MHA smut

fight so dirty, love so sweet

Written by: scribespirare

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

Please be careful going into reading this fic, it may be very heavy for some of you guys.
DON'T RISK IT IF YOU AREN'T SURE.

Contains:

~ Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

~ Blood
~ Rape/Non Con
~Mind Break

Summary:

Two stags in rut walk into a bar.

There's no joke here, just the inevitable knock-down-drag-out that ensues.

_______________________________

Never before has Izuku ever felt so tense. Like a can of soda shaken for entirely too long. He's all pressurized carbonation looking for an escape, ready to explode at even the slightest provocation. Each brush of a body up against his own feels like sandpaper, the dim lights are somehow too bright, and the noise of the bar makes him want to press his hands against his skull until his eardrums rupture.

He also wants to punch the closest person. Repeatedly. But he's trying very hard to ignore those particular impulses.

Even worse is the amount of skin on display here. Izuku had warned his friends that the peak of a stag's rut probably isn't the best time for him to go drinking, but they hadn't listened. And now here Izuku is, eyes catching on every flash of cleavage, every tight ass, every bulge, like his vision has been magnetized to them.

Fuck, he just wants to go home.

Occhako leans suddenly against Izuku's side, her hand on his shoulder and her breasts against his bicep. He's never been interested in her before but his hormones don't care in the slightest. Tits are tits and hers are touching him.

"—across the bar," she's saying, and he blinks stupidly, realizing she'd been talking the whole time.

"What?"

"That guy!" she exclaims, and jerks her chin towards someone. "He's been staring at you."

Izuku follows her gaze until he picks out another stag on the other side of the room. Blond, big, with a rack that's grown in with a lot more points than Izuku's. He also made zero attempt to clean the velvet off his antlers so they're smeared with blood and viscera. It gives him an intimidating air, and the glare and set jaw don't help much.

When Izuku makes eye contact the other stag looks away and, with the bar being so crowded, gets lost behind another group of people. Izuku blinks, confused. He hasn't even done anything since he got here except nurse his drink and try not to scream.

"Damn, he looked pissed. Do you know him?" Occhako asks, still leaning against him. Thankfully the other stag is distracting enough that Izuku has stopped thinking about her breasts.

"No. Never seen him before."

"Huh. Weird. Anyways, I think you should ask out—"

He tunes out the rest of her words, vaguely nodding along. Of course this was the true intention of his friends all along. They always tell him that he should spend his rut with someone. Izuku's never been sure how to tell them that that can be playing with fire. His rut isn't just about sex. It's about violence too. And one without the other doesn't always work very well.

Occhako is staring at him, clearly waiting for a response, so Izuku sighs and tells her he'll go get a drink from the bar. He's not even sure who she thinks he should ask out. Though honestly, it's so crowded that he could probably just disappear out the back and she'd never know. He can text her once he's home and the door is locked safely behind him.