Izuku didn’t knock. He pushed into Father Katsuki’s office and closed the door, his back pressed against the dark wood. His breathing was a ragged, wet sound in the quiet room.
Katsuki looked up from his desk, a ledger open before him. His red eyes gleamed in the lamplight. “You’re early.”
“I’m sick.” The words tumbled out. Izuku’s hand flew to his stomach, then to his mouth. “Nauseous. All the time. And my… my chest.”
“Your chest.” Katsuki closed the ledger slowly. The click of the latch was loud.
“It hurts. They’re… sensitive. I’ve been… leaking.” Izuku’s voice dropped to a whisper, shame flooding his freckled cheeks. “I thought it was stress. A hormonal flare. It’s not.”
Katsuki leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. His gaze was a physical weight. “Get to the point, Izuku.”
Izuku fumbled in his pocket. His hands shook so badly the plastic stick clattered onto the desk between them. Two bold pink lines stared up from the white plastic. “I took a test. Three of them.”
The office was utterly silent. The only sound was the frantic pulse in Izuku’s ears.
Katsuki didn’t move. He didn’t touch the test. He just stared at it, his expression unreadable. The predatory light in his crimson eyes flickered, something deeper moving beneath the surface.
“You’re pregnant.” It wasn’t a question.
Izuku nodded, a tear finally escaping to track down his cheek. “It’s yours. It has to be.” He swallowed, his throat tight. “What do we do?”
Katsuki finally moved. He stood, circling the desk with that deliberate, unsettling grace. He stopped inches from Izuku, his broad frame blocking out the light. His hand came up, not to strike, but to hover near Izuku’s abdomen.
“Mine,” he said, the word a low, resonant rumble. The possessiveness in it was absolute, a dark sacrament. “You’re carrying my child.”
Katsuki’s hand pressed flat against Izuku’s stomach, the heat of his palm searing through the thin cotton of Izuku’s shirt. He leaned in, his breath hot against Izuku’s ear. “My son. Growing inside you.”
“Katsuki—”
“A new sacrament,” he whispered, the words a dark caress. “My seed took root in your cursed, beautiful body. We’ll raise him here. In the rectory. He’ll learn the scriptures at my knee and watch his mother take my communion on the altar.”
Izuku trembled, a full-body shudder. “You can’t be serious. The church—Ochaco—everyone will see!”
“Let them see.” Katsuki’s other hand came up to cup Izuku’s jaw, forcing his gaze up. “Let them watch your belly swell with my child. Let them whisper. It’s the final corruption, Izuku. The most sacred one.”
Katsuki’s hands moved, efficient and sure. He gripped the hem of Izuku’s shirt and pulled it up and over his head in one motion, baring his chest to the lamplight.
Izuku gasped, his arms coming up to cross over himself instinctively, but Katsuki caught his wrists, pinning them gently but implacably to the cool wood of the desk behind him. “Don’t hide from me. Not this.”
His gaze was hungry, reverent. Izuku’s small breasts, fuller now, sensitive and swollen, were tipped with large, puffy brown nipples. A faint, pearly droplet beaded at the tip of one. Katsuki’s breath hitched.
“See?” he murmured, leaning in. His tongue darted out, catching the droplet before it could fall. The taste was faintly sweet, musky, entirely Izuku. “You’re making life. For me.”
He sealed his mouth over the nipple, sucking deep and hard.
A broken cry tore from Izuku’s throat. His back arched off the desk, a bolt of raw sensation—sharp, electric, overwhelming—shooting from his breast to his cunt. His hands, now freed, tangled in Katsuki’s spiky hair, pushing and pulling all at once.
“K-Katsuki—!”
Katsuki switched to the other side, lapping and suckling with a fervor that was both possessive and worshipful. The wet, pulling sounds filled the quiet office. Izuku could feel a thin, warm trickle of milk escape the corner of Katsuki’s mouth, tracing a path down his ribcage.
“So perfect,” Katsuki growled against his skin, his lips glistening. “Your body knows its purpose. To nurture my child. To feed him.”
His hands went to Izuku’s pants, undoing the button and fly with rough urgency. He yanked them down along with Izuku’s underwear, baring him completely on the mahogany surface. The air was cool on his wet cunt, his enlarged clit throbbing.
Katsuki stepped back, just for a moment, his red eyes drinking in the sight. Izuku laid out on his desk, chest heaving, breasts glistening with saliva, completely open. “Mine,” he repeated, the word a prayer.
He unfastened his own trousers, freeing his huge, girthy cock. It was fully hard, leaking heavily. He gripped himself, stroking once as he moved between Izuku’s spread thighs. The broad head nudged against Izuku’s entrance, slick with his own arousal.
“Look at me,” Katsuki commanded, his voice rough.
Izuku’s green eyes, wide with fear and want, found his.
Katsuki pushed inside in one deep, relentless stroke.
Izuku screamed, his nails scraping the desk. The stretch was immense, familiar and devastating all over again, filling him to the brink. Katsuki bottomed out, his hips flush against Izuku’s ass, and held there, buried to the hilt.
“You feel that?” Katsuki gasped, his composure cracking. “That’s where my son is. Deep in your womb. I’m kissing him hello every time I fuck into you.”
He began to move, a slow, deep, rolling rhythm that had Izuku sobbing with each withdrawal and brutal re-entry.
“We’ll build our family right here,” Katsuki whispered, bending over him, his lips against Izuku’s ear. His thrusts were measured, claiming. “You’ll be so fat with my child, everyone will see. You’ll waddle down the aisle, round and beautiful and mine.”
“I can’t—they’ll know—”
“Let them know!” Katsuki’s thrusts became harder, faster. The desk creaked. “You think I care about their rules? Their god? This… this is my miracle. Our sacrament.”
He drove into him, each impact jolting Izuku up the desk. The friction was exquisite, terrible. Izuku could feel his own climax coiling, tight and inevitable.
“Marry me,” Katsuki breathed, the words sudden and raw.
Izuku’s eyes flew open. “W-what?”
“Marry me, Izuku.” Katsuki’s pace didn’t falter, but his voice changed. The demonic growl softened, fraying at the edges. “Be my wife. My precious, little wife. I’ll take care of you. Of our child. I’ll give you everything.”
Something in his crimson eyes flickered, like a film tearing. The predatory gleam wavered.
“Katsuki?” Izuku whispered, his hand coming up to touch the priest’s cheek.
Katsuki flinched, as if the touch burned. He drove into Izuku once, twice more, then stilled, buried deep. He was trembling.
“I love you,” Katsuki said, and the voice was different. It was lower, strained, but human. Terrified. The red in his eyes bled away, revealing a familiar, stormy grey. The demon’s grip was gone. It was just Katsuki, staring down at him with a devastating, vulnerable truth. “I love you. I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”
He collapsed forward, his forehead resting against Izuku’s, their breaths mingling. He was still inside him, pulsing. The office was silent save for their ragged breathing.
Izuku lay beneath him, utterly still, the words echoing in the hollowed-out spaces of his heart. The desk was hard under his back. Katsuki’s weight was a warm, solid anchor. The child, their child, was a secret bloom between them.
Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Katsuki’s neck, pulling him closer. He didn’t have an answer. Not yet. But he held on, as Katsuki, just Katsuki, began to weep silently against his skin.
"I love you too," Izuku whispered into the space between them, the words a fragile breath against Katsuki's damp skin.
Katsuki went utterly still. He lifted his head, his grey eyes wide, bloodshot, searching Izuku’s face for a lie.
"Don't," Katsuki rasped, his voice shredded. "Don't say it because you're scared. Or because I broke you. Don't give me that."
"I'm not." Izuku’s hand slid from Katsuki’s neck to his cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear track. The gesture felt foreign, bold. "I'm terrified. You ruined me. You own me. But it's true."
A shuddering breath escaped Katsuki. He was still buried inside Izuku, softening now, but the connection felt more intimate than any of the violent unions that came before.
"You shouldn't," Katsuki said, closing his eyes as if in pain. "After what I've done… what I made you do…"
"You asked me to marry you."
"I was a monster when I asked."
"And now?" Izuku pressed, his other hand drifting to his own lower belly, a protective cup over the secret. "Who's asking now?"
Katsuki opened his eyes. The grey was clear, tortured. Human. "I am. Just me. The man who failed you. The man who wants you so much it feels like dying."
He pulled out slowly, a wet, soft sound in the quiet. Izuku winced at the sensitivity, the sudden emptiness. Katsuki’s semen, hot and slick, began to leak from him onto the cold mahogany.
Katsuki didn’t move to clean up. He just stood between Izuku’s thighs, looking down at the mess he’d made, at the boy he’d claimed. His cock, wet and spent, hung heavy between his legs. He looked lost.
Katsuki’s shoulders shook. A broken, wet sound tore from his throat as he folded forward, his forehead coming to rest against Izuku’s bare chest. His hands, which had always gripped and commanded, now clutched at Izuku’s sides like a drowning man. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, the words muffled against skin. “I’m so sorry, Izuku.”
The tears were hot and shocking. Izuku lay frozen for a second, then his hands came up, hesitant, to cradle Katsuki’s head. The ash-blond spikes were damp with sweat. He could feel the tremors running through the priest’s entire frame.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Izuku whispered, the lie automatic, a relic of his pastoral training. Comfort the afflicted.
“Don’t.” Katsuki lifted his head, his face ravaged, slick with tears and snot. The dignity of the office, the cassock pooled at his ankles, made the breakdown more devastating. “Don’t absolve me. I raped you. I blackmailed you. I… I put a child in you to brand you. I’m a monster.”
“You were,” Izuku said, his voice quiet but clear. “But you’re here now. Crying on me.” His thumb brushed a tear from Katsuki’s cheekbone. “The demon’s gone.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Katsuki’s voice cracked. “I let it in. I wanted it. I wanted the power, the freedom from… from the silence. From the wanting.” His gaze dropped to Izuku’s stomach, his hand hovering over it, not touching. “And I used it to destroy the only pure thing I ever wanted.”
Izuku took that hovering hand and pressed it flat against his own lower belly. The skin was warm, sensitive. “You didn’t destroy it.”
Katsuki flinched, but left his hand there. “How can you say that? Look at you. Look at this.” His other hand gestured weakly at the desk, at the sticky evidence of their coupling leaking between Izuku’s thighs. “I defiled you in every holy place I could find.”
“You did,” Izuku agreed, and a strange, shaky breath that was almost a laugh escaped him. “And I came for you. Every time. I sang for you. I begged for you. I loved you while you did it.”
Katsuki stared at him, grey eyes wide with a kind of horrified awe. “That’s not love. That’s trauma. That’s broken wiring.”
“You don’t get to tell me what my love is,” Izuku said, and the steel in his voice surprised them both. He pushed himself up on his elbows, wincing at the ache. “You asked me to marry you. A minute ago, when you were still… him. Was that a lie?”
“No,” Katsuki breathed, the word barely audible. “It was the only truth the demon couldn’t twist. It’s all I’ve wanted since I first saw you trying to fix the broken votive rack, your stupid freckles all serious in the sunlight.”
He leaned forward again, but this time his lips brushed Izuku’s, a chaste, desperate press. “Marry me. Let me fix this. Let me protect you. Let me be the man you should have had from the start.”
Izuku kissed him back, slow, tasting salt and regret. When he pulled away, he looked down between their bodies. “We’re a mess.”
Katsuki followed his gaze. “I’ll clean you up.”
He moved away, and the cold office air hit Izuku’s wet skin, raising goosebumps. Katsuki fetched a soft cloth from a small ensuite, ran it under warm water. He returned, his movements deliberate, gentle. He knelt between Izuku’s thighs.
“This might…” Katsuki trailed off, the cloth poised.
“It’s okay.”
Katsuki began to clean him, the warm cloth swiping tenderly over Izuku’s inner thighs, his pussy, wiping away the spend. His touch was clinical, reverent. Izuku watched his face, the fierce concentration, the way his brow furrowed. This was a new sacrament.
“The pregnancy,” Izuku said softly. “It’s real. The test… it was very clear.”
Katsuki’s hand stilled. He looked up, his eyes searching Izuku’s. “Are you… what do you want to do?”
“You said you wanted a son. That you’d have me waddling down the aisle.”
“I was a monster when I said that,” Katsuki repeated, but his hand settled again over Izuku’s belly, a protective curve. “What do *you* want?”
Izuku covered Katsuki’s hand with his own. He thought of binders and packers and secrets. He thought of a small, freckled child with green eyes or grey. A child that would blow every secret to hell the moment Izuku started to show. “I’m scared,” he admitted.
“I know,” Katsuki said. He finished cleaning, then stood, pulling Izuku up with him. He wrapped him in his own discarded cassock, the black wool enveloping Izuku’s smaller frame. He held him, just held him, their foreheads touching. “We’ll be scared together. But I’m not leaving you. Not again. Not ever.”
Outside the office window, the first grey light of dawn began to bleed into the church grounds. The shadows in the room softened. The desk, the scene of their violence and their vulnerability, stood silent witness.
“They’ll come looking for us soon,” Izuku murmured against Katsuki’s chest.
“Let them,” Katsuki said, and for the first time, it didn’t sound like a threat. It sounded like a vow.