The car door opens to a gust of night air, cold enough to raise goosebumps on Izuku’s silk-covered arms. Katsuki’s hand finds the small of his back, a brand of heat through the fabric, steering him toward the hotel’s glittering entrance. The Grand Imperial. Izuku’s mind stutters on the name, on the sheer marble and gold-leaf expanse of the lobby. It smells like money here. Cold. Sterile. A place for transactions. His stomach flips, a thrill of wrongness that shoots straight to his already-damp pussy.
“You’re quiet,” Katsuki murmurs, his voice a low vibration against Izuku’s ear as they cross the vast, echoing floor. His grip tightens, possessive.
“I’m just… looking.” Izuku’s voice comes out soft, awed. His heels click a frantic rhythm on the polished stone. He feels every eye, real or imagined. They see a teenager in a scandalously short silk dress, led by a man in a suit that costs more than Izuku’s rent for a year. They see the choker around his neck, a gleaming emerald claim. Let them see. The thought is reckless, liquid heat pooling between his thighs. He wants them to know.
Katsuki doesn’t stop at the front desk. He guides them toward a bank of elevators lined with dark, reflective metal. His thumb strokes a slow circle on Izuku’s spine. “Good. Look your fill. This is for you.”
The elevator doors slide open to an empty, mirrored cube. They step inside. The world shrinks to this. The hum of machinery. Their eyes reflections, fractured and multiplied. Katsuki hits the button for the penthouse, then turns, leaning against the railing, his crimson eyes heavy-lidded and fixed on Izuku. The doors whisper shut. Silence. The numbers begin to climb. Two. Three.
Izuku’s heart is a trapped bird. The air is too thin. Katsuki just watches him, a lazy, predatory stillness. He’s waiting. The unspoken command hangs between them: *Show me.* Izuku’s fingers find the hem of the green silk. It’s cool, slippery. He gathers it slowly, watching Katsuki’s face in the mirror. He doesn’t look away. Four. Five.
The silk rises over his thighs, the stockings, the lace tops. The chilled air kisses his bare skin. He lifts it higher, to his waist, and holds it there. Exposed. His pussy is bare, hairless, already glistening under the elevator’s harsh light. A thin, shining strand of his own wetness connects his inner lips. He’s dripping. He can smell himself, musk cutting through the elevator’s sterile scent.
Katsuki’s breath hitches, a sharp intake. His gaze drops, devouring. “Fuck,” he growls, the word ragged. “Look at that.”
“I’ve been thinking about you all through dinner,” Izuku whispers, his own voice foreign to him, thick with need. “About your mouth.”
“Yeah?” Katsuki pushes off the railing. He closes the small distance, his shoes brushing Izuku’s heels. He doesn’t touch him yet. He just looks, his eyes burning. “That pussy’s been weeping for me since I fed you that first bite of cake, hasn’t it?”
Izuku nods, a frantic little jerk of his head. The elevator passes the tenth floor. A soft chime. “Yes. Daddy.”
Katsuki’s control snaps. A raw, hungry sound tears from his throat. He goes down, his knees hitting the plush elevator carpet with a solid thud. His broad hands slide up Izuku’s trembling thighs, pushing them wider. “Sweeter than any fucking dessert,” he rasps, and then his mouth is on him.
It’s not a kiss. It’s consumption. A hot, wet, open-mouthed lash of his tongue that spears directly into Izuku’s soaked entrance. Izuku cries out, a sharp, unfiltered sound that echoes in the small space. His head thunks back against the mirror, the cool glass a shock. “Oh god—Katsuki—”
“That’s Daddy to you,” Katsuki corrects, his voice muffled against his flesh, before diving back in. He licks a broad, flat stripe, gathering the wetness, then sucks his swollen clit into his mouth. The pressure is perfect, devastating. Izuku’s hips jerk forward, seeking more, his fingers tangling in Katsuki’s spiked hair. He’s not holding back. He can’t. The elevator climbs, and he moans, loud and shameless, each flick of Katsuki’s tongue pulling another broken sound from his chest. “Right there, yes, please, Daddy, just like that—”
Katsuki moans against him, the vibration traveling straight to Izuku’s core. He pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with Izuku’s wetness. “Fuck, baby. So fucking sweet.” His voice is a ragged, hungry thing. “Better than the wine. Better than the goddamn chocolate torte.” He dives back in, licking deep, sucking at his entrance like he’s starving. “Nothing on that menu tastes like this. Nothing.”
Izuku sobs, his fingers tightening in Katsuki’s hair. The praise is a live wire in his veins, shocking and igniting. He’s never been told he tasted good, never had someone worship him like this. “Daddy—”
“You hear me?” Katsuki growls, nipping at his inner thigh before sealing his mouth over Izuku’s clit again, sucking hard. “This is the only dessert I want. This dripping, teenage cunt.”
The words are filthy, absolute. Izuku’s hips roll, grinding against Katsuki’s face, chasing the relentless pressure of his tongue. He’s babbling, the thoughts in his head spilling out unfiltered. “Thank you—oh god, thank you, Daddy, it feels so good, you’re so good to me—”
“Mine,” Katsuki snarls, his hands clamping on Izuku’s ass, holding him still so he can devour him properly. The elevator chimes softly, passing another floor. Katsuki doesn’t even look. His world has shrunk to the heat and taste between Izuku’s legs. He laps at him, slow and thorough, then fucks him with his tongue, deep and claiming.
Izuku’s head spins. The mirrors show him a fractured, wanton stranger: dress bunched at his waist, back arched, mouth open in a silent scream that becomes a broken moan. He’s never been this loud, this shameless. The fear of being heard is gone, burned away by the searing pleasure. “I love it,” he gasps, the confession torn from him. “I love your mouth on me, Daddy, I love it so much—”
“Yeah?” Katsuki pulls back, breathing harshly, his own composure shattered. His lips are slick, his chin wet. His crimson eyes are black with want. “You love your Daddy eating this pretty pussy?”
“Yes!” Izuku cries, the word echoing. He looks down, meets that fierce gaze. “It’s all I want right now.”
Katsuki’s expression shifts, something terrifyingly tender flashing through the hunger. He leans in, presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to Izuku’s swollen flesh, then rests his forehead against his trembling stomach. His breath is hot on his skin. “You ruin me,” he murmurs, the words so low Izuku feels them more than hears them. “You fucking ruin me, Izuku.”
Then he’s back on him, with a desperate, focused intensity. His tongue finds a rhythm, circling his clit, flicking fast, then sucking it deep. He’s mapping him, learning what makes Izuku’s thighs shake, what makes his toes curl inside his heels. Izuku is a live wire, every nerve ending screaming. The orgasm builds, a terrifying wave cresting deep in his belly. The elevator slows. A final chime. The doors don’t open yet.
“I’m gonna—Daddy, I’m gonna cum—” Izuku warns, his voice high and thin.
Katsuki sucks harder, his mouth a searing, wet seal around Izuku's clit, and the wave crests and shatters. The elevator doors slide open with a soft, polite sigh just as Izuku's back arches off the mirror, a broken scream tearing from his throat. He comes, a convulsive, blinding rush, and he feels it—the hot, sudden gush of fluid soaking Katsuki’s chin, his mouth, dripping down his throat. Izuku squirts, the release violent and soaking, painting Katsuki’s face with the proof of his ruin. His thighs clamp around Katsuki’s head, trembling violently, as the last of the pulses wrack him.
“Fuck,” Katsuki groans against him, the sound vibrating through Izuku’s oversensitive flesh. He doesn’t pull away. He drinks it, his tongue lapping through the aftershocks, swallowing every drop as Izuku slumps boneless against the glass, panting.
Izuku’s vision swims. The open elevator doors frame the dim, opulent hallway of the penthouse floor. Empty. Silent. The threat of exposure is a distant, meaningless concept. All that exists is the throbbing between his legs and the man kneeling in the mess he made, still nuzzling into his wet heat. “Daddy,” he whimpers, the word a spent breath.
Katsuki’s mouth leaves a final, searing kiss against Izuku’s trembling inner thigh before he surges to his feet. He doesn’t ask. His hands slide under Izuku’s ass and knees, and he lifts him from the mirror in one smooth, powerful motion. Izuku gasps, his arms looping instinctively around Katsuki’s neck, his dress still bunched at his waist, his soaked pussy pressed against the expensive wool of Katsuki’s suit jacket. “Daddy—”
Katsuki captures the word with his mouth, kissing him deep and filthy as he strides from the elevator into the hushed, carpeted hallway. Izuku tastes himself on Katsuki’s tongue—salt, musk, the proof of his own ruin. It’s obscene. It’s everything. Katsuki’s kiss is a claiming, a continuation, his tongue mapping the interior of Izuku’s mouth with the same possessive hunger he’d just lavished between his legs.
He carries him down the hall, their breath mingling in hot, ragged bursts. Izuku clings to him, his body boneless and pliant, his mind a hazy static of *yes, yes, yes*. Katsuki shoulders open a heavy, ornate door without breaking the kiss, and they’re inside. The suite is vast, dark, dominated by a massive bed and the city’s glittering grid beyond the windows. Katsuki kicks the door shut, the slam echoing.
He finally breaks the kiss, his chest heaving. “Clothes,” he growls, the word a command. He sets Izuku on his feet, but his hands are already moving, gripping the green silk at Izuku’s waist. There’s a violent, rending sound. The delicate fabric gives way under his hands, torn from hem to neckline. Izuku shudders as the cool air hits his skin, the ruined dress falling in a silken puddle at his ankles. “Fuck,” Katsuki snarls, his fingers hooking into the waistband of Izuku’s stockings. He yanks them down in one rough pull, leaving Izuku bare except for the emerald choker and his heels.
“You too,” Izuku breathes, his own hands fumbling for Katsuki’s tie, his buttons. “Please.”
Katsuki lets him, his eyes burning as he watches Izuku’s frantic fingers. He shrugs out of his suit jacket, lets it fall. Izuku’s fingers pop the buttons of his dress shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the defined abs, that golden happy trail that leads down. Katsuki toes off his shoes, steps out of his pants and boxers, and then he’s just… there. Massive. His uncut cock is fully erect, thick and heavy, his low-hanging balls tight with need. The sight steals the air from Izuku’s lungs.
Katsuki doesn’t give him time to stare. He pushes him backward toward the bed, following him down as Izuku’s knees hit the mattress and he sprawls across the cool duvet. Katsuki cages him, one knee between his thighs, but he doesn’t sink into him. Not yet. His gaze is ravenous, traveling over every exposed inch. “Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs, his voice gravel-rough with awe. His broad hand comes up, palm skimming over Izuku’s stomach, his ribs, then cupping one small, perfect breast. His thumb strokes over the big, puffy nipple, and Izuku arches off the bed with a sharp cry. “So fucking perfect.”
He lowers his head, and his mouth closes over the other nipple. It’s not a suckle; it’s worship. A hot, wet, open-mouthed devotion that pulls a broken sob from Izuku’s throat. Katsuki tongues the stiff peak, then draws it gently between his teeth, humming his approval. The vibration goes straight to Izuku’s core, his oversensitive pussy clenching around nothing. “Katsuki—”
“Daddy,” Katsuki corrects, switching to the other breast, lavishing it with the same meticulous attention. His free hand palms and kneads the first, his calloused thumb rubbing circles that make Izuku writhe. “These perfect little tits. All for me. This whole fucking body.” He trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down his sternum, over his freckled stomach. “I could spend hours right here. Just tasting you.”
Izuku’s hands fly to Katsuki’s hair, his fingers tightening in the spiky blond strands. His thoughts are a shattered mosaic. *He likes them. He really likes them.* The insecurity he’d carried about his chest, small and not like a woman’s, evaporates under the scalding heat of Katsuki’s reverence. “They’re—they’re not much,” he gasps, the old doubt slipping out.
Katsuki lifts his head, his eyes blazing. “Don’t you fucking say that.” His voice is a low, dangerous rumble. He pins Izuku with a look that brooks no argument. “They’re yours. They’re perfect. And they make you come apart when I do this.” He swirls his tongue around the areola, then sucks the nipple deep, hard enough to make Izuku’s back bow off the mattress. A fresh wave of wetness soaks the sheets beneath him. “See?”
“I see,” Izuku whimpers, his head thrashing on the pillow. The dual sensations—the exquisite torture on his nipples, the empty, aching throb between his legs—are driving him mad. “Daddy, please, I need—”
“I know what you need, baby boy,” Katsuki murmurs against his skin, his mouth moving lower, tracing his hip bones. “But this comes first. My turn to savor.” His hands slide under Izuku’s ass, lifting him, and Izuku knows he’s being positioned for his mouth again. The anticipation is a live wire, sizzling under his skin. Katsuki looks up the length of his body, his gaze locking with Izuku’s. “You’re the whole goddamn meal.”
Katsuki doesn’t wait for a reply. He buries his face in him.
The first hot, wet swipe of his tongue is a shock—a searing, perfect shock that punches a ragged cry from Izuku’s throat. Katsuki’s mouth is everywhere at once, licking broad stripes through the slick mess Izuku made on the sheets, then spearing deep into his entrance, tasting him with a guttural, starving sound. Izuku’s back arches off the mattress, his hands flying back to fist in the duvet. “Daddy—!”
“Fuck,” Katsuki growls against his flesh, his voice vibrating through Izuku’s core. He pulls back just enough to speak, his lips shining. “Even better the second time. Deeper. Muskier.” His crimson eyes burn up at Izuku, possessive and awed. “All mine.”
He dives back in, and this time it’s slower, more deliberate. Worshipful. His tongue fucks into him, deep, then withdraws to circle his swollen clit with torturous precision. Izuku’s thoughts shatter. *He’s not just doing this to get me ready. He wants to. He likes it.* The realization is a hot flood in his chest, more intimate than any fuck.
“You taste like sin,” Katsuki murmurs, his breath hot on his wet skin. He sucks Izuku’s clit into his mouth, humming, and Izuku sobs, his hips lifting off the bed. “Sweet, filthy sin. And it’s all for me.”
“Yes,” Izuku gasps, his head thrashing side to side. The pleasure is a tight coil in his belly, already winding again despite his earlier climax. Katsuki’s hands are under his ass, holding him open, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of his cheeks. The position is obscenely vulnerable, and Izuku loves it. “Only for you, Daddy, I swear—”
Katsuki answers by redoubling his efforts. His tongue flicks rapidly over Izuku’s clit, then settles into a relentless, sucking rhythm. The wet, filthy sounds fill the silent suite, mingling with Izuku’s broken moans and the distant hum of the city. Katsuki is a man possessed, feasting, his own need evident in the low groans he makes against Izuku’s skin.
Izuku’s fingers find Katsuki’s hair again, not to guide, but to anchor himself. The world narrows to this point of searing contact. He’s babbling, truths spilling out. “I’ve never—no one’s ever wanted to—like this—”
Katsuki pulls off with a wet pop. His face is glistening, his breathing ragged. “Because they were idiots.” His voice is scraped raw. “This is a fucking privilege.” He says it with such fierce conviction that Izuku’s eyes sting. Before the emotion can crest, Katsuki lowers his head again, this time tracing his tongue lower, over his perineum, teasing the tight furl of his ass. Izuku jolts. “Every damn inch,” Katsuki vows, his words a hot promise against skin.
The orgasm builds differently this time—not a sudden crash, but a deep, rising tide. Izuku feels it gathering in the base of his spine, spreading through his belly, making his thighs tremble in Katsuki’s grip. “I’m close,” he warns, his voice thin and reedy. “Daddy, I’m so close—”
“Let me taste it,” Katsuki commands, his mouth sealing over Izuku’s clit again. He sucks, hard, and adds two fingers, sliding them effortlessly into Izuku’s soaked, clenching channel. The stretch is perfect, the curling pressure of his fingers against that sweet spot inside making Izuku see stars.
Izuku comes with a shattered cry, his body bowing off the bed. It’s a deep, pulsing release, less a gush and more a hot, endless flood. Katsuki drinks it down, his throat working, a satisfied, animal sound rumbling from his chest. He doesn’t stop, licking and sucking through the violent tremors, gentling only when Izuku’s sensitive flesh flinches from overstimulation.
Izuku collapses back onto the soaked sheets, utterly spent, his chest heaving. Katsuki finally lifts his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving Izuku’s wrecked face. He looks triumphant. Ravenous. And something else, something soft and terrifying at the edges. He crawls up Izuku’s body, his own erection a heavy, insistent heat against Izuku’s thigh. “Meal’s over,” he rasps, leaning down to kiss him, letting Izuku taste himself on his tongue. “Now it’s my turn to fuck my dessert.”
"Yes, Daddy, fuck me!" Izuku begs, the words tearing from his throat raw and desperate. His hand flies down between their bodies, his fingers wrapping around the thick, heavy heat of Katsuki's cock. He guides the weeping tip through his own slick, running it against his puffy, swollen lips, the contact an electric shock that makes them both gasp. "Please, now, I need it—"
Katsuki's control snaps. A guttural snarl rips from his chest as he surges forward, his hips driving down. The broad head of his cock catches, then pushes past the tight, welcoming ring of muscle, sinking into the soaking, clenching heat in one brutal, perfect thrust. Izuku screams, his back arching off the soaked sheets, his nails digging into Katsuki's shoulders. "Fuck!"
"That's it," Katsuki grates out, his voice shredded with need. He's buried to the hilt, his balls pressed against Izuku's ass, his entire body trembling with the effort of not just pounding him into the mattress immediately. "Take it. Take all of me, baby boy."
Izuku can only sob, his legs hooking around Katsuki's waist, locking him in. The stretch is immense, burning, exactly what he's been aching for. He's so full he can't breathe, every nerve ending singing. "Daddy," he chokes out, his eyes screwed shut. "You feel so big."
"Look at me." The command is rough. Izuku's eyes fly open, meeting Katsuki's crimson gaze, which is blazing with a possessiveness so intense it borders on fury. "Watch me ruin you."
He pulls back, almost all the way out, the drag making Izuku whimper, then slams back in. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the suite. It's not a rhythm; it's a claiming. Animalistic. Deep, punishing thrusts that punch the air from Izuku's lungs and make the bed frame shudder against the wall.
Izuku meets every drive, his hips lifting, his body begging for more. The pleasure is a sharp, bright wire, fraying his thoughts. "Yes! Harder—fuck, right there, Daddy, right there—"
The coil in Izuku's belly winds tighter, impossibly fast. The overstimulation Katsuki's mouth crashes down on his, swallowing his cries. The kiss is brutal, all teeth and shared, panting breath. He fucks him like he's trying to disappear inside him, his pace relentless, his hands gripping Izuku's hips hard enough to bruise. "Mine," he growls against Izuku's lips between thrusts.
"Tell me you want it," Katsuki snarls, his hips pistoning, the wet slap of their bodies a brutal rhythm against the city's silent hum. "Tell me you want my fucking cum in this perfect little pussy."
"I want it!" Izuku screams, the words torn from him, his head thrashing back. "Daddy, please, fill me up, I want it so bad—"
"Goddamn right you do," Katsuki growls, his pace turning punishing, each drive aimed deep, the thick length of him hitting a spot that makes Izuku's vision blur. "This cunt was made for it. Made to take me. To milk my fucking cock dry."
Izuku can only sob in agreement, his body a conduit of pure sensation. The overstimulation from his earlier climaxes has burned away, leaving only a raw, hungry ache for completion. "Feels so good, you're so deep—"
"Look at you," Katsuki rasps, his voice shredded with effort and awe. One hand leaves Izuku's hip to swipe through the mess on his stomach, then brings slick fingers to Izuku's mouth. "Taste how bad you want it. Taste how fucking sweet you are."
Izuku sucks the fingers into his mouth without hesitation, his tongue lapping at the salt and musk of his own arousal. The submission, the filth of it, sends another violent shudder through his core. Katsuki watches, his crimson eyes dark with a feral pride.
"That's my boy," he breathes, reclaiming his hand to brace himself again, his thrusts gaining a new, frantic edge. The bed groans in protest. "Gonna breed this tight, teenage pussy. Gonna pump you so full you feel me for days."
"Yes, yes, breed me, Daddy," Izuku babbles, the fantasy searing through his sanity. His legs lock tighter around Katsuki's waist, his heels digging into the muscular ass driving into him. "Make it yours, make it yours forever—"
Katsuki's rhythm stutters. A raw, guttural sound rips from his chest. "Fuck. Izuku. I'm—"
"Now! Do it now, please!" Izuku begs, feeling the telltale swell, the impossible heat, the throbbing pulse inside him that signals Katsuki's limit.
Katsuki slams home one final, devastating time and holds, his entire body locking. A hoarse shout is punched from his lungs as he cums, his cock pulsing, a hot, liquid flood erupting deep into Izuku's clenching channel. The sensation triggers Izuku's own climax, a silent, seizing explosion that whites out his vision, his body arching rigidly off the sheets as he milks Katsuki through every last spurt.
Only the sound of their ragged, gasping breaths and the wet, intimate trickle between their joined bodies. Katsuki collapses forward, his weight a solid, shuddering heat, his forehead dropping to Izuku's sweat-slick shoulder. He is still inside, still softly pulsing.
"Fuck," Katsuki exhales, the word muffled against skin. His hand comes up, clumsy, to stroke the damp hair from Izuku's temple. The gesture is unbearably tender. "You ruin me every time."
Katsuki lifts his head from Izuku's shoulder, his breathing still ragged, and captures Izuku's mouth in a deep, languid kiss. It's all tongue and the shared taste of sweat and sex. He pulls back just enough to speak, his lips brushing Izuku's. "We're far from done," he rasps, the promise a dark, thrilling rumble in his chest.
Izuku moans, the sound vibrating against Katsuki's mouth. The thought alone—more, again, already—makes his spent body clench weakly around Katsuki's softening cock, still buried inside him.
"Daddy," he breathes, the word a plea and a prayer, his hands sliding up the damp, muscular plane of Katsuki's back. He can feel the sticky heat of their mingled release trickling down his thigh, a filthy proof he never wants to clean away.