The leather seats of Katsuki’s sports car smelled of his cologne and expensive wax. Izuku sat stiffly in the passenger seat, his school blazer buttoned tight, his pleated skirt a dark green pool over his thighs. He stared out the window at the blur of morning traffic, his fingers knotted together in his lap.

Katsuki’s eyes kept cutting away from the road. They traced the line of Izuku’s throat above his stiff collar, the way the fabric strained over the small swell of his chest, the sheer pale stockings that covered his legs. His grip tightened on the gear shift.

“You look like a fucking present today,” Katsuki said, his voice a low growl under the hum of the engine.

Izuku flinched. He didn’t turn. “It’s just my uniform, Daddy.”

“It’s a goddamn invitation.” Katsuki’s right hand left the wheel, his knuckles brushing the inside of Izuku’s knee. The touch burned through the thin nylon. “Skirt’s shorter.”

“It’s not. It’s the same.”

“Liar.” Katsuki’s hand moved higher, pushing the fabric up. His callused fingers dug into the soft skin of Izuku’s inner thigh. “You wore it like this on purpose. For me.”

Izuku’s breath hitched. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I didn’t.”

“You’re always lying to me, baby boy.” With a flick of his wrist, Katsuki undid his own belt and the button of his jeans. The zipper was a loud, deliberate sound in the closed space. He shoved the fabric down his hips. His cock, thick and heavy and already fully hard, sprang free against his stomach.

The scent of him—musky, clean, overwhelmingly male—flooded the car. Izuku whimpered.

“Look at me,” Katsuki commanded.

Izuku turned his head. His eyes went wide, his lips parting at the sight. It never got less shocking. The sheer size of him. The promise of the ache.

“Daddy needs his road head,” Katsuki said, his voice dropping to a rough, intimate rasp. His left hand still steered the car, his eyes flicking between the road and his son. His right hand fisted in Izuku’s green curls. “Get that pretty mouth on me. Now.”

He didn’t wait. He pulled. Hard.

Izuku cried out, his body yanked sideways across the center console. The seatbelt locked, digging into his chest. His face was shoved into Katsuki’s lap, his nose buried in coarse blonde hair, his mouth pressed against the hot, silken skin of his father’s shaft.

“Open up, Izu.” Katsuki’s fingers tightened, a painful, anchoring pressure. He guided the head of his cock to Izuku’s lips. “Suck.”

Tears welled in Izuku’s eyes. He opened his mouth. The blunt, broad head pushed past his lips, stretching them. The taste was salt and skin and pre-come, a flavor he knew in his nightmares and his private, shameful dreams. He took him in, inch by impossible inch, until his throat convulsed.

“That’s it,” Katsuki groaned, his hips lifting off the seat to push deeper. His hand kept Izuku’s head down, immobile. “Take all of it. Be Daddy’s good cocksleeve.”

The car swerved slightly as Katsuki’s focus shattered. Izuku choked, saliva dripping down his chin. His own body, traitorous and eager, clenched hot and empty between his legs. He sucked, his tongue moving on instinct, tracing the thick vein underneath.

Katsuki moaned, a raw, unfiltered sound. “Fuck. Just like that. Use that clever tongue.” He began to move Izuku’s head, setting a slow, deep rhythm, fucking up into the wet heat of his throat. “Your uniform’s ruined, baby. You’re gonna go to school with my taste in your mouth.”

The rhythm of Katsuki’s thrusts into his throat became a desperate, driving pulse. Izuku choked, tears streaking his cheeks, but his hips moved on their own. A soft, broken sound escaped him around the thick intrusion as he began to grind himself against the smooth black leather of the passenger seat. The friction against his clit through his panties and skirt was a bright, shocking relief.

“You feel that, baby boy?” Katsuki’s voice was ragged, his hand a vise in Izuku’s hair. He stilled Izuku’s head, holding him deep, making him feel every throbbing inch. “That’s your cunny begging for it. Grinding on the goddamn seat like a little bitch in heat.”

Izuku sobbed, humiliated, but he couldn’t stop. The rocking of his hips grew more urgent, a counter-rhythm to his father’s shallow pumps. His own wetness soaked through the fabric, a hot, slick stain.

“Look at you,” Katsuki growled, his crimson eyes burning down at the sight. “My good little cocksleeve gets off on being used. On choking.” He pulled Izuku’s head back just enough to let him gasp for air, saliva and pre-come stringing from his swollen lips. “Tell me you love it.”

“Daddy, I—” Izuku panted, his vision blurry. The head of Katsuki’s cock rested heavy on his tongue.

“Say it.”

“I love it,” Izuku whispered, the confession tearing out of him. He was aching, empty, so wet he was dizzy with it. “I love your cock, Daddy.”

Katsuki’s groan was pure victory. He shoved back in, deep, and Izuku’s body arched, a silent scream against the seatbelt. His little tits strained against his white school blouse, his nipples hard points. Katsuki’s free hand left the wheel for a second, grabbing a handful of Izuku’s thigh through his skirt, fingernails biting. “Gonna pull over. Gonna fuck that needy little pussy right in this car. Let the whole world see what you are.”

“Please,” Izuku begged, not knowing what he was asking for. Stop. More. Everything.

Katsuki didn’t pull over. His foot pressed the accelerator harder, the engine roaring as he weaved through traffic, his left hand steering with a reckless precision. His right hand worked Izuku’s head faster, his hips pistoning up. “Gonna come down your throat first. You’re gonna swallow every drop. Then I’m gonna taste how wet you made yourself for me.”

Katsuki’s hips stuttered, his grip turning brutal. “Swallow it,” he snarled, and the hot, salty flood hit the back of Izuku’s throat. Izuku gagged, convulsed, but obeyed, swallowing again and again until his throat was scraped raw and empty.

Katsuki pulled him off, his cock slipping free with a wet pop. He didn’t let go of his hair. “Clean me up, cunny boy. Lick it all.” He guided Izuku’s face down, rubbing his come-smeared lips over his heavy, drawn-up balls. “Suck.”

Izuku whimpered, his tongue moving over the sensitive skin, the musky, bitter taste overwhelming. He felt Katsuki shudder above him.

“Good boy,” Katsuki rasped, his voice shot. His eyes scanned the road, and he jerked the wheel hard. The car swerved, tires screeching as it plunged into a narrow, shadowed alley between two brick buildings. He slammed the gear into park. “Now you.”

He unbuckled Izuku’s seatbelt with a sharp click. His hands were on Izuku’s hips, yanking him across the console, twisting him until Izuku was on his back on the leather, his head against the passenger door, his skirt shoved up around his waist.

“Look at this mess,” Katsuki growled, staring at the soaked fabric of Izuku’s white panties. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and tore them down his thighs. Izuku’s pussy was exposed, swollen and glistening, his little clit a hard, aching pearl.

“Daddy, please,” Izuku sobbed, his hands fluttering near Katsuki’s shoulders.

“Please what?” Katsuki didn’t wait for an answer. He lowered his head, his breath hot against Izuku’s inner thigh. His tongue, broad and rough, licked a long, slow stripe from his entrance to his clit.

Izuku screamed. His back arched off the seat, his fingers tangling in Katsuki’s spiky hair. It was too much. The direct, claiming contact after the ache of denial.

“You taste like heaven, baby slut,” Katsuki muttered against him, his words vibrating through Izuku’s core. He settled in, his mouth sealing over Izuku’s cunt, his tongue spearing inside, then circling his clit with a relentless, practiced pressure.

Izuku was babbling, half-formed pleas and sobs. “Daddy—right there—I can’t—!”

Katsuki sucked hard, his nose buried in Izuku’s folds. He slid a hand up, palming Izuku’s small tit through his blouse, pinching the stiff nipple. The dual sensations—the bruising pull of his mouth, the sharp pinch—coiled the tension in Izuku’s belly to a breaking point.

“I’m gonna—Daddy, I’m gonna squirt!” Izuku wailed, his thighs trembling violently around Katsuki’s head.

“Do it,” Katsuki ordered, his voice muffled and dark. “Soak my fucking face.”

The orgasm ripped through Izuku, a white-hot detonation. He screamed, his hips bucking uncontrollably as he gushed, liquid heat flooding Katsuki’s mouth and chin. Katsuki drank it down, groaning, not letting up until Izuku was whimpering and oversensitive, pushing weakly at his head.

Katsuki pulled back, breathing hard. His face was wet, gleaming in the dim alley light. He looked wrecked, possessed. He stared down at Izuku, sprawled and shattered on the leather, his school uniform in ruin, his body trembling with aftershocks.

“My good boy,” Katsuki’s kiss was a deep, claiming invasion, his tongue forcing Izuku to taste the salty-sweet tang of his own spend mixed with his father’s darker flavor. He swallowed Izuku’s weak, oversensitive whimpers, his rough hands framing Izuku’s face. “My perfect boy,” he rasped against his lips, the words a hot, filthy prayer. “Made this perfect little cunny just for me, didn’t you?”

“Daddy,” Izuku choked out, his body still trembling with aftershocks.

Katsuki pulled back just enough to look at him, his crimson eyes gleaming with a possessive, dizzy heat. He trailed a callused thumb down Izuku’s stomach, over the frantic flutter of his abdomen, and slipped it between his soaked folds. Izuku jolted, a broken cry escaping him. “So wet still,” Katsuki murmured, circling his entrance with a teasing, maddening pressure. “Like you didn’t just gush all over my tongue. Greedy thing.”

“It’s—too much,” Izuku gasped, his hips twitching up into the touch even as he said it.

“It’s never enough for you,” Katsuki corrected, his voice a low growl. He pushed the tip of his thumb inside, just an inch, and Izuku’s cunt clenched around it, a slick, hot pulse. “See? Your body knows what it wants. Who it belongs to.” He added a second finger, stretching him slowly, watching Izuku’s face unravel. “This cunt was made for my cock. Born for it.”

"Your mommy," Katsuki growled, his fingers still working slowly inside Izuku's clenching heat. "I picked her for one reason. To make you. This." He thrust his fingers deeper, making Izuku cry out. "This perfect, tight little cunny was the plan from the start. You were always meant to be daddy’s little cumdump."

Izuku’s breath hitched, a fresh wave of shame and a terrible, swooning warmth flooding his chest. The words shouldn’t make his spent body stir, but it did, a weak, aching throb between his legs.

“Look at me.” Katsuki’s voice was low, command absolute. Izuku’s tear-filled green eyes dragged up to meet his father’s burning crimson gaze. “Say it. You were made for my cock.”

“I was made for your cock, Daddy,” Izuku whispered, the confession as natural as breathing now.

Katsuki’s mouth crashed down on his again, a brutal, approving kiss. He pulled his slick fingers free with a wet sound that echoed in the silent car. “Gotta get you to school, baby boy.” His tone shifted, pragmatic, as if he hadn’t just torn Izuku apart. He reached behind the driver’s seat, rummaging.

Izuku lay there, trembling, his skirt still bunched at his waist, the cold leather seeping into his bare skin. He watched, dazed, as Katsuki pulled out a clean, folded pair of white panties and a small packet of wet wipes.

“Sit up.” Katsuki didn’t ask. He nudged Izuku’s hip, then tore open the wipes. The sharp, clean scent of aloe cut through the musky air. He began wiping Izuku’s inner thighs, his touch now clinical, efficient. The cool cloth on his oversensitive skin made Izuku flinch. “Hold still.”

“They’re… they’re going to see,” Izuku choked out, staring at the red marks on his thighs, the love-bite blooming on his neck.

“Let ‘em see.” Katsuki tossed the used wipe into a grocery bag at his feet. He guided Izuku’s feet through the new panties, then slid them up his legs, his knuckles brushing the tender skin. The cotton was a strange, foreign feeling. “They’ll just think my boy’s got a girlfriend or boyfriend. Nobody gets to know the truth.” He smoothed the skirt down over Izuku’s hips, his hand lingering. “That you’re mine.”

Katsuki turned, facing the steering wheel. He adjusted himself in his pants with a grimace, his own cock still half-hard and evident. He started the engine. The roar felt like the world crashing back in.

Izuku fumbled with his seatbelt, his fingers clumsy. He stared out the window as the car reversed out of the alley. The ordinary morning light on the brick walls looked wrong. Fake.