The silence between them in the dark office was a live wire. Katsuki’s breath, still ragged from their kiss, fanned over Izuku’s lips. His forehead was a solid, warm weight against Izuku’s. The acknowledgment of trouble hung in the air, and then it shattered.
Katsuki’s hands moved from Izuku’s jaw to his shoulders, grip iron-tight. He didn’t push. He propelled. Izuku’s back hit the polished mahogany desk, a shock of cool, hard wood against his spine. Files scattered, a pen clattering to the floor.
“You wanted to be on my desk, right?” Katsuki growled, his voice a low vibration in the dim space. He loomed over Izuku, his crimson eyes gleaming with a predatory light. “This what you imagined when you put on that little outfit?”
Izuku’s heart hammered against his ribs. The city lights painted Katsuki’s sharp features in stark relief. “Yes,” Izuku breathed, the word barely audible. His own hands came up, not to push away, but to clutch at the taut fabric of Katsuki’s dress shirt. “Exactly this.”
Katsuki’s gaze raked down Izuku’s body, pausing at the hem of the skirt that had ridden up his thick thighs. “Lace,” he stated, his tone dismissive. A broad, calloused hand slid up Izuku’s inner thigh, the touch branding him. His thumb found the edge of the delicate fabric. “Pretty. Useless.”
He didn’t peel it down. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and, with a single, brutal twist of his wrist, ripped. The sound was obscenely loud—a sharp tear of silk and lace giving way. Cool office air hit Izuku’s exposed cunt, making him jolt. The ruined fabric dangled from Katsuki’s fist for a second before he tossed it aside.
“Fuck,” Izuku gasped, his hips lifting off the desk involuntarily. The violence of it, the sheer possession in the act, sent a flood of wet heat between his legs. He was exposed, completely, on this powerful man’s desk.
Katsuki’s eyes were fixed there. “Look at that,” he murmured, more to himself. He traced a single, rough fingertip through the slickness, gathering it. He brought his finger to his mouth, never breaking eye contact, and sucked it clean. A low, approving hum rattled in his chest. “You’re fucking dripping.”
His free hand swept across the desk, finding the discarded lollipop. He held the sticky, red sphere between them. “You made a mess with this earlier.” He dragged the cool, sugar-coated side of it down Izuku’s sternum, over the swell of his stomach, leaving a faint, tacky trail. “Let’s see what else it’s good for.”
The rounded tip of the candy pressed against Izuku’s clit. Not hard. A teasing, icy point of contact that made his whole body tense. A choked whimper escaped him.
He began to circle the lollipop, a slow, torturous orbit around the aching nerve. The sugar gritted slightly against his oversensitive skin, a sweet, rough friction that had Izuku biting his own lip. His knuckles were white where he gripped Katsuki’s shirt.
“You gonna be good?” Katsuki asked, pausing the motion. He was watching Izuku’s face, cataloging every flutter of his eyelashes, every hitched breath.
Izuku could only nod, frantic.
“Didn’t hear you.”
“Yes,” Izuku whispered, voice strained. “I’ll be good.”
Katsuki’s mouth quirked. He angled the stick. The cool, smooth curve of the candy parted his slick folds and pressed, insistently, at his entrance. It was a foreign pressure, too small but impossibly intimate. Izuku’s back arched, a silent plea.
“This what you wanted?” Katsuki breathed, leaning over him, his sandalwood and ozone scent enveloping Izuku. He pushed the lollipop in, just the rounded head, a shallow, teasing invasion. The sugar dissolved instantly against his heated flesh, a faint, sweet sting. “A married man fucking his babysitter’s cunt with candy?”
He withdrew it, glistening and wet, and pushed it back in. A little deeper. The stick was firm in Katsuki’s steady grip. The rhythm started, slow and filthy—a shallow, slick fuck with the improvised toy. The wet sound of it filled the space between their ragged breathing. Each push dragged against his inner walls, a maddening simulation. Izuku’s thighs trembled, his pussy clenching around nothing, desperate for more.
“Kacchan,” he begged, the name a broken thing.
“What?” Katsuki’s own control was fraying; Izuku could see the corded tension in his neck, the way his free hand was bracedvon the desk, knuckles white. He fucked the candy into him again, a fraction harder.
Katsuki’s grip tightened on the lollipop stick. He drove it in deep, a single, merciless thrust that buried the rounded candy completely inside Izuku’s cunt.
Izuku cried out, a sharp, shattered sound. His back bowed off the desk, his hands flying from Katsuki’s shirt to claw at the polished wood. The stretch was sudden, filling, the sugar melting more against his inner walls in a wet, sugary burn.
“There,” Katsuki gritted out, his own breath hot and ragged. He held it there, buried to the stick, letting Izuku feel every millimeter. “That what you were begging for?”
“Yes—god, yes, Kacchan, please—” Izuku babbled, his hips rocking helplessly against the intrusion. He was so full, so slick, the wet, sucking sounds obscene in the quiet office.
Katsuki began to move it. Not the shallow teasing from before. Deep, pulling strokes that dragged the soaked candy all the way out to the tip before plunging it back in. The rhythm was relentless, a filthy, sweet fucking. Izuku could feel the stick flex slightly with each thrust.
“You take it so good,” Katsuki murmured, his crimson eyes locked on where the candy disappeared into Izuku’s body. “This tight, pretty cunt swallowing a fucking lollipop. You’re drenching it.”
Izuku’s hips bucked desperately off the desk, fucking himself onto the fat, sticky candy. The cherry lollipop was a glossy, sugary mess, pink glitter melting into the slickness that poured from him, making his cunt look like a frosted, glistening piece of cake.
“Look at that,” Katsuki growled, his voice thick. He slowed his thrusts, turning the sticky stick so the light caught the shimmer. “Your pretty little pussy’s turned into a fucking dessert.”
“It’s—it’s too much,” Izuku choked out, but his body arched for more, his thighs shaking. Every drag of the candy inside him sent a sharp, sweet burn through his nerves.
“It’s exactly enough.” Katsuki fucked it back into him, deep, the wet, sucking sound obscenely loud. He leaned down, his breath hot on Izuku’s throat. “You taste like candy and come. You know that?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled the lollipop all the way out, dripping, and brought it to his own mouth. His tongue swiped over the soaked, glittering sphere, his crimson eyes locked on Izuku’s. A low, approving hum vibrated in his chest. “Fuck. Even better than I imagined.”
“Kacchan, please,” Izuku begged, his hands scrabbling at the empty air. The loss of the fullness was a physical ache. “Don’t stop.”
“Don’t stop?” Katsuki repeated, the words a dark chuckle. He brought the glistening candy back down, not to Izuku’s entrance, but higher. He tapped the hard, sticky sphere against Izuku’s swollen clit. Once. Twice. A sharp, sweet slap that made Izuku jolt and cry out.
“You’re still begging,” Katsuki observed, his voice rough. “Greedy slutty cunt.”
“I can’t— it’s too sensitive,” Izuku gasped, his thighs trying to clamp shut on instinct, but Katsuki’s body between them held him open.
“Too bad.” Katsuki shoved the lollipop back into his cunt, a single, brutal thrust that buried it to the stick. The wet, yielding heat of Izuku’s body accepted it with a lewd, sucking sound. Katsuki fucked it into him harder, deeper, the rhythm punishing. The stick was slick, his grip firm. Each drive forced a choked gasp from Izuku’s throat.
“You feel that?” Katsuki growled, leaning over him, his shadow swallowing Izuku whole. “That’s what you asked for. A married man wrecking you with a piece of candy.”
Izuku could only nod, his head thrashing back against the desk. He felt split open, stuffed full, the melting sugar a fiery contrast to the cool air on his sweat-slick skin. His hands found Katsuki’s forearms, clinging to the solid muscle there.
“Look at me.” The command was a crack in the room’s tension.
Izuku’s green eyes, glazed and desperate, snapped up to meet Katsuki’s crimson gaze. The connection was a live wire. Katsuki didn’t smile. His expression was one of fierce, almost clinical concentration as he pistoned the candy in and out, the pace unrelenting.
“You gonna cum?” Katsuki asked, his breath hot. “On this piece of fucking candy? Like a cheap slut?”
“Yes,” Izuku sobbed, the truth torn from him. His hips lifted, meeting each thrust, his body overriding every shred of shame. “Kacchan, please, let me—”
“Then cum, you whore.” It wasn’t permission. It was an order. Katsuki angled the stick, grinding the rounded end hard against a spot inside that made Izuku see white. His rhythm turned ruthless, a focused, brutal fucking designed to destroy.
The orgasm hit Izuku like a seizure, a white-hot detonation that arched his spine off the desk. A guttural scream ripped from his throat, raw and shattered, as his cunt convulsed, clamping hard around the buried lollipop. Then came the flood—a hot, violent rush of fluid that erupted from him, soaking the candy, the stick, Katsuki’s hand, and splattering in a glossy arc across the front of the man’s tailored slacks.
Katsuki froze, his relentless rhythm stuttering to a halt. His crimson eyes widened, fixated on the slick, transparent stream jetting from Izuku’s clenched hole, mixing with the melted sugar to soak the dark fabric covering his own cock. “Fuck,” he breathed, the word full of awe. His pants were plastered to his thigh, a warm, wet patch spreading right over his aching erection.
He yanked the lollipop out. It came free with a wet, sucking pop, trailing strings of Izuku’s spend. Izuku sobbed, his body still jerking with aftershocks, his cunt pulsing open and empty around nothing. Katsuki didn’t give him a second to recover. He brought the dripping candy down hard, flicking the sticky, firm sphere against Izuku’s swollen, oversensitive clit.
“Ah! Kacchan, no—too much!” Izuku shrieked, his hips trying to twist away, but Katsuki’s other hand planted firmly on his abdomen, holding him down.
“Look at it,” Katsuki commanded, his voice a husky growl. He did it again, a sharp, precise rub of the candy over the throbbing nub. Another surge of fluid leaked from Izuku, a weaker but still undeniable gush. “You’re still going. Like a fucking fountain.”
He kept at it, a ruthless, focused torture. Flick. Rub. Circle. The hard sugar dragged against his sensitized flesh, each contact sparking a sharp, electric jolt that forced another helpless spurt from Izuku’s exhausted body. The desk beneath them was a soaked, sticky mess.
“Minutes,” Katsuki muttered, more to himself than to Izuku, his gaze ravenous. He watched the translucent fluid bead and drip from Izuku’s folds, down onto the ruined wood. “You’ve been squirting for minutes.”
“I can’t… it’s empty, I’m empty,” Izuku wept, his hands limp at his sides, his chest heaving. But his body betrayed him, clenching weakly around another tiny release at the next firm press of the candy.
Katsuki finally stilled his hand, the lollipop resting heavily on Izuku’s pubic bone. He was breathing hard, his own arousal a palpable, thick heat in the room. His soaked slacks clung to him, outlining the brutal, thick line of his cock. “Empty?” he said, a dark, incredulous laugh leaving him. “You just painted my fucking office, brat.”
He lifted the candy, examining the mess. It was barely recognizable, coated in a shimmering, slick glaze. Slowly, deliberately, he brought it to his mouth and sucked it clean, his eyes locked on Izuku’s wrecked expression. A low, satisfied groan rumbled in his chest. “Tastes like victory.”
Katsuki pulled the glistening lollipop from his mouth with a soft pop. He held it before Izuku’s swollen lips. “Open.”
Izuku, still shuddering, obeyed. The candy slid onto his tongue, the taste exploding—cherry sugar and the thick, unmistakable musk of his own cunt. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut.
“That’s right,” Katsuki growled, watching him suck it clean. “Taste what you did. How fucking hot that was.” He braced his hands on the desk, caging Izuku in. “My wife has never squirted. Ten years. Never once. Not a drop.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a vicious, awed whisper. “And you? Some slutty high school senior? You painted my office with it over a piece of fucking candy.”
Izuku whined around the stick, his cheeks flushing darker. The humiliation was a live wire, straight to his core.
Katsuki’s gaze dropped between Izuku’s spread thighs. His pink, frosted cunt was still glistening, pulsing weakly, a mess of glitter and spend. “Look at you,” he breathed, the command rough. “Just look.”
He didn’t wait for Izuku to look. He pushed off the desk and dropped to his knees on the soaked rug.
Izuku’s breath hitched. “Kacchan—?”
The first lick was a broad, slow stripe from his perineum all the way up to his clit. Katsuki’s tongue was flat and hot, ruthless in its thoroughness.
A guttural moan tore from Katsuki’s throat, vibrating against Izuku’s sensitive flesh. He pulled back, his crimson eyes blazing up at Izuku. “Fuck,” he rasped, his voice wrecked. “Fuck, Izuku.”
He dove back in, his mouth sealing over Izuku’s entire cunt. This wasn’t teasing. This was consumption. He licked into him, lapping up the sweet, salty mess, sucking at his swollen lips, chasing every drop.
“The best,” Katsuki muttered against his skin, his words muffled and wet. “The best goddamn thing I’ve ever tasted.” He flicked his tongue over Izuku’s throbbing clit, making his whole body jolt. “Cherry candy flavored high school pussy.”
Izuku’s hands flew to Katsuki’s hair, tangling in the spiky blond strands. He couldn’t form words, only sharp, punched-out gasps as Katsuki ate him like a man starving. The overstimulation was agony and ecstasy, a sharp, bright fire he never wanted to end.
Katsuki groaned, the sound of pure, deep pleasure.
Katsuki stood, his knees cracking, and his damp slacks clung obscenely to his thick thighs. He plucked the lollipop from Izuku’s slack mouth with a wet sound. The stick was clean, polished by Izuku’s tongue.
“Turn over,” Katsuki said, his voice rough from use.
Izuku, limbs trembling, managed to roll onto his stomach on the soaked desk. His ass was raised, his freckled cheeks still glistening. Katsuki’s broad hand came down not in a spank, but to spread him, his thumb pressing against his perineum. “This is your bonus, brat.”
“Wha—” Izuku’s question died as he felt the cold, hard sphere of the candy press against his other hole. It was still slick from his mouth. He tensed. “Kacchan, no, that’s—!”
“It’s what I say it is.” Katsuki’s voice left no room. He pushed, his thumb working in tandem with the candy, a ruthless, steady pressure. The rounded tip breached him, a shocking, full stretch. Izuku cried out, his fingers scrabbling against the wood. “Take it. For the train ride home.”
He worked it in, slow and deliberate, until the red sphere disappeared and only the white stick protruded, a blatant, humiliating flag. Izuku shuddered, feeling impossibly stuffed, the foreign object a stark claim in a place no one had ever touched.
Katsuki smoothed a hand over the trembling curve of Izuku’s ass. “Congratulations on the new job.” The words were a low growl. Then his hand cracked down—a sharp, stinging slap that echoed in the office and made Izuku jolt forward, a choked gasp tearing from him. The impact sent a bolt of heat straight to his already oversensitive cunt.
Katsuki’s hand remained a brand on Izuku’s stinging cheek. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Izuku’s ear. “Get up.”
Izuku pushed himself up on trembling arms, the movement making him acutely aware of the lollipop stick protruding from between his cheeks. He slid off the desk, his bare feet landing in the cooling wet spot on the rug. The ruined lace of his panties lay in a sad, torn heap by the desk leg. He was completely exposed, dripping, and stuffed.
Katsuki stepped back, his gaze a physical weight as it traveled from Izuku’s flushed face down his shuddering body. He’d finally undone his belt and fly. His slacks were pushed down just enough to free his cock, which sprang out thick and heavy, curving up against his abdomen. It was obscenely large, the head dark and leaking, his low-hanging balls drawn tight.
“Look at it,” Katsuki said, his voice rough. He wrapped a fist around the base, giving himself a slow, deliberate stroke. A bead of pre-cum welled and dripped. “This is what you wanted. Since you walked in here with your little strip-tease act.”
Izuku’s mouth went dry. He nodded, unable to form words. His own cunt gave a helpless, aching clench around nothing.
“Use your words, brat.”
“Yes,” Izuku whispered, then louder. “Yes. I wanted it. I want it.”
“You want this married cock?” Katsuki took a step closer, the heat of him radiating against Izuku’s skin. He tapped the broad head against Izuku’s lower belly, leaving a wet smear. “This cock that belongs to my wife?”
Izuku flinched, but his hips tilted forward, seeking. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I want your married cock, Kacchan.” The words were ash and fire in his mouth.
Katsuki gave him a wicked smirk, his fist still moving slowly on his cock. “Maybe you’ll get it another time.” With a final, rough stroke, he tucked his thick length back into his slacks, the damp head leaving a dark spot on the fine fabric as he zipped up. “Go home, brat.”
Izuku stared, disbelief and raw need warring on his flushed face. “You’re… you’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Katsuki’s voice was flat, final. He fastened his belt with a sharp click. The office air felt suddenly cold on Izuku’s wet skin. “You got your first taste. You came all over my rug. You’ve got candy shoved up your ass. That’s your signing bonus.”
“But you’re hard,” Izuku protested, his voice cracking. He gestured weakly at Katsuki’s crotch, where the formidable outline was still clearly visible. “I can… I can take it. Please.”
Katsuki stepped into his space, crowding him. He didn’t touch. His gaze was like a physical brand. “You’ll take what I give you. When I give it to you.” He leaned down, his breath hot against Izuku’s ear. “And right now, I’m giving you a train ride home with that stick keeping you open. Think about why it’s there. Think about who put it there.”
Izuku shuddered, a full-body tremor that started deep in his stuffed core. The humiliation was a sweet, sickening curl in his gut. He was dripping, empty where he ached to be full, marked in a way no one would see but he’d feel every second.
Katsuki turned his back, motioning Izuku to make his exit. Leaving the high schooler only wanting so much more.