the plural pronoun is a dangerous fiction

by orgiastique

Summary:

Hitoshi hesitates. He and Izuku are mates, sure, but Hitoshi is still Izuku’s government-issue omega, and Bakugou is the love of his life. Hitoshi gets that.

He knows they need their alone time, and Hitoshi doesn’t mind being alone, which is why he’s always opted to sleep in the next room whenever Bakugou comes over.

or, Shinsou uses his exceptional powers of omega suggestion to provide some knotting assistance. Feelings get messy.

Notes:

• For SeasonalSaison.

thank you so so much for requesting shbkdk!! i had an absolute blast with this one. hope you enjoy! <3

flagging a few things: izuku is an ftm alpha here. it's briefly mentioned that he gets wet. his knot plays a huge (HUGE) role to the plot :) katsuki is a cis male beta, and his hole gets referred to as a pussy once. the kink is somewhat under-negotiated but it's all consensual.

the plural pronoun is a dangerous fiction the source
of so much unexpected loneliness
- emily bryant voigt

 

Hitoshi knows matings of convenience where either the couple gets along like a house on fire—because, apparently, love or lust really can be predicted by a government algorithm—or the relationship blows up in flames.

As with most things in Hitoshi’s life, he finds himself in somewhat of a grey zone.

He slips through the door, quiet as a shadow, unfazed by the darkness of the apartment. He’s a creature of the night, slithering silent and sinuous through the space until he reaches the en suite bedroom. The scent drifting through the apartment is strongest here. Hitoshi stands at the doorway, watching, just watching, the rise and fall of two bodies lumped together under the comforter.

He likes to watch them sometimes, just to see what color the grass is on the other side.

Green—not that he can distinguish color in the darkness; some things he knows by heart—curly hair emerges from the cocoon. Hitoshi’s mate. His round eyes blink blearily open, long lashes fluttering. The covers fall off his shoulder. His freckles are another thing Hitoshi knows by heart. He’s spent enough time tracing them like constellations in the sky. (If Hitoshi is darkness, being with Izuku means something like having a sparkle of starlight within him.)

“Hitoshi-kun, welcome home. Did you eat? Kacchan made nabe.”

His voice is gentle, slightly worn from use. It falls over Hitoshi like a blanket. If not for the way his scent hits Hitoshi like a brickwall, Hitoshi would never believe that this man is an alpha prime. Apparently, he wasn’t at one point in his life, back when he’d fallen in love with his beta lover, far before he was placed with Hitoshi, whose job is to keep him from going feral. Hitoshi would say he can’t imagine what that’d be like, but he’s been with Izuku through a few ruts by now. He can see it. 

Izuku’s alpha is all teeth and claws and hammering hips, and mine mine mine. 

“Midoriya,” he acknowledges. He never calls him by his family name in his mind. It’s always Izuku. His shining alpha. His mate for life. But he shouldn’t be thinking of him that way. Not when he’s found him like this. “Go back to sleep. I’ll go to the other room.”

“Two fucking AM.” The other half of the lump stirs. “This why you got those hideous eyebags, Eyebags. Don’t you ever sleep?”

Hitoshi laughs in spite of himself. “Sorry for being so hideous in your presence, your grace Lord Explosion Murder.” Bakugou is a litigator, and that’s the nickname he’s earned himself in court. Hilarious.

Izuku throws a disapproving look at Bakugou, who sighs very loudly. He flops over toward the far side of the bed, making room for another body.

“Don’t be an idiot. ‘S a king-size bed. Get in.”

Izuku smiles, patting the space next to him. “We saved you a spot. You’ll fit right here.”

Hitoshi hesitates. He and Izuku are mates, sure, but Hitoshi is still Izuku’s government-issue omega, and Bakugou is the love of his life. Hitoshi gets that.

He knows they need their alone time, and Hitoshi doesn’t mind being alone. That’s why he opts to sleep in the next room whenever Bakugou comes over. Well, technically, what Hitoshi does is stay out late enough that he doesn’t have to listen to the headboard beat down the shared wall for half the night, before returning at two AM to sleep in the next room.

Hitoshi doesn’t mind being alone.

But he’s not enough of a masochist to stick around listening to his mate make love to someone else all night while he lies alone in a cold bed.

Things might be different, maybe, if—

Izuku gets out of bed and makes it very, very, very, very hard for Hitoshi to keep his thoughts straight. It’s not only that Hitoshi is but a simple omega who’s never seriously imagined having a mate at all, never mind an alpha who smells like a goddamn feast all the time and has the body of a Greek god and talks to small children with such kindness that makes Hitoshi’s stupid empty uterus ache but, well—

Izuku is wearing nothing but Bakugou’s marks on his skin. Hitoshi swallows, hard, watching a viscous line drip down the inside of his thigh. Izuku wipes some off on a corner of the sheet. Bakugou smirks when he catches Hitoshi’s eye.

Izuku stands in front of him, smelling sex-soft and content. Hitoshi knows what Bakugou smells like, but he’s never smelled it so fresh, so thick, intermingled with Izuku’s intimately like this. Izuku reaches up to unbutton the black dress shirt Hitoshi wore to sing at Denki’s bar earlier tonight.

“You smell like strawberry cheesecake,” he comments, pressing his lips to a shoulder. “Do you want to take off your scent patch?”

“I—” Hitoshi clears the troupe of frogs out of his throat and reaches back to tear off his patches. He crumples them up in his pocket. Izuku immediately moves to mouth the exposed glands, rumbling deep in his chest. “—uh. Got some with Denki. It’s. Ah. Ice cream.”

Izuku naturally runs hotter than Hitoshi, and his tongue feels like fire over Hitoshi’s scent gland. The inside of his mouth even tastes hot when he gets up on his tip-toes to kiss Hitoshi. That might just be the nabe. Kimchi, maybe. Hitoshi runs his hands down Izuku’s chest, his sides, over scars and bruises and warm, sensitive skin. 

Hitoshi’s always been weak to Izuku’s warmth, among other things. This is why he’s never thought of objecting to this peculiar little arrangement, even when he found out about Bakugou. It helps that for as much of an asshole as Bakugou is, he’s beautiful and smart and not actually that much of an asshole once you get used to his specific flavor of assholery.

Or, you know. Once he stops snarling at you long enough to put an extra portion of dinner in the fridge or demand your presence at movie night or (more recently) offer to cut your hair because he “was gonna do Deku’s anyway.”

It’s taken a year to get to this point.

And now, Hitoshi is down to his uncomfortably damp boxers, kissing Bakugou’s boyfriend in front of him. Hitoshi feels like he’s seriously pushing his luck here, but what’s he gonna do—not kiss Izuku back? Crazy.

Izuku leads him by the hand to the bed. Bakugou’s bright red eyes track their movements. Hitoshi hesitates again, and Bakugou sighs even louder this time before hooking an arm around his waist and drag-shoving him the rest of the way in.

Izuku surprises him by ducking under the covers and going down on him. 

“Midoriya—” Hitoshi gasps.

Bakugou snorts and mocks, “Midoriya,” in a high-pitched voice.

See? Asshole.

But he’s like… an attractive asshole whose clammy hand is on Hitoshi’s thigh, keeping him open for Izuku. Hitoshi kind of finds it cute that Bakuou’s so sweaty. Is that why he always smells so nice even though he’s a beta? Because his excess sweat carries his sweet flavor, beckoning greedy omegas near for a taste?

(Hitoshi’s never had enough of much of anything in life to be greedy about it, and it’s left him a man starved.)

“You’re the last person I want to hear talk about calling people by their name,” Hitoshi retorts, too breathless to be effective.

Bakugou ignores him and coos, “You hear him purrin’ like a sweet lil’ kitten, Deku?” in a way that’s definitely at least a little condescending. 

Hitoshi really should chomp his fingers off when he sticks two into his mouth, but his fingers taste like Izuku’s slick, and a desperate keen escapes the back of his throat instead.

“You taste him on my fingers, sweetheart? Betcha like that, huh.”

Izuku lets out a groan that travels up Hitoshi’s core. Hitoshi clutches the sheets, panting. He’s going to finish embarrassingly fast. Izuku knows all the cheat codes to his body. He probably would’ve finished even faster if Bakugou weren’t staring at him so intently like—what? He wants to punch him? Kiss him?

Hard to believe it’d be the latter.

When he comes, he turns his head away, buries his face in the pillow. Bakugou lets him go, fingers slipping free and leaving a wet trail on Hitoshi’s cheek.

He’s still catching his breath when Izuku rests his head on his belly and tells him, “You should’ve been here earlier, Hitoshi-kun. Kacchan made it his mission to fuck me unconscious. It was amazing.”

“You were pissin’ me off,” Bakugou corrects. He pets the soft undercut of Hitoshi’s hair. He did a pretty decent job with it. “Thinkin’ I can’t handle you just ‘cos you’re close to rut.”

Hitoshi squints open an eye down at Izuku. “You won’t fuck him when you’re close to rut? Isn’t that exactly when you’d want to?”

Izuku works his teeth over his bottom lip. “I-I want to. But I don’t want to hurt him. Especially with my knot.”

“Tch. Dumbest thing I ever heard,” Bakugou says.

It’s not that stupid. Izuku’s knot is big. Biggest Hitoshi’s ever taken, anyway. Big and hard and perfect. Hitoshi prefers making Izuku whimper and tremble for him on his strap, but he’d happily sit on his knot all day and night. He’s never taken it in his ass, though. Seems ambitious, but not impossible.

“It’s happened before,” Izuku mumbles.

“Happened once. And I was fine. We’ve been over this.”

“I know,” Izuku sighs. “Just makes me nervous.”

Bakugou lifts up onto his elbows, looming over Hitoshi. “He fucks you all he wants during rut, doesn’t he.” 

Hitoshi considers his response, trying to puzzle together Bakugou’s sudden interest in him. The pet names. Bringing him into the conversation—this conversation in particular. Bakugou is clearly possessive over Izuku. Does that mean he likes playing with Izuku’s things? Is that what this is?

Not that Hitoshi needs Bakugou to like him or anything. He doesn’t mind being just on the periphery of their orbit, no more than he minds being alone. 

(But, if he’s totally honest for a moment, maybe he does mind feeling alone when he’s with these two. Just a little.)

Hitoshi raises his eyebrows. “What, you wanna see how the pros do it?”

He watches Bakugou’s gaze catch flame in real-time. Ninety-nine reasons his parents kept sending him away as a kid, but playing with fire was not one of them. Looks like he’s well on his way to arson now.

Bakugou snatches Hitoshi’s jaw in one hand. “You think you can take Deku’s knot better than me?”

“I’m an omega.” Hitoshi tips up his chin. Stares down his nose at Bakugou to let him know that this is not a point of shame. “Omegas are made to get slick and knotted and bred.”

Bakugou licks his lips. His gaze falls to Hitoshi’s throat. His hand follows. It’s not quite squeezing, but Bakugou can surely feel Hitoshi’s pulse quicken under the firm pressure.

“You got at least one more trick up your sleeve, don’t you?”

“Kacchan,” Izuku warns.

“You could Suggest that he get over himself and fuck me.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku stresses. “You don’t have to do that, Hitoshi-kun.”

“Your call,” Bakugou agrees easily. “He likes your voice, you know that? Likes it when you put little suggestions in his head. Tell him what to do. Keep his alpha on your leash so he doesn’t have to worry about a thing.” His fingers curl gently at the base of Hitoshi’s throat, almost a caress. “Your special little gift keeps him safe.”

Hitoshi feels his breath hitch, and it has nothing to do with Bakugu’s hand on him. He’s had his “special little gift” described a colorful number of ways over the years. Omegan wiles. Freak of nature. Brainwashing. Alphas are wary of him. Omegas and betas—even his own dam—hide their mates away from him.

With great power comes great burden, he supposes. Not all omegas can Suggest, and Hitoshi’s been told his omega sings a siren song to the alpha brain. He supposes it would be easy enough to use his voice to seduce alphas into submission or be a homewrecker or whatever else people assume of him. But Aizawa-sensei, the first person to truly believe in him, once told him: if an alpha’s strength is made to protect the pack, an omega’s Suggestion is made to protect the alpha right back.

Hitoshi decided long ago that he would use his voice for good, and that was that. 

He knows that Izuku sees the good in him; Izuku sees the good in everyone. He doesn’t expect Bakugou to see it the same way. To trust him not only to use his voice for good, but to use it on his special person.

Longing creeps up the walls of his chest like ivy, squeezing painfully around his heart. He reaches for Izuku, stroking the fuzz of his chin. “Do you want me to help you fuck him?”

Izuku’s eyes are naked vulnerability, but they’re glowing green, green, green in the darkness. “You won’t let me hurt him?”

“You won’t hurt him. I won’t let you. I’ll hold onto your alpha the whole time.” Izuku just needs to answer to his Suggestion once, and Hitoshi can reach through their bond to keep his alpha pliant but not unaware. “Do you want that?” 

Izuku closes his eyes and nods. “Please,” he whispers, nuzzling his face into Hitoshi’s hand.

He’s so sweet Hitoshi almost doesn’t want to share him. He’s so sweet Hitoshi wants to give him anything he could ever want and everything he’s afraid to ask for. 

He watches Izuku’s eyes blink open and grapple for Bakugou in the darkness. A whole conversation takes place in the silence. On the street, the distant sound of traffic. The hooting of an owl outside their window. Izuku’s scent begins to shift, from sour anxiety to something pungent and electric.

“Jesus.” Bakugou slides a look at Hitoshi. “Can’t imagine what he smells like to you.” 

Sex. And thunderstorms. Fucking in a parked car while lightning cleaves the ground open.

Izuku grind his hips shallowly, the hard shape of him leaking and twitching against Hitoshi’s leg. Hitoshi tugs at Izuku’s hair, makes him whine.

He loosens his hold when Izuku shifts back to sit on his knees. Cold air washes over Hitoshi’s body momentarily before Bakugou gets wrangled over on top of him, limbs braced around Hitoshi’s body.

“Hang on to him for me, Hitoshi-kun,” Izuku says.

Bakugou’s warm breath strokes Hitoshi’s cheek when he grumbles out, “Don’t gotta manhandle me. Stupid alpha.”

He’s never seen Bakugou’s face from so close up before. He would say that he can see his pores from here but his skin is virtually poreless. His pale hair frames his perfect face, moonbright.

Damn. Men really are not all created equal, are they.

Hitoshi is so distracted by Bakugou’s infuriating good looks he doesn’t catch on to what Izuku is mumbling about from behind Bakugou until he feels thick fingers sweep through his wet folds, briefly teasing his small cock. Hitoshi sucks in a sharp breath. The touch is gone too soon, then it’s Bakugou’s turn be caught off-guard. He shoves his groan into the crook of Hitoshi’s shoulder.

“That his?” Bakugou rasps.

“It’s supposed to help,” Izuku tells. “And he’s made so much of it. Our good omega.”

“Mmhm,” Bakugou acknowledges, then bites Hitoshi’s neck close to his bondmark. He keens. “You needy, baby? I don’t mind fucking you while he fucks me.”

It’s not unreasonable. Hitoshi wants to be a good omega. He wants to be good, period. He… doesn’t hate being Bakugou’s needy baby, even. 

But something snags like a thorn in his mind.

I don’t mind. 

Is that I don’t mind like Bakugou’s doing Hitoshi a favor by fucking him? Like Hitoshi’s the only one desperate and wanting? 

I don’t mind like Hitoshi doesn’t mind feeling the heat of their love from a distance?

He feels a hollow pang, and when he speaks, he reaches for his omega register without meaning to: “Try asking nicely.”

Bakugou chuckles. “Your party trick won’t work on me, pretty.”

Fuck.

Hitoshi knows that, dammit.

He’s embarrassed as hell and so, so weirdly fucked up over this like a fucking idiot that he blurts out, “You don’t even want me.”

Bakugou slants his head to study him. “Wow.”

“What does that mean?”

“Do you want me?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Just answer the question, Shinsou.”

Bakugou’s voice has gone soft. Izuku’s stopped what he’s doing. The pause is patient. It probably says too much about Hitoshi that he has a harder time swallowing a sweet pill than a bitter one.

“Of course I do,” he admits, eventually. “Look at you.”

Izuku lets out a breath.

“Good,” Bakugou says, looking genuinely pleased. “Gonna show you how much I want you back.”

He lips taste like he’s spent a significant amount of time between Izuku’s thighs. He kisses Hitoshi hard at first, then soft, and sensual, like he’s licking into Hitoshi, too. He cups one hand around the side of his head, and smooths the other up Hitoshi’s arm until his fingers are cuffed around his wrist. Bakugou’s palms are sweaty and smooth, and it almost feels like holding hands, but less intense in some ways, more in others (in possessiveness, for example).

Hitoshi gets to devour the shape of Bakugou’s moan when Izuku strokes inside of him just right. He anchors a hand against Bakugou’s chest, and feels his heart thunder under his hand.

“Kacchan thinks you’re so pretty, Hitoshi-kun,” Izuku’s voice reaches around Bakugou, curling over Hitoshi’s cheek. “He likes that you’re clever and prideful and mouthy. Don’t you, Kacchan?”

“Shut up, Deku,” Bakugou grumbles, but doesn’t deny a word of it. 

Hitoshi’s mind is spinning. Izuku is drowning the room in his pheromones, which is not helping either. But slowly and surely, the pieces are clicking together. The food in the fridge. The movie nights. The haircut. Tonight. All of this. He gets why Izuku wants him here; it’s easy to understand why he’d want to bridge the two worlds between his alpha and his heart. Hitoshi already knows that Izuku likes him, that Hitoshi is important to him in some ways. 

But Bakugou—he has no reason to share his soulmate with Hitoshi, to offer him a place in their life, other than that he wants him there. Plain and simple. He’s been trying to show Hitoshi that.

And Hitoshi’s been terrified to accept it. Terrified that it will turn out to be nothing more than a love-hungry mirage. 

If Hitoshi just keeps his distance—maintains his nest in the other room; makes himself sparse when Bakugou comes over; stay in the safety of the grey zone he’s painted for himself—his insatiable craving for belonging won’t eat him alive.

Hitoshi is coming to the sudden realization that, maybe, the reason it’s taken this long to come to this point is not because of Bakugou.

 

 

Because, see:

Hitoshi doesn’t mind being alone. Except when he’s watching Izuku and Bakugou be in love without him.

 

 

“Hey.” Bakugou pets his thumb across Hitoshi’s jaw. “Where’d you go?”

“I—” Hitoshi’s heart chokes in his throat. He feels small and young. Eight years old and asking to be held. “You really want me. To keep me. Both of you?”

“You think Deku would’ve bonded you otherwise?” Bakugou says. “What did you think that meant?”

Hitoshi was trying not to read too much into it. Chalked it up to biological imperatives and convenient things like that.

“We want to keep you so much,” Izuku says because whereas Bakugou clearly prefers to show his feelings in actions, Izuku knows Hitoshi needs to hear the words, too. “We will. For as long as you’ll have us. I’m sorry that hasn’t been clear.”

Hitoshi shakes his head. “It’s not—uh. No. I think it’s me. I—” He lets out a loose, self-deprecating laugh. “I have a hard time counting myself in.” To put it lightly.

“So we give you more time. Talk about it till the sun comes up,” Bakugou says. “We can wait on everything else. Don’t needa do anything right now.”

Hitoshi’s chest feels too small for his heart expanding with the warmth of all their bodies, pressed together, on the precipice of something that feels anything but grey. (Pink, maybe, like affection.)

“You’re such a good boy,” he tells him. He has the inside scoop on how Bakugou reacts to that one. “You can fuck me next time. But I won’t make you wait for your knot.” Then: “I don’t want to wait.”

Bakugou bites his lip, peering his dark eyes back toward Izuku. He tenses when Izuku slips inside him again. “Gonna return the favor next time,” he chokes out.

“Pinky swear,” he teases just to see Bakugou’s perfect brows furrow. “You’re so cute.”

“He gets all loose and happy when you praise him,” Izuku says.

Hitoshi hums. He really, really likes that. Smart, gorgeous Bakugou with the fancy watches and high-power job, easy for a bit of praise in bed. 

“He’d look so pretty stretched around your knot. Is he ready? Does our good boy get to have what he wants now, alpha?”

A new wave of Izuku’s scent floods the air. Hitoshi has to fight to keep his own head.

“You feel so good on my fingers, Kacchan. Soft and silky. Wanna be inside you.” Izuku’s voice is shaky with restraint. “Want to knot you so bad.”

Bakugou groans, burying his face in Hitoshi’s chest. Hitoshi puts a hand over the back of his neck, holding his sweet shyness there for safekeeping, letting him hide.

“Alpha’s got a wet, willing omega in his bed but you’re the one he wants to knot. Can’t blame him. You’re just so beautiful.”

Bakugou’s quiet whine sings like dopamine in Hitoshi’s veins. He squeezes the hand around Hitoshi’s wrist. “Now. I want him now.”

Izuku’s scent flares again as he lines himself up. It’s mostly his thick, heady alpha musk, but an undercurrent of anxiety sneaks through.

“He’s yours, isn’t he?” Hitoshi extends his voice, low and melodic.

“Mine,” Izuku breathes, letting himself fall. 

Hitoshi snatches him right up. 

“Then kiss him, alpha,” he says. “Run your lips down his back. Worship every inch of his skin. Don’t think about anything but making him feel perfect.”

Izuku obeys. He gets so soft and doting, Bakugou melts quickly into a needy puddle under his attention. Hitoshi’s overheard enough to know that this is one of the many ways they love each other; that Izuku thrives on giving pleasure, and eats up every one of the tortured noises Bakugou gives in return.

Hitoshi is wet as the ocean between his legs and he doesn’t even care. He just wants to bask in the heat of their love for now, knowing that he gave them some part of this. Hitoshi watches Izuku’s eyelids flutter, hips stuttering forward. Bakugou’s mouth falls open against Hitoshi’s shoulder with a moan as Izuku inches in slowly.

“Go on, alpha. Trust that he knows what he wants. That he wants the feral part of you that you wouldn’t give to anyone else.”

“Oh my god,” Bakugou whimpers. 

Hitoshi bites back a moan of his own, feeling the wet tip of Bakugou’s cock drag temptingly over his stomach. “See how pretty he’s presenting for you? Face down, ass up, pretty pussy glistening with his want for you, just you? Your proud beta wouldn’t do this for anyone else. Only his alpha.”

Blunt teeth sink around his nipple. Hitoshi gasps, and the teeth tug. He bites his nails into Bakugou’s muscled back. Izuku starts to find a rhythm. Each of his thrusts lands heavy and hard. The bed frame moans. Bakugou moans louder.

Izuku secures his hands around Bakugou’s waist, shockingly thin for how thick he is everywhere else. Hitoshi wonders if Izuku ever imagines him not quite so narrow there. Hitoshi knows he does.

“So won’t you give him what he’s asking for? What you want, too? To fuck him and breed him… make him round with your pups?” Bakugou makes a choked sound, and a hot little spurt of fluid drips onto Hitoshi’s hip. It fans the fire building in Hitoshi’s core. “Won’t you, alpha? I know you will because you’re a good alpha, and a good man. Noble, kind, gentle. And fucking your thick alpha knot inside of him doesn’t change a thing about that. So fuck him the way your alpha is desperate to. He is all yours. Yours to love, yours to claim, yours to breed.”

Izuku is slamming into Bakugou hard enough to send Hitoshi skidding up the headboard. Bakugou’s voice splinters on a scream, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He looks too fucking good not to kiss.

Izuku must agree. He turns Bakugou’s head with a hand splayed across his chin and throat and kisses him so deep and with such aching desperation, it looks like desire in liquid form, spilling from one open mouth to another. 

Hitoshi is right there to catch all the overflow, and it’s not a heartbreaking thing. He’s happy to see them happy. Pleasure thrums through his veins. He may be lying on his back underneath them both, but there’s no doubt that he is one in control, taking care of them.

They’re taking care of him, too, hanging up a moon and stars in the dark hollowness inside of him. Light, to warm his lonely heart.

He clutches tighter to Bakugou, and tugs the leash around Izuku’s mind. “Alpha, perfect alpha, you’re doing so good. Fucking him like that, kissing him so good, don’t you hear his sweet little whimpers, his groans? He’s perfect. Your perfect mate. Imagine how gorgeous he’s gonna be, coming on your knot…”

Bakugou keens, gasping when Izuku bites down on his neck, where their bond would be if they could form a permanent one. It’s not possible, biologically, but Izuku’s alpha seems determined regardless, and Bakugou lets him have his way.

“Look at him. Strongest person you know and he’s weak for you. Just you.”

“I’m—close—Kacchan… Hitoshi…”

“It’s okay. We got you.” Hitoshi needs the human inside Izuku to know this, too. “Let go, Izuku.”

We got you.

“So,” Izuku gasps, “tight—”

Bakugou spasms. “Oh fuck.” 

His hot spend shoots over Hitoshi’s hips and belly, catching in the coarse hair between his thighs. Spills onto his small cock. Hitoshi wants to feel it drip into him. He wants to feel it drip out of him.

Next time, he reminds himself.

For now, Hitoshi focuses on keeping his promise. Izuku growls rough and feral in the back of his throat, fighting Hitoshi’s hold, primal instincts peaking with his climax as his knot fills and fills inside of Bakugou.

“That thing is a fucking fist,” Bakugou wheezes. He tries to thrash away but Izuku only pins him, grinding shallow but insistent. 

Bakugou must like that; his spent cock twitches against Hitoshi’s hip. Hitoshi loosens his hold on Izuku’s alpha a little, letting the two of them play.

After a few more rounds of this, Bakugou goes limp on top of Hitoshi, spent. 

Izuku rumbles deep and content in his chest. Seems like the pliant mate knotted securely on his knot has satisfied his alpha for now. Hitoshi releases him altogether and watches Izuku’s eyes clear. 

He gasps when he comes back into himself.

“Are you all right?” Hitoshi asks.

Izuku bites his lip. His eyes are practically sparkling—oh, he’s about to cry. Panic swells inside Hitoshi. He tries to sit up but Bakugou is dead weight on top of him. 

Izuku giggles loosely at the look on Hitoshi’s face, and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “No, no, that was amazing. I’m doing great. Thank you, Hitoshi-kun.”

“And my ass is about to explode, no thanks for asking,” Bakugou groans from between them. “Stop making it bigger!”

“Sorry, Kacchan! I can’t help it!” Izuku squeaks. “Does it hurt? Are you—”

“I’m fine,” Bakugou grumbles.

“Then quit your fake complaining, princess,” Hitoshi teases, but he’s relieved to hear that everyone’s okay. “Feeling neglected ‘cause no one was paying attention to you for a second?”

Bakugou huffs and presses his mouth into a pout and changes the topic (which is possibly the most adorable way to agree):

“You”—he jabs the finger still tucked in Hitoshi’s hand—“are a filthy fucking menace. Jesus.”

Hitoshi is pretty sure that’s a compliment. “Thanks?” He goes to chuckle but finds himself short on air. “When you’re able, can you guys roll off to the side? Kinda hard to breathe with 400 pounds of muscle on my ribs.”

Bakugou and Izuku fall into an easy banter while maneuvering delicately onto their sides. Hitoshi wipes at the gross smear of cum between himself and Bakugou with an impossibly even grosser bedsheet that he shoves onto the floor.

He settles onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The two of them curl toward him like a pair of commas. Silence lulls. Hitoshi searches for words.

Izuku beats him to it. “Do we want to talk about this?”

“Which part? Fucking a lot happened,” Bakugou says with a yawn.

Izuku hums softly. “I don’t know? All of it?”

That’s a lot of talking. Hitoshi wants to be awake for this. Wants them all to be awake and clean and hydrated. 

“In the morning,” Hitoshi decides. “Let’s get some water and sleep.”

When he moves to get out of bed, Bakugou snatches him by the waist and pulls him in against his chest. “Don’t leave.”

Hitoshi feels his heart squeeze. “Just getting us water. I’ll be back.”

“Later.” Bakugou shuts his eyes, tightening his hold. “I’m enjoying this.”

Hitoshi listens to Izuku’s sleepy giggle, muffled by Bakugou’s hair. “Just say you like him, Kacchan,” he says, then pecks at him.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Bakugou snaps, but dutifully passes along the kiss to Hitoshi like a folded lovenote. “Like you, Eyebags. Stay.”

Unfolded.

He really is so, so cute. Sweet, prickly thing. Katsuki. Would he let Hitoshi call him that?

“I like you, too. Katsuki.”

When Katsuki doesn’t protest, just grunts in acknowledgment, Hitoshi relaxes into the shelter of their bodies. Their intermingled scent smells so good, so comfortable. Hitoshi breathes deep and easy.

“Thank you, Hitoshi-kun,” Izuku murmurs again, finding Hitoshi’s hand. He strokes the inside of Hitoshi’s wrist, where Katsuki held him. 

“Don’t mention it.”

“No. I think I’m going to keep telling you until you believe it. We’re so lucky to have you.”

After all that’s been said and done, this is what makes Hitoshi blush.

“Better not find you sneaking back to that other room,” Katsuki threatens. “You belong with us now.”

He says this like it’s a decided matter. Hitoshi chuckles. “I thought this was going to be a discussion?”

“Deku and I’ve had our cards laid out on the table for months. Your move, dumbass.”

He says this like it can really be that simple.

Affection offered. Affection taken.

No more grey space, everything out in the open.

Just the three of them, belonging to each other.

It’s true that Hitoshi doesn’t mind being alone. Loneliness, for him, had been a simple fact of life up until now, and he would much rather be alone than with people who make him lonely. 

But, with warmth and comfort and safety tucked in every corner around him, Hitoshi finds no place for loneliness in this bed for three.

Notes:

tysm for reading & hope you have a wonderful day <3