The office door clicked shut. Katsuki didn’t look up from his playbook, the scratch of his pencil the only sound. “No practice today, nerd. Go home and change.”

Izuku didn’t move from the doorway. The locker room light silhouetted him in the short skirt and cropped top. “I know.”

Katsuki’s jaw tightened. He finally looked. The uniform was a violation. A deliberate one. “Then why the hell are you wearing that?”

“I had a study period.” Izuku’s voice was soft, too soft. He walked forward, his sneakers silent on the tile. He stopped beside the wood desk, leaning his hip against it, close enough for Katsuki to smell his shampoo and something else, something muskier. “I wanted to see you.”

“You saw me at breakfast.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Izuku’s hand went to the hem of his pleated skirt. He didn’t hesitate. He lifted it.

Katsuki’s pencil snapped. The two pieces clattered onto the playbook. Izuku was bare underneath. And he was soaked. A slick, shining wetness coated his inner thighs, gleaming in the dim office light. It traced a path down to his knees. The scent of him—sweet, salty, utterly familiar and utterly wrong—flooded the space between them.

“Daddy,” Izuku breathed, the word a desperate plea. “Please. I can’t… I can’t take it anymore. I need your cock. My pussy aches. It’s been aching since you left me on the floor.”

Katsuki’s hand shot out, tangling in those green curls. He didn’t pull gently. He yanked, dragging Izuku off balance and down. Izuku gasped, stumbling, as Katsuki shoved him under the heavy wooden desk. The space was cramped, dark, smelling of dust and old wiring.

“Earned it.” Katsuki’s voice was a low, dangerous growd from above. He leaned back in his chair, the wheels creaking. He spread his legs, planting his feet wide on either side of the desk’s knee-hole. “After your little bus ride confession. Letting some gross old fuck stare at what’s mine? Your pussy hasn’t earned dick. It’s in timeout.”

Under the desk, Izuku whimpered. His cheek was pressed against his father's warm muscled thigh. “Daddy, I’m sorry, I just—”

“Look.”

Izuku looked down. The view was framed by his father’s powerful thighs. Katsuki’s coaching pants were strained at the fly, the fabric tented obscenely by the thick, heavy outline of his cock. It was a massive, undeniable presence, the head a pronounced bulge, the shaft a long ridge against the khaki. His low-hanging balls were a shadowed weight beneath it.

“You want to make up for it?” Katsuki said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Then worship it. You don’t get to fuck. You don’t get to come. You get to use that pretty mouth and remember who you belong to. Start.”

Izuku obeyed immediately. He didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward in the dark space, his hot breath ghosting over the taut fabric of his father’s pants, and pressed his open mouth against the massive bulge.

He mouthed it, lips and tongue working over the shape through the khaki. The material was already damp with a spot of pre-come. Izuku could taste the salt, could feel the iron-hard heat of him underneath. He nuzzled, worshipful, his nose brushing the coarse hair of his father’s lower belly.

“Good boy,” Katsuki growled from above, the words vibrating through his body and into Izuku’s cheek. “But the fabric isn’t what I want worshiped. Get it out.”

Izuku’s hands trembled as they went to the button and zipper. The metal was hot. He fumbled, his fingers slick with his own nervous sweat, until the fly gave way. The coaching pants and the boxers beneath were pushed down just enough. His father’s cock sprang free, heavy and thick, slapping against Izuku’s face.

It was immense. Uncut, the dark red head peeking from its hood, already glistening. The shaft was a thick column of veined flesh, the smell of pure musk and male sweat overpowering in the confined space. Izuku whimpered, a sound of pure want.

“Look at it,” Katsuki commanded, his voice a low rumble. He took himself in hand, giving his cock a slow, possessive stroke that made Izuku’s mouth water. “This is what you disrespected. This is what you have to apologize to. Now open up.”

Izuku did. He tilted his head, green curls brushing his father’s thighs, and opened his mouth. He didn’t wait to be forced. He leaned forward and took the head inside, his lips stretching painfully around the girth.

“Fuck,” Katsuki hissed, his hips jerking minutely. His hand left his cock to sink into Izuku’s hair, not guiding, just holding. Possessing. “That’s it. Take it. Get it wet for me.”

Izuku worked his tongue, laving the sensitive head, tracing the slit where more pre-come beaded. He sucked gently, his jaw already aching. He could only manage the first few inches, the sheer size of him making his eyes water. Saliva dripped down his chin, mixing with the pre-come, making obscene, wet sounds in the quiet office.

“You like that?” Katsuki asked, his tone deceptively calm. He shifted in his chair, pushing his cock a fraction deeper. Izuku gagged, tears springing to his eyes. “You like the taste of your daddy’s dick after you’ve been a bad boy?”

Izuku couldn’t speak. He moaned around the intrusion, the vibration earning a low groan from above. His own pussy was dripping, a fresh wave of slickness coating his inner thighs, the empty ache between them a constant, throbbing pulse.

“That’s your purpose right now,” Katsuki said, his fingers tightening in Izuku’s hair. “Your mouth is a hole for my cock. Your pretty pussy stays empty. It stays hungry. You understand?”

“You understand?” Katsuki repeated, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper.

Izuku moaned around the cock filling his mouth, a wet, affirmative sound.

“Good.” Katsuki’s hand fisted in his hair, holding him still. Then he shoved down.

It wasn’t gentle. It was a brutal, unforgiving push that forced the thick head deeper, past the point of resistance. Izuku choked, a ragged gag tearing from his throat, his body jerking. Tears instantly flooded his eyes, blurring the dark fabric of his father’s pants.

“Disgraceful,” Katsuki growled, not easing up. He kept the pressure steady, forcing his son’s head down until his nose was buried in coarse pubic hair. Izuku’s throat convulsed wildly around the invasion. “You let some stranger’s eyes on this?” He pulled back an inch, only to slam forward again, a short, brutal thrust. “This is the dick that made you. My seed created that pretty little body you’re so desperate to show off. And you disrespected it.”

Izuku gagged again, drool and pre-come slicking his chin. His hands came up, not to push away, but to clutch weakly at his father’s muscular thighs.

“You gonna make it up to me?” Katsuki didn’t wait for an answer. He set a punishing rhythm, fucking up into the tight, choking heat of his son’s throat. Each thrust was a hard, shallow punch that stole Izuku’s air. The wet, messy sounds of gagging and slapping flesh filled the office. “You’re gonna swallow every inch. You’re gonna choke on it until you remember it’s yours to worship.”

Tears streamed down Izuku’s freckled cheeks. His jaw screamed in protest, stretched impossibly wide. Every instinct fought for air, but his body, slick and trembling under the desk, arched toward the violation. A fresh gush of wetness soaked his inner thighs, the empty ache between them a sharp counterpoint to the fullness in his throat.

“Look at you,” Katsuki panted, his own control fraying as he watched his massive cock disappear between those stretched, spit-slick lips. “My good little cocksucker. Made for this. Your only purpose right now is taking your daddy’s dick. You feel that? You feel how deep it goes?”

Izuku’s answer was a gurgled moan, his throat fluttering desperately around the shaft. His eyes rolled back, overwhelmed.

Katsuki slowed, not out of mercy, but to savor the ruin. He held himself deep, grinding against the back of Izuku’s throat. He could feel the frantic pulse there, the struggle for breath. “Breathe through your nose,” he commanded, his voice thick with lust. “You don’t get air until I say you do.”

Under the desk, Izuku’s chest hitched. He forced a shaky, whistling inhale through his nostrils, his whole body trembling with the effort to obey.

“Better.” Katsuki pulled out until just the head rested on his son’s tongue. Izuku gasped, dragging in a ragged breath, saliva stringing from his lips to the leaking tip.

“On the desk. Now.” Katsuki’s voice was rough, his breath coming hard. He pulled his slick cock from Izuku’s mouth with a wet pop and stood, the chair scraping back. He didn’t help him up. “On your back. Head hanging off the edge. I want that throat open.”

Izuku scrambled out from under the desk, his movements clumsy, his knees weak. He hoisted himself onto the cold, the wooden edge biting into his thighs as he laid back. He shimmied until his head tipped back over the side, the world inverting. The ceiling tiles swam above him, dusty and distant. He opened his mouth, his throat a vulnerable, waiting channel.

Katsuki loomed over him, a massive silhouette blocking the light. He fisted his cock, stroking it once, slick with his son’s spit. “Wider.”

Izuku obeyed, stretching his jaw until it ached, a soft whine escaping him.

Katsuki stepped forward, aligned the fat, leaking head with that open mouth, and pushed in. There was no slow start this time. He fed his cock into the offered throat in one continuous, ruthless slide. Izuku’s body jerked, a choked gag reverberating through his chest.

“There,” Katsuki growled, his hips flush against Izuku’s face. He looked down, watching the thick outline of his own dick distort the slender column of his son’s neck. A visible bulge moved under the pale, freckled skin with each pulse. “Look at that. You see what you do to me? You see where you belong?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He drew back and slammed home again. The force lifted Izuku’s shoulders off the desk. Katsuki set a brutal, pounding rhythm, fucking into that tight, wet heat with a single-minded intensity. The sound was obscene: wet, slapping impacts, ragged, choked-off gags, Katsuki’s own guttural grunts.

“Fuck, your throat,” Katsuki panted, his hands coming down to bracket Izuku’s head, trapping him. He watched, mesmerized, as his cock pistoned in and out, as Izuku’s throat stretched and fluttered around him. “Takes it so good. Made for this. My perfect little cocksleeve.”

Izuku’s hands flailed, then found his father’s powerful forearms, holding on like lifelines. Tears streamed from the corners of his inverted eyes, dripping into his hairline. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel the overwhelming fullness, the scrape of coarse hair against his nose, the salt-bitter taste flooding his senses.

Katsuki leaned over him, his own breathing harsh. He pressed a thumb against the bulge in Izuku’s throat, feeling himself move inside. The sensation—the heat, the constriction, the proof of his possession—drove a spike of white-hot lust straight to his core. “Feel that, nerd? That’s me. You’re swallowing me alive.”

He fucked harder, deeper, each thrust a claim. The desk creaked in protest. Pre-come and saliva dripped from Izuku’s stretched lips, coating his chin, his neck, pooling on the floor below his hanging head. Katsuki was lost in it, in the animal rhythm, in the sight of his son completely used, completely his.

“Gonna come,” he gritted out, the warning a raw scrape in his throat. But he didn’t want it to end. He forced himself to slow, to pull back until just the tip rested on Izuku’s tongue. Izuku gasped, a wet, shuddering inhale. “No. Not yet. You don’t get to finish me that easy.”

He shoved back in, deep, and held there, grinding, fighting his own climax. His knuckles were white where he gripped the desk. “You’re gonna take it until I say. You’re gonna choke on it until I’m done.”

“You hear me?” Katsuki snarled, his hips resuming their brutal, shallow pistoning. The need had receded from a sharp peak to a deep, rolling tide, giving him a second wind of pure, vicious control. “You’re a desperate, pathetic slut. My slut. Made to choke on my cock.”

He fucked into Izuku’s throat with renewed force, his wet, heavy balls slapping against his son’s nose and forehead with each drive forward. The sound was a wet, rhythmic smack of skin on skin.

“I watched you for years,” Katsuki panted, the words tumbling out in a raw, unfiltered stream. “Your skinny little thighs in those shorts. The way your shirt would ride up. I’d lie awake and imagine bending you over the kitchen counter. Fucking you raw until you screamed.”

Izuku gurgled beneath him, his throat fluttering wildly around the invading thickness. Tears and saliva coated his inverted face.

“I wanted to ruin you,” Katsuki admitted, his voice a gravelly confession. “To see these pretty green eyes cry while I split you open. To make you call me Daddy while my cock was buried in your pussy and ass. You have no idea how fucking sick I am for you.”

He leaned over, gripping the desk, and drove even deeper. The desk legs scraped against the floor. “You were made from my come, and now you’re gonna swallow it. You’re gonna taste what made you.”

The filthy, relentless rant poured out of him as he used Izuku’s throat, each thrust punctuating a new degradation. “My perfect little cunt. My secret. Gonna keep you under this desk forever. Gonna fuck this throat every day until you forget how to breathe without my dick in it.”

Izuku’s hands tightened on his father’s forearms, his knuckles white. A high, desperate whine vibrated around the cock stuffing him.

“Yeah, you like that,” Katsuki groaned, feeling his release coil tight and inevitable at the base of his spine. “You love being my dirty little secret. You love being used.”

The babbling didn’t stop until his rhythm faltered, turning jerky and desperate. “Fuck—gonna come. Swallow it. You swallow every drop, you hear me?”

A raw, guttural shout tore from Katsuki’s chest as he slammed home and held, his body bowing over Izuku. Pulse after thick, hot pulse of come erupted down his son’s throat, flooding it. He shuddered violently, his grip on the desk near-splintering, as the most powerful orgasm of his life racked him.

Izuku convulsed beneath him, his own body seizing as he was forced to swallow, the bitter-salt taste flooding his senses. Then, with a sharp, choked cry that was muffled by his father’s flesh, his untouched pussy clenched and erupted. A fountain of clear fluid shot from him, soaking his skirt, the front of the desk, and the chair legs, pattering onto the floor in a sudden, shocking cascade.

Katsuki slowly pulled his spent, softening cock from Izuku’s ruined mouth with a wet sound. He looked down, panting, at the mess. Come and drool dripped from Izuku’s swollen lips. The front of the desk and the floor beneath the chair were glistening with Izuku’s release. A dark, satisfied smirk touched his lips.

“Look at that,” he said, his voice hoarse. He tapped his slick cock against Izuku’s flushed cheek. “You just can’t help it, can you? Even when your pussy doesn’t get dick, it cries for it. Disgusting.”

Izuku gasped for air, his chest heaving, his body trembling from the twin overloads. He didn’t move from his vulnerable position, head still hanging off the desk.

Katsuki tucked himself back into his pants, not bothering to clean up. He stared at the drenched fabric of Izuku’s skirt. “It still hasn’t earned dick,” he stated coldly, the possessive awe in his eyes belying his harsh tone. “Clean this desk. Then get the hell out of my office.”