The first thing Izuku felt was warmth. A solid, heavy heat along his back, an arm draped possessively over his ribs. The second thing was the smell—expensive cologne, sleep, and them. His own scent mixed with Katsuki’s. The black silk sheets were cool where they weren’t pressed together.
He opened his eyes. Sharp morning light cut through a gap in the curtains, painting a stripe across Katsuki’s chest. The priest was awake, propped on an elbow, just watching him. His eyes were crimson, but the predatory glow was absent. Just the color, and something else Izuku couldn’t name.
“Morning,” Katsuki said. His voice was rough with sleep, quiet.
Izuku’s throat felt tight. He nodded, shifting slightly. The motion made him aware of every ache, the pleasant soreness between his legs. “Morning.”
“Sleep okay?”
“I… yeah. I did.” He hadn’t dreamed. That was the miracle. No nightmares of confessionals or altars. Just dark, dreamless quiet. “You?”
Katsuki’s thumb stroked a slow arc over Izuku’s ribcage. “Watched you sleep. Didn’t want to miss it.”
“That’s creepy.”
“I know.” Katsuki smiled, the corners of his eyes softened. “You were quiet. Peaceful. Looked like you finally believed you were safe.”
Izuku turned onto his back to face him fully. The sheet pooled at his waist. He didn’t pull it up. “Am I?”
Katsuki’s gaze didn’t waver. “Here? With me? Yeah. You are.” He leaned down, his mouth hovering a breath from Izuku’s. “The rest of the world is gonna try to burn us alive. But here, in this bed, you’re safe.”
He kissed him then. Slow. Deep. Not claiming, but re-learning. Izuku’s hands came up, fingers threading into spiky blond hair. The kiss tasted like sleep and forgiveness. It lasted until Izuku’s lungs burned, and he broke away gasping.
Katsuki trailed his mouth down Izuku’s throat, over the freckles on his collarbone. “Tell me what you need.”
“I don’t… I don’t know how to do this,” Izuku whispered. “The… the other stuff. The demands. The games. I knew that. This is… quiet.”
“Then let me show you,” Katsuki murmured against his skin, his mouth finding one of Izuku’s small, soft breasts. He took the puffy brown nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue until it peaked into a stiff, sensitive point.
Izuku gasped, back arching. “K-Katsuki—”
“Shh. Just feel it.” His voice was a low rumble against Izuku’s flesh. He switched to the other side, sucking gently, then harder, his hand coming up to cradle the slight curve. “So fucking pretty. All of you.”
“They’re… I always hated them,” Izuku confessed, the words torn loose by the sensation. “Just… reminders.”
Katsuki lifted his head, his crimson eyes fierce. “They’re part of you. That makes them perfect.” He kissed a path down the trembling plane of Izuku’s stomach, his hands spreading Izuku’s thighs. “Every freckle. Every scar. Every inch.”
His breath hitched as Katsuki’s gaze fell between his legs. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” Katsuki’s voice left no room for argument. He leaned in, and his tongue traced a slow, wet stripe from Izuku’s entrance to his enlarged clit.
Izuku cried out, a shattered, blissful sound. His hands fisted in the black silk. “Oh, god—”
“Just me,” Katsuki growled, and then his mouth was on him fully, licking, sucking, devouring. The wet, hot slide of his tongue was obscene and perfect. Izuku could feel every flick, every press, the scrape of teeth just on the right side of gentle.
“You taste like heaven,” Katsuki muttered, his words vibrating against Izuku’s soaked flesh. “My heaven.”
Tears welled in Izuku’s eyes, but they weren’t from shame. It was the sheer, overwhelming rightness of it. The pleasure built, coiling tight and desperate in his gut. “I’m gonna… Katsuki, I’m close—”
Katsuki pulled back, breathing hard. “Look at me.”
Izuku forced his hazy eyes open. Katsuki’s mouth was glistening, his chin wet. His expression was one of raw, reverent hunger. “You see this? This is worship. You’re a man. My man. And this cunt is mine to adore.” He slid two fingers inside, curling them, and Izuku sobbed. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”
The orgasm ripped through him, wave after wave, his hips bucking off the bed as he clenched around Katsuki’s fingers. Katsuki watched him, drinking in every twitch, every cry, until Izuku collapsed back, spent and trembling.
Katsuki crawled back up his body, gathering him close. Izuku could taste himself on Katsuki’s lips when they kissed, deep and slow. “I only ever wanted to change for them,” Izuku whispered, the revelation raw in the quiet room. “So they’d see me. But you… you already do.”
“I see you,” Katsuki affirmed, his hand stroking through green curls. “Always have. Even when I was too much of a monster to say it right.” He shifted, his thick, heavy cock pressing against Izuku’s thigh. “This enough? This quiet?”
Izuku nodded, wrapping his legs around Katsuki’s waist. “It’s everything. Take me,” Izuku whispered, his voice raw from crying out. He guided Katsuki’s hand, the one still slick from him, down between their bodies. His own fingers wrapped around the thick base of Katsuki’s cock, aligning the weeping head with his own wet, stretched entrance. “Slow. Please.”
Katsuki’s breath shuddered out. He braced himself on his forearms, caging Izuku in, his crimson eyes locked on Izuku’s face. “Look at me. The whole time.”
Izuku nodded, his green eyes wide and unwavering. He felt the blunt pressure, the familiar, breathtaking stretch beginning as Katsuki pushed forward, just an inch. The burn was a sweet, full ache. “More,” he breathed.
“Tell me.”
“I need you. I need all of you.”
Katsuki sank deeper, a low groan tearing from his chest. The slide was obscenely slow, a relentless, hot filling that made Izuku’s toes curl. He could feel every ridge, every pulse of the thick vein underneath his skin. “Christ, you’re tight,” Katsuki gritted out, his muscles trembling with the effort to go slow. “So perfect for me.”
“You feel… you feel like coming home,” Izuku gasped, his nails digging into Katsuki’s biceps. The stretch bordered on painful, a glorious, overwhelming fullness that stole his breath. He was split open, possessed in the gentlest, most devastating way.
Katsuki bottomed out, his hips flush against Izuku’s ass, and stilled. They were joined completely. Sweat beaded on Katsuki’s temple. “Okay?”
Izuku could only nod, overwhelmed. He felt impaled, owned, and safer than he ever had in his life. He wrapped his legs tighter around Katsuki’s waist, locking his ankles. “Don’t move. Not yet. Just… stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Katsuki lowered his head, his forehead pressing against Izuku’s. Their breaths mingled. “You feel that? That’s me. All of me. Right where I belong.”
He began to move then, not a frantic pace, but a deep, rolling rhythm that stroked something fundamental inside Izuku. Each withdrawal was a sweet torment, each thrust a profound relief. The wet sound of their joining was loud in the quiet room.
“You’re so deep,” Izuku moaned, his head tipping back into the pillow. “I can feel you… everywhere.”
“Good.” Katsuki’s mouth found his, the kiss messy and open. “That’s the point. So you never forget who you belong to. Not a demon. Me.”
The pleasure built not in a sharp spike, but in a slow, rising tide. Izuku met each thrust, his body singing with a sensitivity that bordered on agony. Every nerve was alive, singing Katsuki’s name. He chanted it, a broken prayer against Katsuki’s lips. “Katsuki… Kacchan…”
“I’ve got you,” Katsuki growled, his pace increasing fractionally, each drive hitting a spot that made Izuku see white. “Come on. Let go. I’m right here with you.”
The climax didn’t crash over him; it unfolded from the center of that deep, full ache, spreading through his limbs like warm honey. He came with a silent, open-mouthed cry, his cunt clamping down in rhythmic pulses around the thick length buried inside him. The sensation pulled a ragged shout from Katsuki.
“Fuck! Izuku—” His thrusts lost their rhythm, turning short and desperate. He drove in one last, shuddering time and held, his whole body going rigid as he spilled deep inside. Izuku felt the hot flood, the intimate claim, and clung to him as they shook together.
They collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs, Katsuki’s weight a welcome anchor. He didn’t pull out. For a long time, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the distant hum of the city waking up.
Izuku traced the line of Katsuki’s spine. “The world’s still out there.”
“Let it wait.” Katsuki nuzzled into his neck. “They can’t touch this. They can’t touch us here.”
Izuku believed him. In the wreckage of silk sheets and morning light, with Katsuki’s heart beating against his, he finally, fully believed. They were damned, perhaps. But they were damned together. And for the first time, that felt like a kind of grace.
The phone buzzed on the nightstand, a violent, insistent rattle against the wood. Then again. And again.
Katsuki’s arm tightened around Izuku’s waist. “Ignore it.”
“It’s… it’s not stopping,” Izuku whispered, the peace of moments before leaching away with each vibration.
With a curse, Katsuki leaned over, snatching the device. The screen was a blizzard of notifications—emails, texts, missed calls. His expression, soft with spent passion, hardened into something lethal. He thumbed it open, his jaw clenching.
“What is it?” Izuku asked, pushing up on his elbows.
“The Archdiocese. The parish council. Every fucking busybody with a prayer group.” Katsuki’s voice was low, flat. “They know.”
The words hung in the air, colder than the silk sheets. Izuku felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “Everything?”
“Everything. Your… history. The pregnancy. Us. They’re calling for my defrocking. For you to be… removed.” He looked at Izuku, his crimson eyes blazing. “She didn’t waste any time.”
Izuku sank back against the pillows. The expected blow, landing. He’d known it was coming. He’d just hoped for one more hour. “So it’s started.”
“It’s started,” Katsuki confirmed, tossing the phone aside. He turned, cupping Izuku’s face. His thumb swept over a freckled cheekbone. “Look at me. Are you breathing?”
Izuku realized he wasn’t. He sucked in a ragged breath. “They’ll say horrible things. They already are.”
“Let them.” Katsuki’s voice was iron. “They’re just noise. This?” He pressed his palm over Izuku’s lower belly, where the faintest new curve was beginning under his touch. “This is real. We’re real.”
“They’ll call you a predator. They’ll call me a whore.” Izuku’s voice broke. “They’ll say I seduced you, that I’m an abomination—”
“Stop.” Katsuki’s command was sharp, but his touch was gentle. “I was the predator. I was the monster. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making amends for that to you. But what we have now? That’s ours. They don’t get to define it.”
Izuku searched his face. The demonic glint was gone, replaced by a ferocious, human certainty. “What do we do?”
“We face it. Together. No hiding.” Katsuki leaned in, their foreheads touching. “I resign today. Before they can fire me. We release a statement. Our truth, on our terms.”
“They’ll crucify you.”
“Let them try.” A savage, defiant grin touched Katsuki’s lips. “I’ve already been to hell and back. A church scandal is nothing.” His grin faded. “But you… you have a choice. I can put you on a train. Somewhere new, where no one knows—”
“No.” The word left Izuku’s mouth, clear and firm. He placed his hand over Katsuki’s, still resting on his stomach. “You said ‘together.’ That means together. I’m not running. Not from this. Not from you.”
Katsuki stared at him, something vulnerable and awe-struck flashing in his eyes. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” Izuku pushed closer, until their bodies were aligned from chest to thigh, skin to skin. He could feel Katsuki’s heartbeat, a steady, anchoring drum. “They took my silence for years. I’m done giving it to them.”
Katsuki’s answer was a kiss, deep and claiming and desperate. It tasted of resolve. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright. “Then we get dressed. We face the music. And we build a life so fucking solid, their whispers can’t touch it.”
Izuku nodded, his fear burning away into a strange, clear calm. The war was here. But for the first time, he wasn’t facing it alone in a dark closet. He was standing in the light, hand in hand with the man he loved. It was terrifying. It was the most sacred thing he’d ever known.
The statement was a match thrown on gasoline.
Katsuki’s resignation letter, coupled with Izuku’s blunt, unflinching testimony of his identity and their relationship, detonated across the parish, the diocese, the whole damn town. The silence that followed was brief, and then the screaming started.
“They’re animals,” Katsuki snarled, crushing a printed hate-mail letter in his fist. They stood in the stripped-bare rectory living room, boxes piled by the door. “They’re using words I twisted scripture to justify. It’s fucking poetic.”
Izuku scanned another online article, his face pale but set. “They’re saying you groomed me. That I’m a confused girl you took advantage of.”
“Look at me.” Katsuki waited until Izuku’s green eyes met his. “We know the truth. The whole, fucked-up, ugly-beautiful truth. That’s the only scripture that matters now.”
He crossed the room, pried the phone from Izuku’s cold fingers, and tossed it onto a packing box. “We’re done listening. We’re leaving.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere. Somewhere they’ve never heard of saints or sin.” Katsuki framed Izuku’s face, his thumbs rough on freckled skin. “Somewhere we can just be a man and his husband. And their kid.”
Izuku’s breath hitched. “Husband?”
“The second we find a place that’ll marry us.” Katsuki’s gaze was a vow. “You in?”
The answer was a kiss, salty with unshed tears and sweet with resolve.
The city by the sea didn’t know their names. The air smelled of salt and fish, not incense and hypocrisy. Their house was a small, stubborn thing perched on a hill, painted a defiant blue.
The wedding was in a dusty courthouse, witnessed by a bored clerk and a janitor. Izuku wore a simple linen suit. Katsuki wore black, but no collar. They traded rings bought from a pawn shop, thick and plain and solid.
“You may kiss,” the clerk droned.
Katsuki didn’t kiss him. He leaned in, his lips brushing Izuku’s ear. “My husband,” he growled, the words for Izuku alone. Then he claimed his mouth, deep and slow, until the clerk cleared her throat.
Izuku’s labor was a twenty-hour storm. Katsuki never left his side, his hand a crushing anchor, his voice a steady, profane prayer against Izuku’s sweat-slicked temple.
“You’re doing so good, you’re so strong, just fucking breathe, I’ve got you, I’ve got you—”
When the first sharp cry pierced the air, a sound of pure, furious life, they both shattered.
Katsuki cut the cord, his hands—hands that had inflicted pain, that had claimed and corrupted—trembling violently. He placed the squalling, red-faced baby on Izuku’s heaving chest.
“A boy,” the midwife said softly.
Izuku looked from the baby’s face to Katsuki’s. Both were crumpled, weeping, radiant. “Hiroshi,” he whispered, the name they’d chosen. It meant ‘generous.’
Katsuki bent, his forehead resting against Izuku’s, their son between them. His tears fell on the baby’s head. “Thank you,” he choked out, the words raw, devout. “Thank you for him. Thank you for staying.”
Three years later, Katsuki came home from the docks, his hands smelling of salt and engine grease. He found Izuku in the sun-drenched kitchen, humming, chopping vegetables for dinner. Hiroshi was wrapped around his leg, babbling about seagulls.
Izuku looked up, and his smile was the same one from the church, but now it was unshadowed, easy. It reached his eyes. “Hey.”
Katsuki crossed the room in two strides, bypassing their son to pull Izuku into a deep, possessive kiss. He tasted of green tea and home. His hand slid down, palming the gentle, firm swell of Izuku’s belly under his soft sweater.
“How’s the little hellion?” Katsuki murmured against his lips.
“Quiet today. Unlike his brother.” Izuku laughed, nodding at Hiroshi, who was now tugging on Katsuki’s pant leg. “Hungry?”
“Always.” Katsuki’s gaze was heat and promise. He scooped Hiroshi up with one arm, the other still wrapped around Izuku. He breathed them in—soap, sea air, the sweet smell of his son’s hair, the familiar musk of his husband’s skin.
That night, after Hiroshi was asleep in his bed shaped like a boat, Katsuki worshiped the swell of Izuku’s pregnancy in the dark of their bedroom. Not with the desperate hunger of the church, but with a slow, reverent awe.
His mouth traced the stretch marks from the first pregnancy, his tongue dipping into Izuku’s navel. “Beautiful,” he rasped, the word a sacrament. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”
Izuku arched into the touch, his hands in Katsuki’s hair. “It still feels like a miracle. Every time.”
“It is.” Katsuki moved up his body, settling between his thighs. He didn’t enter him yet, just rocked against him, their skin sliding together, the firm curve of Izuku’s belly pressed between them. “Our miracle. Built from the wreckage.”
When he finally pushed inside, it was with a deep, endless sigh. There was no violence left, only a profound, claiming familiarity. Izuku’s cunt welcomed him, slick and hot and knowing, clenching in a rhythm they’d forged together over years.
“Look at me,” Katsuki breathed, his pace slow, deep, each thrust a homecoming.
Izuku opened his eyes. The demonic crimson was gone, replaced by a warm, fierce amber. In them, he saw the altar, the confessional, the storm of scandal, the courthouse, the birth, this bed. He saw their story, sacred and corrupt, and he saw it was now just… theirs.
He came silently, a wave of pleasure that made his toes curl and his belly tighten. Katsuki followed, his release a warm flood, a silent prayer murmured into the skin of Izuku’s neck.
After, curled together, Katsuki’s hand splayed over the life growing within Izuku, he spoke into the dark. “They can have their heaven. They can have their blessed silence.”
Izuku understood. He laced their fingers together over his stomach. “We have this.”
Outside, the Pacific wind rattled the blue shutters. Inside, in their defiant, perfect house, there was only the sound of their breathing, and the profound, echoing peace of a grace they had damned themselves to earn.