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They get together their second year, before all hell breaks loose. Due to the circumstances—if you can call going to war a “circumstance”—there was no courting period. No mating ceremony, either. Just him and Izuku, shaking with nerves as they bore their fangs and sank them around each other’s scent glands, forever marking them as mates.
It wasn’t perfect, but hey, nothing between them had ever been. They were together at least, before the worst of it happened. Frankly, that was all Katsuki wanted—to ensure Izuku knew that Katsuki was his alpha, that he had someone to come back to when it was all over.
Now, years later, the drama is finally behind them. They’re pro-heroes, a duo both at work and home. They’ve never been happier. Katsuki rarely thinks of how unconventional their relationship was in the beginning, or how many steps they rushed through to get to where they are now.
In fact, after bedding his new mate for the first time, he hasn’t thought of it at all.
That is until he walks by Izuku’s desk one day while they’re on a lunch break.
It’s his mate’s crestfallen expression he picks up on first—a deep furrow between his brow, his lower lip sneaking out into a pout. Katsuki stops in his tracks when he sees it, jerking to a halt directly in front of his office. The copier can wait a few minutes.
As he enters the confined space, he takes in a deep breath, scenting the air. Even with blockers in place, Katsuki has always been keenly attuned to any change in Izuku’s slightly floral, mostly earthy aroma. Right now the usually pleasant scent is tainted with a bitter smell, like green tea that’s steeped too long.
“What’s up?” he demands gruffly as he plants himself on the opposite side of Izuku’s desk.
Predictably, Izuku sputters in surprise, caught off guard by Dynamight’s near silent arrival. Katsuki has learned how to move without making a sound over the years, a technique that pays off in full now. When Izuku jumps slightly at the noise, it gives Katsuki a clear view of what’s lying in front of him.
It’s only visible for a second before Izuku immediately covers it, leaning onto the wooden surface with both elbows. Too eagerly, he exclaims, “Kacchan! There you are!”
That was definitely the latest edition of Heroes Weekly that flashed before his eyes. Now why exactly is Izuku hiding it from him?
“Yeah…” he drawls, gaze narrowing at a still-visible, glossy corner. Heroes Weekly is an affront to journalism and should be purged from society. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Just reading stuff. Things,” Izuku rambles. “News. Keeping up with the latest, you know me.”
One of Katsuki’s eyebrows twitches up. “News? You mean like that app you use? The one that never shuts up?”
Katsuki has grown accustomed to hearing the alert notifications chime every few minutes… during work, at least. He’s threatened to put the phone in a blender if Izuku leaves it on after shift. Pro Hero Deku thinks he needs to be available every second of every day. Katsuki’s personal mission is to make sure that he isn’t.
Regardless, he knows that’s not what Izuku was looking at seconds ago. News doesn’t come printed next to some drivel about what skin care routine Uravity uses to keep her skin glowing.
“I—uh, yes. That’s more breaking news and this is…” he trails off. Katsuki can literally watch as the gears grind away in his head, trying to come up with an explanation for why a professional hero—who literally knows what’s happening before even the news agencies do—would bother to read a newspaper. Of course, he comes up empty.
Katsuki’s glare intensifies until the simpering grin on his face cracks.
“Okay, yes. It’s Heroes Weekly,” he admits with a heavy sigh.
“No shit. That clogs up our mailbox every Friday.”
Katsuki can’t even throw it out like he wants to. No, he’s a good husband, so he places it nicely on the countertop for Izuku to devour after his first weekend shift ends. They each have their vices—Izuku’s is that he loves to read gossip rags; Katsuki’s is that he sneaks a donut once a week. Gotta find balance.
“Why are you hiding it?” Katsuki demands. “And why do you smell so weird?”
Izuku groans and sinks forward, dropping his head onto his arms. He looks as pathetic as he did in school after a rough test, worn out and exhausted. It was cute back then. A lot more concerning now, especially when accompanied by a low whine.
Katsuki’s tired of playing nice. Reaching forward he grabs the corner of the magazine and wrenches it free. Izuku gasps and scrambles to his feet, attempting to snatch it back. But it’s too late, Katsuki’s already seen the full cover.
“Top ten hottest omega heroes?” He lets out a noise of disgust. “What the hell even is this garbage?”
Izuku takes back the magazine, placing it down on the desk once more and smoothing its pages reverently. From the misty sparkle in his eyes, Katsuki can tell that he’s put way too much weight into the article.
Even worse, Katsuki immediately knows those assholes didn’t add him to their list.
“It’s not garbage,” Izuku answers quietly. “It’s the public’s opinion.”
“You mean it’s a popularity poll. Based on looks. Wow, those idiots are so cutting edge.” He moves around the side of the desk, coming up behind Izuku and peering over his shoulder. Time to absolutely obliterate this article before it does any lasting damage to Izuku’s confidence… and then possibly to the publishing company itself during the next press conference. Scoffing loudly, he points out the obvious. “They’re all in the top thirty! No wonder! They do a ton of commercials, too, so their dumb faces are everywhere.”
“Yeah… maybe.” Izuku’s voice wavers slightly. “I’m in the top five and I’m everywhere, too.”
The small frown on his lips says what he won’t: But I’m not on this list, am I, Kacchan?
“So some asshole gets off to these ten faces. Whoop-de-fucking doo! No one asked. Where’s the list for Omegas Who Can Flatten Buildings? Or Omegas Who Saved the Country? Looks? Spare me.” He slams his hand over the cover, moving closer until he’s pressed flush against Izuku, haughtily informing, “You’re better than any other omega in the world.”
Izuku blows a quiet laugh through his nose. “Quit exaggerating.”
“I’m serious. These lists are stupid. Don’t let it affect you.” With a sweep of his hand, he bats the offending object from the desk, relishing the sound it makes as it smacks into the wall. Then he slips his arms around Izuku’s waist, pulling him closer so he can murmur directly into his ear. “You’re perfect, Izuku.”
“Number One Hottest Omega on Bakugou Katsuki’s list?” he questions, letting out a chuckle when Katsuki groans in pain.
“…don’t make me say that, it’s too cheesy.” He nips at his earlobe, then his freckled cheek, chuffing lightly. “Lists are dumb, and popularity is overrated.”
“Yeah,” Izuku breathes, settling his own hands over Katsuki’s. “You’re right, like always.”
His words might sound like he’s convinced, but the sourness isn’t completely out of the scent that brushes over Katsuki’s tongue. He can still taste the despair, though it’s dwindled to the point where no one else possibly could. Katsuki’s grip tightens around Izuku, comforting and firm. But his eyes narrow at a point on the blank wall ahead, determination filling him.
I’m going to fix this, he tells himself. But first, I’m going to absolutely destroy Heroes Weekly.
The solution he comes up with is a stroke of genius. Elegant, really… at least his plans for Izuku.
Heroes Weekly is easy enough. He calls in some favors with his co-workers and they agree to boycott the magazine. When all the top professional heroes refuse to interview for the foreseeable future, Katsuki knows he needs to only count down the days until they come crawling, begging for forgiveness. He can already hear the sniveling, and looks forward to the amazing feature they pen about Pro Hero Deku.
In the meantime, he needs Izuku to feel special, to know how deeply Katsuki cares for him. Izuku has to forget about Heroes Weekly and the public in general for a bit. Of course, both are impossible to avoid forever, but Katsuki makes it his mission. The next time Izuku inevitably runs across a stupid exclusive list, he won’t give a damn if he’s on it.
Katsuki is going to do his best to cheer up his mate. And his plan starts with flowers.
They’re Izuku’s favorite—rich, yellow sunflowers, their delicate petals spread wide in a friendly greeting. It’s early spring so they’re not in season yet, which makes the price for a dozen bouquets skyrocket. That’s right, Katsuki purchased twelve large arrangements, and he woke up early today so he could receive the delivery and place them everywhere in their shared apartment.
There’s a bouquet in a clear, glass vase on Izuku’s nightstand—the first thing he’ll see when he opens his eyes in a few minutes. There’s another in the hallway. A third sits on the bathroom sink. A fourth in the kitchen, a fifth on the table, and so on and so on. Katsuki set them up all over their living space, so that everywhere Izuku goes this morning, he can see their happy, yellow faces and smell their pleasing aroma.
Katsuki doesn’t mind them either—they aren’t as strong-smelling as roses, so there’s no chance they’ll drown out Izuku’s scent.
He wants to show Izuku his intention before he even says the words aloud to him. To surround him with his love, and demonstrate how deep it runs. This is only the first step, after all, and he wants Izuku to know that he’s dead serious.
Six years can change the shape of love. It has transformed theirs into something stronger, the heat that sparked their connection fading to a slow burn, unshakable and true. There’s no longer a pressing desire to bite and claim, to make the same marks over and over again in a fevered attempt to possess the other.
They’re mates. They’ll always be mates. Similar along the lines of “I need air to breathe” is this thought circulating in Katsuki’s head: Izuku will be mine until the end of time, and I will be his. This is a fact.
Katsuki likes facts. They help him make sense of a world that stopped trying to do so when he was a teenager. He relies on them, just as he leans on Izuku time after time to get through the worst days. His mate is the bedrock on which his life is built, and the only reason he manages to hold any of this together.
Which is why nothing about Izuku should faze Katsuki anymore. Yet, surprisingly, when Izuku enters their kitchen wearing a soft, puzzled expression some minutes later, Katsuki’s heart skips a beat.
“‘Morning, Kacchan.” Izuku’s greeting is as warm as always, though Katsuki can hear the undercurrent of confusion. “What’s going on?”
Katsuki can only guess what’s going through his head. Without his scent patches on, the detective work is made a lot easier. He can smell the panic stirring, which means Izuku is probably scrambling to figure out if he’s missed an important anniversary.
Katsuki isn’t much for making alpha noises in public… other than growling, of course, but he did that long before he presented. He reserves those other sounds, the softer ones, strictly for private settings. Even then, he can barely bring himself to make them in front of family and friends.
Izuku, of course, is the only exception.
The rumble that slips out of him is low and soothing, meant to put his mate at ease. He watches how it makes the tension bleed out of Izuku’s shoulders, his spine melt as he lets out a contented sigh.
“Relax, Izuku,” he tells him, approaching his mate where he stands in the entrance to the kitchen. He passes Izuku a warm cup of coffee—there’s a splash of milk and a bit of sugar, just the way he likes it—and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Mornin’.”
“There’s a lot more flowers in here than I remember seeing yesterday,” Izuku ventures, taking the mug. He shoots Katsuki a sheepish look. “…Did I miss something?”
“Yeah. We both did,” Katsuki answers cryptically. He loves how Izuku’s mouth purses when he thinks, and takes the opportunity now to lean down and plant a kiss on it. “I made breakfast. You have to eat it all,” he murmurs against those plush lips, touching them once more with his own before pulling away.
Izuku follows him as he moves to the table, taking his seat across from Katsuki and obediently digging into the small feast his mate has prepared. The entire time he eats, he sneaks glances at the alpha, clearly trying to puzzle out what he’s up to.
“‘We both did,’” he repeats at the conclusion of the meal. “What’s that supposed to mean, Kacchan?”
For some reason, Katsuki feels his nerves kick in now that the moment of truth has arrived. Especially when his gaze meets Izuku’s warm eyes. They’re the color of summer grass, and one of the things Katsuki loves most about the other man. Izuku’s eyes are always expressive, a window to his strongest desires, his private thoughts.
They widen as Katsuki rises from his chair, only to drop to a knee next to Izuku, taking both of his palms into the alpha’s.
“Izuku.” He says his name slowly, trying to cherish the moment. His thumbs trace the scars on his hands purposefully. “We’ve had a wedding. We’ve been mated for years… but there’s an important step we skipped.”
Izuku’s mouth opens and closes. No words come out.
“The reason for the flowers this morning—and for everything else that’s about to happen—is because…” He takes a deep breath to steady himself. His insides are practically writhing at this point, brimming with nervous energy for a reason he cannot begin to fathom. “I want to court you. Officially.”
The shock in Izuku’s expression fades after a moment, smoothing as it’s replaced with a fond grin. “Oh, Kacchan. That’s sweet, but kind of… silly? You don’t need to court me. You’ve always had me.”
Katsuki’s grip tightens—not painful, but unyielding. Like Katsuki himself, the way he touches Izuku is meant to convey that he’s not giving up. “That’s the point. It’s been too easy.”
Izuku’s eyebrows shoot up.
“I want to earn that mating bite fair and square. Like we could have, if we had time before… well before everything happened.” Katsuki brushes over their past. He’d rather not remember it at all if he could, but here they are, still grappling with the fallout years later.
At least he can set things right.
“Now, we have that time,” he continues, setting his gaze fixedly on Izuku. “Now, I want to do it like we should have.”
Katsuki watches his mate swallow, jaw trembling. He can tell that Izuku’s finally taking him seriously. “You want to court me… you want to court me?”
“‘Course I want to court you.” Katsuki snorts lightly. “And I’ll beat to death anyone else who tries.”
Izuku laughs softly as Katsuki climbs back to his feet. “I’m mated to the most powerful alpha in the country. I doubt anyone is going to try.”
Their fingers are still entwined, and Katsuki can’t help but look down at them, admire how they fit so well together. Matched as perfectly now as they had been when they were younger.
“They better not.”
An official courting period is something straight out of the 1800s. Or it’s supposed to be—written correspondence, an endless flow of gifts, and carefully arranged dates, usually chaperoned by a member of the omega’s or the alpha’s pack. It’s a lot of unnecessary frills and etiquette. The sort of thing that would normally make Katsuki roll his eyes, clench his jaw and force himself to bear while he let it everyone know that he was not doing this by choice.
Except this was his idea, which means, they’re doing it all. Every step. He will show Izuku that he’s worth the extra effort, even if it means he has to endure the brunt of the annoyances.
Katsuki assumes that the first phase of the courting process will be easy—written correspondence. Before phones, that’s how couples did it, passing handwritten notes back and forth for months on end. In modern day terms, Katsuki could probably just send an email or text, but it sounds way too cheap and easy.
He wants to impress Izuku, which means he’s going to buy a Campos notebook—just like the one the pro hero still carries with him every day—and spill his heart out in ink across the blank pages. Izuku is not going to know what hit him.
How hard could it be to string a few thoughtful lines together?
He stumbles into his first roadblock immediately. Turns out, it’s not as easy as Izuku makes it look. He spends a week tackling the letter, working on it every day after shift. Saying “I love you” is simple, especially when he can couple it with a tender kiss or an aggressive nip. Writing all the ways that Izuku makes it true is so much harder.
The struggle to explain why his mate’s freckles are the first thing he wants to see in the morning, or why his sweet voice is the last sound he wants to hear at night, is next to impossible. He tries, anyway.
If written correspondence is his initial test, then he doesn’t find out his grade until they’re on their first outing together. The date is a walk in the park. Literally. An old school promenade, straight out of a Victorian-era setting. Except it’s two heroes in their civilian clothes, trying to blend in while they stroll through one of the city’s busiest parks.
“This is nice, Kacchan.” Izuku’s smile makes the corners of his eyes wrinkle in an absolutely adorable manner. If only Katsuki wasn’t a ball of nerves, he might appreciate it. “I haven’t gotten a chance to do this with you in… Gosh, I can’t remember how long it’s been.”
“Too long,” he replies, perhaps a bit too gruffly. In his defense, he’s trying to decide what to do with his hands. He’s got one clenched around the letter in his pocket, as he attempts to determine the best moment to give it to Izuku. The other is hovering awkwardly in the air, inches away from his omega’s.
At the last second, he remembers they aren’t supposed to touch. That’s what the official protocol is, anyway. Nothing intimate or romantic in public, nothing unseemly. He clenches and unclenches his hand in the air, before letting his arm drop to his side.
He feels like he’s sixteen years old again, on his very first date with Izuku. His heart is pattering in his chest, he’s way too sweaty for mid-March, and he has no idea what to do next. It’s so strange… Katsuki has been around Izuku his entire life. For all intents and purposes, he shouldn’t get nervous around him at all. Especially now. They’re married, for crying out loud! But it’s always been the heavy emotional moments, weighed down with importance, that have made Katsuki’s heart pound forcefully.
He wants to make these moments perfect. He wants to show Izuku that he’s the best, that despite everything that’s gone on between them, Katsuki is a good husband and an alpha who’s hellbent on taking care of his mate.
…and that Izuku was right all those years ago, when he chose Katsuki, showing up at his door and begging for his mark before they marched off to war.
It’s a lot to measure up to, but Katsuki is determined to prove his worth.
“Kacchan, are you okay?”
“Here! I wrote this!” Katsuki shouts as he thrusts the folded piece of paper at Izuku. His foolish heart beats a thunderous tune in his ears, nearly drowning out his mate’s reply.
“A letter…” Izuku opens the paper carefully, as if he’s worried that a too-harsh breath might blow it away. He reads it so slowly that Katsuki can track his progress by the flick of his eyes across the page. His own breathing has picked up, matching the pace of his heart. He squeezes his hands into trembling fists as he waits for Izuku to reach the bottom, silently ordering his body to gain some semblance of control.
“Kacchan.” Izuku’s voice wobbles after he finishes. His gaze is glued on the jagged signature scrawled on the notebook paper, a finger coming up to trace it. “It’s beautiful,” he sobs, wiping at his watery eyes.
Before Katsuki leans in, he steals a glance around them. He’s not sure why; it’s not like the courting police are waiting to catch him in the act of violating the “no touching” protocol. Screw it. He just needs to hold Izuku for a second.
As Katsuki moves to capture Izuku’s now free hand with his own, he’s grateful for the tears the omega just wiped away. They disguise how clammy his hand has become as he threads their fingers together. He hopes the twitching grin he shoots at Izuku can hide the nerves, too.
“You big sap,” he teases with utmost satisfaction, his confidence restored in an instant. “What did I tell you? Look out, ’cuz even my letters will make you cry.”
He purposefully doesn’t mention the dozens of drafts he trashed, or how he burned through an entire campos notebook before he finally managed to pen this one.
“Kacchan is amazing!” Izuku laughs, a matching grin tugging on his mouth as he grabs his alpha in a tight hug. Katsuki can smell how elated he is, his floral scent swelling until Katsuki’s head feels light and airy. If he closes his eyes, he can almost picture himself laying in a field of wild flowerd, the weight of Izuku pleasant on his chest.
Katsuki is happy with this part of the courting process. He’ll count this phase as a win.
He’s not looking forward to the next step. Chaperoned dates. Once again, something straight out of the Old Days. Back then it was a means for a couple to get to know each other before their mating ceremony. An “opportunity for packs to meet and mingle” is what Katsuki’s research turned up. The reality was probably more along the lines of chaperones preventing an accidental heat or rut.
All Katsuki knows is that the moment he spies his mom and dad waiting for him outside of the restaurant, any thought of romance is annihilated on the spot.
“You look good, son!” His dad greets cheerfully. Katsuki takes a moment to run his eyes over them, checking to make sure they followed the dress code like he’d told them to. They’re in the fashion business, so he shouldn’t be worried. He still is. He needs tonight to not be a complete disaster.
“Except for that hair,” Mitsuki chimes in as he stops in front of them. To his horror, she attempts to reach up and flatten it. He’s taken great pains to style it tonight, trying to control it as best he can so that it’s smooth everywhere but the playful spikes in the front. A look straight off the runway, which his mother should know. Instead, she’s reaching with both hands like she’s going to slick it down for a school picture.
Years of hero training makes it easy to dodge her, though that means he spins closer to his dad who immediately starts working on his tie.
“There! All straight,” Masaru announces when he finishes.
“Can you two just be normal, tonight?” Katsuki grumbles as he readjusts his tie back to center.
“How can we be normal when what we’re doing clearly isn’t?” his mom counters.
Katsuki can feel his annoyance ratchet up to “blow-a-gasket” level. Mitsuki has a real gift for crawling under his skin. He’s already been over this with both of them. Several times. Just as he manages to form a response through the haze of fury fogging his head, he notices Izuku’s arrival out of the corner of his eye.
He’s dressed in a dark tuxedo, the hue a mysterious shade between black and green, hard to discern in the soft light in front of the restaurant. It does wonders for his eyes, making them sparkle as they find Katsuki’s. But it does even better things for his body, the suit tucked in all the right places to emphasize his fit, lean body. Katsuki’s gaze can’t help but dive down from that firm chest to that slim waist, hovering over those thick thighs.
It takes him a moment to unstick his tongue from where it’s glued to the roof of his mouth. “Hello,” he croaks as Izuku leans up to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek.
His sudden proximity brings Izuku’s scent to Katsuki’s nose. It’s the same soft notes of summer flowers and the rich soil they grow from… but mixed with something else. Something a little spicier.
“Hi,” Izuku purrs, his fingertips playing with the short hairs on Katsuki’s nape before he shifts back down onto his heels. He shoots Katsuki a cheeky smile.
“Hey. No kissing during the courtship!” Mitsuki cries, tone playful.
“Sorry, Auntie.” Izuku turns that smile on her, the feel of it far more polite then it was a second ago. “Hard to break the habit.”
“Good evening, Mitsuki. Masaru. Katsuki.” Inko is apparently taking this seriously as she leans around Izuku, greeting them all individually. He can hear a note of fondness in her voice when she addresses him last. “Why can’t you kiss him, Izuku? I say give him one more, since he put this all together.”
“Mom, you’re not supposed to… It’s not just a dinner, mom,” Izuku explains, a faint blush staining his cheeks. “This is an official courting date.”
“I don’t see the difference.”
“It’s not just a regular weekly get-together. It’s supposed to be like… an interview sort of.” He throws a look at Katsuki, a silent cry for a bail out.
“Aunty, Izuku and I aren’t supposed to kiss in front of you. Or hold hands. Or even sit next to each other. Just pretend it’s a formal meeting with the school principal or something,” Katsuki interjects. Admittedly, it sounds ridiculous. Still, he’s committed. “You’re here to make sure that I’ll be a good alpha for your son.”
“That’s silly! You two are already married!” Inko exclaims, confusion clear on her sweet, round face.
“Why does a couple that lives together need an escort anyway?” Mitsuki’s interjection is, of course, completely unhelpful.
“Actually…” It’s Izuku’s turn to explain. The flush on his cheeks brightens a bit as he quietly states, “Kacchan is staying with some friends of ours for a few weeks.”
“And it sucks. They’re disgusting.” Katsuki makes a face as he thinks about the piles and piles of unwashed clothes everywhere. The things he does for Izuku.
“Oh, really?” Inko’s mouth falls open in surprise, before she covers it with her hand. She appears scandalized as she glances at Izuku, clearly not understanding a shred of what’s going on, and undoubtedly assuming the worst. The omega hero nods to her reassuringly.
“Wow.” Mitsuki’s brows jump up and her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. Next to her, Masaru presses his lips together and bobs his head rapidly. Apparently, all of the older adults present are confused. “Everything… okay between you two?”
Katsuki groans and covers his face. “Yes. We’re fine,” he hisses into his palms.
“It’s just how courting someone used to go. We wanted to try it, that’s all,” Izuku tells them. “We became mates when we were so young. This is our way of doing it over, making it more romantic. Does that make sense?”
“…How long did a courting period usually last back then?” Mitsuki wonders. Well, at least she’s not actively fretting over their relationship.
“One to two years. We’re not going that long.” Izuku explains rapidly, trying to get it out before the inevitable wave of gasps kicks off. He just barely manages to squeeze it in. “Just one or two months. No living together, kissing, or o-other things.”
When he stumbles over the last part of his sentence, their eyes meet briefly and they share a look. No kissing or touching extends to all physical aspects of their lives—no sex, either. And, just to really challenge themselves, no masturbation.
No touching means no touching.
The day that Katsuki finally gets his hands on Izuku, he is absolutely going to ravage him. And the way those green eyes flick over his broad chest and arms, he knows Izuku is thinking the exact same thing.
“I can’t wait to hear more about it over dinner,” Inko says, the epitome of polite confusion. Katsuki feels a headache brewing as he looks over the faces of the three parents. He can just tell his mother is going to grill him.
“Right. Dinner.” Katsuki straightens, turning to face the front doors of the restaurant as though he’s squaring off against a great villain. “Let’s do this.”
He ushers the adults through the entrance first, lingering at the back of the pack. He just needs to steal a moment with Izuku before the worst night of his life officially begins.
“You look good,” he whispers out of the side of his mouth. Here he goes again, toeing the line of propriety. But the books never said he couldn’t openly flirt… and screw it, Izuku looks so freaking amazing right now that it should be illegal.
It’s definitely not fair that Katsuki can’t touch him. Not even a little.
Izuku rocks onto his tiptoes to reply. His voice is husky, barely audible over the din of a crowded restaurant, “You should see what I’m wearing underneath.”
Katsuki nearly trips over his own feet. He’s steadied when Izuku catches him by the elbow. “Careful,” his mate advises. The sly fox’s hand drifts upwards, squeezing his bicep purposefully.
“Hands off, you two!” His mom exclaims, causing Izuku’s hands to immediately fall away. They’re caught in the act, which is something Mitsuki immediately picks up on as her finger comes up to point at each of them. “We’re watching you.”
“Yes, Aunty!” Izuku giggles. “We’ll behave.”
It takes all his willpower to ignore the heat building in his gut when Izuku nudges him with his elbow, giving him a flirty wink.
…I don’t think I’m going to make it, he thinks. Bracing himself, he follows the group inside.
Katsuki is a top pro, which means to the public, he has it all: fame, fortune, and the love of an amazing omega. Yet they don’t know the agony of having to drag said beautiful mate on a date where his mother, father and mother-in-law tag along.
Katsuki has never felt more humbled. He’s also never been more heckled. Mitsuki must have started working on her comedy routine because she absolutely roasts Katsuki the entire time. Masaru is as neutral as always, taking no sides and occasionally reminding his wife and son to lower their voices. Inko is sweet, keeping her questions short.
And Izuku absolutely tortures Katsuki. If it’s not his scent—teasing his inner alpha and causing his instincts to go haywire with that alluring aroma—it’s the subtle glances he throws Katsuki throughout the four-course meal. They’re fleeting at first, but then start to linger. It’s as if Izuku can’t quite get enough of him dressed up, either.
The end of the date absolutely drags out for eternity… and that’s because Izuku couldn’t stop playing footsie under the table. Nothing can quite prepare Katsuki to deal with that silky dress sock sliding up one of his legs, or how he wished he could reach under the table, grab it and force it to touch somewhere more sensitive.
Izuku just grins sunnily at him while he traces the line of his calf, before sneaking his foot back into the shoe where it belongs when dinner draws to a close. The omega is lucky that they have chaperones after all, otherwise Katsuki would have dragged him to the bathroom of the crowded restaurant and had his way with him.
Thankfully, after the disaster date ends, Izuku is the one to suggest that they drop that part of the courting. They both agree that the original purpose was for packs to mingle. Izuku’s and Katsuki’s are the same at this point in their lives, which means goodbye, unnecessary chaperones!
Good riddance, too. Katsuki doesn’t need to worry about anyone else other than himself and Izuku at this point. He’s barely holding onto his self control as it is, and every time he and Izuku meet, it splinters further. He’s just got to bear down and ride the last of it out.
The next part of the courting process is all about gifts. This, he thinks he can handle.
He needs quality presents, not just some random items that can be picked up at any department store. Courting gifts are meant to be charged with meaning—impactful, thoughtful, and most importantly, capable of demonstrating Katsuki’s value as an alpha.
The mating part of their arrangement might already be squared away, but Katsuki still wants to knock Izuku off his feet. This is going to be the best courting ever, one for the books. Mostly, his aim is to make Izuku weep after every gift… which shouldn’t be too difficult, really. Izuku is still a crybaby at twenty-two. But Katsuki wants to see waterworks.
He starts small. Well, relatively speaking. The sunflowers all over the house is not a feat that can be easily brushed off. Putting that aside, he goes tiny at first. A packed lunch, a tidied up desk, a new set of gloves that he’s been working with the support department on… all acts of service. All meant to remind Izuku that Katsuki is thinking about him, even when they aren’t together.
They get more expensive after that—a new watch, some nice pens, and a pair of brass cufflinks with their initials engraved on the surface. He’s working slowly up to the bigger ticket items, which he unveils on their dates.
Two tickets to the local museum’s hero exhibit; they go during a regular workday, soaking in the experience with hardly anyone else around. A lakeside dinner at the park, which comes with a string quartet as the soundtrack to their meal. There, Katsuki shows him the itinerary to a romantic weekend getaway that he has planned. They’ll take it after the courting ends, treating it like their second honeymoon.
He has to be extremely careful with these gifts, always ensuring that others are around. Can’t do a hike like he wants to, because even though there'll be people walking the same path, the chances of the two of them being alone at some point are too high. Once they are, Katsuki knows for a fact that he’ll violate the ‘no touching’ rule.
He won’t tenderly hold his hand when he does, either. Without a doubt, Katsuki will pin Izuku to whatever hard surface he can find, strip him naked, and wreck him.
He almost did exactly that on their last date. During that dangerous instance, he rented out an entire movie theater so they could watch in peace. What a rookie mistake. The two of them in a dark, confined space… No one else around… Katsuki clenched his fist so tight during the film that his fingernails left crescent-shaped imprints on his palms that lasted for hours.
Katsuki is beyond pent-up. Denying himself from his mate is torture, especially when they see each other every day for work. Not being able to relieve himself on top of it is simply agony. He’s now reverted to wet dreams and inopportune erections, the latter occurring whenever his hero partner enters the room and the former, literally every time he sleeps.
This can’t go on much longer. It has to be a side effect of the courting. All this build-up. The teasing. Everything is making the alpha instincts inside of Katsuki kick into high gear, putting him on a hair-trigger whenever he’s near his mate, ready to explode at the slightest pressure.
…and if Izuku doesn’t ask Katsuki to claim him after today’s gift, the alpha doesn’t know what he’ll do. Nothing good, that’s for sure.
He’s out getting them lunch when he receives the phone call.
“Kacchan, was that you?” Izuku blurts into the line as soon as Katsuki picks up.
“What was me?“ he counters, waiting for the inevitable ragged gasp as Izuku tries to keep his tears from flowing. Impossible task, but gods if Katsuki didn’t appreciate the effort the other man makes.
When Izuku responds, the wobble is absent from his voice. Instead, there’s this charged energy to it, a laser-like focus as he elaborates. “I’m looking at the latest issue of Heroes Weekly.”
Katsuki pictures the cover—Izuku with his shirt off, bare chest on display; above him, in large letters “The Number One Omega Tells All.”
Katsuki can’t help but grin. “Are you?”
“That interview last week. That was your idea. You put this together.” He states the facts plainly, without accusation, piecing together the puzzle until he has the entire picture.
“Yep.” He waits for Izuku to dissolve into tears. This is the moment he’s been looking forward to all day. The magazine is another step up in his romantic game, the most involved of his efforts so far. Izuku is going to cry for sure, praising Katsuki and letting him know how wonderful he did. Then they’ll kiss, Izuku will tell him they don’t need to court anymore, and they’ll end the day with a nice scenting session in lieu of an actual marking, a ceremonial end to the courting.
Now he just needs Izuku’s predictable sobbing to kick this off properly.
“…Alpha.” That word comes out as a ragged pant, a plea if Katsuki ever heard one. It is a sound so far removed from a sob that it snags Katsuki’s full attention, causing him to freeze.
He squeezes the phone tight enough to make the plastic creak in his hand, listening intently.
“Get here. Now.”
The call cuts off, and Katsuki is already moving. There’s no hesitation in his gait as he leaps to the nearest rooftop and blasts towards the agency. It’d probably be faster to go on foot—he’s only a block away—but his brain isn’t firing on all cylinders as he propels himself at full speed towards the shining tower.
He knows the exact window that belongs to their office, stares a hole at it as he drops from the nearby rooftop back to the ground. He wants to blast himself through it, but that’d draw too much attention from their coworkers. He needs stealth right now, he needs to get there, immediately.
Because he knows what that word means. It only ever slips from Izuku’s lips half-choked, carried on a ragged pant.
His mate only ever calls him alpha in the bedroom.
“Fuck!” he snaps as he pounds his index finger into the elevator button. His damn patch burns over his scent gland, and without thinking too much, he rips it off.
It’s about time to change it, anyway, he reasons. Truth is, the alpha in him can’t stand that his pheromones are being blocked. And that alpha is riled up, as tense as a lion pacing its too small cage, waiting for the right moment to escape.
It takes forever for the elevator to carry him to the floor they work on, but finally the doors eventually slide open with a pleasant chime. Katsuki somehow manages not to streak through them. The last thing he wants is unnecessary attention as he hurries across the floor, moving toward their shared office door.
A strategy he almost ruins when someone gets a little too close to him as he’s passing by.
Katsuki snaps. “Watch it!”
His aggression is unwarranted, but somehow he restrains himself from pushing them bodily out of the way. This random extra is between him and his mate… the alpha in him screams at Katsuki to knock his lights out, to get to Izuku as soon as possible.
Instead, he draws in a deep breath, blowing it out forcefully. “Sorry,” he spits the word out, brushing past before he says anything he’ll regret. Stupid alpha hindbrain. Dumb instincts. He needs to take back control, he needs to—
Then his straining ears pick up the sound of Izuku gasping as he pauses in front of their office door. He turns the knob—unlocked, he cannot believe it’s freaking unlocked— and picks up on a faint moan that makes the blood in his body rush south.
Fuck. What is he doing?!
He’s quick to swing open the door, and just as fast to shut it behind him, blocking out the rest of the world. A temporary measure, nowhere near good enough. As he steps further inside, he makes no attempt to hide his presence, all but announcing it as he lets his pheromones flood the room. Izuku doesn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in what he’s doing.
And what he’s doing is a thing of beauty.
The omega is sitting in his office chair, legs bent and pulled close to his body, giving his hands better access. They’re busy violating the “no touching” rule, two fingers buried knuckle-deep inside of him. He watches, fascinated as Izuku brings up one of Katsuki’s clean workout shirts, inhaling deeply.
The smell of slick and arousal is heavy in the air, instantly putting Katsuki on high alert. Adrenaline makes his mind sharp, his thoughts narrow to a single point. All he cares about now is one thing—Izuku.
Get to him. Protect him. Breed him.
He locks the door behind him, the deadbolt slamming home with a finality that has him rumbling in delight.
“Couldn’t wait for me?” His voice sounds rusted over, completely raw as he approaches Izuku. The closer angle gives him an even better view of his omega, naked from the waist down, boxers tangled around one ankle, legs spread just far enough for him to finger himself.
It was like he was in a mad rush to open that glistening hole for Katsuki. Like he couldn’t hold back anymore, just aching to touch himself.
Katsuki’s cock swells in his pants, the fabric pulling tight instantly.
“Kacchan. I’m going into… into…” He can’t finish his sentence, moaning instead as his fingers rhythmically thrust in and out.
All five of Katsuki’s senses are heightened. He drinks in the sight of Izuku like a man lost in the desert, about to die from thirst. Each twitch of his muscles down to the knit in his brow is etched into his mind. But sight is nothing compared to sound or smell.
The squelch and the scent of his slick is so goddamn erotic that Katsuki can barely contain himself.
Yanking off a glove with his teeth, Katsuki braces his other hand on the chair, leaning forward to add one of his own digits alongside the two Izuku has frantically working himself open. He shudders at how greedily Izuku’s hole takes it in, expanding to allow him access without any trouble at all.
“Heat?” he asks sharply, the opposite of the drunken slur that Izuku can barely manage to force out. His eyes scan over Izuku’s face, taking in that deep pink blush of his cheeks and the glazed look in his green eyes. Yep. Heat.
It’s early, too. Must be a side effect of the courting.
“Goddammit.”
“S’wrong?” Anxiety causes Izuku’s brow to knit and his teeth to worry his bottom lip.
“Nothing,” he reassures. On the surface, he’s rock-steady. Internally, he’s starting to panic a little. There’s no way he won’t go into rut, not with how pent-up he’s been lately. And with Izuku, spread out in front of him, just begging for his cock? He may not even make it to the end of round one before he’s fully lost to instinct.
Gruffly, Katsuki declares, “A quickie and then I have to get you back home.”
The third digit is making Izuku unintelligible, his head lolling back as he shudders out another moan. Still, he manages to plead, “Need your knot.”
Katsuki’s mind is becoming so laser focused that he’s starting to forget anything besides the all-consuming need to thrust himself to the hilt inside of his omega. His thoughts dwindle further. Fuck him. Knot him.
Shit, he is going into rut, isn’t he?
“Dammit. We need to get home.” But his statement doesn’t ring with sincerity when he’s actively undoing his belt at the same time. He pushes his pants down just far enough for him to be able to force his cock out—it’s heavy and hard, raring to go. Just like he is.
“Alpha,” Izuku sighs happily, lost. He finally extracts his fingers, switching to grip the back of the chair instead. Blinking up at Katsuki, he wordlessly begs for him.
Crouching slightly so he can line himself up against that fluttering hole, Katsuki pushes his cock past the rim, sliding in as deep as he can go. The slick makes it all too easy, and Katsuki can feel his sanity begin to buckle as he sinks in deep.
Izuku mewls beneath him.
“Goddamn. You’re so fucking…” He’s panting, his head spinning as he withdraws a few inches, driving his dick back into that wonderful, all-encompassing heat. Izuku, wonderful Izuku, rolls his hips to meet him.
Katsuki stares at his omega, enthralled. He drinks in that pure look of ecstasy written on his face; the flutter of his lashes as his eyes roll back, the twitch of his mouth as he gasps. Katsuki dives forward to taste that bliss, too, capturing Izuku’s lips in a kiss.
“…beautiful,” he finishes when they part. What a fucking sap he’s become. It’s a good thing Izuku is basically out of it at this point, because he’s almost embarrassed with how corny that sounded.
It’s a little easier to swallow when he slams his hips repeatedly into Izuku’s round ass, hard enough to make a satisfying, audible slap.
“H-harder,” Izuku whines, and Katsuki obeys.
Fucking him in the chair lasts approximately two minutes before he nearly breaks it with his frantic rhythm. Hissing in annoyance, he clears off the desk with a sweep of his arm and gently tosses Izuku on the surface.
Yes, this angle is much better. He still gets to view his omega’s slutty expressions as he pounds into him, but now he gets the added benefit of reaching his deepest parts, too. The need to claim drives him. This part of Izuku belongs to him and him alone. He wants Izuku’s body to memorize the shape of him, to only desire him, ever.
The alpha hindbrain that’s in the driver’s seat right now is determined. When he’s through, Izuku won’t be able to get off unless Katsuki’s cock is buried inside of him.
“Izuku…!” He hisses the name through gritted teeth, relinquishing the tight grip on his waist to grab Izuku’s chin. Despite his desperation, Katsuki’s touch is gentle. “Look at me.”
As in sync as they are right now, Katsuki knows they’ll both finish at the same time. He wants to watch Izuku come, wants to feel the omega clench around him when the orgasm rolls through him and see his face as Katsuki pops his knot.
Fuck! No. Can’t knot him. Not here! The rational side of him is screaming, but instincts are running the show now, as evidenced by the telltale itch of his gums. He bares his teeth, gaze locking onto the column of Izuku’s neck. Bite him. Claim him.
His hand is shaking as he turns Izuku’s head, bringing the other’s scent gland into view. He made his mark here years ago, a perfect ring etched around the gland, showing the world that Izuku belongs to him. The similar mark on his own neck seems to tingle, the memory of blunted omega fangs not something he’ll ever forget.
Until this moment, he’s never felt the urge to sink his teeth into that freckled flesh again. Now, it’s all he can think about.
“Mark me, alpha,” Izuku murmurs. His voice is clear, the fog of heat dissipating for a moment. He sounds completely sure of himself, his green gaze locking with Katsuki’s.
“Make me yours.” He utters that statement like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t immediately make Katsuki want to fuck him so hard, he can’t walk straight for a week. It’s murmured sweetly, too, just before he lets out an obscene, choked off little moan.
For a second, Katsuki’s vision flashes red. Then the last of his hesitation burns away as he drags his canines across the ridge of the old scars, making sure to line up perfectly before he sinks his teeth in fully. The tang of iron floods his mouth, but there’s Izuku’s scent below it, becoming stronger until it takes over—that earthy, sweet taste which only belongs to his mate, that scent that Katsuki could pick out of a million others, the one he breathes in all day and night.
Izuku. His mate.
Beneath him, he feels Izuku go taut, clenching hard as Katsuki penetrates him from above and below. The alpha keeps his jaw clamped tight, refusing to let go until he’s sure the mark is deep, permanent.
Mine.
Izuku is heaven around him, squeezing his dick like he’s trying to pull Katsuki in even deeper, his legs wrapping around his waist. He’s tight and hot and Katsuki half-wonders if he’s melting where they’re connected. If he could, he would stay forever like this, butting against the height of pleasure, forever entangled. But then a long second passes and the omega spasms hard beneath him, clenching and unclenching as he’s rocked by his release.
Katsuki comes simultaneously, spilling inside of him with a drawn out groan. The desire to knot is more intense than ever before, almost beyond his ability to control. But then there’s an even stronger instinct kicking up as the orgasm crests and falls, urgent and demanding, drowning out all other thoughts.
With that last deep breath he sucked in, he caught the scents of others around them. Only a thin door and four walls away. Way too fucking close to his newly marked, vulnerable omega.
His eyes dart wildly, trying to locate any threats as adrenaline rushes through his veins. It cuts through the pleasure, like ice water being poured down his sweaty back, forcing his attention to his surroundings. In a flash, he goes from the deepest throes of ecstasy to a snarling animal, lost to instinct.
“Kacchan, Kacchan…” Izuku calls, and his fingers are raking through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp. He’s cooing softly, attempting to calm. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
Katsuki jolts when he realizes that he’s growling so hard, his entire torso is vibrating with the sound. As he tries to sort out what’s happening, his breath comes in sharp pants through his nose, blowing over the skin of Izuku’s neck. That scent he’s tasting becomes subtle, soothing.
“You’re going into rut,” Izuku explains calmly, rubbing slow circles on his back. “I’m in heat already. We need to get home before the next wave comes. But you—ah!—need to quit biting me first. It’s starting to hurt, Kacchan.”
Katsuki is having trouble processing, but hears the whimper in Izuku’s request. He finally releases his aching jaw, tongue laving apologetically over the raw, tender bite mark. He winces as he touches it delicately.
“Bandages…” he manages to grunt, fumbling at the desk drawer to his right. His hands seem to move without his direction, though they don’t come up with anything useful. He can barely focus.
“Forget it, Kacchan. We have to do it later.” Izuku groans as he raises himself onto his elbows, peering the long way down to where they’re still joined. “Oh good, you didn’t knot me.”
Katsuki lets out an annoyed growl.
“Sorry, sorry… I remember begging for it. Good thing you didn’t listen to me.” Gently, he pushes against Katsuki’s chest, urging him to move back.
Katsuki doesn’t budge.
“C’mon, Kacchan,” he pleads. With his quirk, he has more than enough power to force the alpha off of him. It’s a massive stroke to Katsuki’s ego when he doesn’t, squeezing Katsuki lightly with his thighs. “The faster you get me home, the faster we can start the next round.”
It’s tempting, but it’s not what Katsuki wants to hear.
Izuku relents, winding his arms around Katsuki’s neck and pulling himself up until he’s near vertical. Nudging Katsuki’s nose with his own, he purrs, “You did so well, Kacchan. Always taking care of me. You’re the best alpha. My alpha.”
“Damn straight.” He’s still bracing himself on the desk with one hand. The other comes up to settle on Izuku’s lower back, supporting.
Soft lips touch his own, Izuku nipping lightly at his mouth. “I love you, Kacchan. So good to me.”
He wishes his brain wasn’t mush right now, aware that whatever is about to come tumbling out of his mouth is going to sound stupid. Still, the alpha part of him won’t let them leave until he knows.
“…court you.”
“What was that?” Izuku asks, tilting his head as he peers at Katsuki through his lashes.
Katsuki can see that the pink is starting to flare back in his cheeks. They don’t have long if they want to get home on time, their window of clarity beginning to close.
“Did I court you?” He grimaces, having just enough wherewithal to remember to be embarrassed. “Was it good?”
“Oh!” Green eyes widen, his mouth falling open in surprise. Then those lips tug up into a grin. “Yes, you did! Kacchan, it was amazing.”
Katsuki lets out a pleased rumble, allowing himself one last moment of affection before he gathers the fragments of his sanity and finds a way to get them home quickly.
Just as he closes his eyes, leaning in to take a final kiss, he catches a glimpse of Izuku’s face beaming at him from the cover of Heroes Weekly. The magazine sits on the floor, knocked over from when Katsuki cleared the desk some minutes ago. Normally, it’s where the magazine belongs. Better yet, it should be in the trash. But Katsuki takes a mental note to take it with them when they leave.
This one features a five page article on the hottest, most badass omega hero in the country. His mate. His Izuku.
He’ll have to get it framed.