The thrusts don't stop. They can't. Katsuki’s hips piston forward, a brutal, unrelenting rhythm that drives Izuku’s face deeper into the cool, rumpled sheets with every slam. His cock is a thick, searing brand, splitting Izuku open again and again, the wet, meaty sound of their joining obscene in the silent suite. Izuku claws at the bedding, a choked sob of pure bliss tearing from his throat.
The violent rhythm doesn't falter, not even when the sharp, digital trill of Katsuki’s phone cuts through the wet slap of skin. It’s on the rumpled duvet beside them, screen blazing. Izuku feels the shift in Katsuki’s weight as he leans over, one hand still locked in Izuku’s hair, pinning his face to the sheets, the other groping for the device.
Katsuki’s hips keep driving forward. The phone’s screen illuminates his sweat-slicked chest as he brings it to his face. He lets out a low, strained breath, half groan, half laugh. “It’s my wife.”
“Wha—?” Izuku’s muffled question is swallowed by the mattress as Katsuki thrusts deeper, a punishing grind that makes Izuku’s toes curl.
“Try to be quiet, baby boy,” Katsuki rasps, his voice thick with exertion and something darker. His thumb swipes across the screen. He brings the phone to his ear, his pace never slowing, his cock buried to the hilt inside Izuku’s clenching heat. “Hey.”
His voice is calm. Steady. Almost bored. A complete, jarring contrast to the brutal snap of his hips.
Izuku freezes, every muscle locking in a mixture of terror and delirious arousal. He can hear the faint, tinny sound of a woman’s voice through the receiver. Ochako. He screws his eyes shut, biting the sheet to stifle a moan as Katsuki pulls out and slams back in, a slow, deliberate stroke that steals his breath.
“Yeah, at the Grand Imperial,” Katsuki says, his breath hitching only slightly. “Last-minute investor dinner ran late. Decided to just crash here.”
Another thrust, harder this time. Izuku’s body jolts. A broken whimper escapes him before he can choke it back.
Katsuki’s hand tightens in his hair, a silent warning. “Hm? No, that’s just the TV. Some shitty action movie.” He listens, his hips settling into a relentless, deep rhythm. “The baby’s fine. It's the nanny’s day off. Don’t bother him.”
The word ‘nanny’ spoken into the phone, while his cock is splitting the nanny open, sends a vicious thrill through Izuku. He’s so wet he can hear it, a slick, obscene sound with every withdrawal. He’s trembling, his own need coiling tight, amplified by the insane risk of it all.
"Because he's good at his job, Ochako," Katsuki says, his voice flat, a bored husband enduring a tedious complaint. His hips snap forward, harder this time, making the bedframe creak. Izuku gasps into the sheets, his body bowing under the force.
"What does that even mean? He shows up on time. The kid's alive. He's quiet." Katsuki listens, his jaw tightening. The rhythm of his thrusts becomes less measured, more jagged. "No, I haven't noticed any attitude. He seems perfectly fucking polite to me."
Izuku can hear the edge creeping into Katsuki's tone, the calm facade starting to strain. He pushes his face deeper into the bedding, biting down on a mouthful of silk to contain the moan building in his throat. His pussy clenches, a fresh gush of wetness making the next thrust slide in with a filthy, liquid sound.
"His appearance is irrelevant," Katsuki snarls, the word sharp. His hand fists tighter in Izuku's hair, pulling just shy of painful. "He's a childcare professional, not a goddamn runway model. Are you listening to yourself?"
Another tinny stream of words from the phone. Katsuki’s nostrils flare. He drives into Izuku with a brutal, piston-like force that steals the air from Izuku’s lungs. The slap of skin grows louder, more punishing.
"Natsuki likes him. That's the only metric that matters," Katsuki grates out. He’s fucking in earnest now, no pretense of a lazy rhythm. Each plunge is deep, angry, seeking. "The baby is happy and healthy. What more do you want from the kid?"
Izuku is trembling, his knuckles white where they grip the sheets. The anger in Katsuki’s voice, the violence in his hips—it’s a drug. His own arousal is a live wire, sparking with every degrading, possessive word. He loves it. He loves being the secret weapon, the unspoken point of contention.
"You’re being paranoid," Katsuki says, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. He pauses his thrusts, buried to the hilt, and grinds down hard, making Izuku’s back arch. "The nanny is not a threat to you. To anyone. He does his job and goes home."
The lie is so bald, so cold, delivered while his cock pulses inside the very threat he’s dismissing. Izuku whimpers, the vibration swallowed by the mattress.
Ochako’s voice rises in pitch, audible even to Izuku. Katsuki’s eyes flash. "Enough," he bites off. The word is final. He resumes fucking, a relentless, punishing tempo that has Izuku seeing stars. "I’m not having this argument again. He stays. End of discussion."
With his free hand, Katsuki reaches down and slaps Izuku’s ass, hard. The sharp crack echoes in the room. Izuku jerks, a broken cry tearing free before he can muffle it.
"What was that?" Katsuki asks into the phone, his tone shifting back to that false, distracted calm. "Just dropped the remote. This movie is garbage." He listens, his expression darkening further. "Yeah. Fine. I’ll be home tomorrow. Tell Natsuki I said goodnight."
He doesn’t wait for a goodbye. His thumb stabs the screen to end the call and he chucks the phone across the bed like it’s on fire.
The silence that follows is total, broken only by their ragged breathing and the wet, rhythmic sound of him slamming into Izuku’s body. The pretense is gone. The control is gone.
"You hear that?" Katsuki growls, his voice raw and unfiltered now, all possessive fury. He leans over, his mouth at Izuku’s ear, his breath scalding. "That’s my wife. Talking shit about my nanny."
He punctuates each word with a brutal thrust. "My. Nanny."
Izuku can only nod, a frantic motion, his cheek grinding against the sheets. He’s so close, the coil inside him wound impossibly tight, fed by the danger, by the anger, by the sheer wrongness of it all.
"She doesn’t get to have an opinion about you," Katsuki snarls. He releases Izuku’s hair only to grab his hip, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, holding him in place for a devastating series of drives. "You’re mine. You understand? This cunt is mine. This job is mine to give you."
Izuku’s body breaks. The orgasm rips through him with a violence that matches Katsuki’s fucking. He screams into the sheets, his back seizing, his pussy clenching and gushing around Katsuki’s cock in a hot, soaking flood. He squirts, the liquid soaking the sheets beneath them, his vision whiting out.
Katsuki grunts, a rough, animal sound of approval. "That’s it," he rasps, his rhythm faltering for the first time, becoming frantic, desperate. "Take it. Take all of it, you greedy little slut."
He buries himself to the hilt and locks there, his release tearing out of him in a scalding, relentless flood. It fills Izuku, pulse after brutal pulse, a claiming so deep it feels like branding. He collapses, a dead weight of sweat and spent muscle, crushing Izuku into the soaked sheets. His forehead grinds into the space between Izuku's shoulder blades, a final, wordless anchor.
Katsuki’s voice is a wrecked whisper against Izuku’s skin. "You’re too good with my son."
It’s not praise. It’s a confession. A problem.
Katsuki shifts, his softening cock sliding from Izuku’s body with a wet, intimate sound. He groans, a low rumble of exhaustion, and rolls onto his back, pulling Izuku with him. He maneuvers him until Izuku’s head rests on his shoulder, their bodies aligned on the sweat-damp sheets. The city’s cold light paints their tangled limbs in blue and silver.
Izuku’s breath is still coming in shallow, uneven hitches. His entire body feels liquid, boneless, humming with the aftershocks of that brutal orgasm. He blinks slowly, his cheek pressed to the solid heat of Katsuki’s pectoral muscle. The smell of sex and salt is overwhelming.
“Daddy?” Izuku’s voice is a hoarse, wrecked thing, muffled against Katsuki’s skin.
“Hm.”
“Is that… is that a bad thing?” Izuku swallows, his throat dry. “That I’m good with him? With Natsuki?”
Katsuki doesn’t answer immediately. His broad hand comes up to splay across Izuku’s back, fingers tracing the bumps of his spine. His touch is absent, thoughtful. The anger from the phone call seems to have drained out of him, leaving something heavier in its place.
“It’s a complication,” Katsuki says finally, his voice a gravelly scrape in the quiet room.
Izuku lifts his head just enough to look at him. Katsuki’s profile is sharp against the pillows, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Why?”
“Because it makes you real,” Katsuki says, the words simple and devastating. “You’re not just some hole I’m fucking in a hotel. You’re in my house. You make my son laugh. You notice when he’s teething. You remember his stupid favorite song.”
He turns his head, his crimson eyes capturing Izuku’s in the dim light. “That’s a problem. For her. For me.”
“For you?” Izuku whispers.
“Yeah.” Katsuki’s thumb strokes a slow, idle circle on Izuku’s hip. “Because now I have to think about you leaving. And I don’t want you to leave.”
The confession hangs between them, raw as an open nerve. Izuku’s chest tightens. He pushes up on one elbow, wincing at the ache between his legs, the sticky mess cooling on his thighs. He looks down at Katsuki, searching his face.
“You could just… keep me,” Izuku says, the words leaving him in a reckless, breathless rush.
Katsuki’s mouth twists, not quite a smile. “Keep you?”
“As the nanny. You said the job was yours to give. So give it to me. Permanently.”
“And what?” Katsuki’s hand slides up to cup the back of Izuku’s neck, his grip firm. “You live in the nursery? I fuck you while my wife sleeps down the hall? You think that’s sustainable, baby boy?”
“I think I don’t care,” Izuku breathes. He leans down, his lips a hair’s breadth from Katsuki’s. “I want your cock. I want your son’s smile in the morning. I want it all. I’m greedy, remember?”
Katsuki’s eyes darken. He pulls Izuku the final inch, kissing him hard. It’s not gentle. It’s a claiming, all over again. His tongue invades, tasting himself, tasting Izuku’s surrender. When he breaks it, they’re both breathing harder.
“You have no idea what you’re fully asking for,” Katsuki rasps.
"I do know," Izuku breathes against Katsuki’s mouth. His green eyes are clear, focused, stripped of any leftover innocence. "I'm not stupid, Daddy. I know exactly what this is. What we're doing."
He shifts, wincing at the pleasant ache between his legs, and props himself up more fully. "It's wrong. It's fucked up. And the more I get to know you… the less I give a single damn."
Katsuki watches him, his crimson eyes unreadable in the low light. His broad hand is still a warm weight on the back of Izuku’s neck.
"So yes," Izuku says, a reckless grin tugging at his swollen lips. "I'll be your permanent, live-in nanny. And I'll suck your cock any chance we get. In the laundry room. While Natsuki naps. When she's in the shower."
A slow, predatory smirk spreads across Katsuki’s face. It’s all teeth and promise. "Deal," he growls. "On one condition."
"What?"
"I get to eat this perfect pussy any chance I get." His other hand slides down, fingers tracing the slick, swollen folds between Izuku’s thighs. Izuku gasps, his hips jerking involuntarily.
Izuku giggles, the sound breathy and light. It feels strange after the brutality of the phone call, after the violent claiming. "Maybe… maybe it would be more efficient to 69."
Katsuki’s smirk softens into something dangerously close to wonder. His thumb strokes Izuku’s lower lip. "You are just too fucking perfect."
He pulls Izuku down and kisses him again. This one is different. Deeper. Slower. It’s not just claiming; it’s savoring. His tongue explores Izuku’s mouth with a lazy, thorough heat that makes Izuku’s toes curl. Izuku melts into it, his body going pliant over Katsuki’s solid form.
When they finally break apart, they’re both breathing hard again. The air in the suite feels charged, thicker. The agreement hangs between them, a tangible new layer to their corruption.
"She’ll never agree to a live-in," Katsuki murmurs, his fingers now tracing the line of Izuku’s spine. "Ochako. She wanted you temporary. Disposable."
"So convince her," Izuku whispers, nuzzling into the hollow of Katsuki’s throat. He tastes salt and sandalwood. "You’re Katsuki Bakugou. You get what you want."
Katsuki huffs a laugh, a rough, warm sound that vibrates through Izuku’s chest. "You’re a bad influence, baby boy."
"You love it."
"Yeah," Katsuki admits, the word quiet and real. "I do."
He shifts suddenly, rolling them both. Izuku finds himself on his back, the rumpled sheets cool against his heated skin. Katsuki looms over him, his powerful frame blocking the city lights. His expression is serious now, the playfulness gone.
"It won’t be easy," Katsuki says, his voice low. "You’ll have to be perfect. The perfect nanny. Patient. Professional. Invisible when she’s home."
"I can do that."
"And when she’s not home…" Katsuki’s hand slides down Izuku’s side, over the curve of his hip, his thumb brushing the inside of his thigh. "You’re mine. On your knees. On your back. Wherever I want you."
A shiver runs through Izuku, part fear, part electric anticipation. "Yes, Daddy."
Katsuki leans down, his mouth hovering just above Izuku’s. "This is your last chance to back out. Once I start this… I won’t stop. I’ll keep you. I’ll hide you in my house. I’ll fuck you in my bed when she’s out of town. I’ll come inside you so much you’ll walk around full of me all day."
Izuku’s breath hitches. His pussy clenches, empty and aching, fresh wetness pooling between his legs. "I’m not backing out."
Katsuki searches his face for a long moment. Then he nods, a single, decisive dip of his chin. "Okay."
Katsuki kisses him again, and this one is different. It’s not claiming or sealing a deal. It’s deep, consuming, a slow tangle of tongues that tastes like whiskey and shared sweat and something frighteningly close to reverence. Izuku moans into it, his hands coming up to clutch at Katsuki’s broad shoulders, holding him close, trying to pull him closer still.
They kiss for a long time. Until their lungs burn and their lips are numb. Until the city lights outside blur into golden streaks. When they finally break, foreheads pressed together, their breaths mix in the scant space between them.
“I want you again,” Izuku whispers, the words a confession against Katsuki’s mouth.
“You just had me.”
“I want more of you.”
Katsuki doesn't answer with words. He moves, a fluid, powerful roll that has Izuku on his feet and then spun around, his front pressed against the cold, floor-to-ceiling window. The city stretches out below them, a grid of golden light, and Izuku’s breath fogs the glass.
"Hold on," Katsuki growls in his ear, his hands rough on Izuku’s hips, pulling him back onto his already hardening cock. He’s slick with their combined spend from before, and he slides into Izuku’s soaked pussy with one brutal, unbroken thrust.
Izuku cries out, a sharp, loud sound that echoes in the suite. His palms slap against the cool glass. "Daddy—"
"That’s it," Katsuki grunts, setting a punishing rhythm immediately, his hips slamming forward. "Let the whole fucking city hear you."
He feels impossibly deep like this, angled perfectly. Every drive punches a choked moan from Izuku’s throat. His curls are a dark mess against the window, his body jolting with each impact. Katsuki’s grip is bruising, holding him in place, owning every inch of the thrust.
"You like that, baby boy? My cock in this greedy little cunt?"
"Yes! God, yes, just like that—" Izuku is babbling, his voice climbing. The pleasure is a white-hot wire pulled tight from his core to his throat. He’s already close, the overstimulation from earlier just a baseline for this new, sharper fire.
Katsuki changes the angle, dipping lower, and Izuku screams. It’s a raw, shattered sound. His body arches, back bowing, and a gush of warm fluid soaks Katsuki’s thighs and the carpet below. He spasms around Katsuki’s cock, milking it, his vision spotting.
"Fuck," Katsuki snarls, driving into the clenching heat. "Squirt again. Do it."
He fucks him through the orgasm, relentless, and Izuku does, another helpless rush of liquid pleasure splattering against the window and Katsuki’s stomach. Katsuki’s rhythm stutters, his own release roaring up. He buries himself to the hilt and comes with a guttural groan, pumping his seed deep into Izuku’s trembling body.
They stay there for a moment, panting, plastered against the window. Katsuki’s forehead rests between Izuku’s shoulder blades. The city lights blur.
"Again," Izuku whispers, his voice hoarse.
Katsuki laughs, a low, incredulous sound. He pulls out slowly, and Izuku whines at the loss, feeling the immediate drip of cum and slick down his thighs. Katsuki turns him, kisses him hard. "Insatiable brat."
He walks Izuku backward, their mouths still connected, until the backs of Izuku’s knees hit the low, leather sofa. Izuku falls onto it, and Katsuki is on him, pushing his legs up and apart. He doesn’t enter him again. He lowers his head between Izuku’s thighs.
"You said 69 would be efficient," Katsuki murmurs, his breath hot on Izuku’s wet folds. "But I just need more of this pussy by itself.”
His tongue is flat and demanding against Izuku’s swollen clit. Izuku shrieks, his hands flying to Katsuki’s spiky hair. Katsuki eats him like a man starved, licking up his own cum mixed with Izuku’s nectar, sucking his sensitive flesh until Izuku is thrashing, sobbing, coming again in a rush that Katsuki drinks down.
"Now," Katsuki says, surging up, his mouth glistening. He straddles Izuku’s chest, his heavy, half-hard cock brushing Izuku’s lips. "Suck me clean. Get me hard again."
Izuku opens his mouth without hesitation, taking the thick head past his lips. He tastes himself, salty and musky, and the faint bitterness of Katsuki’s spend. He hollows his cheeks, sucking hard, his tongue working the frenulum. Katsuki watches, his crimson eyes dark, one hand fisted in Izuku’s green curls.
"Use your hands," Katsuki commands, his voice thick. "Play with your pretty little cunt while you suck me. Show me how much you want it."
Izuku moans around the cock in his mouth, his own hand sliding down his body. Two fingers slide easily into his well-used hole, crooking up, and he whimpers, his back arching off the couch. He’s a mess of sensation, every nerve alive.
Katsuki grows rock-hard again in his mouth, his hips pushing forward gently. "Good boy. Now spread that cunt open for me.”
Izuku obeys, his fingers sliding from inside himself to spread his swollen, dripping lips apart, presenting his used hole to the man straddling his chest. The sight makes Katsuki’s cock jump against Izuku’s tongue.
“Fucking perfect,” Katsuki rasps, his hand tightening in Izuku’s hair. He pulls his hips back, dragging his cock from Izuku’s mouth with a wet pop. “On your knees. Now.”
Izuku scrambles off the sofa, his body thrumming, and gets to his knees on the deep pile rug. Katsuki stands before him, his massive cock jutting out, flushed and leaking. He doesn’t guide it back to Izuku’s mouth. He turns him roughly, pushing Izuku’s upper body down over the low leather sofa, so his ass is high in the air, his spread pussy and the tight, pink furl of his asshole on blatant display.
Katsuki’s palm comes down hard on Izuku’s right cheek. The slap echoes, and Izuku cries out, his body jolting forward. “You’re dripping on my rug, baby boy.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy—”
“Don’t be sorry.” Katsuki’s voice is a dark promise. He aligns the broad head of his cock with Izuku’s sopping entrance. “Be greedy.”
He drives in, one brutal, unbroken thrust that sheathes him completely. Izuku screams, his fingers clawing at the leather. He’s so full, so stretched, the burn of it a bright, glorious pain. Katsuki doesn’t wait for him to adjust. He sets a punishing rhythm immediately, his hips slamming forward, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the suite.
“This cunt,” Katsuki grunts, one hand fisting in Izuku’s curls, forcing his face into the sofa cushion. “Made for my cock. Squirt for me. Show me.”
Izuku sobs, the pressure coiling impossibly tight. With three more deep, grinding thrusts, his body seizes. A hot gush of liquid erupts from him, soaking Katsuki’s balls and thighs, pattering onto the rug below. Katsuki groans, his rhythm never faltering, fucking him through the gushing release.
“Again,” Katsuki snarls.
He changes the angle, pulling Izuku’s hips higher, and Izuku comes apart a second time, a continuous stream of slick pouring out of him as Katsuki pistons into his clenching channel. The room smells of sex and salt and musk.
Katsuki pulls out suddenly. Izuku whines at the emptiness, but then he feels the blunt pressure at his other hole. “Daddy, please—”
“Please what?” Katsuki spits onto his fingers, works them roughly against Izuku’s tight rim, then presses the head of his cock there. “You want this, too?”
“Yes! Yes, I want it, I want all of it—”
Katsuki pushes in, a slow, inexorable invasion that steals Izuku’s breath. It’s tighter, a sharp burn that melts into a deep, filling ache. Katsuki bottoms out, his hips flush against Izuku’s ass, and stays there, letting him feel the full, throbbing length. “You take me so good. Both holes. My personal little fucktoy.”
He starts to move, a slower, more deliberate pace, each withdrawal making Izuku clench around nothing before he’s filled again. Izuku is babbling, nonsense and pleas, his body alight. He feels another orgasm building, different, deeper. Katsuki feels it too. He leans over, his chest hot against Izuku’s back, his mouth at Izuku’s ear.
“Come for me, baby. Milk my cock dry.”
Izuku shatters. His body convulses, another rush of fluid splattering the sofa leg, and his asshole spasms rhythmically around Katsuki’s thrusts. That triggers Katsuki’s own release. He buries himself with a guttural roar, pumping his seed deep into Izuku’s ass, his hips jerking through the pulses.
They stay locked like that for a long minute, both trembling. Katsuki finally pulls out, and Izuku collapses onto his side on the rug, spent. He feels the immediate, warm leak of cum from his ass. Katsuki looks down at him, his cock already beginning to swell again, glistening with their mixed fluids.
“We’re not done,” Katsuki says, his voice hoarse. He hooks a foot under Izuku’s hip. “Up. Bedroom.”
Izuku stumbles to his feet, his legs shaky. Katsuki leads him by the wrist into the massive bedroom, pushing him backward onto the silk duvet. He follows him down, kissing him hungrily, his hands roaming Izuku’s sticky, oversensitive skin. He spends what feels like an hour just touching him, biting his puffy nipples, licking the sweat from his collarbones, whispering filth into his mouth.
Izuku’s clit is hard, aching, his pussy throbbing with emptiness. “Katsuki, please, I need—”
“I know what you need.” Katsuki moves between his legs, lifting them over his shoulders. He doesn’t use his cock. He lowers his mouth, his tongue spearing into Izuku’s well-used hole, licking up the combined mess of spend and squirt. Izuku arches off the bed, screaming.
Katsuki eats him like it’s his last meal, until Izuku is coming again, a weak, shuddering orgasm that has him squirting a thin, continuous stream onto Katsuki’s chin. Katsuki drinks it, then surges up, his mouth a messy, wet brand on Izuku’s.
“Roll over,” he commands.
Izuku does, onto his stomach. Katsuki drapes over his back, his cock sliding through the slick cleft of Izuku’s ass, nudging against his hole. He reaches for the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer. Izuku hears the click of a cap, then feels the cool drizzle of lube. Katsuki’s fingers push inside him, stretching him again, preparing him.
“You want my cock in this pretty ass again?” Katsuki whispers, his teeth on Izuku’s shoulder.
“Yes, Daddy, please, I want it—”
Katsuki pushes in, slow and full, and Izuku moans into the duvet. This time, the pace is relentless, deep, hard drives that shake the bedframe. Izuku is so overstimulated he feels like a live wire, every nerve screaming.
He comes again, a gush of clear fluid soaking the sheets beneath his hips, his body convulsing around Katsuki’s cock. Katsuki doesn’t let up, fucking him straight through it, and Izuku comes a even more, another hot splash leaving him as he shakes, the duvet beneath them soaked through.
Katsuki fucks him through it all, his own release building. He’s grunting with every thrust, his rhythm starting to fray.
Katsuki pulls out of his ass and flips Izuku onto his back in one brutal motion. He drives back into Izuku’s soaking pussy, and Izuku screams, his back arching off the soaked duvet as another flood of slick gushes out around the thick intrusion. “There it is,” Katsuki growls, pistoning into him, his gaze locked on the mess he’s making. “Fucking sprinkler. Don’t you ever stop?”
“I can’t— it’s you, it’s always you—” Izuku sobs, his hands scrambling at Katsuki’s sweat-slick shoulders. Every thrust sends another hot spill from his body, pattering onto the sheets, coating Katsuki’s thighs. Katsuki leans down, biting Izuku’s lower lip, swallowing his cries.
Katsuki breaks the kiss, his teeth scraping Izuku's swollen lip. "You hear that?" he rasps, his hips never stopping their brutal rhythm. Izuku can only sob, another hot gush answering the deep thrust. "That's your cunt begging me to ruin it. Begging me to fill it so full you'll taste me for a week."
"Please," Izuku chokes out, his body convulsing around the thick invasion. "Daddy, please, fill me—"
Katsuki does. He comes with a guttural roar, pumping his seed deep, and the hot flood triggers Izuku's own release—another violent splash that soaks the sheets beneath them. Katsuki collapses on top of him for only a moment before pulling out, the sudden emptiness making Izuku whine. "Turn over," Katsuki orders, his voice wrecked, his cock already weeping and hard again against Izuku's thigh.
Izuku obeys, presenting his ass, and Katsuki spits onto his loosened hole before pushing back in, slow and excruciating. "This one, too," Katsuki grunts, bottoming out. Izuku screams into the duvet, his oversensitive body sparking with fresh lightning. Katsuki fucks his ass with deep, measured strokes, one hand fisted in Izuku's curls. "Gonna pump this full. Gonna leave you dripping from both ends."
He does. When he comes again, it's with a shudder that shakes them both, and Izuku feels the hot spill inside his ass, a different, deeper fullness. He's squirming, another orgasm ripped from him, a weak stream of slick adding to the ruin beneath them.
Katsuki pulls out, and Izuku feels the immediate, warm leak. "Look at you," Katsuki breathes, turning him onto his back again. His thumb swipes through the mess at Izuku's entrance. "Gaping. My perfect little fucktoy."
The first blade of sunrise bleeds through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the wreckage of the suite in pale gold. It catches the dust motes still spinning in the air, the discarded green silk dress, the empty bottle on the sideboard. Katsuki’s thumb is still smearing the wet mess between Izuku’s legs, but his movements have slowed to a sluggish, possessive circle. Izuku’s body is a map of bites and bruises, trembling with aftershocks, his pussy and ass both leaking steadily onto the ruined silk duvet.
“Sun’s up,” Izuku whispers, his voice shot.
“No shit.” Katsuki’s gaze flicks to the window, then back to Izuku’s face. There’s no alarm in his red eyes, only a deep, sated exhaustion. “Told the hag I’d be home this morning. Fuck it.”
“You’re not going back?”
“Not until I’ve slept for a decade and fucked you awake again.” Katsuki finally removes his hand, wiping it carelessly on the sheet before collapsing onto his back beside Izuku. The mattress groans. He throws a heavy arm across Izuku’s stomach, pinning him. “She can deal with it.”
Izuku turns his head. Katsuki’s profile is sharp in the new light, his ash-blond hair dark with sweat, his eyes already closed. The city below is beginning to murmur, a distant traffic hum. Here, there’s only the sound of their breathing, the slick, warm seep between Izuku’s thighs, and the absolute, terrifying certainty that Katsuki meant what he said. He’s choosing this. Choosing him.
Izuku shifts closer, his sticky skin sealing to Katsuki’s side. “Daddy,” he breathes, not a plea, just a name for the feeling.
Katsuki’s arm tightens. “Sleep, baby boy.”