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They make an odd pair.

Alphas and omegas are notoriously immiscible by society's standards, after all. Insistent and domineering was a poor match for placid and pacifying. And yet here they are: alpha and omega, limbs tangled sloppily under a too-warm duvet.

"Deku," Bakugou slurs out as a hard shoulder knocks against his chin, "goddamnit, stop fidgeting, you fuck."

They're pressed close, Midoriya's back to Bakugou's chest, one of Bakugou;s corded arms slung nonchalantly across the other‘s body. Midoriya affectionally refers to it as the 'alpha hold': the position allows for Bakugou to prop his chin on Midoriya's shoulder and shamelessly indulge in his scent.

Bakugou denies this as a valid explaination. Midoriya remains unconvinced.    

"Mmm," comes the eloquent reply, and Bakugou approximates an eyeroll. "Plus five ultra minutes."

Chagrined, the alpha tightens his arm around Deku’s warm body, gears spinning slow. "Five fucking minutes," he repeats, his tone hard as flint. There's a lull before Midoriya laughs, warm and somnolent.   

"You're being good today." 

There's a teasing, suggestive edge to his tone that immediately chases the sleepiness out of Bakugou's bones. He's rigid with tension, but Midoriya doesn't so much as flinch.

"Kacchan," he sighs dreamily, already half-asleep again, and Bakugou abruptly snatches his arm back before rolling off the bed. He's barely awake, and yet he's already feverishly warm from sleep-praise.

He's not fond of what that says about himself. 

Midoriya grumbles, dissatisfied with the loss of solid warmth, and opts to quickly swath himself in the freed covers. The alpha tears his eyes away after a few moments, needlessly flustered. Bakugou really doesn't find it endearing. Not in the least.

He spends a while in the bathroom, aggressively brushing his teeth as he doesn't think about Midoriya's peaceful sleeping face. Doesn't think about those lips, slightly quirked and a touch pink. Bakugou swallows. Even after all this time, the undeniable want that burns bright in his chest still catches him off guard.

He wants to come back to bed and kiss that fucking nerd all over his damn face. 

Instead, he goes to make breakfast, choking back a wave of unbidden sentimentality with a litany of swears.

  


 

 

"Deku," Bakugou says, brusque. He leans on the doorway frame, his black tank top snug on his chiseled frame. The smell of a continental breakfast wafts into the room, stirring the entity nesting under the sheets. "Breakfast, you lazy fuck. Up."

There's a rustle of the covers before Midoriya obliges, slow and steady. He tilts his head up to really look at Bakugou, his lips pressed together in contemplation. Bakugou falters at the hooded, lingering gaze that sweeps him up and down.

"Morning."  

Bakugou is certain there's an alpha-centric explanation for how he feels in that moment.

There has to be a simple rationale for why heat pools low in his stomach whenever Midoriya looks at him like this. When his brow wrinkles slightly, casting an intensity over those stupidly big, vibrant eyes that sends shivers down his spine.

"Kacchan," he says, as if tasting the nickname on his tongue. Bakugou swallows thickly, his own brow furrowed with frustration. "Come here."

There's a tiny, insistent voice that screams that this is wrong. That Bakugou needs to take control like any self-respecting alpha would, to grip Midoriya's wrists tight, to pin them above his head as he licks and sucks lurid hickies down the expanse of his indecently exposed neck. To mark his scent glands all over, claiming Midoriya as his and only his —

Instead, he approaches Midoriya with a decidely defiant gait, his expression surly. "Don't tell me what to do," he snaps. He's pliant as Midoriya hooks his fingers through his belt loops, pulling him down to the bed.

"Okay," Midoriya complies, a knowing smile on his face. They're lying on their sides, facing each other, a scarred thumb carefully tracing the contours of Bakugou's sullen expression.

His hand trails slowly down Bakugou's chest: idly teasing at a nipple, carefully caressing hard abdominal muscles, stroking the expanse of Bakugou's stomach. The contact is rather innoccous, but Midoriya's gaze is anything but: dark green and libidinous. The unwavering attention, coupled with soft, worshipful touches, elicits full-body shudders from Bakugou, even before those fingers lightly squeeze his erection through too-tight briefs.

"Are you rutting?" Midoriya asks quietly, transfixed by his partner's almost immediate arousal. Bakugou snarls on cue, his face flushing pink. "You're pretty hard already."

"You know I'm not." He's bitting his lip, his brow wrinkled with pique. With a soft laugh, Midoriya leans forward and gives the alpha a quick peck on the lips.

"Irregularities happen. But I'm flattered."

"If you don't shut the fuck up Deku, I'll make you."

"Really?" 

"Are you doubting me, fuckface?"

With an abrupt and almost violent motion, Bakugou sits up on the bed and grabs Midoriya's legs. The omega squeaks inadvertently as his sweats are pulled down with a rough yank, leaving him clad in his t-shirt and All Might boxers. Bakugou snorts, carnal intent momentarily forgotten.

"Holy fuck. You're such a goddamn child."

Midoriya sniffs with mock-offense, defensively closing his legs. "Stop pretending you don't have just as much All Might merch, Kacchan."

Bakugou insistently drags Midoriya's legs apart, his attention squarely on his partner's crotch. He looks akin to a cat eying a sumptuous fish, a burning in his gaze.

"Whatever. Off." 

All smiles, Midoriya obliges.

Bakugou's mouth is filthy. Obscene. It's more endearing than off-putting. He finds that Bakugou's mouth is especially endearing when he puts it to better use. 

"Kacchan."

The alpha is nestled between Midoriya's built thighs, his hot hands clutching the omega's hips with a practiced amount of roughness. He’s focused on Midoriya's expression even as he shamelessly tongues the underside of the omega's erection, taking him deep into his mouth before popping off wetly. There's a trail of drool and precum at the corner of Bakugou's lips, and Midoriya is dizzy with arousal.

"Deku." It's equally breathless, his breath hot on Midoriya's crotch. And then Midoriya's cock is enveloped in that too-hot cavern again, the pressure insistent and adorably eager.

Midoriya is panting, his fingers pulling weakly at Bakugou's locks. His vibrant green eyes are shiny, in that worked-up way that Bakugou finds maddening. He's always weak to this — omegas are hypersensitive in all the right ways. By now, he knows all of Midoriya's little kinks by heart: how he likes when Kacchan peppers his glans with hot kisses, or how he keens when Bakugou abruptly presses possessive, bruising bites into his inner thighs.  

He's definitely not thinking about how nice, how right it feels to be at Midoriya's mercy, to be good for him. He's so caught up in not thinking about it that his intensity unconsciously increases — to Midoriya's compounding delight and dismay.

"I can't, hhh — god, Kacchan, slow down — "

Bakugou's brows only furrow further, his bruising grip on Izuku's hips tightening, but he obligingly pops his wet, warm mouth off of Midoriya's cock. Midoriya is panting, pleasure and misery in equal part muddling his expression, and Bakugou drops a chaste kiss on his hipbone. 

"Shut up," he grumbles, rubbing circles into Izuku's side with the rough pad of his thumb. "You're such a baby."

Midoriya's eyes slow begin to focus as he's allowed to back away from the edge. He props himself up on his forearms, staring at the crown of Bakugou's explosive locks. "You tease," he insists, still breathless. "You're always so mean."

Bakugou's gaze flits up to meet his, and — oh. Midoriya knows that look.

"Mean," he repeats, and Midoriya stiffens in a way that he could only describe as Pavlovian. Bakugou's tone is undeniably testy, but he's still rubbing soft, sentimental circles around Midoriya's protruding hip bones. "I didn't know giving out fucking blowjobs was an act of sexual terrorism."

Midoriya does his best to pretend like that sentence doesn't make his cock twitch. "That's not what I meant." His voice is fond and soft.

Bakugou makes an incredulous noise, his eyes flitting impatiently from Midoriya's flushed face to his equally flushed dick. He noses the subtle softness of Midoriya's inner thigh before he speaks again. His scent gland there is erotically swollen, its smell nothing short of utterly salacious. "You're the nerd," Bakugou says, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. "Explain."

"Fair's fair, Kacchan." His tone suddenly has an undercurrent of danger to it, even as he deftly cards his fingers through Bakugou's hair. "I wanna be mean, too."

The alpha jolts from his comfortably lewd position, eyes narrowed as he meets Midoriya's cool gaze. "What?"

"I'll show you, if you c'mere."

"I'm not your damn dog," he grumbles, even as he obliges. 

 


 

 

The alpha has seldom felt so easy, his back pressed to Midoriya's bare front. It isn't long until Bakugou is hissing back drool, his eyes almost insistently focused even as his face contorts with arousal. One of Midoriya's scarred hands languidly trail up and down Bakugou's naked stomach while the other slowly and expertly jerks his dick. He bites back a deep moan as Midoriya's thumbs at his slit, just the way he likes, the sound aborting as a short gasp in his throat.

"That's no good," Midoriya says, his voice deep and sensual by Bakugou's ear. "I wanna hear you, Kacchan."

"Fuck off," he bites back, but it comes out as a broken groan. 

"I know you like this, Kacchan," Midoriya insists lowly. "You're handsome like this too, you know. Unraveling in my hands."

He hardly sounds winded. This fucker. "Shut up," he tries to say, but Midoriya gives an especially obscene pump and it's all he can do to not whimper.

"I like your face when you get primal, Kacchan," Midoriya murmurs, as if confessing a grave sin. "But your greedy face is just as hot."

"Who's being greedy — nnn!"

"Don't be impatient." Midoriya strokes him, slow and torturous, and Bakugou wants to come right fucking now. He's not greedy, he just wants Midoriya to stop fucking teasing him. 

"I know you're so good, Kacchan." Bakugou is mortified by the needy sound that hiccups out of his body in response to the praise. This fucker —

"Why don't you be a good alpha for me?"

Bakugou stiffens, his whole body frozen under burning, caressing digits. He gives a full-body growl that reverberates between them: an unconscious response to the subtle challenge of those words.

Midoriya is utterly unperturbed by this — in fact, he only looks more satisfied. Bakugou is chagrined. What a lousy alpha he's turned out to be. 

"Mmm, Kacchan," Midoriya rumbles, and Bakugou is canting into that soft, teasing hand, "you're so wet already." He thumbs at the leaking head of Bakugou's erection again, and the alpha can feel him smiling into his shoulder. 

"Who's the fucking t-tease?" Bakugou manages to gasp out, as Midoriya's hand goes back to languidly pumping his heavy cock. "Fuck, Deku — "

The alpha is yielding as Midoriya flips him over on his back, their eyes locking. "Kiss me," Bakugou demands. It's petulant, but Midoriya complies, leaning in to press their lips together. 

While Bakugou is usually all stereotypical alphaic passion and fierceness, Midoriya carries that same fire in his careful, methodical worship. It's maddening how floaty Bakugou feels, his cock heavy as he's quietly praised through a haze of want. He insistently chases the feel of Midoriya's soft, supple lips that intermittently press against his own, all frustratingly chaste.

Their scents are thick: Midoriya's sweet summer is a mouthwatering contrast to Bakugou's smoked pine. It's perfect torture, being dangled on the precipice between fulfillment and frustration. Bakugou wants to come, but he also knows exactly what he has to give — and he's not there yet, mind still stubborn even as his body attempts mutiny. 

"Deku," he tries, his voice wavering more than he likes, "Deku, ah, f-fuck — "

"Kacchan," Midoriya replies, his voice as steady as ever to an untrained ear. Bakugou, however, can hear the touch of mirroring arousal — and can smell it even better. "Do you need something?"

Bakugou makes a low, animalistic growl in his throat. "You — " he begins, before an expert squeeze at the base has his growl break off into a degrading whine. He's leaking precum like a broken faucet, milky beads rolling down Midoriya's fist. "Fuck."

"Beg," Midoriya whispers, so low that Bakugou is only half-sure he says it at all. 

"Deku," he moans, waxing wanton in the tatters of his patience. He's rutting shamelessly against nothing, his eyes glassy as his nails bite into Midoriya's back. "Please — nngh, ah, fuck — please." 

Midoriya is quiet, eyes greedily drinking in his handiwork. After a moment, he presses a kiss at the juncture of Bakugou's neck and shoulder. "Since you begged so nicely," he agrees, procuring a bottle of lube — from where, who knows — and squeezing a generous glob onto his scarred fingers.

"Damn it, Deku!" Bakugou snaps, but his expression is raw need. 

When a finger presses into him, almost explorative in its hesitancy, Bakugou openly moans, fisting the sheets beneath him. "Hhh, holy fuck — "

"Is it okay?" 

Midoriya is looking at him intently, concern momentarily chasing away the teasing edge.

"Fuck! Yes, yes," he's all but begging, his hips following those stilled fingers. "Goddamnit, Deku, please."

Midoriya adds another finger at some point, and then another. Bakugou is gone, lost in pleasure. The satisfaction of fullness chases away any initial discomfort, leaving Bakugou meeting the steady pace of Midoriya's fingers with broken moans and empty threats.

God, he constantly lectures Deku on always making way too much fucking noise, but here he was, moaning and panting like a bitch. It wasn't his fault that Deku's stupid, ravaging fingers felt this fucking good inside of him, felt so full and perfect —

"I'm glad," Midoriya replies, blushing, and Bakugou realizes he's been babbling aloud.

Fuck.

"Deku, you goddamn tease," Bakugou snarls, wrapping his arms around Midoriya's neck in a vicegrip and dragging him down. "Just — hhh, fuck — do it, already!"

"Do what?"

This fucker. 

"Fuck me," Bakugou grinds out, his will thoroughly broken. He's so horny that he's actually angry, his eyes searing a hole into Midoriya's shoulder. "Right now, or I swear to god — " 

"Okay, okay," Midoriya laughs, unfazed by Bakugou's furious gaze. He pulls out his fingers with a lewd, slick sound before adjusting himself above Bakugou.  "Relax, alright?" 

Bakugou opens his mouth to deliver some scathing barb, but Midoriya enters him right then and he is gone. The world is far away, his only tether the satiating, warm pleasure of Deku, inside him and surrounding him. Crybaby, Symbol of Hope Deku — the only one who could satisfy him.

"Deku, Deku," he pants arrhythmically in between thrusts, his nails claws in Midoriya back, "s'good, more, right there — "

"Kacchan." Finally, he has the dencency to sound just as fucked-out as Bakugou feels. "You're so good, you've been so perfect for me. Love you."

Bakugou's heart is glass in his mouth, his eyes wide, before he tangles a hand in Midoriya's hair. He drags the omega down until he's nosing the alpha's broad shoulder, so that Midoriya can't see the technicolor of emotions that flits across his face. Too complicated to give voice to.

Bakugou does, too. He does in a way that no one should tolerate, but Midoriya accepts regardless. In a way that's rough at the edges and hot at the center, tenacious and unrelenting.

"Yeah?" he says, his voice rough and quiet, and he knows Midoriya understands.

"Yeah."

 


 

 

Bakugou glares pointedly at a spot on the ceiling.

"Kacchan?"

Midoriya's voice is coaxing — as soft and subtle as his scent, with a bitter edge of concern. He can see those green eyes out of his peripheral, searching his face furitively.

"Go eat," Bakugou snaps, turning his back on Midoriya. Bad idea. Midoriya begins idly lavishing kisses across his back.

"Are you deaf?" he snarls, but makes no real move to halt the affectionate ministrations.

"No," comes the easy answer. Another kiss, right between his shoulder blades. "And I'm not blind, either."

Bakugou has to laugh, dry and ugly. "Goddamn. I really am a shitty alpha."

Midoriya pauses. Bakugou can taste his shock. "What?"

"I shouldn't — this shit isn't — " he breaks each off his sentences with a deep noise of frustration, tears of anger worrying the corners of his eyes. "This is wrong."

"Why?" There's a touch of what might be offense in Midoriya's tone, and Bakugou grinds his teeth.

"Fucking hell, Deku. I'm an alpha, for fuck's sake! What the hell am I doing?" It bursts out of him with a snap, too loud, his heartbeat a thundering staccato.

The ensuing silence is deafening, Bakugou's regret almost palpable. Why the fuck had he said anything? The sex was dreamy, satiating — so why was he so hung on his supposed role? It shouldn't matter, but it did, somehow, and now Deku would realize what a huge fucking mistake this whole arrangement was and, and —

"So is there something wrong with me then, too?"

"What?" The tension between Bakugou's shoulders dissapates as his jaw goes slack. He whips his head to make eye contact with Midoriya, indignant. "What the fuck? I never — "

"Sometimes I want to lead. I like the sounds you make, the way you look. Doesn't that make me a bad omega?"

Bakugou growls, his face bright with embarrassment. "That's different."

"Is it really?" 

The alpha falls silent, his ire and shame rolling off of him in waves. They simply stare at each other, locked in an impasse.

"Kacchan." Midoriya's voice is silken in its pacification, and Bakugou is weak. "It feels good, yeah?"

"Mmm," he replies, deep in his throat, humming as Midoriya touches his stomach. Calloused fingers tease at his happy trail with a soft reverence, and Bakugou can't help but croon quietly. 

"Then that's all that matters."

Bakugou snorts derisively, breaking eye contact, but his scent clears as he goes almost boneless in Midoriya's embrace.

"S'easy for you to say," Bakugou grumbles, turning in the omega's arms. Gingerly, he leans forward to give the scent gland on Midoriya's neck a wet, sloppy kiss, grazing it with his teeth before he pulls back. Bakugou's eyes are twin flames in the darkness, fierce and full of him. "You've always been a fucking anomaly."

"Mm. Maybe that's okay, too." 

There's a pause, before Bakugou speaks again, gruff and fond.

"Go eat your fucking breakfast."