Chapter Text
Izuku is staring dumbfoundedly at the box cradled in his arms. This isn’t quite what he expects first thing on a Sunday morning, cornered right outside his door with a mysterious package dumped at him.
“This is… for me?”
Three beaming faces give him vigorous nods.
“Yes! Come on, open it!” Eijirou prompts with a wide grin, practically radiating impatience. His companions, Denki and Mina, are in a similar excitable state of soda cans about to burst.
Chewing the inside of his mouth, Izuku says, “But it’s your birthday today, shouldn’t you be the one receiving gifts?”
They have already covered the element of surprise by banging at Eijirou’s door rapidly last midnight and letting off several birthday poppers when his sleepy face peers out the door, so Izuku figures there’s no harm in hinting that there are also birthday gifts to be expected.
“I actually bought this for you to celebrate my birthday!”
“We helped him pick it!” Denki pipes in proudly.
“Come on, Izu! We promise it doesn’t bite,” Snickering, Mina gives him a secretive wink.
Still confused, Izuku shrugs and goes to tear off the flimsy seal tape. He takes the content out, putting the box down carefully to free both hands to hold it open properly. Once his brain registers exactly what he’s holding, the omega’s face burns beet red in an instant. “This…!” He stares bewilderedly at the beta. “Eiji-kun!”
Eijirou merely beams brighter, giving off the impression of a goofy innocent child.
“Come on Izuku, pretty please?” Mina bats off her eyelashes, her not-so-secret tactical weapon boasting an almost zero failure rate. She does have pretty eyelashes. “You’ll be the hottest chick that ever struts U.A. unholy grounds!”
Her statement confirms the gnawing suspicion Izuku has after being made aware just what accursed item is lying inside the box.
“Ho-hottest isn’t exactly a word I’d like to associate myself with…” Izuku trails off, trying to come up with a decent response to avoid the imminent scenario his devious packmates are leading him towards. Yet his mind halts to a stop once his nervous gaze finds its way back to the birthday beta.
Eijirou is wearing the most pitiful expression ever seen on his normally macho demeanour, all pouty lips and teary eyes. “So… it’s a no?”
Ugh those eyes. It’s as if Izuku has kicked a little puppy and crushed all of its dreams.
The omega sighs defeatedly.
“Oooh!!”
Izuku resists the urge to One for All his way away to the moons, never to be seen again. Isn’t the deal made between the four of them, how come his entire pack is here!
After the initial excitement, a reverent hush then falls over the pack as if a deity is imparting their holy words. Or a sinful demon. And what a bewitching sight it is befitting of their awe.
Izuku is clothed in a sleeveless loose turtleneck made of lavender knitted fabric that reaches just past his crotch. Calling it ‘sleeveless’ is actually a bit of an understatement.
In the front part, the soft fabric only flares a teensy bit wider below his neck that the omega’s rosy nipples can be seen peeking out the sides. Add that the bottom is so short that even as Izuku keeps pulling the edge down it still barely covers his ass. Revealing the whole length of his toned thighs to his hungry spectators.
However the debatably best part is the back. Holy heavens. Past the turtleneck there’s nothing, only the lean mouthwatering expanse of Izuku’s naked back that narrows down into a plunging backline of lavender fabric sitting atop the omega’s plump ass.
The silence is broken by the sudden onslaught of whoots and wolf whistles as Izuku fidgets like a fried upright worm under all the heated gazes.
“That’s seriously not good for my heart.” Mashirao is clutching the spot above his heart, slightly wheezing.
Mina seems dead set on her fashion walk agenda. “Strut strut strut! Shake that sexy ass!”
Shouto’s eyes are shining as he whispers reverently, “Nipples…”
“Deku!!! You fucker, you think I’m afraid of you?! Come at me you damn nerd!”
“That waist is going to be the death of me, I swear.”
“For me it’s those thighs. I’ve always dreamt of getting my head crushed in between them like a watermelon. What I wouldn’t give to experience it just once, just once…” Denki sighs dreamily.
“What in the fucking fuck is Izuku wearing?” Kyouka is blushing so hard that her mouth filters completely fail.
Putting aside the borderline pornographic appearance, Izuku’s lean, muscular frame is also expertly encircled in red gift ribbons that come to a crimson bowtie on the area above his heart. Is this scandalous display seriously supposed to be Eijirou’s birthday gift? Kyouka doesn’t know whether to hug the goofy beta or wrangle his neck.
“I believe it is what the residents of the dark corners of the internet may refer to as the legendary Virgin Killer Sweater.” Fumikage nods sagely. The area around them is dimming as if a veil of darkness is draped over every object, sucking its light away. “With just one appearance, it is rumoured to be able to topple an army of the toughest men and women.” His recitation gives a sharper and clearer picture of a not-so-real historical account in a story book, of vast tracts of lifeless ground covered in heaps of bloodied corpses as far as the eye can see.
The air tastes like death and ruin.
A group of knights is lumbering through the desolate landscape, their heavy armour making a quiet clicking sound with each wary step. Their proud existence is what the hopeful citizens hailed as heroes, destined to strike down evil once and for all.
“The demon king is just up on this hill,” says one of them.
Their journey continues upwards until the peak of the hill that crests across a blood-red sky appears. Something that prickles the hair at the back of their necks is nearby, something that is unquestionably more powerful than any foe they have faced.
In between the rocky protrusions, a pair of glowing acidic orbs are seen, blanketed by pitless dark shadows that seem keen on sucking their souls out. Watching.
“Heroes, are you looking for me?” A sultry male voice echoes like a distant bell, causing every hero to shiver. “For daring to approach this demon king, you must be prepared for the consequences?”
Then a dainty ankle steps out of the shadows, followed slowly by the remainder of its body.
Their eyes go wider and wider with every inch of skin exposed. The demon king is surprisingly human-like, minus twin devil horns sitting atop luscious emerald curls. And it’s precisely its human body that will be their undoing.
It smirks.
Pure evil is wafting, mixing with a seductive scent that captures them in a trance.
Uncharacteristically soft, the demon king's attire resembles a fluffy purple cloud weaved into thick fabric that covers its neck and tapers down the front instead of wicked black thorns more befitting an incarnation of evil. Its perky rosy nipples are visible from either side. And as it spins once, every motion graceful and fairy-like, its sides and backside are revealed to be completely exposed, a plane of fair skin speckled by freckles with a tiny waist that is made to be held.
Not a single sound can be heard for long unnerving seconds except for a tiny whimper.
“My eyes…”
A hero wearing red seems to snap out of the strange mind state that the demon king seems to have induced them in. “Quick cover your eyes! This skill targets your vulnerable sense of sight to get through your brain to rot it from—!”
Before the other hero can finish his sentence, blood suddenly spurts out from every hero’s nostrils and they collapse on their knees. With each detail of the demon’s sinful shape being permanently inscribed in their brains, there’s unbearable heat that threatens to burn them from the inside out.
“What is this skill…?!” Fear is thick in her voice, as she shakily moves back, fingernails digging into dirt. “This isn’t written anywhere in our records!”
“There’s this irresistible urge to…to…” Another hero’s trembling hand is reaching towards the devilish figure as if being puppetered by invisible strings, then his fingers move to seemingly clench and unclench an invisible ball of air.
“No you mustn't!!” screams another.
“Once you fall for it you’ll get consumed by the demon king, soul, heart- everything! There’s no coming back!”
Just like that, the red sky cracks into a thousand tiny pieces. Only the real world remains.
Izuku bravely peeks his eyes open while still stiffly locking his limbs from executing the worm dance. Why is everyone so quiet?
“I can’t take this anymore.” Is what Hanta says but it’s Shouto who tackles the omega to the communal nest in their common room. Izuku releases an omegan squeal. Like a possessed man, Shouto then shamelessly goes straight for Izuku’s exposed thigh. More specifically his inner thigh that has the omega’s scent gland.
“Sh-Sh-Sho—!!” Izuku squeaks, scandalised, as the alpha manhandles him into a prime position of scenting that puts him on his back, legs spread, with the alpha’s face firmly planted on his inner thigh.
Then it’s like the dam has burst. Before Izuku can reorganise his fizzled brain into a semblance of order, everyone has swarmed him. He can feel another tongue lapping at his other thigh scent gland, dousing him with possessive scents of pack.
This isn’t what he pictures the celebration of Eijirou’s birthday to be. Strung up with bright red ribbons like a humanoid gift in the most scandalous outfit he’s ever seen, with at least two of his packmates between his thighs lapping enthusiastically at his scent glands like glorified lollipops!
Despite all the frenzy, Izuku is relieved to find that his packmates are taking care not to suffocate him, he can still breathe fine although his heart is thundering in his rib cages with all the mindblowing stimuli he’s simultaneously experiencing right now.
“This is the best birthday ever!”
Red hair pops out from beneath the scuffle of bodies. Some of its spikes have flattened yet Eijirou can’t be more thrilled being where he is now, between his beloved omega’s thighs.
Izuku growls, baring his tiny omega fangs, “Bad Eijirou! Look at what you’ve done!”
His threatening display is interrupted with a startled squeak when he feels an exploratory hand groping his butt. His head whips around so fast to locate the perpetrator. Izuku resists the urge to groan.
“Not you too Momo!”
Momo looks embarrassed as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear like a demure school girl. “Sorry Izuku. Denki has been telling me nonstop about how firm your butt is. So my hand just… moves on its own.”
Izuku is now solidly resigned to his fate of being a scenting toy to his packmates.
At some point, he’s laid on his front. The patch of skin on the dip of his back before the cleft of his butt is his last scent gland. Hot breath fans the skin before the sensation of being scented is felt by Izuku. As much as this position embarrasses him, Izuku can’t deny what a thrill it is to be scented at such a private part that’s normally hidden under his clothes. Only Tenya has ever done it before. It certainly lights up the pleasure parts of his brain in a satisfying way.
He’s purring now, pliant and all traces of resistance gone.
Some unidentifiable amount of time passes before Izuku’s hazy mindstate is disturbed abruptly when he detects a foreign scent a distance away from his nest.
It’s Rikidou that first identifies the newcomer by name. “Present Mic! Th-This isn’t what it looks like, I promise!”
All the previous docile, pampered omega fluttery feelings are promptly expelled out of Izuku’s brain, replaced by mortified horror at seeing the beta teacher standing there, staring at them. His hair is down in a braid decorated with tiny flowers, no doubt the work of Eri, and he’s wearing a lamb print pyjama set. He’s the last thing from looking intimidating but that flat, expressionless face certainly causes goosebumps to travel down each of their spines.
“A-Ah this-this, isn’t, is, uh-what, th-that, ohmygodpleasejustkillmenow!!” Izuku screams, hiding his face in his arms, desperately hoping that some benevolent god will pity him and evaporate him into insignificant air particles.
“Sensei, I can explain,” Tenya coughs, holding his hand up as if this is a classroom and he’s waiting to get called by the teacher.
Katsuki is positioning himself in front of Izuku, wordlessly conveying his intent to resist any attempt to remove his omega.
Unexpectedly, instead of sending their asses to Hound Dog to get chewed on morals and decency, Present Mind merely laughs. “Well don’t mind me. I’m just passing by to see what all the commotion is. Nobody is getting murdered so that’s a good sign.”
Everyone is astounded at this lukewarm response instead of the nuclear explosion the voice hero is certainly capable of making that they’re expecting.
“I take it as you giving us permission?” Mezou says.
“To be horny little gremlins to a packmate? Sure. Part of being teenagers is exploring how to be one. Responsibly,” he tuts as if lecturing them, but the beta teacher’s body language doesn’t show that he’s intending to intervene further.
“You’re not going to stop them?!” Izuku squeaks out, voice bordering on hysterics.
“Hey I’m not Shouta.” Present Mic shrugs. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything. Do whatever floats your pack boat. Just don’t let Nemuri see you like that, she’ll make you try so much stuff out that you might as well be her personal dress up omega doll.”
And then just like that he leaves, Izuku’s only last hope of a saviour. Back into the wolf’s den, with countless hungry eyes boring on him. The omega gulps.
Izuku thinks it isn’t fair that he’s in this situation when it’s the first time he ever learns the name of the sorry excuse of an outfit he’s wearing. Virgin killer sweater.
What a literal name.
Something is getting killed today, it’s not exactly Izuku but it kind of is.