Chapter Text
Izuku has been a part of the Han’ei Scent Exchange for almost a year now and he’s never gotten a single return token from an alpha.
But, by this point, he’s not really all that surprised.
Han’ei isn’t the first service he’s signed up for.
Hell, it’s not even the second or the third service he’s joined.
Izuku, a few years onto the pro heroes scene, achingly lonely, and still painfully awkward in any kind of non-heroics-related social interactions, had started out by signing up for the popular site Mate-Match.
He’d thought it was a good idea, a way to get to know someone first before bringing things like his career into the mix. Or worse, submitting to the mortifying ordeal that is first-time casual face-to-face conversation with a complete stranger.
Instead, Izuku had quickly realized that, just like in the days of his less-than-glorious youth, he’d actually end up spending more time arguing with bigoted assholes in his DMs than actually getting to know anyone.
After that realization had set in, Izuku had decided that, since the idea of going to a bar or basically anywhere else with the intention of meeting someone was just a step below getting set on fire again on his to-do list, it was time to try a more orderly and traditional approach.
So he’d signed up for one of the more reputable scent exchange programs he’d seen advertised.
Which had, of course, also not worked out and had ended up snowballing instead.
There’d been the Ai Corporation first, and then Koi Company which had quickly been followed by Unmei United for a while before Izuku had busted them for drug smuggling.
Hell, Inko had even taken it upon herself to sign him up for an online service she’d found a few years back that had, to both of their horrors, ended up being little more than a fetish site.
Either way the results had all been the same.
Izuku never received a single return offer or any other sign of interest from any other client. Eventually, he’d even been quietly asked to discontinue his account with each service thanks to a number of complaints.
Thankfully Han’ei has, so far, been far more professional than those other companies had ended up being. But that doesn’t mean Izuku will be surprised if he eventually gets that same kind of rejection letter from them though.
Hopefully, if or when it does come to that, whoever is in charge of such things at Han’ei will stick to a simple form letter.
He’d rather they not take it upon themselves to scrounge up the absolute gall to suggest scent therapy or a variety of dietary changes to better his chances of finding an alpha like some companies have in the past. Because if Izuku has gone this long without anyone showing the slightest bit of interest in his scent, or occasionally even taking the time to call in and complain about it, then there must be something wrong with him.
It’s all a load of sexist bullshit of course. Just one of a million different microaggressions built into a society still attempting to shake off its outdated ideals. But at this point in his life, Izuku’s used to it even if it does still piss him off.
And, if he’s being completely honest about the situation, he can’t actually blame them. At least not where he, specifically, is concerned.
Because Izuku is more than aware of the fact that his scent is … overwhelming to most people.
It’s always been like that. Growing up Inko’s budget was constantly strained by the need to buy top-of-the-line scent-dampening patches for Izuku even as a small child. Where every other kid around him had been fine with the cheaper, brightly colored training patches, Izuku had been on adult patches since he was six and had been upgraded to a prescription-only patch by the time he hit puberty.
He’d gotten in trouble on and off as a kid for his scent even before he’d presented.
There had been more than one parent-teacher meeting in elementary school where Izuku’s hygiene and Inko’s mothering had been called into question. Especially once his quirk status had become known.
As he’d grown older he’d had to sit out at recess or had been regulated to the back of the classroom, desk pushed up against an open window no matter the weather, or just forced out into the hall instead.
But, most humiliating of all, had been the way Izuku had more than once been called into the staff office in middle school to be screamed at for ‘attempting to emotionally manipulate his teachers and classmates.’
Leaving public education behind to be trained one-on-one by All Might and his circle had honestly been one of the best things to ever happen to Izuku.
Not only for the more obvious reasons but also because his status as an apprentice gave him access to a steady supply of hero-grade scent-dampening patches. Which, by that point, had become an absolute necessity.
Because, as it turns out, receiving One for All had only exacerbated the entire situation.
Not only was Izuku’s natural scent already strong but by the time he’d been a year into his training with Gran Torino it had mutated into something that had often been described by others as … unsettling.
Threatening, even.
And it had only continued to grow as he settled further and further into his power, mastering more aspects of One for All and truly making the quirk his own.
It was something that all of the former holders had also had to deal with apparently but none of them had started with a base scent as strong as Izuku’s had been. And none of them had ever interacted with the quirk, touched on and embraced all the different facets of it, like Izuku had and still does.
Even Toshinori-sensei, who had held the quirk for decades and was seen by many as the pinnacle of alpha-hood, hadn’t had his own scent enhanced as greatly as Izuku had.
He was, yet again, an outlier.
In the end though, Izuku's only real choice had been to learn to adjust.
And so he had.
He’d learned to live with the new twist to the constant low-grade scent leakage he’d already been living with since he was a child. With how most adults, and especially alphas, can’t help the way they instinctively shy away from him at first contact. Until, most times, they recognize him as a hero and grit their teeth to try and slide closer.
The one bright side to the entire situation is the way that, in an abrupt reversal from his childhood, most children tend to flock to him unabashedly and eagerly nowadays.
Kids who get within scenting range always seem sure all the way down to their souls that Izuku will protect them. Even the ones who don’t immediately recognize him as Dekiru. He’s just as likely to be approached by kids outside of his costume as he is in it these days. Which has led him into a number of interesting situations over the years.
So, needless to say, Izuku wears his scent patches religiously, throws himself even harder into being a hero, and doesn’t hold much hope of ever finding someone who will actually find him romantically appealing. At least not without the fame or everything else that comes hand-in-hand with pro heroics coming into play.
Which is why Izuku feels completely justified with the way he freezes and stares, mystified, at the telltale red of the Han’ei box sitting on the little incoming mail platform beside his door.
For a split second Izuku gives serious consideration to it being a trick of some sort. Maybe someone has managed to get past the security screenings all of his mail goes through and send him another bomb.
He shakes the thought off pretty quickly though. The security system he’d had installed through Hatsume Inc. after the last incident was calibrated to pick up any incendiary devices within a hundred yards of the house Izuku had been gifted by Toshinori-sensei. He’d even paid extra for the no-harm sonic bug-repellent feature too.
Izuku still picks the package up gingerly though, still cradles it in his hands like it really is going to explode, as he makes his way into the house and shuts the door behind him.
He places it on his kitchen counter and then goes to do what his mama always taught him to do during times of uncertainty or stress.
Make tea and do his best not to cry.
Izuku ends up engaged in a one-sided staring contest with the box as the electric kettle bubbles away behind him.
“Alright,” Izuku finally pulls himself together enough to say, both hands coming up to slap lightly at his puffed-out cheeks, “I’m an adult and a hero and I am not afraid of a box.”
Correction, Izuku is absolutely terrified of this box in particular.
Because it might not be anything as mundane as a bomb but what if he was right earlier and it really is another rejection letter? Or since it’s in a box maybe it’s like an entire rejection packet. Something fancy and upscale to live up to Han’ei’s reputation while also outlining all the ways and reasons Izuku should go find the deepest, darkest hole possible to bury himself in because he’s a horrible omega with a horrible scent and the only people who will ever love him will be his mom and Toshinori-sensei and that’s only because they’re obligated and even all the cats and kids who seem to really like him will end up hating him one day too so he might as well just give up now and become an ice fisherman while he’s ahea-
Izuku forces himself to suck in a deep, steadying breath before he can spiral any further.
Those kinds of thoughts, for all that they come so easily, aren’t actually helpful. Izuku knows that they aren’t.
All they’re going to do is make him feel bad about himself and distract him from dealing with the situation right in front of him.
Fresh determination welling up within him, Izuku squares his shoulders and reaches over to pull the box closer.
Getting it open is easy enough but Izuku feels his breath catch as soon as he looks inside.
Because this …
This really is a response.
An alpha had liked his scent enough to send him a token in return.
The first one Izuku has ever gotten.
Izuku pulls the vacuum-sealed packet out of the box with a certain sort of reverence. Then, unable to help his curiosity, he flips it over in his hands to get a better look at the token.
Whatever it is he’s been sent doesn’t look like a handkerchief. The package is too thick and Izuku’s pretty sure he can see fringe or tassels of some sort sticking out of the side of the obviously folded lump of gunmetal gray something he’s been sent.
Actually, now that he’s really looking at it, Izuku’s pretty sure this token is a scarf.
Just the thought is enough to make him blush just a bit.
A scarf isn’t inappropriate, not really, but it is considered rather forward for a first-time scent token given that scarves are meant to be worn around the neck.
So it’s a far more intimate and personal token than the relatively impersonal handkerchiefs Izuku has always sent out, even with the little rabbit he always includes on the corner.
He can’t help but wonder just what, exactly, this choice of token says about the alpha who’d sent it.
But whatever questions Izuku might have aren’t things he’s going to find out just sitting around twiddling his thumbs and procrastinating because of nerves.
And yet, just when Izuku goes to pop the scent seal, something stops him.
Because what if Izuku doesn’t like this alpha’s scent in return?
That would be the exact kind of thing to happen to him too, Izuku despairs.
Someone finally finds his scent appealing on a personal level, appealing enough to offer their own in return, and Izuku’s luck would have him absolutely hating theirs instead.
It would honestly be just the tiniest bit devastating, Izuku can’t deny that.
But … well Izuku’s not sure if he’s willing to let something like that stop him. Not really. Not falling head over heels at first scent with this alpha’s token doesn’t have to mean the end of this exchange unless Izuku wants it to.
So long as this alpha’s scent doesn’t immediately and violently repulse him then Izuku can still give this entire thing a try. Can still agree to this exchange and try to see if it could possibly go somewhere. Time, exposure, and getting to know someone has had a long-documented impact on scent reception in the past. Izuku’s willing to take the chance and put in the work here if necessary.
Besides, it’s not like he’s swimming in offers either way so being picky right off the bat probably isn’t the best course of action.
Beggars can’t be choosers, as the western saying goes.
Resolve reaffirmed, Izuku pops the scent seal.
He has enough time to take in a deep breath and then …
Ecstasy.
All Izuku knows after that first inhale is some rapturous mix of need and heat.
He loses himself to it without a second thought, some giddy part of him more than willing to be thrown headfirst into the inferno, to be dragged down beneath the surface.
Izuku only comes back to himself minutes, or maybe hours he’s not totally sure, later to find that his pants are shredded and he has three fingers buried deep in his practically dripping cunt. He’s been fucking himself with his own hand right there on his kitchen floor so hard that his wrist actually hurts.
It’s not enough to make him stop though, not until he cums again, keening against the criminally soft fabric of the scarf he’s clutching to his face with his free hand.
Dazed, legs shaking, Izuku stays there on his floor for a while before he finally manages to gather the strength to push himself up onto his feet. Even then he has to stand there for a few moments, a slick covered palm smearing across his countertop as he tries to keep himself upright.
It ends up being a bit of a struggle to make it to his bedroom. His legs are weak and he keeps stumbling against his walls. Izuku even has to stop more than once to bury his fingers back inside of himself, desperate to erase the aching emptiness.
By the time he actually manages to make it to his bed, Izuku feels half-delirious and half like he’s going to come out of his skin if he doesn’t keep touching himself.
He doesn’t even bother to fight the urge this time either, still doesn’t feel the need to.
Instead, Izuku leans right back into it. He wraps that scarf around his neck so that he can have both of his hands free to work while still keeping that scent close, and then he lets himself go.
~~~
Later, much later, laid out on his ruined bed, blissed-out, panting, and covered with his own slick with that scarf pressed firmly to his face, Izuku knows one thing for sure:
Whatever alpha the ID number A-414425 belongs to smells like everything Izuku’s ever dreamed of and more.
~~~
Izuku spends the majority of his two gloriously free days wrapped up in that scarf, luxuriating in the feel of it sliding across his skin or tightening around his neck when he pulls just right, before the scent finally fades all the way out.
It’s honestly not a surprise, Izuku’s had it wrapped around some part of his body nonstop and has practically drenched it with sweat and slick.
But that doesn’t stop the way he immediately begins to mourn the thing.
The loss of that scent, all leather and nighttime and something that just makes Izuku’s spine tingle and his instincts whine, hits him like a blow to the chest.
He wants it back. Wants to wrap it around himself and hide inside of it. Wants it to be pressed down into every inch of his body until it’s his to keep for all eternity. He wants to get fucked slow and deep or fast and hard over and over again with that scent pressing in around him from all sides.
He wants to see firsthand if the alpha attached to it will feel and taste as good as they smell.
Which, of course, means that there’s only one thing Izuku can do.
He needs to lock this exchange, and this alpha, down.
~~~
Except, like with most things that aren’t heroics or quirk analysis related, that’s something easier said than done for Izuku and the backseat driver to his life that is his anxiety.
One hand still fiddling with the now clean scarf that’s once more wrapped around his neck, Izuku gnaws absently on the side of his other hand and paces around his living room.
He’s already debated for longer than was probably necessary about what to send back to his that alpha. About what would be the right type of token to say that Izuku not only accepts deepening this exchange but is actively pleased with the idea.
For a moment he’d thought about sending the scarf back, still filthy with slick, but had quickly strangled that thought and tossed it to the furthest reaches of his mind.
That was not the kind of thing he could ever possibly imagine doing with someone whose name he didn’t even know. And he didn’t want to run the risk of offending this alpha if they had more modest sensibilities.
Stress clawing at the edges of his nerves, Izuku finds himself cleaning. He ends up scrubbing down his kitchen, dusting the living room for a second time, and then deconstructing and meticulously reconstructing his bed.
It’s not until he finds himself fretting with his pillows on his honestly self-indulgently large round bed and mentally going over the best ways to defend his room, about what kind of mini-fridge he could buy and what recipes he bakes best, that Izuku realizes that he’s done nothing but get himself worked up in an entirely different way.
Hell, he hasn’t even met this alpha yet and he’s practically nesting. Thinking about making his bed look appealing and about his most impressive recipes and ways to stock and defend their den from the inside.
Outside of play-nesting as a kid and the comfort habits he’s picked up over the years, Izuku’s never felt like this before.
It’s enough to send him reeling just a bit.
So Izuku knuckles down and does the one thing he still can’t believe he has the option of doing these days.
He phones a friend.
“It’s three-thirty on a Sunday afternoon,” a low, scratchy voice rasps. “If you’re not already dying you will be soon.”
“Bold of you to assume you could kill me before this anxiety does,” Izuku shoots back.
“Point,” Hitoshi agrees, attitude abruptly shifting to something much closer to pleasant. Or as close to closer-to-pleasant as Hitoshi ever actually gets. “You never call this early unless it’s an emergency but I don’t hear any screaming in the background so what’s going on Zu? Wait, is this a clean-up-only situation? Because if we’re hiding a body you’re gonna owe me baked goods. Homemade, not store-bought.”
“You know how I’m signed on with Han’ei right?” Izuku asks, breezing right over Hitoshi’s everything. “The scent exchange thing?”
“Still think you should let me set you up for real this time or at least just walk around outside shirtless for a while instead 'cause you’d absolutely find someone a lot easier that way,” Hitoshi drawls. “But yeah, I remember.”
“Well,” Izuku takes a deep breath, “you remember how I told you I’ve been sending out handkerchiefs all this time right? And that’s worked so far but now I need to know what kind of scent token says ‘hi yes strange alpha whose name I don’t actually know, I know this is only our second exchange but I’d really like this to continue because I’m pretty sure I want you to fuck me raw based on scent alone and please tell me what your favorite dessert is because if I don’t bake something soon for you I might actually die’ but like not in an overbearing and inappropriate kind of way and more of a respectable and not at all a desperate omega looking for a serious commitment kind of way?”
There’s a pause.
“Your lung capacity really is going to make someone very very happy one day,” Hitoshi replies, something like a dry sort of awe in his voice.
“Hitoshi!” Izuku whines, high-pitched and desperate.
There’s a burst of cackling laughter.
“Sorry, sorry,” Hitoshi finally apologizes after a bit even though they both know he’s not. “Why don’t you take it from the top, Zu? Tell me what’s going on with some detail instead of that verbal keyboard smash.”
“An alpha actually sent me a return token,” Izuku manages to get out, one hand tugging at the scarf. “And it was … Hitoshi the scent. I’ve never … I have to send something back but I don’t want it to just be another handkerchief. You’re an alpha, you know what they like, so help me.”
“First, I’m barely an alpha,” Hitoshi feels the need to point out yet again. “Honestly, I’m barely a functioning person in any way that actually counts so I’m not sure I’m the best person for this.”
“My other two options are Toshinori-sensei and Gran,” Izuku points out in return.
“On the other hand I’m somehow leagues better than either of those choices when it comes to this kind of advice,” Hitoshi is quick to admit. “Which is really saying a lot if we’re being honest here.”
“Plus you’re one of the only people our age not abjectly terrified by my scent,” Izuku reminds him, neatly sidestepping the bulk of Hitoshi’s issues with his own alpha-hood.
That’s a conversation Izuku has scheduled to pick back up on at a later time. And this time he has an entire presentation prepared to back up his points so Hitoshi won’t be able to brush him off. It’s only a matter of finding the right time, and an easily secured room, to spring it on him.
“Oh no,” Hitoshi denies lazily, “I’m still terrified. It’s just that actually knowing you is way scarier than your scent could ever be so it kind of evens out. It’s honestly almost relaxing to me nowadays. Makes me feel all safe and snug.”
“I take it back,” Izuku sighs, “maybe you are a child.”
Hitoshi snickers meanly across the line.
“No, but seriously,” Hitoshi finally picks the thread of their actual conversation back up once his amusement fades again. “You sound pretty gone on this alpha already which is something I’ve never heard from you before.”
“I’ve never felt anything like this,” Izuku admits. “I know it’s fast and it’s just a scent, I know I could end up despising them in real life. I know that, really I do. But even with all of that being taken into account, I just … I want, I need, to try.”
“I’m happy for you and I hope it works out,” Hitoshi tells him, achingly sincere. “You deserve something good.”
“You’re something good,” Izuku can’t help but say, something small and vulnerable curling through his chest. No matter what, Hitoshi’s friendship and the emotional intimacy they’ve cultivated with each other, will always mean the world to Izuku. Nothing and no one will ever be able to change that.
“And you’re the best there is,” Hitoshi returns just as softly.
For a moment they just sit there together, no words necessary.
“Alright then!” Hitoshi says then, voice sparking down the phone line with surprising energy. “Enough with the sap, you pine tree. You want to make a good and memorable impression right? Let this mystery alpha know you’re taking this seriously. Hopefully get them good and roped in before you hit them with that ‘oh also I’m actually Dekiru, surprise!?’ throat punch, yeah?”
“Ideally,” Izuku agrees.
“Okay then here’s what you do,” Hitoshi says, enough seriousness and focus apparent in his voice that Izuku can’t help the burst of affection he feels. “If this works it’ll really fuck with this alpha’s head in the best kind of way. But this is just the start okay? This thing takes off and we can pull out the big guns later on.”
Izuku immediately perks up and turns all of his attention toward his best friend’s possibly dubious but still cherished advice.
~~~
Later, once everything is in place and packed away, Izuku finds himself once again having a one-sided staring contest with a box.
Only this time it’s one he already knows the contents of.
Finally, Izuku forces himself to pull out his phone and signal for the outgoing mail drone, yet another feature of Hatsume Inc.’s excellent security system.
It only takes a few seconds before the drone, a shiny little snail-shaped thing, shows up from its shielded docking point.
The little thing whisks the box away with a series of musical chimes and a happy little emoticon flashing across its faceplate in Izuku’s direction, always so pleased to be given a task.
Izuku sinks back into his chair with a soul-deep sigh.
It’s officially out of his hands now.
All Izuku can do now is wait and see.
And hope.