Actions

Work Header

they don't know you like i do

Chapter Text

Anger.

All he’s ever known is anger.

They look at him like he’s something different, something to be feared. “Alpha,” they’ll whisper, acting as if he were an entity completely beyond their planes of existence. “True Alpha, must be obeyed—"

And obey they do.

A vision of red follows his wake anywhere he enters, like blood staining the asphalt steps of an exploding building, and anything he so much as looks at is his in an instant. There will be faces, countless insignificant faces, blurring in and out of his vision like extras in the background of a tasteless drama, and he revels in it. He loves being worshipped, adores being placed atop a pedestal nobody else can somehow reach, until someone does, and yanks it out from underneath him so that he topples over the ground below.

“You can’t put me down like that!” the un-presented Omega exclaims, mere seconds before he becomes his everything. “Just because you’re a True Alpha doesn’t mean you’re better than everyone else.”

There is anger at first, of course. Rage sings through his veins with a bloodlust that will not be quelled, will not be trampled—but the face of this snotty Omega is suddenly one that is no longer insignificant, an effervescent green to his thundering red, eyes like emeralds and the breathlessness of a woodland dream.

True Omega, our Omega, his Alpha purrs, and it’s in that moment that the revelation washes over him in exorbitant waves, threatening to pull him in to the other’s neck, to stake his claim—

“Izuku, no!”

—and just because his Deku, his future mate, is swept away from him, does not mean he won’t find him again.

Chapter Text

He smells it first on a bright spring day, on the morning of his first year at Yuuei University.

Although Yuuei is a top-tier institution, not even its students can withstand the natural allure of one Midoriya Izuku, wincing though he is at the potent and somewhat garish mixture of scents proliferating the air around him. His vibrant head of forest green hair reflects the downpour of sunlight in breathtaking rays, his matching eyes blinking methodically at the group of other students trying to vie for his attention.

It’s only the first day of the new semester, but it’s been like this for the entirety of his educational career, ever since he presented as an Omega at the late age of nine. And while others would be reduced to a blush by some of the students’ forward and frankly unwanted attempts to befriend him, Izuku only gives them a gentle smile, showing no signs of being swayed by—or in fact, being aware of—their words of invitation.

“Do you need any help getting to your classes, fellow Omega?” one girl chirps, her irritating lemon scent grating in his nostrils.

“No, I’m all good,” he smiles sunnily, and if one were to look closely enough, it’ll be as if the whole world halts its breath in wonder.

“Oh, another time then,” the same girl continues. “I’m Toga Himiko. And you?”

“Midoriya Izuku,” he answers, because it’s only polite to do so.

“You sure you don’t want any help, Izuku-san?”

“Yeah, it’s only your first day after all!”

Izuku sighs to himself internally. He always seems to attract so much attention, even in spite of being new, and with attention comes the inevitable clashing of pheromone-induced smells emitting from each alpha and omega, which are always so much more pungent to his sensitive nose.

It’s too much, he complains of the saturated space around him, filled with merry laughter and the intermingling fragrances that he’s really better off not smelling. He’s already getting a little light-headed; his inner Omega is already too high-strung from the fuss around him, and any more than this will definitely cause a breakdown. God, he doesn’t want to make a scene on his first day

His Omega trills. A whiff of blood staining the asphalt steps of an exploding building, and the lethal aftertaste of nitroglycerin on his tongue—

It’s gone. Before Izuku can even admire the scent’s uniqueness, a slight breeze carries it away from him, leaving not even a hint of it on his nose.

It doesn’t seem like it’s the first time he’s ever smelt such a thing. There was another time, in some distant memory, when he’d met someone so volatile that explosions seemed to cascade from their eyes; he remembers wanting to meet that person again, just so he could wrap himself in the headiness of their scent.

“What am I even saying?” he mutters softly to himself, shakes his head in dismay. Maybe it was a trick played by the wind.

“Eh? Did you say something, Izuku-chan?” the girl—Himiko, she’d said—tilts her head. Izuku nearly flails in surprise, only just managing to rein in the fluctuation of his scent.

“No,” he answers. The words are, perhaps, curter than they should be. “It’s nothing.”

 


 

His new-found ‘friends’, for a lack of a better word, invite him out to karaoke later that day, just after his last lecture. After the haze of going over syllabus and introducing himself to students that seem to gravitate closer and closer to him with each new class, all Izuku really wants to do is go home and take a nap before watching re-runs of All Might on his battered laptop.

“Sorry,” he declares, finality in his tone, “I’ve got a shift at work today.”

It’s a lie. One of the Alphas, a girl in the year above him with a headache-inducing scent of rosemary and thyme, leans down at him in eagerness. “Oh? I didn’t know you worked, Izuku-kun! We should come visit you when your shift starts.”

A vague noise of agreement erupts among the whole group.

“That’s… a really bad idea,” Izuku is saying before he can stop himself. “The place I work at is really busy most of the time, and chances are I won’t even be able to talk to you all. Sorry.”

“Aw, too bad then,” Himiko can do nothing but pout. “Come with us when you don’t have a shift, Izuku-chan!”

“Of course,” he replies, smiling patiently despite the clench of unwillingness in his chest. He’s never liked lying, not even if it gets him out of unsavoury situations like this one, so he supposes the only thing to do to remedy his guilt is to actually try scouting for any available part-time jobs as he heads back home.

‘Home’, for now, is in an apartment building somewhere farther away from the university, but close enough that he doesn’t have to take too long of a commute to school. Izuku had suggested staying in one of Yuuei’s free accommodations, but his mother had insisted for him to find someplace else; their house is much too far away, and she’s always hated the way he curls in on himself when the air around him becomes too saturated with scents, so she’s offered to pay for his rent until he has enough money saved up to start paying for it himself. He supposes, then, that finding a job is long overdue.

His apartment building can be found in a neighbourhood with a little café somewhere in its outskirts; he’s never been in there before, but there’s something vaguely comforting about the calm ambience and the lingering warmth of ground coffee beans that permeate the area surrounding it, so it’s there that Izuku heads towards now.

Miraculously, there’s a Now Hiring sign tapered to one of the café’s open windows.

“Hi,” he greets to one of the employees, showing her a full row of charming, pearl-white teeth. The girl blushes a thick shade of red, her raw cacao scent curling with tinges of flustered emotion. “I noticed you guys were hiring, and well, I don’t have my resume on me at the moment, but I just wanted to know if there was anyone I could send it to?”

“Oh!” she blinks, giving him a matching smile. “Hang on, I’ll get the manager for you.”

Izuku only has to wait a couple of minutes before a moody, seemingly sleep-deprived Alpha walks out through the Employees Only door, his eyes blood-shot and his sharp, silver scent only slightly muted by what appears to be scent-blockers.

“You a university student?” he asks in a gruff tone.

“Oh, yes!” Izuku is quick to reply. “At Yuuei Aca—”

“You’re hired.” And just like that, he heads back into the other room.

Izuku turns back to the employee, puzzled, but only finds her giggling delightedly.

“Welcome to the family! I’m Uraraka Ochako, and the guy working the coffee machine is Iida Tenya,” she introduces, holds out her hand for Izuku to shake. “Don’t mind Aizawa-san. He may seem like a complete sleaze-bag, but he’s a good boss.”

They sort out Izuku’s new schedule, fine-tuning the number of hours he plans to work every week. After briefing him on the amount he’ll be paid—his eyes had widened at the mention of an 1800-yen hourly rate—and signing his work contract, he leaves with a new job and two new acquaintances, both of whom are also enrolled in Yuuei.

“Yeah, Aizawa-san only ever hires Yuuei students,” Ochako shrugs as he leaves. “He was a Yuuei graduate himself. Well, see you next week, Izuku-kun. Maybe we’ll even see each other on campus!”

He leaves the café bundled up in a light sweater that he’d stuffed into his bag that morning, shoving his hands down his pockets in a futile attempt to generate synthetic warmth. The night air is cool around Izuku’s skin, licking at his bones in the way only a spring breeze might be capable of doing, and he shivers slightly.

It’s there again, that faint hint of blood staining asphalt steps, and the aftertaste of nitroglycerin.

So it hadn’t been a trick of the wind, after all.

He lets out a trembling breath, heady at the way it seems to get more and more potent to his nose the closer he gets to his apartment building, almost as if he’s being followed in every direction. But then it stagnates, becomes steady; its euphoric quality is hindered by something, keeping it at an equilibrium with the surrounding air.

Scent-blockers, he realises, just like Aizawa-san was wearing earlier. And it must be a relatively good brand, too, if it’s stopped him from figuring out the scent’s origin for this long a time. Izuku is usually able to tell where someone is standing without having to strain his senses, can even pinpoint a person’s primary and secondary genders with just a short whiff of the air, but he’ll have to focus more this time to figure out this person’s identity.

Male, Alpha, his Omega supplies after a while. True Alpha.

At once, his body tenses into some semblance of alertness. A True Alpha is rare, almost legendary; he’s never even been in the vicinity of one, and the only ones he’s ever heard of are people involved in the media or scions of insanely huge corporations. That someone so naturally dominant would be in the area right now is almost unimaginable.

The scent disappears just as the elevators close in front of him, blood on asphalt steps tapering off to invite less-savoury fragrances into Izuku’s nose. Although he lets his muscles relax as the number of floors move higher and higher, he also can’t help but frown at the loss. That Alpha’s scent had been so exhilarating, so familiar and yet so unlike anything else he’d ever known, and he wants it back.

Before he surrenders his eyesight to sleep, he can’t help but want to encounter it again.

Oh, how little does he know.

 


 

There are a bouquet of blood-red amaryllises sitting on his front door.

Izuku only blinks down at them, already used to people secretly sending him little gifts to gain his favour, but he hasn’t gotten one since he moved out of his mother’s house. The thought of one of his suitors finding his apartment number sends enough shivers down his spine that he decides, against better judgement, to open the scroll attached to the bouquet’s ribbon, if only to find out the sender’s identity.

To Midoriya Izuku, it starts with the same perfunctory few words. It seems harmless enough, but when he rolls out the piece of paper, he can only gape at its sheer length.

“Who could write this much?” He marvels at the way the kanji is written, at the characters that seem so carefully drawn yet so violently blotched onto paper at the same time.

It’s more than enough to catch his attention, despite the oddity of it all. Izuku steps back into his apartment to give the bouquet a nice little home in one of his unused vases, and carefully places it next to his desk. The letter is taken with him; he’s already a few minutes behind schedule, and if he doesn’t hurry up, he’ll miss his train. He figures he can read it sometime in class, or while he’s commuting.

He’s so busy that day, though, that he doesn’t find the time to read it until well after his last lecture, as he’s walking home from his first shift at Aizawa’s café. He stops by a small playground about a street away from his apartment building, taking his time to sit at one of the benches overlooking the slides, and unfurls the scroll in all its delicacy. For a while, he admires the spill of numerous inky words on the carefully unscented page.

Must be anonymous, then, he frowns slightly at the realisation.

With only slight hesitance, Izuku reads.

 

“…probably not the first to write to you, and I probably won’t be the last. The old hag says I should do it though, because it’s how she snagged my dad, apparently, but fuck if it isn’t hard, Deku.

“(Can I call you Deku? Accidentally misread your name the first time, and I sort of just went with it from there.)

“Anyway, I’ve always been kind of shitty with words, so my bad if this turns out to be a complete piece of shit to read, but at least then I can say I tried, you know?

“Shit, but I want to do more than just try. I want to actually win you—but not like that, obviously. You aren’t some fucking thing I can just collect, you’re Deku. No, I meant that I wanted to be that person, the one you smile at like the sun is coming out of their ass and the one whose mark you’ll wear until you’re old and grey, like something you see out of those cheesy soap operas my dad likes to watch in the afternoons. I want to woo you and kiss you senseless, walk you home and scent you so no one else’ll come near… But that’s already too much, isn’t it? You probably wouldn’t even think of taking my bite if you recognised me anyway, so there’s that.

“But bear with me, will you? Hopefully you won’t just throw this shit down the garbage, but I honestly won’t blame you if you do; I’m understanding like that. Only for you, though.

“I’ll never admit I ever fucking wrote this, but here goes nothing, I guess.

“I fucking love you.”

 

By the end of it all, Izuku can only attempt to hide the blush that threatens to stain his freckled cheeks.

“T-That was…” he stutters to himself, and he doesn’t know why. The writer is right—his words are blunt and explosive, with not a hint of flowery embellishment in sight—but perhaps it’s because he’s never read a love letter like it that it charms him so effortlessly, that it seeps into some untended marrow in his bones and gives light to something that has never been touched.

This was actually kind of sweet, he thinks to himself, never mind the fact that the nickname this writer has given him sounds so awfully nostalgic. An unbidden smile is sat firmly on his face, accentuating the blossom of pink roses on his lips, and he decides then that he definitely wouldn’t mind receiving a couple more.

“Yeah, I think I’d really like that, actually,” he whispers softly to himself, the revelation meant purely for his own ears. Still blushing that pretty crimson, he declares, “Write to me again, whoever you are. I want to keep hearing from you.”

 

In the darkness surrounding that small playground, about a street away from Izuku’s apartment building, the shadow of a man sighs in relief.

 


 

Inevitably, there comes a time when his group of so-called ‘friends’ finally manage to rope him in for a karaoke session after school. It thankfully does not happen until a few weeks into the semester.

There are ten or so other people in the tiny booth with him, some of which Izuku hasn’t even been properly introduced to. While most of them are pretty harmless, only unified in their natural attraction towards him, there’s no helping the constant wince of irritation threatening to overpower the hold he has over his Omegan instincts of run, run, hide.

Mineta Minoru, a scentless Beta, falls over his lap in a drunken haze, and he can’t take it anymore.

“I should go,” he announces, voice only slightly shaky, to the rest of the group, some of whom are still belting out garbled lyrics to some idol song that always comes on the radio. A series of protestations and disappointed sighing, almost immediately, filters through the room.

“Eh? So soon?” Himiko complains, pouting behind her drink. Izuku winces at the way her lemon scent fuses with the mess of a concoction she holds between her fingers. “Izuku-kun, you’re no fun. You didn’t even drink tonight!”

“I have an early class, you see,” he carries on, not at all fazed by her complaints. “I’ll see you all tomorrow though, right?”

“Of course!” one of the Alphas clamours to reply before the others, despite his bright red flush and the disgusting smell of vomit lingering on his pomegranate scent. “Do you want me to walk you home, Midoriya-kun? It isn’t safe walking alone, you know? You’re an Omega, and you aren’t even wearing a neck collar to hide your scent gland! Someone could just whisk you away on the street, and none of us would be the wiser…”

Izuku’s nostrils flare momentarily, muscles bristling at the insinuation of being so weak that he can’t even get home on his own, much less that he needs a stupid neck collar. He is more than capable, thank you very much, has won races and fist-fights against Alphas twice his size, had once gotten a True Alpha to listen to him in his childhood—but that isn’t important. Thankfully, whether from all the alcohol in their systems or the tightly-packed scents saturating the air in the booth, no one seems to notice the souring of his mood.

We’re strong enough, his Omega growls within, as if in confirmation. We’re True; we can handle a walk in the dark.

Izuku doesn’t know what that means, but to everyone else, he waves off the sentiment with a gentle hand. “It’s fine, Shigaraki-san. Promise I’ll be alright.”

It’s already well past midnight by the time he finally manages to step out of the karaoke room, feeling so light-headed from the smells packed tightly into that small space that he nearly topples over himself at the counter.

“S-Sir, are you alright?” the clerk asks him, obviously worried, but Izuku only gives her a reassuring smile before going on his way; he has more distracting things racing through his mind, like the lack of a new letter to read.

He knows he shouldn’t be too impatient, but it’s already been a week. Every day, after he wakes, he finds himself peering out at the space at his front door for any sign of another one, but so far, he hasn’t gotten any more. The implications leave a bitter aftertaste in his stomach; the sender, whoever it may be, must have decided to stop writing to him after the first time.

“A shame,” he pouts to himself as he steps out into the cool night.

Blood on the asphalt steps of an exploding building invades his nose the moment he does so, and at this point Izuku is already used to it. It seems to come from everywhere, sometimes—behind him, in front of him, next to him—fading in and out from his senses in a way only quality scent-blockers might be able to induce, and Izuku is starting to see very clearly that he’s being followed.

By a True Alpha, no less.

He should be disturbed, he knows. Someone following him around to the point of obsession can’t be any good, but he also can’t seem to stop himself from grinning softly when he catches a whiff of nitroglycerin on his tongue. Even his Omega is thrilled at the attention; rather than emphasise danger or unrest, it often purrs at the underlying violence, the implied carnage.

Strong Alpha, it informs him from time to time, as if to dissuade him from feeling more concerned. He has no bad intentions, we’re safe.

And really, so long as he doesn’t plan on bothering him, Izuku is more than fine to let him be.

Just as the thought enters his mind, the muffled Alpha scent seizes its usurpation of the air around him. “You never seem to follow me to my floor,” he murmurs softly, speaking to air, and perhaps he could be a little less disappointed, but let it be said again; he likes the smell. It’s refreshing, distinctively familiar enough that it puts him at ease, and diverts his attention to something more fetching than the less-than-stellar fragrances he’s constantly surrounded by.

He doesn’t expect anything to greet him when he gets home, of course, but Izuku still falters at the lack of a new letter waiting for him at his front door. Sighing, he punches in his apartment code and steps into the genkan with no preamble—only to stop short at the sight that greets him.

Sitting on the floor in front him is a large teddy bear with a single red ribbon attaching a letter to its neck.

A teddy bear. In his apartment.

“W-What…” he blinks, shoulders tensing in panic. The door should have been locked, it was clearly locked since he’d only just typed in the code and it’d opened, oh god, has someone managed to sneak into his house? Will someone be waiting for him in the bedroom, or in the kitchen, or in the—

Alpha! his inner Omega is quick to interrupt. Strong Alpha, True Alpha, we’re safe!

The smell is faint, but Izuku finally notices it perfusing through the width of his apartment; he’s getting the strongest urge to lean forward, to catch the bear into his arms, and it’s so unavoidable that he finds himself cradling it against his chest, his nose on its head, and it’s only then that he realises.

Blood on asphalt, exploding building, nitroglycerin.

Izuku takes a sharp, shuddering breath.

 


 

He doesn’t show up to any of his classes the next day, and calls in sick for work later on in the night. There’s something world-altering about finding out that the Alpha who follows him around and the unknown person who once wrote him such a charming confession letter is but one and the same, and Izuku can’t find the motivation to keep acting like it’s never happened. So he holes himself underneath his blanket instead, only crawling out for short bathroom breaks or to heat up some instant ramen in the microwave.

He’d debated on whether or not to talk to his mom about it, when the panic had still been freshly pounding in his lungs, but had ultimately decided against it. Izuku doesn’t want to worry her any further; she’s already busy enough as it is, and she’s always been intensely protective of him ever since he was little.

It should be said, in any case, that the letter is burned, and that the teddy bear is thrown along with his garbage outside, but that sadly hasn’t been so. The bear is smothered close to his chest even now, clutched so tight that his fists have started turning white, and despite knowing exactly what it means to have received such a dangerous display of affection, Izuku is still desperate to inhale more of that muffled Alpha scent that radiates off the gift in waves.

He’s even read the letter that came with it, although it’d been slightly shorter than the first one. “Wanted to make sure you wanted me to keep writing,” was the way it started, casual and offhanded. “You don’t mind me breaking in, do you? Or that I left you some of my scent? You seemed pretty enthusiastic when I gave you the flowers, Deku.”

He isn’t surprised that it ends with an “I fucking love you”.

That alone should have sent alarm bells ringing through his mind, being aggressively confessed to on paper, but Izuku had felt light-headed for a totally different reason. A potentially mortifying, yet so very welcome reason. It’s only that he can’t reconcile these two as one person, but then again, he supposes they’re both ardent in their own way: one follows him around wherever he goes, and the other writes him insanely long letters that brighten his day and make his stomach flutter.

The doorbell is ringing. Izuku is blinked out of the thoughts that run through his brain a mile a minute, his mutterings ceased by its jarring sound cutting through the silence, and there’s a shiver of anticipation crawling up somewhere from the base of his spine. His inner Omega, however, doesn’t so much as tense at the possible threat.

Door, now, it growls at him, demands that he move, and although Izuku hastens to comply, there is still nothing at the door except for an innocuous bag of—groceries? He finds that it’s filled to the brim with all kinds of pills, cough syrup, heat packs, band-aids and even a piping hot bowl of soup—as if his Alpha stalker had emptied the entire medication section at the store in his haste to deliver.

Because that’s what he is, Izuku realises. A stalker.

He doesn’t even consider leaving it there. Leaning down to collect the goods, he spies the carefully-placed letter sitting atop the bag’s contents and, despite himself, smiles gleefully at the nitroglycerin he finds there.

“I heard from your workplace that you were sick today,” and it’s only slightly worrying to him that the unknown Alpha would know so much in such a short amount of time. “You better not fucking die, Deku, you piece of shit. You’d take me with you if you did. You want me to keel over from grief or some shit?”

Izuku’s heart unwillingly skips a beat. The only other person who’s shown so much care and concern for his well-being is his own mother, who lives on the other side of Japan and who adores him so much that she’s shouldering half his tuition and is still paying for his rent. He wonders if he can place this mysterious Alpha—this mysterious, sinister, stalker True Alpha—up on the same pedestal he’s made for her.

“I suppose I could,” he smiles softly to himself, and he knows—he knows—that all is forgiven in that instant.

It’s frightening, how he embraces it so quickly.

 


 

Aside from the usual crowd he hangs out with, he has a bunch of friends who Izuku genuinely cares about and whose scents he can actually tolerate—like Todoroki Shouto, the Omega with the curiously-mismatched fragrance of ice and fire, who sits next to him in his Creative Literature lectures.

“Hey, Todoroki-kun,” he nudges the other boy, whose brows are furrowed and whose free hand is splayed languidly over the fresh mating bite on his neck, courtesy of his Alpha, Yoarashi Inasa. “What do you do if you’re being stalked? Hypothetically speaking, I mean.”

Shouto blinks up at him warily, stops writing on the notebook he’s got open on the desk in front of him. “…Are you being followed, Midoriya-kun? Do I need to call someone?”

“No!” Izuku exclaims, perhaps louder than he should, more defensive and more suspicious than a lackadaisical denial would’ve been. “I’ve just been wondering about what someone would do in a situation like that, is all.”

“Well, first of all, you’d tell someone,” the other Omega replies, a blunt edge to his monotonous words; as if this were a given. “The police, for example. Stay with someone you’re comfortable with, don’t walk home alone, make sure to lock all your doors and windows—”

“But what if you know they don’t mean any harm by it?” he cuts him off before he can think too much about it. “Like, say, if they’ve never tried to threaten you or made you feel unsafe, or all they’ve ever done is leave you gifts and really, really long confession letters that make your heart skip a beat, or keep their distance and keep an eye on you when you’re walking home alone, and make sure to rub their scent that you find really, really comforting on the things they give you, or—”

“You’re rambling again,” Shouto tells him shortly. “Look, I’ve never experienced it myself, but I know someone who has, and it… didn’t end well for them. Getting stalked is never a good sign, Midoriya-kun, even if they seem relatively harmless at first.”

At this, Izuku frowns down at the blank page of his notebook, where he should have been meticulously jotting down their professor’s words. He imagines that ink spills lovingly onto the empty space between lines and margins, charmingly violent in the way the kanji takes their shape. He imagines that the words bleed into the next few pages until they cease at one final confession; that same “I fucking love you” that has his inner Omega brightening with glee.

“I guess,” he finally relents, though even he can’t deny the hesitation in his tone. Shouto is eyeing him steadfastly from the corner of his vision, and he does his best to ignore it. “Sorry, can I have a look at your notes? I completely blanked out for a second there.”

“Sure,” the other boy shrugs, replies. “Just hang on, I need to write something down first.”

As Izuku waits for him to finish scribing one last dot point, his eyes trail to the still-red mating bite on Shouto’s scent gland, so new that there are still clots existing at the edges of teeth marks on otherwise unmarred skin. He doesn’t know Shouto’s Alpha that well, hasn’t even met him in person yet, but he can tell from the way the mark is positioned that the bite had been tender, almost affectionate in the way it continues to sink deeper into capillaries and veins—Shouto looks up with his heterochromatic eyes, gaze expectant, and Izuku has to pretend he hasn’t been staring.

“It’s alright,” Shouto smiles, all soft and gentle. “I was hoping you’d notice, I’ve been wanting to show it off.”

“Did it hurt when he claimed you?” Izuku has to tilt his head in curiosity.

 “Of course not, it’s a mating bite. He has a matching one on the side of his neck.”

“Really?” Izuku blinks. “He let you claim him, too?”

The only time he’s ever seen mutual mating bites on a couple are between Betas, or a same-gender pairing between two Alphas or two Omegas. It’s practically unheard of in modern society for Omegas to claim their Alphas, because doing so will create a bond between a pair that is broken only by death; for the rest of time thereafter, the Omega’s body will reject any other Alpha’s knot, and the Alpha will be repulsed by any other Omega’s scent. It’s permanent, and everlasting—the strongest connection between two individual people that the universe has to offer.

And for his whole life, Izuku has always wanted it.

“Yeah, surprisingly,” Shouto is chuckling fondly to himself, mismatched eyes glazed over as if in reminiscence. “He’s special, my Inasa. Still can’t forget the look on my dad’s face when he found out.”

“That must be nice,” Izuku mumbles under his breath. He’d intended to keep the words to himself, but Shouto’s hearing is especially astute.

“You’ll get one yourself, one day,” the other Omega assures him, offers a tiny smile. “Alphas fawn over you left and right. Only think left to do is pick the right one.”

His breath hitches. For a moment, Izuku’s mind presents himself with a blurred outline of a figure, unrecognisable but for the unkemptness of their ash-blonde hair and the molten rubies glistening in their eyes. When he blinks, the image is no longer there.

“That’s the hardest part, though,” he sighs. He turns his attention back to the professor’s discussion of writing styles, and wills himself to forget the desire.

 


 

Another letter, sitting beside a bouquet of white jasmines, is the first thing that greets him as soon as he gets home.

Izuku has barely stepped through the door before a hint of blood on asphalt steps and nitroglycerin disseminates through his core, muffled though it is by scent-blockers and the passage of time; he doesn’t take a second more to snatch the letter off the floor of his genkan and hug the bouquet close to his chest, ignoring the warmth spidering through his veins at the reception of another gift.

“I heard you want a mutual mating bite,” is the hastily-written scrawl he reads when he first opens it, and he has to take a moment to pause at the implications. Creative Literature had been his last lecture for the day, and neither he nor Shouto had been sitting particularly close to anyone in the lecture hall for someone to listen in. How had his Alpha stalker known? “It’s kind of shitty for me to presume, but I could give it to you. Fuck, I’d give you the world on a silver platter if you asked; a mating bite is nothing.”

Despite himself, he finds himself absolutely teeming with burgeoning emotion. Here is an Alpha, a True Alpha, so devoted to winning him that he’d submit ownership to the thrum of fate that lies dormant behind Izuku’s canine teeth. Is there really anyone else who can offer him more?

“The old hag says I shouldn’t be too hasty, shouldn’t ask this early into the courting, but I feel like I’m gonna fucking die, Deku,” the letter continues. If Izuku hones in on himself, he can imagine a voice, deep and animalistic in the way it pronounces consonants and elongates its vowels, from so very long ago. “I’m nearing my rut, damn it, and I’m not going to be able to stop myself from coming near you. Please, lock everything, barricade your doors, I don’t want to lose control of my shitty instincts again. Fuck, Deku, I could never hope to deserve you after that last time.”

Last time? Izuku furrows his brows in confusion. When was there a last time?

The letter ends with its usual “I fucking love you”, written so impetuously that he can barely read it, and his inner Omega is relishing the affection that seems to seep out of the piece of paper in waves, but all he can think of is—does he want this man? When he doesn’t even know him? When he hasn’t been told the Alpha’s name, can only tell it’s the same person from the scent of blood on the asphalt steps of an exploding building and the lethal aftertaste of nitroglycerin on his tongue, when this could all just be a sick joke being played on him or—perhaps even worse than that—are just the honeyed words of an old pervert who wants to take him and knot him and—oh god, does he want to be knotted? Is that what it is? Has his inner Omega finally given up a lifetime of celibacy to take up the knot of some unknown True Alpha who can break in and wreck him in his sleep? But no, wait, that’s not important; his Alpha sounds like he’s suffering, he’s going to have his rut alone

His phone rings, tears through his frenzied muttering like a sharpened blade through flesh. The caller ID is that of his mom, and in that instant, it seems as if she’s half the world away.

“M-Mom?” he murmurs into the phone, tries to quell his heavy breathing and retain some semblance of ease, at least for her sake. “How are you? Is there something wrong?”

“Oh no, nothing at all, sweetheart!” comes the cheerful reply from his tinny phone speakers, lacking the warmth that he knows must be in her tone at the moment. “I just wanted to check in, that’s all. How’s school going?”

“It’s… fine, actually,” he answers. If there is any lingering dubiety in his tone, she doesn’t seem to notice. “All my classes have been really interesting—no, there hasn’t been any major assignments yet, but it’s nearing exam season, so…”

They talk about nothing, everything, and all that’s in between, as they’re often wont to do when they finally find the right time to sit down and have a long conversation about their week. There’s something about the way his mother latches onto his every word, turning each tiny comment into something worthy of adoration and familial love, that seems to exist in compensation for the death of his father at such a young age. He can talk to her about anything, from his insecurities to his deepest musings, and she will be there to listen without judgement; it’s because of this that he decides to take a metaphorical leap of faith, to get it out of his system.

He’s done so much for me, he internalises, almost even laments. Shouldn’t I do something in return?

“Mom, I… I think I’m being courted.” He fails to mention that it isn’t even courtship so much as it is stalking, because Midoriya Inko is almost twice are protective of him as she is understanding.

“Izuku, that’s wonderful!” she gasps from the other side of the phone, surprise and delight still so evident in the way her pitch changes despite the monotony induced by his phone speakers. “Is it an Alpha? A Beta? Or—wait, is it an Omega? Honey, you know I wouldn’t mind if it were; you were never really all that interested in any Alphas or Betas growing up, anyway. Well, except for that one time, but it’s a little hazy in my memory, and you were so young. I’m not sure it really counts—”

“He’s a True Alpha,” Izuku blurts out before he can regret it. “He’s—I’ve known him since the start of semester.”

This is more of a half-truth than an out-right lie.

“…a what?” his mother exclaims. “Oh, Izuku, oh, my boy, what’s his name?”

And here is where he’s stumped, because he doesn’t know. Bitterness claws at his throat as he opens his mouth. “I… don’t think I want to tell you yet. Is that okay? It’s just… I want to see where it goes, and I don’t want you to go expecting anything if it doesn’t work out.”

“That’s quite alright!” she reassures, but her voice is considerably less sunny than it had been before. “But can you at least tell me what he’s like? Is he good to you?”

“He’s really, really good to me,” Izuku promises, and this time, he finds that his words are fervently honest; his Alpha stalker has never made him uncomfortable—panicked, maybe, that someone has managed to pinpoint his residence without him ever disclosing it to anyone but the people at his workplace, but never uncomfortable—and never has he made him fear for his life or his safety. On the contrary, the scent the True Alpha exudes is one of comfort, of reassurance and silent devotion, all of which are only voiced in the breathtakingly long letters he sends over. “It’s just that, well, he mentioned that he was going to have his rut soon.”

A sharp intake of breath is audible from the other end of the call. “And do you plan on helping him through it?” his mom asks. “How long has he been courting you? Don’t you think it’s a little too early?”

“I know it is, mom, don’t worry,” Izuku soothes. He doesn’t even know the Alpha’s name yet. “But I… uh, I was wondering if it’d be a good idea to give him some of my clothes? J-Just so he has my scent close by. Is that too much?”

“Oh,” and the breath is released with palpable relief. “That’s more than fine, dear. As long as you’re nowhere near where he is while he’s in rut. I’ve heard that True Alphas are especially insatiable.”

For a reason that isn’t quite as unknown as he’d like, a tremor of exhilaration teases at his lower abdomen.

“That’s good to hear,” is all that he mentions aloud. “Thanks, mom.” The call only lasts for a couple more minutes after that, before he hangs up.

Reciprocate the courting, his inner Omega urges him, as he’s setting down his phone. Show our Alpha we care.

 

In an apartment located in the building just next to his own, an ash-blonde youth doesn’t dare believe the things he’s hearing.

 


 

It’s a little nerve-wracking to do it, but Izuku has made up his mind.

“Hey, uh,” he calls out into the empty air of his room, lets the lushness of evergreen meadows and saccharine honeydew envelope the baggy shirt and tiny shorts clinging to his skin. “I don’t know if you’ve got my apartment bugged or anything, but it’s worth a try, I guess.”

Of course, nothing but silence answers him.

“I just wanted to say that—that I don’t really believe you’d do anything to hurt me. Sure, you’ve been following me, and you’ve been listening in on my conversations—I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got a camera hidden in here somewhere, to be quite honest—but I just… I know I’m safe with you. You seem to know a lot about me, but you’ve never threatened me with anything, and you haven’t forced me to be with you, so just, just have some faith in yourself, alright?”

Izuku clenches the bottle of lube tighter in his palm, as if it’ll offer him some word of assurance.

“You’ve done a lot for me,” his voice is starting to attenuate. “You wrote that your rut’s arriving soon, so I thought, wouldn’t it be great if he could have a part of me while he’s riding it out, just like I have all these letters to remember him by? I mean, you obviously don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but there will be a pile right here,” he pats the space next to his bed, “when I’m done, if you decide to.”

“And if you do have a camera somewhere,” he whispers, feels a little mischievous, although the sound is loud in the tiny room, “then all the better, right?”

Before he can lose his nerve, Izuku palms the space between his inner thighs in brief circular motions; he imagines that his hands are larger, enough to encompass his entire bulge from beneath his shorts without so much as a conscious thought. He runs a hand up his waist, his shirt riding up to show a sliver of pale, freckled skin underneath and, already panting from the vivid scenery of an ambiguous figure in his mind, brings it up to his mouth to suck.

He imagines that the fingers in his mouth are his True Alpha’s cock, thick and heavy with the redolence of blood seeping onto the asphalt steps of an exploding building, and of nitroglycerin potent enough to light him up from within. When he closes his eyes, Izuku can almost picture the searing crimson of his Alpha’s gaze, crooning praises at him, running a soft hand through his hair, and he wants. Fuck, he wants.

“Alpha,” he mumbles, wishing that someone else were with him in this moment. “I want your knot, Alpha, please.

He snakes his hand into his shorts, feels himself shudder at the cold touch of fingers on his tiny Omega cock—and it isn’t the right sensation, because he has the vaguest feeling that his Alpha’s hands are going to be lava-hot, detonating miniscule explosions along his skin in earnest. Still, Izuku makes do; grabbing his half-hard length, he pulls it free from the tightness of his shorts and sighs at its exposure to open air.

“Do I have a pretty cock, Alpha?” he croons to nobody, hoping beyond all hope that somebody beyond these walls is listening. “I want you so badly, K—Alpha—”

Clicking open the bottle of lube—carefully unscented, so as to avoid hindering the suffusion of his scent—Izuku squeezes a generous amount on his twitching shaft, inhaling at every ice-cold touch, and whimpers as he starts jerking himself off.

“Ah,” he moans, softly at first, but rising in volume at every quickening of his pace. “Alpha, oh god.”

He can feel some of the lube running down into the space of his hole, intermingling with the natural slick gathering there, and Izuku keens. He’s so wet now, so ready for his Alpha’s fingers to reach inside and scissor him open, and god does he regret his decision, god does he want to help his Alpha through his rut. He wants his Alpha’s cock, his Alpha’s knot, wants the spill of his Alpha’s seed painting his insides a lovely white and he can’t have it for the sake of propriety.

He drops the fingers he’s sucking into his mouth, smears them with his slick and teases shyly at his perineum before releasing a breath and pushing in.

“Mmh,” he groans incoherently, eyes rolling to the back of his lids. He never really takes the time to work himself open, to play languidly with his cock and his ass outside the desperate lust-induced sessions of his heat, mainly because he can never seem to envision the perfect ambivalent Alpha figure to compliment his smaller frame while he’s lucid. But he finds now that he’s able to do it just fine; hell, he can almost touch the hardened muscle of his image-Alpha’s biceps, can almost run his trembling fingers through those sweat-damp pecs and—fuck, he needs another finger.

“No,” he whines as soon as the second finger is inside. “More, Alpha, please, I need your cock so bad—want your knot, your pups, Alpha. Want you to breed me, wanna be yours.

Izuku makes it so that he shoves two more fingers in at the same time; there are four slick-soaked digits ramming in and out of his ass now, at an excruciatingly slow pace. His hips buck up to meet his fingers half-way, erratic in their movement, and when his other hand thumbs pressure into the head of his tiny cock, the combined sensations are enough to rattle him through a faux-orgasm.

“A-Alpha! K—a—oh god, holy fuck,” he babbles, feeling the tell-tale heat pooling at his lower abdomen. He spears his fingers up into his ass a little higher, a little deeper, imagining that it’s his True Alpha’s thick cock sliding in and out of his hole in wanton lust. He almost wants to hear it, the sound of his Alpha’s hips slapping against his ass-cheeks, the low panting in his ear as he scratches into the other man’s back hard enough to make it bleed.

A gasp is wrenched from Izuku’s lips, sudden and explosive. He arches his back, curls his fingers to hit that same spot again, that dense bundle of nerves that has him seeing stars and comets and the crimson shade of molten rubies after a forest fire and he doesn’t even realise that he’s been screaming.

Alpha! Alpha, yes, yes, right there,” he says, if only to retain some slight coherency. “Want you, need you so bad, want your pups—Kac—oh!”

The orgasm takes him completely by surprise, his body burning up to a vaporous heat; his veins sing with unfound yearning, the unmet need for a knot to plug up his hole and breed him full of seed. Izuku hadn’t even known if he wanted pups or not, but here is his answer—the temperature reaches a burning crescendo, his surroundings inconceivable but for the crystal-clear image of his future mate at age nine, and the recollection of a scent whose familiarity had been masked by a long-forgotten memory.

“Alph—Kacchan!” he sobs, both at the ensuing orgasm and the remembrance of being True wracking through his figure in violent tides. “Kacchan, Alpha, please.”

White spurts of come paint his chest a stunning pearl, the lingering aroma of meadows and honeydew seeping into the fabric of his shirt just the way he’d intended. His shorts are soaked to the brim with his slick, holding lasciviously at his hips in the way stray beads of ambiguous liquid continue to trickle down his legs, and Izuku’s knees buckle from under him so that he collapses onto the bed with his thighs still spread open and his hole still clenching over empty space in its need for the continuous hold of a knot.

He has to force himself to sit up and take off his soiled clothes. Folding them into a parody of freshly-ironed laundry, he places them gently on the space next to his bed where he’d patted before and promptly flops back down onto his pillow to get a couple minutes of rest. He still needs to ruin six other sets of clothing, after all; he can’t just leave his Alpha fucking into the same shirt and shorts for the entirety of his week-long rut.

“Don’t take them yet,” Izuku mumbles, only a few moments away from sleep. He doesn’t even bother to cover up his nakedness with a blanket. “M’ gonna have some more ready. You can take them when I’m done.”

And if his Alpha—his Kacchan—comes along and decides to fuck him in his sleep while he’s all ready for him like this, he’ll gladly let him.

Chapter Text

Kacchan. His Deku had said Kacchan.

The emerald tint of his vision gives way to a startling vermillion, mind racing at the implications, his chest heaving shallow breaths into his lungs. To hear that wanton affection tumbling out of his Deku’s lips again, after all these years of watching him from afar—it’s cathartic, lustral. His inner Alpha can only roar at the satisfaction it leaves on his skin, oozing into his bones and annexing every fibre of his being, can only rejoice with song and praise at their Omega’s recollection of their name, and it’s better than he could’ve ever hoped.

“How can someone like you even exist, Deku?” he wonders aloud to the live camera footage on the wide screen in front of him, admires the way sweat and slick continue to trickle down those star-speckled thighs even in sleep. “Such a good Omega for me, so ready to take my knot. Fuck, look at that perfection.”

He knows he doesn’t deserve him. He’s known for a long fucking time. He knows that sending that letter had been impulsive, irrational, unnecessary and reckless—his Deku could’ve run for the hills, might’ve confided in his mother; he’d almost expected him to call the police—but by god does he want him so much. The Omega is a pressing need, a reminiscent pull in his chest that lies dormant with fate, and every cell in his body is so adamant at finding and courting that precious Deku that just watching him is no longer enough.

And he thought—he could at least try, right? He knows he doesn’t deserve him, has never been worthy of receiving that sunlight smile, and after all these years following the desecration of his sacred Omega by his very own hands, he’d even begun to pray that his Deku would fail to remember.

But he does, has even chanted out his name like a sonnet to the sun, and despite remembering, he still wants him back.

Bakugou Katsuki has never felt more in love.

Chapter Text

Izuku changes into new sets of clothing six more times, begs for his Kacchan’s knot six more times, and with every new orgasm comes another piece to the puzzle that fits so perfectly into his mind.

“You never really forgot about me, huh?” he mumbles after the last high, limbs so weary that he almost can’t even lift his own shirt up. “My Kacchan, True Alpha.”

It is perhaps a testament to his strength of will that Izuku can still stand upright, can still fold his soiled underwear into a crisp pile next to his bed, and he hopes that his Alpha can see this. He hopes he can see the independence nestled into the crook of his neck, the raw confidence that teems under his skin at the realisation of what he really is now.

True Omega, his inner Omega trills, pleased at his revelation. Perfect match for our Alpha—we’re both True.

It explains a lot, perhaps too much, of the irregularities surrounding his childhood. Izuku has always been labelled as odd, both for his late presentation as an Omega and the infrequent but month-long heats that he has been plagued by for practically his whole life, and it’s a wonder that his own mother never brought it up before. But then again, he supposes, she might not have even been aware of it herself; if True Alphas are the apex of social hierarchy, the blue-bloods of dominance and the rarest of secondary genders, then True Omegas are the substance of fantasy and myths.

Omegas who aren’t hampered by monthly heats, capable of withstanding the onslaught of pheromones perfusing the air around a lesser Alpha, who can command the entire world to kneel at their feet with a single flick of their wrist; Izuku had never known he was ever so powerful.

“Did you know about this, Kacchan?” he asks openly into the thick permeation of evergreen meadows and saccharine honeydew of his bedroom, because he’d never mistake that scent anywhere. There could only be one person, one he’d met in some distant memory that has now been retained, a boy so volatile that explosions seemed to cascade from his eyes; the familiarity of blood on asphalt steps and nitroglycerin had been so palpable on his tongue, and now he knows why. “Were you waiting for me to find out? You could’ve said something in your letters, you know—I wouldn’t have minded. Were you afraid of me remembering?”

Izuku smiles, then, slow and languid like a cat yawning awake from slumber. “You know I’d forgive you, Kacchan. I don’t think I could ever live with myself if I didn’t.”

Fatigue finally catching up to him, the True Omega nestles under the covers of his bed, wishing beyond anything that the warmth were his Alpha’s arms.

“Thank you for waiting for me, Alpha,” he mutters, his voice sleep-ridden and quiet, before unconsciousness overtakes him.

 


 

Placed carefully next to a single scarlet rose inside his backpack, a new letter waits for him after he awakens. Izuku doesn’t have any classes today, although he does have work in the afternoon, so he takes his time in gently unfolding the pieces of paper by their creases—and gapes anew at the number of pages hidden by the envelope.

It’s impossibly longer than any other letter he’s received from Kacchan put together. Most of the words are apologies, explanations, declarations of tempestuous love that has him fraying with emotion at the seams, hysterical in the way the sentences are delivered and the way the characters are scrawled onto unmargined spaces of white, and he can feel himself falling.

As if he hadn’t already been falling all this time.

“Deku, my Omega,” is the term of address atop the first page; the possessive connotation is enough to leave a lasting grin on Izuku’s lips. “I don’t fucking deserve you. God, you’re so perfect, so good to me, how could you even forgive me for what I did to you? I hadn’t deserved you even before you presented, and now you’ve fucked yourself open just so I could spend my rut to the thought of you? Shit, what did I do in my past life?”

He giggles fondly, a prideful blush gracing his freckled cheeks.

“I hurt you so, so badly before. Didn’t even realise until after you stopped me that what I was doing was wrong, fuck, you looked so fucking scared. You were telling me to stop, said it wasn’t the right time, said we were in the middle of the park in public, and I didn’t fucking listen. I fucked you up so bad, and my stupid ass ordered you to forget us, spent all these years none the wiser while I jerked off to pictures of you in my room, and you forgive me? Holy shit, Deku, you deserve so much better.”

“Kacchan, Katsuki, sweetheart, no,” he exclaims, horrified now. He can almost hear the distress in his Alpha’s voice, feeding into his mind the way only powerful imagination can accomplish, and his inner Omega whimpers. “You didn’t hurt me, and you’ve never once done anything to me that I didn’t like. Only thing I regret is failing to remember you sooner.”

Because of course he should remember. There’s never been anyone who has left a bigger impact than Bakugou Katsuki has on his life, despite what the letter might lead him to believe.

Blinking away frantic tears, he reads on.

 

“You deserve better, but I’m a piece of shit—I couldn’t help myself. And fuck, I know you meant them for my rut that’s coming up, but I took your clothes while you were asleep. God, Deku, you smell so amazing, and you were right there in front of me. I almost couldn’t bring myself not to touch you, but you need to be awake to say you want me, okay? I’m not about to take you in your sleep, I’d never let myself live with taking you without your consent like that. Not again. Not after that last time.

“Still got a few more days to go before my rut, but I’ll keep away from now on so I don’t get fucking tempted to pin you down on the street or some shit. I’m sorry; I know how much you like my scent, I’d be kind of blind not to, but it’s only for a week. I’m such a sorry excuse of a True Alpha, holy shit, can’t even control myself from wanting to claim you.

“But you want that, yeah? Like, okay, shit, I know you fucking want me, but you’ve gotta think this through. Use the time I’ll be away for my rut to consider if this is something you won’t regret later, because once I’m back, it’s either a yes or a no. You probably know that already. I mean, if it’s a no, I’m going to damn well respect that, but if it’s a yes, well. You’d better bet your fucking ass I’m gonna make sure it stays a yes. I’m never letting you go, shitty Deku. You’ve gotta remember that.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that, right? I fucking love you so much.

“Yours,

“Katsuki.”

 

It’s the first time that Izuku has ever received a signed letter from his Alpha. He knows now, of course, that it’s been Kacchan who has been writing to him and following him and sending him all these gifts, has known since the revelation of his childhood sweetheart’s name and face had plastered itself firmly into the throngs of his orgasm-addled brain, but there’s still something intrinsically satisfying about being right. About being validated, confirmed, his instincts lauded for their sharpness even in the face of a childhood he’d been commanded to forget.

Its influence over him is so strong that Izuku continues to think about it all throughout his shift, growing clumsy from the lack of attention towards drink orders and handling milk foam. When he nearly topples over himself at the counter, Ochako and Tenya have to pull him aside to ask if there’s something wrong.

“Oh! No, no, I’ve just been kind of busy with school these days,” he says by way of an excuse, not really sure how effective it’d be against two co-workers studying at the same university.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Iida Tenya wonders, brows furrowing in concern. He’s a good guy, gentle and caring and so doting towards Ochako that Izuku almost can’t believe they aren’t dating yet. “I’m an engineering major, and Uraraka-san is studying finance, so I’m afraid we won’t be able to do much with your core units and whatnot, but… Are any of your extra units giving you trouble?”

Izuku is about to shake his head—his classes have all been pretty much a breeze this semester. But then a stray thought overtakes him so that it festers slightly, sudden in the way it presents itself to him, and his brows furrow in concentration.

“Actually,” he starts, notices the way his two friends are hanging onto his every word. “I’ve been thinking about what to do with my project for Creative Literature. I-It’s not really my focus—I’ve always wanted to do journalism—but it’s a fun elective and I’ve been thinking about doing a story on a True Alpha-Omega pair. I know, it’s kind of cheesy and all, but one of those dramas my mom likes to watch on TV gave me some inspiration and I thought—maybe it’d be nice to write something like that, since I don’t really write romance, or even actual fiction, most of the time… Expand my horizons, you know? And I want to make it a little more accurate and realistic; society has all these pre-existing stereotypes about True Omegas and True Alphas, especially True Omegas since they’re so much rarer than the latter, so I wanted to see if there were more to those stereotypes and if I could find anything about True Omegas in the library, but like I said, there isn’t really much known about True Omegas, and it’s impossible to just pull one aside on the street for an interview since they’re so rare—”

“Midoriya-kun!” Ochako exclaims before he can go off on too much of a tangent. Izuku blinks, and realises that half the café’s attention has been directed towards his insistent muttering. “You’re rambling.”

Tenya, however, has a thoughtful frown on his face. “Well, the idea you’ve got for your project isn’t bad. It’s always great to challenge yourself with topics or concepts you aren’t quite confident in,” he allows. “And I’d really like to help you, but I just don’t know anyone who is a True Omega. I don’t even think they actually exist.”

“Of course they do,” Izuku retorts before he can stop himself.

“…And how do you know that’s the case, if you’ve never met one?”

His elusive boss, Aizawa Shouta, stares curiously at him with blood-shot eyes, half of his face obscured by the fading yellow fabric of his sleeping bag. The older man is always so quiet with the way he moves; if Izuku’s sensitive nose hadn’t picked up on the Alpha’s muted silver scent, he probably would’ve bristled to attention the way Ochako and Tenya are doing beside him right now.

“You better not let me see you slacking off again,” he warns, his threat redundant in the face of his fond employees. “Midoriya, come with me.”

Izuku gulps, hastens to comply. He’s never been called into the manager’s office before, and he’s wondering what Aizawa could possibly want from him when he’s met with a critical gaze as soon as he enters the room.

“You’re a True Omega, aren’t you?” his boss asks, sharp and straight to the point.

Izuku can’t find it within himself to lie. “Yes, sir,” he answers, truthfully.

“I take it that you’ve only just found out,” the older Yuuei graduate sighs, massages his temple with a weary hand. “You want answers, don’t you?”

“I… I do,” the True Omega confesses, slightly confused. A sliver of hope makes itself known in the pits of his stomach, despite the wariness of the situation that has been thrusted upon him so abruptly. “Wait, do you know something, Aizawa-san? How did you know I was one? Can you tell me more—”

“I know someone.” The other man blinks away the dryness in his eyes with an irritated huff. “Another True Omega, like you. You two give off that same vibe.”

“Wha—you do?” This is more than Izuku could ever hope for. There are so many things, so many loose threads he wants to connect together into the perfect rendition of a tapestry in his mind, and it seems unlikely that he’ll be able to stop the surprised delight from spilling out of his lips in droves. “Can you introduce me to them, Aizawa-san?”

“Yeah. I’ll give you their contact information,” the Alpha replies, nonchalant and weary. “They live around here, so it shouldn’t be too far away…”

As Aizawa scribbles down a phone number and address onto a crumpled piece of paper, Izuku positively vibrates in his seat.

I’m doing what you asked of me, Kacchan, he smiles to himself, giddy with anticipation. I’m going to find out more about this, think this through, and then—then, I’ll take your bite.

 


 

The True Omega that Aizawa had mentioned so casually in his office ends up being Yagi Toshinori, the award-winning actor who plays the titular character in Izuku’s favourite television series, All Might.

He has absolutely no reason to be this surprised.

All Might has been his driving force for as long as Izuku can remember, and if he really puts his mind to thinking about it, Yagi Toshinori seems to be the perfect example of a True Omega both in and out of his character; he’s wilful, independent, and a pillar of strength that’d inspired the younger Omega to take up a career of journalism in an attempt to emulate his heroic and philanthropic deeds in a more realistic manner.

Toshinori’s place of residence is jubilantly modest, a complete contrast to his extroverted personality and charismatic grins on the screen. Still bigger than Izuku’s tiny apartment, he takes the time to fanboy over the hallway littered with the older Omega’s achievements, tittering with barely-kept excitement at all the set memorabilia that he could’ve only hoped to see in his dreams.

Assuming that his Kacchan is still as big of a fan as he is, he would be turning green with envy if he knew.

“Ah, Young Midoriya!” Izuku’s childhood idol and role-model greets him. He’s a lot smaller in real life, all sharp angles and cut jawline, his figure deceptively slight without the aid of CGI. “Welcome, welcome. I take it that Aizawa-kun has sent you my way?”

“Y-Yes,” the younger Omega stutters, holds out a blank piece of paper and a pen with trembling hands. “But before we start, c-could you please sign this? I’ve been a fan of yours for a really long time, and to find out that you’re a True Omega like me, it’s—well—it’s kind of surreal.”

Toshinori laughs heartily at that, inexcusably charismatic even without a camera trained on his person. “Anything for a kindred spirit, Young Midoriya!”

They settle into the comfy chairs in Toshinori’s living room, facing opposite each other as his host pours him tea. He tries not to reel at the incredulity of it all and instead clears his throat to begin his barrage of questions; his obsession with all things All Might can wait for later.

“So,” Toshinori starts, grinning warmly. “What is it that you wanted to ask?”

“Lots,” Izuku confesses. “I’ve actually only recently discovered my real secondary gender, and none of the things on the internet are enough to answer my questions. Uh, I guess I’ll start with,” and here, he takes a peek at the list of questions he has written on his palm, almost as if he were conducting an interview, “what’s the difference between normal Omegas and True Omegas?”

The question seems to be a good one, because Toshinori lights up with glee. “Ah, yes, of course!” his exclaims. “In order to answer your question—and any others you might have after that—I’ll have to tell you a little story.”

Izuku leans in towards the coffee table between them, his piqued curiosity showing in full extremity on the glistening shimmer of his emerald eyes.

“A long, long time ago, before the set rules and societal norms of modern civilisation, Omegas were seen as an Alpha’s equal,” the famous actor regals, adopting a tone of magic and make-believe. “They needed to be, in order to survive; in the era of lawless conquest and absolute monarchy, the will to dominate and command others was heralded above all. Such is the way of natural selection, after all—those who are genetically stronger are always the ones who are favoured by the world. And in this cruel, man-eats-man world, the Alphas and the Omegas were the pinnacles of power.”

“But how could that be?” Izuku furrows his brows. “Omegas have always been physically weaker than Alphas, and they don’t have an Alpha’s Voice to give out commands…”

“Ah, but don’t tell me you’ve never picked a fight with an Alpha, Young Midoriya?” Toshinori tilts his head, the vivid blue of his eyes shining with intrigue. “How strange. We True Omegas have always been tenacious, even after the passage of so much time.”

“I mean, I have,” the younger Omega admits, feels slightly sheepish. “But that isn’t necessarily true for any of the other Omegas out there, and I’ve always been a little weird anyway, so I didn’t think too much about it.”

“While it is true that most other Omegas in the modern world are inferior in terms of strength to their Alpha counterparts, it isn’t true for you,” Toshinori tells him, soft and succinct. “You do know some things about being a True Omega, don’t you?”

Izuku nods somewhat hesitantly, unsure if his knowledge of something so arbitrary is accurate enough to share with someone who obviously seems to be more aware of their secondary gender. “Well, they say that we have the Voice, like Alphas do,” he says. “And that we’re more fertile, of course, but I’m not sure if that’s really true.”

“You better believe it, Young Midoriya, because it is!” the All Might actor exclaims. “You and I are made of something intrinsically different from today’s average Omega. While we are ultimately of the same species, their secondary genders are a result of a newer evolutionary branch in the history of humanity, one that catalysed in order to emulate the greatness of the Alphas and Omegas of old.

“However, they could never hope to catch up. The Omegas of the ancient world were capable of countless extraordinary things that can only be considered to be fantasy in this new age. They were always fertile to a fault, sure—even more fertile than the average Omega of today, if you can believe it—but never were they made to submit. Quite the contrary; they were made to rule, to stand alongside Alphas in the eternal game of heroic war, to be their strength and support in times of irrational conflict, and to do this, they needed to be capable of commanding the masses like their Alpha counterparts did.”

Izuku’s eyes widen in realisation, and Toshinori gives a brief, wilful sigh. “Yes, they had the Voice, just as we do. But where an Alpha’s Voice demands immediate and absolute submission, ours coerces and persuades, more so in the way of favours than outright commands. Our Voice exists to calm a raging battlefield and soothe an Alpha’s lust in rut, to quell a storm-ridden valley and plea to the heavens for rain.”

“Then,” Izuku blinks, the implications sinking into his very core; his inner Omega purrs at the awe and respect their existence demands of the world, preening at the power they hold in their grasp. “You’re trying to say that… that we’re like those Omegas? The ones from way back in the past?”

The older Omega smiles something soft and tender. “Yes,” he affirms. “Alphas and Omegas were extremely rare in those days, much like individuals like us are rare in modern society. We are made of the same mould as the pioneers of history were before us, unaffected by the scents and commands of modern Alphas.”

“But how does that even work?” Izuku finds himself wondering. “Modern Alphas evolved to emulate the Alphas back then, right? So how is it that they aren’t able to stand up to us, and how come modern Omegas are so much physically weaker?”

“It’s because, as time passed and society grew to implement long-standing rules that echo through this day and age, Omegas no longer needed to be stronger,” Toshinori says, as if it were as simple as that. “Less conquest meant less war, and life as a whole became less harsh for everyone involved. Betas now had the time to pamper their partners, to seek out professions that might not have been available to them in times of bloodshed; in this sense, they quickly learned to take charge of their own destiny and command their own fate, much in the same way that their Alpha and Omega leaders did. This was where it all started—Betas who had the power of conviction were labelled Alphas, and Betas who were fertile regardless of primary gender were labelled Omegas. Modern Alphas and Omegas are essentially the descendants of these Betas, who happened to have a slightly more Alpha or Omega inclination than the rest.

“We, however, descend from the true bearers of those titles. It’s like… if your great-great grandmother had blue eyes, and each subsequent generation failed to inherit that trait—until you came along, and did.”

Izuku nods thoughtfully to himself, acclimates himself to the truth of the identity that’s been repressed since his childhood. “I see,” he murmurs. “That… explains a lot, actually. But, um, I was hoping to ask just a couple more questions…”

“Of course, of course!” Toshinori grins, eyes alight with eagerness. “Matters like these aren’t simply settled by quick explanations. Ask away, Young Midoriya; I have practically all day.”

He first asks about him presenting later than the average Alpha or Omega, to which Toshinori assures is an integral part of being True. “We True Omegas present at around nine or ten years,” he declares, “while True Alphas present a lot earlier, at around three or four.”

This, Izuku can confirm to be truth. He had first met his Kacchan when they were both four years old; by then, the other boy had already shown his secondary gender to be that of a True Alpha. “Do you know why that is?” he finds himself asking, his curiosity momentarily getting the best of him. “Ah, I mean, you don’t need to answer if you don’t know, I was just wondering why it’s so different from everyone—”

“That is quite alright, Young Midoriya!” his idol reassures, still grinning. “The reason is so that True Alphas get the chance to detect the presence of a True Omega before the latter presents; this way, when the Omega does present, there’s a higher chance of forming a Fated Pair.”

At hearing this, Izuku can only reel back in astonishment. “A Fated Pair?” he parrots, startled at the mention of a trope so embedded in the entertainment industry. “Isn’t that just a myth? Are you saying that such a thing actually exists?”

“Don’t forget, my boy,” the elder Omega cautions, his tone going a few notes deeper in warning, “that True Omegas, too, are considered myth. We are that rare. So are True Alphas, of course, but there have been more of them identified in the public eye, especially as of late, while we tend to keep more to ourselves about our secondary genders. Anyway, there is absolutely no reason why a Fated Pair shouldn’t exist when we, people who are supposedly legends ourselves, are present in this day and age.”

“You’re part of a Fated Pair then, right? Have you met them yet?”

“Ah, it doesn’t quite work like that. We all know what the movies have to say about it—that it’s a ‘pre-determined bond’ between a True Alpha and a True Omega or whatnot, something that has been decided by fate since before the pair are born—but reality is a little more practical about it. A Fated Pair can only be formed if a True Alpha is within the vicinity where a True Omega is in the middle of presenting; they are essentially rarer than the occurrence of True Alphas and True Omegas combined.”

“Within the vicinity?” Izuku parrots in a near-screech, is reminded of that day at the park with reinvigorated intensity.

“There’s still no certainty that a bond will be formed, however,” Toshinori is quick to deny, almost as if he can see the hope swelling rapidly in Izuku’s lungs. “That’s where the ‘pre-determined’ part comes from. The Alpha and the Omega need to be intrinsically compatible, and needs to have had a long-standing connection with each other before the Omega has even presented.”

It fits the bill perfectly, the younger Omega marvels to himself, his heart pattering out erratic beats in his eardrums. Out loud, he says, “Does the Alpha need to bite the Omega for the bond to form?”

“Ultimately, perhaps,” the blonde actor allows. “I myself am not part of one, since I didn’t meet and wasn’t around any True Alphas at the time of my presentation, but my acting teacher—may her soul rest in peace—was. She mentioned that a Fated Pair is immediately determined upon the Omega’s presentation, without anyone having to bite the other. From there on out, the two individuals will be linked together for the rest of their lives, similar to the concept of mutual mating bites—which I’m sure you’ve heard of, yes?”

“Yes, but doesn’t that mean they won’t be affected by anyone else’s scent?” Izuku frowns. It certainly explains his slight repulsion towards the smell of anyone who isn’t his Kacchan. “That… seems a little unfair. What if they decided they were better off as friends, in the future?”

“No, no, no, it doesn’t have to be romantic at this point, although it is true that other scents will only ever be tolerable at best to them,” Toshinori shakes his head adamantly, leans forward to soothe the tension in the green-headed Omega’s shoulders. “The Omega’s presentation is only the initiation of a Fated Pair, a crude bond if you will; the two involved have only been singled out to be prime matches for each other, but unless they give each other their bite, they’re still able to mate with other people. If they have given mutual bites, however—which is often the case when both parties are young and unable to control their instincts—it’s a totally different story.”

“Could you please explain a little more about the initiation—the crude bond?” Izuku presses on. “I think I might… This is probably…”

Toshinori, bless his soul, acquiesces. He doesn’t pry about Izuku’s situation, doesn’t comment on the younger Omega’s slightly glazed-over expression, and only gives him as many answers as he can. In the end, it’s Izuku himself who confesses the existence of his Kacchan, his possible-maybe-definitely Fated Alpha.

“We were nine,” he admits, and there isn’t a single trace of pain or hesitation in his voice. There is only the lingering desire for someone who has been terribly missed. “I presented in public, and he… mounted me. And it definitely wasn’t because I didn’t want him to—even back then, I’d been so enamoured by him that I tended not to care much about anything else—but I just felt like it was too soon. We were so young, in front of so many people, and even though at the time I’d already been so sure that I wanted him as my mate, regardless of my gender, he might’ve grown up and realised that he didn’t want me back.”

The blinding glint in the All Might actor’s eyes are grave as he gives his reply, his voice a sombre rendition of his previously lackadaisical joy. “I don’t see any bites on your neck,” he observes, taking a swift peek at Izuku’s exposed scent gland. “What happened after that?”

“I haven’t had a proper explanation for it since I remembered, but, now I know I must’ve accidentally used my Voice on him,” Izuku mutters. His eyes are trained firmly on the fabric of his jeans, his hands twining with each other on his lap in an attempt to distract himself from the inevitable retelling of his presentation as a True Omega. “He snapped out of his induced rut, and realised what he was doing to me. He was so horrified by what he’d done that he… he commanded me to forget it all, to forget him, to forget us; I only really remembered he existed because he started sending me letters at the start of the semester. I just… We were nine.”

Toshinori places a firm, steadying hand on his shoulder once more. In any other situation, Izuku might’ve sang praises to the heavens for being given such an opportunity, would’ve cried himself an early grave at such a casual display of comfort from someone he’s considered to be his role-model since his very early childhood, but right now, he can only give a trembling smile in return.

“You must be feeling a bit lost, then?” the elder Omega presumes. He presumes right. “Would it be alright to tell me why?”

“It’s, well, it’s kind of hard to explain,” Izuku balks, winces a little from the lack of words that seem sufficient enough to get his point across on his tongue. “I just feel like it’s a little unfair, you see. I never—he didn’t even give me a chance to tell him how I felt about it before he forced me to forget.”

“But you remember now, don’t you, my boy?” Toshinori points out a positive angle, his tone a ray of sunshine to Izuku’s melancholic hollow. “Perhaps he should’ve talked to you before making that decision for himself, and he might have been a little selfish for forcing you to forget a mistake of his and running away from it instead of facing it head on, but think of it this way; he cared about you so much that he would rather take himself away from your life than risk hurting you the way he did before.”

Izuku looks down at his freckled hands, skin unmarred and so smooth that the light of Toshinori’s living room appears to retract a muffled glow along its surface. “That’s… a nice way of thinking about it,” he decides. “But the thing is, I don’t want him out of my life. I—I want to be his mate. I want him to be mine.”

“Oh, but that’s simply fixed!” the All Might actor declares. “You mentioned that he started writing to you, did you not? Then tell him. Make him understand that the past is the past, and the only thing you can do about it is go beyond and do better.”

The younger Omega nods firmly, resolution holding steady in the emerald of his eyes. “I will,” he decides, then and there, veins pulsing with renewed vigour. His inner Omega thrums with excitement, chanting their desire for their True Alpha in a heightening cacophony that can almost be a millennium-old battle cry. “Thank you so much for everything, Yagi-san!”

“No problem at all, my boy! Call me any time if you have any more questions,” Toshinori waves him off, as jubilant as ever. “Ah, but I don’t recall you ever telling me your Alpha’s name. Can you indulge an old man’s nosiness?”

“Of course! I call him Kacchan,” is Izuku’s proud reply, “but his real name is Bakugou Katsuki.”

His childhood idol gives a slow, uncomprehending blink, takes an off-hand sip of his warm cup of tea. “Sorry, could you repeat that again, Young Midoriya?”

“B-Bakugou Katsuki?”

At once, Yagi Toshinori’s joy-softened eyes sharpen into an effervescent cyan, hunching over to cough into his hand.

“Your Fated Alpha is Bakugou Katsuki?” he shrieks.

 


 

The story goes a little something like this:

Bakugou Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku are childhood friends. Their first meeting is a little serendipitous; they don’t go to the same preschool, don’t even live on the same street, but at the ripe age of four, they meet each other in the only park in town with a playground, and from there is where the ball starts rolling.

“You can’t put me down like that!” is the first thing a young Izuku ever says to his Alpha, his tone a defiant challenge to the other boy’s authority. “Just because you’re a True Alpha doesn’t mean you’re better than everyone else.”

Nobody has ever willingly stood up to him before that, and perhaps nobody else ever will. The green-headed twerp before him hasn’t even presented yet, but there’s something about the way he stands up to Katsuki that just sticks, that leaves a lasting impression on the stubborn edges of his inner Alpha’s consciousness—and the weight of it has him stepping back slightly.

They butt heads constantly after that, and Katsuki’s mother is grateful for it; her son is an heir, the sole scion of a generations-old Bakugou fortune, and for him to properly take up that mantle, there needs to be someone willing to pull him off his pedestal and anchor him to the ground. And so they flourish and grow, twining against each other and holding the other up as twin towers are wont to do, never missing a single day without seeing the other at the park—until it happens.

At age nine, Midoriya Izuku presents as a True Omega.

None of the other kids playing with them even have the time to react. Quicker than lightning itself, Katsuki has pushed the Omega to the ground, has shoved his knotting cock into the other boy’s greedy hole; his mind is a surmounting chaos of mate, mate, mate and claim, claim, claim, his inner Alpha barking at him to seal, to bite, to possess Izuku’s entire being within his tiny hands.

“K-Kacchan,” his Omega moans in between kisses, tries to meet his gaze despite the haze of his first heat and the monumental realisation that his Kacchan is going to make him his, and thirty other people are going to see. “I want to be yours so, s-so badly, but not in public, Ka—ah! That feels really good, but—we’re in public, stop—”

But Katsuki doesn’t, and he can hear the horror ringing vaguely from the parents around him. He thinks he hears his Auntie Inko among all the clamour, but it’s muffled by the loud thrum of his heartbeat and the burgeoning scent of evergreen meadows and saccharine honeydew that pervades from his future mate’s neck; he wants to bury his nose there, to tear through flesh and leave a permanent mark—but all of a sudden, he can’t move.

“Please stop, Kacchan,” Izuku commands. A faint spike of electricity threads through where they’re connected at their hips, pinning Katsuki’s resolve the way he’d pinned his Omega to the ground just before. “You aren’t in your right mind. We’re in public, don’t you see? We can find somewhere a little more private—I know you’d hate to let anyone else see us like this. So please, snap out of it for a bit. For me.”

And this time, he listens. Oh, does he listen. Awareness of what he’s just done gnaws at his throat, the molten rubies of his eyes widening with dread at the sacrilege of his future mate, his precious Deku, and he can’t think about it anymore, can’t handle the hatred that he’s sure will be on the other boy’s face when he looks up to take a peek, so frightened by what he’ll find that he makes a split-second decision and promises himself that he’ll never do it again.

“You need to forget about this, Deku,” the words spill out of his lips in disarray, panic lacing his vowels in position. “Forget about me, forget about us—god, what did I do, what did I do—”

That day is the last that they ever see each other. Katsuki’s Voice is heard, loud and clear and palpable not just to the Omega he pleads them to, but also to the people around them; his Auntie Inko’s eyes glaze over in reluctant submission, and the memory of what has just transpired is wiped from everybody’s mind. Izuku and his mother decide to move away from their little town, telling nobody and remembering nobody, leaving Katsuki to lie awake after nightmares and croon apologies to photos of his Omega sent by hired investigators.

It’s enough, for a time. Really, it is.

But time waits for nobody, and sooner rather than later, it doesn’t come anywhere close to being satisfactory.

As Izuku spends his annual heats begging for a blurred figure of an Alpha to plug him up with his knot, only picturing an unmistakably ash-blonde head and piercing blood-red eyes, Katsuki grows more and more restless with need, until what had once been enough is now barely capable of satisfying him.

“Just one letter,” his mother insists, nudges a pen and paper into his unwilling hands. “You’ll never know unless you try, right?”

And on the morning of their first year at Yuuei University, the ball starts rolling once more.

 


 

Izuku hadn’t realised his Alpha was this notorious.

Anyone he asks—Ochako, Tenya, his boss, Shouto, Himiko, Shigaraki and all the other people who gravitate towards him in friendship and courtship alike—have at least heard of the controversial conglomerate heir; apparently, there’d been an attempted kidnapping some years back when they were middle school, and Izuku hadn’t even heard about it.

Further research details something about the kidnapper wanting a ransom for Katsuki’s safe return, on the grounds that should his parents refuse, he would be forcefully mated to an Omega of the kidnapper’s choosing. His capable True Alpha, of course, had only needed to use his Voice to set himself free, but knowing this doesn’t stop Izuku from almost cracking his phone screen from holding it so tightly between his fingers.

He steps into his next lecture with his head in a faraway place, still processing the onslaught of new information about himself, his Kacchan, and the circumstances that twine them together; he wants to be intimidated by the immensity of it all, sure, but all he really wants is to curl himself into his Alpha’s arms and never leave.

“Good morning, Kirishima-kun,” he greets to the Alpha he always sits next to in this class, a red-head named Kirishima Eijirou who has teeth akin to a shark’s. The smell of spice and concrete unfurls in invisible waves around him—not too bad, but definitely not like his Kacchan’s—as he pats the free seat next to him for Izuku to take.

“Morning, Midoriya-kun,” the Alpha is replying. “How’s your day, so far?”

“Eh, the usual,” Izuku shrugs, nonchalant despite the millions of thoughts hurtling through his brain. “And yours?”

“Terrible, actually,” Eijirou sighs to himself, shaking his head with what appears to be some semblance of worry. “One of my friends is expecting his rut somewhere within the next few days, and still he insists on coming to his classes. He’s giving me and my boyfriend a pretty big headache.”

“You mean Kaminari-kun?” Izuku blinks. Kaminari Denki is Eijirou’s Omega boyfriend; he sees him waiting for Eijirou outside the lecture hall sometimes to walk with him to their next class together. “Aren’t you worried he’ll try to claim him without you there?”

“Nah, my bro’s got an eye on someone else,” the Alpha laughs off Izuku’s concern. “I swear I’ve never even seen him be affected by anybody’s scent. And anyway, they’ve got our other friends with them—Mina and Hanta, I think you might’ve met?”

The True Omega nods. “Yeah, I have,” he says, slightly confounded by the amount of faith Eijirou has on his friends to keep his Omega safe. “But—are you really sure?”

“Certain,” the red-head assures, chuckles at Izuku’s floundering expression. “He’s got amazing control, that Bakugou. So manly, I swear.”

“I see,” the green-haired boy murmurs to himself—and raises his head so fast that the room almost spins in his vision. “Wait, did you say Bakugou? As in, Bakugou Katsuki? Your friend is Bakugou Katsuki?”

“Yeah. Why, you got a problem with that?” Eijirou frowns. There’s a faint vibrating sensation coming from his pocket that has him flinching and pawing at his lap the moment it begins. “Sorry man, I gotta take this.”

Izuku takes a steadying breath. The scope of his world has suddenly narrowed to the breadth of the room around him, to the halls outside it and the sprawling grounds of Yuuei University. His Alpha, his Kacchan, his precious True Mate has been this close the entire time, and he hadn’t even been aware of it, had simply cast Eijirou’s casual mentions of his unnamed friend aside to ponder over blood on the asphalt steps of an exploding building and the aftertaste of nitroglycerin on his tongue, but of course he’d be here—Izuku registers his scent on the school grounds more often than not, despite the distasteful influence of scent-blockers that attempts to cloud his sense of smell. God, how can he be so daft?

“He’s what?” Eijirou is yelling into his phone, his voice reverberating loud enough that it blinks Izuku out of his stupor. “Fuck, wait, I need to get there right now—what do you mean he’s trying to look for someone—”

“What’s wrong?” Izuku asks frantically, even though he’s already got a clue.

“It’s Katsuki, he’s entering rut,” the Alpha explains hastily with his phone still pressed into his ear, mindlessly shoving his things into his bag as trepidation usurps the motion of Izuku’s heartbeat and stabs into the air in his lungs. “Shit, and in the cafeteria, too. I knew he shouldn’t have come today—who? No, I don’t know anybody named Deku, that’s probably the person he said he was waiting for, right?”

A piercing needle stabs through the air in his lungs.

Our Alpha is looking for us, Izuku’s inner Omega laments. He needs us, our Alpha needs us, we need to be there, we need to—

“Kirishima-kun,” he calls out, can faintly hear the quiver in his own voice. “I want to come with you.”

 


 

Eijirou acquiesces after a few minutes of persuasion on Izuku’s part, the True Omega practically begging to let him tag along; Izuku swears there had been a moment the Alpha was ready to say no, but he must’ve seen the desperation that claws so painfully at his skin even now that he’d had no choice but to say yes.

“Get away, get away!”

“There’s a True Alpha going into rut in the cafeteria! It could be dangerous, don’t—”

The cafeteria is a hell-hole of pungent scents when they get there, fear and weariness seeping into the sensitivity of Izuku’s nostrils and nearly toppling him over to a group of Betas shivering in the corner—but his Kacchan’s screams of anguish are so loud, so world-shattering that he forces himself to journey on despite the potency of the air around him.

“Let go of me!” his Alpha is demanding, and it’s the first time Izuku has heard his voice since they were nine. “Deku, I need to see my Deku—”

“I’m here!” Izuku yells back, raises his voice in the hopes of it reaching his future mate’s ears. “Kacchan, I’m here!”

He wants to get to where his Alpha is, really, he does, but there are just so many people. The fragrances proliferating in his nostrils are getting impossibly thicker, laced with heightening panic, and he needs to push through the crowd that runs in the opposite direction from where he wishes to go, so he takes a painful gulp of air, and demands for his will to be done.

“Please,” as electricity settles into the space of his palm, inciting his Voice to be heard by the masses. “Let me through.”

It’s a scene straight out of a comic, the way the sea of people seems to part instantly at his words. A clear path towards his destination makes itself known before him, and Izuku doesn’t even think, just hurls himself at the ash-blonde figure that hunches in on himself in the middle of the room.

“Midoriya-kun?” he hears, vaguely, the exclamation of shock coming from Ashido Mina’s lips. “What are you doing here? It could be danger—”

“Kacchan, Kacchan, look at me,” Izuku ignores her, ignores anybody else trying to pull him away from his Alpha. “I’m here, Alpha, look at me.”

The moment that Bakugou Katsuki meets his gaze is the moment Izuku falls in love with him all over again.

And he can’t help himself, could never help himself in the face of someone he’s been so enamoured with since he was four years old—he pulls the Alpha’s neck in towards him, and crashes their lips together in a kiss.

The action is strikingly compelling, poetic in the way it resonates through their very limbs and spiders warmth into the marrows of their quaking bones; Katsuki’s lips are intoxicating, pulling from within him a dormant heat that wakens into startling life. The Alpha keeps giving and giving and giving, angling Izuku’s head to gain better access to his mouth, and the shove of a tongue down his throat is so exhilarating that the Omega is still keening with arousal when they finally pull away.

“Izuku, Deku, my Deku,” his Kacchan babbles. His voice is just as gravelly as it had been in their youth, despite being deeper in quality, and it does things to Izuku’s spine. “Wha—you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here, Kacchan,” Izuku tells him, bringing his hands to rest more comfortably against Katsuki’s cheeks—as if to anchor him to the earth and never let go. “God, you smell so good for me. Such a good boy, my True Alpha, waiting for me after all this time. Why did you never tell me?”

“Didn’t want to hurt you again,” comes the reply, in a confession so broken that Izuku’s inner Omega shatters and aches. “I took you, was about to claim you, wasn’t in my right mind, Deku, I’m sorry—”

The True Omega pulls him into his chest, inhaling the nitroglycerin he finds at the Alpha’s nape. The heady aroma of rut-induced pheromones curls itself into his lower abdomen, but Izuku can wait; they’re in public, just like the first time, and he isn’t about to give the onlooking crowd a free show.

“There’s no need to be sorry, you know?” he coos into the True Alpha’s ear, runs a hand through his unruly head of hair and revels at the blood on asphalt steps that perfuses the space around them in response. “I didn’t mind it at the time, Kacchan, you’ve got to believe that. Just thought it was too soon, you know? We were in public. Y-You might’ve snapped out of it, and realised you didn’t want me.”

His Alpha growls at this. “Fucking bullshit,” he spits out, his potty mouth rearing its head. “I’d never not want you, Deku. You’re my fucking world. Would move galaxies for you, shitty nerd, I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” he replies, and finally saying it aloud has the oxygen in his lungs disintegrating into nothingness. There’s a heaviness in the hallow of his throat that seems to expand with each passing minute, worsening along with the blur of unshed tears in his peripheral sight. “So, so much, Kacchan. More than you know. I want your bite so much, Alpha—didn’t even need to think it through, but I did like you told me to, and I want it. Want you. Want your bite, your knot, your pups, Kacchan, want to be your Fated Pair.”

“Fuck, you would know about that, huh?” his Kacchan has the gall to laugh weakly, the sound wet and unstable. “Holy shit, Deku, you’re too good for me. My True Omega, so beautiful. You won’t regret it, will you?”

“Who do you think I am?” Izuku levels him with an unimpressed look, marred though it is by the simmering affection that hints at his eyes. “I would’ve let you mark me then, at the park. I just thought that there were so many people around, you know? Didn’t want to share our first time with everyone, but you have to know how badly I wanted it. How badly I wanted you. God, if we were by ourselves then, I could’ve—and all these years… But I’ll never, ever regret it. My only regret is that I wasn’t yours sooner.”

Katsuki absolutely keens at hearing this; Izuku can almost imagine the swell of his inner Alpha’s chest, chin jutting out in pride at such a confession coming out of their Fated Omega’s mouth. Faster than he has any right to be in the throes of his rut, his Alpha slides an arm under Izuku’s knees and lifts him up with all the challenge and defiance of a man looking down at the rest of the world. Izuku rests his head against Katsuki’s broad chest, marvelling at the erratic heartbeat he finds there, and listens to the way the entire cafeteria is bent to his True Alpha’s will.

“Move, you shitty extras,” he commands, his Voice booming with tenacity, “or I’ll beat you all up within an inch of your lives.”

To Izuku, he looks down fondly and whispers, “This is your final warning, Omega. If you don’t want this, don’t wanna be tied down to shitty old me, then say so, right now. Because there isn’t gonna be any turning back the moment after I’m stepping out of this fucking room.”

“Oh, just get me out of here already, Alpha,” Izuku rolls his eyes, haughty and impatient with the promise of desire. “I want your knot now.”

And Katsuki doesn’t need to be told twice.

Chapter Text

It shouldn’t be surprising to Izuku that his Kacchan has lived so close to his apartment this whole time, and it doesn’t. Katsuki’s apartment is an expansive suite on the top floor of the building next door to his own, with a breathtaking view of the cityscape below from the one-way mirrored windows of his living room, and all Izuku can think about is how much he’s looking forward to getting fucked against the cold surface of its glass.

“Never knew you were this filthy, Omega,” Katsuki growls in his ears when Izuku voices this, nips playfully at the shell of his ear in a wanton display of carnal affection. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want my entire apartment to smell like you, so you can remind me how many times I’ve fucked you with my knot.”

Izuku mewls. “Please, Alpha,” he begs, salivating at the prospect of having his Kacchan’s pups bred into him. “Take me to bed, fuck me, breed me, please—I want your knot so bad.”

“Of course you do,” Katsuki purrs; the remnants of Izuku’s commands are still influencing his consciousness, keeping him lucid enough to walk them both to the bedroom. “I’ll give it to you, baby, don’t you worry. You’ll take care of me, won’t you? Won’t let me hurt you, won’t let me go too far?”

“You could never go too far,” Izuku promises, just as he’s being placed gently onto the plush mattress of Katsuki’s four-poster bed. “But I promise, Kacchan, I’ll be here to stop you. I’m your Omega after all, and I’m True; I wouldn’t let you boss me around if I didn’t want you to.”

With a final press of his lips to his Alpha’s forehead, he says, “You can let yourself go.”

His Voice has an instantaneous effect on the True Alpha before him, slackening his grip on reality and replacing his coherency with the animalistic urge to mate, mate, mate and claim, claim, claim. The scent of blood on the asphalt steps of an exploding building and the surmounting cogency of nitroglycerin suffuses into the air that Izuku breathes, and it smells so nice, tastes so saturated on the surface of his tongue that he can feel slick trickle down his inner thighs from a mere whiff of it.

“Never wear scent-blockers ever again, please,” he finds himself whispering into the crook of his Kacchan’s neck. “I hate it when your scent is muffled. You smell so delicious, Alpha.”

A pleasant rumble reverberates from Katsuki’s chest as a response to Izuku’s words, his breath fanning over the sensitive skin of his Omega’s neck; Izuku keens, spreads his legs wide as a show of willing submission, and Katsuki plunders, doesn’t even hesitate to move into the space generated by the opening of his thighs, grinding down dangerously against the obvious erection that bulges out of the other boy’s jeans.

Izuku swears he sees stars. The resulting friction is world-alteringly hot, bleeding into his twitching hole as the air is saturated by the fragrance of evergreen meadows and saccharine honeydew. He paws at the zipper of his Alpha’s jeans, mindless in his pursuit for the musk that suffuses there, and palms vigorously at the aching cock he finds in the confines of Katsuki’s underwear.

“Fuck, yes,” the blonde Alpha groans, bucks his hips shallowly into the stretch of Izuku’s hand. The action brings a pleased grin to his face, and there’s no helping the drool that gathers at his throat as he feels the tell-tale dampness of Katsuki’s pre-come soaking his underwear, no use in holding back his hungry whimpers as he teases playfully at the other boy’s cockhead through the fabric.

“You’re so hard for me,” Izuku marvels, taking his Alpha’s clothed erection into his hand. “You’re gonna give me your knot, right, Kacchan? Gonna give me your pups, gonna pump me full of your seed?”

Katsuki’s response is unintelligible, but he gets the general gist; the warm cock in his palm twitches eagerly at the prospect of the True Omega’s words, and the sound that spills out of Katsuki’s mouth is so pitiful that Izuku has to pull his shaft free from its confines, out of his jeans and into the open air of the room around them—he has no other choice.

“There, there,” he soothes, his mouth watering. His Kacchan’s cock is so big, so thick with the musk of nitroglycerin that it filters into his lungs and incites his tiny Omega dick to give an answering spasm. “I’ll take care of you, Alpha, I’m here. Will you let me suck you off, baby? Let me wrap my tongue around that pretty knot of yours?”

“Deku, yes, shit,” his Kacchan grits out, hisses as Izuku trails kisses down his bare chest—and when had that happened? Izuku can’t be certain, but he is thankful for it; the less clothes covering Katsuki’s chest, the more space there is to leave open-mouthed kisses and lingering marks, and he takes the opportunity with not an ounce of hesitation.

Before he can lap his tongue over the Alpha’s exposed nipples, Katsuki pulls him up to bite at his lips. His tongue snakes down Izuku’s throat, coaxing his mouth wide enough for saliva to coalesce in rivulets down the corners of his lips, and the way he’s taken is so volatile, so lethal—just like the first time, exactly like that day at the park, and the Omega’s breath hitches just at the mere remembrance.

He unzips his own fly without sparing even a second, scrambles out of his pants and his underwear and flings them to some forgotten corner on the opposite side of the room. The air on his cock is liberating, relieving and, pulling away from Katsuki’s addictive mouth, he lowers himself down so that he is face-to-face with his Alpha’s engorged length. Pre-come weeps from its angry head in dizzying tears, taking on a luminescent quality from the overhanging lights of Katsuki’s bedroom, and Izuku just can’t take it anymore. It looks so mouth-watering, so exquisite—with a yearning breath, he devours it greedily, careful not to scrape any of his teeth against it, and sucks.

“Holy fuck,” the blonde is panting, finding purchase in the messy strands of Izuku’s hair. “Deku, shit, just like that—”

Izuku hums in affirmation. He brings Katsuki’s cockhead into the base of his throat, bobbing his head up and down in a flurry of repetitive movement, and the lethal aftertaste of nitroglycerin is so palpable on his tongue that he moans rhythmically in time to his own motion, reaching down to play with his slick-soaked hole as he goes.

“You’re so—fucking—good to me, Omega,” his True Alpha praises through the delirious heat of his own rut, his satisfaction pervading around him in a trail of blood seeping into the asphalt steps of an exploding building. Without asking, only taking and taking and taking, he thrusts shallowly into the wet cavern of Izuku’s mouth, prompting tears to leak out of the True Omega’s emerald eyes; the green-headed boy chokes on Katsuki’s monstrous cock, his gag reflex rearing its ugly head, but continues to angle his head in ways that has Katsuki convulsing on the sheets before him.

“Deku, baby, fuck, Omega—stop,” Izuku’s red-eyed future mate all but pleads; his inner Omega preens at the consecutive affectionate nicknames that flow out of his Kacchan’s mouth. “’M gonna—damn it, you need to—god, coming, coming, coming—”

The other boy’s come is scorching-hot in the Omega’s mouth, and Izuku whines with longing. He needs this, absolutely aches for Katsuki’s meteoric seed to paint his inner walls a stellar pearl, and almost sobs in despair at having wasted his Alpha’s knot in his mouth. Impassioned and fervent, he slips four fingers into his dripping asshole with all the impatience garnered from years and years of repressed pining, of weary nights and half-formed memories of his Kacchan’s ambiguous figure, and spreads himself as wide as his fingers will allow.

He’ll need it, he knows. Katsuki’s cock barely fits into his hands from how enormous it is.

“Alpha, Kacchan, please,” Izuku whimpers, notices with delight that his future mate hasn’t, in fact, formed a knot, and remains as rock-hard as he’d been before he came. “Need you in me, need you to breed me, ‘m gonna make you feel so good.”

With an answering growl, Katsuki seizes the Omega’s mouth with his own despite having had his cock shoved down there just before, and usurps the underlying hint of evergreen meadows that lingers there. Izuku hums with happiness; the Alpha’s lips are plush and velvet smooth, and makes a perfect sensation combined with the curl of Izuku’s own fingers in his ass.

“Yeah, stretch yourself out for me, Deku,” Katsuki demands, takes command of the erratic thrusts Izuku’s hips are making into his abdomen. The flesh of his stomach makes for a nice threshold against the True Omega’s cock, pre-come smearing on skin, but it isn’t quite enough. “Fuck, so good to me, look at you.”

“Please, please, I need your knot,” Izuku is begging at this point, and his fingers are so deep within himself but they still can’t quite reach, still can’t quite hit that tight bundle of nerves as well as they used to. He imagines that his Kacchan’s cock would slot so perfectly into the space left behind by his digits, would more than compensate for the untraversed distance to his prostate, and he can’t help but give out a needy whine. “You’d fit so well in me, Alpha, please, please, please—”

“Okay,” Katsuki says at once. It isn’t until a moment later that Izuku realises he’d accidentally used his Voice, but it doesn’t matter; the taller blonde is prying his fingers away from his ass, all but slapping them away in his haste to reach as he lines up the sweltering length of his cock against the Omega’s fluttering hole, which clenches around empty space from the sudden lack of substance inside it, and pushes in.

The stretch is entrancingly divine. His Kacchan’s cock is so massive that it almost splits him in half, tinkering a dull ache in his inner thighs that feels so delicious that Izuku thinks he might come at any moment—and wouldn’t that be sight, him coming from just a single thrust of Katsuki’s shaft into his hole?

“Kacchan, yes, yes!” he screams, his mind going blissfully blank. The True Alpha before him is wordless, unquestioning, only takes and takes and takes all that Izuku is willing to give. He jerks his hips so that his bulge almost falls out of the Omega’s ass, slamming it back in not a moment later, and the satisfaction that clouds Izuku’s vision is magnificently vivid; it’s been so long, far too long, since he’s been plugged up like this, and he doesn’t even need to worry about their surroundings this time.

For a few moments, nothing could be heard but for the wet slap of skin against skin and the shaky groans of heightening desire, Katsuki’s low growls rumbling dangerously in his chest and Izuku’s breathy whimpers pushing past half-parted lips. When the desire to touch, to hold, to bite and claim becomes much too much for the Omega to handle, he reaches blindly for the soft strands of his Alpha’s hair and tugs harshly to bring his head down, peppers open-mouthed kisses along the other boy’s exposed scent gland.

The sigh he receives in reply is heavy with brimming emotion. “Do it, Deku,” Katsuki urges, angles his cock so that it hits the tender nerves of Izuku’s prostate every single time he slams back in. “Mark me, come on. Didn’t you say you wanted one? A mutual mating bite? Fuck, I can give you so much more than that, baby, we’ll be a Fated fucking Pair. Yeah, just like that, shit—”

“Gonna claim you so well,” the True Omega is promising, meeting each thrust with a shallow buck of his hips. He pulls back from the tight latch he has on his future mate’s neck, just enough to see the primal lustre of Katsuki’s heated glare as he brings a finger to brush a stray lock of ash-blonde hair away from the other boy’s face. “You’ll be knotting me within a second, Kacchan, I’ll mark you up so good.”

“Fuck, yeah,” his Kacchan nods his head, almost hysterical in the way he does so and, impossibly, fucks Izuku even harder. “God, baby, wanna come on your bite, wanna breed you with my pups, wanna be yours.”

“You already are,” the green-headed boy tells him, plain and true. “And now, I’ll be yours, too.”

His canines sink into the flesh of Katsuki’s scent gland without a warning, and oh, the bond is heavenly. It washes over him in tiny surges of electric currents, slithering up his spine to burrow into the empty space that’d previously held nothing but is now overflowing with passion, love, ecstasy and the trailblazing yells of Deku, Deku, Deku

“Yes, yes, Kacchan—oh my god,” he hisses as his Kacchan bites into the skin of his neck. The static of spiking energy that nestles wherever he and Katsuki meet are now transformed into overwhelming lightning, coursing through his veins and ramping up the pleasure of being taken, being fucked, being claimed and bred and owned in full extremity so that Izuku can do nothing but sob into his Fated Alpha’s shoulder.

“I can hear you,” the blonde-headed boy whispers, the gravel of his voice ringing prominently in the True Omega’s ears. And Izuku can hear him too, can hear the fuck, is this really happening? and the I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve you—and he’s so, so happy. “You’re everywhere, Dek—fuck, I’m coming—”

Izuku’s eyes grow alight with want. “Come for me, Alpha,” he spurs. Katsuki’s thrusts are starting to stutter, ramming deeper and deeper into the warmth of his hole, and he can feel the mounting fever of his own orgasm threatening to overcome him through the rush of blood to his cock. “Give me your knot, yes, yes, yes, coming—!”

The backs of his eyelids are etched with the iridescent glow of a thousand suns, and the undulation of pleasure into his inner thighs is so thunderous that he arches his back off of the mattress in an edging scream and—god, he’s never felt anything like this in his life.

He feels it, the moment when Katsuki’s enlarged knot finally catches, can feel the pulsing of his Alpha’s cock as it paints his inner walls a lovely white and as it spurts hot seed into his womb. Izuku sighs, smiles gently at the slight bump made on his lower abdomen from the swell of his Kacchan’s knot inside him, feeling satisfied and so, so full.

“My Kacchan, my mate,” he beckons to the True Alpha. Looking up to meet the other boy’s gaze head-on, he sees the mirrored wonderment that filters through those molten ruby eyes, unfurling as blood on asphalt steps and lethal nitroglycerin in the space around them in answer to the aroma of evergreen meadows and saccharine honeydew that he emits. “I love you so, so much. You can feel it right? You know.”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” the gravel of Katsuki’s voice cracks with emotion. “You’re so perfect, so true, and—fuck, can you feel it too? You gotta know how much I fucking love you, Deku, I’d give you everything.”

“But you don’t have to,” Izuku insists, eyeing the artful sex-damp toss of his Alpha’s hair, reminiscent of a halo in the blinding light. “I already have you. After all these years, after forgetting, I—I’ve got you.”

“I shouldn’t have used my fucking Voice on you like that,” Katsuki sighs. He leans his forehead against his Omega’s own, grinning madly at the surge of electricity that scatters away from the spot at which their skin meets. “’M really sorry, Deku. Did a lot of shit to you that I shouldn’t have.”

The freckled boy shakes his head adamantly, as if wilfully doing so will have a greater effect. “Though I do agree that we could’ve avoided all this skirting around if you’d just… just waited for me to say something,” he considers, “we were also really, really young. We were nine, Kacchan; I don’t expect anyone in your position would’ve really thought it through. What’s important is that you came back to me, you’re mine, and now we’re probably going to be stuck in here for at least a month when my heat kicks in, if what Yagi-san said about syncing heats and ruts was true.”

“Yagi-san?” his Kacchan—his new mate, Izuku’s inner Omega supplies—brings him in close to wrap his arms around his waist, shivering at the tiny detonations that follow his touch. “Who’s that?”

“Yagi Toshinori! You know, the guy who plays All Might from the show we used to watch together when we were little? Do you still watch it, Kacchan?”

Katsuki snorts, seemingly nonchalant, but Izuku can feel his slight envy at having not met his childhood idol the way Izuku has. “Of course I do, you nerd. How the fuck does he even know all that shit, and how the fuck did you meet him? Did he tell you about Fated Pairs, too?”

“Yeah, turns out he’s a True Omega like me!” the shorter boy burrows into Katsuki’s neck, humming with contentment. “He told me about what happened to you, too. Why was I never told that you were held hostage in our last year of middle school, huh?”

That’s what you care about?” the Alpha snorts. He noses at Izuku’s hair, and presses a soft kiss to his temple. “Shitty Deku, he must’ve told you how rich my family is. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Every time I told you in those fucking letters that I could buy the entire goddamned world for you, I wasn’t exactly shitting you. ‘S how I’ve been keeping tabs on you all these years.”

The Omega smiles.

He feels that it should be worrisome, when his mate’s admittedly stalkerish mannerisms are mentioned. From anyone else, certainly, it might’ve been concerning, but Katsuki has been special since the very beginning. They’re Fated. His scent alone is enough to send the Izuku’s sensitive nose into overdrive, his presence enough to have slick gathering at his thighs—like it’s doing, right now.

They’re still knotted in place, but that doesn’t stop Katsuki from thrusting shallowly against his prostate. “I can smell how horny you are, Omega,” he growls, a feral lilt to his tone. “You like that, huh? Like that I’ve been watching you, been jerking off to photos of you since I was old enough to realise how helpless I was over you. You like that I followed you around and left my scent on the gifts I kept leaving you.”

“Of course I do,” Izuku answers, unashamed at the proclamation. All he wants to do, all of a sudden, is for Katsuki to fuck his knot deeper into him—it must be his heat, starting to burgeon in time with the other boy’s still-sated rut. “My Alpha’s been wanting me, has intended to court me since I presented. There aren’t a lot of people who can say that, Kacchan.”

“Suppose not,” the True Alpha hums, licking a lazy stripe along the raw bite at his Omega’s scent gland. “We’re fucking special then, aren’t we, Deku? We’re Fated and True.”

By now, the cock in Izuku’s ass has shrunk enough for it to easily slip out, but he lets himself keep it in place. He doesn’t want to go back to the emptiness before Katsuki’s knot, wants to fuck the Alpha back into full hardness—and his mate knows this full well.

“I can feel my heat coming,” he informs, even though his True Alpha probably already knows from the scent of honeydew proliferating over evergreen meadows that seem to suffuse out of him in waves. “Want you to fuck me again, Kacchan. Want to be so full that I’ll definitely bear your pups.”

“Shit,” and the smell of blood on the asphalt steps of an exploding building intertwines with Izuku’s scent as Katsuki curses; his cock is already fully hard in the Omega’s ass, and all Izuku wants for him to do is to pull out and slam home. “You’re gonna drive me crazy, Deku, I just fucking know it.”

“And you’re stuck with me forever,” the other boy laughs, nuzzling his head against the fresh mating bite that mars his Kacchan’s neck. “Good luck.”

 


 

Katsuki fucks him once more on the bed, slow and hard to contrast the roughness of their first time. They spend most of it facing each other, gazing in fascination at every miniscule shift of expression; the ash-blonde Alpha takes his time in mapping out the freckles that dot Izuku’s skin, tracing a pattern down to his trimmed length.

“You taste like a full-course meal,” Katsuki tells him in between sucks. Izuku can feel the way the other boy’s inner Alpha preens, every time his hips jerk upwards with the involuntary need to satiate. “Your slick tastes like ambrosia, what the fuck?”

“Just fuck me already,” the Omega almost whines, thrusting his hips towards his mate’s weeping erection with the intention of enticing him. “Please, Kacchan, I want your knot.”

“Are you on birth control?” Katsuki asks, blunt and sudden.

Izuku shakes his head in vigorous motions, earnest and wanting his Alpha inside him so bad that tears are gathering at the corners of his emerald eyes. “No, never,” he answers. “W-Why? Is that bad, Alpha? Do you not want pups yet? I mean, it’d make sense, we are still in college, I’m sorry for assuming you’d want them this early—shit, we didn’t use a condom! Well, we can always just—”

“Quit your rambling, Deku, that’s not what I meant,” Katsuki soothes. Izuku remembers, idly, that he’s supposed to be the one in control; True Omegas are always the collected half of a synced rut-heat session, but he’s never been so all over the place as he is right now, at the implications of not being able to keep the pups they might have. “Just… wanted to prepare myself if you did, is all. And you’d fucking know that if you actually paid attention to the bond; I’d rather flay myself than give up any pups we have. Stupid Deku, always jumping to conclusions.”

“Oh,” the Omega blinks. Relief sinks into the furrow of his brows almost immediately as he lets himself feel it; his Kacchan’s desire to breed, to grow a family with him and love him and love him and love him is so intoxicating, all of a sudden. “We’d make the prettiest pups, you know.”

At that, the Alpha only huffs indignantly. “Fucking duh. They’re half you and half me—they’re gonna be legendary.”

Izuku is about to hum in affirmation, but is distracted by the unannounced push of a warm cock into his already swollen hole. He gives a breathy moan, clawing at Katsuki’s chest for leverage, and goads the other boy to angle himself in the direction of the tight bundle of nerves that never fail to send him keening.

He likes to think, later on, that it was during this round that he’d conceived.

 


 

A few days into their synced mating cycles, between calling up their respective departments at Yuuei, Izuku taking a leave off of work and the ever-present urge to fill up, to mate and to breed, they finally find the time to tell their parents the news over a three-way video chat.

Izuku is nervous—as is expected. Even when Katsuki pulls him into the crook of his neck, nudging his nose into the scabbing mating bite on his scent gland, the Omega still can’t manage to quell his pounding heartbeat. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that they’re about to talk to Katsuki’s parents; there is absolutely no way of knowing how they’ll react. What if they hate him? What if he gets pregnant with his Kacchan’s pups, and they won’t even accept their grandchildren? What if—

“You’re muttering again,” his Alpha tells him, gentle and gravelly and low. “They’ll fucking love you, Deku, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“Apparently not enough,” Izuku retorts. “I just—they’re your parents, you know?”

“Have you really forgotten that you’ve met them before?” Katsuki blinks at him as he manoeuvres his laptop’s screen so that it covers up the fact that neither of them has bothered to put on their pants. “And anyway, it was the old hag herself who forced me to write you that first letter, remember? You really do get irrational when you’re worried.”

“Oh, um, sorry…”

The ash-blonde boy sighs, shakes his head and plants an affectionate kiss to Izuku’s pliant lips. “No need to be, nerd,” he snorts. “It’s part of why I’m so in love with you.”

The True Omega’s stomach immediately warms at the sentiment, a helpless smile pulling at his lips. “Love you too,” he offers, snuggling further into his Alpha’s embrace.

The laptop screen lights up with a call notification, which Katsuki answers fearlessly. A new wave of anxiety washes over the comfort that’d settled within Izuku’s gut, tearing apart his complacency and urging him to place bruising fingers along the scratch-marked skin of his Kacchan’s back, who doesn’t even flinch at how it most definitely grates at raw flesh from their most recent round.

Such a strong Alpha, his inner Omega gushes, and he can’t help but agree. So capable, so solid, just ours.

“Katsuki!” is the first greeting of sound he hears from the red-eyed boy’s laptop speakers, tinny and muffled by distance. “You little shit, you finally did it!”

“Izuku?” comes another voice. This one, Izuku knows very well. “Are you okay? Is this—why, this is all so sudden—”

“I’m fine, mom, really,” the Omega assures and sees, for the first time since the start of the year, his mother’s worry-worn face through the laptop’s illumination. “I’m sorry, I—I know I told you I was only going to give him something to ride out his rut with, but I just… I couldn’t help it.”

“Oh my, Izuku-kun!” exclaims the first voice, which brings Izuku’s attention to the other image on the screen. A couple sits side by side on a couch, not dissimilar to Katsuki’s own, with features that are familiarly placed on his Alpha’s figure; on the man, the same untameable hair, and on the woman, the same unforgettable colouring.

His Kacchan’s parents.

“You’ve grown to be so handsome!” the woman is gushing, the rubies in her eyes not quite as molten as Katsuki’s, but close enough that Izuku finds himself blushing. “No wonder my son never forgot about you. Oh, would you look at those freckles, Masaru—he looks like an angel!”

At this, Katsuki grunts out a low, warning growl, his desire to possess, to keep and to hold and to hide away from prying eyes registering as a weak electrical current against the nape of Izuku’s neck, and the Omega doesn’t even think about it. He only brings his Alpha’s head to nuzzle against the back of his shoulder, intending to placate his misplaced jealousy, and chooses to ignore the delighted coo that comes out of his Alpha’s mother’s mouth at the action.

“T-Thank you, Mrs. Bakugou,” he gives a shallow bow, noticing the way the man next to her brightens at his display of politeness. “I… I hope I’ve made a good impression, and I—I’m sorry I forgot all about Kacchan all these years.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Midoriya-kun,” the man, whose head of hair is a brunette copy of his Alpha’s ash-blonde, hastens to reply. “He wasn’t thinking straight, our Katsuki. There’s no need to apologise for something out of your control. Rather, we’d like to extend our thanks for taking him back after that shoddy affair at the park all those years ago.”

“Wait, the park? What affair?” Midoriya Inko cuts in, her eyes widening both in prominent confusion and concern. “Izuku, what is going on?”

“It’s a long story,” the emerald-eyed boy rubs sheepishly at the back of his neck. “Kaccha—Katsuki and I have actually met before this year. He… We were childhood friends, and he was there when I presented as a True Omega.”

His mother’s ensuing exclamation resounds unpleasantly through the laptop speakers. “What? True Omega? There’s—Izuku, I’m so—”

The explanation that follows is a long and harrowing one, with several redactions made to ease the lingering tension that sits firm on his mother’s brows. His Alpha’s parents introduce themselves properly, both bowing with so much inherent respect that one might almost mistake them to be average, working-class citizens—and this, within itself, is enough to make Inko gape once more.

“B-Bakugou?” she repeats after Katsuki’s mother has made her identity known. “No wonder you seemed so familiar. I—I’m sorry for my rudeness!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” the ash-blonde Alpha, so reminiscent of Katsuki in the pale of her hair and the red of her eyes, waves off the other woman’s harried apologies with a flick of her wrist. “And call me Mitsuki, won’t you? If we’re going to be in-laws, we should endeavour to get along. We’ll be in your care!”

The rest of the call is a breeze, a far cry from Izuku’s expectations of mounting tensions and disapprovals through Katsuki’s laptop screen, and it’s—relieving. Gratifying. Bakugou Mitsuki and Bakugou Masaru are refreshing and down-to-earth, humble to their roots despite their enviable status as conglomerate owners, and they welcome Izuku into their family as if he’s been there all along, has been their son since he and his Kacchan had met eyes in the park at the ripe age of four.

And perhaps he has.

“I will admit that I had my doubts,” the Omega’s mother confesses. “When I first saw Katsuki-kun, I immediately thought he’d forced my son to be there and that’s… that’s wrong, I know, but I couldn’t help it. But I see now that you two—you seem quite taken with each other, and all I’ve ever wanted was for my Izuku to be happy. I still feel that it’s a bit too early to have bonded like that, but Fated Pairs are so rare, and Izuku has always been so sensitive to scents… He’s never truly taken interest in anybody else, before, so I will gladly grant my blessing. Will you take care of him properly for me, Katsuki-kun?”

“Yes,” his Fated Alpha declares, decisive and firm, before Inko can even finish her question. It’s all that Izuku has ever wanted. “I’d give him the whole world if he asked, Auntie. He’s… everything.”

Inko sniffles slightly at this, and though she tries her hardest not to let her tears show, Izuku knows her well enough to see the sheen of liquid she’s willing herself so adamantly to blink away.

“Thank you,” she warbles. “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that.”

 


 

It’s inevitable that Izuku should find that special room.

He’s still well into the insatiable hunger of his heat when he pushes into an innocuous door, expecting it to be, for a reason that escapes him later on, Katsuki’s bedroom. It’s suspiciously lit; the overhanging lights are a hazy orange, contrasting the rest of the apartment’s clear white brightness, that comes only from a tiny lamp shoved into a corner next to a few shelves. His vision, slightly unfocused from the promise of another round of sex after his Alpha finishes up in the shower, takes its time to adjust to the new dimness—and his breath hitches.

On every wall, in every bit of space, there are pictures of him.

Izuku on his first day of middle school, Izuku coming first in one of the events at his high school’s sports festival, Izuku walking out of his apartment, Izuku in one of his high school classes, Izuku in casual clothes, Izuku perusing an aisle at the convenience store near his mother’s house, Izuku, Izuku, Izuku.

There are four television screens attached to the farthest wall that show hidden camera footage, and upon closer inspection, he realises that they’re footage of his apartment. One camera is at a diagonal angle in his small kitchen, another is hanging over his desk, another is hidden behind the showerhead of his bathroom, and the last is placed directly in front of his bed.

“He had a perfect view,” Izuku realises, his train of thought going back to his intimate jerk-off session several days ago that he’d intended for his then-unknown admirer’s eyes alone. “And in the shower, too… Oh, Kacchan.”

The implications play through his mind like a broken highlight reel, toying at the underlying tingle of his lower abdomen so that it spikes up into a lasting heat—and he’s panting, he’s so pleased, his Alpha has a whole room dedicated to him, his Alpha loves him—

“Oi, Deku.”

The snarl is dark, dangerous. It comes from behind him, encompassing his entire being, pulling adrenaline from his chest and into his bones so that they’re set alight with the desire to be bred.

Izuku whimpers, and when he turns around to look behind him, the scent of saccharine honeydew fuses into the room around him in dizzying vehemence, and his eyes glimmer with the lustre of happy tears. “K-Kacchan,” he trembles out—and why does he feel like falling? “This is so, I’m so—oh my god.”

“Do you like it?” croons the gravelly baritone. There’s a manic sheen somewhere in those molten ruby eyes that draw him in so well, that take him so well, and dear god does Izuku want. “Don’t even dare fucking lie to me, Omega. I can smell your slick.”

“But I wasn’t going to,” the True Omega informs him. Nitroglycerin is quick to join the steadily-thickening fragrance in the air, twining so well with his honeydew that he can’t help but give a winning smile. “You’re so good to me, Alpha, did you know that? Loving me even before I remembered I was yours.”

Katsuki bares his teeth at him, the sharp canines serving as a reminder of the bite that scabs at his scent gland, and of the mark that will stay for the rest of his life.

“I know everything about you, Deku,” is his reply. “Know what makes you tick, what shitty hobbies you have, how badly you want my cock in you—I know it all. And you like that, don’t you? You like that I’ve got pictures of you all over these fucking walls, like thinking about all the times I’ve spent my rut watching you sleep through those screens, like that I’ve loved you without you knowing.”

“Yes, yes, yes I do,” the freckled boy nods, agrees with not a hint of hesitation whatsoever. “And now you’re mine. My Alpha, my mate, my Kacchan—fuck, I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” Katsuki whispers into his ear. He’s trapped by the sudden cage of the True Alpha’s arms on either side of him, backing him up into one of the walls; he can feel the faint itch of the photographs’ edges digging into his skin, and Izuku bathes in the impossibility of it all. That someone like this, someone who has everything and more in the vermillion of their gaze, could love him and cherish him and make him feel whole—that someone so miraculous could be his Fated Pair.

He’ll never, ever let him go.

“Need your knot, Kacchan,” he’s whispering back now, reaching down beneath the damp towel that drapes over the taller boy’s hips to stroke Katsuki’s twitching shaft. “Want you to fuck me so hard that I’ll feel it all year.”

“That so?” smirks the ash-blonde Alpha, his tone riddled with the growing violence of his rut. “Spread your legs for me, then, baby.”

Izuku hikes up one of his thighs, hooking it around his Alpha’s waist while tilting his neck for the other boy’s tongue to lave at the skin there. It’s so unbearably hot now, the itch in his lower abdomen is worsening by the second, and he needs Katsuki’s cock to be inside him right now so he tears apart the fabric of his boxers and flings its remains across the room.

“Shit, so strong, what an impatient Omega, so eager for me,” his mate praises him, words jumbling together into an almost indecipherable noise. Izuku moans aloud at the lascivious way his Kacchan’s large hands pull their cocks flush against each other. “Gonna let me fuck you hard, yeah? Gonna let me breed you full of my pups, ‘til you’re round and bursting and so fucking beautiful for me that I’ll wanna give you more, huh?”

“Yes, yes, want all your pups,” Izuku tells him, whines softly when he feels Katsuki’s cockhead tease at his entrance. “Come on, Alpha, just like that—oh, god, yeah, just like that.”

He doesn’t even need to be stretched out anymore. They’ve fucked so many times in the last three weeks that the True Omega’s hole remains loose enough for his True Alpha’s knot to slip right in, always sopping wet despite the number of times he’s tried to wash himself clean. Katsuki eases into him in that slow, practiced way, hissing at the tightness and the heat and the way Izuku’s inner walls just cling to his dick like they don’t want to let it go—and maybe they don’t.

The green-headed boy sighs at the sensation of fullness that envelopes him. “You’re always so big, Kacchan,” he mentions, pulling his mate’s head down to give him an adoring kiss. “I wish your knot would just stay in me forever.”

And that’s probably the right thing to say, because he can feel his other half’s clarity snap into nothingness through the current that binds them together, through the pinpricks of electricity and the ephemeral detonation of fireworks against the places where they connect. He can feel the twitch of Katsuki’s cock inside him, swelling impossibly bigger, so that when he rams his hips into Izuku’s ass, he can do nothing but arch his back and reply with a high-pitched whimper and a tighter grip on the True Alpha’s shoulders.

“You really are getting off of this,” his Kacchan awes in between his explosive thrusts, grunting in that rut-hazed way of his that drives Izuku absolutely insane. “Shit, we’re perfect, aren’t we? You fucking love that I stalk you, what a lovely Omega you are for me.”

“Only you,” the green-headed boy tells him, struggling to string together words from the voltaic euphoria that passes through his entire being every time Katsuki’s cock meets his prostate. “I’d break anyone else who even tried, Alpha. Knew you were special, knew you were someone important even before your name came back to me.”

“That’s fucking right, Deku. I am special, I’m your fucking mate,” the red-eyed menace growls something feral, and though his thrusts are getting erratic, he still manages to slam into that tight bundle of nerves every single time; Izuku is getting driven closer and closer to the edge and—fuck, he wants to come so bad. “Nobody else gets to have you. You’re with me until we fucking die.”

Izuku’s breaths are coming shorter and shallower by the second, and the lack of attention on his tiny Omega cock is notably itching at his inner thighs, but the moment he attempts to bring a hand down to jerk himself to completion is the moment his Alpha swats away his prying fingers.

“Come untouched, Deku. You can do that, right?” Katsuki goads, the gravel in his voice reverberating as nitroglycerin in Izuku’s nose. “You did it the first time for me, baby. When you gave me your bite, don’t you remember? You can do it, Omega, I fucking know you can.”

He’s sobbing now, but maybe he has been for a while. There’s nothing more frustrating than the rising tension of his blinding heat, gathering at his thighs and pumping static into his veins, and never has he ever felt so helpless to the strings of his lust that he might spill tears over the inability to spurt out more of his saccharine essence, yet here he is. It’s maddening, and so overwhelmingly good; his Kacchan knows which buttons to push, which angle to fuck him at, how tightly he wants to be held and how stimulated he wants to be, and he gives it to him so well that Izuku thinks he might black out.

“C-Coming,” he informs, voice a mewl and a tremor combined. “K-Kacc—Alpha, mate, baby—I’m coming, give me your knot, please, please, please give me your knot, your pups, baby please—”

“Yes, yes, yes, come for me, Deku,” Katsuki coerces, his breath fanning over Izuku’s neck in between all the kisses he places there. “So tight, your ass is perfect, fuck, shit, baby, gonna give you those pups you want soon, gonna knot you so hard—fucking hell, just like that, fuck yourself on me just like that, Deku, you’re so fucking beautiful, shit—”

And he doesn’t hear any more. The orgasm that washes over him is magnificent, rapturous in its intensity; his Fated Pair’s knot nestles just right against the tip of his womb, and it’s so fulfilling that he moans aloud in wanton satisfaction. Katsuki’s seed is hot, with the same lethality as the scent of blood on the asphalt steps of an exploding building that permeates off of his person, and it’s like a douse of everything that Izuku has ever desired.

“Love you, Kacchan,” he mumbles into his mate’s chest, feels a gentle press of lips against his sex-damp forehead and a chin nestling into his unkempt hair. “Love you so, so much.”

He can feel the True bond sing between them. “Love you too, shitty Deku,” Katsuki replies. Fondness and unwavering devotion lace his words together into a tight, pretty bow, and Izuku lets himself sink into his warmth. “You’re my everything.”

The True Omega’s chest blossoms into a garden of ardour and passion, and although his legs are quivering with fatigue, he can tell that the other boy is already falling half-asleep against his neck. “I know, baby. But come on, I know you hate waking up all sticky. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

His mate makes a weary noise of what appears to be affirmation and, still knotted to Izuku, lets the Omega carry the bulk of his weight on his back to the bedroom. They fall into each other’s arms after Izuku has reached over as best as he can to the tissues that rest at the bedside table, gently wiping at Katsuki’s come-splattered chest and any scratches that might have opened and bled at Izuku’s harsh grip on his back.

A kiss is placed on his Kacchan’s slightly opened mouth before Izuku lets sleep overtake him.

Chapter Text

The first thing Izuku does after their synced heat-rut cycle is take a pregnancy test.

The trip to the convenience store is an overbearing one. Katsuki leers over anybody that gets a little too close, lets blood on asphalt steps and nitroglycerin coat Izuku’s skin as if to declare to the entire world that he’s his, and the True Omega has to rub electricity into his knuckles to get him to calm down, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Katsuki’s scent is heavy without scent blockers, and it calms his nerves as they’re waiting for the cashier to scan their items through.

“Good luck,” the cashier offers as Katsuki takes out a card from his wallet, looking a little hesitant, to which Izuku gives a blinding smile. Beside him, his Alpha only growls in response.

Unsurprisingly, all four tests end up positive.

“This is such great news!” Inko exclaims over the phone, much to both Izuku and Katsuki’s surprise. They’d expected her to be completely horrified over the announcement, given her overzealous protectiveness over her son; Izuku is, after all, still in his first year of university. “I’m going to have grandchildren! I never thought I’d have grandchildren!”

“Why am I not surprised,” Mitsuki mutters when they make the call. A subtle sobbing noise is heard somewhere from the other end, which the green-headed boy worriedly assumes to be coming from her husband, Masaru. “Fucking idiot son. You’re still in college, you shitty brat, who’s gonna take care of your even shittier brats while you’re in school? You gonna hire a nanny?”

“Fuck no, what the fuck, old hag?” Izuku’s Alpha spits into the phone, looking so offended and red in the face that he almost looks like an anthropomorphic version of an exploding bomb. “I’m not gonna let some shady stranger touch my kid, who do you think I am?”

“We’ll work around it, Auntie,” the True Omega promises in that calming, gentle tone of his, places a cool hand atop the heat of his Kacchan’s palms. “I’m not due until sometime next year, so we can take classes at different times to make it easier looking after them.”

“We’ll have to start planning the wedding sometime soon,” Masaru pipes up, his voice still wobbly from crying. The silence that ensues from both ends of the call is almost dizzying in quality. “O-Oh, my apologies! I’m not getting too far ahead of myself, am I?”

Izuku takes a short second to pause. He can feel Katsuki pause beside him, too, shoulders tensing with nerves that spider through their bond as ours, ours, ours and no, definitely not

“What do you say, Deku?” is what his mate asks aloud. If he cranes his ears, he’ll hear the faint tremble in Katsuki’s consonants, the way his tone becomes uneven towards the end of his sentence. “Wanna marry me?”

He shouldn’t even have to ask. A vision of red follows Bakugou Katsuki like blood on the asphalt steps of an exploding building, imbuing the air with a string of implied carnage that fetters him back to the stagnating calm of Izuku’s evergreen meadows, and they’ve been bound together by the universe since they were but nine. Yet even if that fortuitous encounter at the park at four years old hadn’t been, he knows—Izuku knows—that it’d still be him after all this time.

“Yes,” he answers in a breathless daze. Victory clouds the nuances of their bond when Katsuki leans in for a kiss.

 


 

The media picks up on the news far too quickly for Izuku’s liking. A video of their reunion at the cafeteria goes viral for a few days, and it becomes touted by news outlets and netizens alike to be the epitome of young romance—and becomes even more renowned at the discovery of Katsuki being the heir to the Bakugou fortune, and of them being a Fated Pair.

It’s a fantastical drama brought to life. Nobody actually has the gall to confront him about it when they get back from their leave off of school, but he can feel the awed gawking searing into his skin every time he walks down the hallway. He can feel it even now as he rocks up to his shared lecture with Shouto, Katsuki’s fingers curling tight around his waist.

“You don’t have to follow me everywhere, you know,” he points out, even though he really, really doesn’t want to let go. “I can manage just fine on my own.”

“I know you can, but do I fucking want you to? No, shitty nerd,” Katsuki retorts, licks a playful strip along Izuku’s cheek that he blanches at with disgust. “My big, strong, True Omega. You’re pregnant, dumbass, what’ll happen if you trip over your shoelaces again and hit your head or your stomach, or some shit?”

“I’m smarter than that, Kacchan, and it happened once, in middle school. You wouldn’t even have known about it if you weren’t stalking me so religiously.”

“Heh, but you like it, kinky little shit. Don’t gotta lie.”

“…I do, I wasn’t even trying to deny it,” Izuku huffs, and the red staining his cheeks are a stark contrast against the constellations of his freckles. “And you need to go right now, Alpha, or you’ll be late for your lecture which—in case you forgot—is at the opposite side of the campus. Really. Promise I won’t trip on my shoelaces.”

At this, the molten rubies in Katsuki’s eyes come alight with confusion. “How the fuck do you even know that, Deku? You been snooping around my desk?”

“Your schedule is literally on the door of the fridge, I don’t know why you’re trying to act so slick,” is the Omega’s reply as he inspects his nails nonchalantly. “Now go. Don’t make me use my Voice on you, Kacchan.”

“Stupid Deku,” the True Alpha grumbles, but there is fondness trickling in through their bond even as he says the words. “I’ll be here when your lecture ends, yeah? And if you wanna talk, there’s that shitty recorder I pinned to your backpack—”

“Ah, so that’s how you’ve been listening in on my conversations—”

“—so just shoot me like, a ‘hi’ or some shit. Love you, nerd.”

Izuku sighs with exasperated adulation, leaning into the soft kiss that Katsuki plants on his lips ever so slightly. “Love you too, Kacchan,” he answers, waving the other boy goodbye before stepping into his own lecture hall.

His friends—the ones who he holds closest to his heart—take to the news of his bonding to some unknown Alpha in full stride. Shouto, in particular, raises a brow the first time he sees him after his heat, mismatched eyes latching onto the healing bite mark on Izuku’s scent gland.

“Bakugou Katsuki, huh?” he wonders aloud, almost appraisingly. Izuku can feel his palms sweat from the scrutiny. “You sure about that?”

“O-Of course I am!” the other Omega exclaims, his freckled cheeks warming considerably. “Do you know him, Todoroki-kun? I heard your families had some kind of… business deal, some time ago.”

“Yeah, there were talks of arranging my marriage to him when we were in high school, but you would know about that, right?” Even the thought of it seems to make Shouto wince with revulsion, and Izuku has to stop himself from giggling. “We hated it. He ended up introducing me to Inasa though, which I’m really quite grateful for. Even though he was really rude about it.”

The green-headed boy makes a sheepish noise. “Yeah, that’s my Kacchan,” he says. “Sorry if he hit too many nerves.”

“Don’t apologise for him, it was a really long time ago,” Shouto rolls his eyes, gives a lackadaisical shrug in Izuku’s direction. “Question is, are you sure about him, Midoriya-kun? Isn’t he the guy who you said was stalking you?”

“That was hypothetical,” the True Omega protests, “…but yes. To both questions. He’s really not that bad, you know, he’s actually really gentle and patient and he can be a little overprotective at times, but it’s nothing I’m not used to, and he does have a short fuse but he tries really, really hard not to get angry! I don’t understand why people think he’s such a bad person—like sure, he swears all the time and I’ve heard that his scent is unappealing to other people? Though I can’t for the life of me understand why—like, he’s so precious, and he wakes up really early in the morning to cook me breakfast but then he acts like it isn’t such a big deal, but it is. Did you know that he only learned how to cook because he saw me nearly burn my mom’s house down when I was trying to heat up instant ramen? It’s so sweet! Kacchan is so, so per—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Shouto blanches, reaching over to cover Izuku’s rapid-fire mouth with an extended palm. “I don’t want to hear any more. Please, I don’t think I could handle it.”

Ochako, on the other hand, takes to squealing at him the moment Izuku steps into Aizawa’s café after his month of leave, jumping around in that floaty way of hers as she squeezes both his hands.

“I saw on the news, Izuku-kun! Oh my god, congratulations!” she exclaims. Tenya comes out from behind the counter to wish him much of the same. “You never told me you knew Bakugou Katsuki, of all people. Goodness, where did you two even meet? I mean, he does go to Yuuei with the rest of us, but still. That video of you two in the cafeteria was so cute, it was like a scene from a movie!”

“A-Ah, um, we were childhood friends,” Izuku answers, eyeing his two co-workers with earnest gratitude. “And thank you! I’ll make sure both of you and Aizawa-san are invited to the wedding.”

“Wedding?” and it’s Tenya’s turn to yell in surprised delight. “There’s a wedding?”

Unfortunately, Izuku’s crowd of avid admirers are less partial to the announcement of his impending union with the Bakugou heir than Shouto, Ochako and Tenya are. He doesn’t even really tell them, per se; he figures that they’ve most probably heard from the news, because they crowd around the True Omega whenever Katsuki isn’t around to leer over him with thinly-veiled possessiveness, and take turns in voicing out their unwanted concerns into his weary ears.

“We’d never seen you around him before, Izuku-kun, you have to understand!” Himiko reasons one day, her lemon scent still as irritating to his nose as it had been on their first meeting.

“He looked very dangerous in that footage I saw, lashing out at anyone who got too near like that,” the Alpha smelling of pomegranate, Shigaraki Tomura, makes his contribution. “Are you sure you’re really safe with him, Midoriya-san?”

And for a time, Izuku tries to rein his inner Omega in. He never fails to defend his Kacchan against their barbed words, pesky little things that are meant to instil doubt and fear into a special corner of his heart that is instead brimming with love and devotion. The tolerance of double-edged comments and tricky insinuations usually comes naturally to him, has been a particular skill that he’s honed from years and years of being surrounded by the same gushing crowd with the same shallow intentions, but there’s something almost feral that bares its teeth in his lungs every time his mate is mentioned negatively, and there inevitably comes a point in time when he just—can’t. A tipping point, the straw that breaks the camel’s back, that tears open the dam of rage that fills precariously in his blood, and Izuku can only hold in so much of his anger.

“He forced you, didn’t he?” becomes that tipping point, uttered by one inconsequential Mineta Minoru, and Izuku wants to pound him into the floor. “I bet he mated you without your consent, so now you have to be with—”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence. The infuriating Beta is held down by the True Omega’s iron grip, his pathetic face digging hard into the stairs they’re standing on so that tiny stones pierce his skin open and smear blood on the asphalt of its steps. Electricity courses through his limbs in a subtle attempt at gathering in his fingertips, and within his mind is nothing but a constant rage that undoubtedly siphons through the bond with monstrous vitality.

“Enough,” Izuku snarls, fists clenching against Mineta’s visage. “Please never say anything like that in front of me ever again. Please never even exist anywhere near me. You know nothing about us—what makes you think you have the right?”

He smells his other half before he sees him, but Katsuki is bowling over bystanders to get to the site of Izuku’s composed fury before the Omega even has the time to blink; there’s a lava-hot grip that grounds him at his shoulder, and when Izuku looks up, he’s met with a sea of murderous rubies and the sweetly-burnt quality of nitroglycerin on his tongue.

“I was gone for a fucking second,” the True Alpha complains, but the answering trill that trickles in through their bond is soft, profound. “Deku, baby, the fuck happened here?”

“He was insulting you,” the freckled boy answers, succinct in the way his words are delivered. Emeralds shine through the sun’s heavy glare with dangerous clarity, as if in challenge to anybody who dares say otherwise. “They all were. They said you were untrustworthy, that you mated me without my consent. I couldn’t just—just stand there and hear them say it, not when I know how insecure you are about things like that.”

The ash-blonde Alpha sighs at this, closes his eyes in a haste to anchor himself to Izuku’s relentless defence. “Yeah, well. They aren’t fucking wrong, are they?” he replies, the gravel in his voice tinting with melancholy. “I did do that. Once upon a fucking time.”

“You didn’t, Kacchan. We’ve talked about this,” Izuku is frowning now. Lightning crackles at his fingertips in never-ending frustration, the noise loud enough to serve as a warning to the people standing nearby with the hopes of listening in, but he can’t bring himself to care enough about their reactions. “Literally the only issue I had with it was that we were in public. And well, that we were nine, of course, but less about us being nine and more about us being in public. You didn’t really want to claim me in public, did you?”

“Fucking no, of course not, don’t wanna share that shit with anyo—”

“Exactly,” the True Omega cuts in, self-assured and slow, as if he were talking to a small child. “If I had it my way, we could’ve been mated ten years ago, you jerk. But no, you had to make it so much harder for yourself. And for me. I’m disgusted, Kacchan.”

Katsuki allows himself a tiny huff of breath, pulling Izuku up from the vice-like grip he still has on Mineta’s face. He leans into the other boy’s neck in spite of the spectacle they must look like to the people around them, and finds solace in the mating bite that sits triumphantly at his Fated Omega’s scent gland.

“Fuck off, Deku,” he grumbles, low enough for just the two of them to hear. He’s smoothing out the creases on Izuku’s shirt with gentle hands, trailing down his fingers to rest at the curve of the freckled boy’s hips. “Ran out of my shitty lecture because I was so worried, and you’re here criticizing me. Why do you even bother hanging out with them in the first place, if they’re gonna give you stupid shit like this?”

“There wasn’t really any reason not to,” Izuku muses aloud, seeks comfort in the miniscule detonations that cascade at the places where Katsuki’s fingers meet his skin. “They’re pretty harmless, you know. I mean, okay, yeah—there were some Alphas who didn’t really understand I wasn’t interested, but you probably already know that. And you never once needed to intervene, no?”

“No,” his Kacchan answers. Pride rims his words into a beat of confidence running along their bond. “You always did just dandy on your own. My favourite was that one time you bashed that chick’s head into the garbage dump because she cornered you into some shady alley.”

The True Omega laughs, and it’s as if even the wind stops to listen for a moment. “I don’t even remember that. How’d you take it?”

“Fucking horribly. I nearly went into cardiac arrest,” Katsuki informs him, as a foreign shiver of reminiscent fear trickles into Izuku’s chest. He answers this with an amused smile. “You’re gonna give me so much anxiety over the next nine months, shitty nerd, I swear I’m gonna get grey hairs before the age of thirty.”

“Oh please, I can handle myself just fine,” Izuku retorts pointedly, purposefully louder and so full of challenging intent that Katsuki falls in love all over again. “I could even bash your head in if I wanted to. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll hold your hand instead.”

“You’re so cheesy,” the ash-blonde Alpha complains, half-hearted and playful, and the mirth in his eyes does things to Izuku’s heart. “That wasn’t even a good pick-up line. I’m really gonna fucking marry this? I’m really gonna let this shithead bear my children? Am I making a mistake?”

“Only mistake you’re gonna make is not holding my hand,” the freckled boy sasses back. He shoves his right palm into Katsuki’s own, revels at the way pinpricks of lightning merge their existences together, and gives him a wide grin. “Love you, Kacchan.”

“Love you too, Deku,” Katsuki sighs, exasperated and fond. “Now come on. If I’m going to be skipping the rest of that shitty lecture anyway, might as well get to your ultrasound appointment early. Hurry up, I wanna see my fucking kid.”

“Hey, we could be having kids. As in, like, plural. I actually think we’re going to have triplets.”

“Bullshit, how would you even know?”

“There’s this thing called a gut feeling, Kacchan. Pretty sure all expecting Omegas have it.”

“Now you’re just fucking with me. Don’t get my hopes up, shitty nerd.”

They ignore the gaping crowd for a couple more moments, so enraptured in each other that the scenery around them seems to coalesce into a motion blur of irrelevant noise, into a static backdrop of monotony that pales in comparison to the vivid gems in the other’s eyes. Izuku can feel Katsuki’s fingers clasp tighter around his own, pulling him from where that offending Beta still whimpers into the asphalt of the school steps, and he doesn’t dare let go.

As they walk away, hand in hand, it feels a bit like they’re taking on the whole world.

 


 

(They find out, later on, that Izuku is right; they are having triplets. Katsuki almost howls at the moon in joy.)