The black SUV pulled under the portico of the Aulani resort, the sudden shade a cool slap after the highway glare. Izuku shifted Natsuki’s sleeping weight, his palm damp where it cradled the baby’s head. Katsuki’s thumb was still there, a brand on his bare thigh, a silent pulse beneath the conversation. Izuku watched the uniformed staff approach, their smiles bright and professional, and felt a jolt of pure, reckless dissonance. Here he was, the nanny, holding the baby, with his employer’s hand claiming his skin under the pretense of a shared seat. The fiction was so thin he could taste it, metallic and sweet, like blood from a bitten lip.
“Finally,” Ochako sighed, gathering her purse. She didn’t look back at them as the driver opened her door. “I need a shower that isn’t moving. Katsuki, you’ll get us checked in right?”
“Yeah.” Katsuki’s voice was a low rumble, his thumb making one last, deliberate sweep before lifting away. The loss of contact felt like a vacuum. He exited, his broad back blocking the sun as he spoke to a bellman. Izuku stayed put, breathing in the baby-powder scent of Natsuki’s hair, trying to steady the frantic beat in his chest.
“Need a hand?” Katsuki was suddenly at his open door, leaning in. His crimson eyes held Izuku’s, and in them was the entire promise from the airport—the one about fucking him so hard he’d forget his own name. Izuku’s mouth went dry.
“I’ve got him,” Izuku said, voice softer than he intended. He maneuvered out, the tropical heat wrapping around him like a second skin. He could smell the plumeria now, thick and cloying, mixed with the chlorine from the nearby pools. It was paradise, and he was standing in the middle of it, a secret about to boil over.
Their villa was all dark wood and soaring ceilings, ocean visible through wall-to-wall glass. Ochako immediately claimed the primary suite, her voice floating back about unpacking her spa wear. Katsuki dropped his bag in the center of the great room, his gaze tracking Izuku as he settled with Natsuki.
“The second bedroom’s through there,” Katsuki said, nodding to a hallway. “You and the baby.”
Izuku’s fingers fumbled with Natsuki. *You and the baby.* Not *the nanny’s room*. The phrasing was possessive, a rearrangement of the universe that placed Izuku firmly within Katsuki’s orbit, separate from his wife. “It’s huge,” Izuku murmured, looking at the vast space, the king-sized bed. Big enough for two, if someone were to visit.
“She’s booked for the Laniwai at nine tomorrow,” Katsuki said, moving closer. He kept his voice low, huh conversational for anyone listening, but his proximity was a physical truth. “The whole day. Says she needs the ‘rainforest ritual’ or some shit.”
Izuku’s throat tightened. The whole day. His skin prickled, imagining it: the door locking, Katsuki’s hands on him in this room that smelled of new linen and salt air. “I’ll have Natsuki,” he said, testing the shape of the alibi.
“That’s never stopped us before,” Katsuki’s voice was a low, certain rumble in the space between them. His hand moved, a swift, practiced invasion under the hem of Izuku’s skirt, and two broad fingers pushed into his cunt without preamble.
Izuku jerked, a full-body tremble, his grip tightening on the sleeping Natsuki. He was already wet, embarrassingly, achingly wet, and Katsuki’s fingers slid in to the knuckle with a soft, obscene sound. “K-Katsuki—” he choked out, the name a shattered whisper.
Katsuki didn’t look at him. His crimson eyes were fixed on the hallway leading to the primary suite, his expression a mask of casual concentration. His fingers curled, a brutal, perfect pressure against the spot that made Izuku’s vision whiten. “Quiet, baby boy,” he murmured, his thumb finding Izuku’s clit and circling, relentless. “You know the rules.”
Izuku bit down on a moan, the sound dying against his teeth. He was holding the baby. He couldn’t cover his mouth. He could only stand there, legs shaking, as Katsuki fucked him open with his hand, the rhythm fast and dirty. Every slick thrust sent a jolt through him, his own wetness coating Katsuki’s wrist. His thoughts dissolved into static—*the door is open, she could walk out, he’s going to make me come right here while I’m holding his son.*
“You’re dripping,” Katsuki observed, his voice barely a breath. He added a third finger, the stretch a bright, burning ache. “Thinking about tomorrow? About me bending you over that rail out there and fucking you where the whole ocean can see?”
“Yes,” Izuku gasped, the word ripped from him. He was trembling violently now, his knees buckling. He locked them, clutching Natsuki like an anchor. The baby stirred, a soft sigh, and Izuku froze, sheer terror cutting through the pleasure. Katsuki didn’t stop. His fingers plunged deeper, curling, and Izuku felt the climax gathering, a coil pulled taut in his gut.
Katsuki’s fingers drove deeper, a brutal, twisting thrust that punched the air from Izuku’s lungs. His thumb ground against Izuku’s clit, a merciless, circular pressure, and the coil in Izuku’s gut snapped. Pleasure detonated, white-hot and silent, a seismic wave that tore through him with vicious force. His cunt clenched, a violent, rhythmic pulsing around Katsuki’s fingers, and a hot gush of fluid splashed down his thighs, pattering onto the wood floor between his feet. He didn’t make a sound. He couldn’t. He just stood there, shaking, clutching Natsuki, his vision starred and blurry as his body betrayed him in absolute, soaking silence.
“Good boy,” Katsuki breathed, his voice thick with approval. He slowly withdrew his fingers, the slick sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. He brought his glistening hand to his mouth, crimson eyes locked on Izuku’s stunned face, and licked his fingers clean, one by one, with deliberate slowness. He savored it, his tongue capturing every trace. “Taste like paradise.”
Izuku could only stare, his legs watery, the aftershocks still rippling through him. The evidence was pooling on the floor. The baby was stirring again, a soft, sleepy fuss. Katsuki glanced at the hallway, then back at Izuku, a predatory smirk cutting across his face. He leaned in, his lips brushing Izuku’s ear. “Clean yourself up. Don’t let her see you like this.”
Then he was walking away, his steps unhurried. He paused at the open doorway, looked back once, and pulled the bedroom door shut with a soft, definitive click.
Izuku’s knees finally gave out. He sank to the floor, cradling Natsuki against his chest, his breath coming in ragged, silent hitches. The cool wood was a shock against his bare thighs. *I just came. I squirted on the floor. While holding his son. His wife is twenty feet away.* The reality of it landed, heavy and bright, a stone dropped into the pit of his stomach. It should have felt like shame. It didn’t. It felt like triumph, electric and terrifying. He’d taken what he wanted and hadn’t been caught. The risk had made the climax sharper, the surrender more complete.
Natsuki whimpered, his little face scrunching. “Shhh, sweetheart,” Izuku whispered, his voice hoarse. He rocked him gently, pressing a kiss to the downy blonde hair. “Mama’s here. It’s okay.” The endearment slipped out, natural as breathing. He was the one who soothed the night fears, who knew the hungry cry from the tired one. In this moment, he was more mother than the woman in the other room would ever be.
He laid Natsuki gently in the portable crib, his hands trembling. The baby settled almost immediately, sighing back into sleep. Izuku stared at the small, trusting form, then down at the mess on his legs and the floor. He grabbed a baby wipe from the nearby changing caddy, the crinkling packet deafening in the silence. He cleaned himself first, the cool cloth a stark contrast to his overheated skin. Each pass between his thighs came away soaked. He used three wipes before he felt remotely clean, his pussy still throbbing, sensitive and swollen.
The door handle turned.
The door swung inward and Katsuki filled the frame, a silhouette against the dim hall light. He stepped inside, closed the door, and the soft, final click of the lock engaging was louder than any shout. He was in dark lounge pants and a thin grey t-shirt that strained across his chest. His crimson eyes swept the room—the balled wipe in the corner, Izuku on the floor, the portable crib—and landed between Izuku’s bare thighs. A slow, predatory smirk cut across his face.
“Look at that,” Katsuki’s voice was a low growl of pure satisfaction. “All swollen and shiny. Still throbbing for me, baby boy?”
Izuku’s mouth opened but no sound came out. His mind was a frantic scramble: *He locked it. He locked us in.*
“She just got in the shower,” Katsuki said, moving toward him. “We got thirty minutes. Don’t waste ‘em thinking.” He grabbed Izuku’s arm, hauling him up off the floor with effortless strength. “Turn around. Hands on the crib.”
The command brooked no argument. Izuku stumbled, his bare feet slipping on the polished wood. He turned, his palms landing flat on the padded rail of the portable crib. Natsuki slept inside, a peaceful mound under a light blanket. Izuku’s heart hammered against his ribs. *Don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up.*
He heard the rustle of fabric. Then Katsuki’s hands were on his hips, rough and possessive. The broad head of his cock pressed against Izuku’s entrance, already slick from his earlier climax. There was no prep, no gentle push. Katsuki drove forward in one brutal, shearing thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
Izuku gasped, a sharp, choked sound. The stretch was immense, a burning fullness that stole his breath. Katsuki was already moving, pulling back and slamming home again, setting a punishing rhythm that rocked the crib on its wheels. The metal frame creaked. Izuku clenched his teeth, a whimper trapped behind them.
“Scream for, Daddy,” Katsuki grunted, his breath hot against Izuku’s neck. One hand stayed anchored on his hip, the other came down hard on Izuku’s ass cheek. The slap cracked through the room, a bright sting that made Izuku jolt forward. “I said scream for it. Tell Daddy how much you love his cock.”
“I can’t,” Izuku hissed, his knuckles white on the crib rail. Every deep, dragging thrust pushed a moan up his throat. Natsuki stirred, a soft, sleepy sigh. Panic licked up Izuku’s spine. “He’ll wake up—”
Another spank, harder this time, on the opposite cheek. “He’s out. Scream.” Katsuki fucked into him harder, each impact jolting Izuku’s body, making the crib shudder. “You want me to stop? You want me to pull out and walk away?”
“No!” The word tore out of him, desperate. “Don’t stop.”
“Then tell me.” Katsuki’s voice was gravel, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, a relentless piston. “Say it.”
Izuku’s resolve shattered. “I love it,” he gasped, the confession ripped raw. “I love your cock, Daddy. Please. Please.”
“Louder.”
“I love your cock!” Izuku cried out, his voice breaking. He didn’t care anymore. The pleasure was a wildfire, fed by the risk, by the degrading, perfect words. His own wetness coated his thighs, the slick, filthy sound of Katsuki pounding into him filling the room. He was going to come again, a tight, coiling pressure building low in his gut. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me harder—”
Katsuki gave him what he asked for. His pace turned brutal, a merciless hammering that stole the air from Izuku’s lungs. The crib rattled violently against the wall. Izuku’s vision blurred, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He was split open, claimed, owned in the most fundamental way, with his—with Katsuki’s son sleeping inches from the violence of it.
“Gonna fill you up,” Katsuki growled, his own breathing ragged now. “Gonna breed this teen pussy right here. You want that? You want Daddy’s cum deep in that greedy little cunt?”
“Yes,” Izuku sobbed, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust. “Breed me, Daddy, please, I need it—”
Katsuki’s rhythm faltered, his thrusts turning jagged and desperate. He drove in one last, devastating time, burying himself deep, and Izuku felt the hot, sudden pulse of his release flooding inside him. The sensation triggered his own climax, a silent, convulsive wave that clenched around Katsuki’s cock, milking him dry. Izuku’s thighs shook, another gush of his own fluid dripping down to join the mess on the floor.
Izuku’s knees gave out completely. He slid down the side of the crib rail with a whimper that was pure, unadulterated need, collapsing onto the floor in the puddle of his own release. The cool wood was a shock against his overheated back. He didn’t care. He spread his legs wide, a lewd, open invitation, his swollen cunt on blatant display. With one trembling hand, he hooked two fingers into his own slick folds, spreading himself open for Katsuki’s view. With his other hand, he found his throbbing, fat clit, flicking it hard and fast. “Daddy,” he gasped, his voice wrecked. “Please. Fuck me again. I need more. Need more of your cummies deep in my cunny. Please, Daddy, fill me up again.”
Katsuki stared down at him, his crimson eyes burning. He was still half-hard, slick and glistening, his cock already thickening again at the obscene sight. “Fuck,” he breathed, the word full of awe and greed. He hadn’t even pulled out of his pants fully. He shoved them down his thighs, freeing himself, his heavy balls swinging. “You’re a fucking whore. An insatiable little whore.”
“Your whore,” Izuku pleaded, arching his back, pushing his hips up. He kept rubbing his clit, the sharp, bright sensations making his toes curl. He was so sensitive it was almost pain, but he needed it, needed the edge. “Breed your whore, Daddy. C’mon.”
Katsuki dropped to his knees between Izuku’s splayed thighs. He didn’t enter him. Not yet. He wrapped a broad, calloused hand around Izuku’s throat, squeezing, threatening. His thumb stroked the frantic pulse there.
Then he brought his cock down, slapping the thick, hot length of it against Izuku’s soaked pussy. The wet smack echoed in the room. “You want it that bad?” he growled. “Even after I just emptied my balls in you?”
“Yes,” Izuku sobbed, his hips lifting off the floor, chasing contact. “I can still feel you leaking out of me and I want it back. I want you to top it off. Please.” His own words shocked him, their raw filth. He didn’t recognize this person, this desperate, hungry thing he’d become. He loved him.
Katsuki’s smirk was dark, triumphant. He leaned down, his lips a breath from Izuku’s. “Then beg prettier.”
Izuku’s mind went blank, white static of need. “Please, Daddy, fuck your baby boy’s teen pussy full of your cum. I need it so bad it hurts. I wanna feel you shoot so deep it never comes out. Wanna be your good boy, your bred boy, please, please, I’ll be so good—”
Katsuki shut him up with a brutal, searing kiss. He drove his tongue into Izuku’s mouth, tasting him, claiming the words. At the same time, he notched his cockhead back at Izuku’s dripping entrance and pushed. There was resistance, a tight, swollen ache—Izuku was oversensitive, freshly fucked and stretched—but Katsuki pressed in anyway, a slow, inexorable invasion that burned so good Izuku saw stars behind his clenched eyelids.
Katsuki broke the kiss, panting. “Fuck. You’re still so tight. Greedy little hole sucking me right back in.”
Katsuki's hips snap forward, burying himself completely, and the burn is so perfect Izuku's vision whites out. Those pretty green eyes roll back, lids fluttering, and Katsuki sees it—sees the exact moment Izuku leaves his body—and it makes something primal in his chest snarl. His control splinters. His rhythm turns brutal, a hardcore, piston-drive fucking that jolts Izuku's body up the floor with every thrust.
"Look at you," Katsuki grunts, his voice shredded. His heavy balls slap wetly against Izuku's ass, a lewd, rhythmic percussion under the slick sound of penetration. "Just a hole. My fucking hole."
Izuku can't form words. His mouth is open, drool trailing from the corner, sounds that aren't language—guttural, punched-out uh-uh-uhs—escaping with each devastating drive. His thoughts are liquid, spilling out of him. *Break me break me break me—*
Katsuki leans over him, one hand braced by Izuku's head, the other moving down his sweat-slick belly. He finds Izuku's swollen, throbbing clit and flicks it, hard and fast, with his thumb.
The effect is instantaneous. Izuku's back arches off the floor, a silent scream tearing through him. His cunt convulses, and then it just—opens. A hot gush of fluid spills out around Katsuki's cock, soaking his balls, the floor, Izuku's own thighs. It doesn't stop. With each ruthless thrust, another fountain spills out of him, a continuous, uncontrollable stream. It's not an orgasm—it's his body breaking.
"Fuck," Katsuki breathes, awe in the curse. He doesn't let up, fucking through the deluge, his thumb a merciless circle on Izuku's clit. "Look at that. You broke. I broke your cunt, baby boy. It's just a fucking geyser."
Izuku sobs, tears mingling with the sweat on his temples. The sensation is too much—the fullness, the brutal friction, the electric torture on his clit, the hot flood he can't control. He's oversensitive to the point of pain, but the pain is the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. He's squirting so hard it's leaking up onto his own stomach, pooling in the dip of his navel.
"Daddy—" he chokes out, a broken plea for mercy or for more, he doesn't even know.
Katsuki doesn't stop. His hips are a machine, pistoning into the slick, convulsing heat. His thumb is a brand on Izuku's clit, pressing, circling, demanding more of the flood. "It won't stop, will it?" he growls, the awe thick in his shredded voice. "This cunt's broken open for good. Made to be a fountain for my cock."
Izuku can only sob, his body a vessel for a pleasure so intense it's indistinguishable from agony. Every thrust punches another hot gush out of him, soaking the wood floor, Katsuki's thighs, his own stomach. The air smells of salt and sex, drowned under the musk of their fucking.
"Look at it," Katsuki commands, his rhythm never faltering. He shifts his weight, driving deeper, angling his cock to grind against a spot that makes Izuku's vision spark white. "Watch yourself ruin the floor, baby boy."
Izuku's head lolls to the side. His tear-blurred eyes see the shiny, spreading puddle, sees the way his own fluid arcs out with each inward slam of Katsuki's hips. It's obscene. It's beautiful. He's never felt so empty and so full at the same time. His mind is just a loop: *yours yours yours—*
"Gonna make it last," Katsuki pants, his own control a visible strain in the corded muscles of his neck. He's holding back, deliberately slowing the brutal pace to a deep, rolling grind that makes Izuku feel every inch. "Gonna watch this perfect pussy drown us both before I fill it."
"Can't—" Izuku gasps, his body seizing. "Too much, Daddy, it's too—"
"You can." Katsuki leans over him, his lips against Izuku's ear. "You're my good boy. My greedy, broken boy. Now cum for me again. Let me see it."
He presses his thumb down hard, a direct, unyielding pressure right on Izuku's swollen clit.
Izuku screams. It's a raw, tearing sound that scrapes his throat. His cunt clamps down in a vicious, rhythmic spasm around Katsuki's cock, milking him, and the floodgates burst. It's not a gush—it's a continuous, hot spray, a geyser that soaks Katsuki's lower belly, the floor beneath them, everything. His body bows off the ground, held only by Katsuki's hand on his throat and the cock impaling him.
The violent clamping is the final trigger. Katsuki's control shatters. "Fuck!" he roars, his hips stuttering. He drives in one last, brutal time, burying himself to the hilt, and Izuku feels the hot, pulsing rush of his release flooding deep, mixing with the endless stream of his own.
Katsuki collapses over him, his full weight pinning Izuku to the wet floor, his face buried in the crook of Izuku's neck. He’s panting, great heaving breaths that shake them both.
He pulls out with a wet, sucking pop.
The moment his cock leaves that oversensitive, stretched entrance, Izuku's body gives one final, violent shudder. A last, hard jet of fluid shoots out, arcing through the air to splash against the bathtub with a soft *plink*.
Then, silence. Just their ragged breathing and the distant sigh of the ocean.
Izuku is gone. His eyes are rolled back, only a sliver of green visible under fluttering lids. His tongue lolls from his parted mouth, a thin string of drool connecting it to his chin. He twitches, little aftershocks jolting through his thighs and abdomen. Covered in sweat, tears, his own squirt, and the thick, sticky proof of Katsuki's climax leaking from his used hole, he looks completely ruined.
Katsuki stares down at him, his own chest heaving. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, his gaze tracing the magnificent wreckage of the boy beneath him. A strange, tight feeling lodges in his throat. Not just possession. Something sharper.
"Fuck," he whispers, the word tender this time. He touches Izuku's cheek. The skin is fever-hot. "Okay. Okay, baby boy."
He grabs his phone from the discarded pile of clothes. His thumbs move quickly, the screen bright in the dim bathroom. The text to Ochako is blunt: *Went out for air. Izuku and Natsuki are down for the night. Don't wait up.*
He sends it without a second thought, then tosses the phone aside.
Katsuki gets to his feet, his own legs unsteady. He looks from Izuku's limp form to the sleeping baby in the crib, undisturbed through it all. A perfect, innocent sleeper. His son.
He bends, sliding his arms under Izuku's back and knees. Lifts him. Izuku's head lolls against his shoulder, a soft, broken sigh ghosting past his lips.
Katsuki carries him to the bathtub, sets him gently on the closed toilet lid. He turns on the taps, adjusts the temperature until steam begins to rise. He pours in a capful of the resort's plumeria-scented bath oil. The sweet, floral scent begins to fight the musk in the air.
Then he kneels. With a tenderness that would shock anyone who knew him, he washes Izuku first. A warm, wet cloth moving over every freckled inch, wiping away the evidence of their violence. He cleans the sweat from his temples, the drool from his chin, the sticky mess from between his thighs. Izuku murmurs, his body pliant, his trust absolute even in unconsciousness.
Only when Izuku is clean does Katsuki attend to himself, a quicker, more efficient scrub. Then he lifts Izuku again and lowers them both into the steaming, fragrant water.
He settles against the back of the tub, Izuku cradled against his chest. The water laps at their chins. Izuku's head rests just under Katsuki's jaw, his damp green curls tickling his skin. His breathing has evened out into deep, exhausted sleep.
Katsuki stares at the opposite wall, one hand splayed possessively over Izuku's stomach under the water. He listens to the quiet sloshing of the tub, the even breaths of the boy in his arms, and the soft, rhythmic sound of his perfect son sleeping in the next room.
He hates to admit this feels perfect.