Down the Rabbit Hole

by sketchy_and_unreliable

Summary:

One of the dorm bathrooms at UA has a glory hole. This contributes to a downward spiral in Bakugou Katsuki's tentative sanity.

Notes:

Note: This takes place in a fictional realm where venereal disease does not exist. I don't advise replicating what is done in this fic, but if you do, please be careful and get tested regularly.

Chapter 1

The powder keg of insanity had been borne from two elements, one of which was frustration. The adjustment period to dorm life had been difficult, however little Katsuki led on. He had gone from being an only child, with his own space, bathroom, and relative peace (save for when the hag would barge in unannounced), to being surrounded on all sides with some of the most obnoxious people he had ever met. Privacy was nearly nonexistent, and while he wasn't shy, having to shower with a disgusting gaggle of other guys wasn't exactly preferable. For the sake of his (admittedly) slim patience, the teen quickly learned the best times to use communal areas to ensure to fewest fellow occupants, and found himself adhering to his self-imposed early bedtime moreso than usual, just so his idiotic classmates could bother him as little as possible. At the very least, they were smart enough to know that knocking on his door after 8pm for any reason would be very bad for their health.

It was one of those carefully scheduled moments of privacy when Katsuki saw it− reagent number two. His eyes randomly fell to the bathroom's stall wall and noticed a small hole, no more the width of a finger. It was roughly hip-height, and close enough to the door that one could comfortably stand in front of it without the toilet being in the way. Though the connection wasn't immediate, Katsuki understood that he was looking at an attempt at a glory hole. The aperture, gouged with what seemed to be a rather impressive knife, was far too small for its intended use, but it could well have been a work in progress. More than anything else, the teen was amused by how quickly something like that had managed to appear in a brand-new restroom, in a brand-new building. So much for UA students being cut from a different cloth.

Still, the image of the hole persisted even after he returned to his bedroom. Katsuki wasn't immune to sexual desire− he was a teenaged boy, after all, even he didn't behave like a few of the jackasses he knew. He hadn't given it much thought, since there were things far more important− like winning− to consider, but seeing that damned hole− something about it had grabbed hold in his head and, try as he might, Katsuki couldn't seem to shake it loose. So instead he took full advantage of the privacy of his locked bedroom and decided to let his imagination run its course.
This turned out to be a mistake.

Immediately, images flooded his mind; him, on his knees, taking disembodied cock after disembodied cock, until his throat was raw and a cocktail of fluids would dribble from his slack mouth onto the floor. They would be relentless, not caring about the comfort of whatever stranger was depraved enough to suck anonymous dick in a bathroom. They might call him things like "slut" and "cum dumpster," and how could he argue? Maybe some of them would demand that a mouth wasn't good enough. He imagined bracing his hands against the cold plaster-coated brick of the opposing wall, positioning himself with care−

He and his right hand contemplated this for some time.

But it was little more than a fantasy. The hero-in-training continued about his life as usual− taking classes, training hard, tolerating the company of some of the mob characters that had decided to surround him, and sticking to his well-regimented schedule for success.

But the thought of that hole never fully left his mind. It certainly didn't help when he saw that it had gotten bigger. It was about four centimeters in diameter the next time he saw it, and still rough around the edges. This time it seemed as though multiple tools were used, either by one determined person or the combined efforts of multiple people who had seen the small hole, like him, and had decided to contribute. It was almost big enough to be functional. Again, hypotheticals swirled around in Katsuki's head, and so he left as quickly as possible before any of them could take shape. For a moment, he felt a stab of anger, and decided to attribute it to the custodial staff who did an excellent job of cleaning but apparently couldn't be bothered to patch up a goddamned glory hole in a high school dormitory bathroom.
He went to bed a little earlier that night.

"You sure you're okay, man?" Kirishima was leaning over him across the coffee table, his wide puppy-dog expression bringing the explosive teen's blood to a simmer. They were in the dorm's common room, where Katsuki was helping the guy study out of the goodness of his heart, just to get this in return.

"The fuck is it to you?" Katsuki responded, which wasn't really an answer and in his opinion better for it. After hearing that and seeing the hideous expression he was surely making, a sensible person would back off. And so Kirishima continued.

"You just seem kinda distracted− I mean," the redhead quickly retracted in response to the book being leveled at his head, "For you. Like, you get this weird look sometimes like something's bothering you. And lately you snap at people for no reason."

"No I fuckin' don't," he calmly screamed in retort, quickly proving the other's point. Dammit.

Kirishima didn't even flinch. "Seriously, if you want to talk, I'm here. That's what friends are for."

That was the very last straw. Katsuki was damned if he'd put up with a "That's what friends are for" talk. Since when were they even friends? He gathered his textbook and notes, ignoring any and all shitty-haired protests, and stormed off to his room. Served him right for being nosy.

Still, he was right. Katsuki was distracted. Not enough to affect school work or hero training, but in the stray moments where his hands or brain wasn't occupied, his mind would wander.

Always back to that God. Damned. Hole.

It had gotten to the point that he had started to use a different stall, and then a different bathroom altogether. He had to keep himself from knowing if it had gotten bigger, if the sides had been smoothed or sealed in some way, if it had been used yet (for some reason, the last thought always pissed him off). At night, invariably, his fantasies turned to it, whispering all kinds of what-ifs? in his ear. He imagined his arms tied behind his back and his head affixed to the wall some way, absolutely powerless to avoid whatever would come through it. He imagined fingers toying with him, teasing him for the main event. He imagined hands fisted in his hair− ah, but that wouldn't work. Perhaps he'd just grab it himself. Maybe the stranger would tell him to, and he'd do it, even though they'd never know whether he did, he'd do whatever they wanted−

More than anything, it was the curiosity that was driving him crazy. He'd never had sex before. Why would he have? Things like that had nothing to do with him becoming the number one hero. If anything, it could hold him back. If people found out that he, Bakugou Katsuki, was letting just about anyone fuck him through a wall−

And that was exactly what made it so goddamn exciting.

It took more than a month since the first time he saw the glory hole to actually try to make use of it. Every little thing had to be perfect, so he could properly satisfy his curiosity and go on without regrets. He already knew the ideal times to enter without being seen, and had cased the area a few days beforehand for good measure. He had timed it to the night before a large exam so that he could emphasize (threaten) not to bother him after 8 pm, just to ensure that no one would come calling. He stored some supplies in the ceiling and most importantly, made sure that the hole was perfect.

When he had finally given in and checked on it, it had, as expected, increased in size. The aperture was, in Katsuki's amateur opinion, ideal, as it allowed clearance to even the most well-endowed, while still small enough to hide anyone's face. If it had been used yet, Katsuki pitied the ones to do it, since the jagged edges of the high-density plastic promised no happy ending. So he sealed the hole all the way around with duct tape, like his internet research had instructed.

After hours of intermittently studying and pretending to study (he had prepared for the exam far in advance, as any decent student should), evening had finally come. Everything was ready. His bedroom door was closed and locked. He had successfully made it to the bathroom without being seen. It was almost showtime, and Katsuki's heart pounded in his chest.

He had put a change of clothes in the space above the ceiling tiles− a black beanie, to conceal his most recognizable feature (on the off chance someone could see through the crack in the stall door), and his school uniform, to ensure no one would identify him by his clothes. The last object was a small paper sign with cellophane backing, the words OPEN FOR BUSINESS in careful kanji that did not match his handwriting. He would stick it to the wall on the other side.

Katsuki knew that it wasn't too late to back out− if, in the end, he couldn't go through with it, that would be that. He wasn't one to force himself into anything. But he also knew that he wouldn't back out. What he truly dreaded, above all else, was for all the anticipation and planning to come to absolutely nothing. But even if he got no takers the first time, he'd try it again another time, because Plus Ultra, goddammit. With resolve and after some last-minute floor-scrubbing, he posted the sign, laid his uniform jacket on the bathroom floor to protect his knees, and waited.

Roughly 20 minutes passed, which was fine, since he had already known he'd be waiting a while. After another 15, a few students of varying genders did their business and left, either not noticing or not caring that somebody was sitting on the floor of the stall closest to the door. Not once did the ball of nerves in Katsuki's stomach ever loosen, even as he quietly played games on his phone to pass the time.
It was about 50 minutes in when he got his first "customer."

He had no idea who it was, which was great since that was sort of the point. They stepped into the adjoining stall and paused. Even without hearing or seeing it, Katsuki could perfectly sense the double-take upon seeing the sign. They may have seen the hole before, but this was new. After a pregnant pause, the person knelt to inspect the passage further. Quickly, Katsuki pressed his palm to the hole, keeping them from peering through. The stranger stood again, and the room was so quiet that he could hear the other's soft exhale. Another pause, and Katsuki wondered what he'd do if they turned heel and left to get a teacher. Why hadn't he thought of that?

Then he heard the distinct noise of pants being unzipped. The legs were still facing the wall. This was actually happening. Katsuki felt...something...bump against the palm of his hand, and when he moved it aside, there- he, that was certainly a he, in terms of body at least− was.

It was the least confident Katsuki had ever felt in his life. Not just because the stranger's cock was larger than his own by a decent margin, but because he had no idea what to do with it. He had practiced, of course, but this was the real deal, and it seemed a little unfair to be faced with such a monster right at the very beginning. With no actual human input, he had no idea if the techniques he had attempted on his own fingers and various objects were any good.
But Bakugou Katsuki was anything but a quitter.

With no further hesitation, he took the length of the cock by the hand and gave it an experimental lick. The taste wasn't much to write home about− in fact, it bordered on unpleasant− but the shocked gasp from the other side of the wall spurred him on. He fed the tip into his mouth (cut, thankfully, or he'd really be lost) and sucked gently, slowly taking it deeper and letting himself adjust to the weight of it. Entirely unlike his fantasies, but fuck, you gotta start somewhere. The stranger seemed perfectly happy to let him take his time, and Katsuki felt slightly vindicated by the other's uneven breathing. Maybe he was worrying too much. He was primarily dealing with fellow teenagers, and odds were good this was this guy's first blowjob too. He persisted with more confidence, eventually swallowing deep enough that his lips kissed the duct tape on the wall. Somehow, on the first try, he had managed to deep-throat a huge cock. Practice aside, that was no small feat, and he allowed himself a little smugness even as he felt the back of his throat flutter and constrict against the intruding cockhead.

Still, it felt wrong. He wasn't there to show off his natural talent for sucking dick. For a moment, he simply sat there, sighing through his nose, wondering what exactly he was doing.

Then, without warning, the stranger's cock quickly withdrew. Katsuki had only a brief moment to be surprised when it returned with a vengeance, shoving itself halfway down his throat. Completely caught off guard, the blonde choked and gagged, convulsing but unwilling to retreat. He couldn't be certain, but had he not stuck it through all the way the first time?

Again, the dick retracted, and through his coughing Katsuki could hear a soft laugh.

"That's better," the guy hissed, "I was getting bored." The voice was familiar, but as a whisper it was too atonal to pick out. Not that he could pick the names of anyone he went to school with out of a line-up.

The cock fed through the hole once again, glistening with his spit, and now he was certain it didn't look that big the first time.

"You wanna try it again, sweetheart?" the voice mocked, and this, this was what Katsuki had been looking for. No one would dare say something like that to Bakugou Katsuki, and that was just fine, because that wasn't who he was at the moment. He was some random whore who was trying− and failing− to service this guy. This stranger, most likely a fellow student, who in any other circumstances would respect and fear him, was now the one slinging insults and calling the shots.

And it felt so. Goddamn. Good.

It didn't take long for Katsuki's head to feel fuzzy. He sucked and licked and kept his jaw relaxed for the guy to fuck into at his leisure, and even as his throat hurt and his jaw ached, he felt lighter than air, buoyed along by the occasional muttering of "take it. There's a good slut" and other lines so cheesily pornographic that they would have made him burst out laughing in any other context. Eventually even those faded to the background, until he heard the tail end of "-gonna swallow it? Tap once for yes," and he had already rapped his knuckles against the stall wall without even fully processing the words. The cock pulled back, and desperately Katsuki chased it, a whine escaping involuntarily. The laugh he got in response seemed to bloom inside of him. He was prompted to open wide and stick out his tongue, and did so happily. The now-familiar and welcome cockhead tapped against his tongue, once, twice, and Katsuki panted impatiently, knowing something important was supposed to happen next.

"You want it?" The voice jeered, and before he could answer, something hot was spilling into his mouth. He lapped it up eagerly, the taste reminding him of the cock that had treated him so well, and tried to suck at the head for more. After only a brief moment, the stranger's cock retreated entirely, and Katsuki distantly heard a zipper. It was over. Katsuki whined again, in a pitch he had never heard from himself before, and in a last-ditch effort, tried to stick his tongue through the hole. He heard a laugh once again, this time a little softer, and warm, calloused fingers petted over his tongue.

"You did a good job, sweetheart," the voice whispered warmly, then the adjoining stall door opened and echoing footsteps marked the stranger's exit. For a brief, insane moment, Katsuki wanted to burst out of the stall and follow, but it passed. And then he was alone.

Katsuki had never taken drugs, but he had to assume those few minutes of clearing his head as he sat in the bathroom stall was what it was like to come down from a high. All of the sudden, the pain in his throat and jaw weren't so distant anymore, he had the weirdest fucking taste in his mouth, and even with the protective cover of the jacket, his knees twinged and his joints protested from being in the same position on the hard floor for so long. After several long, shaking breaths, he stood changed back into his black hoodie and sweatpants, and shoved the tightly-folded uniform into the center pocket. With slight retroactive disgust, he wiped away the traces of drool around the hole and sweat-impressions of handprints against the wall. Once everything was cleaned and out of sight, he left the stall and looked in the bathroom mirror.

His face was an absolute mess. Sweaty strands of blond hair that had escaped the hat were plastered to his forehead, and when exactly had he started crying? Possibly for the first time that he could remember, his reflection was blotchy, leaky, and by all counts matched that of a prostitute that had been through the ringer.
Before making his careful exit, he entered the other stall (surprisingly untainted in any way) and grabbed the OPEN FOR BUSINESS sign.
He knew he would need it again.

Chapter 2: Chapter Two

Summary:

Katsuki's business is booming.

After just a few weeks, a legend began to circulate in hushed tones and furtive text messages about That One Bathroom.  It didn't happen very often− many a soul had entered the stall and waited in vain− but if you were lucky and there weren't many people around, you could enter That One Bathroom stall second-closest to the door and spot a sign saying "Open For Business." And then…

"And then what?"

Ashido, Kirishima, Sero, and Bakugou sat around the TV in the dorm common room, listening with varying levels of interest as Kaminari excitedly told his story, before Sero had interrupted.

"What do you mean, 'then what?'" the electric user huffed.  "And then the person on the other side does− ya know! Like, anything!"

"Why would anyone want to?" Ashido interjected, wrinkling her nose even while she continued to glare at the TV screen, jerking to the left as a pink cartoon creature failed to make a hairpin turn.

"Which, messing with a stranger's junk or putting your junk in a hole for a stranger to mess with?"  Sero responded, also not looking up, as a little green dinosaur in a go-kart navigated a series of moving fireballs with ease.  He was already on lap three, with Kaminari, Kirishima, and Ashido lagging far behind.

The pink hero shrugged.  "Both, really.  It just seems sort of gross.  You don't know where the other person's been. Finally, HAH!" she cried, as Birdo sailed over the starting line, marking her third and final lap.  Kirishima quickly followed, while the player in 12th place lamented his poor luck aloud; only to receive a harsh kick from the only one not playing.

"If you hate the game so goddamn much, why don't you let me play?  I'll even use the same car so you'll have no one but yourself to blame for your shit racing."

"No way!" Kaminari cried, scrambling further away from Bakugou's grabbing hands.  "Last time you played you destroyed the controller!"

"And you're too good at it, it's not fun!" Ashido quickly added.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, TOO GOOD?! YOU'RE JUST SCARED OF DECENT COMPETITION BECAUSE YOU CAN'T EVEN BEAT THE CPUS!! I'LL KILL YOU!!" Without looking, all four teens quickly and instinctively ducked away from the explosions emanating from their friend's hands.

Sero shook his head, even as he crossed the finish line. "And that's how we lost that controller."

"Fuck you, I replaced it, didn't I?"

Recognizing that his racing performance wasn't likely to improve, Kaminari decided to turn the conversation back around to something more interesting− and if it made the others lose focus while playing, so be it.

"But it's exciting, isn't it?  I mean if nothing else, you're getting− you know," the blond floundered, unwilling to be too crude in front of a lady.

"What, free blowjobs?" Ashido responded dismissively, not bothering to look away from the screen. 

"Y-yeah!  It's like, free sex without the emotional baggage!"

Sero snorted. "Some of us like emotional baggage, dude. It's called having a girlfriend."

Realizing he was getting nowhere with his companions on the floor, the electric teen turned to the two on the couch. "Bakugou, Kirishima, what do you guys think?"

The spiky redhead was still playing, but Denki had a feeling he wouldn't have made eye contact anyway.  "I mean...I don't know.  If someone is into that...that's fine? It's not super manly to get into people's sex lives," Kirishima meandered, while Bakugou ignored the question entirely in favor of scowling at the screen as Bowser finished at a measly fifth place.  In the background, the race finished, the game taking pity on Princess Peach's utter lack of forward progress.

"Wow, you're even worse at this than I thought!" Ashido teased, and that was enough to snap Denki back into focus.

"That was just a bad course, plus I was distracted! And I wanna change cars, mine had terrible handling!"

"Ooh, blame the track! Blame the car!"

Over the bickering of what course to pick next, no one heard the soft exchange of "you can play this time, if you want," and "shut up, shitty hair, just win. "

 

Dunce Face was an idiot about a lot of things, but on one score he was exactly right. It was exciting.

Over the past few weeks, Katsuki's "business" was booming. He never set up shop according to any particular schedule, but rather whenever it was convenient and he felt like doing it.  And of late, he had been feeling like doing it more and more, even as it became more and more difficult to sneak in and set up without being caught.  In just a month, he had experienced cocks of all different shapes, sizes, and colors, and he took pleasure in satisfying each and every one. With some of them, he had a decent idea of who they belonged to− the quick burst of static that came with the cumshot outed Kaminari immediately, and the thick shorter dick with cum that tasted almost exactly like frosting was probably that one sugar quirk guy. 

He was lucky that the hole was too tall for Grape Fuck and that Grape Fuck apparently had no problem-solving skills about how to reach. He was a whore, but even he had standards. He was also lucky that Deku was too much of a goody two shoes to use a glory hole, since that was a whole can of worms he refused to fucking open.

By far, though, his favorite dick had to be his first one. He hadn't known enough at the time to be discerning, but after sampling a variety of what male genitals (and one female− he still wasn't sure how she managed that) had to offer, he was certain it was the best. It had filled his mouth perfectly, turning his brain to mush when it fucked into his throat with earnest.  That "customer" had returned a couple of times since, and never failed to leave Katsuki a drooling, shaking mess with his relentless throatfucking and dirty talk. The voice was familiar, and the teen was sure if he really tried, he could figure out who it was. But he didn't want to. Anonymity was the point, after all.

"Bro?"

Katsuki jumped at the sudden noise, his eyes snapping open. Kirishima was standing next to his desk, leaned far over to meet his face head-on. Shit, when had class ended?

His classmate broke into an easy smile. 

"Heh, were you dozing off? I had a feeling since you didn't get up right away when we were dismissed. Who knew that even the great Bakugou Katsuki naps in class sometimes?" There was no real malice behind the words, but they pissed Katsuki off anyway.

"Who's napping?! Stop saying whatever you want about other people!! AND STOP LOOMING OVER ME LIKE THAT!!!"

Maybe it was an overreaction. He was trying to work on those. But every time that stupid-haired side character grinned at him like that, it sent his adrenaline into overdrive. Because of how annoying it was.

The annoying face got farther away from him, but didn't disappear. Instead, the person attached to it hefted his schoolbag and asked, "Wanna walk to class together?"

And he did. Just because they were both going to the same class anyway and it'd be stupid to walk separately.

 

 

Kirishima Eijirou was steadily losing his mind, and he had no one to blame but himself.

It had started a few months ago. He was in one of the dorm bathrooms and was taking longer than usual− maybe I should lay off the meat a little− and he'd forgotten to bring his phone. Before he even fully realized what he was doing, he had hardened one of his fingers to a sharpened edge and was scratching it into the stall wall next to him. Eijirou didn't approve of unneeded property damage− hero training had drilled that into him− but it was just so satisfying to feel the dense plastic tear away under his claw. By the time he had finished doing his business, the hole he'd scratched had broken through to the other side of the wall.

Well, whatever, he thought. It would get fixed or replaced eventually.

But it never did. And every time Eijirou went back to that bathroom, it was just a little bigger. He could fit a pinky through it, then a middle finger, then two fingers. Either several people had the same bad habit as him, or− 

Yeah, no. It was definitely a glory hole.

But that wasn't really the reason he was losing his mind.

It was his best friend. Bakugou Katsuki.

He'd always respected the other teen, even when he found him scary to borderline feral. Bakugou carried an easy sense of capability, as if his success was a foregone conclusion not worth thinking about. It was unbelievably manly, and something Eijirou strived for. When he actually got to know the person underneath the explosions and insults, those feelings of respect had morphed into something much harder to deal with. But that was okay. One little crush wasn't the end of the world. He could put those feelings aside and be the best classmate, friend, and steed for Bakugou as humanly possible.

Or at least he could until that stupid hole.

He hadn't known what it was at the time. All he knew was that suddenly, with no warning, his best friend had turned into a freaking sex maniac. It wasn't a subtle transition, either. One night Eijirou was scrolling through his phone, listening to the faint sounds of Bakugou's nightly calisthenics− and the next, he was subjected to at least an hour of his crush moaning like a goddamn pornstar. And it was practically every. Single. Night.

During the day, the blond acted mostly the same− maybe a little more distracted, a little more irritable− no one seemed to notice but Eijirou. The redhead had asked if he was okay, instead of asking why are you masturbating constantly and what can I do to make it stop , but even the gentle approach had been a failure. Lacking the courage to push further, Eijirou had no choice but to let it go. Maybe the guy had just had a very, very late sexual awakening.

And then, there was that One Night. That clicked all the puzzle pieces together, obvious enough that even an idiot like him could get it.

He hadn't known who it was at first, since the person was wearing the school uniform, but when he leaned down to look through the duct-taped hole, a hand on the other side blocked it.

A very sweaty hand. That smelled strongly of burnt sugar.

And that was the last fucking straw.

Eijirou was not very proud of the things that happened after that. He stuck his dick in his crush's face before confessing his feelings, going on a date, or working up the nerve for a kiss. Not that those things were even possible with someone like Bakugou, but it was still super unmanly.

And then Bakugou had licked his dick. Swallowed it down, deepthroated as if he'd taken a million cocks already. Eijirou's behavior was inexcusable, but really− could any sane person keep their cool if the person they liked did something like that? 

The rest had been a haze of blindly moving his hips, chasing more of the wet heat, drinking in every moan and depraved slurping sound from the other side of the wall. Bakugou was sucking cock like it was the best thing in the world, like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. The confident, intelligent, capable hero with a crazy strong quirk was on his knees in a bathroom stall, coming completely undone just from having Eijirou's dick in his mouth. The redhead didn't really remember the dirty things he said, but he'd never forget the way the other teen reacted, so he kept saying more and more, vague memories of porn and his fantasies fueling the endless stream of dirty nonsense. His feelings may have leaked through a little bit − he'd always imagined calling Bakugou cute names like 'sweetheart'. 

It was definitely unacceptable to come in his crush's mouth before even trying to hold his hand, but the poor slut seemed like he'd die without it.

Post-nut clarity had hit him like a truck when he finally left the bathroom. It was over.  Someone had probably used their quirk on his friend, and instead of trying to help, he let his dick make decisions for him. Bakugou would never forgive him. He'd be lucky if he got off with just a Howitzer to the face.

And then Bakugou acted exactly the same. Like nothing had happened at all. Eijirou was a guilty mess, obviously, but the blond didn't even seem to notice. He yelled, cracked rude jokes, and pretended to hate hanging out with Eijirou and their other classmates while secretly having fun. The only thing that was really different was that the nighttime noises had gotten even worse. And went on for much longer.

Either he had the best poker face on earth, or he had blown so many guys before Eijirou that they had all blended together,  making him so cum-stupid that he couldn't do things like identify voices. If the redhead was honest, he wasn't sure which idea turned him on more.

And that was why Kirishima Ejirou was steadily losing his mind.

He'd done it a couple more times, because how could he not? If everyone was getting their dick sucked (which seemed to be the case, if the rumors were anything to go by), why shouldn't he? Besides,  Bakugou always seemed so happy to have him again.

 Really, the weirdest part was that no one else seemed to have figured out who it was. Everyone had a different theory, and none of them involved the strong-willed and deadly Bakugou Katsuki, whose sweat smelled strongly of burnt sugar and whose voice was always hoarse nowadays, when before it was able to hold up even through constant screaming. It was for the best, ultimately, but it was funny that he had figured it out when even the smartest people in school hadn't. Maybe it was because he knew his friend that well.

The hero stared at the cold gray wall, at the increasingly stained and wrinkled OPEN FOR BUSINESS sign, and hopelessly fantasized about seeing his crush's scowling face transformed into a mess of tears, snot, drool, and cum. Or better yet, a sincere smile.

Eijirou really wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

Katsuki really wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

Like an addict who needed more for the same high, Katsuki was getting more and more frustrated with the limits of his little "business." Lubricant was taking up a substantial amount of his budget from the incessant fingering done before, during, and after each session. His wrist was sore, which made quirk training harder, but he'd be damned if he ever let it show. And the heady  idea of getting his mouth and ass filled at the same time kept him from slowing down or stopping. Maybe if he moved one stall over, made a hole in the other wall, could he…no, his body wasn't long enough, it wouldn't reach both sides…

 

"I got a gift for you, sweetheart," the stranger said one night, as Katsuki desperately tried to scoop his brain cells back together. 

"Another one?" he mumbled, still too out of it to realize he probably shouldn't have spoken aloud. He was still focused on the first gift and how he could still taste it on his lips and gums.

The stranger barked a short laugh. "Yes, another one. Here." A familiar-looking shoe nudged a black box underneath the stall wall to Katsuki's side. He was too curious and cum-high  to worry about this being some kind of trap, so he opened it readily.

It was a red dildo, made of something like silicone or rubber, with thick veins running up the sides and a heavy suction cup at the bottom. In Katsuki's (now expert) opinion, it was almost the exact shape and size of the stranger's cock.

He didn't know whether it was drool or semen dripping from his mouth at the sight.

Before he could actually voice his gratitude, however, the stranger had left with nothing but a cheeky "hope you like it."

Katsuki closed up shop early that night.

 

After so many nights of stretching himself on his fingers, he was no stranger to penetration, but that didn't change the fact that this thing was big . He was only halfway down when he already felt stuffed to the brim, unable to take any more, but sheer stubbornness and that insane sense of addiction pushed him further. It should have hurt− and it did− but the overwhelming sense of fullness, the way the silicon length dragged against his prostate on the way down…it was unbelievable. When he finally sank all the way down to the base, he simply sat and took in the feeling, letting his body adjust.

Come on, sweetheart. If you wanna feel good, you're gonna have to put in the work.

The fantasy came naturally− it wasn't the first time Katsuki had imagined that voice egging him on− but having a dick for a prop made it hit so much harder. He sucked in a breath as his own cock started to fill.

It's too big, I'm not ready, he'd complain. But the man would just laugh.

Too big? You're a free-use whore. Nothing's too big for you. Now hurry up and make me come, there's a line forming.

And there would be: a horde of faceless people, all jeering at him to put on a good show.

Slowly, Katsuki moved up and down on the toy, just by a centimeter or two, working to keep his breathing even.

There we go. We knew you had it in you, didn't we boys? The others cheered and offered mock applause. Come on, keep going. Look at that, he's touching his dick. Shouldn't you focus on getting me off? Selfish bitch.

"Please…please let me…" he whispered, bouncing on the dick more earnestly now.

Don't cry, sweetheart. I'll let you. Just because you look cute like that, trying so hard to come like a boy when you have a hole like this. It's hilarious.

Even as his thighs started to burn, the pleasure was building higher and higher in his stomach. He pulled off completely, poured more lube on the toy, and gave it all he got. The feeling of such a massive cock violently working in and out of his body was way too much− so he kept going.

He's really working for it now! Hey, you know I'm not paying you, right? Your only reward at the end is gonna be my cum− but that's better than money for someone like you, huh? Couldn't ask for a better whore.

Katsuki felt like he might cry. His hand was a blur on his dick, the toy grinding hard against his prostate on every pass in and out. He felt like a spring, coiling tighter, tighter− 

Come on, sweetheart. Come for me. Through his teary eyes, he saw it− Kirishima smiling so fondly up at him, gripping his hips with hardened hands and driving his cock in relentlessly.

Katsuki came so hard he saw stars.

And on the other side of the shared bedroom wall, Kirishima did the same.

Notes:

The big reveal! The mystery guy was Kirishima! Who could have seen that coming, right?

Update: Halfway through chapter 3, my hyperfixation moved and I straight up can't force myself to care about these characters anymore. At least I feel like this story can end here fairly neatly. Sorry y'all