oh hello 4 am horny thoughts, we meet again

BKDK Yakuza A/B/O AU

thinking of this and mmmhhmhmh possessive/obsessive ex-childhood friends https://twitter.com/bear_coughing/status/1232821981394767874?s=20

So Izuku left town with his mom when he was young, MS age, a little after Katsuki presented as an Alpha.

Inko wasn't an idiot, but she /did/ incur some big fucking debts getting away secretly from the Bakugou family when her only pup presented as an Omega.

So years later, Izuku's daytime job is as a worker at this lovely second hand book store. He would've loved to be a librarian or researcher, but he never had the money to attend high school.

And now he's started another job bc someone heard him singing while he was cleaning.

It was a regular, a nice enough kind of guy, if a little... dangerous - they get a lot of mob customers and Izuku just smiles and rings them up like they /don't/ reek of suffering, alcohol, and gunpowder.

So now he's sitting on a stool in this dark, massive (to him) lounge, crooning out lyrics to a stupid love song.

Surprisingly, he's popular.

Izuku declines to think about why that is (he can't afford suppressants or blockers means his scent is /super/ strong).

He works mornings at the bookstore and nights at the lounge. He gets requests from the audience now, and tips.

Then his boss asks if he'll sing along to a live burlesque show.

In costume.

(by which they mean, please wear a corset & lingerie and sing to this crowd of alphas)

His boss promises him a higher wage for the night, as well as a stake in the tips received for the show, so what's a broke Omega to do?

Izuku vaguely regrets it when he realizes how... /interested/ the audience is, especially when he's singing a solo with no dancers on stage to

distract from the tiny, scantily-clad Omega whose body decides it's a great time to start pouring out that pre-heat scent.

Izuku makes it through the show fine, gets home safe. He doesn't have anyone to cover his bookstore shift though, so he thinks he'll just go & call out from

the bar the following night.

The bookstore shift is a fucking mess. He ends up having to taze a random customer who tries to back him into a corner, fangs bared.

One of his regulars, the mob ones, walks in and sees what's happened. Izuku has /never/ seen someone get beat the

fuck up so close before, but good /god/ does his regular lay out the damn law on Izuku's would be assailant.

He throws the guy in the alley and turns tired purple eyes on Izuku as he pulls out a cellphone and says he wants a 'cleaner'.

Not even ten minutes later, there's another worker there (he didn't even call them?) to relieve him, and his regular calls him a cab (and pays for it) and tells him to /stay home/.

Izuku doesn't really get why he's being treated so nice? But he does take the time off

and endure one of the craziest heats he's had in /years/.

For some reason, neither the bookstore nor the lounge have fired him when he shows up four days later. Izuku's honestly shocked at how politely they all talk to him & how they all seem to avoid looking directly at him.

He does another lounge show, and for some reason the club seems particularly... quiet? He knows there's customers present in some of the back private booths, can hear the bartenders shaking up drinks - but he can't smell or see anything.

The tips he gets are bigger than what he received after the burlesque show. His manager looks like they want to say something when they come see him in the changing rooms, but they must see something in the hall because they leave immediately without saying anything.

His purple eyed regular shows up at the bookstore again the next day, and there's a blond guy beside him with streaked bangs. The blond is friendly and introduces himself and his friend.

Kaminari and Shinsou. Shinsou shrugs and wanders through the stacks while Kaminari asks

Izuku all about himself. Kaminari's an Omega, and his face is so guileless - it's easy for Izuku to tell him whatever he wants.

Which is probably what really put the nail in his metaphorical coffin.

He sees a lot more of either Shinsou or Kaminari when he's at his bookstore shifts. They shrug and say they work nearby, but they never go into detail about it.

Izuku no longer smells anything from either of them when they come in to visit, but he stays quiet about that.

His next lounge shift starts out stressful.

There's new management. Apparently, the owner of the building was lapsing /way/ back on his payments, and literally ran out the backdoor when the collectors came calling.

Izuku's wearing a goddamn slip of a dress, barefoot in his change room when a fucking /massive/ Alpha knocks and walks into his room without so much as a 'how do you do'.

He's followed by another Alpha, thankfully more human sized, with red and white hair and a scarred face.

The large guy stays quiet and stands in the doorway, facing out to the hallway while the smaller Alpha holds out empty hands.

Izuku blinks and puts down his mascara. He kind of figured that the mob might have their hands in the lounge, but this is.. wow.

'Todoroki' and 'Inasa', as Todoroki introduces them both, aren't here to hurt him. He's told this while Todoroki gives him as much space as possible with Inasa glaring out into the hall, black suit jacket straining over wide shoulders.

Izuku sees the flash of a holster inside

Todoroki's jacket when the Alpha talks and lifts his hands to show Izuku he's unarmed.

'Unarmed', Izuku thinks, trying to control the rapid beating of his heart.

He isn't stopped when he gets up and grabs a dressing gown to wrap around himself.

"Your work won't be impacted, Midoriya. We're just here as ... security."

Izuku watches Inasa out of the corner of his eye, then flicks his gaze over Todoroki.

He doesn't know what the fuck is happening, but after Todoroki checks over his dressing room with some weird scanner

he's left alone to finish getting ready for his shift.

Todoroki and Inasa are standing on either side of the door when he opens it. They tail him to the stage, and Izuku can see them standing at stage left and right while he sets up his mic and does a sound test.

The lights dim a while later, like they always do when the club opens.

No one comes into the club however. No rowdy college students. No tired businessmen. No older women looking for a night out.

Just Izuku and the dark lounge, and the bartenders making drinks for /someone/.

He swallows his nerves and sings his favourite songs for the first hour or so.

He takes a break backstage and ignores Todoroki and Inasa standing just on the other sides of the curtains framing the stage, watching him.

When he comes back from his break he feels...warm. Izuku shrugs off the sensation and signs to the bartender for a vodka cranberry. Normally he doesn't drink much, but he's a little pissed off, actually.

Whoever took over the lounge is probably sitting out there staring at him,

while their two fucking goons who're just there as 'security' follow his every step.

Izuku's used to independence and autonomy, and this feels an awful lot like being manipulated and .. and he doesn't know what else.

It's like he's this person's personal singer, now.

He stands up from his stool and kneels to take the drink from the bartender, tipping his head back to swallow it down.

His next song is slower and much more intimate. Izuku pours his frustration into it, swaying behind the mic, eyes closed.

He thinks of his mother at first, a little hesitance in his voice.

𝒟𝒾𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒?

𝒟𝒾𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝒷𝑒𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒𝒹?

Izuku's frustration builds. Here he is: the good little Omega, doing whatever his new /owner/ wants. Part of him wants to throw the mic down and run, see if he gets away or if his 'security' will kill him.

He keeps singing, alcohol thrumming in his veins along with the stupid warmth, prickling his skin with nerves.

𝐹𝒶𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 & 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒..

The whole lounge feels warm. Izuku croons through the rest of the song, practically gasping for breath.

He barely manages to sit back on the stool before his knees give out.

He hears something from the back of the lounge. A rough, deep voice, but he can't make out what it says.

Todoroki appears at the edge of the stage and Izuku follows him. The man leads him offstage and down the stairs, through the blackness of the club.

Blearily, Izuku realizes he's heading toward the private booths, where that voice came from he heard on stage.

Todoroki stops at the bottom of the stairs leading to their most expensive private booth, stepping aside to let Izuku go past him.

He's careful to keep a distance from Izuku, and he wonders briefly at that as he grips the railing to head up to the booth.

The empty club fills with some kind of low, bass-driven music, breaking the silence. Izuku can barely see anything it's so damn dark in here.

His stupid dress and lingerie are thin and he's shivering with heat and cold, all at once.

The booth has a thigh height table in the middle of the little room & a curved couch lining the wall.

There's a tall Alpha in an all black suit leaning back against it, arms spread over the top of the couch. He's wearing leather gloves, a lit cigarette loosely held in one hand.

The man leans forward into the dim spotlight overhead to stub out his cigarette in the ashtray. He's definitely.. beautiful. would be one word for it.

Intimidating is another. A black gauge in one ear, tattoos creeping up the sides of his throat from beneath his shirt collar.

There's a series of scars dotting the Alpha's temple and dragging back into his hairline. The effect is intimidating, rather than attractive. Maybe if Izuku wasn't seeing the gun holster against his side through the open jacket - then he'd be more interested and less afraid.

The Alpha's head tips to one side, soft blond spikes shifting with the movement as he looks Izuku over.

"𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚."

Izuku can't muster the strength to resist the Command, but his temper burns as the Alpha tugs Izuku into his lap, leather tracing the curve of his hips.

He slaps his hands against the wall behind the Alpha's head and pushes himself back, glaring into narrow red eyes.

"Don't touch me," he snaps, stomach tensing at the fangs revealed when the Alpha's mouth parts in a bemused smile.

"Why not?" Izuku stiffens as the hands spread over his waist. They're ... big. Heat radiates through the material into Izuku's skin.

The Alpha leans closer, a thick forearm pulling Izuku closer to him.

"This is my club now."

Izuku's fangs grit together. Fuck politeness.

He shoves at the Alpha's shoulders, squirming to get free. It's pretty much useless, because he's just thrown onto his back on the couch, stockinged legs draped over this asshole's hips.

Izuku growls and lifts a hand to rake at the man's face.

"𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙢 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣."

Izuku goes limp on the couch. His heart pounds as the Alpha leans down over him; one hand strokes over Izuku's uncovered scent gland, sending a wave of heat through him.

"If you think I'm not gonna touch you after spending 10 fucking years finding you, you're dead wrong /Deku/."

Izuku’s mouth falls open as the Alpha’s face splits into a dark, possessive grin. He knows this Alpha. This smokey, heavy scent. The haughty expression covering the face that’s a few years older than him but somehow found time to torment him whenever he had the time.

Katsuki Bakugou stares down at him, the leather of his gloves creaking as he pins Izuku to the booth’s couch.

“Ka..Kacchan..”

Katsuki’s face twitches and the smile fade to a frightening glare.

“Where the /fuck/ did you run off to, huh, Deku?”

Katsuki seems to block out what little light there is, looming over Izuku.

He feels warmer than before. Skin prickling beneath the stupid sheer lace dress that’s only /just/ keeping him covered. He’s not felt so exposed by his lack of patches or collar in years.

“I- I didn’t…” Izuku mumbles, but the words feel like cloth dragging over his tongue, dry and heavy.

Katsuki leans back and strips the gloves from his hands, tossing them somewhere into the dark of the booth.

“Little /liar/. You certainly fucked off far enough I had to fucking track you down like /this/. Send my men to keep you from getting pulled into every dark alley you passed because you’re too fucking /thick/ to keep /this/-” his hand points accusingly at Izuku’s bared throat -

“protected.”

Katsuki’s hands push beneath Izuku’s dress, up around his waist. “Wai- Kacchan, what-“

“What the fuck do you think I came here for? You think I’d let someone else have you, after all this shit?”

Katsuki snapped, hands dragging back down and pulling Izuku’s lace panties with them.

Izuku clamps his knees together, forgetting Katsuki’s body keeping his legs apart. Katsuki pushes Izuku’s legs open and rips his panties away.

Izuku panics, a shrill cry escaping him at being so exposed.

“You put this on display and you had /no/ idea who was looking, what they might do to you,” Katsuki growls, fingers trailing up Izuku’s thighs.

Izuku flails and pushes at Katsuki’s hands, heart pounding at the increase of heat, the bloom of pheromones in the tense air.

“𝙇𝙖𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠. 𝙎𝙪𝙗𝙢𝙞𝙩.”

Katsuki’s Commands ring through Izuku’s head.

His teeth grind at the live flame of the hand stroking up through his thighs, a scarred thumb gathering slick and pressing briefly at the insistent swell of his clit.

“Don- nnnghh /god/ -“ Izuku’s head tips back, exposing the unmarked, unprotected length of his neck.

It shouldn’t be as shocking as it is when Katsuki’s fangs find their mark in his skin, but he lets out a panicked cry anyway. Katsuki’s mouth, red from claiming Izuku as /his/, cuts off his wail of surprise and pain, a kiss full of fangs pressing him down into the booth.

Katsuki’s hand presses between Izuku’s thighs, and then he’s flowering open around rough fingers, twitching and straining against the Command. His body aches as it opens with Katsuki’s touches, but the heat flushes up faster, more enthusiastically,

and any discomfort is wiped away with a rush of slick.

Katsuki’s rumble fills his mouth along with the taste of smoke, vodka, & /Alpha/. He pulls back & Izuku watches, dizzy & mortified as the fingers that were inside him gleam in the faint light before Katsuki licks them clean.

He pauses and his eyes narrow on Izuku, fangs flashing as he sucks slick from his fingers.

“Well well. So you /did/ keep this for me…”

Katsuki’s fingers thrust back inside him, curling and stroking his walls. He repeats the same process again and again,

fucking in and spreading Izuku’s cunt before pulling free & drinking down the slick that’s begun to coat the entirety of his hand & wrist.

Izuku writhes as frantic, begging croons fall from his lips.

Katsuki finds the other side of his throat and kisses it, then brutalizes that scent gland, too.

Every part of him is filled up with /Katsuki/. His cunt, his throat, his scent - Izuku whines and shakes, insides squeezing tight with the sudden orgasm roaring up in his senses.

A flood of wet heat escapes him, a burst of slick squirting out over Katsuki’s forearm. Katsuki’s growl is terrifying, and Izuku’s still throbbing and twitching when fingers are replaced by a thick, burning cock.

It’s not even like there’s a moment in between for him to breathe or process it. It’s just - one instant, fingers slipping wetly through his folds and the next, a cock deep inside him with hips grinding between his thighs, shoving him down into the booth.

It’s too-big and overwhelming, and Izuku’s body convulses and breaks through the Command, hands flying up to grip at the wide shoulders above him.

Izuku hisses, eyes squeezing shut at the stretch inside of him.

“𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮.”

Izuku doesn’t realize Katsuki’s pulling his face into his throat until strong Alpha scent flares in his face.

“𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚.”

His Omega doesn’t hesitate to latch onto the heady, inviting scent, face turning into Katsuki’s throat with a choked whine.

Katsuki’s throat rumbles as he speaks, his rough voice more unnerving than comforting.

“That’s it… Now - 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣.”

“Fu-“ Izuku’s curse dies off with the insistent push driving deeper, the swollen base of Katsuki’s cock slipping in with a sudden, shocking /pop/.

The dizzy heat coalesces in another, shivering, throbbing orgasm. This time it's more intense, deeper and /hotter/, especially with an Alpha inside him, flooding him with thick cum.

Katsuki isn’t wearing a condom.

And Izuku can’t afford birth control, has literally never been on a suppressant. The reality of it all crashes down around him.

Mated, fucked, knotted - there’s no way Katsuki hasn’t fully claimed Izuku’s body in every possible way.

The knot is big and his stomach feels taut and tender, insides cramping with the shift inside him.

He knows about this, technically. That some Omegas can /feel/ it, when their bodies open up to do what nature intended with the provided seed.

It’s another thing entirely to /feel/ his uterus cramp and soften, to /know/ without a doubt that the boy, the /Alpha/ who tormented him that he hasn’t seen in almost ten years - has just gotten him pregnant.

Izuku wails at the next orgasm rearing its head. He's caught on Katsuki’s knot and writhing at the fast, determined hand rubbing over his clit.

Katsuki’s eyes are barely red with the dilation of his pupils.

He’s caught in the flush of Izuku’s pheromones, fangs gleaming as he growls another demand of his new mate.

"𝘾𝙪𝙢 𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙩."

Izuku can't resist him. His insides aches with the weight inside him, body twisting in Katsuki's hands.

The lounge swims around him. There’s too much heat, too much /everything/.

Izuku’s head tips back, bitten throat pulling and burning with the stretch in his skin. His legs clamp around Katsuki’s waist, muscles jerking with every residual surge of pleasure from his orgasm.

Katsuki glares down at him, a strange, unfamiliar expression on his face as one of his hands drapes over Izuku’s belly.

He knows.

Of course he knows. He probably planned this entire thing. If there’s one thing Katsuki always excelled at, it was making sure Izuku stayed under his control, aware of the difference in their strengths and just how ‘useless’ Katsuki really found him.

Nothing’s changed.

Just the stakes, the circumstances. But the reality is the same - Katsuki decided he wanted something and that made it his, no matter who or what was hurt in the process.

Maybe he’ll actually make Izuku have his fucking kid, maybe he won’t. Clearly it’s not up to Izuku anymore.

The decade of freedom seems like the blink of an eye, swiftly passing by to remind him just how stupid he’d been to forget the reason he was so alone in the first place.

Izuku fades, body sinking into the sweat slicked surface of the booth.

His dreams feel like hands through his hair, lifting him against someone else, smoke filling his nose until it’s all he can taste, and he’s choking on it, struggling without any chance of getting away from the iron bands wrapped around him.

--

He wakes in a seriously comfortable bed. Like… he would never be able to afford this shit.

Izuku blinks and rolls to his side beneath layers of soft sheets. The room he’s in looks like some kind of bedroom,

just massive and sparsely decorated with enough expensive furnishings and art pieces that Izuku can gauge exactly where he is.

If the damn scent wasn’t already enough of a give away. Katsuki’s scent is everywhere here,

cw: confinement
--

and Izuku can’t decide whether to agree with his Omega’s urging and revel in it, or panic and fight the soporific effect in favour of getting away.

The getting away pipe dream fades fast when he pulls his legs in toward his stomach and his right ankle drags a goddamn /chain/ along with it.

For fuck’s sake.

Izuku lifts the heavy bedding and blinks at the padded cuff on his ankle, taking stock of himself at the same time. He’s wearing a large black t-shirt and nothing else. From the scent and the bleak skull adorning the front of it, it’s undoubtedly Katsuki’s.

His throat aches and Izuku brings a hand up to touch it, only to encounter a ring of hardened leather, clasped tight around his neck. There’s no mistaking it as anything but an Omega collar.

Izuku’s body protests his hunched over position and he sinks back into the pillows,

staring out the window at the city skyline. It could be anywhere in the world and he wouldn’t know. The view is other skyscrapers and a setting or rising sun in a pink and orange sky, impossible to identify.

Izuku’s got hardly any energy left to even attempt to look surprised when there’s a knock on the door and Kaminari’s slightly abashed grin pokes through.

“Hey partner. You up?”

Izuku restrains the urge to throw something at Kaminari. He’s fairly certain a pillow wouldn’t do much, and the bedside table’s too heavy for him to lift without getting out of the bed - which he’s restricted from doing by the goddamn /chain/ on his ankle.

“Fuck off.”

Izuku doesn’t get the chance to swear in public much. He’s only really outside of his apartment for work, and there’s not much call (or tolerance) for cussing out the people who get on his nerves. Now, however, he has no such restrictions.

Snarling his real feelings feels /damn/ satisfying.

Kaminari winces and rubs a hand at the back of his head. He’s wearing a thick Omega collar, just like Izuku, except there’s faint traces of dark purple thread weaving through his.

Izuku vaguely wonders what his looks like, but quashes the thought. He’s /not/ interested in the collar for anything except getting it /off/.

“Hah.. yeah. We didn’t think you’d be uh.. happy.”

Kaminari comes in despite Izuku’s glower and the uninviting, foul scent he’s flooding the room with. He doesn’t come closer than the chairs by the window as he faces Izuku.

“For what it’s worth, and it’s probably not worth much considering how pissed you are,

but I actually /do/ want to be your friend. Everything just happened in a.. shittier way than I intended.”

“You didn’t do anything you weren’t /ordered/ to, I’m sure,” Izuku growls, hands curling into his bedding. /The/ bedding. Nothing here is his, and it won’t ever be.

This isn’t his goddamn home.

Kaminari’s face twitches, but he doesn’t look away. “I was ordered to keep you safe. I /decided/ to treat you like a person instead of a mark.”

“Oh, /decided/. I’m so pleased to know that you /liked/ me while you helped organize my goddamn /abduction/. Thank you for clarifying.”

Throwing the bedside table’s starting to look good. Throwing /anything/ is starting to look good.

He’s tired of people seeing him as someone to protect, to treat like a doormat or a punching bag, whatever suited their mood the best.

“Do you know what he /did/ to me? I’m /pregnant/,” Izuku spits, satisfied by the tiny flinch Kaminari makes at the word.

“Does that even matter to you people? Or is that just another convenient side note that gives me even /less/ autonomy than what your fucking /boss/ did to me.”

Izuku stabs a hand toward his neck and the sore bites bookmarking the sides of his throat.

“He wasn’t-“

“Do /not/ explain for him. Just - fucking don’t. Okay? Can you not lie to me for like maybe twenty seconds?” Kaminari looks confused and Izuku’s temper flares even higher.

“As /if/ Katsuki Bakugou has anything to say or do to me beyond making /damn/ sure my life is just as hellish as he made it when I was a kid.”

Izuku jerks at the collar, hard enough to hurt, digging his fingers in the band, pulling til Kaminari makes an aborted step toward him,

his face nervous and tense.

“He did /this/ for a power trip. And here I am, beneath his foot, right where he wants. So congratulations, /Kami/, you got the job done. Good /fucking/ job.”

Kaminari actually looks hurt. Like he thought Izuku really /was/ his friend. The audacity sickens him. The shock on the other Omega’s face infuriates him. As /if/ he didn’t know Izuku would react in any way except fucking /poorly/ to this.

Did he really expect Izuku to be sunshine and rainbows and all customer service /smiles/ after what just happened to him?

“Go away, Kaminari. If you want to do me any favours, find me a fucking staircase I can throw myself down.”

Izuku’s anger bleeds out & he turns his back on the door, burrowing into the bedsheets & shivering at the sudden release of adrenaline.

There’s a sad sound from Kaminari that tugs at Izuku’s heart, but the door opens & closes again, the slide of a lock marked by a deep /click/.

Start https://twitter.com/bear_coughing/status/1237333274852130817?s=20

Izuku stares at the pillows and sheets draped around him while the sound of footsteps fades. There’s no murmur of voices, so either he really /is/ alone, or the soundproofing in this house - /wherever/ he is is damn good.

Izuku’s stomach rolls a bit and he wonders if he’s going to have to crawl around begging for food, or if there’s actually something of use in this room.

After another few minutes of just laying in quiet, sullen silence, Izuku rolls himself upright, grimacing at the wave of nausea that follows. There’s water bottles in a basket beneath the bedside table.

Izuku grabs one and cracks the seal, eyeing the contents critically before upending it into his mouth.

Hopefully this shit’s not drugged, but who can tell? If Katsuki really is Yakuza, he could probably get any kind of subtle drug to bend Izuku to his will.

CW: drug use, trafficking mention, organ harvesting, suicidal ideation, confinement (this section's uhh dark)
--

Maybe Katsuki’s not even going to keep him. Maybe he’s going to sell Izuku. For sex or body parts.

Or maybe Izuku’s just going to rot here alone in this room, starving to death and chained to a bed that probably costs more than he’d make in 3 years.

“It’s not that expensive.”

Izuku hisses and whips around, water sloshing onto the black t-shirt and part of the bed.

Katsuki’s there, leaning against the wall by the closed door. He’s wearing a partially open dress shirt and neatly fitted slacks, polished shoes and a watch that’s heavy and gleaming.

Izuku grumbles low in his throat as Katsuki scans the length of him, lingering on the collar at his throat.

“Haven’t seen Kaminari cry in a while.”

Izuku’s inner Omega flinches at that, but he steels himself against the urge to comfort. He /deserves/ his anger.

And so does Katsuki.

“And fuck /you/, too,” Izuku snarls, standing up and slamming the water bottle on the bedside table.

Katsuki’s face smooths out into an unreadable mask. Izuku’s fire is already burning, fuelled by the fucking /impassive/ gaze of his ma- his /captor/.

“So did you tell anyone you were kidnapping me, or was that just part of the buyout deal for the lounge? The bookstore? Do I even have an /apartment/ to go back to? Oh, wait -“ Izuku leans down and jerks the chain free of the sheets,

holding it up to the light, fangs bared in a manic grin. His eyes burn.

“I forgot, I’m just a dog, right? No,” he laughs, hand dropping to his side, bouncing with the weight of the chain, “I’m a /bitch/. Your bitch, I guess, now.

Congratulations. For as long as it /lasts/. This chain and these sheets are long enough for me to end /that/.”

Katsuki stalks forward, a dark expression on his face. “If I have to /suicide proof/ my den to keep you alive, I fucking /will/.”

“Stay away-“

“//Stop//.” Izuku freezes, the chain slipping out of his fingers to clank heavily onto the floor beside his feet.

Katsuki rounds the end of the bed toward him, towering over Izuku a second later. “Why are you so /determined/ to get yourself into trouble?”

Izuku growls at the hand lifting his chin, tracing the collar before tipping his head up and to the side.

Katsuki stares down at him, face unreadable once again.

“No. You do not have an apartment to return to. And do you know /why/?”

Izuku snarls, the only thing he can manage through the Command.

“Because the goddamn super was /organ trafficking/.”

Izuku’s stomach drops. The empty, nauseous feeling returns, tenfold.

“He cut up ten Betas and twice as many Omegas in the last few years, all for the meat in their guts. Good money, too,” Katsuki said coldly, staring into Izuku’s blurry eyes.

“The bookstore is fine. It’s mine. And the lounge, you already know.” Katsuki’s hand trails over Izuku’s cheek, following a hot, wet line down to his jaw.

“/Why/.”

Katsuki’s face is smooth again. Izuku hates it. He’d rather the snarls and smirks and scowls of the teenager he remembers. The easy insults that were digestible and /understandable/, if painful and long remembered.

“I told you. I’ve been tracing you for a long time. You were /supposed/ to -“ Katsuki cuts himself off with a ‘tsk’, the hand not wrapped around Izuku’s throat diving into the pocket of his slacks.

He pulls out his phone and flicks his gaze down to it, scanning the lit up screen. “Goddamn it.”

Izuku flinches at the /fury/ in those red eyes when they turn back to him.

“I have a /meeting/. We’ll talk more later,” Katsuki says, pulling away. His gaze trails over Izuku, lingering at the flat of his belly.

Izuku hugs himself as the Command fades, gripping the soft, scented fabric.

The scent’s on his throat and face now, too. He was so angry, so distracted, he didn’t even notice Katsuki putting a scent-mark on him.

The door opens and Izuku’s head jerks up at Katsuki’s growl.

“And I’m putting you on fucking suicide watch until I get back.”

The door slams and Izuku’s nerve leaves him with a hiccuping sob, crumpling down to the floor to put his head into the side of the bed. His belly still hurts, and now his head hurts even more, still swimming with the heavy, possessive Alpha scent wrapping around him.

There’s a knock at the door, and Izuku can’t even bring himself to lift his head to snarl out a denial to whoever it is. If it’s Kami, he really might start screaming again.

But it’s not, it’s a /tall/ red-haired Alpha with extravagantly spiked hair, the bottom half shaved to reveal black hair at the base of his head. He’s /smiling/, baring a mouth full of fangs that have Izuku shuddering, a wave of nausea making him heave & duck his head once again.

“Whoa, bud, you need a pail?” The Alpha comes in with little regard to Izuku’s state of undress, apparently not bothered by the /chain/ or the remaining Alpha scent from Katsuki.

“Up we go!” Izuku gags as the man gently lifts him with no visible effort up from the floor, scooping him up and setting him sitting upright on the bed.

“You stay there,” he says, as if Izuku has any choice in that matter. “I’m gonna get some ginger ale and a pail.” The Alpha pauses and sniffs the air. “And some snacks.”

Izuku stares after him as he trots out of the room, the door shutting neatly behind him.

Izuku sags into the headboard, swallowing heavily and reaching a hand up to trace the thick leather around his throat.

He wants it off.

He wants to go home.

He.. he doesn’t know what he wants.

/Home/ is home to an organ harvester.

From how Katsuki spoke, Izuku was clearly on the chopping block. He doesn’t know if that’s meant to be some kind of ‘I saved you’ situation, but he doesn’t feel grateful.

He doesn’t feel anything but hollowed out and just… tired.

He… he really did like Kami. He thought Shinsou might’ve liked him too, since he protected Izuku.

Knowing they were only nice to him because their /boss/ wanted him as a bedwarmer… it sends a spike right into the core of Izuku’s confidence,

awakening all the horrible, self-deprecating thoughts he’s carried for years, ever since the first person growled out the word ‘Deku’ and shoved him away from a group of playful, popular kids.

Izuku’s still sitting numbly when the Alpha comes back, carrying a pail with a big bottle of ginger ale in it in one hand, and a glass and a bag of food in the other.

He could’ve strangled himself in the time it took him to get back here, Izuku thinks, with a faint, detached sense of realization.

Even though he threatened it, he knows he can’t go through with it.

He might want to die, but… he.. he’s always…

He can’t think about it. It’s nothing yet. A cluster of cells he could punch out of himself if he tried hard enough.

Maybe he should.

Maybe once this Alpha takes ‘care’ of him and makes him feel ‘better’, Izuku can drag himself to the end of the chain into the bathroom and hurt himself as much as possible, if only to hurt Katsuki a fraction the Alpha’s hurt him.

~TBC, QRT to comment (please don't break the thread!)~