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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?”

Chapter Text

“Happy 25th, man!” Kaminari crows, handing him a card with a slap on the back. Katsuki opens it and a plastic gift card falls out. He picks it up, his friends watching him with bated breath, and squints at it. It’s a prepaid subscription to one of those god awful mail services, the ones where desperate Alphas and Omegas buy clothes for their heats and ruts.

“It’s good for a year!” Kaminari shouts in his ear, slinging his arm around Katsuki’s shoulder. “After that you’ll have to pay for it yourself!”

“Fuck off!” Katsuki shouts back over the din of the crowded bar, chucking the gift card at Kaminari’s forehead while the rest of their friends laugh. The card falls back down onto the sticky surface of the bar and Katsuki takes a swig of his beer, eyes lingering on the black plastic square.

It’s just a joke, but it still stings. He’ll never admit it but he gets lonely too. His friends and former classmates rarely have time to get together like this anymore. He never sees them all in one place unless it's for some kind of event. Last time was Jirou and Momo's wedding and that was months ago. It was easier when they were in the dorms, but now they're all grown up, too busy with work and mates and families of their own.

It’s hard for Katsuki to ignore his unmated status when it’s constantly shoved in his face. He’s the last bachelor among his group of friends. (How that happened he’ll never know. Truly, it’s amazing all these dumbasses found mates with their heads so far up their own asses all the time.) He wouldn’t mind being the constant third wheel so much if he didn’t have to hear about it all the damn time.

Katsuki had to suffer through several surprise blind dates before his friends stopped trying, but they still give him shit for it. His own mother’s no better, constantly trying to set him up with every Omega model that works for her and complaining when he refuses. Hell, even when he’s just trying to get some goddamn groceries, he has to duck around the paparazzi and overly aggressive fans bombarding him with questions about his sex life.

He even has to hear about it at work. At every interview and press conference, somehow questions about his dating life crop up, every single time. All damn day he’s asked why he’s still unmated, what he looks for in an Omega, if he’s dating anyone yet.

He brushes off the questions, says he’s too busy with hero work to look for a mate, which is mostly true. “You try finding time to date someone when you’re working over 60 hours a week,” he bitches to his agency mandated therapist. She twirls her pen in her hand and points out that he’s taking on a lot of extra work himself. Probably, as she puts it, because he’s trying to compensate for the lack of meaningful relationships in his life outside of work.

Her words echo in Katsuki’s head as he drains the last of his beer, eyes flicking around to all the happy couples around him: Kirishima with his arm around Mina, Kaminari draped over Shinsou’s lap, Sero and Aoyama singing a duet on stage, hell, even Todoroki’s tucked against Inasa’s side. Katsuki feels a twinge in his chest. When no one’s looking, he impulsively snatches the card off the bar and shoves it into his jacket pocket. Five seconds later, Kirishima presses another beer into his hands. Katsuki grins and spends the rest of the night getting absolutely hammered.

He wakes up the next morning in his own bed, still fully dressed and squinting through the afternoon sunlight. He sits up and groans, clutching his head. It feels like it’s about to split open. He vaguely remembers getting dragged onstage to drunkenly sing karaoke at some point but not much beyond that. He’s not even sure how he got home last night. He stumbles into his kitchen and finds two open pizza boxes with only one slice left between them, along with a half eaten box of cheesy breadsticks, one of which is sticking out of an open container of marinara sauce. Katsuki groans, hoping he didn’t eat all of this himself but knowing that he probably did.

It’s not until a couple hours later, when he’s thrown away the mess from last night, showered, and dressed, that he finds the card for the mail service stuffed in his coat pocket. He went to shove his keys in there, on his way out to buy something with actual nutritional value, when his fingers brush over the smooth plastic. He fishes it out of his pocket and stares at it, contemplating his life choices, especially the very questionable ones he makes when he’s drunk. Then he flips the card onto his table with a muttered, “Fuckin’ Pikachu,” and stomps out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

The next day, Katsuki goes back to work. The plastic card gets lost under a stack of mail and he might’ve forgotten all about it if a package hadn’t shown up in his mailbox a week later. He handles it with care, half wondering if he should call the bomb squad because he doesn’t remember ordering anything, but it’s soft and squishy, and when he holds it up to his ear, he can’t hear any ticking. He doesn’t pick up the scent of any chemicals either, so he rips open the bubble wrapped envelope and pulls out the contents.

“What the fuck?”

He stares at the plastic bags filled with...handkerchiefs? He picks up the note that fell out with them and flips it open. He scans the page and can’t believe what he’s reading. It’s that goddamn mail service. He looks back at the pile of plastic bags, scowling. How the fuck did this even get here, he doesn’t remember using it! Then he thinks back to the night of his birthday party and groans. Was he so drunk and desperate that he ordered this shit online?! It’s possible. After all, he was capable enough to order takeout that night too.

He should just throw all this shit in the trash, but for some reason, he hesitates. He has been pretty pent up lately. It’s not like he can risk sleeping around with just anybody. He has a reputation as a pro hero to maintain and he’s not eager to land himself in a huge scandal by being caught on tape or worse, accidentally knocking up a one night stand like that idiot Monoma. Maybe Katsuki’s been pent up for too long because the more he thinks about actually ordering an Omega’s clothes, the more turned on he gets. Something about huffing an Omega’s used clothes is so fucking dirty that it makes Katsuki’s dick twitch in his pants. Fuck it, he thinks, it’s already paid for so he might as well try it.

He glances down at the note in his hand. According to this, apparently he agreed to sell his clothes too. He considers not doing it (his agency would kill him if they ever found out) but the thought of a bunch of Omegas getting off to his scent is pretty fucking hot, so he goes through with that too.

After mailing in the samples of his own scent, it takes another few days to get the package with the Omega scent samples. It’s stupid and he hates himself for it, but he’s really been looking forward to it. He really must be pent up because he’s been checking his mail obsessively for the last couple days and his heart kicks into overdrive when it finally arrives. His fingers curl around the package, digging into the soft cushion of the bubble wrapped envelope as he rides the elevator up to his penthouse, cock already half hard.

His excitement is short lived, however, because he’s not satisfied with any of the scents. One after the other, he takes a whiff of each sample and curls his lip, turning up his nose at every single one. Some of them aren’t terrible, but none of them are good, and the majority are overly sweet and reek of desperation. He throws down the last sample in disgust, heart sinking in his chest as he folds his arms across his chest, any arousal long gone. What a waste of time.

He gets up from his chair and kicks at its legs in frustration. He stomps through the massive, open living space and snatches up his laptop from the coffee table. He carries it to the couch and throws himself down onto it’s cushions with a huff, wrenching open the laptop and settling it on his thighs.

He types in the link for the website and grits his teeth when it pops up, eying the gaudy flashing text and revealing pictures with annoyance and distaste. This is so stupid, he should’ve just cancelled the subscription in the first place. He can’t believe he got his hopes up for this shit. He’s practically smashing down on the track pad as he clicks through the website.

Just his luck, he can’t remember what the hell he used as his username or password to create his account, so he has to spend a good fifteen minutes jumping through hoops to recover his information. Finally, he logs into the site, but it takes him another ten minutes to figure out how to cancel his account. It’s a tiny link hidden deep in the menu, probably to prevent users from cancelling. He clicks on the link and a pop-up appears.

It looks like you haven’t ordered anything yet, are you sure you want to continue? You can request a second sample package if the first wasn’t a match!

Katsuki hesitates. He can try again? He taps his finger on the keyboard as he thinks. Maybe this was just a bad batch. He still really needs to get off…. He could just give up and watch porn but it’s so fake and impersonal, it’s more likely to turn him off than get him going. Katsuki decides to give the mail service one more shot and clicks on the link to request a second sample package instead of cancelling his account.

The second package is slightly better (at least none of the scents make him gag this time) but there’s nothing that really stands out or grabs his attention. The third is much of the same, overly ripe scents that fail to spark any kind of arousal in him. After the fourth package, Katsuki starts wondering if something’s wrong. He’s gone through dozens of scents at this point, surely one of them should’ve sparked his desire.

By the fifth package, it's become personal. He tears into the package and starts ripping open the plastic bags, almost in a frenzy. He's going to find a goddamn match if it kills him because there’s nothing wrong with him, he’s not broken, it's this stupid, shitty mail service with it's subpar Omegas and -

Katsuki's world tilts to the side as desire slams into him like a truck. He stares down at the scrap of cloth in his hand, head swimming and heat searing through his veins as he keeps dragging in lungfuls of that scent. He’s not sure how to describe it. It’s warm and sweet, puts him in mind of freshly baked sugar cookies with - he holds the cloth up to his nose and takes another deep breath - maybe an undercurrent of vanilla? His dick twitches in his pants, mouth hanging open as he takes deep, panting breaths. His pulse thrums in his veins, matching the steady rhythm of mate mate mate that’s running on repeat in his head, overriding every other thought.

Katsuki makes a frustrated noise, something between a growl and whine as he rubs his cheek against the handkerchief like a cat. His fangs ache in his gums, itching to sink into an Omega that’s not here. Distantly, he’s aware that this shit isn’t normal, he shouldn’t be reacting this strongly just to an Omega’s scent, but all he can think about is how good they smell, so perfect and right, their scent filling his lungs and settling in his chest where it belongs, warm and soft.

Katsuki works his hand into his pants and grasps his cock, already hard and leaking, stroking it as he sniffs at the cloth. “Shit,” he swears, panting as he fists his cock, tongue swiping over his fangs to lap up the drool threatening to leak out of his mouth. This Omega, no, his Omega’s already making him produce venom in anticipation of making a mating mark and sealing the bond. Just the thought of claiming his Omega has Katsuki’s control unravelling like a spool of thread. He’s humping eagerly into his own hand as he squeezes his knot, the other dropping the handkerchief to slap down on the surface of the table, singing the wood as his palms spark.

Katsuki lets go of his cock with a shout, skin singed. He grips the table with both hands as his hips keep bucking up against empty air, cock twitching eagerly as if searching for the Omega he wants to bury it in. Head bowed, shoulders shaking, Katsuki screws his eyes shut as he spits and swears through the most intense orgasm of his life, coming completely untouched in his pants like a fucking teenager. Panting, Katsuki’s eyes crack open, staring blearly down at his own lap, where a dark stain is spreading across his crotch.

For a minute, that’s all he can do as he tries to get his bearings. Slowly, he lets go of the table, revealing scorch marks from his palms. He’s feeling a lot of things and having a hard time processing all of it while his head’s still foggy with lust. His eyes flick to the piece of cloth lying innocently against the dark walnut of the table as if it hadn’t just sparked the most visceral reaction Katsuki’s ever had to a scent.

“What the fuck.”

Katsuki just wanted to get off, he never expected this. This is...this is some True Mates shit. As soon as the thought pops into his head, he knows it’s true. He stares down at the piece of cloth in wonder. Whoever this Omega is, they’re his soulmate.

Body thrumming with residual energy, Katsuki stumbles over to his desk and starts digging around for the mail service card. On the back, there’s a customer service number. He wanders away from the desk, leaving the drawer open as he dials the number. He sits through an irritating ten minutes of smooth jazz before he realizes he’s still wearing the pants he just came in, so he puts the phone on speaker and changes while he waits. He’s just cinching the drawstrings on a pair of sweats when he’s put through to a customer service rep.

Katsuki tries to explain the situation. “Listen, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I just got a sample in the mail and I need to get the Omega’s contact information. I, I think they might be my mate,” he breathes out shakily, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, sir, but for security reasons we can’t release that kind of information. Now, if you’d like to place an order from that Omega’s sample, I can help you. What’s their serial number?”

“You’re not listening to me!” Katsuki shouts, hand tightening around the phone in his grip. “I’m not some stalker! This is True Mates shit I’m talking about here! This Omega is my soulmate, don’t you get that?!”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but even if that’s true, I can’t release that information. Our users value our service because our privacy policies protect their identities. Now, is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Katsuki's not used to being told no. He pushes the issue, even gets put through to a manager, but they tell him the same thing. Katsuki considers using his hero status to pressure them into giving him the Omega’s name, but he could get into serious trouble for that, so he hangs up in a rage.

Fuming, Katsuki paces his apartment, the scrap of cloth with his Omega’s scent on it clutched in his hand as he tries to think of some legal way around this, but he comes up with nothing. He ends up placing an order for his Omega’s scent because what else can he do? It’s the only option left and he can’t imagine spending his rut without his Omega’s scent now that he’s experienced it.

Katsuki lies awake in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling as he thinks about his Omega, wondering what they’re doing right now. He rolls over and stares out the wall of windows to the brightly lit city beyond. They’re out there somewhere and he doesn’t even know their name, doesn’t know what they look like, or how to begin searching for them. He twists his face into the pillow and sighs. He doesn’t sleep at all that night.

Much to his surprise, Katsuki gets an order for his scent the very next day. He’s on break from patrol, checking his phone, when he gets the email. He reads it, sipping on a can of cold coffee that’s bitter but strong. He completely forgot about sending out his clothes.

After discovering his True Mate’s scent, he’s hardly been able to think about anything else. Just the other day, Kirishima asked him if he needed to talk, since apparently he’d been spacing out so much. Katsuki was mortified that he’d let his focus slip on the job, all over some Omega, so he might’ve taken it out on his best friend. He slapped Kirishima upside the head and snapped at him that everything was fine. After promising Kirishima he’d come to him if he needed to talk, Katsuki made his own promise to himself to stop fixating on his Omega. He can’t afford to lose focus and neither can the people he protects.

Since then, Katsuki’s been doing his best to put his Omega out of his head, at least for now. The email, however, brings it all back to the surface. Katsuki sighs and leans back against the brick building next to the vending machine. His first instinct is to ignore the email completely. He doesn’t want to give his clothes away to anyone but his Omega. Then again…. His finger taps against his phone. His Omega might be the one who placed this order. After all, they’re using the mail service too. Maybe they found him and need his scent. Katsuki runs a hand through his hair and swallows thickly. He has to be a good Alpha, he has to provide for them.

So the minute Katsuki gets home, he strips and showers, then digs around in his dresser for a suitable shirt, a towel tied around his waist. He picks out a dark one made of some soft fabric. Omegas like soft things, he thinks, scenting it liberally. If this is for his Omega, he wants it to be potent enough to rub off on them, so everyone knows that they’re his and off limits. He mails out his shirt, fingers brushing over the package as he places it in the mailbox. He wishes there was more he could do for them.

In the days leading up to his rut, Katsuki’s more agitated than usual, his fuse shorter than ever. He wonders if it has anything to do with finding his True Mate. Their scent’s worn off from the first sample, which he’s kept tucked under his pillow, and he mourns the loss of their scent while waiting anxiously for their package.

When it finally arrives, Katsuki nearly tears the package apart in his haste to get at his Omega’s scent. He rips the plastic off their shirt and shakes it open. A note flutters down to the bedspread. Curious, Katsuki picks up the card and flips it over. It’s a handwritten, heartfelt note, asking him to please take care of himself and thanking him for ordering. Katsuki’s heart flutters, a grin stretching across his lips.

Based on the use of boku in the note, his Omega’s male. It’s not a name, but at least it’s something. Katsuki’s never been particular about gender, cares more about personality, so he’s pleased to learn his Omega’s so sweet and caring. Turns out his Omega’s a nerd too. The shirt in his other hand has an old All Might design, but it’s cute. Everything about his Omega is cute, Katsuki thinks, nuzzling the fabric drenched with his scent.

Fuck, it’s even more potent than the first time. It’s stronger, sweeter, and Katsuki can’t get enough of it. Heat prickling under his skin, he slides his hand into his pants and starts jerking himself off as he noses the shirt, chest rumbling with a deep, satisfied purr. His knot swells embarrassingly quickly in his hand and he comes with a snarl, spilling into his hand. His Omega’s scent triggers his rut early and he spends it humping the bed, stroking his cock over and over as he holds his Omega’s shirt over his face, getting high off their scent.

When Katsuki comes out of his rut a few days later, he’s clutching his Omega’s shirt to his chest. He stretches out with a groan, hand still wrapped around the fabric of the shirt. He’s feeling more relaxed after this rut than he’s ever been in years.

Of course, it doesn’t last. After showering, Katsuki cleans up, eats, then goes right back to work. He’s anxious to get back onto patrol. After all, he has to maintain his status as the number one hero. Nothing’s changed in his brief absence but Katsuki worked hard to earn his spot and he intends to keep it. Work’s a good distraction, but in the back of his mind, Katsuki can’t help but think about his Omega. He’s out there, somewhere, and Katsuki’s going to find him.

In the meantime, he does his research and figures out a way to take care of his Omega, at least financially. By placing specialty orders from him, Katsuki can send him ridiculous sums of money. It works out great for Katsuki too because he can tell him what he wants them to scent, and what he wants is his Omega’s panties.

He spends hours scouring the internet for the perfect pair. He keeps getting distracted and has to stop to jerk off as he imagines his Omega wearing each pair. Lilac panties with sheer panelling on the waist, leaving only a small triangle of fabric over the crotch. Katsuki imagines his Omega’s little pink cock, hard and leaking, staining the little triangle of fabric dark with his cum. There’s another pair, pale pink and entirely sheer, with cutouts in the back held together by delicate straps. Katsuki imagines tearing them to the side to sink into his Omega’s tight, wet heat. By the time he finally settles on a pair made entirely of sheer baby blue lace and trimmed with delicate little bows, his cock is over sensitive from coming so many times.

Katsuki’s overjoyed when his Omega accepts his request and sends the panties to him. They arrive wrapped in pastel wrapping paper and tied together with a bow, the personalized thank you card in his Omega’s neat handwriting tucked inside. Thank you so much for ordering, King Explosion! I hope you like them as much as I liked wearing them! ♡

Katsuki smiles and sets the note to the side. He groans when he pulls the panties carefully out of their wrapping, fingers brushing over the textured fabric. He lifts them up like they’re made of spun gold and, to him, they might as well be. He holds the soft lace to his nose and breathes in deeply, dick twitching in his pants. They smell so good, that heady combination of vanilla and sugar cookies, so sweet it’s literally mouth watering.

Katsuki keens, low in the back of his throat, and quickly sheds his clothes. He sits on the edge of his bed, panties clutched in his hand. He lifts them up to his nose and slides his other hand down his chest. He plucks at his own nipples, twisting and pulling roughly as his cock leaks and twitches against his belly, taking deep breaths of his Omega’s intoxicating scent. Impatient, Katsuki slides his hand down lower. He teases himself, breath hitching as he brushes his fingertips over his aching cock to fondle his balls, rolling them gently between his calloused fingers.

“Fuck,” Katsuki groans, nosing the sweet smelling lace draped over the lower half of his face. His breath comes in harsh pants as he drags his fingers up, rubbing against the slight swell of his knot before grasping his cock firmly. Pleasure sparking in his veins, Katsuki starts working his hand over his cock as he conjures up an image of an Omega just his type: dark haired and small enough for him to toss around, with a pair of pretty eyes and a nice ass. He imagines pulling these panties down his Omega’s full, round ass and bending him over his lap.

“Mmf, fuck,” Katsuki hisses under his breath, flicking the head of his cock with his thumb, over and over, hips twitching as he teases himself. He imagines raining down sharp slaps against his Omega’s ass, leaving red handprints all over his skin. Heat explodes in Katsuki’s gut and he growls, stroking himself faster. Curses spill out of his bitten lips, blood pumping hot through his veins as he pictures his Omega squirming in his lap, crying out as he spanks him, firm ass jiggling with each blow.

“Hah, hah,” Katsuki pants and trembles, body gone taught as he strokes himself. He imagines his Omega, ass covered in red handprints, sobbing and writhing in his lap, begging Katsuki to fuck him and it’s too much. Katsuki throws his head back as he squeezes his knot and gasps, balls drawing up tight as he comes with his Omega’s scent filling his nose. He falls back against the bed, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He reaches up and drags the panties off his face. “Fuck,” he swears, staring up at the ceiling, eyes wide.

He spends the rest of his rut like that, clutching his Omega’s panties to his face as he jerks himself off furiously for three straight days. When he comes out of his rut, he reluctantly puts the cum-stained panties in the wash. Even though they’ve lost his Omega’s scent, Katsuki still keeps them. As he keeps ordering more of his Omega’s panties, his collection grows. He keeps all the panties his Omega sends him in a special drawer and, from time to time, he takes them out, wraps them around his cock and gets off to the slide of the lace and satin against his hard length.

The notes go into a keepsake box, all except two. One he keeps taped to the inside of his locker door at the agency and the other he carries in the pocket of his hero uniform. He brushes his fingers over it for good luck. Good luck, you can do it! It reads, little hearts drawn around the message. When a building falls down around him during a rescue mission, he hunches over himself, curling up in the rubble, and that little note in his pocket keeps him sane for the next several hours he stays trapped.

For all the rescue missions gone bad, the hard fights, the nights he loses people and sees shit no one should have to see, he curls his hand around the edges of that note and remembers that somewhere out there, his Omega’s cheering him on. It’s enough to to get him through, to give him hope, but he can’t help but imagine how much better it would be to come home to him for real. Someone to share his life with, who welcomes him home with warm, loving arms when the high of hero work’s worn off at the end of the day, instead of coming home to a cold, empty apartment.

Without a name or even a description of his Omega, it feels like just a fantasy, but Katsuki does get a lead. It’s the handwritten notes that tip him off. When he receives a request for a sweatshirt with his scent, Katsuki stares at his computer screen, rereading the request over and over, heart pounding. The notes his Omega send and the request from this user, Deku, contain the same exact wording.

Now, Katsuki doesn’t have any other proof that this Deku and his Omega are the same person, and maybe part of it is wishful thinking, but Katsuki trusts his instincts. This can’t be a coincidence. He didn’t believe in fate before, but up until a couple months ago, he didn’t believe True Mates existed either. He’s convinced this is a sign from the universe. His Omega found him and they’re out there getting off on his scent as much as he is on theirs.

Katsuki stands up abruptly and starts to pace, hands shaking. It’s torture knowing that his Omega’s right there, just out of reach. They’re trading clothes but they don’t even know each other’s real names. Katsuki feels so frustrated. He’s so desperate to meet him, just wants to take care of him like a good Alpha, but all he can do with all these fucking rules and restrictions is order his clothes and send his in return. His hands, sparking, curl into fists. He can’t be with his Omega, but at least he can wear Katsuki’s clothes, his colors, and his scent. So he sends Deku an official Ground Zero sweatshirt. The enthusiastic response he gets, praise and requests for more, makes Katsuki grin ear to ear. Deku has to be his True Mate, he just has to be, he’s responding so well to him, like it’s instinctive, like they’re mates already.

Katsuki sits in front of his computer and jerks off again, imagining Deku as a curvy, dark haired Omega on his knees, wearing the Ground Zero sweater and nothing else, imagines coming across his pretty face, mouth open and eager for him. His Omega’s good, so good for him, so eager and willing to please. Katsuki snarls as he comes, knot pulsing as he shoots thick ropes of cum all over his hand. He groans and wipes his filthy hand off on his jeans.

His orgasm doesn’t leave him feeling entirely satisfied. It’s hardly enough anymore, jerking it to the scent of his Omega alone is frustrating. Katsuki’s orders are getting more lewd but he can’t help it. He wants more, he wants Deku under him for real, but since Katsuki can’t have that, he settles for the next best thing. He wants to know what Deku smells like when he’s in heat, so Katsuki finally places an order for a pair of Ground Zero themed panties soaked with Deku’s slick.

Katsuki agonizes over whether or not he’s pushed too far, wonders if his Omega’s dirty enough to do it. He can hardly believe it when he gets the notification that his order’s in the mail. He tracks the package almost obsessively, sneaking looks at his phone even during patrol. He feels dirty, like a fucking pervert, but he’s too turned on to care.

When he gets home, the unassuming package rests in his mailbox. Just thinking about what’s inside is enough to make Katsuki hard and he has to hold the bubble-wrapped envelope in front of his crotch on the elevator ride up to his apartment to hide his erection. He strips out of his clothes, heat already prickling under his skin as he carefully slits the package open.

Katsuki pulls the wrapping paper off and groans, about to pop a knot just from the potent scent coming off the black satin. His chest heaves as he drags in deep lungfuls of Deku’s intoxicating scent, sweet and warm, so intense that it’s almost too fucking much. He’s in heat and ready to pup and it kicks Katsuki’s rut into overdrive. He snarls, fangs aching, and tears into a pillow, desperate to act on the primal urge to claim.

Katsuki wraps a hand around his knot, squeezing the bulbous base almost painfully, trying not to come like a fucking teenager at the first whiff. Fuck but it’s good, he’s salivating like a fucking dog and humping his own hand like one too, keening in the back of his throat as he noses the folds of the silky fabric.

The panties are soft and pretty, just like he imagines Deku, all curvy hips and thick thighs, a tight ass that squeezes and ripples around his knot, sucking him in and milking him dry until there’s nothing left, his belly round with Katsuki’s cum. He groans at the thought. He wants to knot him, breed him, wants him stuffed with his pups.

His whole body’s strung taught, heat moving under his skin like molten lava, about to split open and spill over as he touches himself. He twists his face to the side and buries his face in Deku’s panties, tongue flicking out instinctively to taste their slick. Katsuki whimpers and has to squeeze his own knot again to keep himself from coming, hips stuttering against his hand.

He sucks the panties into his mouth and moans around the fabric as he starts stroking himself again. He’s so far gone on the taste of Deku’s slick and the scent of his heat that Katsuki doesn’t give a fuck that this is the nastiest thing he’s ever done. He wants to die this way, smothered by Deku’s fat ass as he sits on his face, drowning in Deku’s slick as he laps up every last honey sweet drop.

Sweat dripping down his temples, Katsuki jerks himself off roughly, pressure and heat building in his gut as he strokes himself faster and faster, calloused palms sliding over the velvet smooth skin of his hard length. His breath comes in laboured gasps, skin glistening with sweat as he imagines all the things he wants to do to his Omega, hips lifting off the bed as he bucks into his grip.

He wants to fuck Deku open with his tongue before splitting him open on his knot, pulling on Deku’s dark hair and fucking him into the mattress until he’s a sobbing, fucked out mess. Katsuki wants to drive his knot deep into him and fill him with his seed, over and over. He wants to see just how much Deku can take, wants to breed him until he’s bulging, so fucking full he looks pregnant, and then fist him until Katsuki’s cum spills out around his wrist and drips down Deku’s thick thighs.

Toes curling, Katsuki comes so hard his vision whites out, spurting all over his chest, cock twitching with every pulse. He lets go of his over-sensitive cock and it bobs in the air, knot throbbing as he keeps coming, thick ropes of white that stretch all the way up to his chin. He sobs and spreads his legs, powerful thighs trembling as he knots empty air. His orgasm seems to go on forever, pleasure almost turned painful, but that makes it even better, sends shivers up Katsuki’s spine as he rides it out, loud gasps and moans spilling from his lips.

Just when he thinks it’s over, his cock starts to fill out and harden again. Katsuki gnashes his teeth and, tears trickling out of his eyes, starts jerking off again, lapping at the crotch of the panties, tongue dragging over the slick-stained satin and lace.

What follows is the most intense and destructive rut he’s ever had. He wakes up to find feathers from ripped open pillows scattered across the bed, the floor, even buried in his hair. His sheets are torn and ripped and there’s scorch marks all over the place, the sheets, the pillows, even the headboard.

After cleaning up the mess and showering, he drags himself to a furniture store to replace everything. He finds himself picking out soft blankets and squashy pillows, things Deku might use to line his nest, and Katsuki’s heart thumps painfully. He clutches at his chest, twisting the fabric of his shirt in his hand.

He feels the absence of his True Mate like a physical ache. With every rut that’s passed since finding him, it’s only gotten worse. He thinks about Deku all the fucking time, wonders if he’s happy, if he’s safe, if he’s getting enough to eat. Katsuki looks for him in every Omega he meets, constantly on alert, scenting the air every time he walks into a room. When he’s not working, he cleans and rearranges his apartment obsessively, unable to stop himself from trying to please a mate that’s not there. It’s eating away at him, instincts gnawing at the back of his mind to do something, anything, to get Deku to stay, because his scent comes and goes so frequently and Katsuki misses it.

Katsuki’s starting to wonder if he’ll ever meet his True Mate, if he should just give in and use his hero name to get Deku’s information from the mail service, consequences be damned, because he can’t stand this much longer. When he goes into work later that day, he’s itching for a fight, some kind of distraction, and he finds it not ten minutes into his shift.

There’s a villain throwing some kind of tantrum downtown, smashing up cars and tossing them around. Katsuki’s first on the scene. He lands and sends an explosion toward the villain, setting fire to a few cars in the process. The villain hefts one of them up and throws it at him. Katsuki curses and dodges out of the way, watches in horror as the burning shell of the car goes sailing towards a crowd of civilians. They scream and scatter, all except one. Katsuki launches himself towards them as fast as he can and whirls around, blasting the car away just in time. Panting from the effort, Katsuki takes one deep breath and his whole body goes rigid. Time seems to slow down as he turns around and finds his Omega staring up at him from the ground.

Fuck, he's even more beautiful than Katsuki ever imagined. Big, sparkly green doe eyes blink back at him behind round glasses perched on his button nose. His pouty pink lips are open in shock and there’s freckles scattered like stardust across his flushed cheeks. He’s drowning in a sweater that’s two sizes too big for him and Katsuki’s heart lurches when he recognizes the design. It’s one of the Ground Zero sweaters he sent him. Fuck, his Omega’s here, right in front of him, wearing his clothes, his colors, and the scent coming off him is...fuck, it’s so much more potent in person, rich and warm and sweet.

Katsuki blurts out “What the fuck are you doing here?!” and immediately wants to punch himself. He didn’t mean for it to come out so rude, he’s just shocked because of all the times he imagined meeting his True Mate, he never imagined it happening during a villain attack. He’s terrified too because if he’d been just a second slower, he would’ve lost him. His instincts are thrown into overdrive, torn between the delirious high of being in his Omega’s presence at long last and the overwhelming need to protect him.

Deku’s only response is to gape at him, flush darkening as his scent suddenly flares with arousal. Katsuki sucks in a sharp breath, pants suddenly uncomfortably tight as he responds automatically to his Omega’s aroused scent. Katsuki takes another step towards him, but before he can say anything, he hears something large whistling through the air as it rushes towards them. Katsuki throws out his arm to set off an explosion, repelling whatever it was easily. Annoyance prickles under Katsuki’s skin at the interruption. “Don’t move,” he orders his Omega before turning around to finish the fight.

Watch me, he thinks, grinning ferociously as his palms spark, keep your eyes on me. Don't think about the villain, don't even look at them. Watch me, keep your eyes on me. I'm gonna win, gonna keep you safe.

Katsuki launches himself into the air and sets off a series of explosions, spinning through the air as he builds up momentum to hit the villain with a Howitzer Impact, showing off just a little. The massive explosion hits the villain and sends shockwaves through the whole block, setting off car alarms and shattering windows. Katsuki skips backwards in the air to put some distance between himself and the villain and looks back over his shoulder to see if Deku’s impressed.

Katsuki’s grin falters. Deku’s not even watching, he’s trying to run away, and Katsuki panics. He can’t let him get away, not now that he’s finally found him! He flips in midair and blasts backwards to land in front of Deku, cutting off his escape. “Oi! I thought I told you to stay put!” he shouts, stopping him with a hand to his chest.

“I-I’m sorry!” Deku squeaks, eyes wide. Katsuki pulls him aside with a growl, blasting away a lamp post the villain sends soaring in their direction.

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

“H-H-How….?” Deku stammers, whole body trembling, color draining from his face. He seems to be having trouble processing all of this, probably still in shock from his earlier near death experience. “Y-You, y-you’re….”

Katsuki probably shouldn’t press him right now but he has to know. “And you’re ‘Deku’, aren’t you?” he asks, staring intently into his wide, pretty eyes. Recognition and surprise flashes through them, and Katsuki 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?”

“I, I - what?” Deku wheezes, swaying on his feet, lashes fluttering.

“Oi!” Katsuki cries, catching him before he falls. Other heroes have arrived on the scene and they’re finishing up the fight, the battle raging in the background as Katsuki wraps his arms around Deku and pulls him against his chest.

Deku looks up at him, blinking slowly. “This is a dream, right?” he whispers, lips trembling, huge eyes swimming with tears.

“No, Deku, this is real,” Katsuki murmurs, brushing a thumb over Deku’s freckled cheek, wiping away the trail of warm tears that have finally spilled over. Katsuki’s heart aches. His Omega should never cry, not while he’s here. Deku’s hand curls around the front of Katsuki’s costume, breath hitching.

“How?” Deku asks, voice cracking.

“Let me take you out on a date and I’ll tell you all about it.”