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“KATSUKI YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”
Bakugou sighs deeply. This is why he never comes home to visit.
“Be more specific, you old hag.” He shoots back, but he’s damn comfortable sprawled out on the couch and the retort is half-hearted. His fighting needs are being met so regularly these days that he is occasionally actually able to relax. He’s really starting to understand what all the hype is about.
He’s warm and sated, sitting in comfortable silence next to his father, watching something mindless on TV. Life would actually be quite pleasant if his mother would just stop fucking yelling.
The woman in question materializes in front of him with loud stomps and thrusts a phone into his face, just managing to bang it on his nose. Bakugou grits his teeth and snatches it out of her hands. Now he’s ready for a fight.
“What the fuck you crazy bitch?!”
“YOU BETTER HAVE A DAMN GOOD EXPLANATION FOR NOT TELLING ME ABOUT THIS!”
His father turns another page of the newspaper he’s reading and Bakugou finally looks down at the phone in his hands. It’s his phone. “Were you snooping through my fucki-“
The little pink notification stops him short.
Probability of heat occurring: 97%
It’s ridiculously frilly, there’s a little heart at the end of the notification, and whoever designed the stupid app obviously had babies in mind instead of the much more reasonable and pragmatic need Bakugou has to track an omega’s heat. A Pavlovian heat pools in his muscles and his previous sense of contentment bleeds away to make room for primal excitement.
“You have a fucking omega and you didn’t tell me?!” His mother’s anger has cooled some, seeing the strange glint in her son’s eyes. It’s actually going to happen. Her ungrateful, rude, violent son is actually going to give her grandchildren. Suddenly she’s feeling much more charitable, her stupid son has actually managed to con some poor omega into being with him.
“Stop making that fucking face! It’s not like that! You’re gross and I’m fucking leaving!” He rolls off the couch and to his feet, snatches his jacket, and all but sprints out the door. He’s got better things to do than pick verbal fights with his stupid mother.
There’s a beat of silence in the Bakugou household after Katsuki slams the door, visions of babies dancing in Mitsuki’s head as Masaru calmly turns another page of the paper.
“It’s exactly like that.” Masaru comments dryly.
Mitsuki sprints after her son and throws the door open, leans against the railing and shouts loudly enough that the whole block hears: “DON’T FORGET TO USE PROTECTION!”
Bakugou’s never going home again.
He barely manages to catch the last train of the evening back to UA, fidgeting uncharacteristically the whole time, vibrating with barely-contained energy. The bullet train isn’t fast enough. Nothing is fast enough, he should have just used his quirk, consequences be damned.
He fights down the thought, he doesn’t want to be tired at all when he gets back to campus. He’s got to be in tip-top shape for the next few days. It’s the highlight of his month, every month and nothing is going to ruin this for him. Nothing.
Despite taking for-fucking-ever, the train finally pulls up to the station and Bakugou may or may not elbow an old woman out of the way in his haste to exit. It’s her own damn fault for getting in his way, honestly. He doesn’t sprint back to campus, but he definitely does more than a jog.
It’s late, but not quite curfew, so there are a few people milling about in the almost-warm night air, talking and gossiping, and a few showing off their quirks or having mock-fights. Bakugou has exactly zero time for these stupid extras, breaking through groups and shoving people when he needs to.
He finally makes it back to the dorms, still keeping a hard pace and absolutely ignoring Denki, Ashido, and Kirishima on his way to the stairs. If he could take the stairs more than three at a time without risking falling on his face, he would have.
Denki and Kirishima blink after them from their place on the floor in the common area. “Hell’s his problem?” Denki mutters.
“I thought he was home for the weekend? I hope nothing happened with his mom, they can have some nasty fights sometimes.” Kirishima frowns. “Maybe I should go check on him.”
Ashido stops him before he can stand, “Kirishima, when’s your next heat start?”
“Mine? Oh, um.” He pulls out his phone and taps the little pink icon. Some people have this stuff memorized, but it can be so irregular with all of the physical activity they do as heroes in training. “Next 30 hours or so, apparently?” He sighs. He always manages to start on a Sunday and it really screws up his week.
“Then sit your ass back down, Blasty’s fine.”
Bakugou’s going to take the fucking door off it’s hinges. He slams his fists against the unyielding wood several more times, despite knowing that if the room were occupied, he would probably know about it by now. A small explosion crackles in his hand. Where the fuck is he?
“He’s obviously not in there, please stop banging on the door.” Todoroki’s ponytail friend calls from the end of the hall.
“Where the fuck is he?”
She levels him with a borderline-scathing look. They’ve never really gotten along and she certainly doesn’t approve of Bakugou and Todoroki’s activities. Bakugou can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. There’s just something about having what another alpha wants that really gets him going.
“No idea.” She finally quips back, breaking their staring contest primly and pivoting neatly on her heel to return to her room. ‘And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you’ hangs unspoken between them.
Bakugou puffs out his chest all the same. He loves winning, and small victories are still victories.
The being-unable-to-locate-Todoroki situation is frustrating though. He sighs through gritted teeth and resigns himself to going back to his room. He jams the call button for the elevator, Todoroki will turn up eventually.
The elevator comes quickly and the ride one floor down is blessedly fast. The doors peel open and Bakugou’s heart skips a beat when he sees a familiar face down the hall.
Agitation rolls of Todoroki in waves, Bakugou can see it from several doors away. He’s checking his watch, other hand jammed in the pocket of his jeans. He’s lost the pale blue over shirt he had been wearing earlier in the day and is just in his sleeveless white undershirt. Bakugou can smell him from the time the elevator doors open, his usual snowy campfire scent gone burned and poisonous. It smells more like something foul is burning, the wintery undertones almost completely hidden.
Heat curls through Bakugou. He’s gonna get what he came for.
Todoroki’s head snaps up and he shoves away from the door, stalking towards Bakugou with a gait more animal than human.
“Where the fuck have you been?” He hisses, stepping into Bakugou’s personal space. In true alpha fashion, Bakugou’s got an inch or so on him now, so Todoroki has to tilt his head up to meet Bakugou’s eyes.
Satisfaction and anticipation swirl in Bakugou’s gut, he hadn’t known making Todoroki wait for it a little would fire him up enough to swear and get into Bakugou’s personal space. He’s going to have to do it more often.
“Aww, what’s the matter, Princess? That time of the month?”
Genuine rage curls over Todoroki’s face and Bakugou savors it, commits it to memory, vows to not forget a single aspect of this second. For a moment, it even looks like Todoroki might just punch him in the face, his hands are curled into fists so tightly Bakugou can nearly hear the bones creak, and he bares his teeth the smallest amount. His sharp front omega teeth are out. Heat sings through Bakugou.
He can never get a rise out of Todoroki normally. Not like this, not anything close to this even. He treasures these moments. Todoroki’s too mad to speak, too keyed up for games, and Bakugou savors it.
Todoroki straightens a fraction and slams his shoulder into Bakugou’s as he walks by, not looking back as he makes his way to the elevator, slamming his hand into the call button with way more force than is strictly necessary.
Bakugou shakes with anticipation. The angrier Todoroki gets, the more excited Bakugous gets. He knows it has something to do with pheromones or whatever biology crap goes on between Alphas and Omegas. No alpha is 100% immune to an omega’s heat, they all just react differently, just as no two omegas act perfectly the same. The flood of hormones affects everyone in different ways.
Some Alphas and Omegas get cuddly, or tired, or hungry.
Some Alphas and Omegas like to fuck.
Bakugou and Todoroki like to fight.
Bakugou can’t help himself, he crowds Todoroki into a corner of the elevator, chin up, broad shoulders back, oozing alpha dominance. They aren’t mates and the posturing is incredibly rude and would land Bakugou in a sexual harassment class faster than he could blink, if it weren’t Todoroki.
Todoroki’s eyes narrow to slits, and he stands tall, losing his usual hunch in favor of appearing as big as he can. He flashes his teeth subtly again in the universal signal for back the hell off, but Bakugou can’t. He can’t resist winding Todoroki up, can’t resist getting him that much closer to unleashing the breadth of his rage and potential.
“You get us a room, Princess?”
A normal human being would have seen the fury in Todoroki’s eyes and been nervous they were about to be killed. Bakugou grins wider, feeling his alpha teeth peeking out of his gums. He’s going to tear Todoroki to fucking pieces.
The elevator opens before he’s forced to dignify that with a response, and Todoroki shoves past Bakugou to the exit, ignoring the trio in the common room the same way Bakugou had just minutes before. Bakugou follows hot on his heels.
“Told you.” Ashido sing-songs, watching Bakugou chase Todoroki’s tail across the room, heckling him with scent and proximity like an excited pup.
Todoroki stops abruptly and whips around to fix Ashido with a look that drains the color from her face. Kirishima and Denki go still, and the air in the room charges with tension and expectation. In-heat Todoroki might be a fight Bakugou is chomping at the bit for, but it certainly isn’t a fight that sane people want to have.
Ignoring the stark reversal of their normal roles, Bakugou smoothly steps between Todoroki and the others. When Todoroki doesn’t immediately redirect, Bakugou slides his hand up to the back of Todoroki’s neck. It’s a gesture too intimate and possessive to be ignored, especially with his being in heat. No sane Alpha grabs an in-heat Omega by the neck if they aren’t mated. Most people don’t accuse Bakugou of being sane.
Todoroki’s skin ignites, lighting the sweat on Bakugou’s palm and causing a small explosion. The force knocks Todoroki forward a few steps and Bakugou throws his head back and cackles.
“Didn’t think that one through, did you halfie?”
Something snaps and Todoroki whips around, ice covering one fist as he punches Bakugou in the jaw too fast for Bakugou to react. He’s such a physical fighter in his heats and Bakugou loves it.
Bakugou has a lot of restraint when he’s trying to wind Todoroki up, but he can’t let that slide. He fires off a decent-sized explosion that Todoroki barely manages to dodge from such a close range, and somehow they manage to splinter a table.
“Take your disgusting foreplay somewhere else, oh my god!” Ashido screeches, bringing Bakugou out of his pheromone-induced haze. There’s an inch of frost covering the area around Todoroki’s feet, but he seems to be mostly under control, pressing a hand to his forehead and taking steadying breaths.
There’s definitely a chance Bakugou took it a little too far, but like hell will he ever admit it.
Instead, he scoffs and turns his back on all of them and stalks out, knowing Todoroki will follow. He does hear Todoroki grit out a soft apology in parting.
Bakugou rolls his eyes and stalks off to their usual training room.
The first few rounds go the way they normally do, with Todoroki wiping the floor with Bakugou.
He’s just too keyed up on adrenaline and heightened Omega senses. His control over his fire side is nearly perfect when he just unclenches and lets it happen, and the all-consuming need to tear Bakugou to pieces is the ultimate focal point. He just forgets all of his family drama and his sordid history and fights.
Todoroki tires relatively quickly, and Bakugou seizes several victories in quick succession. He just doesn’t have the stamina to match Bakugou for long while he’s in heat, but after a short break they trade victories back and forth, taking turns pinning each other and working out all of their aggression.
It’s cathartic on a level Bakugou hadn’t thought was possible. It’s a hard fight every time and Bakugou has to struggle to stay on top of his game to match Todoroki’s control and sheer strength. He normally feels like a bottomless pit when it comes to aggression and the need to fight. No amount of sparring with villains or his classmates gives him this level of fulfillment. He just feels sated at the end of it. Not tired or unwilling to fight, just that he could take another round or leave it. He doesn’t need to chase after it like he used to, he gets to drink his fill once a month and work out all his stress and doubt and insecurity.
He knows Todoroki feels both the same and differently about it. It’s not like they haven’t talked about it in the two and some change years they’ve been doing this. It’s more like freedom for him. His past falls away, the expectations of his parents and society just cease to matter. He can go all out against Bakugou without guilt or trepidation no matter how many times he uses his flames. He doesn’t have to feel guilty about his mom, or about making Bakugou feel like shit at the Sports Festival, or about how his sister still lives in that god forsaken house with his father. For a few hours a day, two or three days a month, it gets to be him and Bakugou. No insecurity. No expectations. No social faux-pas. Just catharsis.
Bakugou kicks Todoroki’s feet out from under him and rides him hard down into the mat. His arms feel like jelly, and the desperate need to fight is draining out of him in favor of satisfied exhaustion. Bakugou’s a warm weight on his back, one hand in his hair, the other holding his wrist twisted up and useless, knees jammed up under Todoroki’s armpits.
He calls warmth to his skin, prepared to burn Bakugou off of him, but Bakugou slides the hand down from his hair to his neck in anticipation. “Don’t.”
Todoroki fights back a huff of laughter at the parody of their earlier situation, but lets the heat ebb from his skin. He could try ice, but with the grip Bakugou has on his arm, in the real world, his wrist would be broken before it got cold enough to make Bakugou let go. He sighs and lets the tension run out of his muscles. He’s lost this round and he’s exhausted. They’ve been at it for hours and he’s finally ready to call it quits.
It should probably be unsettling to tip his head and show his throat in the universal gesture for you win, given that he’s in heat, but they’ve been trading the gesture all night back and forth between them and it’s sort of lost all meaning except for as a tap-out. For Todoroki at least.
Bakugou’s throat feels weirdly dry.
He releases Todoroki’s wrist, watches numbly as Todoroki rolls it experimentally a few times, and then settles it on the mat. He’s still got one hand on Todoroki’s neck, is still settled on top of him. The long, pale line of his neck is bared slightly in submission and it’s sight he’s seen a hundred times. It’s the same as always.
But it isn’t. Somehow it’s very, very different.
His heart pounds in his chest.
Todoroki’s scent has gone back to it’s usual warm snowy campfire smell, the fiery undertones so like his own burning scent, and he’s gone boneless and sated beneath Bakugou. Their sessions almost always end this way when Todoroki’s in heat. He wins the first match, Bakugou wins the last one, and they stop when Todoroki’s too tired to keep going.
It’s as familiar as breathing.
So why is he suddenly in uncharted territory?
His hand clenches the slightest bit around the back of Todoroki’s neck, and he rubs the skin there with a calloused thumb. The situation feels overwhelmingly right, and his instincts are pulling him in weird directions that he doesn’t quite follow.
Todoroki cracks his eyes open tipping his head up to look at Bakugou with a pale grey eye. What’s the matter?
Bakugou shakes his head. He doesn’t know.
Todoroki shrugs, unperturbed and closes his eyes again. Bakugou feels it like a punch to the gut. He shouldn’t do that. He shouldn’t trust Bakugou like that. He definitely shouldn’t trust Bakugou to do the right thing, or to not hurt him. He should feel scared and vulnerable and exposed.
His skin is so soft, and his breathing is deep and even. He’s not the least bit concerned about what’s going through Bakugou’s head. Bakugou’s not sure what to do with so much trust.
He swallows hard.
Suddenly he doesn’t feel so sated.
He rubs the back of Todoroki’s neck, massaging the soft skin there almost experimentally. Todoroki hums in approval, it feels nice and he’s sleepy, perfectly happy to be lulled into a post-fight nap.
Is it hormones? Todoroki’s always tired, that’s no surprise, but Bakugou wracks his brain trying to come up with a time he’s been so pliable outside his heat. Not that they’ve ever been in a position like this outside one of Todoroki’s heats. On the contrary, it’s why Bakugou gets so excited; Todoroki never fights him seriously any other time. He gets a pale shadow of Todoroki’s ability, not the hurricane he’s capable of.
The sleepy thing beneath him, calm and secure even with a foreign alpha literally on his back, capable of incomprehensible power.
At his mercy.
Bakugou’s anything but tired. He braces his other hand on the mat above Todoroki’s head and leans down, the motion causing his hips to slide down Todoroki’s back, closer to his own hips. Bakugou’s alpha teeth itch, they feel weird and foreign in his mouth.
Todoroki’s obscenely good looking. No fucking shock there. He’s routinely starring in the wet dreams of half the school’s Alpha’s and Beta’s, and even a chunk of the Omega’s. He’s definitely pretty as a fucking dream, and if Bakugou had expected age to make Todoroki more handsome than pretty, he would be sorely disappointed. Somehow the bastard manages to be both.
There are people who would kill him to be in this position. Would Todoroki trust them, too? Docile and pliant and heavy with sleep, content to bare his throat?
Something ugly and possessive rips through his chest.
He runs his hand back up into Todoroki’s hair, rubbing his scalp and tipping his head so the back of his neck is bared more than the pale line of his throat.
Heat pools in Bakugou’s belly.
Todoroki’s eyes snap open like he’s finally realized this isn’t normal. Bakugou isn’t normal. He doesn’t flinch, though. He doesn’t shove Bakugou off or yell at him, he doesn’t even move except to track Bakugou with his eyes.
Todoroki might be beautiful, but he’s beautiful like a big cat; gorgeous from afar, but too dangerous to touch. Unapproachable, aloof.
No, he wouldn’t let anyone else have him like this.
Bakugou rakes his nails gently against Todoroki’s scalp and sits up a little straighter so he doesn’t have to brace so much on his free hand and can use it instead to tug the strap of Todoroki’s sleeveless shirt away from his neck. Smooth, pale, unblemished.
For now.
He has to open his mouth just slightly to accommodate his alpha teeth, they’ve never felt like this before. He leans down and runs his nose up the line of Todoroki’s neck, stopping behind his ear and feeling the thrill of the lightly chilled skin.
Bakugou’s never spent much time thinking about how Todoroki smells, at least not past how he smells when he’s in heat and ready to fight. He definitely doesn’t smell that way now, no toxic chemical fires, just warm and smoky, and a little like Bakugou. Two different kinds of fire. Wood smoke and gas fires.
His Alpha teeth hurt.
Todoroki’s still not concerned and Bakugou feels like that’s pretty fucking stupid. He should be concerned. He should be very, very concerned because Bakugou isn’t feeling right and his instincts are saying things that he’s not even sure he understands, and Todoroki should not be calm and boneless and curious beneath him.
Except he should be. He should always be spread out and satisfied under Bakugou. Bakugou beat him. He gets to bite his omega, it’s only right. His instincts urge him along. He won his omega in combat. His omega. His partner. His mate.
Except his isn’t. He’s not Bakugou’s.
He could be.
He groans against Todoroki’s neck and pushes himself up with no small amount of effort, chest heaving with the strain of fighting instinct and biology.
“You need to fucking go.” He grits out, instincts screaming against it.
Todoroki sighs. “I know.”
“Then why the fuck aren’t you moving!?” Why is he so fucking stupid? Bakugou’s instincts have a slightly different view of Todoroki than ‘stupid’, but he’s fighting that particular thought process.
“Why aren’t you.” He shoots back, the slightest bit of aggression in his tone. A little venom, some heat. It occurs to Bakugou that Todoroki may have been having a very similar internal debate over the last several agonizing minutes.
“What does this mean?”
“I don’t know, Katsuki.” He just sounds tired now, dropping his head back to the mat with a thud. “Get off of me.”
“Make me.”
It’s childish and ridiculous and Bakugou is better than this, dammit. On the other hand, he would feel a whole lot better if Todoroki put up some fight to get rid of him. It feels too much like he’s waiting for Bakugou to take the next step. There’s too many mixed signals and both of their hormones are out of whack and fighting is so much like sex that sometimes people get confused.
But, this time, there’s no mistaking the heat in Todoroki’s eyes, and now Bakugou really does feel an answering heat in his stomach. Heat is good. They always seem to have it in common. Todoroki bares his teeth the smallest bit and Bakugou leans down to mouth at his shoulder. He’s still in the position of power here, in theory. It’s not a great move. Todoroki’s breath catches, and Bakugou feels the tenuous hold he has on his self-control slipping.
He leans back just enough to meet Todoroki’s eyes again, pupils blown so wide they could pass for the same color. Say no, he begs.
“Alright you two, knock it off.”
They both breath a sigh of relief as Aizawa strides into the room.
They manage to get untangled without further mishap, and miraculously, Aizawa doesn’t revoke their training room privileges outright. Bakugou gets the feeling that if Todoroki’s ever stupid enough to trust him again that they will be watched very very carefully.
He’s not sure how he feels about any of it. Todoroki won’t meet his eyes and Bakugou feels like he’s messed up a very good thing.