groan is all he can manage, his weight collapsing onto Izuku’s blood-streaked form.

Izuku cries out beneath him, a sharp, keening sound. His own climax rips through him, his pussy milking Katsuki’s cock in frantic, fluttering pulses. A hot gush soaks both their thighs, not blood this time, but his own release, mixing with Katsuki’s inside him. He trembles violently, his arms wrapping around Katsuki’s back, holding him as he shakes.

For a long moment, there is only the sound of their ragged breathing and the wet, cooling mess between them. The metallic smell of blood is still there, but underneath it now is something muskier, more intimate. The scent of sex. Their sex.

Katsuki’s cock twitches inside Izuku, still half-hard, reluctant to leave the searing heat. He nuzzles into the crook of Izuku’s neck, his lips brushing the sticky skin. “Mommy,” he murmurs, the word a spent sigh.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Izuku whispers, his fingers stroking through Katsuki’s damp hair. His voice is back to that soft, melodic tone, the one that used to sing lullabies. It’s the same voice that just begged to be bred. “I’ve always got you.”