"Katsuki…" you began, but he shook his head, his eyes devouring your face, your mouth, your neck, as if he were already imagining where he would put his hands, his teeth, his tongue.
"No." He ordered. "Don't speak. Not now."
And then he grabbed you.
It wasn't gentle, that grip. He wasn't careful. His fingers closed around your wrist with a force you knew would bruise, pulling you toward him with a movement so abrupt you stumbled against him. His body collided with yours, hard, hot, alive, and for a second you couldn't tell where you ended and he began.
Katsuki moved closer until your back met the wall, his presence filling the air, heavy with heat and unspoken words. His hands gripping your hips with a possessiveness that took your breath away. "Tell me," he panted against your lips, breathing in your ear. "Tell me you want me. Only me. Now. FUCK, tell me!"
You should have resisted. You should have reminded him that it doesn't work that way, that he couldn't demand just because he wanted to.
But then his lips were on yours, and every coherent thought dissolved in the flame.
It wasn't a kiss, it was a bite. He bit your lower lip, drawing a moan from you, and you tasted your blood mingling with his, wild and breathless. His hands slid under your shirt, fingers scraping your skin as he undressed you with a fury that raised goosebumps.
"Katsuki!" You tried to say, but he closed your mouth with another kiss, deeper though, his tongue invading your mouth with such force that your back arched against the wall.
"Shut up, FUCK. Shut up! Feel me! Give me your love…"
And you felt it.
You felt his hands everywhere, on your breasts, your hips, your back. You were completely naked before him. You felt his cock, hard as steel, pressing against you through your jeans. Your inner thighs twitched.
"I want you," he panted, biting your neck and crying, his teeth leaving red marks on your skin. "I want you, all of you. Not just your body or your fucking wet pussy." His words were filled with desire and desperation. "I want you to be mine. Only mine. I'll never let you lack anything, I swear."
"Katsuki…let me talk, please."
"NO!"
"But it's important!"
"Save the beating around the bush!"
You felt your heart push against your ribs. "Okay. I'm pregnant."
The words fell into the air like stones in water. Katsuki jerked back as if he'd been hit. His eyes widened, pupils swallowing his irises. His chest heaved. He teetered between being a hero and just being twenty-two.
"W-w-what?" he asked, breathless. "Whose…?" His voice came out broken, lower than usual. "Who…who could be the father?"
You swallowed. You'd been preparing the words days before, but saying them like that was a leap into the unknown. "Toshinori can't. I've already asked, and he confessed to me that he's sterile, which is why he doesn't have children at his age. You two are the only ones. I've been on the pill for a while now, but something's gone wrong, I need to figure out what."
A glint in his eyes. "So..."
"So, it's yours."
Something flashed across his face, a flash of disbelief and anger, then a hint of fear. His hands opened and closed in vain, as if searching for a nonexistent detonator. "Are you... are you kidding me?"
"No." Your voice was firm, more firm than you could hear. "I'm not doing you a favor, I'm not setting a trap for you. It's the truth. And I'm telling you this now because I didn't want you to… to waste away without knowing."
His legs buckled beneath him, he fell to his knees with a thud, his hands covering his face as if he could hide from the truth. A sob tore through his chest, violent, uncontrollable. "My..." The word was broken in half, as if he couldn't believe it could be real. His shoulders trembled, his body convulsed by an emotion so overwhelming he didn't know how to contain it.
You looked at him, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. You hadn't expected a reaction like that — not from him. Not from Katsuki, who until that moment had been all anger and possessiveness, who had wanted you with a hunger so fierce it had frightened you. But now… there was something different in his eyes. Something that looked almost like hope.
He took a step back, the air catching in his throat. "Why didn't you tell me right away?"
"Because I was afraid," you admitted. "Of everything. Of you. Of me. Of what we would become."
"How long have you known?"
"A week."
Katsuki lowered his gaze for just a moment, while tears streamed down his cheeks again. He looked back at you. "And...now?"
"And now…"
"You…do you want to keep him?"
"I would, yes." You said, your voice catching in your throat.
"And…do you want to stay with me?"
"Yes. For the baby's sake…yes."
He moved before you could react, pulling you into his arms and burying his face against your chest.
KATSUKI'S POV.
Damn, that morning I was in class, sitting there with the air of a king surveying his kingdom. My legs were stretched out, muscles tight under my dark jeans as I drummed absently on the worn wood of my desk. I wasn't listening. I didn't give a damn about combat strategies or defense techniques. My eyes that morning were riveted on you like claws.
You moved with a grace that drove me crazy, your body sinuous and wrapped in that tight skirt that clung to your hips like a second skin, highlighting every curve, every bulge of your swollen belly. My belly. My baby. My woman.
Every time you turned around, every time the fabric stretched over your firm ass, I felt the blood boil in my veins, my possessiveness gripping my insides like a vice, every fucking time. I wanted to brutally lift your fucking skirt, rip off your panties with my teeth, and sink my fingers into your soft flesh until I left marks. I wanted to hear your moans, your pleas, as I pounded you against the blackboard, the chalk scratching your bare back, and my cock pounding you mercilessly.
A shiver ran down my spine as you bent to write low on the board, your skirt rising slightly, revealing a glimpse of pale, silky thigh. Mineta turned to me, winking conspiratorially. I drew my thumb beneath my chin in a deadly little gesture, the unspoken message clear: "I'll kill you."
I gritted my teeth, my nails digging into my palms. Christ, how I wanted to grab you right there, in that exact spot, to feel you twitch under my filthy fingers.
I imagined lifting your skirt to your waist, ripping it all off with a single tug, seeing your pussy already soaking wet, glistening, ready for me. I would lick every inch of you, from your tight, wet slit to your swollen clit, making you tremble until you begged me to fuck you like a whore. And I would have. I would have taken you so hard you would have felt my cum dripping down your thighs for days.
You straightened, running a hand through your brown hair in a gesture that should have been innocent, but to me it seemed the most obscene thing I'd ever seen. Your breasts, fuller now that you were carrying my child, heaved with every breath, pressing against your silk blouse as if you were offering me up. I felt my cock hardening in my pants, it hurt from how tight it was, and the tip was already wet. I wanted to take it out right there, in class, and touch myself while you looked at me, imagining coming on those swollen tits, on that round belly, on that saintly face that hid a slut.
As if sensing the weight of my gaze, you suddenly turned toward the class. Our eyes met.
I didn't look away. In fact, I smiled at you. God, you're so beautiful...
My smile then turned into a silent snarl, a warning, a dirty thing. My lips were slightly parted, my eyes half-closed, my body tense like a wild beast ready to pounce on its prey. Fuck, I want you so much. That smile said it all. I want you now. I want you on your knees. I want you screaming as I fill you with cum until you explode.
I noticed you feel a wave of heat flooding your lower abdomen, and I also noticed your thighs instinctively tightening. Maybe it was because I was looking at you as if you could be naked even through your clothes, as if I knew exactly how wet you were at that moment, how your body betrayed your darkest thoughts.
Then you lowered your eyes, your cheeks burning, and forced yourself to continue the lesson. But you couldn't concentrate. Not with that fire burning inside you, not with the knowledge that I was there, that I was devouring you with my eyes, that you knew everything.
I didn't take my eyes off you the entire class. Every time you moved, every time you breathed, every time you ran a hand over your swollen belly, I followed every movement with an almost sickening intensity. When you turned toward the blackboard, my eyes trailed down the curve of your back, imagining tracing it with my nails, biting it until you bled. When you turned toward us, I stared at the way your blouse stretched over your breasts, imagining ripping it off and sucking your nipples until they were hard and sore, until you cried.
The bell rang, and you jumped, as if awakened from a nightmare, and turned to the clock. Class was over. All my fucking loser classmates began gathering their things and moving toward the exit with hushed murmurs, but I remained seated, motionless. My legs were still stretched out, my arms crossed over my chest, my eyes fixed on you like two red-hot nails.
You felt my gaze oppressive. You forced yourself to gather your notes calmly, your fingers trembling slightly. You had to go. You had to get out of that room before I decided to get up and go to you, before you broke and you gave in right there, on the desk, with the door still open. But there was something in that attitude, in that threatening silence, that paralyzed you.
When I finally had your gaze on me, I was still there, sitting, motionless like a black marble statue. But my eyes...they were two burning embers, I wanted to burn your skin even from a distance. I didn't say anything. I didn't need to. My smile, that same mischievous grin, full of dirty thoughts, spoke for me.
You swallowed, almost hearing your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Maybe you'd ask me: what are you still doing here? Why don't you leave? Why don't you stop looking at me like I'm your property? But I knew the answers. Because, deep down, you didn't want me to stop. Because a part of you, a dark, secret part you hated to admit existed, loved the way I looked at you.
I slowly rose from my desk, feeling rather fed up. The chair slid back with a metallic noise that sounded like a gunshot in the silence of the classroom. I kept looking at you. Always. My every move was calculated, predatory, like that of a wolf closing in on its prey, knowing it would have no escape.
You instinctively recoiled, your breathing becoming more labored. No, not here, not now — you would have screamed. But the words wouldn't come out. You couldn't say them. Not when your treacherous body was already preparing for me, not when you felt the moist heat between your thighs increase with every step I took toward you.
I stopped a few inches from you. I could smell your perfume, the scent of your skin that drove me crazy every time. I could see the way your chest rose and fell, panting, your hard nipples pressing down there. I could feel your desire, hot and suffocating like a furnace.
"Sensei," I said. The way I'd said that title was an insult, a mockery. Because we both knew that, at that moment, you were not my teacher. You were my woman. My whore.
You looked up, meeting my lava-red eyes. You said nothing. The words were stuck in your throat, choked by desire, shame, and the fear of what might happen if anyone walked in.
I reached out a hand, slowly, as if not to frighten you. I brushed a lock of your hair, wrapping it around my fingers with a delicacy that contrasted with the wild hunger in my eyes. "You know you can't run away from me," I murmured. "It doesn't matter how many doors you close. It doesn't matter how many times you try to ignore me." My fingers slid down your cheek, to your neck, and I stopped there, touching your jugular vein. "You're mine, Sensei. And this…" My hand slid down, settling on your belly, possessive, almost violent, "…only makes it more real."
You closed your eyes, a moan escaping your lips. God, why did she have to do this? Why did every moan of hers make my blood rush to my brain? Why did every time I touched her, I made her feel so…submissive? So mine? So willing to do anything to feel me inside her?
I leaned over to kiss your lips. "Tonight…" I whispered. "I'm coming over tonight. You'll be so full of my cum it'll be dripping out of you for a week." I nibbled your earlobe, hard enough to hurt. "And if you ever say no, I swear I'll fuck you right here, on the desk, with the door open, so everyone can see how much of a slut you are, getting wet for my cock."
Then I withdrew, leaving you there. You were mine. Only mine. All mine. And I would never stop reminding you of it.
***
The room was now empty, the silence broken only by your labored breathing and the click of your heels on the linoleum as you tried to regain control. Your legs were shaking, the heat between your thighs had become unbearable. God, how you wanted him. How you hated yourself for it. But you couldn't deny it: every word he'd whispered to you, every dirty word, every veiled threat, had made you even wetter.
You ran a hand over your belly, feeling the small bulge under your palm, as if he knew too. As if he too was complicit in that sin. Katsuki's son. The fruit of that night when you'd let yourself be taken like a whore, when you'd screamed his name as he filled you with cum, marking you forever.
You forced yourself to walk toward the door, your fingers clutching your bag like a life preserver. But before leaving, you turned around one last time. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you remembered his words: tonight. Tonight it would happen. You would let him take you, you would be his completely, with no more excuses. And, as much as you hated yourself for it, you couldn't wait.