Archive of Our Own ^beta

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The mask was stuffy. Yeah. Breathing in it was a bit uncomfortable, but he could see through it pretty well, which is all that really mattered. The eye holes were big enough and covered with mesh, allowing for a decent range of sight while still being hidden. The fake plastic smell overwhelmed his sinuses. His hair felt matted down to his head and hugged the curve of his neck. It was a completely new sensory experience. 

He looks in the mirror, trying to breathe normally and adjust to the claustrophobic space. He hears his breath, which is a few decibels louder within the mask, feeling echoey and heavier. As he breathes, he watches as the front of the mask barely moves with each exhale. The uncanny face molded there remains neutral and haunting as he allows his body to get acclimated. He stares at his reflection, searching for himself anywhere behind the mask. Even in the bright lighting of his bathroom, he could find nothing—no shining green irises, no symmetrical freckles, not even any wild tufts of hair peeking out at the nape of his neck. He focuses into the eyes of the mask, but is met with nothing but two empty, lifeless voids. 

Slowly, the rubber smell and the humid air fade into the background, becoming more of an immersive sense and less of an uncomfortable nuisance. 

He could get used to this for a few hours, at least.

Ever since he was young, Izuku always loved horror movies. Well, at first he absolutely hated them.

He was a terrified, shaking little thing in his everyday life. Scared of strangers, scared of doctors, scared of the way shadows moved in the dark of night. At his first sleepover in first grade, Kacchan bribed an older kid to rent him Friday the 13th. Izuku had never seen a scary movie before, let alone a movie with so much sex and violence. Everyone was scared shitless, but most of all Izuku. He remembers the terrifying mask, the black ominous lake, the eerie cabin. He remembers Kacchan sneaking up behind him when everyone was asleep, smiling wide when scaredy-cat Deku jumped nearly 5 feet into the air. Everyone laughed. Izuku wanted to go home.

From that day on, Izuku made it his mission to never be scared again. He dove into the scariest of movies, watching at first behind chubby fingers under the covers and then eventually wide-eyed on the edge of his seat. He let the atmosphere of each film take him away into a distant, unsettling world where things were worse than his own boring reality. Gradually, it began to coax his anxiety and bring him comfort. He’d revel as a stalking maniac wreaked havoc on a very dumb, very blonde, very hot main character. He’d laugh when they ran into a closet instead of out the nearest exit. He’d grow silent as the camera moved shakily down a hallway. And he’d smile in awe when the characters would scream as they met their bloody demise. 

He wasn't sociopathic or anything. He simply appreciated the genre.He loved it down to the film techniques and cinematography, to the often campy acting, to the eerie score that set the tone for each scene. But, what really struck him was that beyond the hyperfixation, there was this… feeling. 

This energy . 

The adrenaline of a good jump scare, the fear of not knowing what’s around the corner, the thrill of watching a character give their best blood-curdling screech. It all gave him an almost addicting, tingly sort of feeling. Like his whole body was awake and vibrating and activated.

It was intense. A word many have used to describe him since he could remember. 

Intense in his passions, intense about his studies, intense down to the way he spoke and moved and behaved. He was an intense guy, who felt 10x more than it seemed anyone else did. Or at least more than anyone else made known. It wasn’t unhealthy, it was just his personality. However, he quickly learned to keep it at bay once he realized it was a bit much for other people. Once he realized not everyone wanted to sing along to pop songs at 8am on the school bus, or speak for hours about his favorite heroes, or debate which thriller villains were more iconic. Once a certain someone began to regularly call him “freak” and convinced all the other kids he was going to be a serial killer one day. 

That thought in particular mortified him. He didn’t want to harm a fly, let alone kill anyone. He just found the villains to be interesting, enjoying their thrills and appreciating their calm natures. He liked their outfits, their secret lairs, their signature weapons that bordered on excessive. 

Regardless of his explanations and protests, no one believed him, choosing to shun him for his creepy taste in movies. He learned to hide behind shy smiles and few words and a happy demeanor just to fit in. Watching became his guilty pleasure, with the full-blown obsession wearing off by high school, either due to the suppression or just getting older and having more of a social life. Still, he had a huge appetite for a good horror movie. I mean, he discovered their gratuitous charm during very formative years. It was always going to stick.

While the obsession took more of a backseat to his new young adult life, he would be kidding himself if he didn’t admit that he generally preferred the intensity of life dialed up across the board. He knew that much. He liked heavy music and bright colors and loud people. It gave him that same feeling as the movies, making him feel alive and awake and stimulated. It was almost like some kind of exposure therapy, overloading his system into a state of calm.

He’d say this is the core of why he really loves the horror genre. While the movies evoke a sense of chaos destruction and fear, the killers stand calm and unshakeable amidst it all. Moving slowly, calculated. In total focus, total control.

It appealed to him, this sense of control. This sense of quiet observation. It’s what he practiced for years when he learned to subdue his intensity, mastering the nonchalance that he admired in villains. In turn, this helped him control his anxiety. His temper. His desires. 

He gained the ability to maintain his composure, and while it may not have been the healthiest way to go about it, he wouldn’t really trade it for anything. He loved horror movies and he loved the feeling of being in control. Sue him.

Izuku took one last breath in the mask before pulling it off. He took in his new reflection, seeing the tinge of pink on his cheeks, his slightly matted hair, his eyes adjusting to the new influx of light. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. 

Tonight is going to be fun.

...

It would come as no surprise that Izuku’s favorite holiday was Halloween, or that his favorite movie was also Halloween. So when his teammate, Todoroki, invited him to his first college Halloween party, he knew exactly what to order. 

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the most appealing costume that would attract some hot little thing to come stumbling up to him. Todo advised against it, saying girls liked light-hearted costumes which is why he and Iida were going as Mario and Luigi. Oh well, Izuku was already decided on it. He wanted to live his fantasy and go as his favorite villain–a silent, stoic Michael Meyers. 

Yeah, it would be creepy and unsettling and he was going to go full method-acting with it, but it was Halloween. He didn’t really care. 

And then he really didn’t care, because as he walked the few blocks to the frat house, the disturbed, sometimes starstruck look on people’s faces as they caught sight of him made his heart begin to race. The feeling of striking even just a small bit of shock in others was extremely satisfying.

He felt so cool. He felt like he was in his favorite movie. 

He moved calm, in a sturdy and controlled way, just like Meyers. Perfected simply from hours and hours of rewatches and analysis. 

Izuku felt so cool, and maybe it was the 3 shots he did prior to leaving, but when he made Iida jump at the sight of him, he couldn’t help but feel that adrenaline  coursing through every vein and blood vessel and capillary in his body.

“Holy hell, Midoriya,” Iida exclaims, placing a hand over his heart after opening the door. Izuku noted the fake mustache first, and then saw the green shirt and overalls.

Todoroki popped around his shoulder, sporting the same get up except with a red shirt, “I still can’t believe you’re going to wear this all night.”

Izuku beams underneath the mask, but quickly regains his composure. He presses his lips shut and nods.

“Wow, really in character,” Iida said, moving to the side as he opened the door wider. “Happy Halloween. Liquor's in the kitchen. Let’s meet up later for beer pong, it’d be so funny watching Michael Meyers lose to Luigi.”

Izuku deadpans, hoping somehow his body language is readable through the mask. Iida laughs and shoves him inside, “Just kidding, Mido. Enjoy yourself, you creepy mother fucker.”

Izuku made a note to kick the taller guys ass later.

He made his way inside and the party was already pretty packed. The living room and kitchen were so full of people that it was slightly hard to move. Elbows bumped him and eyes stared as he weaved his way through the crowd towards the kitchen. 

He slots next to a brunette dressed as Princess Peach with a blonde girl dressed as Bowser attached to her neck at the lips. 

“Himiko, my crown is sliding off. Go easy!” The brunette squeals, giggling. 

The Bowser girl unlatches herself from the other's neck, and Izuku notices a newly forming bruise peppered with red spots. He gulps, trying not to stare, and moves his attention to the fridge at their right.

Grabbing a cold beer from the fridge, Izuku moves out of the tight kitchen and positions himself in the corner of the living room by the sound system.

He leans against the bookshelf, uncapping the bottle and bringing it to his lips. Er, that is, the lips of his mask. He isn't quite sure how this was going to go, but his adrenaline is flowing so nicely and he wanted to keep it up. He brings the bottle to his lips and tries to suck the liquid from the small breathing hole. It works at first, but as he gets too cocky, the beer leaks down the sides and spill along his neck. He decides to just babysit the bottle until he can make his way to the bathroom and remove his mask to drink it. 

Under no circumstances is this mask coming off in public tonight. 

Izuku listened to the music, fully invested in people watching. The speakers blast 90’s pop punk music. The heavy drums of Dammit by Blink-182 filled the space. He taps his finger to the tune on the glass bottle and observes those in the crowd moving along. It's a bit of an awkward song to dance to, but some made it work. Head banging and swaying. Some singing along with raised glasses. 

He notices glances. Girls whispering to each other and eyeing him. One guy stumbles up to him and tells him he likes his costume. Izuku simply nods, which makes the guy slur out a, “Woah, so freakyyy.”

Izuku tries to take another sip but ends up spilling more of it. Maybe the shots are getting to him. He grips the bottle and steels himself. The light feeling in his mind was nice, but he wanted to remain in character. 

The crowd in the living room shifts as a new group of people make their way inside. Some guys move through the bodies, one blonde spikey head in particular stands out, making his heart drop.

Kacchan ?

It was only 2 months into the semester, but he hadn't managed to run into Kacchan on campus. Sure, he didn’t really come out to parties yet, and he was really focused on his classes, but this school wasn’t that big. He should have run into him in the dining hall or walking to class or freshman orientation. 

But nope, somehow he’d managed to avoid all signs of his childhood friend until now. He wasn’t avoiding him though. They graduated on weird terms with one another. Not quite enemies anymore but not really friends. It was as if a switch flipped in Kacchan and he learned to tolerate him or just leave him alone. It was kind of weird, but Izuku at least relished the peace of senior year.

Who was he kidding, it wasn’t peaceful. He missed the attention. He missed the way Kacchan would go out of his way to steal his lunch or slam him into a locker. It was… playful… even if it didn’t seem like it. But, something changed senior year. Izuku noticed Kacchan backing off. Only receiving a locker slam every so often. Izuku didn’t look too into it, maybe because he was too focused on his exams and college applications to complain. Maybe because he still felt Kacchan’s attention and annoyed glare on him from afar, even if his physical harassment was toned down.

Whatever, Kacchan was here now, emerging from the cluster of people at the front of the entryway.

Izuku watched as he led his group of friends into the kitchen. As he did, the skin of his shoulders peeked through the less-dense crowd. He couldn’t see his full outfit, but his top looked like some kind of tight jersey tank. 

He disappears behind the kitchen wall. Izuku realizes the anonymity of his costume is a gift, and slowly makes his way closer. 

The music is still loud. Shut Up and Drive is now blasting through the speakers, and the crowd in the living room is loving it. Izuku bumps his way through the jumping crowd. As he emerges and rounds the corner, he slyly leaves his half-empty beer bottle on the adjacent window sill so that he’d have a reason for going into the kitchen. 

The kitchen was a lot less packed, and the wall muffled the music a bit, so he catches bits and pieces of conversation. When he makes his way fully in, his eyes find Kacchan again and this time they widened underneath his mask.

Kacchan’s jersey isn't a jersey at all. It's the cropped top of a cheerleading uniform. It's a snug fit, the v-neck dipping down his chest and revealing the top of perky pecs. Orange fabric rounds over his broad built chest and down his torso, curving like a second skin as his waist narrows, stopping just above his navel. The bare skin is on full display, lean muscle and tight abs with the most perfect looking innie belly button is situated right in the middle. He’s seen Kacchan in the locker room, yeah, but the way his midriff is sitting teasingly between such provocative clothing makes Izuku’s stomach do a flip.

He gulps, taking his eyes down further, not sure if he can handle what comes below.

He's met with the tightest mini skirt adorned with a teasing slit over one thigh. The skirt sits low on his hips, exposing his lower belly and riding dangerously close to his v-line. The bottom hem of the skirt ends at his upper thigh, just barely covering… yeah.

The milky skin and faint blonde hairs on his thighs seem to go on for miles, sculpted quads slightly flexed at his wide-legged stance. 

Izuku doesn't understand how it is possible to be so masculine and feminine at the same time. Not androgynous, but equally each of them.

When his gaze travels down to his calves and tiny ankles, Izuku senses a familiar gaze on him. He looks up at Kacchan who is staring right back at him with a blank expression. 

Izuku’s breath hitches. 

Kacchan is wearing eyeliner. The black around his waterline accentuates his piercing red glare and makes Izuku’s mask suddenly feel extra stuffy. He slowly raises an eyebrow.

Under the mask, Izuku isn't sure how obvious his staring had been. But the way Kacchan is staring at him, he can tell it's a pointed look. 

Izuku just stares back, steadying his composure. 

Kacchan’s stare falters just a bit, almost imperceptibly, but within the same instance he looks away.

Izuku keeps his eyes locked on him and the way his neck looks as he turns to speak to his friends. 

He never really noticed how sexy Kacchan was. I mean, of course Kacchan was attractive and strong and loud , but Izuku is absolutely mesmerized by him in this moment. His exposed skin seemed to be burning Izuku at just the sight of it. It's driving Izuku crazy, and he decides he needed to grab another beer and head to the bathroom for a breather from this mask or he may very well pass out. He needs to regain his composure somewhere away from here. From him.

Izuku approaches the fridge, moving closer to Kacchan and his group. Izuku just now notices his other 2 friends are also wearing cheerleading uniforms. 

Their conversation comes into focus as he retrieves another beer.

“Guys, how are you so comfortable right now? I can’t stop fidgeting,” The darker blonde says as he tugs on the hem of his skirt.

The redhead speaks up next to him

“It’s manly to just embrace it dude,” He says, throwing a jovial arm around him. “Plus, if you’re really that embarrassed just tell anyone who asks the truth—it’s a stupid hazing ritual.”

The darker blonde groans. 

Kacchan speaks up, “And it was your own fucking idea to add the choker collar to the outfit. Stand up straight and own it.”

The darker blonde plays with the metal ring of his choker and groans again.

Kacchan rolls his eyes, “Whatever. Shots will help.”

He pours 3 shots of vodka into mini solo cups that he found on the counter, passing them out to his friends.

Izuku makes his way out of the kitchen, feeling like he lingered and eavesdropped long enough already. He turns his head slightly to glance back as Kacchan throws his head back and takes the shot, watching as his throat bobs around the flowing liquid.

When he's done, he tilts his head back and his gaze falls on Izuku just before he rounds the corner.

——

Katsuki turns back to his friends, feeling the heat of the shot and the attention of the partygoers warming his head. 

He knows he looked hot as fuck. Yeah, he was more exposed than he’d ever been in public, but it feels kind of freeing. He doesn't work out for nothing. He's proud of his body and the way his skin hugs his sculpted muscles. His chest is hugged particularly tight, and it makes his cheeks warm every time the cheap jersey material catches on his sensitive nipples. 

He takes a deep breath, exhaling the cherry vodka smell as he tries to calm himself. The skirt doesn't leave much room for… incidents … so he has to keep himself under control. It shouldn’t be that hard, he’s not normally some kind of horny freak. But, for some reason, the masked gaze on his body left a lasting sensation that he can't stop thinking about.

The guy had left the room already, but he caught him looking twice now. Sure, the mask completely obscured the wearer’s face, but he could feel his stare from deep inside those black eye holes. 

Katsuki shakes his head to clear the thoughts. This is fucking weird. He doesn't know who the hell that was. And normally he would punch the shit out of anyone he caught staring at him for no reason. But it was Halloween, and he's dressed in this slutty little outfit, and something fucky is in the air tonight.

A hand claps down on his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. 

“Another shot, Baku?” Kaminari sings. He toys with the ring of his collar, but this time not as a nervous tick. The idiot’s cheeks were flushed, and he was sporting a shy smile. 

Is the fuckhead beginning to feel himself finally? 

“Atta boy, Kami,” Kastuki says. “Welcome to the party.”

Kaminari blushes more under the praise and hands him another shot. Kastuki grabs it and they all down it. 

...

The night goes on as most frat parties do. The crowd gets tighter, the people get looser, the music gets louder. 

Katsuki finds himself sitting on the arm of the living room couch. His friends are playing some card game, but he’s completely checked out. Partially because he fucking hates card games, but mainly because of the stare currently burrowing into his skin and syphoning his focus. 

From across the crowd, the masked voyeur is locked on him. It’s been like this for about 20 minutes now. Maybe longer, Kastuki isn’t keeping track of time and the alcohol isn't helping. 

The only thing he’s keeping track of is the steady line of attention linking him with this mystery man. 

He shifts on the arm of the couch, thighs rubbing together as he adjusts and uncrosses his legs. If this guy is going to stare, he might as well tease him a bit.

The muscles of his legs spread against the couch and the costume skirt rides up a bit, not quite exposing his underwear but fucking close enough. He leans back a bit, knowing the skirt is stretched across his thighs and creating a tempting little abyss leading right between them.

Katsuki’s careful not to stare back too much. He’s not that fucking desperate. He’s playing a game, pretending he doesn’t care while his blood continues to pump hot and fast under the surveillance. 

Now Katsuki’s not going to lie, it’s a little weird. The guy isn’t talking to anyone, doesn’t seem to be here with anyone. And the times he sees people try to engage him, he only responds with a nod, head shake, or some hand gesture. 

He tries to shake the unsettling feeling. The way the mask shows no emotion, not a hint of who is under there, watching him. But still, the feeling radiating from him is sucking Katuki in somehow, entranced by the spotlight forced onto him.

Katsuki’s eyes find themselves on the stranger, wandering to the his broad shoulders. From what he can see through the crowd, the jumpsuit is nearly bursting with the man’s figure. It looks to be a very snug fit. Maybe he ordered the wrong size? Or maybe he’s just that beefy…

Katsuki wants to sit up straighter to get a better look over the crowd, but stops himself. He has to make a conscious effort to pull his gaze away from the intimidating watcher in the corner. 

Katsuki has to move. It feels like this gaze is a hypnotic vortex, and while he’s feeling flustered all over in the best way, he’s overwhelmed by the urge to pull back some of his autonomy. 

Or maybe it’s because he wants to test something out. Wants to see if this line of attention works both ways and becomes an invisible leash he could pull the lurker along with. 

Katsuki motions to Kirishima, letting him know he’ll catch up with him later and begins to move through the crowd. He slinks through, not sure where he’s going until he finds the door to the back porch. A refreshing wall of cold air hits him, and he inhales deeply. The cool October breeze feels so good on his dewey skin as his eyes scan the backyard. A group is playing beer pong on the deck, some couples are making out on chairs and against the side of the house, and a few are gathered around a small bonfire in the center of the lawn. Katsuki notices a familiar black mullet among the bonfire crew. He crosses his arms over his chest and jogs down the deck stairs. 

Sero looks up as he approaches, eyes widening as he notices Katsuki’s outfit. Somehow this attentive gaze doesn’t make him feel half as hot and bothered as–

“Katsuki Bakugo,” Sero says, exhaling smoke. “Nice outfit.” 

Katsuki takes note of the lingering eyes and smug look, “It’s a hazing thing, and yes I look hot. Now what the hell are you supposed to be?”

Katsuki eyes his black trench coat and soot-smeared face. 

Sero places the lit cigarette between his lips and opens the trench with both hands, revealing a fake bomb. 

“JD from Heathers,” He says, nonchalantly.

“Edgy,” Katsuki deadpans. 

Sero throws an arm around Katsuki, rubbing his shoulder. “Cold or just uptight as usual, Kats?”

Katsuki wants to shove him off, always almost halfway fed-up with Sero, but the touch is kind of nice. 

Sero chuckles. Katsuki moves out of his hold, extending his hands toward the bonfire. It’s so warm, almost too warm. He feels the sweat beginning to form on his brow. It’s a nice balance from the breeze of the cool night, though. 

A cheer erupts from the deck behind them, and Katsuki turns to see some girls cheering at the beer pong table. He considers asking Sero to go over there and team up with him so they could obliterate them, but he spots a familiar rubbery face at the edge of the deck. 

Katsuki’s skin prickles with more heat as the masked figure takes a step forward towards the railing of the deck. He stands there, unmoving, looming. It makes Katsuki flex his entire body just to control his squirm. 

He followed him out here, just as Katsuki had hoped. 

Here, under the outdoor string lights on the deck, Katsuki can get a better look at the voyeur’s whole body. 

The jumpsuit looks tailored to him. His broad shoulders round to thick arms. He can tell that even his forearms are meaty, and they lead to large hands. 

The jumpsuit bunches around his waist, accentuating his wide build. Katsuki’s jaw nearly drops at that, but when he gets to the man’s legs, it actually does. 

The fabric of the jumpsuit hugs his muscular legs just right. Tight around the crotch and the mid-thigh. His legs curve and bulge with his build–the guy clearly never skips leg day. Kastuki has to clench his fists just to distract from the tightness growing under his skirt. 

Katsuki moves his eyes back up to the man’s head. That fucking mask. Every time he looks at it, it gets hotter and hotter. Because of the attention burning through it and because of the mystery lurking underneath. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been staring at each other. For some reason, Katsuki can’t take back this attention anymore. He’s locked on.

The flick of a lighter draws Katsuki out of the moment. He turns back to Sero as if he’d been caught cheating on a test.

Sero is lighting a homemade joint and talking to two purple-haired people who have appeared. One of them is a girl Katsuki recognizes from his physics class. The other is some guy Kami always points out in the dining hall as his “future boyfriend”. They seem to be bashfully holding hands. (Sorry Kami) 

Katsuki can’t remember either of their names.

Sero extends the joint to Katsuki after taking a hit, “Want?”

Katsuki takes the j, inhaling a bit. Just enough to compliment his teetering tipsiness. He exhales over his shoulder, turning to see the masked man still looking at him.

Katsuki smirks and hands the joint back, ready to do some more testing, “Thanks, see you later, Sero. And…”

“Jiro,” The girl speaks up. He notices her fuzzy fingerless paw gloves as she takes the joint from Sero. Then the ears on her headband. Werewolf. The boy next to her doesn’t make a move to say anything, just stares. 

“And Shinso.” The girl continues, elbowing the boy dressed as a very low-effort vampire.

Katsuki nods an acknowledgement to them and makes his way back up the deck. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the masked man’s head swivel to watch his movements. Katsuki needs to get him alone. Needs to meet him. Needs the man to approach him, but it doesn’t seem like he’s ever going to make a move. 

He’ll just have to make him want it really really really badly.

Katsuki opens the screen door and makes his way through the kitchen. He doesn’t hear the door close. The man must be right behind him. The thought sends a pulse through his body.

God, why is this so fucking hot?

Katsuki moves through the crowd and smoothly picks up a shot glass left filled on the counter. He suddenly spins around, coming almost face to face with the masked man behind him. There’s one or two people in between them, but this is the closest they’ve been all night. Katsuki swallows through his choked inhale, staring straight at the man and downing the shot. He keeps his eyes open, locked on him through slitted eyes as the man watches him take the shot.

The costume obscures almost anything, but nothing can mask the intense desire coming from the man. Katsuki swears he sees the muscles in his shoulders tense ever so slightly. 

Oh wow. 

Katsuki licks his lips, catching the drop that spilled over with his tongue. He notices the inhale, notices the way the firm chest in front of him expands against the tight jumpsuit. Oh, Katsuki needs to get this man alone immediately. He doesn’t even know if he would need him to be touched at all, this attention alone could have him writhing and squirming and cumming.

Katsuki’s face is flushed. He bites the inside of his cheek and turns around, making his way towards the stairs to the second floor.

Katsuki climbs the stairs, knowing his ass is on full display as he heads up ahead of the man. He’s ascending, steps wide and strong, yet teasingly slow. He knows his little ass is the cherry on top of his outfit, especially since he’s sporting a jockstrap and nothing else underneath this skirt.

Katsuki feels like prey, flaunting himself in front of this stalking stranger. He figures it must be another student, if he was able to get into the party. But still, the mystery and the creepiness is enough to make Kastuki feel freakishly turned-on at the sense of faux danger. 

When Katsuki reaches the top of the stairs, he checks both directions. Seeing no one down either hall, he turns to the left. He makes his way deeper, the lights aren’t on and the music and chatting of the party becomes muffled as he moves further down the hall. Except, when he focuses, he doesn’t hear any footsteps behind him. Doesn’t feel that oppressive heat behind him like before.

What the hell?

He takes a few more steps, wondering if maybe his ears are playing tricks on him. Finally, near the end of the hall, he turns around. 

The breath gets knocked out of his lungs. 

At the other end of the hall, among the shadows, is the masked man. He looks menacing. He stands tall and wide, like he’s trying to intimidate someone. 

Me , Katsuki thinks.

It makes another pulse radiate through him, ending at his cock. 

The man just stands there. Katsuki remains still too, unsure what to do.

He’s frozen in aroused fear, a state he’s never been in and a state that completely consumes his senses. He waits, knowing he lured the man all the way up there and it’s the other's turn to do something about it.

Katsuki stares, hands at his side and gulps. The masked man couldn’t possibly hear it from the other end, but in a coincidence, it seems to trigger him to step forward.

Katsuki is shaking with anticipation. Why is this so hot? A man is stalking towards him in the dark and he’s half hard. 

The man stalks closer, steadily. Each slow step feels like it’s dragging pleasure along Katsuki’s skin, giving him chills and making him want to arch up into the feeling. Aching to be closer. To surrender himself to the voyeur.

The man’s getting close, dragging out every step, his combat boots making heavy footsteps. Katsuki notices that the masked man is a few inches taller than him. Not by much but by enough that he has to tilt his head down.

As he gets closer, Katsuki’s body moves on its own, betraying his desire to make contact and backing up. He backs up until he’s against the wall, leaning back against it. His face flushes and eyes flutter involuntarily. 

God, he’s so close now. There’s nowhere to go. He's completely cornered.

The man moves impossibly closer and stops right in front of him. 

Katsuki whimpers at the taunting closeness when the footsteps halt right in front of him, not meaning to do it out loud, but unable to stop the sound before it escapes. 

The man doesn’t react to the whimper, which somehow turns Katsuki on even more. He writhes a bit, hands finding the moulding on the wall at hip height. He stares at the masked man, hovering over him with such a dominating presence. Katsuki feels damp between his legs. He must be leaking precum already. He’s dying–aching–to be touched.

Katsuki turns his head to the side and moans, squeezing his thighs together to help get some friction. His hands want to move to his skirt, but he’s afraid that if he lets go of the wall, he’ll fall to his knees. 

Not that he’d hate what could happen while he was down there.

Katsuki moans again, completely wrecked by the thoughts and the presence and the atmosphere. He’s dumbfounded by how keyed-up he is, feeling so impossibly hard that he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

His left hand grips the wall tighter. He needs to touch some kind of skin, adjust his clothes, anything. His right hand moves to his chest. He holds it there, pressing against his peck, right over his sensitive nipple, almost afraid to make another move. He’s frozen there, staring up at the mask.

The man continues to stare down, taking the smallest step forward. Their knees are almost touching now. Katsuki writhes again, hand moving lower to cup under the firm muscle of his tit. The movement is hesitant and Katsuki’s hand stops there.

Then, the masked man tilts his head down, then back up slowly. Katsuki almost doesn’t notice it, too shocked at receiving a reaction from the stoic figure. But he knows it–that was a nod.

What does he want? Katsuki is desperate to find out and give it freely. Anything to make him react, grunt, finally touch him.

Katsuki gulps around his dry throat, and shakily squeezes the meat of his tit. 

The man moves his head again, nodding a bit more clearly this time.

Oh. Oh ? He wants Kastuki to keep touching himself? 

Holy fuck .

Katsuki moves his hand further down to his bare midriff. His palm smooths against his abs, as he revels in the sensation on his skin. 

It’s so erotic. He’s never just touched the skin on his stomach and felt such pleasure. He does it again, this time, slightly grazing his nails against his skin. 

He shivers, throwing his head back, sinking into the sensation. Feeling bold, he rakes his hand lower, staring at the masked man as he does it.

When he reaches the waistband of his skirt, he plays teasingly at it. The masked man’s gaze is down there, watching Katsuki’s long, lean fingers toy with the fabric at one hip of his v-line.

Katsuki bites his lip and tugs the elastic waistband down slightly with his pinky, revealing the soft little wisps of his happy trail. 

The masked man exhales heavily. It's the only sound he’s made tonight, and it hits Katsuki as if it’s the most wrecked pornstar moan. 

“Ooh, what the fuuuck,” Katsuki throws his head back in pleasure.

He’s overcome with it. He nearly sees stars behind his eyes. He looks down and sees the straining tent against his cheerleader skirt. 

Why is that so hot? 

The masked man is looking down again too. Another exhales, a bit more wrecked this time. 

Katsuki moans at how he's watching the stranger eyes his straining cock. He moves his hand lower to ghost over the desperate erection.

The phantom touch sends a pulse through him and he arches off the wall into his palm. The masked man’s gaze is on his face now, and Katsuki looks back at him through pinched brows and hooded eyes.

This exhibitionism is the most intense experience he’s ever had. The mix of attention and intimidation makes him feel like prey about to be devoured. He gives into the lust, touching himself a bit more, wanting to make sure he’s an extra mouth-watering meal.

The man watches for a few more seconds as Katsuki thrusts slowly up into the heel of his palm. Then, fast and calculated, the man’s hand grabs Katsuki’s wrist and still his movements.

Katsuki inhales sharply. The touch around his wrist is like ice. The man is touching him. Finally, some contact. Katsuki could cum right now if he wasn’t slightly apprehensive at the sudden movement.

The man pushes forward, pinning Katsuki's wrist against the wall at his side. Katsuki whimpers at the firm grasp. 

The man moves his head forward, and Katsuki can smell the rubber of the mask. Something about it sends another throbbing pulse to his cock. 

The man stops right by his ear. Katsuki’s legs part without thinking, preparing to finally hear the man’s voice. 

“Can I follow you home?” His voice growls dark and deep, like he’s trying to sound a certain way. It rings familiar but Katsuki's tipsy mind can’t quite place it right now.

Katsuki shivers at the creepy fucking question. He’s beginning to become unfazed by how much this is all turning him on.

He swallows, preparing to answer in a low but still slightly aggressive tone. “Yeah, you fucking freak.”

The masked man exhales a third time. 

Hmm, so he likes that…

The man nods and backs away, letting go of Katsuki’s wrist. Katsuki smirks and stands up off the wall, pretending he’s not completely missing the man’s large hand on him, even just on his wrist.

Katsuki moves past him, eager to get home and go further, whatever that entails. He wasn’t planning on going home with anyone tonight, but is it technically "going home" with someone if you’re agreeing to let them stalk you there?

Anyway, Katsuki has already decided. The man's wide shoulders and this entire situation is too hot to pass up. 

His cock is still hard in his jockstrap, not hidden that well beneath the tight skirt. Oh well, he doesn’t really give a fuck if it brushes up against someone as he’s squeezing through the crowd. There’s no time to calm down, they need to get out of here now.

Katsuki moves through the crowd, making his way to the living room to tell his friends he’s leaving. He prays none of them try to talk to him for too long. He’s impatient and horny and he can’t stand this edging any longer.

He spots Kirishima on the couch. 

“Yo, Kiri,” Katsuki says, trying to steady his voice to mask how wrecked he still is.

Kirishima turns to him with a big shark smile. Katsuki fidgets trying to hide his bulge, “Uh, I’m heading out.”

Kirishima makes a move to stand and Katsuki places a hand on his shoulder, “No need, I have an… escort home.” 

Kirishima’s eyes quirk up at the phrasing as he realizes what he means, “OH, oh, got it. Nice, bro! I should probably find one too… Kami’s already spoken for, as you can see.”

He motions to the other couch, and Katsuki has to focus for a few seconds to find his dark blonde friend behind the limbs of a purple-haired werewolf and a purple-haired vampire. They’re on either side of him, hovering incredibly close and feeling him up. The girl, Jiro, is kissing his neck while Shinso watches with one hand high on his friend’s thigh and the other buried in his hair.

Greedy bastard got what he wanted and then some. Good for him.

Katsuki looks back to Kirishima, raising his eyebrows and trying to hide a smirk, “Damn. Yeah, you need to figure yourself out. Or just wait for the booty call from Pinky.”

As if being summoned, the familiar tone of Kiri’s phone chimes. He glances at the caller and his face breaks into a smile, “Duty calls! Or should I say Booty?” Kirishima winks as he answers the phone. “See you at home, be safe!”

Kirishima’s attention turns to the call and that’s Katsuki’s cue to get the hell out of here.

Katsuki turns around, looking all over the room but doesn’t see the masked guy anywhere.

He frowns, a little disappointed. This guy is teasingly unpredictable. He makes his way outside and into the chill of the night.

——

Izuku is leaning against the front porch beam, waiting in the shadows for Kacchan to come out. He figured he’d lose the blond while he checked in with his friends and creep up on him as he makes his way home.

He’s currently trying to calm his semi down when the front door swings open and Kacchan emerges.

His muscular arms swing as he makes his way down the stairs and glances around. He’s flexed, clearly a little annoyed, and looking around for him. Izuku’s cock throbs at that, at knowing Kacchan is looking for him . 

Well, technically he’s looking for an anonymous masked man. For all Izuku knows, Kacchan thinks this is some random college freak dressed as Michael Meyers. 

The thought sends a wave of jealousy pumping through his veins. 

Izuku stands up straighter, motivation increasing by the second. The floorboards creaking under his shifted weight, making himself known. Kacchan jumps at the sound and turns to the porch. 

Izuku stands there, still and flexed. 

When Kacchan’s eyes adjust, he notices him among the shadows. His eyes widen, flashing a surprised look before falling into feigned neutrality. Kacchan turns on his heels and makes his way to the sidewalk and down the street.

Izuku smiles to himself, pushing off the porch beam and following him with a newfound desire to intimidate, possess, and claim him as his.

Stalking behind Katsuki shouldn’t be this arousing. He knew channeling his inner movie villain would be fun, but Kacchan playing the hot blond victim makes it shockingly sexy.

Izuku watches as Katsuki’s skirt rides up as he walks. Big steps causing the fabric to bunch and reveal even paler, more delicate skin just an inch or so under his ass cheeks.

Kacchan pulls the skirt down just as he thinks he sees the elastic band around the outside of each cheek. Oh my god, if he really saw what he thinks he saw, Kacchan's essentially going commando with just his cock secured at the front of the jockstrap. Izuku clenches his fist, digging his nails into the skin of his palm. 

The streets become more empty as they walk. Katsuki is leading the way to his dorm about 20 feet ahead of him. It’s nearly 2am, and most of the drunk students are either in a house continuing to party, passed out, or making the wobbly trek home. Izuku takes note of how Katsuki is taking some back roads on their way to the main campus. His body vibrates at that, knowing Kacchan is leading him on a more secluded route.

He’s loving this little roleplay as much as Izuku is. 

Maybe even more. 

Izuku thinks back to the way Kacchan writhed against the hallway just from Izuku's gaze and towering stance. It was breathtaking. Izuku could only watch in awe as Kacchan nearly came in his skirt just from feeling cornered. 

Izuku doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he actually gets the chance to touch him properly.

His half hard cock moves against the tight jumpsuit crotch as he walks, and he inhales deeply. 

Kacchan begins to look back every so often, and it drives Izuku mad.

It’s either his piercing, black-rimmed bedroom eyes or the fact that the rest of his face is coated in a mix of feigned paranoia and arousal. His salvia-wet bottom lip hang slightly open in a parted-mouth, breathless expression.

Kacchan is really playing into this. Izuku starts to walk a bit faster, upping the intensity.

Also because, fuck , he doesn’t know if he can make it to the dorms.

Kacchan looks back, noticing the change of pace and speeding up himself.

They’re walking quickly now, down the middle of the empty road, illuminated every so often by dim orange streetlights.

When Katsuki is trying to gain distance, Izuku ducks into the sidewalk and underneath the darker shadows of the overhanging trees. When Katsuki turns around, he has to peer around in the darkness to find him. Izuku’s moving at the same pace as before and when Katsuki looks at him, he decides to speed up to a light jog. Katsuki throws a cheeky glance over his shoulder and starts to jog.

Izuku begins to run now, weaving through trees and parked cars and lawn decor. He’s going to catch Kacchan and make him his. He’s going to run his hands all over his body and claim him. Claim his victim . 

Kacchan breaks into a sprint, looking back with adrenaline in his eyes now. The feeling of being chased is always such a rush. Izuku can tell his breathing is heavy and his footing is slightly unbalanced. He’s still a bit tipsy, but he’s giving it his all.

Izuku gets up to full speed now, hard footsteps pounding against the pavement. 

His heart is racing. His blood is pumping. His endorphins are overflowing.

Chasing Kacchan in a full sprint is exhilarating. His eyes are locked on his ass, watching the skirt as it rides up his legs with each stride. Kacchan has stopped trying to readjust it, too consumed by the chase. The curve of perky asscheeks peek out the bottom hem and strong legs pump with each step.

Kacchan changes direction and rounds down a corner. His footing slips on the dirt and a yelp escapes him.

The sound pierces Izuku’s chest like an arrow. 

The unstable footing, the panicked steps, the shocked cries. Izuku feels like a real life horror villain hunting a beautiful blonde scream queen. 

Izuku is on Kacchan’s heels, but the blond is just out of his reach. Unfortunately for him, he unknowingly leads them down a dead end alley.

They both slow down. Kacchan turning around, face flushed from running, hair windswept and breath heavy. His eyes are wild, happy. He enjoyed the chase too.

It’s dark, but Izuku can tell his pupils are blown as he watches Izuku with uncertainty.

The expression on his face, the exposed belly button expanding and tightening with his heavy breaths, the tongue leaking out to wet his dry lips—it all hits Izuku right in the groin.

He moves forward with sudden speed, startling Kacchan and making him jump backwards.

Izuku is on him in seconds, standing an inch away from him and moving closer. Kacchan backs up, staring with wide eyes and parted, panting lips, until his back makes contact with the side of the building behind him. 

They’re deep in this narrow side street. The streetlights are far and hidden around the corners. The motion sensor light in this alley turned on but it's faint and flickering every so slightly. The only other illumination is the moonlight's blue hue on them.

Izuku’s breathing is heavy under his mask. He doesn’t care that he’s making a sound. In fact, the huffing and puffing is making his cock grow, reminding him that he finally caught up with Kacchan. That he’s got him right where he wants him. He's earned the right to go in for the kill.

Izuku moves closer, slowly. Only continuing to breathe, but not saying a word or making contact.

Katsuki is looking at him with the hottest, dazed look he’s ever seen. Nervous and unsure and scowling, yet so lustful and wanting. His shoulders are slightly hiked up, arms flexed, fists clenched, stance wide in anticipation. Every inhale and exhale as he catches his breath is on full display under the skin tight outfit. 

Izuku takes in the scene before him once more until he can’t help himself any longer. He grabs both of Katsuki's wrists in one large fist, startling him. Izuku pulls both of his arms up against the brick wall, just above Kacchan’s head. His elbows are bent and his head tilts back against the wall. Izuku stares at his neck and watches his muscles constrict, adam’s apple bob, as he gulps.

Izuku moves closer, caging him up against the side of the house between his raised arm and open thighs.

“Got you,” Izuku says. He can’t help himself anymore. 

Kacchan scowls more, blushing profusely, “You fucking creep.”

Izuku moves his thigh in between Katsuki’s closed legs, spreading them apart but careful not to make contact with bulging erection just yet.

Kacchan exhales then inhales shakily, preparing to say something else, but Izuku moves quickly, not wanting him to think he's in control of this situation. He moves knee up between his legs and presses against Kacchan’s cock. Hard .

Katsuki groans, the harsh contact slightly knocking the wind out of him a little. Izuku watches as he swiftly melts into the feeling, his hips then buck up into the front of Izuku’s thigh. Through the fabric, he can feel Kacchan’s rock hard length. 

Kacchan stills, mouth parted slightly, and Izuku removes his thigh. Kastuki cries at the loss, tears forming on the corners of his eyes. 

Izuku stares at his eyes in awe, frozen for a moment as he watches the glistening wetness gather on the waterline. Izuku licks his lips under the mask.

Katsuki whimpers again, “You teasing fuck, you chase me all this way and then make me beg for it?” 

Impatient. The sentiment goes straight to Izuku’s cock. 

He stares down at Kacchan, leaning against the wall under his still-restrained arms. Izuku tightens his grip and nods. He needs to hear him say it.

Katsuki bites his lip. Izuku sees the internal battle on his face. Kacchan isn’t one to beg, but Izuku’s watched how his lust has been slowly breaking down his hard exterior all night. 

Katsuki leans his head down, seemingly struggling to follow through with the conclusion he’s come to. He looks up through long lashes, “Touch me, freak .”

The nickname reminds him of when they were younger. If he was crazy, Izuku would think Kacchan intentionally said it in the exact same way. 

He’s gotta admit seeing Kacchan like this, seething with desire and frustration and pleasure is something he’ll never forget. Something he never dreamed of ever seeing. It’s got Izuku’s cock so hard. He can’t help but give him everything he wants.

Izuku’s free hand grabs at Kacchan’s hip, snaking his fingers through the slit of his skirt and tracing up his thigh. His thick hand continues until it rounds the top of his ass. 

He clenches, digging his fingers into the soft supple skin. It feels exactly as he imagined it would feel. 

Still pinning Kacchan’s wrists, Izuku continues to grope him. His hand roams up his torso, ghosting over that innocent looking belly button, thumb pressing into the indent. He drags his hand up further, cupping his perky peck. He spots the hardened nipple through the fabric of the uniform and grazes his finger over it.

Katsuki cries out, writhing against the wall but unable to move much from Izuku’s retraining grip and caging thighs.

Izuku’s hand roams more, moving to the other nipple and tweaking it, pulling out another gasp from Katsuki’s sweet mouth.

He moves down again, following the slope of his ribs to his petite waist. Lower, lower, slipping a finger in the waistband of his skirt and pulling it down his hip a bit, exposing the sharp bone jutting out and leading to more v-line.

Izuku exhales sharply, knowing how it affects Kacchan simply from the tremble of his thighs and the faint pants escaping him at an uneven pace.

Izuku’s hand moves once more, making its way to his ass again. Kacchan breathes shakily. Izuku’s hand grabs a handful, a hiked-up skirt and bare cheek in his grip. He massages it, squeezing the soft muscle.

It’s addicting. It feels so right in Izuku’s palm. He wonders what it would feel like against his cheek. What it would look like rebounding from powerful thrusts.

When Izuku comes back to earth from his thoughts, he moves over to the middle of Kacchan's ass, to the part of his cheeks, slipping his hand down just a bit more, tracing the cleft of his ass until his fingers fully hang over the hem of the skirt. 

Katsuki’s breath hitches before being immediately choked on when Izuku curls his fingers until his middle finger makes contact with the raw skin of his ass, hovering just above where his hole is buried.

Izuku pauses there, watching as the beautiful, tortured man wiggles and squirms from anticipation. He’s not even touching his hole, but just the grip and the finger dipping between his cheeks is making him wild.

Izuku decides to torture him for just one more moment before he makes a move. Gripping one cheek, he spreads Katsuki apart just slightly, exposing his hole to the outside air and, more importantly, Izuku. Katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the lewd feeling. 

Katsuki leans his head back against the wall and moans in the most delicious tone while looking right at him. 

Izuku is reminded that he’s looking at the rubber mask, and pleasure shoots through his body. His hips jerk forward and press against Kacchan’s waist. 

Their hard cocks slot together, making both of them moan. Izuku’s moan muffled by the mask, and Katsuki’s moan muffled from where he’s now biting down onto Izuku’s shoulder.

The feeling of Kacchan’s teeth slightly digging into his muscle pulls a low growl out of Izuku. The biting is rough and feisty and his mouth feels so hot on his skin.

Izuku moves, thrusting just a bit to create friction. If he’s not careful, they’ll come just like this.

Not that that’s bad, but Izuku has other plans.

He thrusts up, hand still between Kacchan's slightly parted cheeks pushing them together. With each thrust, Kacchan emits soft little moans. Izuku can tell he can’t help it, just a physical reaction to the blinding pleasure pulsing between them. 

Katsuki tries to muffle them against his shoulder, but they’re too much to contain. He’s so blissed out. Izuku wants to swallow every note of his aching melody.

Izuku composes himself again, tightening his grip on his wrists, refusing to let him go. Reminding him that he’s holding him here. That he caught him. That he’s his.

Izuku’s hips slow. Katsuki catches his breath, whining again. He waits a moment, still panting, but Izuku continues with his new painfully slow pelvis tilts.

“You fucking tease.”

Izuku slaps the side of his ass cheek with his free hand. Katsuki whimpers. Izuku fully stops his movements.

Katsuki bucks up, thrusting and rutting like a desperate brat. Izuku throws his head back, pleasure building in him, almost overcome with it. The way Katsuki is moving, gyrating, in this dark alleyway, past midnight. It’s so fucking hot.

Katsuki’s writhing slows. He leans his head forward, cheek against masked cheek, lips by Izuku’s covered ear. Izuku’s ready for the next degradation, but it doesn’t come.

Katsuki inhales, thrusting up hard and pushing their cocks together as he gasps, “I know who you are.”

Izuku’s eyes widen incredulously. He stiffens just a bit and Katsuki smirks, “Yeah, who else but Deku could be so fucking deranged.”

Katsuki rolls his hips again, “And that back, those shoulders, the fucking bane of my existence senior year, when you really... bulked up.”

Adrenaline shoots through Izuku’s body, veins on fire and patience burning to ash in less than a second.

Within the next moment, Izuku is releasing Kacchan’s wrists and turning him over so he’s facing the wall.

Izuku hastily pulls the skirt over his nearly exposed ass, revealing two pale cheeks made that much perkier by the jock straps running underneath them. He grinds against him, pressing the unbearably hard outline of his cock right between Katsuki’s cheeks. 

Katsuki lets out a surprised moan at being manhandled into a new position. Izuku’s hand grips either side of his hips and he grinds up into his ass. Both his hands roam up along his sides, lifting his shirt up over Kacchan’s chest. His rough fingers latch onto both nipples from behind and rub over them. Katsuki arches back at the sensations, crying out as he pushes his ass into Izuku’s strained cock. 

Izuku’s cock is desperate and leaking at this point. It’s probably red and angry, that’s how hard he feels against the tight jumpsuit. How hungry he is to be buried deep in Kacchan’s sweet ass. 

Izuku shifts back, removing himself from Kacchan and uses his knee to spread his legs again. He touches his lower back, running his touch all the way down to his ass, not hesitating to graze a finger right over his hole. It’s almost puckering, already aching to suck in anything it touches without even having been played with or prepped. Or has it been?

Izuku pulls a packet of lube from his pocket, thankful he remembered to snag some from Todoroki’s room before he left the party. He drizzles it over his long middle finger and pushes his wet digit against Kacchan’s rim. 

He feels his hole clench slightly. Izuku persists, pushing past the muscle and inserting the tip of his finger. Katsuki moans with pleasure, legs shaking. Izuku better open him up quick, or else—

When he gets to his first knuckle, Kacchan suddenly cries out in pleasure like nothing before. His hips jerk and his hole sputters around Izuku’s finger.

Clearly riding a high that Izuku doesn’t want to him to be riding right now, Izuku pulls his finger out. The loss makes Katsuki inhale and jerk, cutting off whatever orgasm or wave of pleasure was just about to crash.

Izuku groans, loving the sight of an edged Kacchan. He’s crying out, nearly in pain as his climax is teased and played with. Izuku wishes he could see the way his hole sputters and pulses on nothing.

“De…ku…” Kacchan chokes out through gritted teeth. Legs shaking so much Izuku has to hold him up. 

He didn’t realize Kacchan was so close. His fingers are thick but one knuckle? 

God, Kacchan is so fucking perfect. 

Izuku massages his hip soothingly. Once Kacchan’s breathing steadies a bit, Izuku decides to take off his mask.

The fresh air hits his face with a new sense of purpose. The purpose of fucking Kacchan right here, right now, in the dark of this alley.

Kacchan looks over his shoulder and Izuku is met with pink cheeks striped with mascara-tinted tear streaks. His glazed-over eyes struggle to focus on Izuku. He looks properly fucked and wrecked. Izuku wants to relish it forever. 

When Kacchan’s eyes begin to roam his face, Izuku remembers he just took off his mask. He quickly runs a hand through his hair to tussle the matted curls. He smirks, eyes darkening as Kacchan takes in his face.

Izuku tilts his head down, eyes still dark and voice coming out low, “Now, I’m going to fuck you right here, Kacchan. And you’re going to be a good boy and only cum when I tell you it’s okay, right?”

Kacchan’s eyelids flutter a bit, blush darkening across his cheeks. He nods sheepishly. 

“Good Kacchan,” Izuku coos. Katsuki’s blush reaches the tips of his ears. Izuku gulps. 

His lustful thoughts take over and words come stumbling from his mouth.

“You leave the house wearing this little outfit, flaunting those sculpted arms, perky ass, naught little belly button,” Izuku’s hand moves up to his pecks and massages gently, “and these perfect fucking tits.” 

Kacchan whimpers. Izuku knows he’s pushing him too far. He knows he can’t handle much more praise and teasing, knows the orgasm is still just right there.

As much as he wants to tease the blonde, he refocuses.

Kacchan’s lips part as Izuku’s lubed finger slips inside him again. He makes quick work of pumping in and out, stretching him enough and then slipping another one in.

Kacchan is so tight. So fucking tight. Izuku wonders if he’s ever been fucked like this before. If he’s ever been fucked period.

He shakes his head, now is not the time for this. Kacchan is beginning to shake and beg on his finger, letting out small little please’s and de—ku’s . 

Izuku is pumping three of his large fingers in Katsuki’s hole now. He’s arching back, taking him so well. Izuku’s cock twitches at the tightness around his fingers. At the way Kacchan’s almost fucking himself back on them. At the way he’s humming and moaning and whimpering.

Izuku scissors his fingers and Kacchan throws his head back, groaning to the sky. 

That’s all it takes. Izuku can’t hold on any longer. He shakily unzips his jumpsuit in a rush, exposing his hairy chest and letting his thick cock spring out of the jumpsuit, finally free from the tight fabric.

Izuku grabs ahold of his length, smearing what’s left of the lube down his aching length. He kisses the head of his cock right up against Kacchan’s pink hole. He moans and pushes back, and Izuku succumbs to the rush of lust.

He slides into Kacchan. Gently, but with force. It feels like he’s clenching his every muscle in his body at how much he’s holding back. Through a bitten lip, Izuku groans at the same time Kacchan bables out incredulously, “Deku’s inside me… de… de—ku’s… inside…” 

Holy fucking shit.

Izuku pulls out and begins ramming into Kacchan’s warm hole, gripping his hips and holding the barely-functioning Katsuki upright. He’s slamming into him, thighs straining as he pounds and pounds, legs flexing, trying to hit deeper with every thrust.

Katsuki is a puddle.

His hole is taking Izuku’s thick cock so fucking well. It’s like he’s made perfectly for him. Accepting each deep stroke and ass bouncing with each thrust. It’s better than he imagined.

Izuku grabs hold of him, wrapping one arm around his lower waist and one arm around his torso just under his arms. With each thrust, Izuku’s bear hug on Kacchan gets tighter until he’s barely toeing the ground. He’s basically fucking Katsuki onto his dick, holding him up with his strength alone and pulling him on and off his length. 

It’s so fucking warm and so fucking hot and everything is burning. Sweat is dripping down his neck. Kacchan’s barely holding on, limp in his hold, still moaning deku and more, more, more, more with each penetration.

Izuku takkes Katsuki and flips them both, so he’s now leaning his back against the side of the house. He leans and wraps both arms up under Kacchan’s knees. Scooping him up while still inside him, he folds Kacchan in his arms. 

Kacchan inhales sharply at the extremely lewd position, using his little strength to look over his shoulder and level Izuku with the most debauched look that could rival a scripted porn. His tears are streaming again, and now his tongue peeks out his open mouth, dripping spit. 

He's doing so well, holding on.

Izuku locks on Kacchan’s eyes, brow furrowed as he begins to fuck Katsuki onto his long thick cock in this new position. Kacchan leans his head back on Izuku’s shoulder as his gushing hole is moved up and down the thick shaft. Izuku meets Kacchan’s ass with thrusts up, curled over to get the right angle. His grip on Kacchan falters a bit as he adjusts, but with a few hard fucks at this new angle, Izuku sees stars forming in Kacchan’s eyes. He can tell that he’s nailing his prostrate right now. 

Izuku makes sure to thrust Katsuki down on his cock as deep as he can, saying, “Cum for me, good boy.”

Kacchan’s eyes screw shut, and he chokes out a cry as his untouched cock shoots ropes of cum. As Izuku continues bouncing him on his length as he cums, the thick fluid sprays up and everywhere, coating Katsuki’s stomach, chest, and even his face and hair.

Fuck, he must have been aching to release.

Izuku watches as the drops land and drip all over Kacchan’s tits. It’s only a few more deep thrusts until he’s skewering Kacchan as deep as he can on his cock, burying himself all the way in his ass, and pumping out what feels like a gallon of cum deep in his guts.

Izuku rides his high nestled deep inside Kacchan. They’re both twitching with aftershocks and the movements of the other hit like strums of a guitar, reverberating echoes of pleasure through one another as they come down. 

They’re both panting, Izuku’s still holding a folded Kacchan against his chest. And he’s still somehow hard inside him. 

When he begins to soften, he pulls out, and sets Kacchan down, one arm wraps back around him under his arms in case his legs are weak. They are, and Kacchan stumbles a bit as he tries to hold up his own weight again. Izuku kisses his shoulder, steadying him, and puts a finger against Kacchan’s red abused hole. Kacchan jumps at the contact, and Izuku whispers against his ear, “I want to stay in there just a bit longer.”

Kacchan inhales sharply and nods along, too dazed to really say or do anything.

Izuku feels his juices leaking out around his finger. He basks in the feeling before releasing his finger and watching how the moonlight catches his cum running down Kacchan’s leg, glistening. 

Izuku grabs a tissue from his pocket and wipes Kacchan’s ass and inner thighs clean, careful to be delicate and gentle.

Izuku spins Kacchan around, eager to look at him and clean his face. He’s still coming-to, scowl returning to his face but starry-eyed glaze not entirely faded. 

Izuku places a kiss to the tip of his nose just because. 

Kacchan’s eyes widen and his breath hitches. 

Suddenly, Izuku is being pulled into a soft wet kiss. He laps up Kacchan’s spit, slotting his bitten lips against his own. It’s short and sloppy and all they can muster. 

Still hazy, Izuku pulls down Kacchan’s skirt and shirt, making him decent enough to walk the rest of the way home. He zips up his jumpsuit and tucks the Meyers mask into the back pocket of his pants. 

Izuku starts to walk without a word, extending a hand for Kacchan to grab but he notices he isn’t moving. He looks back and sees him standing there, legs still trembling a bit. 

Izuku’s eyes soften, “Want me to carry you?”

Kacchan furrows his brows into the most precious pout. For some reason, he’s silent. Maybe he’s tired. Maybe he’s still drunk. Maybe he just can’t deal with the fact that he just got bent in half on Izuku Midoriya’s cock. 

Either way, Izuku leans down for Katsuki to jump up on his back. Izuku wraps his arms around Kacchan’s knees for the second time in one night. Fondness engulfs him as he walks out to the main road. Kacchan’s arms are wrapped around his neck, and he feels him rest his head on his shoulder. 

Izuku smirks to himself, remembering, “So... you like my back?”

Kacchan groans and nuzzles his cheek further into Izuku’s muscular shoulder. 

Izuku chuckles quietly, beginning to think about what villain he’s going to dress up as next year, deciding to plan it fully around whatever outfit he wants Katsuki in.

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