The smell of coffee and toast filled the kitchen of the big, quiet house. Inko hummed as she buttered a slice, her green hair catching the morning sun through the bay window. Katsuki stood at the counter, gripping his mug like it was an anchor, the ceramic warm against his palms.

“Did you sleep well, dear?” Inko asked, her voice soft with concern. “You seemed a little distant last night.”

“Fine,” Katsuki said, the word coming out too short. He cleared his throat. “Just thinking about the Henderson case.”

Footsteps, light and deliberate, came down the hall. Izuku appeared in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of thin, grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. His bare chest was a map of freckles, his small nipples peaked in the cool air. He leaned against the frame, his green eyes finding Katsuki immediately.

“Morning, Mom,” Izuku said, his gaze never wavering from his stepfather. “Kacchan.”

“Good morning, sweetheart!” Inko smiled, turning back to the stove. “I’m making eggs.”

“Sounds perfect.” Izuku pushed off the doorframe and padded barefoot across the tile. He stopped right behind Katsuki, his front not quite touching the older man’s back. Katsuki could feel the heat radiating from him. “Coffee smells strong. Just how you like it, right, Kacchan?”

Katsuki’s knuckles went white around the mug. “Yeah.”

Izuku reached around him, his arm brushing Katsuki’s side, to grab the coffee pot. The movement pressed him closer for a breath, a full second of contact. Katsuki froze, his whole body screaming. He could smell Izuku’s sleep-warm skin, something clean and uniquely him.

“You’re blocking the sugar, Dad,” Izuku murmured, the title a hot whisper against the shell of Katsuki’s ear.

Katsuki jerked to the side as if scalded. Inko turned, holding a plate of scrambled eggs, her expression serene. “Izuku, don’t crowd him. Katsuki, sit, eat. You need fuel for the day.”

They sat at the table, a picturesque triangle of domestic hell. Inko chatted about her plans for the garden studio. Katsuki forced down eggs that tasted like ash. Izuku ate slowly, watching Katsuki over the rim of his juice glass, his toes tracing a line up Katsuki’s pant leg under the table.

“I was thinking,” Inko said, “we should have a family dinner tonight. Something special. To celebrate being home.”

“Great idea,” Izuku said, his foot sliding higher, settling against Katsuki’s inner calf. “Just the three of us.”

She Katsuki stood up suddenly, his chair scraping loud on the floor. “I’ve got an early meeting. Paperwork to review.”

“But you haven’t finished—” Inko started.

“I’ll get something later.” He couldn’t breathe. The touch under the table was a brand. He walked out, leaving his half-full plate, feeling Izuku’s eyes on his back like a physical weight.

He didn’t go to his study. He went to the guest bathroom down the hall, locked the door, and braced his hands on the cold marble sink. His reflection in the mirror was a stranger—flushed, jaw tight, eyes wide with a panic that felt like lust. His cock was already hard, straining against his tailored slacks, a thick, aching betrayal. He remembered the wet heat of Izuku’s mouth on the cruise ship, the slick, clutching tightness of his pussy around him on the pool deck, the sounds he’d made when he came.

A soft knock at the door made his whole body flinch. “Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice, a sweet, poisonous syrup. “Mom wants to know if you need aspirin. You looked… tense.”

Katsuki’s hand shot out, wrenching the door open. He grabbed Izuku by the forearm and yanked him inside, slamming the door shut and locking it again in one frantic motion. He shoved Izuku back against the wood, his mouth crashing down onto Izuku’s in a hard, desperate kiss. It was all teeth and hunger, a year of suppressed want detonating in the span of a breath.

Izuku made a small, startled sound against his lips, then melted, his hands coming up to fist in Katsuki’s shirt. Katsuki kissed him like he was drowning, and Izuku was the only air. His tongue pushed into Izuku’s mouth, claiming, consuming, his body pinning the younger man to the door.

He broke the kiss, gasping, his forehead pressed to Izuku’s. “You,” he rasped, the word raw. “You little fuck.”

Izuku’s lips were slick and red, his eyes dark. “What’s gotten into you, Kacchan?” he breathed, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Miss me?”

Katsuki didn’t answer with words. His hands went to the waistband of Izuku’s sweatpants, shoving them down over his hips in one rough push. They pooled at Izuku’s ankles. Katsuki’s gaze dropped, taking in the naked, freckled skin, the smooth mound, the shaved, glistening folds already damp for him. A low groan tore from his throat.

His hands gripping Izuku’s bare hips. He didn’t hesitate. He bent forward and took one of Izuku’s small, pink nipples into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue swirling over the peak.

“Ah—Daddy—” Izuku gasped, his head thudding back against the door. His fingers tangled in Katsuki’s spiky hair, not pushing him away, but holding him there. “Fuck, yes…”

Katsuki worshipped his chest with a desperate, focused intensity, sucking one bud then the other into the wet heat of his mouth, teeth grazing, tongue flicking. He could feel them harden against his lips, could taste the clean salt of Izuku’s skin. His own cock was a painful, throbbing weight in his slacks, leaking pre-come that soaked through his boxers.

“You like that?” Katsuki growled against his skin, his breath hot. “You like me desperate for you?”

“I love it,” Izuku whimpered, arching his chest into Katsuki’s mouth. “I love how desperate you are. Can’t even eat breakfast without getting hard for me, could you?”

Katsuki answered by sliding a hand down the flat plane of Izuku’s stomach, feeling the smooth skin, his fingers finding slick heat. He pushed two fingers inside without warning, curling them, and Izuku cried out, a sharp, muffled sound as he bit his own fist.

“Quiet,” Katsuki ordered, his voice a rough whisper. He worked his fingers in and out, the sound wet and obscene in the silent bathroom. “Your mother is right out there.”

“She’s—ah—loading the dishwasher,” Izuku panted, his hips rocking onto Katsuki’s hand. “She can’t hear. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? The risk?”

Katsuki’s hands slid from Izuku’s hips to the backs of his thighs, gripping hard. He lifted him effortlessly, pinning him against the bathroom door, the wood creaking softly under their combined weight. Izuku’s legs wrapped around Katsuki’s waist, his arms looping around his neck.

“Do you like the risk?” Katsuki snarled, his voice a ragged scrape against Izuku’s mouth. He fumbled with his belt, his slacks, shoving the fabric down just enough. His cock, thick and weeping, sprang free, the flushed head nudging against Izuku’s wet, spread folds. “Do you want Mommy to catch us?”

Izuku’s breath hitched, his eyes blown wide. “Yes,” he whispered, a frantic, honest sound.

“Do you want her to watch?” Katsuki pressed, not waiting for an answer. He aligned himself and drove up, burying every inch of his ten-inch cock into the slick, clutching heat of Izuku’s pussy in one brutal, sinking thrust. The door shuddered against their impact. “Do you want her to see how good Daddy fucks you?”

Izuku cried out, a sharp, choked sound he muffled by biting Katsuki’s shoulder. His inner walls fluttered, a spasming, wet grip around the invading thickness. “Fuck—Daddy—yes!”

Katsuki set a punishing pace immediately, pulling back only to slam home again, each thrust a furious piston driven by self-loathing and a hunger that felt like dying. The slap of skin, the wet, rhythmic sound of their joining, filled the small room. He fucked him against the door, the force of it rattling the frame in its hinges.

“She’s right out there,” Katsuki grunted into his ear, his hips never stuttering. “Listening to her dishwasher. Thinking her husband is a good man. Thinking her son is a good boy.” He drove deeper, grinding on the upstroke, making Izuku sob. “You feel that? That’s me ruining everything she has left.”

Izuku clawed at his back, his nails digging through the fine cotton of Katsuki’s shirt. “Harder,” he begged, his voice broken. “She should know. She should see what you really are. What we are.”

A wicked, sharp-toothed smirk split Katsuki’s face. With a brutal grunt of effort, he pulled out, the sudden emptiness making Izuku whimper, then hefted him higher, carrying him away from the door as if he weighed nothing. One hand fumbled with the lock, the click echoing like a gunshot in the quiet room. He swung the door wide open.

The empty hallway stretched before them, pristine and silent. The distant hum of the dishwasher was the only sound from the kitchen.

“You want the risk?” Katsuki snarled, his voice raw. He positioned Izuku’s dripping entrance back onto the head of his cock and drove up, impaling him again in mid-air, his arms corded with the strain of holding him aloft. They were fully exposed, framed in the doorway. “Call for her then.”

Izuku’s eyes flew wide, his bravado shattering into pure, startled panic. “K-Kacchan—the door—!”

“Call her!” Katsuki commanded, punctuating each word with a deep, rolling thrust that jolted Izuku in his grasp. The wet slap of their joining was obscenely loud in the open space. “Let her come see. Let her see what her husband’s fat cock does to her son’s slutty pussy.”

Izuku’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. His arms tightened around Katsuki’s neck, clinging, his body seizing around the thick invasion with each punishing lift and drop. He buried his face in Katsuki’s shoulder, a broken, muffled sob escaping him.

“Not so brave now?” Katsuki hissed, his breath hot against Izuku’s ear. He paced slowly backwards, then forwards, fucking him right on the threshold, each step a deliberate, brutal demonstration. The cool air from the hallway washed over their sweat-slicked skin. “She could walk down this hall any second. See how you take me. See how you drip for me.”

“Please,” Izuku gasped, the word shuddering out of him. It wasn’t a plea to stop. It was surrender.

“Please what?” Katsuki ground out, slowing his thrusts to a deep, torturous grind, letting Izuku feel every inch stretching him, filling him, in the terrifying openness. “You wanted this. You built this. Now live in it.”

Izuku lifted his head, his eyes glassy with overwhelmed sensation and fear. He turned his head to look down the vacant hall, then back at his Katsuki's face. A strange, wrecked smile touched his lips. “Daddy,” he whispered, the title a sacred filth. “I’m gonna come.”

Katsuki’s control snapped. He slammed Izuku back against the doorjamb, using it for leverage, and fucked into him with a frantic, final intensity. The wood dug into Izuku’s back, his legs locked around Katsuki’s waist, his heels driving into the small of his back.

Izuku came with a silent, open-mouthed scream, his body convulsing, a hot gush of release soaking Katsuki’s cock and stomach. The clenching, fluttering suction pulled Katsuki over the edge instantly. He drove deep and held, a guttural groan tearing from his chest as he emptied himself in pulsing, endless waves inside his stepson, his vision whiting out at the edges.

They hung there in the open doorway, panting, dripping, utterly ruined. Katsuki’s arms trembled with exhaustion. He slowly, carefully, lowered Izuku until his bare feet touched the cool hardwood of the hallway floor. They stood connected, spent, exposed to the empty house. The silence was louder than any scream.