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Since they'd been meeting an associate at a club, Izuku opted for a sleek curve hugging minidress under a suit jacket. Her garters flashing just under the hem of her dress as she walked instead of her usual professional stockings, Izuku drew eyes from patrons and employees alike when they arrived. The stares wore on Katsuki’s nerves nearly as much as the small peek of what lay beneath her dress Izuku teased when they left the house. All this meant Katsuki's already negligible patience was paper thin, much to the detriment of their associate's nerves.
Katsuki couldn’t help but feel contempt for the man, who had eyed Izuku a little too long when they sat down and was now fumbling and sweating his way through the standard assurances. Yes, of course the payment was coming. No, it wasn’t his fault, his underlings were to blame. Bakugou-sama shouldn’t blame him for their mistakes, etc, etc. Tch. Eager to head home, Katsuki cut the conversation off with a curt but perfunctorily polite good-bye; standing abruptly as soon as he felt the meeting had reached a satisfactory conclusion.
Startled, their associate stumbles over himself, trying to rise to his feet and bow at the same time but merely succeeding in spilling his drink over his lap. Katsuki pointedly turns his back on the sniveling man and holds his hand out to Izuku, helping her rise swiftly from the booth as she murmurs a more polite apology for their sudden departure. The sparkle of gold in the thankful smile she flashes always makes his heart skip a beat and he’s helpless not to automatically return it with a soft smirk of his own.
Izuku laces their fingers together as she leads him from the club, letting him trail behind her so his body blocks any view of her until they’re safely in the parking lot. He wouldn’t act so stupidly possessive of her, could’ve kept himself in check, really, if Izuku didn’t seem to revel in the attention and reward it. At the car, Katsuki holds Izuku’s door for her, accepting a kiss and a pat on the cheek before she folds herself into the seat. She makes a point to flash a reminder of what’s under her skirt at him, laughing when he closes the door just a little
too
hard.
Katsuki expected the hand on his thigh as soon as he slid into the car. Izuku had been distractingly tactile all evening; letting her nails graze the inside of his arm as she took the drink he handed to her and brushing her lips over the shell of his ear when she leaned in to whisper something important about their contact. Her wide, green eyes would flash at him when she pulled back, making Katsuki struggle to remember what she'd just said. He was derailed further by the hint of gold in Izuku’s smirk when he had to pause to collect himself, knowing the moment would have been imperceptible to anyone but her.
Now, he enjoys the warm possessive weight of her hand while watching the reassuring swing of Kiri's headlights in his rearview mirror as they pull out of the parking lot. When Izuku removes her hand and turns in her seat to face him, Katsuki lifts his arm, expecting her to cuddle up for the drive home. Instead, he swears, fumbling for the gear shift and taking his foot off the gas, startled by hands working at his fly.
"Keep your eyes on the road, Kacchan," Izuku scolds.
Lips pulling back into a snarl, Katsuki obediently keeps his eyes glued to the road in front of them. He shifts and merges onto the freeway mechanically as Izuku's scarred hands guide his half-hard cock out of his pants and begins stroking him with a loose grip. Cuddling close, Izuku nuzzles against Katsuki's neck and nibbles at the skin below his ear, giggling and squeezing his cock when he swerves in their lane.
"God, he thought you were furious with him," she says, gleeful as she slowly jacks him from base to head, pausing to tap almost thoughtfully at his slit with her thumb.
"I was fuckin' furious," Katsuki bites out, sneaking a glance at Izuku's cleavage out of the corner of his eye. Izuku tsks reproachfully, making Katsuki hiss and snap his eyes back to the road even as Izuku deliberately leans her breasts more firmly against his shoulder. She’s playing with him, tugging his attention back and forth between her words and her actions and he can’t help but fall for it over and over.
"I know, baby," she murmurs, twisting her wrist on the next upstroke she sighs, "I'd say Kacchan was patient like a good boy, but..."
Katsuki snaps his teeth at her playfully, risking another look and rasping, "You know I'll be your good boy, Mama."
"Oh, you'll be Mama's good boy, huh?" Izuku's asks, lips quirking up at the corners as she trails her fingers down his arm. Her nails catch against the fabric of his sleeve and tease the bones of his wrist before smoothly swapping his hand for her own on the gear shift.
"Izuku-," Katsuki starts to warn.
"Hush," Izuku gently chides, "I've got it. You’re being a good boy, remember ?"
Katsuki swallows thickly as she tucks his newly freed hand under her skirt, pressing him firmly against the hot length of her cock, barely contained by the tiny scrap of lace she calls a thong. Izuku rolls her hips against Katsuki's hand, forcing low, guttural noises from both their throats.
Twisted as she was to straddle his forearm, Izuku still managed to work the gear shift smoothly, attuned to the subtle shifts of Katsuki's body and the car. Katsuki growls, catching her slow undulation out of the corner of his eye while keeping his head facing the road, following the letter of Izuku’s order if not the spirit. He struggles to focus on driving though, cupping his hand around Izuku and squeezing just the way she likes for her to frot against.
Confident that Katsuki's hand wouldn't be moving from where she'd placed it, Izuku kept grinding, tugging the neckline of her dress down below her breasts with her freehand. The bra she was wearing, if you could call it that, was more of a pretty wrapper than anything functional with cups cut so low her nipples peeked over the scalloped edges.
Katsuki doesn’t realize he’s turned his head to watch her pinch and roll her nipples to hard points until a car horn blares. Swearing, Katsuki swerves back into his lane and glares at his rearview mirror when Kirishima flashes his brights, making Izuku laugh.
"Kacchan, eyes on the road ," she repeats, gripping his chin and turning it firmly forward. With a last roll of her hips against his hand, she pulls his grip away from her cock and scoots down to sprawl toward him across the front seat. Katsuki swears again and grabs for the gear shift while she starts to mouth lazily at the precum pearling from his slit.
Katsuki's grip was tight on the steering wheel, knuckles blanching, gnashing his teeth in frustration at Izuku's slow teasing touches. The curtain of her hair hides what she’s doing from the quick glances he keeps throwing at his lap, but he can still feel the way she purses her lips against the head of his cock before dragging them down his shaft. He groans, picturing the way the streetlights would catch the wet flick of her tongue against his skin.
Izuku draws her knees under her on the seat and arches her back, deliberately letting her dress ride up to her waist; the edge of her tiger tattoo and her tiny thong peeking out as she sways her ass provocatively in Katsuki's peripheral.
Gritting his teeth, Katsuki lets the car drift into the far right lane so no one else on the road can get an eyeful; the last thing he needs tonight is to add vehicular homicide to his rap sheet. After shifting, his right hand lands on Izuku's back tracing the lines of her tattoo before sliding lower, grabbing possessively at her ass as she finally takes him into her mouth. She keeps her pace slow, bobbing her head and humming in satisfaction when his thighs twitch under her hands. He only means to tease a little, give back some of what Izuku’s been giving, but when Katsuki hooks his fingers in her thong and pulls it aside to find the base of a plug, he can’t contain his groan.
Izuku pulls off his cock just enough to smirk up from his lap and tongue at his glans before ducking back down, taking Katsuki all the way to the back of her throat. Katsuki swears, fingers digging into the meat of her ass as she swallows once, twice, and then a third time around him, her throat clicking wetly before pulling off with a filthy slurp. She doesn’t bother to wipe the string of drool connecting her plush bottom lip to the head of his cock before ordering, "Kacchan, pull over now ."
It doesn’t matter that they’re only ten minutes from the house or that they’re still on the highway with cars flying past, Katsuki pulls over. He barely has time to see Kirishima pull off the road behind them before Izuku is fumbling for something between his seat and the car door. As he opens his mouth to ask what the hell she’s doing, Izuku finally finds the lever she’s looking for and the whole driver's seat folds back with a whump .
Katsuki tries to rise up on his elbows but Izuku straddles his lap and pushes him back down with a firm manicured hand to his chest. "Mommy's going to fuck you now, okay? Just lay back for me," Izuku purrs.
Katsuki finally has a good view of Izuku, crouched over him like some sort of succubus with her tits up to her chin, her dress more of a belt than anything else, and her tiny thong still valiantly trying to contain her erection. She works the plug out with an impatient huff and tosses it over her shoulder to roll around in the footwell before lining his cock up and fucking herself down on it smoothly. Izuku lets out a content sigh, like she finally feels whole this way, wild eyed and half dressed but full, full, full of him at last.
Obedient in the way he only ever is for her, Katsuki lays still under Izuku, eyes wide with open adoration. Balancing herself with a hand on his chest, her powerful thighs make it look easy as she rises up, until just the tip of his cock is barely stretching her rim before slamming herself back down, sheathing Katsuki to the hilt again and again. Head tipped back in pleasure, the headlights of passing cars sweep over Izuku's heaving chest and make the beads of sweat on her breasts shimmer in the low light against the sheer lace of her bra.
Katsuki moans when her free hand finally grabs her cock, impatiently shoving her thong aside to stroke herself in time with the brutal pace she’s setting. Not for the first time Katsuki wishes he was flexible enough to suck Izuku's dick while she rides him but he has to content himself with a promise that he'll get his mouth on her later.
"Fuck, Izuk-," he cuts himself off with a hiss as her nails dig into his chest through his shirt and hurries to correct himself, "Mommy! Fuck, Mommy looks so good like this, fuckin' perfect."
She laughs, high and bright, sliding her hand from his chest to squish his cheeks, "So sweet, Kacchan." Izuku's eyes sparkle impishly at him as she leans back against the steering wheel and relaxes for a moment, seating herself firmly with a filthy swivel and grind of her hips. "Do you want to cum in me now or at home? I'll be nice and let you pick since you've been so good."
Her question punches a whine from Katsuki, his hands flexing against the leather of the seat as he tosses his head in frustration at the impossible choice. Izuku giggles and makes a small bouncing motion in his lap, clenching around him in a way that nearly makes the decision for him.
"At home," he grits out reluctantly between his squished cheeks. As much as his cock throbs and screams at him, he knows it’ll be better when he can lay Izuku out on their bed at home and worship her properly. She’s so wound up this will be over in a few minutes, but whatever she has planned for home might last for hours .
Katsuki must give the answer she’s looking for, because Izuku's smile is smug when she releases her grip on his face to brace herself again, this time using the ceiling for leverage.
"Good boy, Kacchan. Take off your shirt for me," she coos, little ah ah ah’s slipping past her lips as she starts to fuck herself on him in earnest. By now, she knows exactly the angle and pace to set to use his body for her own pleasure. "Your shirt , Kacchan," Izuku says again, more urgently this time as she drops an arm to strip her leaking cock in time with her bounces.
Mesmerized, Katsuki realizes almost too late what she’s asking for. He frantically releases his grip on the seat to rip open his button down and ruck up the undershirt; buttons flying in every direction as he exposes his tattooed chest and stomach for Izuku. Her knees shake and she hiccups on her moan as she cums, covering him from throat to belly button with the force of her orgasm. It takes nearly a whole minute for Izuku’s body to come to a complete stop, her hips stuttering over his still hard cock as she shudders and lets the last few drops dribble from between her fingers.
When she's finally wrung herself dry, she traces his tattoos with cum sticky fingers, paying special attention to every instance of “ Hers ” inked into his skin between more traditional designs before leaning over to kiss Katsuki with a satisfied hum. After a long indulgent kiss, massaging her cum all over his chest and stomach, she leans back and sighs, "Such a good boy , Kacchan, so perfect for me. I love you so much."
Katsuki's core is taut and he throbs in her, whole body trembling as she hovers over him, his mouth opening almost unconsciously for her kiss. He can't help the hot flush blooming over his cheeks when he feels the tacky wetness start to dry against his skin. Izuku's murmured, "So pretty when you look like you belong to Mommy, Kacchan," only makes Katsuki's blush worse even as he preens under her possessive gaze.
“Thank you, Mommy,” he murmurs, going easily, eagerly even, when she sits up and crooks her finger at Katsuki. She lets him nestle face first into her cleavage and wrap his arms around her waist. Izuku pets his hair sweetly, letting him indulge for a minute as she fumbles with the chair settings to set it upright behind him again.
Her soft, "Kacchan, take me home," makes him reluctantly raise his head. Katsuki shifts to help her slide off of him and onto the seat only for Izuku to huff and tighten her legs so she remains straddling his waist.
"I said, take me home , Kacchan," Izuku reiterates with a pout, even though her eyes sparkle like she’s laughing at him. "You decided to cum in me at home, but we're not home. So you have to stay inside until then, okay?"
Katsuki throbs again, his hands tightening on her waist reflexively with the desire to just take hold of her himself and fuck her up and down on his cock.
" Okay ," he says weakly instead, one hand on her hip holding her close as the other goes for the car keys. Katsuki starts the car back up and waits to see Kirishima do the same in the rearview mirror before merging back into traffic. Izuku hums and nuzzles into Katsuki's neck, reflexively rocking herself gently on his cock, slowly teasing the whole way home.
The roads in the residential area around the house are the worst, every bump and pothole making her clench and jolt over him, punching little moans out of her that land hot and humid against the skin of his neck. Katsuki swears and silently vows to have the family donate funds for road repairs; it reflects poorly on them to have this many potholes near their home.
By the time they’re pulling in, Katsuki can feel Izuku is hard and leaking between them; her grinding growing more impatient as they roll through the front gates of the compound. Once parked, he spares a moment to drape his suit jacket around her shoulders and tuck her legs more tightly around his waist so she’s hidden from view before he hefts her out of the car. They both groan at the jostle and Katsuki pointedly ignores a blushing Ojiro and Shoji where they’re guarding the front door, except to make sure they’re politely averting their eyes from Izuku, careless of his own shirtlessness. They hold the door open and he quickly brushes past, more than eager to get Izuku into their bed. After all, now that they’re home, Izuku has a promise to make good on.