Archive of Our Own

Kacchan’s side of the bed is empty when he wakes up, all rumpled sheets and pretty much the entire duvet. Kacchan denies it at every accusation, but he does hog the blanket at night. That’s fine. Izuku’s much happier being able to wrap his whole body around a swaddled-Kacchan shape in the night than overheat under the slightly too-thick comforter that came with Kacchan when he moved into Izuku’s apartment six months ago.

He noses into the comforter, humming, inhaling until his chest presses against the mattress. Freshly brewed chai and a musky undertone.

Izuku frowns. Presses his nose deeper, until the cotton of the comforter almost plugs his nostrils.

 Hm. Yep. Underneath the spice that follows Kacchan wherever he goes is a distinct bitterness. Harsh and animal and very, very alpha. 

Izuku sits back on his ankles, tapping his chin. Kacchan has a very pleasant scent. This is fact. Kacchan is also in the prime of his life. The kind of prime that the Greeks used to sculpt, long and dramatic and so distinctly alive in the flex of his muscles. Appearance wise, it’s not hard to guess what Kacchan’s subgender is. Kacchan is an alpha. Fact. But his pheromones have always been fairly tame, definitely belonging to a not-beta but never leaning towards alphan or omegan. It’s just the scent of a healthy twenty-something. Yes, the best in the world and the only one Izuku would be able to track whatever the distance, but it’s rarely this strong.

“Kacchan hasn’t been wearing scent patches lately, but it’s not like he’s been super overpowering with it. Although I’m not the best judge of this, granted, but I haven’t seen anybody else be bothered by it. So his gland production has been normal. Glands. Hm. His scent glands must be more sensitive and that’s why he’s not applying. Yeah, that makes sense.” 

Kacchan’s squishmallow, Rupi, listens to him from the nightstand. 

Sensitive glands. 

“Kacchan’s been extra negative about me biting, too. All pissy. Normally he doesn’t care, and in certain cases, he even has a positive response. Like White Day! Remember?”

Rupi does not answer. If Rupi had any kind of sentience, he wouldn’t have a clue about what went on on White Day. Even if Kacchan is disturbingly nonchalant about the topic, Izuku always ensures anything with a face in their bedroom isn’t facing them when they make love. So. The squishmallow is merely a listener to Izuku’s speculations.

 Whatever. Izuku’s going to keep thinking aloud because every time his mouth opens, he can taste Kacchan. 

Especially right now.

“His scent is extraordinarily potent, too. But this is very new; nobody in the meeting yesterday mentioned it and they definitely would have mentioned it if Kacchan smelled this strong.” And does Kacchan smell strong. Young and healthy, powerful, ready to bare his fangs and tear the throat of anybody who tries to make him submit.

Izuku swallows down drool and shakes himself, blinking his eyes. They’d started to glaze. “Hm. Maybe it’s me? But no. I’m in the middle of my cycle, so it’s not me getting all weird and sensitive like in prerut or the antemasen phase. It’s definitely something’s off with Kacchan. Mm. He smells really good. He should definitely scent me before we leave for work. Mhm.” He slides out of bed, giving Rupi a thanking pat as he shuffles to the door. 

Kacchan is cooking breakfast in the kitchen; he does his usual grunt and shrug-off when Izuku hugs him from behind but lets Izuku keep holding him like he always does. He still scents the air, though, filling the room with the sharp peppery undertones his scent gets when he’s concentrating. 

It’s so much that it makes Izuku’s head swim, his smile stretching lazily across his face as he nuzzles the sea urchin-shaped scar on Kacchan’s shoulder. “Good morning, Kacchan.”

“Nerd.” Kacchan grunts, triceps flexing against Izuku’s cheek as he flips the eggs.

“Kacchan smells good.” 

No verbal response, but the black pepper eases into a pleased cinnamon sugar. 

“Does Kacchan wanna take the train together today?”

“Obviously. Go sit yer ass down. Did you put their essays in yer backpack?”

“Of course I did!”

“Don’t be a smartass. You left them on yer desk last month.” The scraping of a butter knife against toast, “Yer getting off at Naboo.”

“No way! Tatooin is way closer to UA. Why would I go all the way to Naboo?”

“Maybe I want you to drop me off at work.” Kacchan’s right bicep pops out, right there and big, as he leans over to pass Izuku his portion. It’s smooth and hairless, just pure muscle right under the skin.

He chews on the side of his mouth to try to ease the ache in his fangs.

“O-Okay, Kacchan. But we’re gonna need to leave earlier, ‘cuz it’s gonna take me longer to walk to UA.”

“You think I didn’t think of that? Yer suit and backpack’s in the genkan, all you have to do is get dressed and do some shit with yer hair.” Kacchan takes their plates to the sink and hoses them off with the sprayer; they’ll stay there until Izuku does the dishes tonight. Normally he’d just do them now, after breakfast, but Kacchan seems to be on a whole new schedule. “Oi. You listening?”

“Sorry, what did you say, Kacchan?”

“There’s gonna be an online auction for an All Might Beanie Baby. They’re not saying which year it is, though, so that means it could be an ultra rare. We’re staying in tonight so I can get a good bid.”

“Alright.” He cocks his head, watching Kacchan rinse off the pan, as well. He usually doesn’t go out and do things without Kacchan, anyway, but it’s very interesting that Kacchan is insisting he stay in with him. Not that he minds! He loves staying in with Kacchan. He loves doing anything with Kacchan. Especially with the incentive of a particularly fragrant Kacchan!

“Quit sitting there and staring at me. We gotta go in five!” A dish towel smacks his face.

“Yes, Kacchan!”

He didn’t expect them to get seats, of course not when it’s the morning rush and everyone and their mother is trying to get to work, but he also didn’t expect the stationmaster to hold out a hand when they tried to board the general car.

“Sorry, sir, but you’re going to have to ride in the alpha carriage today.”

“Hah?” Kacchan’s head snaps to Izuku, squinting at his neck, “But he’s wearing patches.”

Okay, Kacchan. That’s a low blow. He has a normal scent! Sure, very alpha, and maybe he had a bit of a stink problem back in middle school, but Izuku has gotten very good at giving off a more neutral tone when he’s patching. Sure, when he’s not wearing one any hope is lost, but that’s why he is always wearing one in public. He is not a stinky person. Kacchan.

“It’s, ah, not him, sir,” The stationmaster scans their tickets, still, “Your scent is quite potent. I’d recommend applying a scent patch during your journey before you arrive at your destination.”

Kacchan could be nasty about this. If they were still kids, he immediately would have been, but thankfully that was fifteen years ago and he’s just clenching his jaw so hard that it makes Izuku a little worried for his dental health.

He takes one of Kacchan’s soft hands and tugs, “C’mon Kacchan, I have some extra in my bag. We gotta go.”

The stationmaster gives their hands a funny look, the kind Izuku knows the exact meaning behind but likes to pretend he doesn’t to preserve his faith in humanity. Izuku gives the stationmaster a weak smile, a mix of Thank you for doing your job and a beg, Please don’t let my boyfriend see you giving us that face. You seem like you like having a face.

Kacchan misses this exchange, thankfully, as he speedwalks towards the middle car with the blue ɑ, and Izuku is quick to follow on his heels, the stationmaster’s eyes on them prickling at the hairs on his nape.

The alpha car stinks. Of course it does. The city has no law requirement to follow the same strict cleaning protocols as they do with the general car, so they don’t. This means stepping into the cabin is being surrounded by a cloud of stale body odor and the reek of sweat. Some of it probably belongs to the five other alphas in there with them, but most of it is old. Izuku tries not to estimate how many days old, because the noxious cloud of scents is already making him queasy.

Neither of them sit, even though they’re surrounded by plenty of open seats. The cushions are definitely saturated. Ugh. 

He starts to shrug his backpack off, but Kacchan grabs his arm. 

“The fuck are you doing? Don’t put that shit on the ground.”

“I need to get the patches?”

“I got it, don’t worry.” Kacchan steps behind him to rifle through his backpack, Izuku’s hold on the grab handle the thing holding them in place as the train starts. They sway. “It’s filthy in here, why’d you think dropping yer bag would be a good idea?”

“I was just trying to be helpful!” His head falls back in annoyance and Kacchan forces it back forward with one strong push, his hands wrapping around Izuku’s skull,

“Keep yer fat head out of the way. I’m looking.”

“They’re in the big zipper.”

“Why would you keep them in the big zipper? The front pocket makes so much more sense.” 

He can feel Kacchan pulling the box out, “Maybe because they’re my patches and I keep them where it works for me?”

A flick to his nape. It makes his whole body tense up, innate anger boiling in his stomach and a growl starting in his chest. It’s loud, and if the other alphas weren’t wallowing in their own stinky misery, they’d probably perk up at the challenge.

“Chill out. Why are you being a freak?”

“‘M not. Kacchan doesn’t like when I touch him there, either.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz yer always trying to bite the shit out of me. And I don’t dislike it. Get yer facts straight.” Kacchan steps back in front of him, tearing the safety seal and tossing the packaging of the patch into the train trash in one easy move. Kacchan sticks the patch to the side of his neck, then tugs on it to try to get it to cover the bottom of his gland, “Ugh. Why’s this shit so cold?”

He reaches up to rub at Kacchan’s patch, checking the security of it and also trying to get the adhesive to warm up a little. He always holds the patch in its packaging for a little while before applying; Kacchan just doesn’t have to wear them enough to know the trick behind comfortable patching.

“You should take yers off.”

“Um.” He blinks. That would be. A public safety hazard, honestly. Once again, he has a very normal scent! For a young male alpha! But maybe more normal for an alpha living in the wild five hundred years ago than for a modern day one. It’s nowhere near socially acceptable or appropriate to be out in public smelling like Izuku does when he doesn’t have a scent nullifier secured to his neck.

And Kacchan absolutely knows this.

The implication seems to hit Kacchan and he lets out a low huff, turning to face the window instead of Izuku. “It stinks in here.”

“Me not wearing one would definitely make it worse.”

“Whatever. Yer an idiot, by the way.”

He sighs, turning to watch the skyline go by with Kacchan, their shoulders brushing against each other with the rocking of the train, “Why’s that?”
“You didn’t even check to see if you had a lunch. I made yer bento when I made mine. It’s in yer backpack.”

“Oh!” His heart skips a beat; Kacchan is so sweet, in his own prickly way. “Thank you! That’s so kind!”

Kacchan grunts, keeping his eyes on the window, “I take care of what’s mine.”

They do not kiss or hug goodbye when he drops Kacchan off at his agency. That would be highly inappropriate. Normally their goodbyes in public consist of a professional nod from him and an eye roll from Kacchan that roughly translates into, Bye, shitty nerd, love you. 

This is what he’s expecting when they arrive in front of the God Agency, his suit in its briefcase knocking against his thigh. He starts to dip in his chin for the nod, but Kacchan stops him with a wrist rubbing against his neck. Soft skin with the slight stick of gland oil.

Scenting. Oh.

In public. Without asking first.

“K’cchan!” He manages to squeak out with the meat of Kacchan’s palm brushing against the underside of his chin.

“Mm.” Kacchan steps away, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Have a good day, Izuku.

His neck tingles on the walk to UA. Because Kacchan just did that in plain view of anybody and didn’t even ask beforehand. What the fuck.

It was so hot. His face is burning because Kacchan just treated him exactly like he knows Izuku likes to be treated in their private moments. Like he’s Kacchan’s to use. His dildo or his mouth to fuck or his pillow after and he’s nothing more. Kacchan’s.

His scent lets out when he’s trying to palm his boner under control in the single-room staff bathroom at UA. Of course it does. Bleeds through his patch and mixes with Kacchan’s that was left on him, claiming him, making the room smell like cinnamon sprinkled over wet earth. He has to force his hand away and stop his ministrations because he really wants to fuck something and pawing at himself is unfortunately only worsening the situation.

Winces when his brain clears a little and the room smells this strong.

Izuku’s pocket-size scent neutralizer spritzes, clearing the air and clinging to his clothes, which he almost manages to keep a whining keen in about because now the Kacchan on him is neutralized, too. He peels off his soaked patch and dumps it in the biohazard waste box every bathroom has next to the door. 

The tear of paper, the heating up in his palm, he reapplies, stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. His eyes are half-lidded and stupid, how they always get whenever Kacchan is involved.

He splashes cold water on his face. He needs to focus. Even if Kacchan is acting a little out of character, Izuku needs to stay consistent. He can be the normal one in the relationship!

“Kacchan!” His suit bumps hard against his side as his steps speed up at the sight of a very cute Kacchan in his civilians leaning against his Porsche. He had been about to run to catch the 5 o’clock train and now Kacchan is here! With his very nice car! “I’m sorry, I would have tried to get out earlier if I knew you were going to pick me up!”

“No you wouldn’t. Would have come even later with shitty apologies in yer stupid nerd mouth.” Kacchan walks around to open the passenger door for him, watching Izuku climb in with careful eyes.

“Not true, Kacchan!” He reaches for the seatbelt and,

Kacchan is leaning into the car, grumbling and yanking the seatbelt across Izuku’s chest and lap. When he snaps him in, Kacchan’s hand grazes across Izuku’s thigh and groin more than necessary, although Izuku could be imagining it.

“Um, thank you? I can snap myself in, though, Kacchan.”

The door slams. The driver’s side door pops open and Kacchan slides in coolly, snapping himself in and turning the car on almost simultaneously, “Of course you can.”

“So, um, when did you leave the apartment?” 

Kacchan’s patrol ended at noon, but he’d been at his agency until three, when Izuku checked his location last. And after work, Kacchan usually likes to exercise with Izuku’s weightset then take a nap until Izuku gets home, which could be anywhere from four to eight. So.

It’s unusual that Kacchan is here picking him up. Not bad, of course! Never bad, nothing ever is when Kacchan’s involved, but definitely still unusual. Kacchan values his home exercise and nap very much. 

“Ten minutes ago. Just been keeping on eye on yer location.”

“Ah,” Izuku nods, understanding. This is good. Kacchan still probably got some peak naptime in, then, although the location watching is new. He’s the one who is more anally retentive about that, for sure. Their friends even make fun of him for how often he checks Kacchan’s location. Even though every half hour when he’s not lecturing really isn’t that much. “Did you have a good day?”

“Fine.” Kacchan reaches for the gearshift then frowns, his nostrils flaring. “You smell like shit.”

“Oh.” He sniffs his armpit, nose brushing against his suit jacket, and he most definitely does not. Just his own natural smell mixed with mild reminders that he was in a room all day with teenagers who haven’t figured out how to get their pheromones under control. “Um. I smell normal.”

“No.” Kacchan’s grip stays on the gearshift as he drives, glaring at the road. Not his typical, handsome Kacchan-glare, either, but his actually-pissed-off-Kacchan glare. “Like shit. Yer showering when we get home.”

“Okay, Kacchan.” This is weird behavior. For sure. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Peachy. I’ll be happier when yer not stinking up my car.”

“You picked me up!”

“Yeah, ‘cuz you’d just smell worse taking the train back.”

Okay. So it is his students’ scents throwing off Kacchan. Very interesting. 

“Um. What did you do today?”

“Fine. Busted a bank heist in the financial district around lunchtime.”

“Oh!” His hair hit his face as he nodded, “I heard about that on the radio. I had it going during my free period, but they didn’t mention Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Which I have to admit is pretty inaccurate reporting. Do you think if I emailed the station they would try to adjust their stories in the future to be more detailed? I mean, maybe not if I’m calling as Midoriya Izuku, but I could mention Deku, right? That might work.” He tugs on his bottom lip as he watches Kacchan smoothly switch lanes. 

He loves watching Kacchan drive; fast and precise, getting them to their destination as efficiently as possible and looking ultra cool while doing it.

“I was on surveillance for that one thing. They probably didn’t want to blow my cover.” Kacchan says this with clear logic, but Izuku can hear the quiet, happy rumble vibrating through Kacchan’s chest.

Ah. Kacchan is so cute, like this. He only rumbles when it’s just them two, and even then it’s rare. Like doing a distinctly alphan trait somehow makes him less of an alpha? Izuku doesn’t really get it, but then again he’s always been more open to this stuff than Kacchan. To crying and communication and maybe rumbling a bit more than what’s socially acceptable. 

“How’s the case going?”

“Half and Half didn’t give you clearance? I thought you were gonna ask.”

“I mean, he actually emailed me last week, after you mentioned starting it, to see if I wanted to help with the investigation. But. It’s finals next month, and I really didn’t want to overcommit myself.” Didn’t want to is a lie. Actually a big, fat lie. That is more than a little related to him hitting the one year anniversary of getting the suit two months ago and having a nasty fight with Kacchan in the same week because he came home from a twelve-hour Sunday patrol and spent six hours grading and two hours sleeping before going in to teach the next day. 

“Mm. Makes sense. Kind of wanted you just as a consultant, though.” Kacchan doesn’t mention the fight, which is actually very kind of him. It had been a bad one, but it’s fine. Izuku doesn’t overwork himself as much, anymore! And Kacchan hasn’t threatened to cut his penis off since the argument. Which, is good. Very good. “‘S whatever. I think we should figure out who the ringleader is before the end of the week.” 

“That’s good.” Izuku supplies, checking the buzzing of his phone.

“Who is it.” It isn’t a question, the way Kacchan says it. More like a demand.

Hm. Possessiveness. Not out of the blue, though, for Kacchan.

“Ashido-san and Uruaka-san want to know if I want to go out drinking with them tonight.” He thumbs out a quick apology and a request for maybe another time?

“Yer busy.”

“Kacchan, I can’t talk and type.” He frowns at the screen.

“Tell them yer busy.”

“I already did!”

“Why do they always send this shit to you? They know I’m the one who actually manages the calendar.” 

“That’s not true! I literally coordinated the entire trip to Shirahama! Nobody else added to the itinerary or booked the tickets. All me.”

“You didn’t add yer patrol schedule for this week until I checked the wall and it wasn’t there.”

“I had it memorized, I didn’t need to add it,”

“Did you memorize yer scheduled breaks, too, or just the block you’d be working?”

He glares out the window, his right hand fiddling with the latch of his suit.

“Yer mad ‘cuz I’m right. Little shit.” Kacchan steadies a hand on the shoulder of Izuku’s seat, peering behind them to back into their designated spot in the apartment parking garage. His scent is even black tea. “We’re doing the auction in bed.”

“Oh! Does that mean. Um. My papers?”
“Hell no. No working in our bed.”

“But Kacchan! This could take hours and I told my students I’d have their quizzes done before the weekend starts!”

“Fine. An hour on the couch, then we move. That give you enough time?”

“Yes, thank you!” He ducks in to give Kacchan a peck before he slides out of the car. He thought it’d be cute to be fast and get Kacchan’s door for him, but unfortunately Kacchan is already out of his seat by the time Izuku makes it to the driverside. Ugh. Kacchan. 

“What are you doing over here?” Kacchan’s eyes crinkle up, his pretty hands tucked into the pockets of his sweats. 

“Nothing.” His face burns as he adjusts his grip on his suit’s briefcase.

“Hold still. Shit’s crooked.” One of Kacchan’s slender, careful hands gives the right adjustor strap on his backpack a harsh tug, hard enough it makes his chest jerk a centimeter forward. “Did you seriously walk around all day with it like this?”

“I thought it felt a little crooked, but I wasn’t sure where Kacchan put the bento, so I thought that might be it throwing off the weight.”

Kacchan’s glare widens before it narrows again, one of his few easy tells that his feelings are hurt besides yelling; he turns away and starts walking towards the stairs. “You didn’t eat it.”

“I did!” It’s hard to keep up with Kacchan, who's moving so fast that Izuku’s basically taking two steps at a time to stay on Kacchan’s heels. They always used to take the elevator, back before they lived together and they switched between their apartments every week, but Kacchan makes them take the stairs ever since he gave Izuku his suit. Something something incidental exercise. Ugh. “I ate it during my free period! While I was listening to the radio! I just forgot about the weight imbalance, after that, so I didn’t think about it. It was very tasty, Kacchan.”

He tries to grab the empty bento out of his backpack as evidence without taking his backpack off, which promptly ends with his heel slipping on the corner of one step and all of his weight starting to fall backward.

Kacchan grabs him by the top handle of his backpack, letting out a snort that’s his equivalent of a laugh, “Whatever. Don’t crack yer head open trying to prove yer point, idiot.”

“I would have caught myself.” He argues back, using his phone to unlock the door to their floor. Kacchan’s the one that pushes it open, though, shouldering Izuku out of the way to get into the hallway first, “Hey!”

“Shut up.” Kacchan gives the hallway a safety scan, the kind they do on stake-outs, but then ignores Izuku’s questioning look. Or maybe Izuku isn’t that great at doing a questioning look, but he tried, okay?! Either way, Kacchan is being weird, scoping out their floor like this.

Kacchan’s been weird all day, though. Izuku should address this.

Yeah.

“Why are you scoping out our hallway?”

“‘M not, what the hell?”

Okay, defensive. Kacchan was definitely just checking out the hallway, then.

“Is there a surprise? Oh! Is that why you wanted me to stay home with you tonight? Is it our friends? Did you get All Might to come over for dinner? We haven’t had him over in a while, that would be so nice. Is it Ojisan and Obasan? They haven’t been over since we finally got your plants from your old apartment, hm, or is it–”

“There’s no surprise.”

The flat thump of their lock turning open. Kacchan is being honest, unless he’s somehow acquired a new talent for lying to Izuku. Which is doubtful. Kacchan is a very straightforward person.

“Ah.” So Kacchan is just being extremely weird. “Um. What do you want for dinner?”

“I’m cooking.”

“What? Kacchan, it’s my turn this week-”

Kacchan flips him off while he digs through their crisper. Which is strange in its own right, since Kacchan looking around implies he doesn’t know what he’s making, yet. Meaning dinner is very spur-of-the-moment. 

Kacchan is not a spur-of-the-moment person. He gets gassy and can’t bottom when they go on trips that work/their friends/their family spring on them last minute. He has Izuku’s teaching schedule for the next two years typed out in his notes app.

“Kacchan, are you sure you’re feeling alright?” 

“Why the fuck do you keep asking me that?”

“You’re just acting… very out of character today.”

“Maybe I’m so in character that yer nerd brain can’t comprehend it.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not that. Um. Why are you cooking dinner when it’s my turn?”

“It’s my job to take care of you.” Kacchan says it casually from the sink, filling a pot with water. 

“It goes both ways.” Izuku cocks his head, flattening his hands against the kitchen island and trying to get a read on Kacchan’s scent. Sharp cinnamon and black pepper weaving with the sweet sugar of nitroglycerin. Hm. Kacchan is sweatier than usual, too. Is that why his scent is so potent? But sweat glands and scent glands rely on completely different bodily systems. Although. Maybe Kacchan’s sweating is related to the scent.

He can feel the answer like sparks spitting off a flint and steel. It hasn’t ignited, yet, but it’s there waiting for him.

He just needs more evidence.

Izuku nods to himself, watching Kacchan smoothly chop carrots into practically identical little circles. He’ll proceed as normal until he’s gathered enough clear, undeniable evidence to bring to Kacchan that he’s been acting very strangely today.  “Kacchan, did you see the newest shots the ISS got of the moon last week?”

Kacchan gives his keep-talking grunt and Izuku smiles, waving his hand with his words as he fills the slightly awkward air between them.

“Kacchan, I’m almost done, I promise.” 

“It’s been an hour, nerd!” Kacchan tugs at the blanket he’s sitting on, like he’s hoping it’ll become a magic carpet and start flying to carry Izuku to their room. Or maybe he’s just trying to get Izuku to stand up.

“It’s been 59 minutes. I have a minute left!” His fingers fly across his laptop keyboard as he tries to finish inputting grades before Kacchan manages to yank him off the couch. “Kacchan, I still have thirty seconds, let go of the blanket, please.” 

“Get yer ass up.” 

“Fifteen seconds! Kacchan!” He can sense a hand behind his head, but it’s probably Kacchan trying to get a grip on his shirt, too, so he ignores it and tries to type faster, which is actually probably humanly impossible.

The hand chokes his nape. Squeezes around the venom tubes that run from his fangs to behind his ears to connect at his scruff, a part of his anatomy that he never thinks about but is suddenly very, very aware of as Kacchan grabs his neck.

The growl is instantaneous, an octave lower than his speaking voice and tearing out through his throat, vibrating around Kacchan’s fingers. He needs to turn around, bite the hand, force Kacchan to submit.

The fingers squeeze tighter, effectively squishing his venom tubes and filling his head with easy fuzz, his eyelids drooping.

Kacchan lets go and steps away from the couch, folding his arms. He’s smirking.

“K’cchan.” Izuku blinks his eyes, which had started to dry with glaze. “Mm. K’cchan.” He licks at his fang, which sluggishly drip venom from the sudden unchoking of his venom transport system. Ah. Hm. Okay. He tries to glare, which is kind of hard to do when the warm static is just starting to fade from his head, “You can’t just grab me like that.”

“Mhm?” Kacchan isn’t looking at his face right now, which is honestly pretty rude.

“It’s a natural response.” He argues back, readjusting his semi in his homeshorts, “The nape is a sensitive part of our endocrine systems. It makes sense for it to be an erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone is probably the wrong term. Kacchan had pretty much just forced Izuku to submit. And when that didn’t work, he messed with Izuku’s natural defense system to make him all easy and pliant. Which is so not cool! Even if it gets Izuku hard! Not cool!

“So. Please don’t do that, Kacchan. Not when we’re arguing.”

“We ain’t arguing, you just ain’t listening.”

“I was listening! You said an hour and it hasn’t been an hour yet!” Okay. Yes, technically it’s been an hour and two minutes, but he wasn’t able to grade for the last two because Kacchan decided to fondle him. Ugh.

“We go when I say we go.” Kacchan’s face is stubbornly cute, even if he’s still staring at Izuku’s dick. 

“Kacchan…” He reaches for his laptop bag, folding the screen down and about to tuck his computer away. Kacchan decides he’s taking too long and huffs, yanking the laptop out of his hands and shoving it in the case, the scream of the zipper, and then he’s tossing it onto the couch next to Izuku, still glaring.

He sighs and stands up, shuffling to their bedroom as Kacchan’s eyes bore into him. This is a bit much, Kacchan. He doesn’t have to be watching Izuku’s every move! 

But he does. Follows Izuku to their bedroom and watches him start untucking the duvet so they can snuggle underneath it.

Another annoyed huff and Izuku freezes, fingers curled into the cotton cover. “What?”

“Yer doing it wrong.” Kacchan shoulders him out of the way and yanks the blanket free from its careful placement this morning; he’s propping up pillows underneath it and folding the ends of it in to form little walls before he steps away. “Get in.”

Izuku does, cautiously, one eye on Kacchan, who's definitely swearing under his breath as he paces around the room to grab things. Kacchan’s laptop, which always has subtitles turned on automatically; Izuku’s water bottle, which Kacchan will definitely make him share even while he complains about Izuku backwashing; Kacchan’s wallet, and a fuzzy blanket from their closet that looks like some kind of fantastical animal pelt that they’ve literally never used. At least, he’s never used it, but Kacchan is also not prone to snuggling up alone, so there’s a good chance it’s sat in there gathering dust for six months. 

“Move yer ass.” Kacchan tucks in beside him, nudging at Izuku until he turns onto his side and Kacchan can tuck his arms around him from behind, placing the laptop on Izuku’s lap. “Okay, lean back.” 

It’s not a bad position, per say. After all, he’s able to keep touching Kacchan, and he’ll always love touching Kacchan, but it’s definitely more stereotypically lovey-dovey than what Kacchan normally initiates. Izuku’s back to his, Kacchan’s chin propped on his shoulders as his chest forms a seat for Izuku to lean back into. It’s nice, and domestic, and nothing like the usual sitting-side-by-side-shoulders-touching he and Kacchan do when not sleeping or making love in their bed.

“Grab the blanket.”

Kacchan’s voice is gravelly and low in his ear, and as he leans forward to grab where Kacchan left it at the foot of the bed, the arms around his waist tighten, like Kacchan’s afraid he’s gonna try to get away. 

Izuku leans back with the blanket, letting it stretch out across them. The arms slacken.

The auction is live. Kacchan had been watching it next to Izuku on the couch earlier, his left knee jackhammering up and down as new bids were made for similar All Might merch, and the webpage is still loaded when Kacchan flips his laptop open. “AND OUR NEXT ITEM…”

He hears Kacchan huff hot in his ear, and then one of the hands around his waist is stabbing at the down volume key until the auction is pretty much muted. Just subtle noise with live subtitles providing a somewhat accurate dialogue. 

“Do you like it?”

“Hm?” He glances away from the screen and trying to decipher what words the subtitles were actually supposed to be. Kacchan’s eyes are honed in on him, tearing through the layers of his skin and muscle to peer into the core of him. Or maybe that’s just how it feels to have Kacchan’s full attention.

Probably a bit of both.

“The… auction?”

“Our bed.”

“Um. Yeah? I think we made a good decision going with the Advanced Gel Memory

Foam mattress. Um. I sleep very comfortably?” 

“Do you like what I did?” Kacchan’s staring solidly at the laptop, putting on a very good impression of a Disinterested Kacchan.

“With the blanket… and pillows?”

“Yeah.”

“I think it’s…” He stares at the nook Kacchan has formed with their duvet, the slight walls that surround them. Even the fluffy blanket that Kacchan retrieved from the closet. It’s very. Hm. Sparks catch kindling in his head. “I really like it, Kacchan.”

Kacchan’s rumble is strong, vibrating Izuku in his place against Kacchan’s chest. If he tried to talk now, his voice would probably come out broken up with how hard Kacchan’s happy noise is shaking them. It’s very cute. And also very, very unKacchan. 

Okay. He should broach this. After the auction, and for sure after Kacchan is done shaking their bed because, sue him, Kacchan is so cute like this! Acting like somebody’s happy housecat. Izuku wants to cherish the moment!

He’ll bring it up, though. Definitely.

“Don’t even think of spitting that shit out.”

“Ish been two minutesh!” Some of the toothpaste foaming out of his mouth flicks onto, thankfully, the basin of their bathroom sink when he talks. If he got any on the mirror, Kacchan would definitely kill him.

“It’s been a minute thirty seconds. Yer not getting any goodnight kiss from me if yer breath smells like fish.” Kacchan says this like he’d actually retract physical intimacy. Which is very doubtful, seeing as he’s standing so close behind Izuku that his elbow hits the back of Izuku’s shoulders whenever he switches which hand to brush with. Kacchan is very good at making sure he doesn’t favor one hand over the other and possibly impede the eternal recovery of his arm. “Spit.”

Izuku ducks forward, some of the longer curls around his forehead and ears brushing forward, too. A Tsk, and then warm hands are cupping his hair out of the way.

Shpitoo. “Thank you, Kacchan.”

“Whatever.” Kacchan has to move away from being glued to Izuku’s back to spit out his too, and he seems to think that the only way to solve this loss of contact is by gripping Izuku’s elbow with his free hand as he rinses his mouth out. 

Kacchan’s throat flexes as he gargles sink water, his adam’s apple sharp and popping out along the lines of his sternocleidomastoid; the ticking of his jaw as his mouth hangs slack. The harsh jut of his fangs glinting in the bathroom light.

Izuku swallows down drool, grips his toothbrush a little tighter than necessary as he runs the bristles under the faucet to get rid of any leftover toothpaste.

Kacchan spits out his gargled water at the same time he’s doing this.

“Ugh, Kacchan! That got on my toothbrush!”

“That a problem?” Kacchan’s giving him a look like Izuku’s completely crazy for not wanting his boyfriend spitting on his just-cleaned toothbrush. Which.

He should broach it now. Gently, as smoothly as possible. Tactfully.

“When’s your next rut?”

“Hah?!”
“I just— You’ve been a little strange today, Kacchan— and not in a bad way– but I think we should probably talk about this, because some of the things you’re doing are signs of prerut. But talking about it could also be good in general, since one of us is bound to go into rut eventually, anyway. I mean, I probably won’t, not by surprise, at least, since my suppressants are strong so I have to time my ruts super carefully to not go over the recommended dosing, but I know you don’t take the same kind of stuff I do. So. Yeah.”

 Maybe mentioning their difference in medication was a bad idea; Kacchan could take it as a dig at his alpha, which could be especially hurtful to his feelings if he really is experiencing the extreme hormonal fluctuations of his body preparing to go into rut. But it's true! Izuku’s alpha is much, much more medicated than Kacchan’s.

“‘S not for another two months. ‘M not going through prerut.” Kacchan waps Izuku on the shoulder with the hand towel he was drying off with.

“Um. How closely do you time them?” Not to mention the unpredictability of a pretty much uncontrolled hormonal cycle. If Izuku were to follow Kacchan’s regime of few pills and much exercise, he’d probably go into rut once a month. Which is recommended by no doctor. “Like, is it two months or more like seven weeks?”

“That’s basically the same fucking thing.” 

It’s not. Not when Izuku had to be locked in a padded rut room every time he went into one, back when he still had One for All. Not when he has to text his landlord like some hormonal teenager every time and ask her to put reenforcements on the outside of his door. Not when his face has friction burns for a week from the muzzle. Not when every time he comes to afterwards, half of his clothes have been shredded and his apartment reeks of claim and there’s scratches on the front door like he tried to get out to find a warm, wet hole to fuck. 

It’s not when you’re as messed up as Izuku’s alpha is. But, he has to remind himself that Kacchan lives a basically blessed life, free of such archaic urges. Which is also why Kacchan will never, ever see him in rut. 

“Your scent is stronger.”

“No it’s not.”

“The stationmaster said it was. And you’ve been extra clingy lately, Kacchan, which I really like, but is kind of unusual for you.” He slides his knee onto their mattress, following Kacchan to bed. “And um. You’ve been scenting me more.”

“What? Not good enough? You want some shitty extra’s stink on you, instead?” Stale chai, old and rotting, fills the air of their bedroom. Izuku has to bite off a whine at the disgust it holds; his Kacchan is upset. 

“No! I only want Kacchan! Always. Always.” He takes Kacchan’s hands in his when Kacchan won’t look at him, “I’m just worried, because if you’re really going through prerut, we need to set up supplies and contact your agency and I’ll need to reach out to Todoroki-kun or Uruaka-san to see if they have a couch I can sleep on.”

“I ain’t going through prerut, but even if I was, there’s no way in hell yer staying at any of their shitty places.”

“Buh.” He blinks, his brain trying to process what Kacchan just said. “Like. You mean I’d stay at my mom’s or something, right?”

“Izuku.” Kacchan glares at him, his cheek smushed against the pillow as he mirrors Izuku laying on his side, two crescent moons facing each other, “This is our den. Yer not leaving it for any reason for as long as I’m here.”

“Kacchan,” He whines, squeezing Kacchan’s hands, “I can’t stay here, if you go into rut.”

“Izuku.”

“It’d only be for a few days.” He tries to tell Kacchan how important it is that he understands this in the way he cradles Kacchan’s hands in his own, the way he pleads his eyes to Kacchan’s.

Kacchan rolls over to face away from him, his scent stale and displeased.

“Why would you have to leave?”
“Mm?” He glances up from his phone, which had been charging on the kitchen counter when he’d stumbled out of their room twenty minutes ago to make breakfast. It was very kind of Kacchan to plug it in. And also indicative of the larger issue, with the dried gland oil on the screen making the whole thing smell like a possessive tea shop. 

“If I went into rut, why would you leave?”

“‘Cus I’d go into mine, too.” 

Duh. 

“That’s not how that works.”

“Yes it is.”

“Alphas go into rut around omegas in heat, not other alphas in rut. That ain’t how the world works, nerd.”

“That’s how I work, with Kacchan.” He chirps back, trying to find the pancake recipe he’d saved on his Herogram last week. Maybe he sent it to his mom? Yeah, he should check their messages.

“You rut when I rut.”

“Y-yeah?” 

“For how long.”

“Um. Well, you presented, and then I did, too. So not that time. But every time since then, yeah.” It’s very strange Kacchan never noticed they always went on rut leave at the same time, he's usually very perceptive. To be fair, though, Izuku hasn’t had his natural rut cycle since he was eighteen, so maybe the asshole teenager version of Kacchan just didn’t notice. Hot adult Kacchan would have definitely noticed. Yeah. 

“What’d be so bad about us sharing it, huh?” 

Kacchan is ignoring the fact that Izuku’s wearing the apron this morning and has already started stacking eggs on the counter. Ugh. Can Kacchan figure his hormones out, please?!

“It’d be dangerous.”

“I’m not weak.”

You’re not. He wants to assure, to promise, to soothe the truth of it into Kacchan’s skin. But it’s not true, in this case. Or maybe Kacchan isn’t weak. But an Izuku in rut is very, very dangerous. Two truths that should never mix. Will never mix. “It’s just a bad idea, okay? So whenever you get your rut next,”–which is totally in the next few days– “I’ll just go stay at one of our friends' houses.” 

“You’ll stay here. Where you belong.” An egg cracks sharp on the countertop, one clean precise motion that lets no yolk or white seep out. Kacchan opens it into the bowl in the one-handed way that he’ll never teach Izuku how to do because, Not wasting twenty eggs til you get it right, nerd. “We got two months to figure out how to make it work, for both of us.” 

“Kacchan, what are you making?”

“Omurice.” He is so not. Ugh. 

“Kacchan, I was going to make pancakes this morning.”

“I’m cooking.”

“No, Kacchan, it’s my turn. And you haven’t even started the rice yet. We should use those eggs for pancakes.” 

“Bullshit.” Kacchan’s scent rises, challenging and sharp.

“No it’s not bullshit, it’s my turn to make breakfast and I’ve been planning pancakes since we watched the All Might The Animated Series special where he had flapjacks with American-style bacon. Kacchan.” Izuku blinks, sniffing the air between them.

He didn’t mean to let his scent out, especially since the idea of using it to sway someone makes him want to puke, but it’s still there in the air between them. Strong and thick in the way it gets only when he’s not wearing patches. Ah hell. 

Kacchan stares at him from the counter, an uncracked egg between his hands, eyes glassy and half-lidded. His shoulders are easy and loose, his scent smothered beneath Izuku’s.

“S-sorry, give me a minute. I’m sorry, Kacchan.” He scrambles to the couch, where he dumped his backpack last night. Big zipper, a tug, teeth gaping open, and he has his box of medical-grade scent patches in hand. Take one out, hold the packet in his hand to warm it up–

“Don’t put that shit on.” Kacchan shakes his head and blinks, frowning.

“Kacchan–”
“Yer in yer own home. Don’t gotta wear stuff like that around me.” 

“It wasn’t fair of me to do that.” And maybe a bit unusual; he’s very good at keeping these things under control; it’s a honed skill when a subgender is as prominent as Izuku’s is. It must just be a fluke from Kacchan deciding to be an asshole this morning, “I-I don’t ever want to make Kacchan uncomfortable or-r feel threatened. I’m so sorry.”

Kacchan does not respond. He leans against their kitchen counter with his arms folded so tight it looks like every muscle in them is flexing and glares at Izuku’s sniffling, at the way he rubs the patch’s packaging between two hands to get it to warm up faster. The disappointment oozing off of Kacchan, the set of Kacchan’s pretty brow into frustration, it all just makes Izuku feel even more like a dog that pissed on the carpet.

Strong chai with the milky undertones of not being fully awake yet, spice interwoven with the musk of an alpha in its prime, fills the air, surrounding Izuku. The moment he catches a whiff of it, his mouth slacks open, panting, to try to get more of it, gulping down lungfuls of it and whining as his cock starts to twitch in his sleep shorts. It smells so good, something he could never live without, something he wishes he could press his nose up against, into, nuzzle against every second of everyday for the rest of his life, and–

“Now we’re even.” Kacchan turns back to the bowl, using a fork to start breaking the yolks, “Although I didn’t get a boner. You act like such a damn virgin and yer a bigger freak than me, what’s the science behind that?”

“Hah. Kacchan.” He licks at the back of his fangs to try to get any remnants of the scent, already dispersing with the chug of fresh air from their air conditioning. “Um. Buh.”

“Take yer time.” He can’t see Kacchan’s face, but he can hear a smile in his voice. Ugh. Kacchan’s probably gonna tease him about this for the rest of the day. Which is so unfair! It’s not his fault that Kacchan is the best, most awesome and beautiful person in the world who has the best and most awesome scent to match! “We’ll make yer stupid pancakes, so quit whining about it. I’m driving us today; not gonna stand in that stinky-ass train again. Ugh. Fucking disgusting.” Red eyes land on the unopened patch in Izuku’s hands, “Don’t put that shit on until you actually need it. Just because the public can’t handle it doesn’t mean I can’t. I ain’t weak, and yer not some stinky monster. Not like that shitty train, at least.” 

“Mhm, K’cchan.” Kacchan’s sleep shirt is baggy, squishing around Izuku’s arms before he finally wraps around the warmth of a torso underneath it. Tilting his head up, he can just reach the start of Kacchan’s neck, where he presses a quick kiss and a few kitten licks. 

“We’re not following any shitty AI-generated recipe you found online, though. I’ve been making this shit since I was in diapers.” 

 When his fangs scrape against the delicate skin, Kacchan stiffens.

“Fuck, get off, idiot.”

“K’cchan.” He pinches it into a roll, not biting down, just teething at Kacchan’s neck. 

Kacchan writhes in his arms before a boney elbow jabs into Izuku’s jaw, forcing him to step back. He whines, long and high, rubbing at his face as Kacchan turns around to face him.

“Why are you acting so weird?”

“Mm. Kacchan.” He licks at his fangs, the spit on his tongue slightly cooling the ache coming off of them. “Oh. Um. Weird?”
“Yeah, weird, nerd. Super fucking weird. My scent ain’t anything special and now yer acting like some kind of addict.”

Not true, Kacchan! He has undebatably the best scent in the world. That’s just one of the most basic side effects of being the absolute bestest person ever. “Kacchan is the best.”

Kacchan’s cheeks turn a very cute pink before he spins around, reaching into a cabinet for the flour, “Go get yer hard-on under control. I’ve got this.”

Hm. That might actually be a good idea, Kacchan. Slipping his hand down the front of his waistband, Izuku has to bite a whine between his fangs as he palms at his situation.

“Not in the kitchen, freak!” 

“Keys?”

“I have them.”

“Phone charger.”

“Of course, Kacchan.”

“Yer computer?”

He gives Kacchan his best, Are we serious, Kacchan? look, which is just swatted away with a signature glare. “I’m not forgetful.”

“No, but you were acting super weird earlier. Gotta make sure yer gonna be normal at work.”

“I’m always normal at work!” Which is, actually, very true. Or at least the kind of not-normal he is at his job has more to do with accidentally talking too long or loud about his hero theories, rather than the not-normal he is around Kacchan. Which involves a lot more erections. Both are not-normals he’s very happy to experience. “Thank you for dropping me off.”

“You already said that.”

“I know, but it’s very kind, and I appreciate you doing it, so thank you.”

Kacchan’s nose wrinkles like he just licked a lemon, cute, “Shut the fuck up. That’s the least you deserve.”

He could argue, because of course that’s a major hyperbole and also he definitely has not done enough good in his life or any of his past lives to earn the chance to date Kacchan, but he doesn’t. Mainly because they have two minutes before he has to swipe in to his classroom. “Ah. Your windows. So. Kiss?”

“Stupid nerd. Wouldn’t have gotten them tinted for anything else.” Kacchan ducks in, his eyes barely cracked open–which Izuku has learned is a 100% tell for them kissing–so he leans in too, closing his eyes completely and puckering his lips.

Kacchan leans past his face, he feels it in the brush of wind, and slots their necks together. Moves a little, just the slightest bit of friction.

Electricity lights up at his gland rubbing against Kacchan’s, heating his face till it feels like it’s on fire, his cock thickening as the rest of him untenses completely. He can feel the side of his neck wet with oil.

“Haaah, Kacchan.” He pants out, “Our glands.”

Kacchan, regrettably, pulls back, a smile curving the ends of his mouth up, “Yeah, nerd?”

“They were. Um.” His head is already starting to clear, which promptly makes him realize how embarrassing this whole thing is. “Kissing.” 

“Mhm.” Kacchan reaches between Izuku’s legs, to his backpack stowed in the footwell. Tugs a scent patch out of the big zipper. “You should probably put this on, Sensei.” 

“Ah. Hm. Yeah. Yes. Good idea.” His hands fumble to grab the packet from Kacchan; his face feels even hotter when their fingers brush. Kacchan of course notices all of this, his smug look of victory watching Izuku apply the patch. “Um. Okay.”

“Izuku.” The tone Kacchan uses is so not appropriate for saying goodbye. Which of course Kacchan knows.
Izuku pops his door open, keeping his suit briefcase square in front of his crotch, because while his slight situation will definitely go down when he’s out of Kacchan’s vicinity, he so does not want anyone to see him like this. 

Half-lidded red eyes watch him awkwardly slide out of the car, the same smug, closed smile stretching across Kacchan’s face. Fuck.

“Okayloveyoubyekacchan!” He squeaks out, face tomato red, slamming the door shut.

He can hear a cackle come from within the car.

“Dynamight Hero Agency, thank you for your continued support, this is Kaminari speaking.”

“Kaminari-kun!” He squeaks out, hunched behind his desk. He put up his out of office sign on his classroom door, but if Aizawa sees him in here on his free period, he’ll definitely try to come in and yap at Izuku about his cats for the millionth time. “Um. Is Takahashi-san there?”

“No, she called out sick this morning, so Kacchan of the Bakugous texted and asked me to come in and sit around the office in case anybody called.”

“Okay, um. I have kind of a sensitive matter, and I need you to not let Kacchan know I called.”

“Mhm, sure, Midoriya. Before we get into it, though, have you gotten your man to schedule out for his rut, yet?”

“Thank you! That’s what I was calling about!” 

“Oh yeah, man, he’s like. Right there. Kirishima’s been spraying scent neutralizers like crazy all over the place. They’re out on patrol right now, but he’s probably still doing it so no civilians have to deal with Bakugou’s stink.”

Izuku has to swallow down an appropriate amount of drool at the thought of being able to smell Kacchan right now. Ugh.

“Anyway, he should really get his rut leave out like right now. It’s already super close, so it’s gonna be hard for us to pick up his shifts, but it’s way better doing that now than having to do it all super early tomorrow morning, right?”

“You think it’s that soon?” His voice comes out faint.

“Oh, totally, dude. Um. I hope this isn’t too personal, but he smelled like you when he came in, this morning.”

“Yeah, we scented before our jobs started?”

“I just think. Um. Midoriya, your scent’s pretty potent, too.”

Shit. 

“Do you have, like, anywhere to go? The rut rooms at UA are probably still open to faculty, right?” 

“Kacchan wants me to stay with him.” Hollow words because even if he knew they didn’t have two months, it’s hard to hear that they definitely don’t have two months.

“What, so you can tear his throat out? Did he not see you try to rip into Iida in the dorms?”

“No, he had already gone on rut leave.” Iida had pressed the fourth floor button, and that just set off Izuku’s alpha, which had already been simmering in prerut since Kacchan had disappeared into his room, “But. Is there any way you can schedule him for his leave, starting tomorrow?”

“Hmmmm. Lemme check. Okay. Takahashi-san’s computer doesn’t have a password. That’s kind of weird, right? Okay. Sooo, tomorrow. Oooh, I can pick random times. Let’s do starting tomorrow at 7 a.m. That’s so cool.” The clacking on the other side of the line pauses, “When do you think his will end?”

He tugs on his bottom lip, his fangs catching on the soft inner skin there, “Kacchan has a tendency to rut for seven days with no prostate-assisted orgasms, I’ve noticed, so–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! That is way TMI, Midoriya! Um. I just need a number, please.”

“Seven days.” 

“Okay. Um.” An awkward cough on the other end, “Have you called out for yours, yet?”

He laughs nervously, “I’m kind of hoping my alpha is just being overactive because Kacchan’s about to.”

“Midoriya-kun.” Kaminari’s voice is something between pity and exasperation, “I think you should call out.”

He gets through the day. Sends a text to Kacchan to not pick him up because he’s going to stay later to grade (Not true. He needs to get a week’s worth of food and rut supplies.), tries to call Uruaka, tries to call Todoroki, gets voicemail from both. Which, logically, makes sense. His phone has been buzzing with updates about a fire covering a whole city block in the Fashion District, so they’re probably busy saving lives and being super heroic. But. 

He really needs somewhere he can go. Hopefully sneak off to right before Kacchan’s rut hits to avoid his coming, too, and spend the week checking up on Kacchan through a constant video call from his laptop, which he’ll leave on and plugged in at their apartment. This is the plan he came up with as he was deciding between a 32-pack of rut-specific electrolyte water or a 64-pack. 

“That’ll be ¥25,000.” The cashier gives him a weak smile, eyes trained on the bead of sweat that trails down Izuku’s forehead.

He hands over the papers, trying not to wince when the overly sweet perfume of the cashier’s scent gets in his space when they lean over to grab the money. 

“Cutting it a bit close, aren’tcha, son?”

“Hm?”

“All of your rut supplies.” A hand gestures at his six plastic bags of food and medical supplies and lube. 

“Oh, these are for my partner.” He’s noticed that partner instead of boyfriend yields the least negative pushback from strangers. It’s his default, at this point.

The floral scent of the cashier wilts into something rotten before they school it back to something nearly professional. “Here’s your receipt. Have a nice rest of your day, sir.”

He takes the train back to their apartment. The stationmaster says nothing about him entering the general cabin, but he can feel the other passengers keeping a wide berth around the sweat-drenched sheen of his skin. The massive bags of rut supplies he’s carrying probably isn’t helping, either. It all screams, Threat! Suspicious Alpha!

He sighs and reminds himself that this is technically Kacchan’s fault.

Kacchan isn’t home. Vaguely worrying, but it gives him time to unpack all of the supplies and stow them into the proper areas. His skin feels 30 even though the thermostat reads 25, so he changes out of his button-up and slacks into his sleep shorts and one of Kacchan’s loose tank tops. Which definitely helps.

Kicking his feet up onto the couch, he’s able to turn on mindless TV and dip his chin under the collar of the tank, huffing in the remnants of Kacchan still there under the base neutral of their laundry detergent. It helps him focus, is what he tells himself, because having Kacchan nearby always helps him focus. Even if he’s had a semi since he stepped into the apartment that smells like the both of them and his fangs ache, he’s fine. He’s focused and fine and Kacchan is the one going into rut.

Half an hour into his Kacchan-scented tank top meditation, his phone starts screaming in his butt pocket. He growls before he can stop himself and digs it out, the screen damp from his sweat. 

KACCHAN <3 <3 <3 <3 is calling!

“Kacchan!” He chirps, smushing his face against the screen to try to get as close to Kacchan as he can.

“Where the fuck are you?” Kacchan sounds desperate and angry, a growl in his voice. “I’ve been at UA’s gates for half an hour.”

“Kacchan, I’m at home.” He frowns. Did Kacchan not think to check his location? Not a good sign for how Kacchan’s prerut is progressing. “Are you feeling okay–”

“Shut the fuck up.” The line goes dead. His thumb instantly swipes to the location tracker. The little circle photo of a chihuahua that’s Kacchan is steadily approaching their apartment, coming from UA. Driving, Kacchan will probably be here in ten minutes.

But. He frowns. The chihuahua is going a lot faster than Kacchan would, driving, which means–

Shit. Is Kacchan blasting here? How out of it is he? Shit. Shit. Izuku needed to get out of here like yesterday, there’s no way Kacchan’s rut isn’t going to start tonight.

When his hand grips the knob to the front door, he can’t turn it. The hair on the back of his neck raises and a growl rips through his throat, because this is his den. There’s no way that he’s leaving it. This is his territory. 

What makes the most sense is making sure everybody knows who this apartment belongs to, not abandoning it. 

So he rubs against the door, his scarred cheek pressed into the wood, wrists facing out so the glands can ooze oil wherever he needs, his half-hard dick bumping soft knocks into the door. Then the couch, where he rolls around the cushions and shimmies underneath the throw pillows to make sure each part of it is saturated with him.

When he gets to the bedroom, to the bed, he has a harder time. The moment he spots the half-formed blanket nest in the center of the mattress, he remembers his mate. The love of his life. The stars in the sky. He can’t scent their nest, not yet. Not until they’re both here and feeling the give of each other’s bodies and covering it with the smell of them.

This is the decision he makes, standing at the foot of their bed. Kacchan. He needs Kacchan here.

Ah. Hm. Kacchan. He rubs the meat of his palm against his dick as he thinks.

Yes. Kacchan. He needs to be here. Indeed. Something else, though, it tugs at Izuku’s brain while he licks at the venom dripping down the back of his fangs. Fangs. Teeth. He hasn’t marked Kacchan for this rut, yet, is that it?

No. He remembers, even though his brain is very fuzzy right now. Kacchan holding him on the floor of their bathroom as he cried into Kacchan’s shirt, one of his hands pressing-holding an ugly, bloody wad of gauze to Kacchan’s pretty neck.

Ah. That’s it. Can’t bite Kacchan. He pads over to the nightstand, opening the bottom drawer. The black muzzle stares up at him, looking more like a torture device than a safety measure, and his fingers fasten it to his face with the proficiency of hands who have done this same act since he was twelve. Tightens it until the straps covering the mesh squish into his cheeks, just a little. Kacchan will probably loosen it a little when he comes back, since he’s so nice, but Izuku needs to ensure that Kacchan has the chance to loosen it. For Kacchan.

He rumbles as he crawls into their nest, curling around the ultra soft blanket that smells like Kacchan. It’s warm and feels good against the skin of his face that the muzzle doesn’t cover. That’s all that matters. Warm and good, and he’ll be good until Kacchan comes home. Good for Kacchan.

The front door crashes open; he’s out of the nest in an instant, his growl loud and clear as he runs into the main room. Oh. 

Kacchan stands in the genkan, the door already shut behind him, sweat pooling down his neck and sticking his hair to his forehead as he pants, shucking off his grenadier bracers.

“K’cchan!” His tongue laves against the mesh as he nuzzles into Kacchan, trying to get a taste of some of the deliciousness pooling down Kacchan’s bare neck. A hand pushes him off by his face, generating a low growl in his throat.

“What the fuck?” Kacchan takes his hand off of Izuku’s face, which is perfect, because now Izuku can snuggle back into him, nuzzling his muzzle against Kacchan’s pretty pecs. “Shit. Shit. Fuck. You weren’t lying.”

“Wouldn’t lie to Kacchan. Love Kacchan.” He tries to duck up to kiss Kacchan, but a hand pushes him back again. Right. Muzzle. “Y’should take this off of me.”

“Nuh-uh. You put it on for a reason. Were being good when you did it. Think you can stay good?”
“Yes, yes, always, Kacchan.” He follows his nose, stuffing his face into Kacchan’s armpit. Warm and wet and smells soooo good. His hand snakes into his shorts easily, pumping his cock as he huffs more of the drug of Kacchan’s pit sweat.

“Hey, cut that out.” He does, the moment Kacchan’s perfect voice tells him to, “Yers has already started?”

“My what?” He blinks, staring up into Kacchan’s eyes. Wow. They are so red. Kacchan should never wear glasses. He doesn’t have to yet, but if his vision ever gets bad like Ojisan’s, he should get contacts. Absolutely. Izuku can stare into these eyes all day.

“Yer rut.” Kacchan is not looking into his eyes, unfortunately. He seems pretty focused on Izuku’s hand jerking himself off. Which. It’s not that interesting, Kacchan! Everybody masturbates.

“Ah. No. ‘s prerut.”

“Hah? No it’s not.”

“Yeah, K’cchan. Not in rut yet. Knot hasn’t gone up, yet, see?” He cups his hands around his dick to show Kacchan. His knot is only normal size, not even inflated. He’ll only be ready to pup Kacchan when it’s a little bit bigger than his fist when it’s not fully popped. 

“Fuck. Yer gonna stick that in me?”

“Hm?” He blinks, slight clarity coming to him the faster he strokes his dick, “No, Kacchan. That’s a terrible idea. Why’d I do that?”

“‘Cuz of yer rut, idiot.” Kacchan’s scent comes out in a mix of green and black tea. Confused. 

“No way. We’ll just, uh, frot. And suck each other off. Or something. I don’t know. Wasn’t supposed to still be here.”

“What?”
“Wasn’t supposed to rut, with Kacchan. Not safe. Um.” The venom in his mouth is really distracting; he has to keep swallowing it back. Soon, it’ll probably just start dripping out of his muzzle.

“Why’d you stay, then?”

“This is our den. Needta be with Kacchan.”

Kacchan is pleased, wrapping Izuku in a hug and not complaining when his hips jackrabbit against one of Kacchan’s perfect thighs, fresh chai surrounding the both of them. Kacchan starts rumbling, and Izuku joins in, his slightly broken from panting through the muzzle. When good lightning starts to zing through his dick, he looks to his Kacchan, begging, “‘m close, can I?”

“No.” Kacchan holds him tight, though, not a rejection, Kacchan isn’t mad, Kacchan just needs him to be patient, “Heard of people’s shit starting ‘cuz they jizzed. Can’t risk that until I’m all souped up on rut hormones, too. Or at least my ass is stretched.”

Izuku whimpers as he forces himself to still, the damp pre patch on the front of his shorts gluing him to Kacchan’s leg. “Ass?
“Yeah, what else?”

“Um. But.” He knows the reason why he should be concerned about this, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but reasoning is hard to find in his head swimming with the nonsense it always fills with when he’s in prerut, “Kacchan’s ass is small. My dick is big.”

Yeah. That was pretty articulate, all things considered. Because there is no way he should be penetrating Kacchan in rut. Not to mention the physical imbalance of it, it could also make Kacchan’s alpha go through a drop. Yep. He pretty much just said all of that, though.

“I ain’t weak.” Kacchan sniffs pettily, a hand winding around Izuku’s waist before jerking, bringing Izuku’s crotch back flush with his thigh. Oh. Fuck. Wow. He’s at it again, quick humps against the best thigh in the world and it feels so fucking good. “You still got that shitty onahole?”

“Fuhhhhhck. Ah. Ah. Um. Kacchan.” He licks at his teeth, “The Ultra Fantasy Cockmilker?”

Kacchan’s scent scours before evening back out, “Yeah. Whatever you call it. I’m gonna need it, need some kind of stimulation on my knot or I’m gonna go through a drop. But other than that, we should be good.” 

“Mmm, bottom drawer of the nightstand? Can we have sex now? Kacchan?”

“What the fuck, hell no! Stop acting like a freak, yer not even in rut yet. Gotta make sure we have supplies and shit.”
“We do,” He rumbles, tucking his face back into Kacchan’s armpit, “Mm, love you. Love Kacchan. Looooove you.” His voice cracks on the last love you, tears starting to bubble in his eyes.

“What the fuck, why are you crying?”
“‘S my head. All jumbled up. Hormones, I think.”

“What are they telling you?”

“Wanna be close to Kacchan. In Kacchan. Close to Kacchan. I dunno, it keeps changing. Gotta keep Kacchan in our den and pup him. Wanna curl up inside Kacchan’s ribcage.”

“Ugh. Why are you still talking about the ribcage shit when yer fucking alpha’s supposed to be in charge?”

“Because I love youuu.” He sobs, his stressed-out scent filling the air of the genkan until Kacchan starts to card fingers through his hair. Ah. That feels really nice.

 His eyes dry up, and he sniffles into the shadow of Kacchan’s shoulder, clinging to Kacchan’s pretty waist.

“Are you chill now?”
“Mhm.”

“We’re gonna cuddle until mine starts, okay?”

“Mm. What about dinner, Kacchan?”

“I ain’t hungry. Are you?”

“Wanna eat Kacchan’s ass.”

“Okay. So we’re cuddling. Go to our nest, Izuku.” 

He can hear Kacchan’s footsteps padding behind him. This is good. His Kacchan will hold him and let him fuck him and he’ll be so good for Kacchan. He’ll make sure to plug Kacchan up nice and full with their pups.

“Can you shut the fuck up?!”

He chuffs back, crawling back into their bed, back into the nest Kacchan built for them, and lies on his back, watching Kacchan. 

Ah. Right. He shimmies out of Kacchan’s tank top and shorts, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. The moment his cock gets out, it bobs in the air, heavy and swollen with blood, drooling a constant line of pre. 

“Why are you getting naked already?” Kacchan frowns next to the bed, two plastic water bottles and some protein bars tucked under his arms.

“Don’t wanna wear clothes.” He licks at his lips, picking up at the venom spilling past the seam. Kacchan watches his tongue, which can’t be more than a sliver of pink through the muzzle. “Kacchan should take his off.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kacchan turns away from him to do it, peeling off his sweat-soaked uniform shirt. The muscles in his back flex, cutting sharp lines through the softness of his skin as he hunches down to shuck his pants off, too.

“Your underwear, too, Kacchan? Please?”

“Shut up. Don’t rush me.” As if to tease him, Kacchan takes the longest with his boxers hooking one thumb in and tugging down before even reaching for the other side.

He whines, long and loud enough to make his muzzle vibrate, “Kacchan, please.”

“Y’like that, you pervert?” 

“Yes-ahhh.” His mouth falls slack as Kacchan finally pulls his boxers off, finally baring the soft swell of his cheeks, the dip of gluteus medius honed from years of exercise, the slight hint of Kacchan’s cute ballsack through his parted thighs. 

Izuku swallows back drool, watching Kacchan’s ass. It’s so cute and perky but deadly at the same time. This is the ass that boosts Kacchan off of skyscrapers everyday. This is the ass that killed All for One.

“What’s going on in yer head, nerd?” Kacchan turns around, hands on his hips. His soft cocks lays against his thigh, dangling there, perfect and so pretty.

“Kacchan’s butt is powerful.”

“Whatever gets yer rocks off, freak.” Kacchan is smiling when he says it, though, and he tucks into Izuku’s side when he crawls into their nest. Wraps his arms around Izuku’s waist and stares down at their bare legs tangling together. Kacchan’s nearly smooth ones with a few patches of hair where his quirk hasn’t burned it off, and Izuku’s hairy ones that Kacchan always calls his sasquatch legs. Izuku’s boner is probably getting in the way of whatever Kacchan is looking at, but Kacchan doesn’t seem to mind, his scent coming out pleased. “This is good.”

“It’s ‘cuz Kacchan is here.”

Kacchan snorts, grabbing at one of Izuku’s hands until he can tangle their fingers together, “I like being here, with you. An’ I think this is gonna go better than yer nerd brain thinks it is.”

His logical side wants to argue, but it’s hard to listen to that part of him when he’s lying in a bed that smells like the perfect mix of the both of them and Kacchan is tracing soft circles into the sensitive hair on his stomach, and his heartbeat is beating steady in his dick, which he can semisuccessfully ignore because he’s hasn’t gone full-blown crazy yet. “Mhm?”

“Yeah. Let’s sleep for a while, Izuku. Then we’ll figure this shit out.”

With Kacchan wrapped around him, that’s not so hard.

“Fuh-uhckkkk.”

Izuku blinks awake, cotton filling his head as he tries to process. Hm. He has a muzzle on. Okay. He’s hard. Makes sense.

Oh. The bed is shaking. Kacchan isn’t in his arms anymore.

He turns his head, cheek squishing against his pillow as he faces the source of the rocking.

Kacchan, in all of his sweaty, naked glory, lays stomach down to the bed, eyelids drooping at half-mast, locked on Izuku as he fucks against the mattress, his dick hard and trapped between his stomach and the fitted sheet, which is soaked with a puddle of pre. The muscles in Kacchan’s right arm pop and flex as it curves behind him, his hand crooked down like art, his ring and middle finger thrusting harsh between his ass cheeks accompanied with the sweet shluck shluck of lube.

“K’cchan?” His mouth tastes dry before drool and venom starts to flood it, the smell of 

Kacchan is perfect. Alpha and strong and so, so wanting.

“Took y’ long enough.” Kacchan slurs his words, the fingers in his ass not stopping for a moment as he humps shortly against their bed. “Been waitin’.”

He sits up, his head feeling woozy from all of the blood in his dick, as he crowds behind Kacchan. His cock is heavy and thick, falling above Kacchan’s fingers. Fingers that retract as soon as Kacchan realizes what Izuku is trying to do, which is perfect because now he can rut perfectly against the line of Kacchan’s ass. Wedge his dick between the cheeks and just fuck.

“Stop actin’ like a virgin and just put it in already.” Kacchan growls, thrusting his ass in the air which feels even better, just sweet friction against Izuku. 

“Gimme–gimme a minute Kacchan.” He paws at Kacchan’s waist, gripping the meat there and letting himself rut, fuck himself between Kacchan’s ass cheeks and pant in the open air. The soft skin there presses sweet kisses to his uninflated knot.

“Fuck, quit making me wait.” Kacchan’s growl is loud, vibrating his whole body which, fuuuuuuuuck, that feels good.
“Good. Good. S’ good, K’cchan.” 

Kacchan growls again, “Shitty alpha.”

He bucks Izuku off. Izuku’s stomach swoops as he falls backward, losing to gravity and falling of the bed, his head smacking against the floor. He doesn’t have time to let it clear before Kacchan is sliding off the bed after him, crouching over him. Before a hand is squeezing around his throat, forcing him to submit.

Kacchan is going to kill him or try to mount him. He isn’t sure which option is worse.

“K’cchan, please, wait, we can talk about this.”
“No more talking, Deku.” Kacchan grabs at his dick–what’s he trying to do?!– pointing it straight in the air, hovering over it, falling down–

“FUCK!” He screams it, his head slamming back against the ground as Kacchan’s asshole swallows him whole, the force of Kacchan’s weight pinning his hips to the ground. Kacchan is warm and choking, searing harsh pleasure through his dick, “K’cchan, K’cchan, K’cchan.”

“Yeah? Y’like that?” Kacchan braces himself by leaning back and grabbing at Izuku’s thighs. He grinds, his ass flush to Izuku’s base, taking all of Izuku so good. 

Izuku can see his dick through Kacchan’s stomach, from the angle of Kacchan leaning back onto his hands like this. He’s pretty sure he can see himself twitch. Fuck.

“K’cchan feels so good.”

“Mhm? What about it?” Kacchan smirks evilly, starting to adjust and go from a grind to the smallest of bobs, sweet up and downs that keep Izuku fully sheathed, his knot stimulated and starting to grow. “Fuuuck. Can feel you getting bigger. Fuck.”

“K’cchan’s so tight.” He gasps out, wet and loud as Kacchan clenches around him, watching Izuku wheeze for breath from the clasp of Kacchan around him, “So tight. So wet. Fuck. Feels perfect. K’cchan’s so perfect.”

“Shit. Hold still.” Kacchan leans forward, some of Izuku slipping out and making him whine, begging. Kacchan ignores him, bracing himself on Izuku’s chest, his clasped hands forming a inverted V as he steadies himself. And then he slams his ass back down. Again. And again. The smack of it is obscene, loud as a shout and wet with sweat and lube and pre as the bottom of Kacchan’s thighs smack against the top of Izuku’s. “Fuck. Where d’you get off on having a dick this big, hah? D’you have anything else worth anything?”

“No,” He gasps out the promise, “Just for Kacchan. Only for Kacchan.”
“That’s right. Yer mine. Only Kacchan’s, you got it?”

“Yes, yes, yes, only K’cchan’s. Only K’cchan’s.” His fingers are digging, scratching into Kacchan’s thighs as he tries to hold onto anything. Keep a grasp on any of it. “Wanna make K’cchan feel good. Wanna be good. Wanna pup K’cchan. K’cchan? Pups?”

“Wanna knock me up, nerd?” Kacchan sneers it, leaning over, nose so close to Izuku’s that he can feel Kacchan’s breath burning against his face. “Wanna fill me up with all yer nasty jizz?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Please, K’cchan. K’cchan.”

“You can try, with that gross thing you call a dick. Yer shitty knot probably won’t even keep all it in.”

His dick zings with the meanness of it, his knot swelling, hard and fast.
Kacchan tenses up painfully, too tight, his pretty face screwing up, his scent filling the air wrought with pain and an injured alpha. 

Fuck. He reaches a hand out blindly, trying to find any way to fix this, to help his mate, to make it so Kacchan doesn’t hurt. 

His palm brushes against Kacchan’s dick, wet with sweat and slightly tacky lube, and Kacchan untenses just a fraction, barely noticeable, his scent still pained. 

This is probably the best handjob Izuku has ever given. Kacchan doesn’t have enough to warrant using two hands, but Izuku does, keeping one at the base of Kacchan and squeezing and unsqueezing, milking at Kacchan’s knot. The other makes passes, quick and fast and curved into a circle, his thumb swiping out to play with Kacchan’s tip. He twists and strokes and spills out praises of, So hard, Kacchan. Feels so soft. What a pretty dick, Kacchan.

Kacchan’s eyes flutter open, watching Izuku flounder at trying to fix this. He lets out a sigh, and then jerks once, making his hole kiss at Izuku’s knot while he fucks into Izuku’s hands. “Yeah, like that, nerd.”
Izuku nods, his bangs sticking sweaty to his forehead as he keeps at it, twisting his wrist with his bottom lip pinched between his fangs. “Kacchan are you okay?”

“Yer bigger in rut.” Is all Kacchan supplies as he fucks Izuku’s already busted hands to soreness, his hole constantly teasing at Izuku’s nearly fully inflated knot. “Didn’t realize it.”

“Um. Hormones and swelling.” Is the most intelligent reply he can muster, with the constant pulse of Kacchan so close to his knot. 

Speaking of knots, he can feel Kacchan’s starting to grow against the hand playing with it, insistent in its arousal, as Kacchan’s hole clenches around his dick, “Kacchan, close?”

“Yeah, nerd. Hah,” Kacchan’s hands claw leverage into Izuku’s lower abs as he rocks, hard, fucking himself into Izuku’s hands and back onto Izuku’s dick, “Yer gonna shove it in me when I cum, got it?”

“Wuh.” His hands loosen, in surprise, and Kacchan growls harshly until he retightens his grip around Kacchan’s dick, “Um.”

His instincts are flaring in his head. Yes, his knot has to go into Kacchan, to make sure it takes, to pup Kacchan like he deserves. To tie them together so he can fuck his claim as deep into Kacchan as possible. It sounds like a great idea, to press and fuck into Kacchan when he’s all loose and submissive in his orgasm. 

It also sounds like the perfect way to tear something.

“K’cchan, I’ve got a knot toy, I don’t have to, fuuuuck.” He’s stopped midsentence by Kacchan choosing to fuck back hard on his dick, like he’s trying to milk Izuku for all he’s worth. “Knot, Kacchan? Okay?”

“Okay.” Kacchan breathes out before he tenses, his abs clenching and his hole getting impossibly tight around Izuku, his knot swelling hard and fast in Izuku’s scarred hands. “Oh fuuuuuuhck.”

Cum, warm and thick, splatters across his stomach, hitting his neck, his chin. He squeezes Kacchan’s knot in his hand and more spurts out, one quick shot before it starts to drip out lethargically in the way it should when the knot has taken in a nice, warm hole to ensure a pregnancy. 

Kacchan untenses in his afterglow, his hole weakly spasming around Izuku’s cock, the dick in Izuku’s hands softening even while the knot stays hard. 

Izuku braces his soles flat against the floor, knees bent, and slams upward. There’s a moment where Kacchan’s hole doesn’t surrender, suckling around his cock but refusing to allow anymore in, before the inevitability of the thrust pushes it inwards, forcing Izuku’s knot in.
“SHIT!” Kacchan’s walls pulse and choke against all of Izuku, Kacchan squirming above him.

He lets go of Kacchan’s dick to grab at muscled hips, forcing Kacchan to stay flush to his groin as he fucks them up and down, up and down, his balls lifting.

“K’cchan, ‘m close. G’nna pup you. K’cchank’chhank’chAhhhhhhh!” He gasps the last part, his knot fully inflating and bullying space for itself in Kacchan’s battered walls, cum shooting through his dick, filling his mate as he plugs him full, fangs aching for something to claim. “K’cchan, so tight. Perfect, K’cchan. Love you. Love you. Love you so much.”

White noise fills his head as he pulses for what feels like an eternity and a second, his breath coming out ragged as his dick lights up with the fire of orgasm, a rumble vibrating through his chest at knotting his Kacchan. His hands stay gripping at Kacchan’s hips, keeping them together while his knot ties them.

“Izuku.” 

The fuzz starts to dissipate, and his nose fills with the sour scent of a sickly alpha. He blinks his eyes open, clearing away the tears that had bubbled there.

Kacchan shakes above him, his chin dipping towards his chest as his hands cling to Izuku’s stomach. His knot is purple, veins bulging out while it pulses a disgustingly off-tempo beat, begging for some kind of stimulation.

“Kacchan!” His hand flies out, squeezing at Kacchan’s knot, “‘m so sorry. I’ll fix this, it’ll be okay.”

Kacchan keens, his face twisted in pain as his scent screams an impending drop.

Izuku tenses his legs and then forces his weight forward, which makes Kacchan clench around him as he stands, keeping both arms around Kacchan’s waist to ensure he doesn’t fall or get any kind of tugging from Izuku’s knot. Kacchan’s legs wrap around him instinctively, his arms hooking around Izuku’s neck to bring them flush, chest-to-chest.

Izuku stumbles to the nightstand, trying to peer past Kacchan’s head as he digs through the drawers.

Bottom drawer. The Ultra Fantasy Cockmilker, in all of its transparent, cylindrical glory.

He snatches it and turns Kacchan’s back to the bed, letting himself fall forward.

Kacchan lands with an oof, an escape of air, his cock and knot getting squished between them, and Izuku’s hand shoots out, gripping at Kacchan’s length while the other slides the onahole to Kacchan’s tip.

It goes over easy with a slurping sound, lubed from the constant drip of cum from Kacchan’s dick, and the pressure of it around Kacchan’s knot eases the diseased smell in the air to something slightly tense.

“Kacchan, okay?” Izuku nuzzles into Kacchan’s neck, trying to lick at his scent gland through the muzzle

Kacchan lets out a huff, annoyance tinging his scent, “Told you I needed stimulation.”

“‘M so sorry, Kacchan, ‘m so, so, so sorry.” Tears stream down his face, pooling in the line where the muzzle presses into his skin.

“‘S fine, just something we gotta work on.” Kacchan’s left leg hooks around Izuku’s waist, pulling him closely. It also makes him shoot another string of cum into Kacchan, but that’s to be expected, “C’mere. Wanna kiss you.”

Puzzled, he leans in, Kacchan’s hands coming up to cradle his face and guiding him until Kacchan’s lips press to the part of the muzzle just above Izuku’s mouth. A tongue laves at the outside of the mesh, wetting the fabric, and Izuku’s slips out on instinct, trying to brush Kacchan’s as best as he can. To even touch Kacchan’s, he has to let his mouth fall slack, which squishes his nose against the muzzle and makes it so he has to breath through his mouth in harsh, hah, hah, hahs. 

Kacchan draws back, a pretty smirk on his flushed pink face, “Yer so pathetic.”

“Love Kacchan so much.”

The leg around his waist kicks his butt, forcing him forward, his knot fucking deeper into Kacchan. He lets out a sharp wheeze, the motion reigniting the fuzz of his rut that had slightly cleared from cumming. “K’cchan, are you sure?”

Kacchan, as best he can while laying on his back, fucks back onto Izuku’s dick while one hand snakes down to squeeze at his cock in the onahole, “Thought you wanted to put a baby in me, nerd, already calling it quits?”

Their bedframe slams hard against the wall as Izuku fucks the person he loves most into the mattress.

The next few days pass with few moments of clarity. Kacchan beneath him on his hands and knees gasping out Izuku’s name. Kacchan on his back, face screwed tight as Izuku’s knot swells within him and the inside of the onahole clouds with semen. The very brief moment Kacchan unstraps the muzzle from Izuku’s face to let him tongue at Kacchan’s pretty, puffy and impossibly pink hole. The bitter taste of Kacchan’s cum as Izuku sucks Kacchan’s fingers clean. Kacchan rumbling, pleased, as their dicks slide together, sweet and fast. Their very last orgasm, at the same time, as they lay on their sides while Izuku fucked slowly into Kacchan, using his bicep as a pillow for Kacchan to lay his pretty head on. 

He thinks he’s about to enter the post rut phase as Kacchan cooks them dinner (or breakfast? Or lunch? He’s not sure. They haven’t eaten consistently in five days.). He watches Kacchan prod at the stir fry with a spatula, peering around his arm.

“Why are you still being so clingy? Thought we were all done.” Kacchan says it like he’s being mean, but Izuku can smell the happy, fucked-outness of his scent. 

“Just love Kacchan too much. Wanna be with him.”

Kacchan’s hand reaches back, to rub at Izuku’s scarred cheek; he presses into it, nuzzling his nose against the soft palm. “Yeah, yeah. I’m the best, obviously. Clearly the better alpha, since I’m the one actually making sure we eat.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” He presses his frown into Kacchan’s T1 vertebrae, “I made sure Kacchan didn’t fall in the toilet!”
“Yeah, ‘cuz you gotta act like some clingy mutt when yer shitty alpha’s in control. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was falling in that toilet, nerd.” 

“Kacchan’s the better alpha just because Kacchan’s the best.” Izuku concludes, giving Kacchan a squeeze.

Kacchan starts to rumble, easy and soothing, and he joins in, relishing in the way he can finally rub the skin of his face against Kacchan without the muzzle. Relishing in the lack of sting from wearing it, because Kacchan took such great care of him and rubbed Aquaphor into the places where it was chafing. 

Kacchan finally elbows him off, “Set the table, freak. We gotta talk.”

“Talk?” His scent wilts at the implication, and Kacchan’s heightens, soothing his anxiety.

“We’re partners. So we gotta figure out what worked with this rut and what didn’t. Yer stuck with me, nerd.”

“Oh!” He straightens up, “Wait! Lemme go grab my notebook, I need to write down the main points.”

“Take yer time, I’m not going anywhere.”

He can feel Kacchan’s eyes watching him, smell the fresh chai and sweet tea of his alpha’s love. Izuku knows his scent mirrors this, in its own tones, and it makes him smile as he walks through their apartment. Their home, that’s full of their things and their scents and their love.

As they sit side-by-side at the kitchen island, he watches Kacchan’s jaw flex as he talks, the soft down of his hair brushing against his ears. Kacchan needs a haircut, something he’ll do in the bathroom with an electric razor while Izuku sits on the toilet to watch.

 His eyes slide down the line of Kacchan’s throat, to the thin skin of his gland that shivers when he talks. He leans forward, closing his eyes, and presses a kiss to it. It’s soft and impossibly fragile against his lips.

Kacchan freezes in his monologue, his hand squeezing Izuku’s, and then he continues, pink spreading across his face. Like Izuku didn’t just do that. Like Kacchan isn’t the prettiest alpha in the world.

My alpha, Izuku thinks, his cheeks aching from his smile.