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Warm… wet… good.
The sensations reach Izuku in sleep. It starts out soft – delicious little tingles building between his legs, working their way down his thighs and up over his torso until his nipples stiffen to attention.
“Mmm…”
Light as a feather, he drifts somewhere halfway between dream and reality, thoughts fuzzy at the edges, not distinct enough to take shape. All he knows is that nothing can hurt him here. Not when he can feel warmth spreading all the way through him like he’s lounging beneath the sun, pleasure rolling over his body in waves. He sighs in contentment. It’s nice.
His pussy pulses – a deep throb – and the feeling over his clit becomes more insistent. There’s a steady rhythm, something soft and wet brushing over it slowly, carefully. Lovingly?
Izuku releases another long, shuddering sigh. The pleasure is building now, becoming sharper and more intense. It’s slippery and sticky between his thighs; he’s so wet, so turned on. Slick must be drenching his sheets – he can smell the familiar scent of it. Pine trees and the swell of rainclouds, deeper and earthier than most other Omegas.
And… something else, too. Another familiar scent. Smoke after fireworks, the warming spice of cinnamon…
Izuku’s eyes fly open, his dorm room slamming into place around him.
It’s early, practically so early it could still probably be classified the middle of the night, but dawn must have crept over the horizon at some point because there’s enough light streaming through the window for him to make out what’s going on.
He’s lying on his back in bed, All Might comforter tucked up around his chin in the same position it had been when he went to sleep, but there’s a hump under the covers, and his legs are spread open.
Someone is under there. Between his thighs. And if the steady lap, lap, lap is anything to go by… THEY’RE EATING HIM OUT!!!
Another overwhelming volley of pleasure courses through him, centred on his clit but quickly radiating out through the rest of his body. God, it’s so fucked up – definitely a violation – but it feels so good. Whoever is down there is certainly skilled with their tongue, and so attentive, suckling and nibbling at his lips between licks, then returning to his clit with just the right amount of pressure to make him feel – ooooh –
Izuku’s head drops back with a moan.
The movement pauses for a moment, everything going very still, very quiet. And then it begins again – invigorated – a series of insanely lewd squelches and slurping noises sounding from beneath the covers.
Oh God…
Fingers trembling, Izuku manages to find a hold on the comforter. Part of him doesn’t want to know – some deep animal aspect of his subconscious telling him to just lie back and enjoy it, let this person bring him to orgasm and then slip away without him ever needing to know their identity – but another bigger part of him tells him he has to know.
For one thing, if it’s an Alpha, then he needs to make sure they take the appropriate precautions. It’s only a few months out from graduation, and Izuku’s got several offers from various different agencies awaiting him. He can’t afford to mess any of that up, not when he’s got his whole future ahead of him…
And for another… it’s pretty not okay to sneak into his bedroom in the middle of the night and start performing oral sex on him in his sleep. No matter how – oh God, oh yeah, right there – no matter how good they are at it…
Summoning up all the courage he can muster, Izuku takes a deep breath, and peels back the covers.
And feels his body go so tense it’s like he’s officially turned into a plank of wood.
“Kacchan?!”
Staring back at him, hunched beneath the bedspread with his mouth pressed to Izuku’s pussy, is Bakugou freaking Katsuki. His childhood friend. His rival. The guy who hates his freaking guts!
But… Kacchan looks different. His eyes aren’t their usual fiery red; instead, they’re totally dark – an endless abyss of midnight black – and his Alpha fangs are elongated, too. They look so sharp they could pierce Izuku’s skin, ready to scruff and mark and bite, but as he continues his persistent lapping, they only skim delicately against Izuku’s most sensitive parts, demonstrating a gentleness he honestly didn’t know Kacchan was capable of.
An instinctive trill rises from his throat at the sight, a gush of slick flooding out of him, to which Kacchan lets out a low, appreciative grunt. Sliding his tongue from Izuku’s clit to his entrance, he laves over Izuku’s pussy with long, deliberate strokes, lips glazed and wet.
“K-Kacchan!” Izuku repeats, trying to force himself to think straight even though his thoughts are buzzing around his mind like a very confused, very horny swarm of bees. “I – I think you’re in rut right now!”
The only response he gets is another beastlike grunt, Kacchan’s hands gripping more tightly into the flesh of Izuku’s thighs. His fingernails are another feature that have become pointier than normal, scratching over Izuku’s skin in a way that is actually not at all unpleasant. If anything, it just adds to the experience –
No, what the crap? Izuku’s got to get a grip on himself. This is Kacchan he’s talking about. There’s no way in hell Kacchan would be doing this right now if he weren’t apparently going into rut for the first time ever. (Izuku knows it’s the first time because he overheard his mother on the phone to Auntie Mitsuki not too long ago, reassuring her that it wasn’t abnormal for an Alpha not to have rutted by the time they turned eighteen. It just meant it would likely be a particularly intense experience when they finally did).
No, if Kacchan had any form of control over himself, he’d definitely rather chop his left arm off than find himself doing this. Would probably opt to chop both his legs off too for good measure.
Izuku writhes against the mattress, trying to worm his way out of Kacchan’s hold.
“You – you shouldn’t be doing this,” he protests, voice coming out thin and reedy. “You’ll regret it, I know you will!”
His inner Omega whines as he says the words, indignant that he could say such a thing, and for some unfathomable reason, Kacchan seems to share the sentiment. His dark gaze flicks up to meet Izuku’s once more, brow furrowed in irritation, a deep growl humming from his lips.
The vibration travels through Izuku’s skin and makes his breath hitch, his body going slack beneath him, suddenly floppy and boneless. As if he has no control over his limbs, they sink further into the mattress – totally relaxed – allowing Kacchan to slip his hands down the back of Izuku’s thighs and force them further upward towards his chest, spreading him open in an entirely embarrassing position.
“Wait –” Izuku tries to speak, but chokes off into a sob when Kacchan lowers his mouth back to his clit once again, lapping at it more savagely than he had been before.
Izuku’s head drops back against the pillows, eyes rolling and back arching involuntarily at the onslaught of pleasure. Where before it had been warm, now it’s positively molten, Izuku’s entire form trembling at the overwhelming wetness, the sloppiness, the enthusiasm.
The flat of Kacchan’s tongue works diligently, teasing his little bud until every touch feels electric, jolting through Izuku again and again and again. He’s so wet, so sopping with slick, and the position doesn’t help – Kacchan folding him into submission, a big, strong Alpha, attending to his Omega like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.
And Izuku can’t help it – he can’t force himself to struggle, even though he knows he should, even with the knowledge that Kacchan will hate him forever when he comes back to himself and realises what they’ve done. He can’t bring himself to break free – despite being certain that he could (he’s thrown off buildings before, an Alpha would hardly be a challenge) – because deep down he wants this. Craves this. Has thought about this during his heats time and time again.
“Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, and this time, it comes out sounding more like a croon. Letting his hand drop to Katsuki’s head, Izuku indulges himself, threading his fingers through that fine, golden hair, allowing himself to submit to the pleasure – enjoying it, just this once. “You’re so good, Alpha. Making me feel so good. Getting me close.”
It’s true. Izuku is beginning to feel hazy, floaty, every nerve cracked open and exposed, skin sensitive to the touch, pussy throbbing to be filled, to be knotted –
Gripping his fingers tightly into Kacchan’s hair so his fingernails graze against scalp, Izuku lets out a whine as he climbs closer and closer to the edge, Kacchan growling again, but hungrily this time, ravenous as he devours every last drop of Izuku’s slick like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted…
“Ah!”
He sucks on Izuku’s clit, almost fiercely, and the sensation rails through Izuku with more intensity than he’s ever known. Panting, he comes, eyes squeezing shut as he freefalls through endless skies.
And beneath the covers, Kacchan doesn’t let up, primal grunts and chuffs rising from his throat, nuzzling his face against Izuku’s pussy so that it comes away glistening with slick, dark eyes flashing with something like satisfaction. Throughout Izuku’s trembling, toe-curling orgasm, he remains where he is, not even stopping when pleasure tips into overstimulation and Izuku tries to push him away.
“Kacchan – hey, stop, it’s too much –”
He doesn’t, tongue pressing into Izuku’s hole, breaching inside to get as much slick as he can…
Izuku writhes again, his whole body turning to putty in Kacchan's hands, wanting more, more more, more, until at last he remembers that this is wrong.
Instinctively, he drops his voice lower, firmer. “Alpha. That’s enough.”
Kacchan finally tears himself away and looks up. His eyes are still black as night, no sign of recognition flickering across the glassy surface. No sign of anger either.
He’s definitely deep in the throes of rut, probably with absolutely no idea what he’s doing. Maybe he won’t remember this when he awakens from the haze, maybe it’ll all just be one big indecipherable blur that won’t actually form into memories. Maybe Izuku will get lucky.
“You’ve done so well,” he tells Kacchan, tears brimming at the knowledge that this is probably the only time he’ll ever get to experience this: Kacchan looking up at him expectantly, listening to him like Izuku’s voice is his favourite song. Kacchan lying between his legs, scent potent with lust and desire, seemingly intent on devotedly pleasuring Izuku like they’re a mated pair. Kacchan – the only Alpha Izuku has ever wanted – acting like he wants him back. “You’ve done good, Alpha, made me feel really good.”
Kacchan’s scent swells with pride under the cave of the bedspread, so intoxicating it makes Izuku feel dizzy.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Izuku pets through Kacchan's hair, then strokes down his stubbly cheek.
“But you’ve got to go now.”
He knows what comes next. There’s only one thing an Alpha can possibly want during a rut, and that’s to lock in a knot. He can’t let things get that far – Kacchan will never forgive him if he does.
As much as his inner Omega howls at him to let Kacchan stay, to let Kacchan knot him, fill him up to the brim just like he’s always wanted – he can’t.
“Go back to your room,” he coos. “Try to sleep. I’m going to call Recovery Girl.”
He’s met with a whine, a tight, strained noise Kacchan would think was pathetic if he was actually thinking straight. Still, to Izuku’s surprise, he begrudgingly appears to listen.
Mouth turning down in displeasure (a more recognisable Kacchan-esque expression), he slides down to the end of Izuku’s tiny bed, slipping out from under the covers so Izuku can see him in full. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants which do nothing to hide the impressive hard-on tenting the fabric, his body taut and shining with sweat.
He must be burning up. This must be excruciating for him.
And yet… Kacchan does as he’s told. Eyes never leaving Izuku’s, he wanders to the door like a scolded dog, lips forming into a pout. He still hasn’t said anything, brain probably too muddled to be able to manage anything as complex as forming words, but Izuku can tell from his scent that he’s disappointed. That he wants more.
It takes everything Izuku has not to give it to him, not to invite Kacchan back into his bed to fuck him deep and hard into the mattress.
Lying in a sticky puddle of slick and spit, he grinds his thighs together in frustration, pussy aching with want as he watches Kacchan reach for the door handle, frowning.
“Go,” Izuku whispers, and with what almost sounds like a whimper, Kacchan turns and slips out of his dorm, sliding a final hurt look towards Izuku before he goes.
Desperately fumbling for his phone, Izuku types in the number for the infirmary with trembling fingers, his heart beating up in his throat, thoughts a roaring, tumultuous storm of emotion. One sentence in particular repeats over and over again in his mind, getting louder and more insistent as the dial-tone goes on:
WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL JUST HAPPENED??