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Denki saw him from across the crowded ballroom. The mask hid most of his face, but he’d know that jawline anywhere. How many hours had he spent, at UA, spacing out at his desk as he watched Shinsou Hitoshi? How many screenshots of Brainwash had he saved to his phone since he went pro? 

He knew his wide shoulders, and he knew how he liked to stand aloof, on any situation’s furthest edge. He knew his hair, of course. He could conjure his voice in his head, deep and slow and teasing. But Denki doubted Hitoshi knew a thing about him. 

He’d never seemed to notice Denki pining for him in school, and that focus worked out for him. Hitoshi was in the top five. Denki was still just a sidekick, a nobody. Hitoshi crossed his broad arms, leaning back against a marble pillar with a scowl. Denki whined under his breath. 

“What are you crying about—Oh,” Kiri said, following Denki’s gaze. Then he grinned. “Uh oh.”

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” Denki said. “Like, oh god .”  

“That’s appropriate though, right? I mean, dude, he’s dressed like one.”

Denki just moaned, miserable. To see Hitoshi here after so many years. Life was unfair. 

“How long has it been since you talked to him?”

Denki tugged on the ends of his hair. “Well, I ran into him at the grocery in Hanta’s neighborhood that one time like two years ago, but I was with Hanta, and I got all flustered cause he’s so fucking big up close, and he called me Denki and touched my arm but then Hanta was there and Hitoshi kind of seemed disappointed or I was just imagining it but I haven’t seen him since.” Denki stopped to breathe, then sucked from his drink, feeling his face heat just at the memory of Hitoshi's calloused fingers gentle on his arm, his deep purple eyes when he said Hey, I’ve been thinking about you .

Kiri nodded through the whole story, with a sage expression, as if he already knew. He did know. Denki still talked about it, daily. I’ve been thinking about you. What did that even mean ? “That was then, my friend. This is now. It's the perfect venue for your conquest.” 

“Mm, maybe.” Okay, yes. It was. It was a sex party. But Denki couldn’t think with Hitoshi right there. That had always been his problem—he turned into a fucking idiot. And Hitoshi had never noticed him before, what difference would hiding behind a mask make? He was still short and skinny and blond. Hitoshi probably liked people who were dark and cool like him, or famous pro heroes. Not twinky Denki Chargebolt from high school. 

But he wanted Hitoshi and always had. A foggy kind of plan had taken root, despite the odds. An insane plan, probably. A dumb one, no question. But he’d thought about Hitoshi a lot, for years, and he thought he knew, better than he had as a dreamy teenager, what Hitoshi might like. He could try it, at least, and slink away unknown in his mask if it flopped. He bounced on the balls of his feet. “I think I'm really gonna go for it,” he said, voice an octave higher with tension.

“Right on !" Kiri loved this kind of thing. "But hold up. Let’s make sure you’re all bone-ready.” He tipped Denki’s chin up with a finger, tongue pushed against his cheek as he looked him over. He adjusted Denki’s mask up, had him whirl in a circle, frowning over his costume until he adjusted a strip of fabric just so. “Cutie cat,” he said, pleased. “ Very fuckable.”   

“Duh,” Denki said. All while Kiri fussed over him, he couldn’t hold still. Couldn’t stop stealing glances. Couldn’t stop bouncing. Not until Kiri gave him a kiss on the cheek of his mask and a much too-hard spank and said, “Go get your man, bro.” 

Denki downed his drink and nodded with purpose, turning to slip through the crowd. The masquerade smeared around him like wet fingerpaint. He only had eyes for Hitoshi. 


Hitoshi was dissociating, having parked himself against a pillar on the outskirts of Shouto’s fuck party. He could hear Aizawa's voice in his head, deeply unimpressed by Hitoshi’s decision to come. He hadn’t necessarily wanted to come, but the costumes and masks were alright. 

He liked his own costume. He’d loved Anubis as a kid. He’d always thought good judgment was one of his best traits. And yet, he’d thought Shouto invited him here for a weird, costumed fuck.

That's what all this was—the masks and the skin and the sumptuous setting—one big orgy-to-be. If that was the case, he was getting stood up. The number two hero was late to his own party, as far as Hitoshi could tell. There hadn’t been an awed hush at his entrance, which was usually how it went when Shouto stalked into a room wearing something priceless. Sensei’s voice in his head said not to waste time on wishful thinking. Shouto didn’t want Hitoshi. Shouto didn't even want his own million dollar masquerade. 

“Master! I found you!” In a flash of gold and white, a boy in a cat mask pushed through the crowd, falling into Hitoshi’s arms. Hitoshi’s back hit the pillar from the force of him, then he was trapped. And this boy was nearly naked and warm and he was pressing his entire lithe, little body tight against Hitoshi, babbling. “I was so scared, everybody here is a freak . Master, don’t leave me alone again, promise? They all were touching me, especially here—” Hitoshi’s hand was pulled limp from his side to be smacked against a chubby ass only half-covered by gauzy, white fabric. Even in his shock Hitoshi’s hand stuck there like it had been glued.

“I don’t think I’m your, uh—” Most of his blood had left his brain the moment the little blond cat pressed his body that tight against Hitoshi’s. He hid his face against Hitoshi’s chest, clinging to him and sniffling, slim shoulders jerking. All Hitoshi could see of him was his bright hair, but he could feel every inch of him, pierced tits rubbing against his chest. Hitoshi looked around the room for help. The sea of masks revealed nothing. The cat rutted his hips forward, rubbing himself against Hitoshi’s leg. Hitoshi’s mind went all to static. Someone at this function was a lucky fucking bastard. Hitoshi couldn't even get his date to show up. “Hey,” Hitoshi tried again, and the boy’s head lifted to meet his eyes. “Are you lost?” 

“Master, if you say you don’t know me, I’m seriously gonna cry. You promised me I was your favorite kitten, ‘member?” 

There was a loaded, sly look for a moment in the golden eyes behind the cat mask. A playful smile curled his pretty mouth. Taken all together, Hitoshi realized that this was some pervy game the boy meant for him and not a sexy mix-up meant for some other—his cock twitched—some other—he felt his mouth start to water—master. 

He had to bite his lip to keep from saying “Oh,” out loud and really spoiling the fun. Even if he’d been strung along by Shouto, the fuck party seemed suddenly worth his time. “Don’t be silly. I was just kidding,” he said, testing this theory, and the boy’s sudden, wide smile confirmed it. Holy fuck. He slid his other hand to cat’s little ass and squeezed. The cat giggled and pressed even closer. Hitoshi looked around once more, half-expecting someone to shout Surprise! This was too close to Hitoshi’s own fantasies. Even the hair was right. 

He dipped his head down to speak in the cat’s ear, lowering his voice, “So who touched my favorite kitten? Why don't you show me where they are? You know I’m real possessive of my things.” 

The boy sucked in a breath and pulled back, eyes going wide behind his mask. Hitoshi felt him shudder in his arms, before he seemed to blink away his shock and put on his pout again, resting his fingers with their sharp acrylic claws on his chest. It made Hitoshi wonder, had the kitten been at this all night and found no one to play with him? He felt the cool, bare skin under his hands, the chubby cheeks filling his palms. It seemed unlikely. It seemed less likely he’d been picked from the crowd for a lapful of this

But the cat piped up before his suspicions could mount, scratching a claw down Hitoshi’s chest just hard enough to leave a red mark behind. “Um. I don’t think I should tell you, Master. I don’t wanna get them in trouble.”

Hitoshi said, “Hm.” 

“You’re not mad at me, are you? I was all by myself. I couldn’t help it. When you’re not there I—”

“Shh.” Hitoshi lifted a hand to pet the kitten’s hair, so soft and fluffy. He didn’t expect him to fall silent in an instant, or to look up at him with shining eyes, like he was the only man in the room. Hitoshi felt drunk on it. He’d had fans throw themselves at him before but this was something different. Darker and more playful. Each needy Master fell on his ears like notes from a harp. He could toy with him forever, putting on a frown for the kitten’s sake as he shook his head sadly. “This is why I didn’t want a little, blond kitten like you. You’re too pretty.”

The cat squirmed, dropping his eyelashes shyly. “You think I’m pretty, Master?”

Hitoshi’s eyes caught on a black streak tucked away under the boy’s blond hair.

But the cat was watching his face with that look in his eyes, waiting, with his fingers twisted in Hitoshi’s costume like he couldn’t stand up without him. "You know you're pretty," Hitoshi said.  

"But I want you to say it. Everything means more when you say it, Master."

"Let me see you," Hitoshi led the cat back a step to really look. The cat put a hand on his hip, an arrogant tilt to his chin that said he really did know what he looked like—bare body smeared with glitter and the fabric at his hips an afterthought. His mask’s cat nose turned up cutely. His lips shined pink and wet. Kaminari Denki had a black streak in his hair, Hitoshi thought, feeling dizzy. 

The cat shifted his weight on his hips, impatient. “Say you like me, Master. Don’t be so cold.” 

“Shut up, and turn around,” Hitoshi said. When the cat—when Denki —pushed out his bottom lip instead, Hitoshi twirled a shaky finger. “Be a good boy for me.” 


Denki didn’t know how he was still on his feet. He felt light-headed, but as long as Hitoshi was playing with him he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even catch his breath. It was working. Hitoshi’s hands were all over him. His voice was commanding and filthy and making Denki’s cock strain where he’d trapped it in tight silk panties for the night. 

He turned around to face the crowd, jumping when he felt Hitoshi’s fingers trace up his spine to wrap around the back of his neck and squeeze. Denki saw how the party had started to tip. This wasn’t his first, but the scenery never failed to shock his senses. It felt like Hitoshi was making him watch as cocks were sucked and asses spanked over expensive laps. Denki pressed himself back against Hitoshi, looking for the comfort of his muscular frame. Facing the crowd he felt exposed, like someone might come and join them, when he desperately needed his master all to himself.  

Then Hitoshi’s lips were against Denki’s ear, nipping at him. “Didn’t I tell you already that you’re my favorite?” Denki moaned pathetically, his every high school dream coming true. Hitoshi laughed low in his ear. “You’re too spoiled.” 

“I’m only spoiled ‘cause of you, Master.” 

“What a bad kitten.”

“It’s not my fault. I just want your attention.”

“You’ve got it,” Hitoshi said. “Denki.” 

“Hitoshi—” Before Denki could turn his head to explain, Hitoshi’s hand was clamped over his mouth. 

He slid his middle finger back and forth, over his lips. “Suck on it,” was all he said. Denki’s heart raced, but he couldn’t disobey. He parted his lips as Hitoshi pushed his fingertip inside, licking at it as sweetly as he could. He had to prove himself, now that Hitoshi knew the truth. He couldn’t run away now. 

“I think I should punish you, don’t you?” Hitoshi said. His arm held tight around Denki’s waist, and his finger pushed deeper into Denki’s mouth. He was trapped completely. Squirming only made Hitoshi hold him tighter. “Since you’re such a spoiled brat, why don’t you tell your master what you deserve?”

Denki whined around his finger, pulling off to turn his head. Looking over his shoulder, he could see Hitoshi’s dark eyes behind his mask, burning. “I didn’t mean for you to find out—”

“Not about that, kitten. I meant all those people you let touch you. I thought you belonged to me.” 

“I-I do,” Denki said. His voice cracked. “I always have.” 

"How are you going to prove it? Or are you all talk?"


Denki took his hand, trying to lead him off somewhere, but Hitoshi didn’t move, pulling him back. “Master, please—” Denki whined. He raised up on his tiptoes to kitten-lick Hitoshi’s jaw. “Come with me. I’ll prove it, I promise.” 

“Prove it here.” Hitoshi rucked the fabric up over Denki’s ass. A few heads turned nearby, a bull, a bird, another little cat. Denki didn’t notice, licking his neck with his soft tongue, one hand raking up and down Hitoshi’s chest, bangles clinking together. “I only want your eyes on me,” Hitoshi warned him, finding the string of his panties and pulling it aside. More masks turned their way. “No teasing other masters. I know what you’re like. Just look at me, Denki.” 

“That’s all I’ve ever done,” Denki said. He tilted his face up for a kiss. Hitoshi slipped his finger between his cheeks as he bent his head to catch his lips. Denki moaned into his mouth. He was already sticky with lube, hole teased open. 

Hitoshi shut his eyes. Oh, no. He was perfect. The image of Denki fucking himself ready for the masquerade, so pretty in his makeup, spread out on his bed at home made his head spin. “What a good kitten,” Hitoshi said. 

“I try to be, Master.” 

“Everyone’s watching you,” Hitoshi said. It was truer than Denki knew. They weren’t the only couple in this state—some were much further—but they were drawing spectators.

Denki never took his eyes off Hitoshi, though. “They’re not watching me , Master.” 

It was cute. He’d always been so cute. Hitoshi pushed his finger deep inside him, watching Denki’s pretty mouth fall open. “You wanted this at UA, didn’t you?” 

Denki opened one eye, “Mm.” 

“What’d you want, with your little crush, Denki? Did you want me to fuck you so everyone knew?”

“That’s not nice.”

“Did you want to get fucked in the common room?”

“Who says I didn’t?” 

Hitoshi spun him to trap him against the pillar, trapping his lips as well. He’d never liked to kiss. It always seemed too close, but Denki’s mouth was irresistible. He’d been so focused back then, on rising to the top of the class, proving he belonged, he never allowed himself to have fun. But he’d watched Denki, too. As focused as he was, he’d thought about him all the time. “I liked you, too, you know.”

“What?” Denki ground against Hitoshi’s leg, humping it as Hitoshi fingered him. “Say it again—”

“I liked you. I wanted to—I wanted to fuck you.” 

“Master,” Denki hid his face against Hitoshi’s chest, his own chest rising and falling with hard breaths. “Don’t lie about it.” 

“Stupid cat.” Hitoshi turned him to face the pillar. “I don’t lie.” 


Denki could hear other couples, groups of people, fucking around them. He could hear voices reacting to Hitoshi’s every move just the way Denki would react if he had been watching. Big black dog and strong daddy and rip that kitty up, handsome . He could see from the corner of his eyes the thick colors of the masquerade. But he’d promised Hitoshi to look at him, only, so that’s what he did. He twisted his neck, watching him even as Hitoshi pulled his cock out, rubbing it through the mess Denki had made between his cheeks. He didn’t look away even when Hitoshi pushed in, stretching him wide and going deep. The crowd groaned. Denki’s eyes almost squeezed shut but he gasped and kept them open. He was babbling, “Master, Master—” He wanted it—he wanted to be Hitoshi’s pet, a doll he could fuck, a pretty thing at Hitoshi’s beck and call. It would be a good life, to belong to him.

Hitoshi’s lips found his. Denki twisted a hand in his hair. “Tell me you’re okay,” Hitoshi murmured against his ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth. 

Denki whined, which wasn’t an answer, but he couldn’t think. “So big.” 

“You like it?”

“Yes, Master.” 

“Face the pillar.” 

Denki didn’t want to look away, but he had to obey him. Hitoshi pinned his wrists over his head and fucked him so hard he started to get loud, crying for it shamelessly even with so many people watching them. “P-put me under your quirk,” Denki heard himself begging. 

“You’ve got to earn that, kitten,” Hitoshi growled in his ear. 

"M-master!” Denki came untouched, thighs shaking, his come painting the cold marble. Hitoshi held him up, crowding him close against the pillar as he drove in. He pulled free to come on Denki’s ass, the crowd around them—Denki could swear through his haze—was clapping. But by the time either of them moved from where they’d collapsed—Denki against the pillar, Hitoshi against Denki—the masks had all turned away to find something new. 

Hitoshi’s breath puffed hot on the bare skin of Denki’s back. He turned with a weak kind of whimper to gather up Hitoshi’s head and pull it to his chest, Hitoshi bent awkward but pliant, letting Denki hold him tight, his hair soft under Denki’s chin. He said, “Do you want to come home with me?” 

“Yes, Master,” Denki said.

“We’ll do this again, without the masks. I’ll treat you right, Denki.” 

“Yes,” Denki said. "Yes, Hitoshi." He didn’t let him go, just clung to Hitoshi like a child. Tears were welling up in his eyes, and he didn’t want Hitoshi to see him cry. These parties were always so overwhelming.