The box from the luxury lingerie boutique sat on Izuku’s bed like a promise. Four months pregnant. Two months of hiding the secret beneath loose shirts and careful posture, of pressing a hand to the gentle, firm swell low on his belly when no one was looking. Ochako was finally gone for a week—a girls trip with her friends, Katsuki had said, his tone dismissive—and the house felt different. It felt like theirs. Izuku’s fingers trembled only slightly as he lifted the lid. The fabric inside a black color with orange trim, sheer and delicate. “A gift for you,” the saleswoman had purred, and Izuku had just smiled, thinking, *No. A gift for him.*
He dressed with ritual slowness. The stockings first, the whisper of silk against his skin making his breath catch. The garter belt, clasped carefully over hips that were fuller now. The baby doll nighty, sheer lace stretching over his small, sensitive breasts, his puffy nipples already pebbled tight against the fabric. Crotchless lace panties that framed his glistening lips. The final piece was the pregnancy test, wrapped in orange tissue paper and tied with a slender black ribbon. He placed it on Katsuki’s nightstand, right where the lamp would hit it first. A landmark. A bomb.
He heard the key in the front door downstairs, the heavy tread of Katsuki’s steps in the foyer. The routine sounds: briefcase dropped, coat hung, a low murmur to the evening housekeeper. Izuku climbed onto his bed, arranging himself against the headboard. He’d done his makeup, subtle but sharp, highlighting his freckles, making his green eyes look huge. One hand settled on the undeniable curve of his stomach. The other rested on his bare thigh. He waited. The ache in his chest wasn’t fear. It was triumph, so bright and sharp it bordered on pain.
The door opened without a knock. Katsuki stood there, still in his work clothes, the tailored jacket unbuttoned, his tie loose. In one hand, he held the orange-wrapped package, the slender black ribbon undone. The white plastic stick was visible in his palm. His other hand hung at his side, fingers flexing once, twice. His crimson eyes swept the room, over the boutique box on the desk, and then locked onto Izuku. He didn’t speak. The silence in the room became a solid thing, charged and waiting.
Izuku’s heart was a frantic drum against his ribs. He kept his hand on his stomach, the other on his thigh, the pose he’d practiced. *Look at me*, he thought, the triumph in his chest so bright it hurt. *Look at all of me.* Katsuki’s gaze traveled down the sheer black lace of the baby doll, over the swell of Izuku’s breasts, the puffy nipples tight against the fabric, down to where the lace hem brushed the top of his curved belly. It lingered there. On the undeniable proof.
“Four months,” Izuku said, his voice softer than he intended. It wasn’t a whisper; it was a confession hurled into the quiet. “I’m four months.”
Katsuki took three steps into the room and closed the door behind him. The click of the latch was deafening. He looked from the test in his hand to Izuku’s face, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he brought the plastic stick up, examining the two clear pink lines as if verifying the authenticity of a contract. His thumb brushed over the display window. “You waited,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
“I wanted it to be right. I wanted her gone.” Izuku’s fingers pressed into his own stomach, feeling the firmness beneath his skin. “I wanted to give it to you. Like this.”
Katsuki’s eyes burned into him. He tossed the pregnancy test onto the bed beside Izuku. It landed on the black silk duvet, a stark white accusation. Or a promise. “Get up,” he said, the command rough.
A shiver raced down Izuku’s spine. He pushed himself up from the headboard, the garter belt pulling against his stockings. He stood on the plush carpet, the high heels making him a few inches taller, unsteady. Katsuki’s gaze was a physical weight, tracking every movement. He circled Izuku, a predator assessing. Izuku turned his head, following him, the sheer nightie swirling around his thighs.
“You bought this,” Katsuki stated, his voice behind Izuku now. A statement, not a question. His breath was warm on the nape of Izuku’s neck.
“Yes.”
A large, warm hand settled on Izuku’s hip, fingers splaying wide, his thumb digging into the dip of Izuku’s waist. The other hand came around his front, palm flattening low on his belly, right over the curve. Katsuki’s touch was hot through the lace. He pulled Izuku back against him, solid and unyielding. Izuku could feel the hard line of Katsuki’s cock, already thick and demanding, pressed against the cleft of his ass through the suit pants.
“Say it,” Katsuki growled into his ear, his lips brushing the shell. The hand on Izuku’s stomach pressed possessively. “What did you do, baby boy?”
Izuku’s breath hitched. He leaned back into the heat of him, his head tipping onto Katsuki’s shoulder. “I let you breed me,” he whispered, the words filthy and true. “I’m carrying your baby, Daddy.”
Katsuki’s arm tightened around him, a band of iron. His other hand slid down from Izuku’s belly, over the lace of the crotchless panties, his fingertips brushing the damp, hairless lips beneath. Izuku gasped, his hips jerking forward into the touch. He was already slick, wet for this, for him. Katsuki’s finger slid through his folds, gathering the wetness, and Izuku moaned, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.
“Mine,” Katsuki breathed against his skin, his voice thick with something raw and terrifying. His finger pushed inside, just the tip, and Izuku clenched around it, his body singing. “This cunt. This womb. All of it. Mine.”
Katsuki’s finger slid out of him with a wet sound, and before Izuku could whine at the loss, Katsuki was shoving him forward, just enough to rip at his own clothes. Buttons flew from his shirt, pinging against the lamp, the nightstand. The tie was a dark streak on the carpet. He shoved his pants and briefs down in one violent motion, kicking them away, not giving a single shit about the ruined suit. He was naked, his cock thick and heavy, curving down under it's own weight, the tip already leaking.
He spun Izuku around, hands rough on his hips, and crashed their mouths together. The kiss was hard, needy, all teeth and possession, Katsuki’s tongue claiming his mouth the way his cock was about to claim the rest of him. Izuku moaned into it, his hands coming up to clutch at Katsuki’s bare shoulders, the muscles there rigid with tension.
Katsuki broke the kiss, his breathing ragged. “Look at you,” he growled, his crimson eyes blazing. He grabbed his own cock, stroking it once, a thick bead of precum smearing over his fist. He positioned himself between Izuku’s thighs, the hot, heavy length of him sliding through Izuku’s soaked folds, the broad head catching on his swollen clit.
Izuku cried out, his head falling back. The sensation was electric, the friction against his sensitive clit making his knees buckle. Katsuki held him up, his arms like steel bands, and began to thrust, fucking his cock hard and desperate through the slippery channel of Izuku’s pussy lips. The wet, slick sound filled the room. Each drive rubbed his length directly over Izuku’s throbbing clit.
“Daddy’s gonna fuck this pregnant pussy,” Katsuki snarled, his voice raw with hunger. He drove harder, his balls slapping against Izuku’s thighs. “Every fucking day. Gonna keep this cunt full of me while my kid grows inside you.”
“Yes,” Izuku gasped, the word torn from him. His mind was white static, his body a live wire. *He’s so hard for this, for me, for us*—the thought was a delirious chant in his head.
“Gonna cum all over this belly,” Katsuki promised, his hips a relentless piston. One hand splayed over Izuku’s stomach, possessive and hot. “Watch it get bigger, watch my cum paint it. Mark what’s mine.”
“Daddy—”
“And when your tits start leaking,” he continued, his voice dropping to a vicious, turned-on whisper. “I’m gonna suck them dry. Drink every drop. You’re gonna feed me while I’m buried in you.”
The image was so obscene, so intimate, it stole Izuku’s breath. He could see it—Katsuki between his legs, mouth on his nipple, fucking him slow and deep. A sob caught in his throat. He was so close, the pressure building terrifyingly fast, his clit screaming with each pass of Katsuki’s cock.
“Five months,” Katsuki breathed against his mouth, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, focused right on Izuku’s clit. “Five months of you being round with my baby. My boy. My slut. And I’m gonna fuck you in every room of this house until you forget what it feels like to not have me inside you.”
Izuku came with a shattered cry, his body seizing. His cunt clenched around nothing, fluttering desperately, and he squirted, a hot rush of liquid soaking both their thighs, the lace of his panties, Katsuki’s driving cock. The orgasm ripped through him, blinding and endless, rooted deep in the swell of his belly.
Katsuki groaned, a rough, approving sound. He didn’t stop moving, grinding his cock through the mess, through Izuku’s shuddering sensitivity. “That’s it,” he murmured, his lips on Izuku’s temple. “Give it all to me. Everything.”
Katsuki’s hand slid from Izuku’s belly to his own cock, his fingers wrapping around the base, slick with Izuku’s mess. He pulled back, putting a few inches of air between them, his breath a ragged gust against Izuku’s damp skin. He began to stroke himself, rough and fast, his fist a blur. “Look,” he grunted, his crimson eyes locked on Izuku’s stomach. “Watch where I’m gonna mark you.”
The first hot stripe landed just below Izuku’s navel, thick and pearlescent against his freckled skin. Izuku gasped, his hand flying to his mouth. The second rope splashed higher, across his sternum. The third hit his chin, dripping down onto his collarbone. Katsuki groaned, a deep, punched-out sound, his hips jerking erratically as he came and came, ropes of cum painting Izuku’s chest, his swollen belly, the sheer black lace. It was more than Izuku had ever seen, a shocking, possessive flood.
“Holy fuck,” Katsuki breathed, his chest heaving. He stared at his own cock, which remained fully hard, an angry purple, veins prominent, the tip still weeping. It twitched in his hand, utterly unsatisfied. “The hell…”
Izuku’s brain short-circuited. *He’s never… not even…* The thought was hazy, drunk on the sight of Katsuki’s stunned face and the impossible, throbbing evidence in his fist. The heat of the cum on his skin was a brand. The smell, musky and sharp, filled the air. He didn’t move to wipe it away. He let it sit, let it drip in slow, warm trails down the curve of his belly toward his aching cunt.
“Daddy,” Izuku whispered, the word a plea and a challenge. He shuffled backward on the bed until his shoulders hit the headboard, then hooked his hands behind his knees. He pulled his legs up, and up, spreading himself obscenely wide, putting his feet on the headboard behind his own ears. The position lifted his hips, exposed everything—his soaked, puffy lips, his flushed hole, the cum already beginning to slick a path down his crease. He used two fingers to spread his cunt wider, showing the glistening pink inside. “It’s not enough. I need it. Please.”
Katsuki’s eyes darkened, the shock burning away into something hotter, more ravenous. He crawled onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress on either side of Izuku’s hips. He leaned down, bracing one hand by Izuku’s head, his other hand guiding his cock. The broad, wet head nudged against Izuku’s entrance, smearing through the mix of their fluids. “We’re fucking insatiable,” he growled, but there was awe in it.
“Yes, Daddy.” Izuku breathed, arching his back, offering himself up. The cum on his belly pulled taut against his skin. “You bred me. Now fuck me like you mean it. Until I can’t remember my own name.”
“Your name is mine,” Katsuki said, and pushed inside.
The stretch was exquisite, familiar and new all at once. Izuku cried out, his fingers digging into his own thighs. Katsuki filled him completely, a hard, relentless presence that seemed to reach deeper than ever before, as if making room for itself beside the new life growing there. Katsuki bottomed out, his hips flush against Izuku’s ass, and let out a shuddering groan. “Fuck. Your cunt’s even hotter. Tighter.”
“It’s hungry for you,” Izuku sobbed, the sensation overwhelming. “Always hungry for your cock.”
Katsuki began to move, a slow, grinding roll of his hips that made Izuku see stars. He set a brutal, perfect rhythm, each withdrawal a teasing agony, each thrust a claiming. The wet, slapping sounds were loud in the quiet room, underscored by Izuku’s hitched breaths and Katsuki’s low, possessive grunts. “Gonna fuck you just like this every night,” Katsuki promised, his voice raw. “My cum on your skin. My kid in your belly. My cock in your cunt. You’re never gonna be empty again.”
The slow grind shattered into a brutal, driving pace. Katsuki’s hips snapped forward, a jackhammer rhythm that slammed Izuku’s body up the bed with every thrust. The headboard cracked against the wall in a frantic, wooden bangs. Control was gone. Eradicated. His hands were claws on Izuku’s hips, holding him down to take it, his breath coming in ragged, animal grunts.
“Can’t—fuck—stop,” Katsuki snarled, his voice ripped raw. His cock plunged deep, the thick head battering Izuku’s cervix with a pressure that was pain and pleasure fused into one blinding point. “Broken me. You broke me, you pregnant little slut.”
*Yes*, Izuku’s mind sang, a wild, triumphant chorus. His own cries were punched out of him, sharp and airless. He could feel the brutal stretch, the delicious burn, the way his body yielded and clung to the invading thickness. The mix of cum and slick was a hot flood between his thighs, the sound obscenely wet with every punishing drive. *Look what I did to you. Look what we made.*
“Gonna put another one in you,” Katsuki rambled, his words a feverish chant against Izuku’s throat. His thrusts lost any semblance of rhythm, becoming a frantic, piston-driven need. “Right next to the first. Fill you with twins. My twins. This cunt’s gonna be so full of me, you’ll leak for days.”
“Daddy, please—”
“You wanted this,” he gasped, his hips stuttering. “Wanted me like this. A fucking animal. You got it.” He drove home, burying himself to the hilt, his balls slapping heavy against Izuku’s ass. “My dick owns you. My kid owns you. You’re just the warm, wet hole I put them in.”
The filth should have shamed him. It ignited him. Izuku’s back arched, his fingers scrambling for purchase in the sheets. The orgasm built like a tsunami at the base of his spine, fed by the relentless pounding, the possession in Katsuki’s broken voice. He was so deep, so impossibly deep, hitting a place that made Izuku’s vision whiten at the edges.
“I can feel it,” Katsuki moaned, his forehead dropping to Izuku’s shoulder. His thrusts became shorter, harder, a focused brutality. “Your womb. Right there. I’m knocking on its door. Telling it to get ready for the next one.”
Izuku came with a silent, open-mouthed scream. His cunt clenched in violent, rippling waves, milking the cock splitting him open. He squirted again, a hot gush that soaked the sheets beneath them, the sound lost under Katsuki’s roaring groan. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on agony, rooted deep in the swell of his belly, a feedback loop of possession and proof.
Katsuki swore, a broken stream of filth and praise. His rhythm faltered, his whole body seizing. “Izuku—fuck—taking it—” He slammed in one last, devastating time and held, his hips grinding in tiny, helpless circles. Izuku felt the hot pulse deep inside, a flood that seemed to have no end, filling the space his climax had just convulsed around. Katsuki shuddered violently, a full-body tremor, and collapsed on top of him, his weight a solid, sweating anchor.
For a long minute, there was only the sound of their wrecked breathing and the distant, steady *thump-thump-thump* of the headboard’s echo in the wall. Katsuki’s cock, still semi-hard, twitched inside him, a final, possessive jump. Izuku’s thighs trembled uncontrollably around Katsuki’s waist.
Katsuki’s voice was a wrecked scrape near his ear. “It’s not softening.”
Izuku turned his head, his cheek sticking to Katsuki’s damp shoulder. He could see the stunned, almost fearful look in Katsuki’s crimson eyes. The man who controlled everything, undone. “Good,” Izuku whispered, his own voice shot.
Izuku moved before his brain could catch up, a surge of desperate energy rolling their sweat-slick bodies. He straddled Katsuki’s hips, his trembling thighs locking tight, and sank down onto that still-throbbing cock in one fluid, greedy motion. The stretch burned, delicious and familiar, and he cried out, his head falling back. “Fuck—yes—”
“Jesus Christ,” Katsuki gasped beneath him, his hands flying to Izuku’s hips, not to guide but to hold on. His eyes were wide, blown black with shock and relentless want.
Izuku didn’t wait. He planted his hands on Katsuki’s solid chest, fingers digging into the muscle, and set a brutal, punishing pace. His hips slammed down, over and over, taking every inch, the wet slap of skin echoing off the walls. His swollen breasts bounced with each frantic drive, his pregnant belly a firm curve between them. The mix of their fluids—slick, cum, sweat—frothed around the base of Katsuki’s cock, a hot, obscene lube. “More,” Izuku chanted, his voice a broken rasp. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”
“You greedy fucking thing,” Katsuki groaned, his hips surging up to meet each downward plunge. His control was gone, utterly erased. He was just a body giving in, his cock pistoning up into that tight, clenching heat. “Take it. All of it.”
“You’re not empty yet,” Izuku sobbed, riding him harder, his inner muscles fluttering, trying to milk him dry. “I can feel it. Give me everything. Fill me up, Daddy, please—”
Katsuki’s answer was a ragged roar. One hand snapped up to fist in Izuku’s hair, yanking his head down. “Look at you,” he snarled, their faces inches apart. His breath was hot and desperate. “My knocked-up slut, fucking yourself stupid on my dick. You feel that? That’s yours. It’s all yours.”
It was pure need. No thought, just motion and sensation. Izuku’s cunt clenched in rhythmic, squeezing waves, and he squirted again, a hot gush that soaked Katsuki’s stomach and thighs. The orgasm was a sharp, continuous shock, lighting up his nerves. He didn’t stop moving. He couldn’t.
“Again,” Katsuki demanded, his own hips beginning to stutter. His free hand slid between them, his thumb finding Izuku’s swollen clit. He pressed, hard, and rubbed a rough, frantic circle. “Come again. Squirt all over my cock. Show me how much you want it.”
Izuku screamed. The pressure shattered, and another flood of liquid heat pulsed out of him, his body seizing around the thickness splitting him open. His vision whited out. “Daddy—I’m—I can’t—”
“You can,” Katsuki gritted out. His thrusts became shallow, frantic jerks. His body went rigid, every muscle corded tight. “I’m—fuck—Izuku—”
The hot pulse deep inside him felt endless. It wasn’t the sharp burst of before, but a long, flooding release, like a dam had broken. Izuku could feel it, a scorching rush that seemed to have no bottom, filling him until he felt stretched and impossibly full. Katsuki’s groan was a raw, broken thing, torn from the very base of his throat. His cock kept twitching, spilling into Izuku’s clutching cunt long after it should have been possible.
They collapsed together, a tangled, gasping heap. Katsuki was still inside him, still semi-hard, still leaking. The room smelled of sex and salt and something primal. Izuku’s face was buried in Katsuki’s neck, his tears mixing with the sweat there. His thighs quivered violently where they were splayed across Katsuki’s hips.
Katsuki’s hand, trembling slightly, came up to cradle the back of Izuku’s head. His other remained splayed possessively over the small swell of Izuku’s stomach. His breathing was a ragged wreck. “I think,” he whispered, the words hoarse with awe, “you broke my fucking biology.”
Izuku’s laugh was a broken, wet sound against Katsuki’s skin. “You broke me, too,” he whispered, his voice shredded. “Cause I need more. Right now.”
Katsuki’s hand tightened on his stomach. “Good,” he rasped, the word thick with possession. “Cause I do, too.”
He shifted, his semi-hard cock sliding from Izuku’s clenching heat with a wet, obscene sound. Izuku whimpered at the loss, the sudden emptiness a cold shock. But Katsuki was already moving, rolling him onto his hands and knees with a rough, efficient pull. The torn scraps of lace that had been the lingerie slid from Izuku’s skin, forgotten.
Katsuki’s broad hands settled on Izuku’s hips, thumbs digging into the dimples at the base of his spine. He positioned himself, the thick head of his cock nudging against Izuku’s soaked, swollen entrance. Izuku pushed back, a wordless plea.
“Fuck yes,” Katsuki breathed, and drove forward.
The moan that tore from Izuku was loud, unashamed, bliss. Katsuki’s answering groan was lower, a rumble of pure satisfaction. He seated himself to the hilt in one long, brutal stroke, his balls slapping against Izuku’s clit. The stretch was exquisite, a burning fullness that felt like home.
“Fuck,” Katsuki panted, his hips drawing back. “Your cunt’s swallowing me. Like it’s trying to keep me.”
“It is,” Izuku sobbed, pushing back against him. “It wants you to stay. Always stay.”
Katsuki set a deep, rolling rhythm, each thrust a deliberate, grinding possession. The angle was different, hitting a spot that made Izuku’s toes curl. The wet sounds were obscenely loud, a symphony of their joining. Izuku buried his face in the ruined sheets, his cries muffled.
“No,” Katsuki growled, fisting a hand in Izuku’s curls and yanking his head back. “I want to hear you. Want the whole fucking house to hear what I’m doing to you.”
He snapped his hips harder, faster. The pace lost its rhythm, becoming a frantic, driving need. Izuku screamed, the sound raw and unfiltered. His cunt clenched in frantic pulses, squirting another hot gush that splashed against Katsuki’s driving thighs.
“Again,” Katsuki demanded, his voice cracking. “Cum again. Soak me.”
Izuku did. His body convulsed, another flood of liquid heat pulsing out around the cock pistoning inside him. The pleasure was a sharp, continuous ache, rooted deep in his swollen belly. *He’s ruining me*, he thought, delirious. *He’s ruining me and I’m begging for it.*
Katsuki’s control shattered. His thrusts became wild, animalistic. He leaned over Izuku’s back, his teeth sinking into the juncture of Izuku’s neck and shoulder. The bite was a claiming, a anchor. His hips stuttered, and he came with a choked, guttural roar, his cock pulsing a fresh, scorching flood deep into Izuku’s womb.
They collapsed sideways, a tangled heap of trembling limbs. Katsuki was still inside him, still hard. Izuku could feel the twitch, the insistent throb. He laughed, a breathless, incredulous sound. “You’re not done.”
“No,” Katsuki agreed, his voice wrecked. He shifted, rolling them again. “I’m not.”
Time lost meaning. The single lamp burned low. They fucked on the floor, against the wall, in the chair by the window. Katsuki laid Izuku on his back on the soaked mattress and ate his cunt until Izuku sobbed, his thighs shaking, his hands fisted in Katsuki’s hair. Katsuki fucked his throat, deep and slow, until tears streamed from Izuku’s eyes and he swallowed every pulse.
They took breaks that weren’t breaks—panting into each other’s mouths, Katsuki’s hand never leaving Izuku’s stomach, Izuku’s fingers tracing the sweat-slick planes of Katsuki’s back. Then a look, a shift, a whispered “need you,” and they were moving again, a desperate, hungry tangle.
By the time the gray light of dawn bled around the curtains, the room was a warzone. The air was thick, humid, reeking of sex—the musk of sweat, the salty tang of dried spend, the sweet, sharp scent of Izuku’s squirt. The sheets were a sodden ruin, the mattress beneath visibly darkened.
Katsuki lay on his back, utterly spent. His cock, finally soft, lay against his thigh—an angry, red, overused thing. A mere brush of the linen against it made his whole body flinch with a pained, oversensitive tremor.
Izuku was curled on his side facing him, eyes closed. His cunt was a swollen, puffy mess, leaking a slow, continuous trickle of cloudy white that painted his inner thighs. Every slight clench of his muscles made him whimper, the sensitivity bordering on pain.
The knock on the bedroom door was distant, unreal.
It came again, sharper. “Izuku? Mr. Bakugou? It’s Mina. I’ve got Natsuki for the day, just checking in!”
Katsuki’s eyes opened to slits. He looked at Izuku, who hadn’t moved. He looked at the wreck of the room, at their wrecked bodies. A hoarse, breathless chuckle escaped him. “We’re dead,” he rasped. “Tell her we’re dead to the world today.”
Izuku didn’t open his eyes. A faint, triumphant smile touched his ruined lips. “She knows,” he murmured, his voice gone. “She can smell it.”
They heard Mina’s faint, knowing laugh through the door, then her retreating footsteps. Silence settled, heavy and complete. The only sound was their shallow, exhausted breathing.
Katsuki’s hand found Izuku’s under the wrecked sheets, their fingers threading together. They didn’t speak. They just held on.