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Today had been a half day, which meant all of his students had gotten out around noon and instructors could expect to leave maybe an hour tops after them. Of course. But then Aizawa had wanted to chat about the midterm exam results while Izuku sprayed a scent neutraliser around the teacher’s lounge to make it easier on the custodial crew, which added ten minutes after the final dismissal, and then Aizawa forgot his coffee mug on Izuku’s desk, so then he was just going to drop it off at the sink–totally just drop it off, not even wash it!– but everyone and their mother had left their mugs and lunch dishes and who else knows what stacked a meter high out of the communal sink. So ten minutes and then forty minutes of scrubbing burnt rice out of the bottom of Present Mic’s Hello Kitty rice cooker, and then. Okay. So this was definitely his fault. But! When he was packing his briefcase a mere hour after the final dismissal, his last test stack fell out and the orange paper clip holding it together decided to hold nothing together, so he bent down to pick it up. And. Yeah. Looking at each individual student’s filled out papers, it filled his stomach with the harsh acid of anxiety, to see each answer so nicely filled in but without the appropriate x/100 and a All Might or Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight sticker in the top right corner… Izuku basically had to grade them! Even if his students weren’t expecting their scores for another month, he might as well get a head start on it, right?! So. Yeah. Ten minutes then forty minutes then grading until his eyes went blurry.
Today was a half day, which of course means Izuku is watching the six o’clock train pull into the station with the dry glaze his eyes always get when he’s been staring at messy teenage kanji for too long. Ugh.
The station is also packed because everyone who doesn’t work at UA gets off at this time, anyway. Double Ugh.
And the amount of people getting off the train is also ludicrous, which means Izuku has to stand with his back against the wall near the ticket booth because Kacchan, as great of a roommate as he is otherwise, doesn’t appreciate Izuku coming home with any kind of scent on him besides his own. Which makes no sense! Izuku is an alpha. Kacchan is an alpha. It should be inherent that Kacchan would like it if Izuku smelled less alpha, but of course not. Of course not. And there’s so many people here that he’s probably going to end up having to ride in the alpha car, which always smells bad. And Kacchan is going to have to suffer the scent of strangers, anyway. Ugh Ugh Ugh.
People mill out of the doors, some chatting with each other while others walk with a briskness that means their journey didn’t end at the train ride. A mother holds her children’s hands as they wait to board; twins with matching outfits that he’s definitely going to tell Kacchan about later because they’re just so cute!
His phone lights up in his hand as he checks it; no new messages, besides a two-hour old one from Kacchan, When are you getting home, shitnerd?!? It makes him smile. Kacchan is such a thoughtful roommate, always checking in to see if he needs to make dinner for Izuku, too! He usually does, even if Izuku forgets to respond, like he did now. Actually, he always does. Kacchan is such a good housemate!
Someone nudges his shoulder, making him almost drop his phone; Izuku brings it close to his chest and glances over. A teenager with grown-out split-dyed hair that was probably done to look like Todoroki’s; they’re not looking at him at all, their eyes focused near the train doors.
Somebody causing trouble. It’s immediately obvious by the homemade villain get-up they have on, a purple onesie that has lines stitched across it that come together to form a messy broken heart at their chest. And by the way the rest of the commuters have formed a wary two-meter no-man’s land around them as they ramble on. As Izuku gently shoulders through the crowd, he can start to catch what they’re screaming about.
“Society has forgotten the lines nature has drawn for us! For too long we have ignored the innate classes we belong to, falsely preaching about equality and mind over body!”
A wince comes natually, his face pinching up. They’re either going to start yelling about gender or subgender, and he doesn’t really want to listen to either. But he also doesn’t have probable cause for a citizen’s arrest, yet, either. Quadruple Ugh.
“I, Truthbringer the Great, am here to change this! Today ushers in a new era of sincerity and raw power, something the heros preach so strongly about but never bring to fruition! Alphas will once again be at the top of the social order, with omegas and betas beneath them, where they belong!” They’ve been waving their hands in the air this entire time, but as their speech gets more heated, the air has started to shimmer around their fingertips like a heatwave.
Izuku breaks the no-man’s land, setting his briefcase on the ground as he clears his throat, “By Musutafu City Code 8.96B: Unregulated quirk use during peak commuting hours, I’m performing an arrest on you,” He blinks, his brain stuttering. It has been such a long day. “Truthbringer the Great.”
The villain swings around, their fingers seeming like they’re melting together from whatever their quirk is doing to the air around them. “Ah! A hero!”
“A concerned citizen.” Izuku corrects, “You’re disrupting the peace and obstructing pedestrian traffic. I’m asking you to come calmly.”
The spike of a ghost of a quirk pricks at his nape as Truthbringer steps closer. Izuku watches him with wary eyes. Phantom Danger Sense or his gut, this has to mean something.
Shit. Truthbringer smells bad. The moment they’re even semiclose to Izuku, it’s like a wave of body odor just appeared. The stench is so bad that Izuku can’t pick up on any kind of a scent. Or maybe this is a scent? No, it has to be the smell of someone who hasn’t showered in a week; sure, unpleasant scents exist, but never the kind that would draw a gag reaction from anyone.
Izuku sighs, lifting his fists up. Kacchan’s gonna kill him.
Truthbringer swings first; a wave of stink rushing towards Izuku. He grabs Truthbringer’s wrist and yanks down, ignoring the popping of a shoulder and the shriek Truthbringer lets out as he throws them to the ground. His knee moves on its own, stabbing into Truthbringer’s back and keeping them smushed into the concrete as Izuku frisks them. No weapons, which is good.
“Stop squirming.”
“You work for a corrupt system!”
“I’m a high school teacher.” Keeping one hand on Truthbringer’s neck, Izuku reaches for his briefcase, which always has a pair of quirk cancellers stashed in an inner pocket.
Truthbringer wriggles under his hand.
He growls.
Izuku freezes, hand on the latch of his brieface. When has Midoriya Izuku, good citizen according to the law, messy roommate according to somebody, docile alpha according to everybody ever, growled at someone???
Izuku readjusts. Clicks the latch and flicks open one side, grabs the cuffs.
Truthbringer tries to buck him off, weakly spasming under him which is. Gross. Super gross. It makes their greasy hair get under his hand on their nape and it’s just. The texture makes his entire body give an involuntary disgust-shiver and his scent let out sour.
Oh. Interesting. Lack of pheromone control. It’s been a long day, though, so that can be expected, right? Whatever. He just needs to get the quirk cancellers on and get a pro here. Speaking of,
“Hey! Sir in the raincoat, I need you to call the police.” He makes eye contact, holding it for the necessary twenty seconds that public emergency response training has taught him as his free thumb clicks the cuffs open.
The man is tapping at his phone when Truthbringer bucks again. Izuku knees them harder with a half a mind, glancing back to see where he should direct the cuffs.
Crap.
A stinky, unwashed palm makes a flinging motion from it’s place on the ground, more of the heat wave air radiating up, into Izuku’s face.
He gulps in air right before it hits yet Truthbringer looks up at him with a smugness that turns his stomach almost as much as the slimy hair underneath his hand.
“You’re an alpha, right? You should agree with me, then. At least you will, once you let your natural instincts out. There’s no use holding your breath like that, though.”
He holds it anyway, because this is a villain who could totally be lying, using his elbow to push Truthbringer’s neck down as his hands claw at their wrists and his stomach definitely doesn’t feel like it’s going to retch up his lunch. He snaps the quirk cancelling cuffs in place and stands up, one foot keeping Truthbringer in the dirt.
Oh wow that made him nauseous. He sways in place on weak knees, vision swimming. He has to gasp in air, it’s been too long, and when he does–
Truthbringer smells bad underneath him. Disgusting and putrid and he crouches over them, bending down to grip at their throat,
“Show everyone!” The garbage underneath his hands shrieks, more vile air leaving their mouth, “Lemme go and show why alphas should be leading us!”
He’s not going to use his fangs, fuck no, not for something that smells too rotten to even be a meal, so his hands tighten, nails digging red into the crap’s neck. He’s been growling this entire time, a killing sound that tears through his throat.
“What the fuck!” The garbage squirms under him and he tightens his grip. An omega comes close, hands up, saying something. He snaps his teeth, not a threat, a warning, they shouldn’t come near the reek he’s holding down, it isn’t safe.
The omega backs away and he nods, thanking. Now for the trash. His fingers tighten–
“Midoriya-kun, get off of them.” The voice tinges familiar in the back of his mind but its scent is alpha, musky with a clean edge to it. His growl gets louder, because this alpha is a failure. There are so many omegas and betas and young alphas around them and now this alpha decides to step in? When it’s finally safe? What a coward. “I think he’s gone feral, we’re gonna need to sedate him and someone’s going to have to call Bakugou-san.”
“Deku-kun,” Another familiar, an omega that steps in front of him, not within the perimeter of his catch but still close enough that he can see her gentle, smiling face. It quiets his growl by barely a decibel. Until she tries to step closer and he lets it out louder, a warning, “You caught the villain, but we need you to let go now.”
“Get this psycho alpha shit off of me!” The garbage shrieks. He lifts them up by their nape and smacks down, stunning them against the ground and the omega’s smile wavers.
“Uravity, I need you to try to use your scent to calm him down enough so I can get closer.”
“Okay, Shoto-kun.” The omega nods and the air around her fills with. It should be pleasant. This is something the back of his brain notes. The scent she lets out as she tries to ease towards him should be pleasant. Soft and slightly flowery.
He hates it. Hates the sweetness of it and the lack of something it’ll never have. It curls his lip up as he bares his fangs.
She isn’t smiling anymore as her toe gets a milimeter closer to him.
He juts forward, not to actually bite but to give a warning, snapping his teeth–
The catch tries to wriggle out from under him, he tightens his hands, turns back to them, teeth bared. The skin of his neck is exposed and then something sharp pricks him, sinking into the side of his throat.
Izuku tries to move away from it, but the sting stays.
Fog fills his ears as his eyelids weigh heavy. His catch gets out from him easily, but he hears them getting slammed into the ground barely two meters away by the omega.
He tottters for a moment, before he falls. Somebody catches him before he hits the ground, but he can’t see them, not before his eyelids close.
The stark white room is his. It’s been his since he woke up, his scent seeping out of him deep and thick. The ventilation is supposed to be good; he can hear it in the way the two vents on opposite walls gasp in and out air; so he has to be better, has to rub his cheek and neck and wrists and cock against every centimeter of each wall as he traverses his territory.
His territory that is way too small. Each pass around it takes a minute, maybe a minute and a half. Sometimes more when his dick rubs against a piece of wall in just the right way and his hips stutter, bring him flush to it as more wetness leaks out of him, first onto the pouch of his boxer and now the front of his slacks in a dark patch.
“Haaaah.” He breathes out, sweat gluing his chest through his dress shirt to the wall as he humps mindlessly, trying to get more purchase, trying to leave the perfect mark that I’m here! I’m ready to mate!
A buzzing that the back of his brain calls an intercom, “Damn, you look like shit.”
He blinks through his eyelashes, his cock twitching stickily in his pants as he pants, “K’cchan?”
Crackling, “No shit.”
“K’cchan.” He ruts dumbly, insides of his wrists slippery against the wall as his pheromones let out more, stronger. He can feel a drop of something sliding down the side of his neck and has no idea if it’s sweat or gland oil.
“They said you were a brat for Icyhot and Round Cheeks, that right?”
“Hhn.” He lets his eyes close, lets the gruff words wrap around him as his hips follow their natural rhythm, pressing as if into the voice speaking them.
“Holy fuck, Izuku.”
Izuku. He rumbles high and puplike. That’s him! Kacchan is talking to him! Yes! Kacchan!
The front of his slacks darken as he spurts out more pre.
The buzzing clicks off, and a minute later, the only door in the room opens behind him.
Izuku turns, growling, lips peeled back as he bares his teeth and his scent lets out strong and defensive.
Annoyed cinnamon, sharp like he’d just stuck his nose into a spice jar and snorted it, surrounds him, burns his nose, his throat. He keens, knees facing the door as he slumps and the side of his neck stretches thin and bared. Kacchan is here. Kacchan is here and Kacchan is an alpha and Kacchan is the strongest alpha and Izuku needs to be good, let Kacchan know, be good, be a good alpha for the alpha.
Footsteps closing the distance and sharp cinnamon turning soft, a mild flavor as Izuku juts his chin more, exposes the softness of his throat better. If his cock presses more insistently against his slacks, that’s but an act of nature.
“They said I couldn’t come in unless I used the shitty speaker first. Shit, yer rumbling so loud you sound like a cat. Or some knotdrunk omega.”
His scent sours at the implication that he’s better suited as something other than what he is, but he keeps his neck open to the air, keeps his knees spread against the floor to give the proper signalling that he’s ready, that he’s fertile and his cock is straining against his pants.
“But you sure stank up this room like an alpha. Holy shit, Izuku.”
Fingers glide through his hair, a soft Chill Being uttered from above him as he starts a growl. It wasn’t a threat, the growl. He’s not entirely sure why he even did. Kacchan is the perfect alpha, the perfect everything, and Izuku would never want to challenge that or argue any other way. He wants to be good for Kacchan, to be the best alpha and maybe if he does well enough, Kacchan might let him lick him open.
“What are you muttering down there? How are you even coherent enough to keep up yer nerd shit? Reports said that you got hit pretty hard with that freaky quirk.”
He’s able to find some friction through the fabric of his slacks rubbing against him as he grinds against the air. It’s not enough, nowhere near enough, painfully not enough that he whines, but it’s all he can do. He’s already presented for his Kacchan, shown his knot and dick the best he could and marked this stupid room with his claim, so this is all he can get until Kacchan decides to let him mount him or reject his courtship.
“Quit suffocating me with yer shitty stink.”
He’s saturated with the entire spice cupboard and an underlying musk from Kacchan, so strong it makes his throat burn and his cock ache and he juts out his neck more, twisting his body to present the side of it to Kacchan the best he can. His whine is inevitable, filling the air.
A soft laugh above him and the fingers start to tangle, untangle, weave through his hair, “Have to say, I ain’t complaining about yer alpha turning you into whatever shit this is. Could use more of this when you try to talk back to me.”
He whimpers, hips slowing in the air as disappointment curls in the fuzz of his brain. He tries to be good for Kacchan, he really does! Always! It’s just. Sometimes. Kacchan says silly things like, Izuku, go to bed you’ve been grading for sixteen hours. Or You need to go to Recovery Girl if yer gonna spar with yer brats this hard. And sometimes Kacchan isn’t always right!
Another wave of spice and his brain muddles. Of course Kacchan is always right. What was he thinking about? Ah. Yes. His dick really hurts in his pants. A constant throbbing, heavy thing that burns with the need to press in, in, into anything until he’s knotted, until he’s ensured his claim.
He whines, thrusting into the air between him and Kacchan’s shins as he hurts.
“Hey, chill. We’ll find you a nice, warm onahole or an omega that’ll take pity on yer gross dick and you’ll be all sorted out, got it?”
The memory of the sweet scent from earlier makes him wrinkle his nose and snap his teeth.
Cinnamon turns into a sharp correction at his reaction, like he’d really just tried to challenge Kacchan, before it evens into something else. Something he’s never smelled before. Hot and sharp, like a tea that hasn’t had any cream or sugar added to it. “What was that for?”
“K’cchan,” He breathes out, “Wan’ K’cchan.”
A stiffening of the fingers in his hair, surprise coloring the scent surrounding him, “Izuku.”
“K’cchan!” He agrees, his hands reaching out blind. They latch onto the warm sweatshirt of another and he follows them eagerly, chest pressing against warm thighs as he thrusts forward, his crotch finally hitting something, knobby fingers choking the fabric as he grinds short, messily, not letting any part of him pull away as he searches for friction.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“Mm.” He agrees, drool and venom seeping past his lips and soaking the front of Kacchan’s sweatshirt as he lets his body do what it wants. Which right now is an attempt to breed Kacchan’s left calf.
“This. I was supposed to. Damage control.” Kacchan chokes out above him, his fingers limp, dead things in Izuku’s curls. He nuzzles up into them to try to get a reaction and they listen, even if but instinctually, tightening in his hair. “Yer gonna freak when you get out of this.”
“K’cchan.” He burbles, more venom spilling out as it buzzes against his tongue.
“Izuku.” A faint recitation of his name as Kacchan stares blindly at the opposite wall. “Why me? You were aggressive with Round Cheeks and Icyhot earlier, why not me? Had yer rut not started yet or some shit?”
“K’cchan,” He pleads, the chafe of still being clothed burning against his cock. The obvious solution would be to sink into Kacchan’s cute, slick butthole until they were both scenting the air with pleasure, but Kacchan seems to be too focused on. Icyhot? Round Cheeks? Names that ring a bell but mean nothing when he’s fucking the best leg ever.
“Fuck. I gotta-” Kacchan turns away, air kissing Izuku’s groin.
He growls. Loud and warning, eyes locked on Kacchan.
Kacchan growls back, louder, stronger. He is a greater alpha than Izuku will ever be. Izuku wants nothing more than whatever Kacchan wants him to do. He wants to plug Kacchan with his knot and let Kacchan dominate him, bite him, scent over any hint of his own scent and judge the catches Izuku brings him and tell him to do anything and Izuku will do it. He wants to give Kacchan his everything.
“Chill.”
He shivers at the command, full-bodied, ankles knocking against the floor.
“You want to fuck me? Is that why yer being so weird?”
“Yes! Yeah! Kacchan!” He nods eagerly, venom drooling down his chin. Kacchan’s thumb swipes it away from his face and he leans into the touch, eyelids fluttering.
“We need lube.”
“Nuh.” He claws at Kacchan’s pants when he tries to step away. Kacchan can’t leave. No. Not until Izuku has filled him. Not until he’s given Kacchan his everything.
“Whatever this rut-shit is fucking yer brain with, I ain’t an omega and I can’t slick.”
“Don’t. Mm. Don’t need to.”
“The fuck?! Of course we need lube, idiot.”
His hands choke Kacchan’s little waist, holding him in place as he tries to go to the door.
“K’cchan’s gotta trust me.”
“Trust that yer not gonna tear me open? No way, idiot.”
He growls, again not a threat, as he lets go of one side of Kacchan, that hand gliding, trying to undo his belt and when that doesn’t work, Izuku snaps it, yanks his slacks down. Buttons sing across the floor as they scatter. His dick is stuck to his boxers, damp.
“What the fuck.” A laugh like a bell above him, honest and sweet, “Y’already cum, virgin?”
“Mm. No.” He fishes his dick out, hissing through his teeth when his knuckles brush against his swollen, needy knot while his other hand pulls his boxers down, tugging them to the middle of his thighs. “See? Wet enough.”
He strokes, once, lightly, tugging back his foreskin to show Kacchan his twitching, flushed tip that oozes out more pre, watery and perfect for sliding into any hole.
“The fuck? Why do you have so much?”
“Mm. Doctor says it’s normal.”
“No the fuck it’s not normal. It doesn’t look like I’ve nutted just from getting a hard-on, nerd. Haven’t seen that on anybody.”
“M’ sub…mm.” He stumbles on the words, mind searching as his hand holds him. It feels so good, even if he’s not moving. A warm cradle that he could fuck into if he wanted to. He won’t. That’s for Kacchan, of course. But the temptation remains. “Mm. Class. Subclass.”
“You mean yer alpha?”
“Nuh. Subclass, Kacchan.”
“Yeah, I have no idea what that means.”
“Like. Um. Dominant. Submissive. Prime.”
“Thought that shit was made up.”
“Mm-mm. ‘S real, K’cchan. Doctor said so.”
“So what’s yers? What makes you a…” Kacchan glares down at Izuku’s dick in a way that makes him twitch more and will definitely be analyzed when he doesn’t feel like he’s gonna go insane if he doesn’t get his cock in Kacchan. “Water fountain?”
He groans and winces, “Supposed ta make breeding easier. Tha’s what he said. Primes ‘re supposed ta be better at making it feel good. Higher pregnancy rates if both parties finish. Mm.” He rocks, barely, not even a full thrust into his hand.
Kacchan’s hand tightens in his hair and he freezes, a taut bow.
“Yer saying yer a prime alpha.” It’s not a question, but he answers anyway. He wants Kacchan to be pleased with him. And also to fuck Kacchan. But the former and the latter are not mutually exclusive.
“Yeah?”
“Then why’re you acting all… submissive with me?”
“K’cchan.”
“That ain’t an answer.”
“Yuh-huh. It is. K’cchan’s the greatest alpha ever. Never gonna be like K’cchan.”
“The fuck? They talk about shit like you in the history books, idiot! Primes were supposed to be able to get anybody to do anything! Primes lead packs.”
“Mm.”
“The extras.” Kacchan breathes out, his grip loose on Izuku’s head, “They get sick all the time now. Icyhot. Round Cheeks. Glasses. That ‘cuz yer always in yer stupid classroom? Is that it?”
“Pr’bably. But.” He searches for the right name, “Tod’r’ki’s an alpha. They don’t need me.”
“The pack chooses the leader, idiot. If Todoroki ain’t it, he ain’t it, we learned that shit when we were in diapers, Izuku.”
They must have. He was part of Kacchan’s pack, after all. He followed Kacchan and his friends everywhere and they had so many fun adventures. And then when Kacchan got mad at him, he wasn’t part of it anymore. And when he wasn’t part of it, maybe the other kids got sick, too, and their quirks weren’t as strong. But. That could have just been because Kacchan wasn’t a fully developed alpha yet and couldn’t lead properly.
Kacchan is at the top of his game, now, for sure. Even if he won’t let Izuku top him for some silly reason.
“K’cchan? Sex?”
“Fuck. You can’t. Say yes or no or any of that shit like this.”
He whimpers, bracing his soles on the floor to tilt his hips up, show Kacchan how hard he is, how ready he is, how much he needs Kacchan. His dick bobs between them, heavy and dark and shining with pre.
“Fuck. Fine!” Kacchan lets go of him, steps away. A whine starts in Izuku’s throat but is quickly cut off by Kacchan tugging his shorts off. “But once this is over and yer brain’s back to normal, we ain’t doing that shitty dance where you act like you haven’t been drooling over my ass since high school.”
Izuku is not a good dancer, but he has to agree with Kacchan that he has wanted his cute butt for. Ever? Probably forever. And it’s facing him, as Kacchan leans down to tug his shorts off of his ankles.
Kacchan’s asshole twitches at him, its rim puffy and the area around it shaved clean.
Izuku swallows a buzzing cocktail of drool and venom.
His hand slicks up his cock, once, a collection, before he presses the pads of his fingers against Kacchan.
Kacchan tenses up, still bent over, his back arching beautifully in his freezing, “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“K’cchan. Inside?”
“Carefully.” Kacchan allows, settling onto his hands and knees. Not quite a presentation, but exactly what Izuku needs to enter his alpha. Well, to enter his Kacchan safely and painlessly, but he wouldn’t want to feel the heat of Kacchan in any other way.
There’s the slighest resistance before his index slips into the first knuckle, Kacchan’s hole a choking, pulsing thing around him. He presses his middle, slippery with his own pre, against the twitching rim.
“Slowly.”
He is slow. He is slow as Kacchan swallows him easily, as his two fingers find a sheathe in the searing heat of Kacchan’s rectum and Izuku’s cock drools onto the floor. He can see Kacchan’s cock dangling through twitching legs, the tip barely visible past his cute, trimmed balls and its clearly hard, flushed a pretty pink.
Kacchan likes this. He thinks it with a shiver as he presses his ring finger against the stretched pucker, curling it to get his pad to rub against it.
Kacchan tenses at the touch, muscles in his thighs flexing.
Izuku lets out his scent, happy, pleased, painfully horny.
Kacchan relaxes and so does his hole, Izuku’s finger sliding in, bullying past clenching walls until he’s three deep, his pinky bending to allow space as the rest of his fingers crowd Kacchan’s cute little asshole. Well. It’s less little, now. Certainly stretched. Perfect.
“Why are you sniffling back there?”
“K’cchan’s so warm. Perfect. Cute.” He pumps his fingers back and forth as he sniffles, as his hips rock with his wrist, his leaking, heavy cock jutting into the air. “‘Nother one?”
“The fuck?!” Kacchan glares over his cute shoulder, the one with the explosion-shaped scar, “Fuck no. Not yet, idiot. Get me used to three of yer thick-as-shit fingers first.”
He tries. He goes slow, at first, like Kacchan told him to earlier. And then Kacchan’s pants turn breathier, faster, and his fingers speed up. And then Kacchan is rocking back against him, and his forearm is burning as he’s jackknifing his fingers in and out, in and out, Kacchan’s hole making a lewd shlick shlick shlick as Kacchan hisses,
“Stroke me off.”
Kacchan’s cock is almost as hot as his hole, a leaking, twitching thing that jolts when Izuku’s hand wraps around it. It fits in his fist and Kacchan grunts and rocks into him, then back, against his fingers, again, again. His scent is heavy, needy, filling Izuku’s head with haze and pulsing more pre from his tip.
Kacchan twitches in front of him, hole clenching tight around his fingers, dick spurting pearly cum across the floor, muscled back arching as Kacchan breathes, Haaaahhhhh.
And then he goes slack, easy, following Izuku’s hands smoothly as he stands up on his knees and pulls Kacchan back against him. His cockhead slips, once, too wet, against Kacchan’s twitching, gaping hole, and then his hands are tightening on Kacchan’s waist– he can’t use his hands to line himself up, he doesn’t know why, it feels wrong, feels bad to even try–and he’s pushing forward as he pushes Kacchan back.
He breathes out, lays across Kacchan’s still twitching back as he makes the first breach. Kacchan is so warm. Hotter against the sensitive skin of his cock than he felt against his fingers. An easy slide, at first, against the first centimeter, then two, then Izuku’s entire tip, rim sucking him in so well, so good.
“Nngh. K’cchan, deeper?”
“Fuck, yer bigger than I thought. Slow. Slow.” Kacchan reiterates the word as he rocks back against Izuku, punching a gasp out of him as more perfect, tight heat takes him in.
Izuku’s hips are an awkward angle, too much of him still in the open air even as his chest is sweat-glued to Kacchan’s back, so he pushes, pushes, pushes. More of Kacchan yields, more of Kacchan accepts him.
“Mm.” He sobs, half of him humping into Kacchan as tears drip onto Kacchan’s cute, perfect nape, “K’cchan feels so good. K’cchan’s so tight, so wet, so hot.”
“That’s yer freaky dick that’s wet, idiot.”
“So hot, so hot, K’cchan sugoi.” He pants, tongue laving at the back of Kacchan’s neck.
“Die.” Kacchan hisses even as he pushes back, gets Izuku through more of the resistance.
When Izuku’s knot kisses Kacchan’s rim, he cums. A natural response. To fill Kacchan with his love, to gasp it out, L’ve you, L’ve you, L’ve you, as goodness lights across every inch of his skin, as his cock spurts into Kacchan, as his hips rock a frantic rhythm to try to get it all into Kacchan. To fill his alpha and get him to scent the air happy and to claim Izuku with his fangs.
“Fucking what?! Why isn’t yer knot popped? Shit. That’s a lot, Izuku.”
“L’ve you. L’ve K’cchan’s asshole. K’cchan’s colon. K’cchan’s cute anal canal.” He babbles, hips still stupidly rutting as he shoots more into Kacchan.
“Shut up and pop yer knot already!” Kacchan grunts, pushing back against the uninflated skin that will become Izuku’s knot. When the time is right, of course. Kacchan hasn’t cum yet, from Izuku’s dick. He needs to feel good, be as fertile as possible before Izuku can lock them together. It still feels good, though. Kacchan is so nice!
“The fuck is wrong with yer brain.” Kacchan laughs, not mean even when his words are, exasperated. “You need me to jizz? That what yer muttering on about?”
“Yuh-huh!”
“Then make me already.”
An easy challenge. Izuku humps into Kacchan, hard enough to make the muscles in his thighs, his ass, his hips burn as he yanks Kacchan back onto him. They might move across the floor, Izuku’s not sure. Kacchan feels so good and Kacchan’s making such pretty noises underneath him and Kacchan is the best.
Kacchan’s arms give out and he falls. Izuku follows, twisting them onto their sides, thrusting up into Kacchan as Kacchan’s hands reach back, clutching at Izuku’s neck, his hair, tightening, yanking sweet pain across his scalp, across his nape. The scrape of Kacchan’s nails is almost enough to feel like a bite so Izuku growls, happy, even as he continues to thrust, grind, pull back, thrust.
Kacchan joins his growls and they morph into a rumble, together. Two happy alphas, fucking each other into the concrete slick with their sweat.
Izuku’s dick is more sensitive than his scarred fingers. An easy fact. So he feels the beginning. Kacchan tightening against him. Kacchan’s breathing quickening against his fingers, the skin above his ribs fluttering against the pads of them. He sees Kacchan’s dick drool a string of pre that flows down its length, a short journey as it bobs in the air angrily above them, swaying with each of Izuku’s thrusts. He sees Kacchan’s knot swell, just above his neatly trimmed pubes.
Kacchan ejaculates before his cute knot pops. Izuku shouldn’t have been surprised, the signs were there, but still he is. As Kacchan’s cum shoots gracefully in the air, a broken arch with how hard Izuku is thrusting up into him, splattering across Kacchan’s chest, hitting Izuku’s chin hooked on a beautiful, golden shoulder. It tastes salty when Izuku’s tongue darts out to savor it.
Kacchan is tight. Choking. All of him, tightening across Izuku. It’s only natural that Izuku cums, too, pulling Kacchan flush against him, sinking his half-inflated knot into him, past the perfect rim, and his pops, too. His fangs chatter, not a challenge, just instinct, against Kacchan’s nape as more of his cum fills Kacchan, the pressure of its volume against the top of his knot. A strange feeling that makes him spurt more.
He floats for who knows how long, everything buzzing pleasantly as his knot is cradled somewhere safe and his dick follows its natural path of spurting weak dredges of cum into something warm. He’ll keep ejaculating in small pulses, timed to his heartbeat and then slower, until his knot goes down. Patterns he’s known for so long that they can only be soothing.
A hand guides him by the wrist, wraps his fingers around warm, swollen skin, squeezes. A simple command, easy to follow even when thinking isn’t something he can do right now. He can listen, just to this, and so his fingers wrap against the hot ball of something as his lower half continues to stupidly twitch against Kacchan.
It’s Kacchan’s knot, he knows, when his brain starts to come back.
And then his brain starts to come back.
“Ohmygosh! Kacchan! Ohmygosh!” Izuku squeals, slapping his hands across his face. When he instinctively tries to draw back from the warm body he’s pressed against hard, he can’t. Of course. Because he’s knotted to his best friend, his roommate, the person who knows him the best and has known him the longest out of maybe anyone besides his mom. And who knows him intimately now, apparently, if the warm press of Kacchan’s asscheeks against his groin is anything to go by, “Kacchan! I’m so sorry!”
“Can it.” A sweet-smelling palm weakly slaps his face, “Do you wanna fuck me?”
“Kacchan, I’m sorry–”
“Izuku.”
“Yes! But–”
“Then it’s fine. My ass hurts and so does my knot ‘cause you moved yer stupid nerd hand, so let’s handle that before you freak out about something we’ve both wanted since forever.”
“Oh-okay!” He nods, which makes Kacchan growl because he’s too expressive with it and it jostles both of their bodies. And their tie.
My knot. Izuku does not think as he reaches across Kacchan’s torso, takes the heat of Kacchan’s knot back in his hand. Interesting; Kacchan’s stopped ejaculating, his spend splattered across the both of them, but his knot remains hard and barely throbbing against Izuku. Izuku always keeps cumming, in the very literal sense since the initial pleasure is gone and now it’s just a mechanical twitch of his penis every minute or two after he’s successfully knotted…Usually his onahole. Actually, always his onahole. His hand gets too sore if he tries to hold his knot for as long as he needs to. But. Onaholes aside, Kacchan is not cumming anymore, definitely coming down from it if the slowing of his heartbeat against Izuku’s chest is anything to go by. Is that normal? Kacchan said he wasn’t a prime, so maybe it’s only primes that do what Izuku does? That would be normal. But. This requires further research.
“What are you muttering about back there?” Kacchan nudges backwards with his shoulder.
“Can I feel your knot?”
“You already are, idiot.”
“No, like…” Words escape him, so he squeezes, lightly, once.
Kacchan tenses under him, a fully-body freeze as his knot pulses, once, feverishly in his fist. “Fuck. Fine. Just. ‘M still sensitive. Be careful.”
“Always.” He presses a kiss to the back of Kacchan’s shoulder before it strikes him, Is that the first time I’ve kissed Kacchan?! I’m kissing Kacchan!!! And tries to be very normal about this as he squeezes, again, using his thumb to feel the underside of Kacchan’s knot.
A band of extra skin that wraps around the base of the penis and inflates upon successful ejaculation. A textbook definition that Izuku has used for his own anatomy since the awkward, sweaty sexual education of junior high. He’s always seen his knot as an ugly, flesh-colored donut-thing that’s just an extra hassle whenever he needs to get off.
Kacchan’s knot is far from ugly. Flushed the same color his tip was, back when he was still hard–So Kacchan goes flaccid while his knot is popped? How interesting!–and soft against Izuku’s palm. There’s no way Kacchan moisturizes his genitals, but the skin of it whispers sweetness into his hand as his thumb continues its quest for knowledge.
And when it twitches! Such a cute reaction that he’s able to replicate again by thumbing over a vein on the top of it. Wow, the throbbing of it is so gentle! Just a little reminder of it’s existence; when Izuku’s knotted his onahole, his makes the entire silicone pulse. Kacchan’s is polite in his hand, a juxtaposition of the person it belongs to.
“Izuku.” Kacchan breathes.
He squeezes, and it pulses harder, flushes deeper. Hm. Maybe his massaging of it is improving the circulation down there? That would make sense, for sure.
He squeezes, holds the pressure as his thumb plays with the vein. Kacchan’s is so small in his hand! Kacchan must be such a good lover, never overly stretching his partners out or causing them excess pain. Izuku is jealous. Not that he’s had any lovers, but the idea of putting his knot near anyone has always prickled his stomach with anxiety.
“Fuuuuhck.”
Right! Kacchan is so brave! And honestly quite talented, with how well his anus was able to take Izuku’s knot.
“Kacchan, thank you!”
Kacchan looks back at him with glassy eyes, his cheeks flushed, venom dripping down his fangs, breath panting out of his parted lips and brushing against Izuku’s face.
“I’m sure you weren’t expecting to have to help me out with a, ah, situation like this, and I really appreciate you doing so! It’s very brave!” He’s very excited, happy even that Kacchan was willing to share his body with Izuku like this, so he’s not being as careful as he promised, squeezing harder on Kacchan’s knot than before. Kacchan’s not telling him to stop between his fast panting, though, so that has to be a good sign, right? “Kacchan is so courageous!”
An audible gulping, a wince flashing across Kacchan’s as he must swallow some of that venom shining his lips, “Y-yeah?”
“Yes! And smart! Kacchan used our preexisting friendship to make sure I wouldn’t hurt him! Your ability to strategize has become so powerful the past few years!”
“Izuku.” Kacchan gasps, twitching against his knot. Oh, Kacchan’s knot sure is pulsing now! Wow! “‘M hot?”
“What? Of course, Kacchan! Kacchan is so handsome! Kacchan has the prettiest eyes, it always makes me sad when Kacchan has to wear sunglasses and I can’t see them. And Kacchan’s biceps! I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve always wondered what they’d feel like against my fangs!”
Kacchan is rocking against his knot, which. Is kind of distracting. Maybe he wants it to deflate? But the stimulation isn’t helping with that issue. But. Kacchan asked him a question! Izuku needs to keep answering!
“Fuck, Kacchan. Your, um, your pecs, too. I, nngh, really like th-oh-ose. D’you think maybe I could touch them sometime? If you’re not, mm, uncomfortable with it?”
Kacchan takes his free hand, directs his fingers over one squishy pec. Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.
Izuku squeezes Kacchan’s chest.
Fuck. He moans in tandem to Kacchan’s–
Kacchan’s moaning?
“Iz’ku.” Kacchan gasps wetly, tongue glistening under the light,
“K’cchan.” He’s rocking back, too, now, an unavoidable thing when Kacchan is squeezing so tight around him and Kacchan’s cute knot feels so good in his hand and–
Kacchan gasps, shuddering, his now-hard dick spitting across the floor as his knot throbs in Izuku’s hand. His load is much less, a short line that scatters across the concrete as he trembles against Izuku’s chest, gasps like a prayer, Iz’ku Iz’ku Iz’ku.
Izuku cums again. He knows he does, because the feeling of it uncoils in his stomach and his knot pulses, but it’s so much, too much feeling as his fangs chatter together and his body shakes and Kacchan is so fucking tight that.
He gets kind of dumb. More so than what he’s used to, when he’s clinging to his pillow in a choking hug as his hips twitch through the aftershocks and his onahole consumes him. His brain is gone, melted through his ears.
His knot must go down; it tends to not last long after his second or third swelling, which makes sense since in terms of mating, the first time should usually be enough. He feels safe, nestled inside the furnace of Kacchan, taking in the scent of Kacchan’s nape with quiet breaths and a muddled acceptance that this is where he’s supposed to be.
Kacchan slides away from him and he keens, searching hands looking for any warmth. The heat returns, wrapping around him, pulling him in and he nuzzles, finding a safe place and inhaling the pleasant mix of cinnamon and musk. It anchors him, to huff in deep breaths of it as thought is lost and his body feels weightless.
When fingers play in his curls, he leans into it, a rumble filling the room. His. Of course. A natural response. The cinnamon turns sweeter with this, happy. He tangles easily into another’s limbs and nuzzles into the safe place and his whole body vibrates with his rumble that’s joined by another. This is how he stays, head an empty shell until:
“This shitty ass floor is killing my back.”
“Mm.” He nuzzles back into the place. Ah. Kacchan’s neck. Kacchan’s throat. Mm. He loves Kacchan’s throat.
“And yer gross knot did a number of my ass. Not gonna be able to sit right for days. Damn. At least yer still you when you go knothead.”
“Me?” His voice asks.
“Stupidly selfless.” Kacchan’s voice says to the cieling. “Never jizzed three times with another person before. Holy shit, Izuku. Way better than yer dildo.”
“My–what?!” Izuku’s never put anything beyond a finger anywhere near his anus. Which. Was a horrible experience. One time was definitely enough. A dildo, though?! Where has that been hiding in his room?!
“Deku Dildo.” Kacchan says this conversationally, the same way he’d say, Pass the butter, “But off-brand, ‘cuz all the shit being sold by creeps online is from when you were still active. Which. Ugh. Wanted yer dick when we were seventeen but I do NOT want yer seventeen year-old dick now. Had to custom-order the shit I got.” Kacchan laughs, “Still got the measurements wrong, though. Holy shit. Holy shit.”
“Um.” He blinks, eyelashes brushing against Kacchan’s throat. Kacchan shivers. “Does that mean…?”
“That I’m in love with you? No shit, Sherlock.”
He swallows. Kacchan feels really nice, hugging him like this, even if it’s on hard flooring. Now that the closeness is there, shared between them…Izuku doesn’t know if he can live without it.
“That okay?” Kacchan says it very unKacchanlike, uncertainty painting his voice.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” He accidentally headbumps Kacchan’s chin when he sits up, but that’s unavoidable. These words need to be said, “Kacchan, I love you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah!” He nods and. Wow. Kacchan’s mouth is so handsome. A perfect cupid’s bow and a plush bottom lip, shining with Kacchan’s venom. “Ah, Kacchan?”
“We ain’t going again.”
“No, not that.” He looks away, blush coloring his cheeks, “Can I kiss you?”
A hand wraps around his nape, pulling. He submits into, merely nature, pulled down to his alpha. And when his alpha’s lips part, when they brush against his, he meets them eagerly, slotting into place against who he belongs.