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Izuku comes out of his latest heat feeling like he’s been hit by a truck. It lasted longer than normal and the cramps that accompanied it were worse than any other he’d experienced so far. Fearing that something’s seriously wrong, he schedules an appointment with his doctor.

She takes his vitals and does a physical, even runs a couple of tests. Then she goes over the results with him. “It doesn’t look like anything’s wrong to me,” his doctor says, crossing her legs. “You’re a perfectly healthy Omega, you’re just getting older and, without a mate, that’s going to make your heats more intense. It’s an evolutionary mechanism,” she explains. “The theory is that the older you get, the longer your heat lasts, increasing the chance you’ll find a mate. The cramps are your body’s alarm bells,” she says, twirling her finger in the air, “signaling that something’s wrong, that something being that you’re still unmated. Again, the theory is that if an Omega is in pain, they will seek out an Alpha to soothe them, thus resulting in a mating.”

“So basically, my body’s punishing me for still being single at 28?” Izuku groans, shoulders slumping.

His doctor chuckles. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.” She sets down his chart and leans forward, eyes serious. “Midoriya, suppressants can only help so much, but there are other ways to relieve the symptoms of heat.”

Izuku blushes. “I don’t want to mate with just anyone,” he mumbles, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater, hooking the light grey fabric over his thumbs.

“Of course, Midoriya, I understand,” his doctor replies softly. “That’s not what I was suggesting. Here,” she opens a drawer, pulls out some pamphlets, and passes them to him. “There are some services that provide Omegas like yourself with clothes from an Alpha to help them through their heat. Just having the scent of an Alpha can help relieve a lot of the symptoms you’re experiencing.”

“Oh,” Izuku blinks, looking down at the glossy pamphlet in his hands. “I thought these were, you know….” he trails off, cheeks heating up.

“A lot of people look down on these services because they’re commercialized, and it’s true that they have a, well I guess you could say, a racy reputation. Unfortunately these services aren’t covered by insurance, but if you’re looking for alternatives, it’s not a bad idea.”

Izuku takes the pamphlets and promises to think about it. When he gets home, he sits down in front of his computer and looks up the website for the mail service. He cringes at the gaudy site, the suggestive pictures and flashing advertisements almost make him immediately click away, but he pushes through his discomfort. He clicks on the about tab and learns that it’s an anonymous exchange where Omegas and Alphas can sell or buy clothes covered in scent as a way to help them through their heats and ruts. Underneath all the provocative marketing, it’s actually a good idea, but it is a little expensive. Izuku does a little more research, clicks around the website and finds out that if he sells his clothes, he’ll also get a discount when buying items.

Izuku heistates, mouse hovering over the link to sign up as he deliberates. It’s so embarrassing, but it’s not like anyone will even buy his clothes. And even if they do, he reasons, it’s not like there’s any way it can be traced back to him. A twinge in his abdomen, a lingering cramp, spurs him to click on the link. He just can’t go through another heat like that again. He fills out the form and hits send after verifying all his information. Afterwards, he falls back in his seat with a heavy sigh.

A few days later, a nondescript package arrives at his door. It contains the materials and instructions for submitting samples of his scent. Izuku reads the instructions carefully. He’s supposed to shower, then transfer some of his scent onto the materials provided, making sure that no other scents taint the sample. Izuku follows the directions, blushing furiously as he rubs the plain handkerchiefs over the scent glands on his neck, then carefully seals them back in the plastic bags provided. He mails them back and a few days later, he gets his very own sample package.

Izuku picks it up, sees the return address, and blushes bright red. He glances around furtively as he tucks the package under his arm, then darts inside. It’s not like anyone could possibly know what’s in it, but Izuku still feels dirty just for knowing what’s inside. Heart pounding, he hastily slams the door behind him and falls against it. He looks down at the package in his hands and takes a deep breath, then carries it over to his scuffed dining table.

Izuku carefully slits open the top of the bubble wrapped envelope, then turns it upside down and empties its contents onto the table. Several sealed plastic bags like the one he submitted and another set of instructions fall out. Izuku picks up the instructions first and reads them. Apparently these are the first set of samples. He can pick out as many as he likes and place his order online, using the corresponding serial numbers attached to each sample. If he doesn’t like any of these samples, he can request another set of samples until he finds one he does like.

With trembling hands, Izuku picks up the first plastic bag and slides it open. He reaches in and takes out the black cloth, folded neatly into a little square. Hesitantly, he lifts it to his face and takes a deep breath. Izuku lets out an involuntary whine.

Oh, he thinks. Oh, this is the one.

His reaction is immediate and visceral, heat sparking in his veins. He holds the cloth to his nose and inhales deeply again, eyes fluttering shut. It’s unquestionably Alpha, strong and dominating, so heady it makes his head spin in the most pleasant way. Izuku whines again, taking another deep inhale of the irresistible scent, squirming in his seat. His body’s heating up, a flush spreading all the way down his chest as he feels his body responding to the scent of burnt sugar and cinnamon apples, sharp yet surprisingly sweet for an Alpha. Izuku knows it’s weird to get this worked up just from scent alone, but it's like he’s lost all ability to think straight. It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced. No one has ever smelled so good, so right, and he can’t get enough.

He keeps taking deep breaths of the intoxicating scent, nuzzling his cheek against the cloth, feeling himself getting more and more worked up. He’s embarrassingly hard and he can feel himself starting to leak slick. Heated and panting, he can’t take it anymore, and shoves his free hand into his pants, touching himself while taking deep breaths of the intoxicating Alpha’s scent. His fingers wrap around his length and he strokes himself, panting against the cloth clamped over his nose and mouth.

Izuku bucks wantonly into his own hand, whining and whimpering as he works himself over. It’s not enough, he needs more. He stands up abruptly, knocking his chair back with a screech, and yanks his pants and underwear down, falling forward onto the table as he reaches behind himself to plunge his fingers into his dripping hole. His hips buck against the table, cock smearing precome across the surface as he fucks himself on his fingers, still clutching the black cloth to his face.

He works his fingers in and out of himself, the table under him shaking at the force of his movements, the light rattling it makes and the wet squelching of his fingers drowned out by his moans. He’s so fucking desperate he doesn’t even think about his neighbors, can’t think about anything except the mouth watering scent of Alpha in his nose. Every inhale it burns down his nose, lighting a fire inside him that burns hotter and hotter, the heat coiling and bursting in his gut as he keens, vision whiting out as he comes across the table, slick gushing out between his fingers and dripping down his thighs. Izuku slumps against the table, legs shaking and panting heavily as he comes down from his high.

Izuku lies there for several moments, at first too blissed out to move and then too shocked at his own reaction to move. He blinks away the tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes. What the hell was that? The buzz of pleasure still hangs heavy over his mind but he’s lucid enough to know that that was not normal. He might be hard up for action but reacting like that, just to an Alpha’s scent? He must be more desperate than he realized. He puts his hands on the table and pushes himself up, grimacing at the mess he made of the table, his cum smeared across the surface and sticking to his belly.

Izuku stands on wobbly legs and peels his pants the rest of the way off, stumbling into the bathroom and into the shower. The realization of what he’s just done sinks in as he scrubs himself clean, cheeks burning with shame. He just jerked off to a total stranger’s scent and he doesn’t even have the excuse of being in heat. Still, no matter how embarrassing it is, he wants more of that amazing scent, and if this is how good it felt with that scent now, he can’t even imagine how good it’ll be during his heat. For the first time in a long time, Izuku’s actually kind of looking forward to his heat, instead of looking at it like a chore he just has to get through.

He dries himself off and dresses in a ratty old shirt and sweatpants before returning to the combined living room and kitchen space of his tiny apartment. He wipes down the table with a washcloth, face twisted up in shame and disgust. When he’s done, he glances down at the plastic bag on the table and picks it up, pauses, then gathers the rest of the samples and dumps them into the garbage.

He doesn’t even need to try the others. He knows, with bone deep certainty, that this scent is the only one he’ll ever need. Nothing can ever compare to it, he thinks, thighs squeezing together as he tries to ignore the lingering heat in his belly as he clicks through the links and fills out the form. His first request is simple, nothing fancy, just a standard shirt.

He receives his package a week later and just in time because for some reason, Izuku’s heat is early. Too early. It’s barely been three weeks since the last one. Izuku wonders if the scent of the Alpha kick started his heat early. If that’s the case, he only has himself to blame, since he’s been using the first sample to jerk off nearly every day since receiving it.

Izuku picks up the package with shaking hands, heat lacing through his veins and heart beat kicking up a notch in anticipation. It's here! He clutches it to his chest like it's something precious and carries it into his house. He carefully unwraps it, practically salivating at the scent waiting for him inside. He lifts out the soft, black shirt and buries his face in it, taking a long, deep whiff. He rubs his face against the fabric and purrs. Already his body is responding to the heady scent of Alpha, slick trickling out of his aching, fluttering hole.

Izuku carries the shirt into his nest and gleefully spends his heat with his nose buried in the soft black shirt provided by the Alpha as he touches himself. There’s no cramps this time, only mindless pleasure as he ruts against the mattress, mind lost in a pleasant haze of heat as he comes, again and again, face pressed against the Alpha’s shirt, working a knot toy in and out of his ass. When he’s exhausted himself, he wears the shirt while he sleeps, and the comforting scent of Alpha lulls him to sleep.

Izuku comes out of his heat bleary-eyed and wearing nothing but the cum stained black shirt from the Alpha. Other than the regular aches and exhaustion that comes from masturbating for three days straight, Izuku’s not in any pain. He stretches his limbs and rolls over in the tangled mess of sheets and nesting materials on his bed. He’s not in any pain, but he does feel a little hollow. The scent is nice, but it seems it still can’t replace the feeling of being knotted for real.

Izuku drags himself out of bed and into the shower. Afterwards he stands in the middle of the kitchen, wolfing down three microwaved frozen burritos in his underwear, then gets to work cleaning up. He strips his bed of the nesting material and throws it in the wash, then opens up all the windows in his tiny apartment to air out the stale scent of desperation and heat.

It’s not until later that night, when he’s curled up on the couch, half-asleep and barely paying attention to the romantic drama playing on TV, that he’s reminded that he also signed up to sell his own clothes. His phone pings and Izuku picks it up, clicking on the little email icon. Immediately he sits up, nearly choking on the popcorn he was eating when he sucks in a surprised breath.

It’s an email from the scent service, letting him know that someone’s made an order for his clothes. Izuku swallows thickly, clicking through the email with wide eyes. Izuku was so distracted by his early heat that he completely forgot about sending in his own samples. He tips over on his side, burying his heated face in the couch cushions with a muffled groan. He can’t believe someone actually wants his scent. Though he’s embarrassed, he’s also oddly pleased. It’s kind of nice knowing his scent is desirable enough that someone actually wants it.  

Izuku turns his cheek to the side. Face still half smushed against the couch, he raises his phone up and clicks through the links attached to the email, reading the instructions for fulfilling requests. Izuku can buy his own clothing to mail or the service will provide standard articles of clothing to him for a low fee. Either way, the service takes a cut of the commission for every order. Customers can also make special requests by filling out an online form. The sellers determine their fees for special items and retain the right to refuse any requests.

Izuku looks through the details of his very first request and breathes a sigh of relief that it’s just a  straightforward order for a simple shirt with his scent. He decides to send one of his own shirts, worn and older, and wears it for a bit before rubbing it over the scent glands on his neck. Impulsively, he handwrites a thank you card to go along with it, then spends a good hour and a half pacing his apartment, wondering if he should even include it, before shoving it into the plastic bag with the shirt and sealing it before he can talk himself out of it yet again. He tosses the package in the mail and goes to bed, tossing and turning, but after a few days, Izuku kind of forgets about it, consumed by more pressing matters at work.

Izuku decides to keep the shirt the Alpha sent him, even though the scent faded in the wash. He folds the soft black shirt and tucks it into his drawers. Sometimes he wears it to bed, fingers trailing along the hem of the shirt that falls halfway down his bare thighs. Izuku admires himself in the mirror, likes the way it looks on him. It’s the sort of thing he’d wear if he had a real boyfriend. There’s a tiny twinge in his heart because it’s not real, and he misses the scent of the Alpha, but it’s an ache he chooses to ignore. It’s pointless to long for something that can never happen. Anyway, he’ll get another package from the Alpha next month, he thinks, smoothing down the front of his shirt and flicking off the bathroom light, heading into his room and crawling under the covers. It’s not like he’ll never smell him again.

Life goes on and the only thing that changes is that Izuku actually looks forward to his next heat. But of course, nothing in his life is ever that simple. While Izuku’s eagerly waiting for his next package, he receives a steady trickle of new requests for his scent. His very first customer from last time is returning and now he’s got several new orders.

Izuku glances furtively around the office as he reads through the emails at work, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He never intended to start selling his clothes to strangers and it’s so embarrassing, if anyone he knew ever found out, he’d probably die of mortification. But on the other hand, if he keeps getting orders like this, he could make a decent profit and…. He squirms in his seat, cheeks turning red. He hates to admit it, it’s so shallow, but it’s also kind of flattering.

Izuku’s never been the most confident Omega. Shy and meek, he’s often been overlooked as plain looking, but this…. This makes him feel sexy in a way he’s never felt before. This is tangible proof that he’s desirable and maybe it is shallow, but Izuku likes this feeling. He likes being wanted, desired.

So that’s how he starts selling his underwear to strange Alphas over the internet. Well, to be fair, most of his customers just order the standard shirt with his scent, but he’s got a decent amount of customers that order panties and one that orders his socks (Izuku tries not to judge, everyone’s got their kinks). He still puts his own special touch on his orders. He tucks a handwritten thank you note into every garment, wraps it in pastel wrapping paper, and ties it all together in a neat little bow before shipping it off. Reading over the comments from the request forms, it appears that his customers really like the personal touch he puts on his orders. He gets a lot of return customers that way.

In fact, Izuku’s very first customer, an Alpha that goes by the username King Explosion, still orders from him every month. Izuku’s grown a little fond of him, and not just because he was his very first customer. He’s a huge Ground Zero fan too, judging from his username and based on the fact that he’s always asking Izuku to scent Ground Zero merch. It’s kind of nice knowing that they have something in common, makes him feel more real than some of Izuku’s other customers.

Izuku’s not just sending out orders though, he’s also receiving them. Izuku keeps ordering from the same Alpha, the first one. At first it was only shirts, but Izuku’s become a little more bold and has a little more money to spend thanks to selling his clothes, so he starts making his own requests. Izuku has a fondness for soft, oversized sweaters, so when the seasons change and the weather turns colder, he requests one. He doesn’t specify what kind of sweater he wants, other than “soft and big” on the order form, but when he gets a genuine Ground Zero sweatshirt drenched in incredible Alpha pheromones, Izuku wonders if he’s died and gone to heaven.

After Izuku submits a very enthusiastic request form asking for more, the Alpha keeps sending him Ground Zero merch covered in his scent and Izuku cherishes each and every one. Sometimes Izuku wears the Ground Zero hoodie and nothing else when he touches himself and thinks this must be what it feels like for other Omegas who can wear their boyfriend’s clothes.

Thanks to King Explosion and his other loyal customers, after only a few months, Izuku’s done so well for himself that he’s able to move out of his crappy apartment and into a safer part of town. In his new apartment, he’s set up a little gift wrapping station where he completes all his orders on his days off.

Izuku’s sitting cross legged in the middle of his bed, wearing nothing but the latest Ground Zero hoodie he’d received from his Alpha and a pair of boxer briefs, reading glasses perched on his nose as he scrolls through his phone. He’s going over the latest batch of orders and nearly chokes when he opens King Explosion’s latest special request. This time the Alpha’s asking for a pair of Ground Zero themed panties, black satin with a bold orange X across the crotch, soaked in Izuku’s slick, but he doesn’t want just any slick. Oh no, he wants Izuku to wear them when he’s in heat.

Izuku whines and rolls around on his bed, face heated and flushed as he flails, phone landing next to him with a soft thump. He has half a mind to refuse such an embarrassing request but he could pay his rent for three months with the amount of money King Explosion’s offering. So Izuku accepts the request, buys the panties with the forwarded funds, and wears them during his next heat.

Izuku whines as he pushes the silky panties to the side so he can finger himself, face twisting in the sheets and ass up in the air, slick trickling between his fingers, down his thighs, and over his balls, mixing with the precum leaking onto the bed. He pants, drool gathering around his open mouth as he fucks himself open, thighs shaking with the sheer force of his need. It’s good, but it’s not enough. What he wants, what he really needs, is his Alpha’s scent.

Izuku’s used to having his Alpha’s scent to comfort him through his heat but he never realized how dependent on it he’d gotten until now. He whines again, a pitiful, plaintive noise, desperate for his Alpha’s scent. But he can’t risk it. King Explosion wouldn’t want to smell even a hint of another Alpha on his precious panties. Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and searches his mind for a distraction, something besides the scent of cinnamon apples and burnt sugar to get him off.

His heat addled brain is sluggish and Izuku wrenches his hand out of his ass with a wet squelch, trying to focus. He clenches around nothing, whining through his teeth as he casts his gaze around the room, trying to come up with something, anything, but it’s so hard to think. His hips jerk against the bed, desperate for friction, and he moans, the band of the panties catching around the tip of his cock.

The panties…. Of course! Izuku latches onto it like a lifeline, mind conjuring up a fantasy of his favorite pro hero. He imagines Ground Zero’s the one asking Izuku to do this and Izuku keens and shudders, letting his imagination run wild as he starts touching himself again. Ground Zero would growl low in his ear and pull on his hair, slap his ass and order him to come for him like a good little bitch. Izuku sobs into the mattress, pumping his fingers in and out of himself furiously, slick, wet sounds echoing his desperate cries. “Just like that, come on, baby, come for me,” he imagines the Alpha whispering to him in a low, honeyed tone and Izuku does, comes hard and fast, squirting all over the panties, cum and slick making a mess of them. He lies there for several minutes, wide eyed and panting, trembling all over as he lies in his own mess before he rolls over and rips off the dirty panties, shoving them into the plastic bag and tossing it carelessly in the corner.

Izuku’s so turned on he’s shaking as he grabs the bag with his Alpha’s clothes in it and tears into it like a man possessed. He nearly sobs in relief, shoves his face in the black hoodie and takes a deep inhale, purring as he rubs his cheek against the soft fabric. He shakes it out and groans at the sight of the bright orange X across the front of the hoodie and the little grenade emblem sewn over the chest. It’s another piece of Ground Zero merch, god, his Alpha’s so good to him. His Alpha, Ground Zero. (He’s still caught up in the fantasy and he doesn’t know how to stop, doesn’t want to stop, he’s never been so turned on in his life.)

Izuku pulls the hoodie over his head, sighing in satisfaction as it falls partway down his thighs, enveloping him in the rich, musky scent of his Alpha. Feeling the fabric brush over his sensitive nipples is enough to make him keen quietly as he falls back on the bed. His legs splay open and Izuku eagerly reaches between them to touch himself, one hand wrapping around his cock and the other fondling his balls. He’s impatient though, so he quickly lets go and trails his fingers backwards, sliding through the slick and back into his stretched hole.

“Mmf,” Izuku moans quietly as his own fingers sink into himself, deeper, deeper, until he crooks them just so and his back arches off the bed with a loud cry. He twists his face to the side and nuzzles into the fabric of the black hood, purring and keening as the heat in his belly winds tighter and tighter, muscles coiling and straining as he teeters on the edge. Heels digging into the mattress, he takes the fabric between his teeth and bites down harshly, imagining it’s Ground Zero he’s biting as he comes across his belly with a muffled shout.

He spends the rest of his heat like this, getting off to his Alpha’s scent and imagining it’s Ground Zero fucking him into the mattress when he’s shoving a knot toy up his ass. After a few days, Izuku’s lucid enough to mail out his slick soaked panties, wrapping them in the black and orange wrapping paper he reserves specifically for King Explosion’s orders. He tilts his head to the side, then decides to add another special touch, applying some of his own Ground Zero stickers to the outside of the package. Izuku blushes, wondering if it’s too childish, but then again, King Explosion’s the one that’s always asking Izuku to scent Ground Zero merch, he probably won’t mind. When he’s not asking for that, he requests things frilly panties in pink silk and white lace. He seems to like cute things.

Ever since that heat, Izuku’s been unable to stop thinking of his Alpha, the one that keeps sending him clothes, and Ground Zero as one and the same. Izuku’s still ordering clothes from his Alpha but now when he spends every heat with them, he’s fantasizing about the pro hero. It sends a pleasant shiver down his spine, imagining that Ground Zero wants him to wear his clothes, his colors, his scent. A bold, possessive claim that makes the Omega in him writhe with pleasure.

He even goes so far as to order a Ground Zero themed heat toy, a massive knot that’s rumored to be the same size as the real thing and he doesn’t stop there. Izuku’s heart pounds as he submits his first order form with special instructions, wondering if the Alpha will even do it, but then he receives a very pungent shirt drenched in the Alpha’s scent and the smell of his sweat from working out.

Izuku spends that particular heat sobbing into a pillow wrapped with the Alpha’s sweat stained shirt as a vibrator abuses his prostate. He imagines Ground Zero pounding into him, sweet nitroglycerin sweat dripping down his ripped body, big hands on his hips and thick knot in his ass. Izuku whines, letting the vibrator keep going long past his limit, thighs spasming with every weak roll of his hips, imagining that his Alpha’s not done with him yet, wants to keep fucking him until he’s a drooling, fucked out mess. Izuku’s cock weeps onto the bed, cum spilling out of the tip every time he shifts even the tiniest bit, the egg-shaped vibrator pressing harder against his prostate.

Things go on this way for months. Izuku fulfills his orders and once every month, he gets a new article of clothing from his mystery Alpha. He spends a lot of time between his heats daydreaming about the explosive hero. He imagines all kinds of convoluted scenarios about meeting him, though his mind tends to linger on being literally whisked off his feet by the hero after a daring rescue. Izuku is nothing if not a hopeless romantic.

Though the symptoms of his heat have greatly improved since using the Alpha’s clothes during his heat, Izuku finds himself feeling oddly dissatisfied. That ache in his heart only gets stronger with every heat spent alone. He keeps everything the Alpha sends him, even when the scent fades, incorporating it into his own wardrobe. He has enough shirts now that he wears them to sleep every night, curling up in a bed that’s started to feel much too big and cold for him alone. He slips into one of the oversized sweatshirts as soon as he gets home and when he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine his Alpha’s arms around him. His friends tease him about his “imaginary” boyfriend, but Izuku refuses to get rid of his clothes. The shirts and hoodies are the only things he can hold onto, the only proof he has that his Alpha is real and not just in his head.

Izuku’s friends urge him to move on, to find a real relationship and quit wasting his time on a fantasy. He knows they’re right, but he can’t help the way he feels. He tries to explain that no one else smells right. How can he date someone that can’t even compare to the feeling he gets from a shirt drenched in his Alpha’s scent or the image of victory, the unbeatable Ground Zero, in his head that goes with it?

Izuku can’t help but compare everyone else to this impossible standard. His Alpha’s scent alone has ruined him for anyone else. Dating anyone else would just lead to disappointment when they failed to live up to his expectations. Besides, Izuku would feel guilty for dating someone else, almost like he'd be cheating. It's crazy and irrational, but that's how he feels.

Inadvertently, Izuku has found himself half-mated to a scent from an Alpha he’s never even met. He could try to wean himself off the scent and stop ordering his Alpha’s clothes altogether, but the idea of severing that connection to his Alpha, however tenuous, is almost too painful to bear. It’s not normal and it’s definitely not ideal, but Izuku just can’t let go.

Things might have continued like this forever, Izuku pining for an Alpha he’s never met and fantasizing about a pro hero that doesn’t even know he exists, if it hadn’t been for the villain attack.

Izuku’s walking to work from the train station like usual, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for the crosswalk signal to change, when there’s an explosion down the street. He eagerly turns toward the commotion, still fascinated by heroes and villains and all things quirk related, only to watch with muted horror as half a burning car comes sailing towards him. The people around him scream and scatter but Izuku stands still, frozen with shock. At the last second, he ducks, eyes squeezing shut as he expects to feel the impact. Instead, he hears a loud explosion right in front of him, a wave of heat and force that knocks him back on his ass. He peeks up between his fingers, glasses hanging askew, and finds Ground Zero staring down at him, sharp red eyes wide and shocked.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” he barks.

Izuku blinks back, confused. Ground Zero’s speaking to him like they know each other, but Izuku’s certain he would remember meeting the pro hero he’s been masturbating to for the better part of a year. He doesn’t understand until the very next second, when he inhales and tastes cinnamon apple and burnt sugar on the back of his tongue. Izuku’s breathing picks up, taking deep whiffs of that scent he’s come to love over the past year, so much more potent and mouth watering in person. His body’s response to that familiar, intoxicating Alpha scent is almost Pavlovian, and Izuku’s cheeks burn as he feels himself immediately get slick.

Ground Zero’s nostrils flare, like he can smell it on him, his pupils expanding until there’s only a ring of red left of his iris. The villain launches another car at them and Ground Zero throws out his arm, blasting it away without breaking eye contact with him. “Don’t move,” he orders Izuku, before blasting away to deal with the villain.

Izuku’s grateful he’s already sitting on the ground because he doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to, the shock of this revelation rocking him to the core. All this time, his Alpha’s been the real Ground Zero? He watches the pro hero fight with numb detachment. He’s so much louder and brighter in person, his explosions rocking the ground and sending heat waves through the very air.

Izuku groans, burying his face in his hands. It’s even more hopeless than he thought. Ground Zero’s amazing, there’s no way he’d be interested in meek, plain, Quirkless Izuku, especially after he’d made a mess of himself with just one whiff of his scent. Ground Zero must be disgusted with him.

Izuku can’t bear to watch the rest of the fight and struggles to his feet, trying to slink away before he can embarrass himself further. He doesn’t get very far before Ground Zero himself slams down in front of him, propelled by his explosions.

“Oi!” he shouts, stopping Izuku in his tracks with a gloved palm to his chest. “I thought I told you to stay put!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Izuku squeaks. Ground Zero grabs his arm and drags Izuku behind him, letting loose another ear splitting blast to repel the lamppost the villain threw their way. His quirk seems to be some sort of enhanced strength.

“Listen,” Ground Zero says, whirling back around. “I wanna ask you something. Does the name ‘King Explosion’ mean anything to you?”

“H-H-How….?” Izuku whispers, mind reeling. How does Ground Zero know about that?! The only one who would know would be...would be…. “Y-You, y-you’re….” Izuku stammers, shakes his head. This isn’t real, this isn’t happening. Izuku’s dead, lying crumpled under the car and this is his brain’s attempt to cope with the trauma, by coming up with this insane fantasy. Because he can’t be, Ground Zero can’t be King Explosion, Izuku’s most loyal customer, the Alpha that pays him ridiculous amounts for the most depraved requests.

“And you’re ‘Deku’, aren’t you?” Ground Zero asks, red eyes searching his intently. Izuku can only stare at him dumbly, mouth open.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” the explosive hero grins triumphantly. “Knew it had to be you, the way you write your thank you notes, you know you use the same phrasing on your order forms?”