Chapter Text
Bakugo Katsuki was someone of great pride and arrogance. He always knew, even before he presented, he was an Alpha, by blood, personality, and traits. He had no need of those below him, and there wasn't a human being that existed that was on his level or above him, so he was alone, and he didn't mind that.
However, even someone as smart as him couldn't have possibly predicted the outcome of this.
He pants in the solitary of his room, throwing furniture around, and clawing at his throat, to stop the pathetic pleads from betraying him. In the corner of his mind, he recognizes his parents' scents, the worried pheromones they're producing, but those aren't the scents he craves, nor the pheromones he wants.
"D-Deku..."
The sound escapes him in a low whine, and he's mortified beyond belief, horrified that he, a proud motherfucking alpha, has sunk this low. He claws harder, wherever his hands can reach, to stop this madness. He just wants it to end. He has already been traumatized for a lifetime.
He was spoiled, arrogant, and an alpha. That was never a good combination, but Katsuki didn't care. He always got what he wanted, and he was praised for his ways. No one like him existed. No one like him exists! And as an 18 year old teenager as of now, he let it get to his head. All of the praise, the gifts, the admiration... It all got to his head, fueled his ego. He looked down on others, no one looked down on him.
Except Deku. It was always deku, that one person who always looked down at him, acted like he was above him. Katsuki didn't need a lowlife like him, but his first rut is proving it hard, his instincts are forcing him to submit to the pull of fucking fate. But, never, never will he ever bend or god forbid, submit to his instincts. He was at the very top, no instincts will bring him down.
"The more you struggle, the more it will hurt, stupid Brat"
His mother's voice calls from the other side of the door, but is it really his mother? In his lust full daze, he doesn't recognize her. She's a stranger. She's not the apple cider smell he's craving so bad, oh so bad it hurts.
She's not emerald eyes looking down on him the whole damn time. So before he even realizes, a low groan escaped him, feral, wild, and downright horrendous. It's unwelcoming and filled with horrible threats and warnings. But, most importantly, it's so needy, so needy for the naïve freckled omega.
His instincts are his worst enemy right now. They are testing his self control, forcing him to call out to something he doesn't want. His instincts want him to get off his high horse, and beg for the omega to let him mark him, to sink his teeth deep, and leave his mark all over Deku.
Deku of all people.
However, he pushes them down with a hard bite at his hand. The hand that have started to wander dangerously down, to the hard proof of what his instincts want, need.
Not him, absolutely not him. He would never stoop as low as to craving the scent of apple cidars, but, oh god, help him. Help him, the scent sounds so appealing now, he wouldn't mind if he drowned and choked around this smell. He wouldn't mind if it wrapped around his throat in a deathly grip, and robbed him of his last breath.
It made him so weak, so weak. He craved it so bad, but it's not here. Why is it not here? And the more he imagined it, the more weak he felt. He fell to his knees, a panting mess on the floor, scratching the tiles until his nails chipped and bled, but it wasn't enough to snap him out of his pathetic rut. He won't snap out of it before 2 full days.
Unless he dragged his hands all over the fragile, but oh so sinful body of the green haired omega. He'd leave bites all over his tempting pale skin, marking him anywhere and everywhere. Then he'd keep moving lower, lower, and lower- and fuck he was driving himself crazy. His instincts were driving him crazy, forcing unwanted images and fantasies into his mind.
He tried to escape them, to escape his mind, his instincts and his alpha. He tried to escape his omega that is so far away right now. But they were his. How could he escape what was a part of him? How could he escape himself?
Deku's voice laced his mind, the recent memory of him calling Katsuki by that stupid nickname, Kacchan. And suddenly, the nickname sounds heavenly, playing on repeat in his head like a broken record.
Chills travel down his spine, rendering his body immobile for a moment, and in that one moment he let himself go, imagine how it would feel to sink into the depth of his omega, while the latter scratches his back and calls his name in the most lewd voices and expressions he can make.
And Katsuki groans, low in his throat, unconsciously, reaching out his hand for green hair and idiotic smiles, tempting him, driving him crazy, mad with need.
And that's how he spends the rest of his cursed rut, tempted but never satisfied.