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The first time Katsuki notices, he’s handing Shouto a bowl of homemade soba for dinner.
He—
Well, he always smells so fucking sweet it makes Katsuki wonder if he’s losing his mind, but there’s something different about it tonight. There’s something different about the way Shouto’s soft cheeks flush when Katsuki’s fingers brush against his when Katsuki hands him the bowl too. And then—
And then he says, “Thank you, alpha.”
Katsuki goes still.
You don’t—
You don’t just say that shit. Not as an unmated omega. Not to an alpha who wants to sink his teeth in. Even if—even if maybe the issue here is just that Shouto doesn’t know that last bit. And Katsuki’s not—well. He’s admittedly not good at the delicate parts.
He’s never courted an omega before, for fuck’s sake.
And Shouto—obviously—couldn’t just be an omega. No. He just had to go and be the kind who doesn’t care that Katsuki’s hands weren’t exactly made to hold precious things, the kind who could handle the truth of it without hurting himself, the kind who—who goes ahead and bares his neck and says thank you, alpha anyway.
“Isn’t this for me?”
Katsuki shakes his head like a wet dog. He’s still holding onto Shouto’s bowl. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it’s—it’s for you.”
The corner of Shouto’s mouth twitches. Katsuki notices. (Of course he does.) “What?” he asks. “No eat a damn vegetable today?”
“You should,” Katsuki says, throat dry. “You should eat a damn vegetable.”
“Okay,” Shouto says softly. “I will, alpha.”
And the real issue here might actually be that—
Well, Katsuki has never let anything go gracefully in his whole life. Makes perfect fucking sense that he wouldn’t start with Shouto. What idiot would do that?
So. He takes the bowl back, places it aside, and says, “You doing this on purpose, princess?”
It’s not—
He doesn’t even mean to, but the hint of an alpha command slips in unasked-for anyway. Because—because maybe it’s as simple as that. Old instinct doing what it wants to despite Katsuki’s best efforts.
Besides, Shouto might not even care. Might not even mean any of it. Maybe he just goes around eager for any gentleness at all. Maybe he’d bare that pretty, unmarked neck for anyone who bothered to ask. Maybe he doesn’t even realize. Maybe it’s not, you know, Katsuki-specific.
Still.
Katsuki has always been stubborn.
Shouto shivers. “Not—I don’t think so?” he says. “It’s just—my heat, and the other stuff. I’m not used to it yet.”
“What other stuff?” Katsuki says.
Shouto lets out a little whine. “It’s embarrassing,” he says. “You can probably smell it.”
All Katsuki can smell is Shouto. His scent just that little bit sharper and sweeter, almost like if Katsuki leaned in and nosed at his bare neck he could taste it. See how sweet Shouto would be on the tip of his tongue. But there’s also—
“Is it milk?” Katsuki blurts, like an idiot.
At least Shouto’s the only one who has the gall to expect Katsuki to prepare him a bowl of food. At least whatever higher being there is has just mercifully spared Katsuki of an audience for this part. A neat little line of people waiting for their turn to get food once Shouto is done crumbling Katsuki’s sanity, probably with Pikachu’s head poking out like an annoying poodle.
“You can tell?” Shouto asks, face red, red, red.
Katsuki probably looks the same, to be fair. “A bit,” he admits. “It’s—different. From your usual scent, I mean. And I figured—I know it happens, with certain omegas.”
“Oh,” says Shouto. “Have you helped a lot of omegas with their heats before?”
He doesn’t sound particularly happy about it, and that alone is enough for Katsuki to be a little braver than what he normally feels like he can handle with Shouto’s pretty eyes fixed so intently on him.
“No,” Katsuki says. “No, I just—I noticed. Because you’re an omega.”
“Oh, okay,” Shouto says. “Thank you, then.”
And with that he leans up on the tips of his toes to press a kiss high on Katsuki’s cheek, takes back his bowl of—thankfully temperature change immune—food, and leaves the kitchen with Katsuki just. Standing there.
Which—
Fuck.
…
The second time, Shouto’s shirt is actually wet with milk.
Well, not Shouto’s shirt. Of course not. Katsuki couldn’t be that lucky. No, it’s his own shirt, suspiciously missing ever since the last time Shouto insisted on helping out with the laundry. His own shirt, that Shouto is now busy tugging over his head to toss aside before he rummages through his dresser for a clean one, and—
Katsuki swallows.
In the meantime, Shouto’s little tits, nipples pink and still wet with milk, are bare. Katsuki wonders about just. Walking in and closing the door and tossing Shouto on the bed. Playing with those pretty tits until Shouto whines into Katsuki’s mouth and then the spreading wet spot on his little leggings would let Katsuki know just how sensitive his pretty omega is, and Katsuki would get to look at Shouto’s flushed face before pressing a hand between his thighs.
What happens instead, though, is Shouto finally noticing him standing by the open door while his head pops through the collar of another too-large shirt that doesn’t look like it was his in the first place, and smiling a little before he says, “Oh, Bakugou. Did you need something?”
Just barely, Katsuki bites at the inside of his mouth instead of blurting out, Yeah, you.
“Take that off,” he says instead, which—isn’t much better in the grand scheme of things.
Shouto blinks. “My shirt?”
Katsuki growls. “That’s not yours,” he says. “Smells like another alpha.”
Shouto plucks at the offending bit of faded red fabric with two delicate fingers. “It used to be Eijirou’s, I think?” he says. “He might have given it to me after my first heat.”
It’s not Shouto’s fault. Not really. Not Shouto’s fault that Katsuki is stubborn and an idiot and horrible at sharing even beyond the standard issue alpha bullshit.
But Shouto is the one who ends up pinned to the wall by the door after Katsuki decides that the best course of action at present is kicking it shut.
“Take it off,” Katsuki repeats. “I’ll give you another one, princess.”
“You will?” Shouto asks. Like he doesn’t believe it. Like it’s something to be hopeful about.
Katsuki can’t help himself, with Shouto looking like that and smelling so fucking sweet and just. Letting him touch. Letting him in. Because they both know damn well Katsuki’s the last person on earth who could get his hands on Shouto without him wanting it. And that—has to mean something, doesn’t it? When the strongest omega you know trusts you to touch him?
“Yeah,” Katsuki says. “Right now, if you want.”
And then he just—
It goes like this. Happens in fucking slow motion inside Katsuki’s head. The monumental discovery of just how warm and soft Shouto is all over, facilitated by that stupid shirt. Because when Katsuki’s hands slip under the loose, worn fabric to settle on his offensively tiny waist, Shouto lets out this surprised little gasp that feels a lot like it did when his quirk sparked to life for the first time, brighter and bigger and more than getting everything you could ever want, because it’s also the kind of thing you worried you might never get to have, but, hey, turns out you didn’t have to.
(Turns out it’s perfect, and it’s yours.)
Katsuki’s hands slide up Shouto’s ribs, and when his fingers accidentally brush against a nipple Shouto keens.
“Alpha,” he whines. “Katsuki, that’s—”
“You wet for me, sweetheart?”
“Mean,” Shouto says. “You’re not supposed to say it out loud.”
Because he can—because Shouto is letting him—Katsuki brushes a thumb against Shouto’s nipple again. “Yeah?” he asks. “Gonna tell me to get out? Can’t touch you, baby?”
“You can,” Shouto whines. “You can, it’s just—ah.”
“Just what?” Katsuki asks, leaning in to rub his nose against Shouto’s neck. “Is your little pussy just as wet as your tits right now, halfie?”
Shouto lets out a pleased sigh, both hands braced on Katsuki’s chest like he’s not sure whether to push him away or lean in and maybe say keep going in that pouty tone of his, the one that usually just means pay attention.
Katsuki’s always paying attention to him. That’s—it’s easy, really. Not looking at Shouto is the hard part. Not stopping right in the middle of a training exercise just to carry him away from danger like he’s some honorable knight rescuing his princess from the fearsome dragon and then just. Well. This bit, probably. Getting to enjoy his merited prize in private.
“Mm,” Shouto says softly. “Yeah, pretty much. Is—do you want to check? Is that why you came here?”
And as much as yeah, Katsuki does want to check, wants enough empirical data to compile a monography by the end, actually, if they’re being specific, he didn’t come here just see how wet and warm Shouto feels inside.
(Because, absurd as that sounds, his life does have a before and after besides the bits that aren’t all Shouto, Shouto, Shouto. Thinking about him or wanting to touch him or—this part. Actually Touching Him.)
Katsuki swallows. “Ponytail needs you downstairs,” he says. “She said it was an omega thing?”
“You came up just to get me?” Shouto says knowingly. Like that’s the incriminating bit, and not Katsuki’s hands slipping higher and higher under his shirt.
There might be a safe answer to that question, one that isn’t nearly as accurate as I’d go anywhere for you, Orpheus was a chump, but Katsuki can’t come up with it. Not when Shouto’s looking at him like that.
So.
“Yeah,” he says. “I did.”
…
They don’t talk about it.
They do a pretty good job of not talking about it for around a week, and Shouto still pouts at him about wanting Katsuki to make him his cold soba. Life, all in all, is not that different.
And then Katsuki walks in on him in the shower just in time to watch Shouto rinse conditioner out of his hair, head tilted back under the steady stream of water.
Katsuki’s teeth itch. He’s never wanted to bite so badly in his whole life.
There’s a damn good reason why most unmated omegas don’t bare their necks at alphas. Because, right now, Katsuki knows he shouldn’t and that he can’t and that he won’t, because it’s not the kind of thing you do without asking, without your omega nodding and whispering okay before letting you have everything you’re ever going to dare to want, but Katsuki wants to anyway. Wants to pin Shouto to the shower tile and figure out what makes him feel good. What will get him to whine Katsuki all needy with blunt nails digging into Katsuki’s back.
Maybe he should ask.
Maybe it’s as easy as that.
As easy as—
“Oh, can you hand me the soap?”
“What?”
“The soap,” Shouto repeats. “I can’t reach on my own. Might slip.”
Might slip. Right. Fucking hell.
Katsuki laughs. “Real subtle, halfie.”
“Who said I was going for subtle?” Shouto asks, head titled the slightest bit to the side.
It’s unfair, honestly. That he gets to stand there all pretty and head empty and bare as the day he was born, and Katsuki is relegated to soap fetching duties. Or—well. The flimsy pretext of it, at least.
“Yeah?” Katsuki says. “Do I need to wash your back too?”
“You can if you want to. I don’t mind.”
It doesn’t even sound like a challenge. Not like he’s teasing either, like he’s finally figured out how to bat his eyelashes like a proper omega. More like—well, like Shouto. Like he really is just saying whatever unfiltered truth lives up in his pretty little head. Like he’s never once in his life worried about what letting Katsuki come too close might mean, or what it might lead to.
“Hand me the washcloth,” Katsuki says. No use dragging it out. They both know.
Shouto does. And for a few blissful breaths, Katsuki is too busy working up a lather to worry about how soft and sweet and fucking perfect Shouto is. He rubs the soapy washcloth between his shoulder blades, and something between wonder and want and raw hunger punches him right in the center of his throat.
“Could bite you right now,” Katsuki blurts. “Then what? Gonna go home to daddy with my come still leaking out of you? Huh, Shouto?”
“You could,” Shouto agrees, voice rising higher before it steadies. “So why don’t you?”
Instead of answering, Katsuki nips at his shoulder. He’s close enough that the spray of water is starting to soak his clothes, but it doesn’t matter. He wants to be closer. Wants—wants Shouto spreading his legs and letting Katsuki lick him open before he pushes himself inside, the swell of his knot catching on Shouto’s puffy cunt while he whines about more and deeper and oh, like that, yes, keep going.
Needy little omega.
Katsuki could take care of him. Katsuki should take care of him. Should just bite him right now and get it over with.
“Oh,” Shouto says softly, “that’s why.”
It stings, a little. Like scraping your knees on concrete. Running too fast on a summer night, clothes sticking to skin, something else, some inadequate part of you, sticking to the uncomfortable awareness that you can’t wash certain things off. Like pride. Like wanting even while you know damn well you haven’t done anything to earn the things you want.
But—
It’s not like that, is it? And if he knew, Shouto’s mouth would purse and he’d say something about how he makes his own choices and, as far as he knew, Katsuki wasn’t protesting being chosen.
“Shut up,” he hisses, pinning both of Shouto’s wrists to the bathroom tile. “I’m trying to be nice here, sweetheart.”
Shouto bites at the inside of his cheek. “What if I don’t want you to be?” he asks. “Is that—not okay?”
He’s looking up at Katsuki, damp hair sticking to his forehead, eyes so full of trust even while Katsuki tightens his grip and drops his head onto Shouto’s collarbone only to grunt, “Fuck, you’re killing me here, princess.”
“Well,” Shouto says evenly. “If it helps, it’s not easy on my part either.”
Katsuki laughs, can’t help it. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Shouto says. “I get all wet. See?”
And with that, he takes Katsuki’s free hand, and guides it between his thighs, where he’s wetter and warmer and softer than anything out of Katsuki’s dreams could ever be. Katsuki presses a finger more firmly between his folds, teasing slick out of his pussy.
“Alpha,” Shouto whines. “Alpha, please.”
“Anyone else touch you here?” Katsuki asks. “Bet you taste so fucking sweet, princess.”
“No,” Shouto says. “No, I was waiting.”
“But I get to touch, right?”
Shouto laughs. “You already are,” he points out. “You can—ah, keep going.”
“Telling me what to do now?”
“Suggesting,” Shouto says, hitching on a gasp when Katsuki’s finger slips inside him. “You know, just in case.”
Katsuki might love him, honestly.
He should tell him, later. He should tell him and he should ask him out for real and maybe keep him forever. But he wants to watch Shouto come first. Feel him clench tighttighttight on his fingers, and then maybe kiss his red mouth to help him keep quiet.
Shouto’s tits are leaking tiny droplets of milk. Katsuki almost misses it, with the water sliding down his perfect body. But when he leans in and takes one of them in his mouth, just barely tugging at it with teeth, Shouto shivers in his hold, and his little pussy gushes slick.
“Fuck, did you just—?”
“Oh,” Shouto says, just as awed. “I’ve never—like that.”
Katsuki kisses him. Can’t not. Lets go of Shouto’s wrists to cup his soft face, and then he’s too busy mapping out the inside of Shouto’s mouth to care about how as soon as Shouto decides he needs to catch his breath more than he wants to keep kissing Katsuki, he’s going to have to walk out of this bathroom with soaking wet clothes and—
“You’re hard,” Shouto gasps into his mouth. “And I didn’t even get to help.”
—and yeah, that too.
“It’s okay,” Katsuki says. “You’re so fucking pretty, it’s fine, sweetheart.”
“But I want to,” Shouto pouts. “Can I? Next time?”
Which—
Yeah, that’s definitely worth walking back to his dorm like a wet dog. Even if someone takes pictures.
“Sure,” Katsuki says. “Anything you want, pretty omega.”
…
The next time it happens, they’re in the middle of prepping for a training exercise.
Shouto’s doing some complicated stretch that’s going to send Katsuki to an early grave, most likely with one specific part remaining stubbornly upright even as they lower the damn casket. He doesn’t even notice, the pretty bastard.
No, of course he doesn’t.
Instead, it’s Kaminari who says, “Woah, dude, you’re, like, leaking,” with his cheeks red.
Katsuki growls. It’s loud enough that it echoes in the empty space. Because—Shouto’s shirt is wet. Wet and sticking to his chest.
“Oh,” says Shouto, tugging at the fabric. “Sorry. I’ll—go change.”
“I’m taking you,” Katsuki blurts. “You’re not going alone.”
Predictably, cheers and shouts follow. Katsuki places a hand on Shouto’s lower back to lead him out of the gym, but he’s pretty sure he overhears Kaminari start to take bets on—something before they’ve even made it out the door. He’s smart enough not to say anything to Katsuki’s face, though, and Katsuki has more important things to worry about.
(You know, like Shouto.)
…
All things considered, Shouto protests very little to being princess carried to Katsuki’s dorm. He’s hardly blushing at all when Katsuki leans in to kiss him after carefully putting him down on the bed.
“Gonna have to take care of you my whole life, huh?” Katsuki says. “Is that it, pretty omega?”
“I really didn’t notice,” Shouto pouts. “Your fault, anyway.”
“My fault?” Katsuki repeats. “Why’s that?”
“Won’t knot me,” Shouto mumbles, plump lower lip jutting out in a cute little pout. “That’s why—it can be a hormonal thing, apparently? All the lactating? I looked it up. Sometimes it’s just, like, crying kids on the street, but I’m sure in my case it’s actually just that I really, really want your knot in me, alpha.”
“You looked it up,” Katsuki repeats uselessly. “You looked up why your tits were leaking milk all the time?”
“My alpha won’t drink it,” Shouto says very seriously. “That’s apparently why.”
Katsuki groans. “You’re going to kill me,” he says. “Rest in Peace Bakugou Katsuki, died about to do what he loved.”
“That’s sweet,” Shouto says. “If, you know, I’m what you love in that sentence.”
Katsuki laughs. “Take a guess, sweetheart,” he says, before leaning in to kiss Shouto again.
“Well,” Shouto whispers into his mouth. “I would like you to do me. If that’s also okay with you.”
“Shouto,” Katsuki says. “Baby, c’mon.”
Shouto giggles at him. “Sorry,” he says. “But at least you like it?”
“I like you,” Katsuki corrects. “There’s a difference.”
Although—
He likes this, too.
Likes the soft sounds Shouto lets out when Katsuki takes his shirt off just to cup his cute little tits, how he gasps when Katsuki squeezes a perfect handful. It’s nice, how soft Shouto is all over. Like he was fucking made for Katsuki to come home to. For this bit. For Katsuki to settle on top of him, and suck the milk out because he needs it so bad he’s leaking, got all wet in the middle of training just thinking about it, poor baby.
“Yeah,” Shouto says, a hand playing with the hair on the back of Katsuki’s head. “I know. You’re a good alpha. Did I—did I say that yet?”
“Eh,” Katsuki says. “I figured.”
“Oh,” Shouto says. “Okay then. So you’ll knot me now?”
“You want it?” Katsuki asks. “You sure? I know you haven’t—”
Shouto nods. “Yes,” he says. “I’m sure. I like my alpha a lot.”
Oh, well. When he says it like that—
Hard to say no. Because Shouto’s so fucking pretty and he tastes sweet and he wants Katsuki’s knot in him, so.
Katsuki gives it to him. He goes slow. Kisses Shouto all over because he can. And then Shouto lets out this little huff when Katsuki tries to press inside, whines I won’t break at him, and the only thing Katsuki can think is fuck, you’re perfect and you’re mine and I’m going to keep you forever.
It’s—
Kind of a lot, actually.
It’s okay, though.
Of course it is. It’s with Shouto.
Shouto, who waits approximately ten seconds after the swell of Katsuki’s knot goes down enough for him to pull out before saying, “Can we go get ice cream?” only to add, “I mean—we are dating, right? I didn’t get that part wrong?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki says, pressing his lips to Shouto’s forehead. “We’re dating. You’re all mine, princess. Better learn to deal with it.”
“I like that,” Shouto says. “Being your omega, I like it. I think I want to do it for a while.”
“Sure,” Katsuki says. “How about forever?”
(Not long enough, probably, but he’ll manage.)
Shouto considers this. “Only if you’ll be my alpha for that long,” he says. “And if you buy me ice cream.”
Which—
Well, it’s a pretty good deal.
(Even if Shouto orders three scoops of ice cream with sprinkles on top and pouts at Katsuki about wanting them to share it.)