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Freedom in Fulfillment

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There are two types of omegas, aren’t there?

The type that stays at home. The perfect wife and mother, a demure little thing that does as told in the streets, but turns into a monster in their heats, begging and demanding to get the shit fucked outta them until they pass out, blissful and content.

Then there are the others. The ones who are that monster all the time.

Most of them are like that. That’s their natural state, he was told in health class in high school. Omegas are just like that. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, or to look down on. That’s just how they are. It’s natural. Being Bond Fulfilled is natural, and good, and something essential to their society.

From childhood though, Bakugo hadn’t had to worry about it. He was going to be an alpha, no doubt in his mind. He acted like one, he looked like one, and fuck, he wanted to be one and he always got what he fucking wanted!  Heroes are usually alphas, so it was just one small part of the vision he had for his life. Be a badass hero, be an alpha.

Alphas like omegas, so when he grew up he began to be attracted to them, almost as if by expectation. He was attracted to their slender bodies, their bright eyes and soft skin and red mouths. To the way they cried, and begged and pleaded with their non-words in the porn videos he watched when he wanted to quickly jerk off. He liked how slutty they were. That they’d come on a hair trigger, that they were desperate for cock and cum and pussy and just to be held in any way possible.

Here’s the thing, though.

Bakugo wanted to fuck an omega, but he’d never want to be one. As much as sympathetic sounding adults told them that it wasn’t anything bad, that omegas were vital members of society, no one wanted to be one.

Then again, he can’t say he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on the first day that he sees blood in his underwear. 

He returns to his room from the bathroom and sits on the floor. Pushes his face into the sheets at the side of his bed and curls his hands around the frame of his bed. It’s suffocating, but it’s better than doing what he knows he will if he faces the open air. 

He’ll scream. He’ll sob and cry and destroy everything around him because this is it - this is the moment when he knows his life is over. No more being a hero. No more being a fucking… functional human. He wants to explode. Wants to light everything up, disappear into the ash and smoke and never be seen again, because this is the confirmation of something he’s been scared of for weeks.

The stomach pains. Stabbing and aching in turn. Cramps. Hot flashes and weird sensations and a curious, crawling feeling deep in his gut. He’d held out on going to the doctor for all this time, hoping desperately for it to go away, because he’s that age, and they’ve all been told what to look out for. A classmate might be an omega if…

...if they’re Bakugo Katsuki, apparently.

He can’t tell anyone. The doctor would turn him in and he’d be taken away somewhere to await the process that would literally (well, almost literally) fuck his brains out. He would be that person he’d jerked off to so many times. That desperate, needy little cocksucker, good for nothing more than public fucking service.

Fuck being a hero, he wouldn’t even be a person.

He’s so fucking scared. Scared of what could happen. What will happen. What he’ll become.

He cries for a long time, until his sheets are stained with it and his mouth is dry and his hands hurt from the way he’s been gripping the wooden bed frame beneath his fingers. But he needs to pull himself together because he’s still fucking bleeding and he knows that there’s going to be a new hole there soon and this is something that can’t be changed. It can’t. It isn’t something he can fight his way out of because this is his body and it’s as intrinsic to him as the goddamn quirk he’d built his life around.

Bakugo sits back a little, sucking in a breath of fresh air that at last isn’t filtered past his duvet cover. At this stage, there are those two options, because society doesn’t tolerate an omega that tries to escape their fate and if he runs he’ll be running forever.

  1. To be an omega who loves one alpha
  2. To be an omega who loves everyone

But it’s not love in either case, is it? It’s desperation and dependency. This is a lesser-of-two-evils situation. Does he choose one person, or everyone?

Well it’s fucking obvious, isn’t it? Only one of those options allows him to keep his goddamn mind!

Of course, there is another option.

  1. Self-destruct

But that’s a last resort.

He licks his lips. They’re cracked. 

The presentation has already been going on for weeks - months? He hadn’t been keeping track - so he has a limited amount of time to make a decision on what to do. The presentation ends with his first heat, during which time he’ll be an incoherent mess. That means that before then, he has to find an alpha to bond with him, to claim him as soon as it’s done and his new status is certain.

It’s not as easy as just asking around though - if anyone finds out that he’s presenting or that he’s in heat, he’ll be taken away to await being Fulfilled. 

And of course... the other complicating factor is that he needs someone he’s going to be able to put up with for the remainder of his life - and who would want him back - which really only leaves him with a couple of options.

Option A is obviously one Todoroki Shouto

An alpha and an alright guy - even if he won’t claim Bakugo, it’s not like he’d squeal on him. 

The problem is that Bakugo himself has never thought of Todoroki as a sexual partner, so what are the chances that Todoroki’s been secretly pining over him? Low. Especially since Todoroki likely assumes, along with everyone else, that Bakugo is eventually going to present as an alpha. For all the sexual preferences in the world, alpha/alpha is one of the rarest. Too much aggression in one bedroom.

But maybe this new information would make Todoroki see him in a new light? He can only hope. 

This is it, he has to do it, because failure means death. Maybe not of his body, but of his spirit, and in some ways that’s a worse fate to suffer.



He wishes he could take his time to psych himself up for what is sure to be a traumatic conversation, but he has no idea when presentation will be done and when he’ll turn into a useless size queen. 

So the next day he dresses himself up in his best-looking clothes, the tightest ones, the ones that show off how slim he is, and goes to Todoroki’s room. He tries to ignore the feeling of the toilet paper he’s got stuffed in his underwear so that he doesn’t bleed through - there’s been no time and no way for him to buy “feminine products” without raising suspicion. 

Of course the bastard takes forever to answer the goddamn door, leaving him waiting awkwardly in the hallway, praying that Deku doesn’t walk by. 

“Oh,” says Todoroki when he sees him, blinking stupidly down at his face, “Bakugo. What do you want?”

“Let me in and I’ll tell you,” Bakugo says.

They’ve been on internships, in class and practicals and dragged along to social events together for years. They know one another. That’s probably why Todoroki doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t question the demand and just lets him in, shutting the door behind them. He obviously recognizes that it’s serious. Bakugo’s glad that at least that part went right.

They sit, facing one another, cross legged on the tatami. The position hurts Bakugo’s...newly forming parts, so he has to shift, bring his knees in closer together. 

Todoroki just looks at him. There’s a steaming cup over on his table, next to an open book. Must have been studying. 

The silence drags on. Bakugo wills himself to stop being such a pussy, but it’s hard. It’s hard to tell someone that you’re essentially the equivalent of a leper. Well, no, that’s not right. You’re like...a precious gem, something everyone wants to own…? No, that’s not right either. How the fuck do you metaphor this shit…?

“What do you need, Bakugo?” Todoroki says.

Bakugo huffs, averts his gaze somewhere up on the ceiling, “Swear to me that what I’m about to tell you stays between us.”


“I’m about to tell you a secret.” Bakugo swallows, “And you cannot tell another living soul about this, you understand?”

“Not even -”

“No, not even Deku!” Bakugo snaps, looking back at him. Fuck, this guy is such a moron - this is the horse to which he’s chosen to hitch his cart? God help him. “You swear?”

“I promise,” says Todoroki, “Though I’m not sure why you’re coming to me.”

“Me neither,” grumbles Bakugo, but he clears his throat. “Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it, and I need you just to fucking - think about what I’m saying. Don’t just say the first dumbass thing that comes to your brain.”

“You’re being very demanding,” deadpans Todoroki. “I’m not sure that I need to --”

“I’m an omega,” hisses Bakugo, “Or at least, I will be, in the next couple of weeks.”

That shuts him up. Todoroki’s mismatched eyes are round, and his mouth drifts open into a stupefied expression. Which one of them here is the omega? At least he isn’t interrupting anymore.

“I’m presenting. Probably almost done.” Bakugo’s voice is sticking in his throat, “I need someone to claim me when I’m done my heat.”

A long silence, and then, “You -- what --??”

“You heard me. I need -- if I don’t bond with someone as soon as my heat’s done, they’re gonna Fulfill me and then I’ll be -- you know…”

Todoroki nods slowly. Of course he knows, they all know. But the question is how he feels about it. It isn’t good, given that the next thing he says is, “If you are an omega, isn’t that the best thing for you?”

Bakugo has to clamp down on the rage that threatens to rise up, “What’d I tell you about saying stupid shit?”

“How is that stupid?” Todoroki snaps, “You know as well as I do that it’s a natural process. Plus it’s the law, isn’t it?”

“It’s the law that it should be done to unclaimed omegas,” says Bakugo, “But they never specify how long an omega has to be unclaimed for it to happen. It used to be longer. You remember history class, right? It used to be they had a few years before they got Fulfilled.”


“They only changed it recently.” As omegas had become rarer, a commodity, society had decided, somehow, that they needed to be shared with everyone. It wasn’t fair, people had argued. Some alphas had their own omegas, but so many others had to suffer their ruts alone and in agony, never to know the touch of a person so perfectly matched to them that nature had dictated that they be together. There needed to be more unmatched omegas available. And unmatched means Fulfilled. 

“You can’t say that omegas don’t seem happy to be Fulfilled.” says Todoroki.

“Sure, other omegas might be happy. But you fucking know me. You know what I’m like and what I want. You know I could never be happy like that, no matter what hormones I’ve got flowing through me.”

Todoroki seems to consider this carefully, sitting back a little and pressing his chin into the palm of his hand. Bakugo lets him think. “So you want me to claim you before anyone else gets to you and Fulfills you?”

“That’s right,” says Bakugo.

“Why me? Why not Kirishima-kun, isn’t he your best friend?”

“Beta, dumbass.”

“Or --”

“If you suggest Deku I’ll blow your face off.”

Todoroki presses his lips together into a thin line. “Alright, so I’m your best option. But why would I -- we aren’t that close.”

Bakugo grins a little. He’s making progress, and this is something he’s thought about how to sell. “Think about it. Instead of being in a relationship with some random beta, visiting an omega house to fuck your rut out with some mindless slutbag every few months, you could have your own omega. A virgin, yours only. You’d be able to stick your knot in me any time you wanted, and you’d never. have. to. share.”

He sees Todoroki swallow heavily. Ah, that’s it Todoroki. Embrace your natural possessiveness. 

“And, if that’s not enough; you’d saving my life. Saving my mind from being fucked out of my head. You’d be a hero to me.”

Todoroki seems to consider this, “And you’d want to be in a relationship with me?”

“I mean, it’s a better fucking option than anything else,” Bakugo tells him honestly, “Either I’m a cumdump for everyone or I’m precious to you. Maybe we end up developing more feelings for one another. Maybe you end up in a relationship with a random beta like you would have if I didn’t offer you this, and have me on the side. Either way, you lose nothing.”

A nod. Todoroki understands. “This is a big decision,” he says, “You need to give me some time to think about it.”

“Sure,” says Bakugo and stands, running hands down over his chest and stomach to smooth out his shirt. “But you don’t have long. If I suddenly go off sick from school, you’ll know I’m in my heat. If we’ve gotten to that point and you haven’t given me a no, I’ll assume it’s a yes. I need you to come through for me if that happens because I won’t be able to ask anyone else.”

“Right,” says Todoroki. “How long --?”

“No idea,” says Bakugo, “But I wouldn’t take longer than the rest of the week to decide.”



It gets more painful. He manages to buy some sanitary napkins at a corner store, hood up and scarf on to hide his face, and uses those to soak up any blood from his painful presentation. 

Practicals suck. Everything aches so badly, especially his groin, and certain movements makes the pain stab into his gut with an intensity so bad it feels like he’s moments from death’s door. 

The worst thing is that he could get pain medication to deal with it, if he didn’t care about the subsequent activities he’d be forced to do. Instead he suffers through with a couple of ibuprofen every few hours. 

Things start to smell weird. People smell stronger. Alphas smell better. 

His skin starts to itch, to ache for the touch of another person. He yearns to be held, thinks about it every night as he wraps his covers tight around him. He starts to feel dependent on other people’s attention. Even Deku’s stupid, starry-eyed smile starts to make him feel gooey. It’s gross.

It becomes hard to focus in class. He’s hot all over, aching to be touched and loved and cuddled and kissed and fuc -- 

No. No, he has to keep it together. For the sake of his goddamn future he has to keep it together. He needs to make it to the end of his heat and let Todoroki claim him so that he can hold onto just the slivers of a normal life. He can find a way to be a hero afterwards. It’s never been done before but...he’ll make it happen. If anyone can, it’s him. But if he gets Fulfilled? Well, there’s no coming back from that.

Unfortunately… increased pain tolerance is not one of the changes that comes along with presenting as an omega. And so it is that a week after Bakugo had had that mortifying conversation with Todoroki, that a stab of pain goes through him that’s so intense that it brings him to his knees. 

“Woah, Bakugo, you okay?” asks Kirishima immediately, dropping to a crouch beside him. They’re in the common room, not a great place to drop. “Do you need me to call the nurse?”

Bakugo tries desperately to get any glimmers of pain off his face so that it sounds ever so slightly less like bullshit when he replies, “No, I just tripped. You always call the doctor when you stumble over your own gigantic feet?”

“Gee, someone’s salty,” says Kaminari, but Kirishima just grins. Grins, stands, and offers Bakugo a hand. He doesn’t want to take it. He want to stay down here, desperately curled around the epicentre of his pain, clutching at it as if that’ll help make it go away faster.

He bites the inside of his cheek and lets Kirishima pull him to his feet. As he turns, he sees both Deku and Todoroki staring at him, radically different expressions on their faces. Todoroki, concerned. He knows what’s going on and he’s worried.

Deku, confused. He’s thinking about it. He’s trying to add stuff up. Bakugo wonders what other tells he’s given. Deku is dangerous because he’s observant and… kind of… smart-ish… at least when it comes to over-analyzing things. Deku could figure it out, even with very little guiding information. So, to break the train of thought, Bakugo snaps at him, “Oi, Deku, stop fucking staring at me. What, you looking down on me because I tripped one time?”

“N-no Kacchan! Never,” squeaks Deku as Bakugo “storms off”. In reality, he’s too tired to even be mad. He just wants to go to bed.



The pain gets so bad he starts throwing up. It’s always very slow to build, a deep, aching pain like cramps but so much worse, that builds and builds until he’s hot and sweating and nauseated. Then he throws up. The first couple of times aren’t so bad (as non-bad as throwing up from pain can be, anyway) because they’re when he’s in his room. It’s worse when it happens during class.

“Aizawa-sensei,” he says, his hand shooting up in the middle of a lecture. There’s sweat dripping down his back. He’s so dizzy he’s a little worried about managing the walk out of here to get to the bathroom. He feels like someone has stabbed a knife into his gut and is twisting


“I’m going to the bathroom.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrow at him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he grunts, and gets up. He sees when he gets to the bathroom why Aizawa had asked him. He looks awful, grey and pale and sweaty. He looks sick. Deathly sick. Like he could drop at any second. 

There isn’t time to contemplate it much, his stomach is still churning and he needs to empty it. He throws up, washes his hands and his face and rinses his mouth. He hates this. He can’t wait ’til it’s over.

(But he can. Because what comes next is worse.)



He’s close to the end. He can feel it. He’s stopped bleeding (though he hasn’t stopped hurting) and he’s started secreting…something else… down there. He thinks he might even get away with it. Might manage to make it to his heat wherein he’ll pretend he has the flu and call out of every single class.

But he doesn’t. Because one day, in the middle of practicals, he straight up drops. It’s mid-sprint. He crashes into the ground with bruising force.

He comes to as someone is pulling him up into their arms. A moment later, shouting, calling for the teachers, and Bakugo tries to tell them to stop, that he’s okay, but he feels too ill and he’s worried he might vomit if he opens his mouth. Through his half-open eyes, the world spins and spins without pause, tilting on its axis in a sickening display of light and colour. “Kacchan,” someone is saying. Deku, obviously, “It’s okay, you’ll be alright.”

“Fuck off,” he groans.

Deku laughs, “Guess you must be alright if you’re able to say that.”

But he isn’t. He’s sinking down into the grey edges of his vision again. He’s going to pass out.

The next time he opens his eyes, he’s in the infirmary. And nothing hurts. They’ve done something to him. Given him meds.

They know.

His blood turns to ice at the thought. Quickly, he sits up, pushing off the sheets and attempting to swing his legs over the edge of the mattress. He doesn’t even manage that before someone snaps at him. “Bakugo, get back into bed.”

“I’m fine,” he tells Aizawa, who has materialized at the edge of the curtain surrounding his little area. “I was just tired.”

“Cut the shit,” says Aizawa, sighing. He sounds tired. He always sounds tired. It’s accompanied by a sigh. “You know why you’re here.”

Bakugo pauses for a moment, licks his lips. Should he admit to it? That’d be a death sentence. “No,” he says instead, “Like I said, I was tired. Passed out during practicals because I didn’t get enough sleep.”

Aizawa rolls his eyes. “You know that it isn’t good for you to go through all that on your own? You can suffer serious side effects by going through presentation without supervision. You should have told someone.”

Fuck. Cat’s out of the bag. “You should know why I didn’t!”

Nonchalantly, Aizawa shrugs, “Not really.”

“Are you kidding?” Bakugo shouts. He feels sick again but this time it’s with rage, “Are you fucking kidding me? You expect that I’d tell someone I’m going to be an omega when it means that some dipshit with a knot is going to fuck me until I’m a brain-dead zombie?”

Another sigh. Aizawa enters the vicinity of Bakugo’s bed, dropping heavily into the chair beside it. “Look, I get it. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed too.”


“It’s a waste. You would have been a great hero. And you know I’m not just saying that. You would have.”

“I still can be!”

A breathy laugh. Aizawa reaches up to fix the covers, to pull them a little higher onto Bakugo’s lap. He pats it, then, his thigh. “You know you can’t.”

Bakugo hadn’t even noticed the world going misty until he blinks, and the tears overflow. They run down his cheeks in thick streams. When he speaks again, his voice cracks pathetically, “Why not?”

Aizawa leans forward, forearms on his knees. The bags underneath his eyes are dark, crinkled in deep lines. Quietly, in a voice so level that it makes Bakugo’s stomach turn, he says, “You know why, Bakugo. You know what needs to be done.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” croaks Bakugo, “You could let me be bonded.”

“Trust me,” says Aizawa, “That’s not what’s best for you. I’m sorry that it’s not what you wanted to hear, but you will be Fulfilled, Bakugo, and you will help a lot of people once it’s done.”



He isn’t allowed to stay in his room, nor even in a regular omega house, which has rooms for omegas in the process of presenting. Too insecure to hold him, they say, which is something of a compliment. Instead he’s confined in a cell located somewhere beneath the UA campus. He can’t imagine why they have them. Because of people like him? Heroes-in-training who present? Or for villains who might attack them and need to be held until the police can take them into custody?

Either way, he doesn’t take it lying down. He tries to escape, oh he tries. He blasts everything to pieces, tries to work his way through the reinforced walls. It doesn’t work.

At night, when he’s done, when his hands and arms are throbbing and sore, his fingers cracked and dry and bleeding, he curls up into the single bed. He wraps his blankets around himself as tight as they’ll go and cries into his pillow. It hurts so bad - not his body, not anymore, they’re giving him painkillers - but something inside. It’s the loss. He’s grieving. Grieving the loss of himself.

It’s a fatal disease, this presentation. There’s no cure, not unless someone saves him.

He hopes every day that someone will.

No one does.

He calls his parents, one day, when the pain stops and the warmth starts. He needs something. Desperately so. It can only be one thing. His heat is coming.

He tries to ignore it. His fingers tremble as he dials the numbers. Tears burn hot in his eyes. His voice completely breaks as he greets, “Hey mom.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, and then, “Hey brat.”

He sighs, “I’m…I’m calling cuz I’m…”

“I know,” she says. Her voice catches too. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it.”

He sniffs heavily, wetly. “Mom, I’m scared.”

“I know, baby. I know. I wish I could…get you out of there. I wish you’d told us sooner so I could have held you one last time.”

“Me too,” he says. “I thought I could wait it out. That if I made it through my heat I could get someone to claim me and then I wouldn’t have to — you know —”

A long pause. And then, his Dad’s voice, quiet, steady. His mom must have called him over. “Hey kiddo.”

“I love you,” cries Bakugo. “I love you both.”

“We love you too.”

“I’m not ready to go,” he sobs, “I’m not ready for my life to be over. I’m only eighteen.”

“Baby,” says his Mom, softer than he’s ever heard her, “It’ll be okay. You’re not done. You’re not dying. It’s just… it’s just a new chapter of your life. Different, but not bad.”

He has to wipe his tears away with the back of his wrist. “How can you say that?”

His father, “Because some things just…are. And it’s better to accept them because if you don’t, you can never be happy again.”

“You’re stronger than anyone I know,” says Mitsuki, “And trust me, you’ve pissed me off more than a few times with your stubbornness, your determination. Now it’s time to take that stubbornness into the next phase. Be stubborn. Stubbornly cling to happiness. We love you, Katsuki, we always have and we always will. Be good.”

They talk for a while, about nothing and everything, sharing memories and stories. It feels like a eulogy, only he’s still alive to hear it, and isn’t that the worst? Being able to say goodbye?

He cries for a long time after he hangs up, his heart utterly and completely broken.



His heat is horrific. It feels…hot, as one might expect, but also there’s the feeling of irritation, of oversensitive skin that just won’t calm. He paws at himself frantically, rubbing hands up and down his arms, twining his fingers together, smoothing palms down his thighs, but it barely helps. If only someone else would… touch him. He knows it would make it go away. It’d have to, wouldn’t it?

It’s a facility in an official sense, so they don’t have someone come and fuck him through it. It’s probably illegal, if it isn’t just looked down on, to have someone fuck him non-consensually during heat. Being Bond Fulfilled is different, because that’s with a larger purpose, or something.

So they give him toys.

They are nowhere near enough to quench the fire that rages within him. He needs — he needs more — no matter how hard or fast he bounces on the dildo they gave him, no matter how much he jerks his cock, it’s never enough. It just makes it worse.

So by day three, he gives up, lies in his bed and holds himself and tries to savour the last few days he has as a free man.

And so, as the heat ebbs away, it isn’t relief he feels. It’s dread. This is it. He’s done, and everyone knows it. They’ve been testing his hormone levels every day, to keep track of where he’s at, and so on the morning he wakes up with a clear mind and skin that finally feels like it belongs to himself again, they arrive at his door.

It’s Aizawa, and a couple of other staff members.

“No,” he says. “You know if you do this, you’re killing me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Aizawa tells him, and it stings how nonchalant he is about this. Like it’s just something that happens every day. Maybe it is. Maybe enough students present omega at UA that this is just something they do. “Come on. It’s time.”

“Whatever you do is nonconsensual,” Bakugo warns him. He hasn’t gotten up from the bed. He won’t, they’ll have to drag him from the room.

“For now,” says Aizawa.

They forcibly remove him. Unfortunately, Aizawa is well-equipped to make that happen, maybe better than nearly anyone else in the world. Bakugo doesn’t go peacefully. He thrashes in the binds, tries to set off his quirk. Screams the whole way down the corridor, until his voice is hoarse. “Help me!” He shrieks, “I don’t want this! This is murder!”

No one seems to care. Some people shoot him a sympathetic look, but it isn’t one of horror, like he would have hoped. It’s a look you’d give a child, more like…they’re sympathetic because Bakugo is misguided. Like they know he’s making a big deal out of nothing. That this is a tantrum he’s going to realize later was foolish.

They get him in the room. It’s on the bigger side but without any windows, painted a dark raspberry colour that he assumes is to set the mood. There’s various sexual-looking equipment around the place, hanging ominously on the walls or laid on the many surfaces available to them in here. It’s a room that clearly offers flexibility, for the multitudes of people that have been in here, both as victims and perpetrators.

He’s crying as they wrestle him down onto the floor. “Why don’t you care that I don’t want this? Why are you going to do this to me, even though I say no? Aren’t you heroes?

“Omegas don’t realize what they want until they get it,” says Vlad. Bakugo hadn’t even noticed him, but there he is, holding Bakugo down with a broad hand to the back, “Lots of omegas are scared when this happens. I can’t blame you, you’re just a kid, you don’t know yet. But trust me, you’ll be so happy afterwards that you won’t know why you were so upset.”

“Because I’ll be too stupid to wonder,” sobs Bakugo into the linoleum of the floor. It’s a flooring that’s easy to clean, that must be why they chose it. His spit and tears stick to it as he weeps.

“Hey, kiddo,” says Vlad, and ruffles his hair, “I get it. Okay? But it’ll be alright. Just submit, and it’ll be over faster. It’s like… getting a shot. You know? You need it, it has to be done. It’ll hurt less if you relax.”

“That’s a terrible analogy,” says Aizawa. He’s rummaging for something out of Bakugo’s line of vision, but his bonds are still tight all the way around Bakugo’s body. Bakugo’s arms are starting to ache where they’re pinned against his sides.

“I’m trying to be reassuring,” says Vlad, sounding irritated. “You could try a little harder to make this less traumatic for him.”

“He’s not going to stop freaking out,” says Aizawa. “This is Bakugo Katsuki, you can’t reason with him. We just have to get it done.”

“I guess you know him best,” Vlad mumbles, patting Bakugo once more between the shoulder blades before standing.

They manhandle him up onto something flat, bending him forward at the waist. It’s a tricky operation, because as Aizawa removes each part of the winding scarf that keeps him under control, Bakugo immediately tries to lash out. He’s gratified to hear the teachers panting, and Vlad quietly gasping, “Jesus, this kid…” but he doesn’t manage to break free. Instead, they strap him down, leather over his wrists, his forearms, his back, his waist, his hips, and his ankles. He’s left in a raised kneeling position, legs spread and ass pointed out into the air.

It’s a breeding bench. He’s seen them in porn before, jerked off to the sight of a pretty omega tied down into a position that allows full access. His stomach sinks. There’s little chance he can break out of a position like this.

What else can he say? They aren’t listening but he has to try. The same thing he tried before, the same offer he’d made Todoroki, “Why not take me for yourself,” he says. He doesn’t add a name on, because he doesn’t really care which one might take him up on it “Have me as your own omega? Why Fulfill me when you could own me instead?”

“Fuck,” groans someone. Vlad, maybe.

“Why continue to visit omega houses on your ruts when you could have me at home waiting for you? You know me - I’m the best - what makes you think I wouldn’t be the best omega too, if you give me the fucking chance?”

“Bakugo,” says Aizawa, flatly. “Stop. You’re no good at this.”

Fingers curl around the waistband of the pyjama pants they’d given him to wear, and just like that, they and his underwear are yanked down over the curve of his ass. Down to his knees. He’s totally exposed.

Tears are dripping, hot and salty, down his face and pooling against the leather beneath his cheek. His voice hitches and cracks, “I don’t want to die,” he says, and it’s the worst thing he’s ever done. He’s going to go out without his pride intact, a little pussy-ass bitch who begged and pleaded at the end. But these are the good guys, aren’t they? Won’t they listen? “Please don’t.”

There are fingers prodding at him, at his asshole, then sliding down over the newly formed slit between his legs. They’re dry but warm. “You won’t die,” says Aizawa, and then, gently, a hand lays over his lower back. He sounds more reassuring than he ever has before, “Think about it this way… you aren’t the same as you were as a child. As you grew, you changed, but you wouldn’t say that the Bakugo Katsuki who was learning to walk, the one who ate sand and liked bugs and didn’t know anything about being a hero, is dead. This is the same. It’s a faster change, but it’s still going to be you.”

“I bet you’ll be strong as ever,” says Vlad, with a laugh. “I bet you’ll make the alphas beg you to get a taste of you. They will, you know. They’ll worship you.”

Bakugo screws his eyes shut tight. Tears seep out anyway. He doesn’t want to be worshipped for his cunt. He wants to be worshipped because of the things he does and the people he saves, not for something his body can do.

Carefully, a finger pokes at his new entrance, worming its way in until the tip of it is inside him. It feels so intensely unnatural that Bakugo’s skin crawls. There isn’t supposed to be something there. Even on his heat, he’d ever only stuck anything in his ass. He doesn’t want to know what it feels like to have his… other parts penetrated.

“Damn,” sighs Aizawa, sounding put out, “You didn’t fuck yourself here, you’re still a virgin.”

“I could be your virgin, if you want,” chokes Bakugo, in a strangled voice. He wishes it were Todoroki. That they were in his room, warm and wrapped in blankets that smell of them. Todoroki would take it slow - do exactly as Bakugo says - would suck him off to get him warmed up and let Bakugo take the lead. But Aizawa would be okay too. Better than the alternative.

“I can’t do that,” comes the reply. The fingers withdraw, only to return a moment later, lubricated and slick. That same digit sinks into him again, this time quickly all the way to the base. No. He’s touching something that shouldn’t exist. Bakugo feels sick.

There’s a snarling noise as the door swings open, a guttural and primal sound. “Good morning, Hound Dog,” greets Vlad. Bakugo doesn’t dare open his eyes. “He’s quite a handful.”

Footsteps and then a puff of hot air, two, three, as Hound Dog quite obviously breathes him in. “Heat’s done,” he growls, the words barely intelligible. “He’s ready.”

“How many of you are there gonna be?” Bakugo croaks.

“At least four,” says Aizawa. A second finger works its way in next to the first. It’s a tight fit and hurts, even with the lube. “We need that many to make sure your bonding mechanism is sufficiently overwhelmed.”

“And there’s no one else who can do it… people I don’t know at least? Or someone I choose?”

A breathy chuckle, “No, this is our responsibility as your teachers. Every alpha instructor is expected to participate in Fulfillment. UA is a big school, we have a few every year.”

Fingers twist around inside him. It doesn’t feel good. Is this supposed to feel good?

“Usually they aren’t as resistant as you,” says Aizawa, “Usually they tell us when presentation starts. They accept it.”

“How?” sobs Bakugo, “How could someone accept this?”

There’s no answer to that. They go quiet, chatting casually to one another about weather and class prep, as Aizawa works Bakugo open with his fingers. It sounds like just another day for them. The entire situation is just about as far from sexual for Bakugo as it is possible to be. It hurts, it’s awkward, he’s cold. There has certainly not been any effort to set a mood conducive to arousal.

But eventually, through sheer effort, Bakugo is stretched and slick from the lube, and Aizawa withdraws his hand and wipes it off on a towel. “He’s good.”

“Don’t —” begins Bakugo, but he can hear the sound of a zipper rasping open. Then the soft sound of flesh on flesh, rhythmic. His teacher is jerking himself off - what the fuck —

“You aren’t ready to go?” says Midnight. It’s the first female voice he’s heard in a while. But she’s an alpha, just as capable of fucking him as the rest of them. “Since when do you need to get yourself hard?”

“Shut up,” says Aizawa. “You’re late.”

“I’m not the latest though, not everyone is here,” she says. “And all I missed was the boring prep period.”

A huge sigh from Aizawa. The sound of jerking stops, and suddenly something hot and blunt is pressed against Bakugo’s pussy. “Wait,” he blurts. Aizawa starts to push forward. “Wait!” Bakugo shouts. “Don’t!”

Aizawa doesn’t listen and his cock slides forward slowly. It’s slick, but Bakugo is so tight that it’s obviously effort to get it in, and Aizawa pants over him as he tries to sink in all the way.

“Looks yummy,” croons Midnight. “How does it feel, Shouta?”

“Tight,” huffs Aizawa.

“Can’t wait.” It’s only half intelligible. Must be Hound Dog.

Bakugo wails. It hurts. That part of his body isn’t meant to be there. He doesn’t want this. The burn of it being pushed in too soon, when he isn’t aroused, is unpleasant and painful.

“Do we have a gag?” Aizawa asks.

“Come on,” says Midnight, “Enjoy his sounds. They’ll be pleasure soon enough.”

He can’t imagine it feeling good.

Aizawa eventually bottoms out. It feels horrific. Bakugo sobs against the padding of the bench, drool plastering his chin and cheeks and mouth to the leather. Fat tears roll down his cheeks, snot filling his nose. He’s disgusting.

“Hey now,” says Vlad, sounding very close, and Bakugo opens his eyes. The teacher is crouching beside the bench, smiling reassuringly. “You’re okay. You’re not going to be hurt. Just relax and it’ll go so much easier.”

“Don’t pretend you care,” sniffles Bakugo.

“I do, I promise. I’m sorry that you’re scared and that you’re hurting. You were never my student, but I don’t want to see you like this.” Vlad reaches up, with a handkerchief, and wipes Bakugo’s face, lets him blow his nose. “Just submit. You’ll be okay.”

Bakugo doesn’t. He never will. Vlad’s words do not reassure him. They galvanize him.

How dare this man say things like that. As if he knows him, as if he thinks that Bakugo will ever go down fucking easy. He grits his teeth.

“He just tightened up,” groans Aizawa.

His hands are buckled facing his head, but if he can twist his wrists, he can just about turn them down. He does, breaking the skin of his arms, turning his hands down onto the bench, and lighting them up. With an enormous crack, he splits the leather, and dark smoke plumes into the air.

Everyone swears. A moment later he feels the familiar weight of Aizawa’s gaze and his hands go dead. “Of course,” Bakugo snarls, “Fucking cowards won’t fight me.”

“That’s the Bakugo we know,” coos Midnight, “Gosh, his babies are going to be something, aren’t they?”

“I’m fucking something,” says Bakugo, “and you’re ruining me.” It’s a long time and many thrusts later, but Aizawa blinks, and in that split second, Bakugo is able to set off another blast. The entire structure beneath him wobbles. If he can break it, he can get free. And if he can put up a thick enough smokescreen, Aizawa won’t be able to see him.

One against four. It’s…doable. For the number one, it’s doable.

A hand wraps around his cock, slick and warm and rough. It starts to pull at him, as though that’ll be enough distraction to stop him from fucking shit up. Another blink and the instant it happens, the lighting mechanism Bakugo has been repeatedly firing finally catches and smashes right through the table. His wrists drop, hanging awkwardly from the restraints buckled around them.

A moment later, a hand comes down on his ass. He’s hit so hard that it burns in its intensity. “Fuck!” Bakugo shrieks.

He’s smacked again. “Calm,” smack! “Down!” Smack!

He doesn’t. The very next moment that Aizawa’s pupils are covered by his eyelids, he blows out another chunk of the bench. They’re small bursts - he can’t muster enough sweat in the fraction of a second that Aizawa’s eyes are closed to make a large explosion - but they’re enough to bust through the furniture.

“Good god,” says Midnight.

“Don’t put him out,” huffs Aizawa. He’s speeding up, his fingers digging into Bakugo’s hips hard enough to bruise. “It won’t take as well.”

“Fine,” she says. “He’ll lose it soon anyway.”

Lose what? His quirk? He feels sick.

“I’m close,” says Aizawa.

“You gonna knot him?”says Midnight, and Bakugo abruptly realizes how close she is to him when a finger traces down the curve of his cheek. She’s grinning. There’s no sense of regret from her, no sadness about what she has to do. She’s enjoying it, and the others are resigned at best.

“Of course,” huffs Aizawa, who had been one of the first adults in Bakugo’s life to believe in him. He spoke up for him when the villains had kidnapped him. He’d met Bakugo’s parents. He’d encouraged and supported him all the way through high school, and now he’s here in third year and one thing has changed…

Aizawa rams his knot into him, and with a deep, guttural groan, comes.

It’s too big! It fucking hurts!! “No,” he wails, trying to move away, to reduce the pain and sensation of being over-stretched. He can’t, there’s nowhere to go.

“Poor baby,” says Midnight, as Bakugo cries, hanging forward in his bonds like a rag doll. Having come inside him is even worse than he’d ever imagined. His teacher had just come inside him. How mortifying. How… it’s horrible. And he’s stuck in there now too, as Bakugo’s body automatically engages the muscle that wraps around Aizawa’s knot to hold him. He’s stuck tied to him for how long? Ten minutes at the least?

“He’s calmed down a little,” says Vlad.

“No I haven’t,” snarls Bakugo, all sharp teeth and vitriol. “I won’t.”

“You will,” says Hound Dog. Bakugo can just about see him from where he’s lying now, his face rest broken and awkward thanks to his destructive outbursts. Hound Dog looks hungry.

“Fuck you,” says Bakugo.

“No, fuck you,” says Hound Dog. “Can rrrrr — fuck his — nnnn —mouth?”

“Too soon for that,” says Vlad, “Pretty sure he’ll bite.”

A big hand runs smoothly down his back and then back up. It’s supposed to be reassuring, Bakugo thinks. It just makes his skin crawl.

“Might as well prep his ass while we’re waiting,” says Midnight, and she’s behind him now so Bakugo can’t see her, but he can sure as fuck hear the grin on her face.

“I already had to do his pussy,” complains Aizawa.

“Then if I do his ass, do I get first dibs?” Asks Midnight.

“We should all be using his vagina,” says Vlad. Bakugo hates that they’re giving names to the parts of him that shouldn’t exist. So clinical too. ‘Vagina.’

“Ass works too, just not as fast.”

Fingers rub against his asshole, which is still exposed, dipping inside with the help of copious amounts of lube. Aizawa keeps his eyes on him, but just for good measure, they tighten the restraints so that Bakugo’s hands are pointed directly at his own head.



Midnight fingers his asshole open while Aizawa is stuck in his cunt, which is easier than the first hole had been for a number of reasons - firstly he’s not a virgin in there, and secondly her fingers are smaller and smoother than Aizawa’s. It isn’t any less bad though. It’s still humiliating, painful and violating. And then when Aizawa finally pops free, he’s replaced by someone else, and Bakugo finds out that having his pussy pounded by Hound Dog is a whole lot worse than gently being fucked by Aizawa.

His fingers puncture the skin where they grip him, his hips slam into Bakugo’s ass with a loud smack on each thrust. His dick is so big, or long, or who fucking knows what shape because Bakugo hadn’t seen it before it’d gone into him, that he pummels Bakugo’s cervix, which aches with every impact.

No-one cares for his comfort, of course - he’d “best get used to it” - and Midnight pushes more and more fingers into his ass as he’s fucked into oblivion by this animal masquerading as a UA staff member. He feels so full that it hurts.

“Stop,” he cries, even though they’re not listening.

Hound Dog doesn’t last long. Creampies him, then tugs back uncomfortably as though trying to make sure that Bakugo’s holding his knot. He is, of course, because his body is a traitorous piece of shit.

Then…he bites him.

It’s sudden. A sudden warmth and weight along his back as Hound Dog leans forward, and then the bright pain of punctures in his neck. He breaks the skin of Bakugo’s trapezius muscle, an enormous oblong bite from his unusually shaped jaw, making sounds of pleasure as he licks the blood from the teeth marks.



Midnight eventually finishes working on his ass, but she still can’t access it while he’s in the breeding bench and Hound Dog is in his cunt, something which she complains about bitterly as she watches Bakugo wince every time the man inside him tries to pull out, which is often.

It occurs to Bakugo, perhaps belatedly, that this kind of unprotected sex means that he could get pregnant. He could be pregnant from this. From one of his teachers’ come. He could be squeezing out some monstrous half-dog baby in nine months, and he has no choice in the matter.

“You really want to knock me up?” Bakugo asks them, his voice barely more than a croak.

“Yes,” snarls Hound Dog at the same times as Aizawa responds, “It’s part of the job.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be be taken care of if you do become pregnant,” says Vlad.

That startles him. “Taken care of?” he wonders aloud. That’s not something he would have expected, given omegas’ traditional role as baby makers.

“Oh,” Vlad says, “No, not taken care of. I mean, when you have the baby, it’ll be well taken care of. They have facilities for the babies of Fulfilled omegas, where they’re checked for diseases, and cared for until they can be placed with another family. Betas have such a hard time conceiving — you’ll be helping so many families to become whole. It’s really a good thing you’re doing here.”

Bakugo can’t muster a response to that. It’s too depressing. What can he even say… every part of this is presented in a positive light, as though he should be happy to be providing the service of a hole to fuck and a baby to raise.

“What if I wanted to keep it?” he asks. He probably wouldn’t but…

“Oh,” everyone laughs. Vlad continues, “You won’t be in any condition to take care of it. Don’t worry about that.”

He hangs his head.

Eventually Hound Dog loosens up enough to pull out (still a bit too soon - it hurts like the dickens when he pops out prematurely), and they decide they need to get him in a position so that he can take two at once so that it doesn’t take forever. They tie his arms to his back, forearm to forearm so that they’re in a relatively comfortable rectangular shape.

Then they drag him, kicking and screaming over to the corner of the room covered in blankets and pillows, presumably for their own comfort rather than his. “God, he’s really a firecracker, isn’t he?” huffs Vlad as they wrestle him down. “Usually two knots is enough.”

“It’s going to take forever, trust me,” sighs Aizawa.

They help position him, so that Midnight can lack back with her back against the cushions and he can lean against her. They all help keep him still as she pushes her cock into his ass, the fit tight and heavy as she sinks knot-deep immediately. Vlad kneels in front of them, easing his cock out of his pants. It’s the first time Bakugo’s been able to see a dick before it’s gone inside of him and it’s mortifying. The thing is huge, a dark red and dripping at the tip, like Vlad has been hard for a long time. Bakugo knew all that reassuring stuff had been bullshit. No matter how nice he talks, Vlad is just as eager as the rest of them to cram him full of cock.

“I don’t,” Bakugo starts.

“You don’t want it?” croons Midnight in his ear. “No?”

“No,” he snaps.

“Then why are you getting wet?” she asks, one of her hands coming around his hip to smooth fingers over his dripping pussy.

“Two people came in it,” he says. “Of course it’s wet.”

She chuckles. The proximity of it to his ear sends a shiver down his spine. “Sure,” she says.

Vlad lines himself up, and slowly, carefully fills him. Alongside the dick already in his ass it’s overwhelming. It feels like there’s no more room to breathe, that he’s going to burst. There’s no way he can fit both, except he can, and it’s easy. They fit. They fit just fine.

“You’re stretchier than you think,” says Aizawa.

God, it hurts. Right? It hurts. It’s too much.

They’d pulled off his pyjama pants when they’d got him off the breeding bench, but he’s still wearing a shirt. He thanks god for this because as Midnight starts to move, Vlad picks up the same rhythm and noses forward at Bakugo’s nipples, which are straining against the thin material of his top. They feel ridiculously sensitive. Even Vlad’s hot breath through his shirt is enough to make him feel crazy.

“Slower,” Vlad says, “I’m going to come already.”

“I’m not going to slow down for you,” Midnight says, and laughs, “Premature ejaculator.”

Vlad frowns and huffs but doesn’t say anything else. It’s teasing amongst friends. This is something she knows about him because this is something they’ve done many times before.

He comes first, of course, as advertised.

Suddenly Bakugo remembers that the dicks filling him can and will get much bigger.

“Wait!” he blurts, as Vlad’s knot pops inside. He shrieks in pain as Midnight continues to fuck him, the head of her cock rubbing against the bulge filling his pussy from the inside. “Oh shit that’s good,” she moans.

“No,” he sobs. She’s going to do that same thing. “It’ll rip me apart.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” says Aizawa.

“I like his spirit,” says Midnight, ”Are you sure we can’t keep him? Public relief at UA would go a long way towards easing student tensions.”

He imagines being put on display at UA. Imagines being fucked by his classmates and his teachers. He trembles in fear.

Midnight bites him as she forces her knot inside. None of them gag him, they let him scream it out as he’s suddenly plugged by two enormous orange-sized knots.

While they wait for the knots to release they wipe his face again, which is sticky with tears and drool. They give him a drink of orange juice through a straw and ask him if he’ll need to pee once they can pull out. He doesn’t, so they just let him rest a bit, lying there bonelessly between two bigger bodies.

“Just relax,” says Vlad again a few minutes later, as he eases himself out. Midnight is small enough too to pop out at the same time. Bakugo is exhausted.

He wants to keep fighting but he’s just so tired. Nevertheless, he bites at Vlad when he tries to pet his hair, narrowly missing his index finger with his teeth.

“He’s getting there,” says Aizawa.

“Tired, not submissive,” says Vlad. “I think this is going to be quite a challenge.”



They fuck him again. It’s Aizawa’s turn to go, and he fills Bakugo’s pussy, tilting him forward onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him into a hug and holding him close as Hound Dog lines himself up to fuck Bakugo in the ass. This time, Bakugo is lying on his front, held tight, and Aizawa isn’t really moving, so all the action is happening in his ass. Maybe it’s because the position is more comfortable or maybe he’s just becoming stretched out, but it’s less difficult like this. It’s the difference between the size of the knots he’d had in him before and the cocks that are in him now, he decides. It’s a relief to be less full.

He still has a prostate, despite all the new anatomy, and apparently Hound Dog manages to find it at some point during his frenzied thrusting, because he slams into it suddenly and Bakugo sees stars.

He bites through his lip trying not to react. He doesn’t want to enjoy this, and doesn’t want them to know how good that one thrust had felt.

Bam, there it goes again, less than a minute later.

Had his prostate always been so sensitive? He doesn’t recall it feeling so good when he’d fingered himself before… it had always felt nice but now it’s like having a button slammed inside of him that sets off an electric shock. It goes all the way out to his fingers and toes, up to the base of his skull where it spreads out to tingles that go across his entire scalp. “F-fuck” he blurts, the fourth time.

“You’ve got it,” Aizawa tells Hound Dog, “There.”

Hound Dog makes an inhuman sort of sound. The sound of a beast. And he begins to fuck forward in the exact same spot, slamming into Bakugo’s prostate over and over until Bakugo feels like he might be about to pass out from overstimulation.

“Is he hard?” asks Midnight, a little breathlessly.

“Yes,” says Aizawa, and it’s only when he says it that Bakugo realises. He is. He’s hard against Aizawa’s stomach, his cock making a messy little trail as he’s fucked forward onto him.

“Who knew his ass would be the ice breaker?” chuckles Midnight, “That’s unusual.”

“Seems like he’s in denial about even having a vagina,” says Aizawa. “That’s probably why.”

Bakugo tries to form words, to tell them to fuck off, but he can’t quite formulate the sounds “N-no - not —”

“Shhh,” hums Vlad, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it so much.”

He can’t, really. He doesn’t have room in his brain for thoughts, because Hound Dog is ramming his knot against Bakugo’s asshole, until finally it’s forced to relax and the full girth of it pops in.

Bakugo hadn’t come, and as the sensation slowly fades, bringing him further from the edge he’d been up against, he’s struck by an intense feeling of unfairness. They’d all gotten to come and he hadn’t. But he can’t ask for more, no way.

Aizawa starts to move, leisurely, deeply, filling him up all the way and grinding hard against his cervix, before backing out until just the tip remains inside. It’s maddening, so slow that Bakugo wants to scream. The apex of each thrust is painful as he pushes hard on the muscle inside Bakugo that keeps the womb closed. But it hurts less and less each time, until it becomes confusing - somewhere in between pleasure and pain, in a way he doesn’t understand. It feels good to be filled to the maximum, even if it hurts. And when Aizawa comes again, tying them together with his huge dick, he’s stuck with the tip of his cock kissing the cervix as he spurts directly inside of him. Bakugo can almost imagine feeling his come deep inside, feeling it crawling deeper into him. He’s going to get knocked up.

He cries onto Aizawa’s shoulder as Hound Dog tries to pull out every few seconds, stretching the ring of muscle at his ass painfully outwards. How isn’t this going to hurt him?



They deem him relaxed enough to move onto the “next phase” as it were, which involves jamming open his mouth with their fingers and sticking their cocks in there. Vlad’s tastes weird - it takes him a few minutes to realize that it’s the taste of his own pussy - but thankfully he comes right down his throat. It’s easier when he can’t taste it, can’t see it and can’t smell it. It’s easier to swallow if he pretends it’s just spit.

They can’t knot his mouth which is a small mercy, and when Aizawa presses his dick to Bakugo’s lips he tries to refuse. Midnight is already fucking his ass again. She prefers the ass, he figures. Tighter, maybe.

Aizawa’s dick slides over his tongue, wet and disgusting, pressing dangerously downwards his gag reflex as Bakugo cries and sniffles at the rough treatment. It hurts. He’s so tired and it hurts and it feels weirdly good and he just wants it all to stop.

And then the door opens and All Might walks in.

For a moment, the world seems to stop. All Might is here.

He’s here.

“A—” Bakugo tries, around Aizawa’s cock.  “A-ll — Mi—”

He’s here to save him. Hot, fresh tears squeeze from Bakugo’s eyes when he blinks.

But then - “Finally,” says Aizawa, “Took you long enough.”

All Might wrings his hands, long skinny fingers intertwining briefly as he shuffles forward. “Sorry.”

“You don’t want to fuck your favourite student?” asks Midnight. She’s slamming on Bakugo’s prostate as she talks about him like he isn’t here. The tears flow faster as that same dizzy feeling starts up from the continued stimulation.

That’s right, isn’t it? All Might wouldn’t want to. He’s… he won’t do that.

“It’s not that,” says All Might though, “Well, I mean, it is hard. Bakugou-shounen had so much potential, it’s sad to see him like this.”

Like this? Like what? He’s still the same. He just can’t talk because his mouth is full… if All Might would just pull Aizawa off he could tell him so.

“I get it,” says Vlad, and pats All Might on the shoulder. His hand looks so large against All Might’s skeletal frame that Bakugo can scarcely believe it. “It’s hard when you’re close to them. I get why you wouldn’t want to be here at the beginning.”

“As if the rest of us don’t have similar feelings,” scoffs Aizawa. He’s got his hand fisted in the hair at the back of Bakugo’s head and as he speaks, he pulls him down hard enough that Bakugo gags. Then he holds him there. He can’t breathe.

“Sorry,” says All Might again, “I’m here now.”

“Pussy’s free,” says Midnight.

He’s going to refuse, right? Right? Surely he wouldn’t…

But All Might nods, staidly, like he’s resigned to it, and unbuckles his belt as he steps forward.

He won’t.

He does.

They manhandle Bakugo so that he’s over All Might, forcing him to straddle All Might’s skinny hips as All Might jerks himself to hardness. Bakugo can’t bring himself to talk now, even though his mouth is free. He’s crying too hard.

“It’s okay,” says All Might, rubbing a bony hand up over Bakugo’s upper arm. “I am here.”

It’s like a stab in the heart. To hear All Might say that. It’s something that has always made him feel better. It’s something he’d dreamed of saying to other people when he saved them. The ability to make people feel better simply with your presence? That’s a true hero.

But that won’t be him. It can’t be him, anymore. It’ll be Deku, and someone else after him and after them and so on. But now it can never be Katsuki. He’s been ruined.

They sit him down on All Might’s cock.

If he’d thought Aizawa was maxing out before, he was nothing compared to All Might, whose penis is still proportionally sized for his height and therefore enormous. It presses against the end of his channel and stretches up behind his belly button. It hurts.

“Go on,” says someone and hands over his hips start him bouncing.

Up and down. He’s on top now, arms still tied behind him so that his back is arched and chest thrust forward. They bounce him for a couple of moments, and then they stop and his rhythm stutters as he tries to continue on his own. It hurts. Ugh, god, it’s too big, too long, it’s halfway up his fucking body on the inside and it’s awful.

“There you go,” someone says, and they ruffle his hair. Beneath him, All Might smiles at him. It isn’t the confident smile Bakugo’s seen a million times before. It isn’t a happy smile. It’s a sad, resigned smile. It’s a smile that clearly says that he knows that Bakugo is gone, or going to be. That he’s beyond saving.

And Bakugo knows that if All Might can’t save him, no one can.

So he bounces.

“Get his knot in,” someone says, after a while, and he tries to push down further until it’s all the way in. It won’t pop inside, it’s too big.

“Go on,” says someone else, encouragingly, and they rub his back, pat his shoulders.

He tries but he can’t, and he wails in frustration. He can’t get it in, these stupid fuckheads don’t understand that? He’s not a big guy, how is he supposed to fit —?

Someone pushes down, hard, on his shoulders, the next time he’s down all the way, and suddenly, with a fresh burst of pain, All Might is all the way in, knot buried at his entrance and cock spurting inside of him. Bakugo can practically feel the volume of it, filling him up.

He could have All Might’s baby. He could have… All Might’s baby.

He’s going to cry.

Someone kisses his cheek and he leans into it, desperate for any kind of affection and reassurance. Teeth close over his shoulder and bite down hard and he moans as they lick over the bleeding punctures.

They push him forward and All Might wraps his arms around him into an embrace and for a moment it feels completely right, being held like this by his hero. This is the person who had indirectly raised him into the man he is today. This is the person he’d fought tooth and nail to be like, to be close to. He’d wanted to be All Might all his life, and now even All Might was saying that it’d never happen. He cries onto him as someone fucks into his ass, as they pound him, rubbing against the other massive intrusion in his lower body. He cries as he finally comes, his cock trapped between his stomach and All Might’s abdomen, spurting messily over his baggy white t-shirt as a burst of cheers go up around him. “There you go, baby,” someone says into his ear. “That’s it.”

“Is that his first time?” asks All Might. He’s holding Bakugo like you would a child, his curled up body clutched to All Might’s chest. He’s absent-mindedly patting him on the back and ass. It’s the most comforted Bakugo has felt so far during this process.

“Yeah,” says Aizawa.

“How long have you been going?”

“You made twelve,” says Vlad. He’s right behind Bakugo. He must be the one trying to force his knot into Bakugo’s asshole. He manages it and Bakugo moans as it plugs him up and Vlad comes. “And that’s… thirteen,” he huffs.

“Thirteen, and he’s still like this?” asks All Might, sounding surprised. Bakugo wonders how he’s supposed to be at this point.

All Might goes again as soon as he’s softened, without even pulling out. This time he doesn’t make Bakugo do the work, he just holds him and rocks him up and down on his dick in a way that feels like it should be too gentle for him to get off.

“What are you doing?” complains Midnight, apparently bored.

“I want him to come as well,,” says All Might, and Bakugou wonders if he should be grateful for that or if it’s okay to still be furious at the concept of having to enjoy his own rape.

“He’ll come from his ass,” she says, “He’s proved that already.”

“Yes, but I’d like him to… to feel good in the other…”

“In his other hole,” she finishes for him.

All Might has the audacity to blush, turning a bright, burning pink all the way to the tips of his ears, “Yes. Well, that usually makes them relax a bit.”

“I get the feeling he hasn’t done this very often,” says Midnight to Hound Dog, in a theatrical whisper.

All Might ignores her. “Bakugo-shounen, try to focus on how good it feels. It’ll help.”

Will it? He tries, drawing his attention inwards and down, to where All Might’s cock slowly slides in and out of his messy cunt. He hates it. But… it does feel…kind of good. “Your prostate should be accessible from here,” All Might says, quietly, talking just to Katsuki, “If you angle your hips right, you’ll get me to hit it. That’ll make it feel much better.”

Bakugo does, searching for the angle. The stretch still burns, the slide still feels raw, but if he tilts his hips forwards, he can kind of feel the thick head of All Might’s dick scraping against his pleasure button.

Someone sighs. They sound impatient, but All Might ignores them, apparently deciding to focus on being a good teacher for fucking once.

“Got it?” He asks. Bakugo manages to make an affirmative noise against the choking feeling still present in his throat. “Okay, now I want you to sit up and try to get my… get me to push into it when you move, okay?”

Bakugo wipes a cheek against his own shoulder, unable to rub the tears and mess from his face with his hands still tied behind his back. “Can we let him go?” All Might asks, as Bakugo struggles to get his knees in the right position on his own.

They do, they let his hands go and he shakes them out before he leans forward, pressing his splayed hands against All Might’s scrawny chest. He wonders how it would feel beneath his hands if All Might were his old, larger than life self. Would his cock feel different too?

Like this, it’s much easier to do this himself, and he is able to lean forward to better angle the appendage inside of him to hit the spot that had had the promise of feeling good earlier. It works. On his next bounce, he feels it as All Might’s cock nudges up against his prostate. It’s the same thing again, an electric shock that spreads through his entire body before settling in his gut. “Oh,” he moans.

“There you go,” says All Might, rubbing one of his thighs. “Again.”

He does. Oh fuck, that actually feels pretty good, the way All Might scrapes past his pleasure button and up against the terminal end of his pussy. Hmm. What if he went faster, would that feel better?

Answer: yes.

“Oh,” he says again, and this time it comes out less like a word and more like a chirp, a lot like he’s heard other omegas “talk”, but he doesn’t have time to worry about that, because now, in charge of his own orgasm and able to set the pace, he can get exactly what he wants. It feels really really fucking good. It’s at exactly the right angle, and he’s close to the edge fast. For a moment he thinks about reaching down to touch his own dick, the main source of his pleasure since puberty, but he quickly realizes that that would set him back. Removing a hand from the person beneath him would disrupt his rhythm and he can’t take that. He needs to keep going, because he’s so fucking close and just a little bit more and he’ll finally get to —

“Jesus Christ,” says Aizawa from somewhere very far away, “I knew he’d like it better when he was in control but I never thought it’d be such a difference.”

Of course he likes it better now thet he’s in charge! What fucker deserves access to this body against Bakugo’s will?

God it feels so good, so perfect, the way All Might is stretching out his pussy. He’s so big, and Bakugo knows it’s only going to get better when he gets that knot in. This time he’s determined to do it himself, without outside help, and he drops himself, grinding down until it pops all the way in and he can feel the intense pulse against his stretched hole as All Might unloads inside him with a deep, guttural groan. “Mmm,” Bakugo moans as the feeling of come inside of him pushes him over the edge, pushing out any of the rational thoughts complaining that this still isn’t fair.  Oh fuck, what if he gets pregnant with All Might’s baby? He doesn’t…want that but… If he’s going to have to be pregnant, it wouldn’t be so bad with All Might, right? He’d get to be closer to him, right? Have a little piece of him inside him, to give the world more of his hero. It could be worse.

Someone pushes him forward and fucks into his ass.

And so it goes, on and on and one. They spitroast him, they titty fuck him, they jam two cocks into his pussy at once (and that had felt pretty unreal, it was just too bad they couldn’t both knot the same hole).

They take breaks every so often, to give him something to drink (never something to eat), to take him to the bathroom or to clean him up. They’re trying to keep him comfortable, but as time goes on he starts to find it annoying - he’d rather just get back to it and get it over with and get to his next orgasm sooner, rather than wasting time shuffling around making sure he isn’t thirsty or that nothing is cramping.

It feels better and better and he wants more and more and more, until he forgets he ever wanted anything else.



Todoroki isn’t really surprised that Midoriya is the first one of them to find Bakugo in a Heat House. He’d probably been on the lookout for him ever since Bakugo had disappeared halfway through third year. Todoroki’s experienced a few ruts himself, and every time he’s left the facility, he’s thought to himself that next time he should really try to find Bakugo. He just never remembers to do it when he’s coming up into rut.

This time though, he’s made an appointment in advance, based off Midoriya’s recommendation. (“Try Kacchan,” he’d said, dreamy look on his face, “He’s incredible.”)

He’s nervous to see what could have been his alone when he kisses Momo goodbye and sets off for a four-day sojourn at one of the nicest omega houses in the country. They check him in, show him his room. He can have Katsuki in here, or in the playroom, they tell him. He’d paid for private sessions (a generous donation it had been, too), so he’s entitled to keep Katsuki as long as he wants and no one will bother him. “He’s a bit of a firecracker though,” says the woman guiding him deeper through the modern building, “Don’t feel bad if he starts complaining that he needs more, he’s always like that.”

“Can Baku— Katsuki talk?” Omegas can’t, can they?

“In a way,” she chuckles.

He decides to have Bakugo in the playroom, wanting to keep his room low-scent for easier sleeping.

When he arrives there, Bakugo is already in the room, lying on his back in the centre of a mound of cushions, reclined indulgently like he’s royalty. “Hello,” Todoroki says to him, awkwardly. Bakugo sits up, bright eyes raking over him from toes to forehead before dropping back down. His eyes are bright and analytical, and he’s purring in approval, but there’s no sense of recognition there. Bakugo doesn’t know him. He clearly just sees an alpha. An alpha he likes.

His stomach curves when he sits up all the way. He’s a couple of months pregnant and it’s a beautiful baby bump.

Todoroki swallows. Those are Midoriya’s babies in there. Someone Bakugo had always…hated… before. Someone he’d never let look down on him. And now he’s carrying his children like it’s nothing, because it is. Bakugo is pregnant more often than not, in here, and it’s not like he gets to choose who knocks him up.

The nurse had told him it’s a challenge in the mandated waiting period between pregnancies, when Bakugo’s pussy is off limits. He’s an absolute nightmare until someone finally knocks him up again. So it had probably been a relief when Midoriya had come into the room. He’d probably been so hungry, so desperate for another warm body that he hadn’t even looked at Midoriya long enough to realize who it was. He’d probably begged Midoriya to knock him up, insofar as omegas can beg.

Bakugo sits up completely, onto his knees, bringing his hands forward in front of himself. Both his knees are turned to one side. The pose puts Todoroki rather in mind of a cat.

Come here, his expression is firmly saying.

Todoroki does, and Bakugo’s hands come up, dragging him down into the cushions, pushing his face up into Todoroki’s scent glands to breathe him in, chirping as he does. He’s happy, that much is clear. Ecstatic. Euphoric. He pushes Todoroki’s face into the crook of his neck and groans when he bites him.

Todoroki doesn’t really come up again for four days.