Bakugou paced the room They had stuck him in for, literally, the hundredth time. He’d been counting, for lack of anything else to do but seeth. Twenty steps from wall to wall, be it from the thick, locked door keeping him in to the door to the bathroom, or the plain white of the left wall to the equally plain white of the right wall. Perfectly square, the same flat shade of white from top to bottom, including the doors, scrubbed air devoid of any scent pumped in through means he couldn’t see or hear.
But, if he concentrated, he was positive he could hear the soft hum of the Quirk dampening field. Or maybe he could just feel it, an uncomfortable itch just beneath his skin, a thrumming in his bones, an ache in his teeth. It was more distracting, and annoying, than actually painful but it was something that couldn’t be ignored. He felt odd without his quirk, like he was naked and exposed for the world to see.
He hated it.
The only thing of note in the room were the stacks of blankets, pillows, towels, and two folded futons in one corner. In the bathroom there wasn’t much to see there either, a toilet, sink, a shower head recessed in the ceiling that let loose water when a person walked under it, and a large tub, large enough for at least two, set into the ground. The tub was in it’s own alcove sectioned off from the rest of the bathroom by a floor to ceiling plastic wall that he knew from experience was pretty sturdy, and would remain sealed until They decided to unseal it.
It was the standard Heat/Rut room, nothing special or out of the norm about it. He got brought to one of them twice a year, to deal with his cycle away from the other recruits, so he couldn’t cause any harm to the other alphas or, worse, to the omegas in the program. It was one thing to fool around with other recruits, the higher ups turned a blind eye to a little sneaking around at night or mutual jerking in the showers, but when it came to sharing heats and ruts it didn’t happen without orders.
Katsuki had gone through six years of ruts and not once had he been told to mate or breed during one. He wondered what it was like sometimes, had seen other alphas deemed more useful as breeders than fighters taken once or twice a month to attend to a fertile omega and come back glassy eyed and smug, but wasn’t curious enough to ask or look too deeply. He was a fighter, a soldier, at the top of his unit since his parents (featureless figures in the back of his mind, one loud and sharp and the other warm and soft) had turned him over to the program when he was five. All he cared about was getting stronger, completing his missions, and making everyone else look like the piss poor competition they were in comparison.
Getting regulated to breeding fodder was basically being told that one’s genetics were promising, but they themselves were lacking and Katsuki would never tolerate that sort of thing.
And yet here he was, pacing this fucking room during a time that wasn’t his Rut, and that could only mean one thing. He was coming in to assist in some omega’s Heat, to mount them, give them his seed, and leave them to carry a child to term so They could have access to powerful, engineered quirks and soldiers they raised from birth.
Katsuki kept his ears opened and knew that the breeding programs were in response to more Facilities opening around the world, filling a need for superQuirked soldiers, but lacking the actual numbers to support the expansion. Quirks were rare, less than one percent of the population last Katsuki had been aware, and truly strong ones rarer still. It made sense to him; if you had people with quirks and needed more of them having them get together and make more was just the thing to do.
He just didn’t want to be one of them. Shouldn’t be, and yet here he was.
He wasn’t going to do it. They couldn’t make him touch any of the shitty omegas they brought to this room, couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to do, and They knew it. He’d been through the disciplinary re-education classes a half dozen times, been put on restriction, lectured, scolded, and then some but in the end the outcome was always the same. They needed him and his skills so no matter how many times they tried to break him of being ‘Feral’, whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean, he always ended back on the mission board soon enough.
So maybe his latest job had ended up with a lot more collateral damage than intended. Maybe he’d lost his temper when that piss poor excuse for a human being tried to buy him off, promising his pick of the little kids he was trafficking, like Katsuki was into sick shit like that. Maybe he’d seen red, like he had so many times before in his life, and it was only when he’d been stopped and sedated by his partners for the run, Todoroki and Shinsou, that he’d realized he’d not just killed the guy, but brought down most of the building, and the area around it. And yes, he understood they’d lost some leads because of him, all of the files both physical and digital wiped out by the time he was done, and none of the assholes responsible still on their feet to get information out of.
Yes, it would have been better to let Shinsou handle the guy first, and forcing Todoroki to come to blows with him, and cause yet more destruction because he’d been too deep ‘under’ to respond to Shinsou’s quirk wasn’t exactly a good look. He got it, he’d sat through Aizawa’s dressing down, accepted being confined to the facility and put on clean up and newbie training duty for a time without complaint. But, at the same time, that fucker had gotten what he deserved. He wasn’t really being regulated to breeding stock because he’d taken out one child touching piece of shit, was he? His success rate was better than anyone else's, he refused to believe they were going to retire him, at barely twenty years old, like this. They wouldn’t, couldn’t, do that to-
The door creaked open, pulling him from his irritated thoughts. He smelled them before he saw them and couldn’t keep from stepping back and putting a hand over his nose to block it out. He’d never been up close and personal with heat scent but he knew it like he knew how to use his quirk or how to breathe: instinctively. It was a sweet, warm and liquid, syrupy in the air, a little sweat, a little musk, and something bright like citrus. All together it was almost dizzying after who knew how long in the scent scrubbed room; he swayed on his feet, hand darting out to steady him against the wall behind him.
His blood warmed and his cock twitched against his thigh, responding to the mixed scents flooding the space.
Two omegas stumbled into the room, nearly tripping over their own feet and each other in the process. They were completely naked. The lack of clothes didn’t surprise him, there was no point in them in a heat room, but that they didn’t even have collars on was-
Something was up. Omegas in the facility rarely went without collars at all, no one could risk an accidental mating in the heat of the moment, and sure as hell not when they were in heat, or so he assumed. It was dangerous. It was asking for trouble; even in the half a breath he was frozen in place, staring at them their bared necks demanded his attention. Long graceful curves, one pale with a smattering of freckles and lank green hair curling against it, and the other tanned and a bit thicker, with unnaturally red hair, sweat soaked and clinging to the skin. Katsuki wrenched his gaze away, teeth gritting against the twisting and heat coming to life low in his gut, up to their faces as they righted themselves.
One he knew; Kirishima. Hardening quirk, tall for an omega, muscular and broad at the shoulders and hips, small at the waist, with sharp red eyes to match his dyed hair. There were scars, long bits of raised and twisted tissues, deep pockmarks here and there, surgically precise marks at one elbow and behind one knee. Dark curls rested at the base of his already hard and wet cock, decent in size compared to some omegas Katsuki had seen but much smaller than an alpha’s would be, and vagina.
They were in the same unit and had worked with each other more than a handful of times, the omega’s quirk making his near invulnerable to Katsuki’s and thus a viable partner. They got along okay, as much as Katsuki did with anyone...maybe a little more than that, if he was being strictly honest. Kirishima was a decent guy, quick where it mattered, grounded and steady, more than able to hold his own on jobs and in training. Katsuki had noticed Kirishima looking his way more than once but nothing had come of it. Katsuki didn’t fuck within the unit and if he did it wouldn’t be someone he actually worked well with. He wasn’t going to risk a good thing with how messy screwing around could get (feelings happened and, inevitably, things went wrong because nothing could come of it or people got compromised and made mistakes.
Got attached and fell apart when they lost each other.
The other was someone Katsuki didn’t know. Green curls, big green eyes, soft freckled face, on the small side height wise and a little softer at the hips, stomach, and ass than Kirishima was, with thick, strong thighs. Pretty, and curvy in a way that Katsuki’s eyes lingered over, but as littered in scars as anyone else in the fighter units was, especially his hands and arms. He was hard too, the head of his cock slick with precum where it peeked from his foreskin, and dripping slick down the insides of his thighs. He looked to be about their age, which meant that Katsuki should have known him. They didn’t get new people at their stage of training, since everyone got picked up shortly after their quirks manifested. There hadn’t been a new face in their year since they were eight and Shinsou Hitoshi had been moved up to the soldier rank.
It only took a moment, a handful of seconds at most, to look them over and jar himself out of his rattled state, but it was enough for whoever had brought the omegas to slam the door back into place. Katsuki jumped in surprise then, snarling, surged past the omegas to slam his hand against the cool metal of the door. He banged against it, sharp sting spreading through his hand and wrist, swearing furiously at the person he hoped was on the other side listening.
Or maybe there was no one there, because there was no response. No noise at all, not even laughter at his expense or a shout to knock it off no matter how hard he banged on the door.
“Hey, Bakugou,” A hand touched his shoulder. He rounded on the omega with a growl, teeth bared and eyes narrowed and grabbed him by the neck. Red eyes widened, losing some of the fog that had covered him; Kirishima’s hand started to rise up then stopped in midair. Katsuki saw his fingers flex, curl into a fist, and then lower.
His pulse was pounding, strong and wild, under Katsuki’s hand. His skin was warm, smooth, and when Katsuki leaned closer to snap at the omega his scent thickened. It practically dripped from the air, filling Katsuki’s lungs with sticky sweetness.
“Bakugou,” Kirishima said again, throat rumbling against his palm. His expression was careful but softer around the edges than it had any right to be. “It’s fine man.”
Katsuki’s rage flickered, twisted, then went out as quick as a candle submerged in water. It slipped through his fingers like smoke and left him only the feeling of Kirishima’s skin, that stupid scent, the anxious look from the stranger omega, and the rapid beating of his own heart. His cock, hard in spite of himself, curved up and pressing against his belly. He wanted to be mad, wanted to tear these two apart just to prove a fucking point to Them, he wouldn’t be their fucking breeding bitch so if that’s what They wanted they were shit out of luck. But he couldn’t be, couldn’t grasp that feeling or turn it against his new cellmates.
He looked at them and felt only cloying heat simmering inside.
He released Kirishima with a huff and, with one last glare at the door, slunk back over to the far corner. “Stay over there, away from me, shitty hair, and do...whatever it is you do. And keep your friend with you.”
“Midoriya,” The other omega’s voice was stronger, and deeper, than Katsuki had expected. He stood tall when Katsuki glowered at him, not a hint of submission in his posture. “My name is Midoriya and I...I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here.”
Katsuki stared at him blankly. “What makes you think I give a shit?”
Kirishima made a noise that was almost a laugh before wrapping an arm around Midoriya’s shoulders and guiding him to the far corner, where all the blankets and other nesting material was waiting for them. Katsuki watched, arms crossed over his chest, as they maneuvered around each other to lay out the futons and pile up pillows, sheets, and towels, throwing the thicker blankets over top, and very resolutely didn’t think about how they smelled or looked, muscles flexing under their skin, limbs stretching as they moved to and fro, asses thrust up and out as they moved around on their knees, smoothing and building things up, or how painfully hard he was.
His gaze drifted to their necks more than he wanted, zeroed in on their smooth, unblemished napes, and his mouth watered. It didn’t make any sense, throwing uncollared omegas at him like this. Did they want him to bite them?