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“I’m afraid we have a situation.”
Lemillion speaks to the crowded room full of heroes that Katsuki barely recognises. Jeanist, Todoroki, Edgeshot, Shoji, and a few others Katsuki’s never seen before…
But they all look older.
The image of a scrawny man appears on the projected screen, golden eyes and an ashen-grey skin. “Takeshi Kageyama; villain name, Riftweaver. At fourteen hundred hours, Dynamight, Deku, and a few other heroes cornered the yakuza gang they've been hunting for weeks, fighting in Kodaira,” Lemillion explains. “Unfortunately, Riftweaver finally revealed his quirk, and it appears that he is able to sever the threads of time around an individual and pull their timeline forwards or backwards."
Every damn head in the room turns towards Katsuki, and suddenly he feels very exposed.
"Riftweaver aimed his blast at Deku, but Dynamight pushed himself in Deku's way. Now, it seems that our version of Dynamight has been sent ten years into the past, bringing a 25-year-old Dynamight back into our timeline."
Now Katsuki really wants the ground to open and swallow him whole. Ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks, he folds his arms over his chest and grunts, “Damn D-Lister. What a shitty quirk.”
“Shitty quirk or not, we need to return you to your original time. We don’t know what this sort of swap could do to the very fabric of reality,” Best Jeanist says. He’s aged, and it makes Katsuki feel a little uneasy. Deeper crow lines have settled around his eyes, and he’s given up with the mascara. His sandy blond hair has sprinklings of grey settling in, which Katsuki can only assume is from the decades of stress that Katsuki has caused the poor fucker. He’s also retired the hideous BJ belt buckle (read: mouth gag), thank fuck.
Todoroki nods, and he’s who makes Katsuki feel the uneasiest. His jawline is looking too much like his damn father’s, a fact that would probably send Todoroki into a coma. “We have the man in custody, so we just need to find out how his quirk works.”
Leaning back in his seat, Katsuki shrugs. “Just smack him around a bit until he sends me back!”
“No, Bakugou.”
“Was he always this… violent?” Shoji whispers to Edgeshot, but does a shitty job of it since Katsuki fucking hears it.
“All those mouths and you still never learned to shut any of them, fat-ass.”
“Anyway.” Lemillion clears his throat and looks around the room, making sure that attention is focused on him before continuing. “He is in custody, and we’ll be conducting a thorough interrogation to ensure that Dynamight is returned safely back to his own timeline. In the meantime…”
The doors to the meeting room swing open and a familiar mop of green curls barges in—sweaty, out of breath, and downright gorgeous.
“Sorry, I’m late, guys!” Izuku leans one hand against the wall as he catches his breath, hunched over, cheeks blushed with a hint of red.
And then, Izuku’s eyes lock on with Katsuki’s.
Katsuki’s about to ask Edgeshot for more CPR because he’s sure his heart just skipped a beat.
“Glad you’re here, Deku!” Lemillion beams at him. “Dynamight, you’ll be staying with Deku until we can figure out how to get you home.”
Oh fuck.
The meeting continues for two more hours, boring Katsuki to death with unnecessary procedures that he doesn’t need to know about.
Not that Katsuki was paying attention. His eyes were only locked on Izuku the entire damn time. Thirty-five year old Izuku is a goddamn dreamboat. He’s still jacked as fuck, but he’s grown into those round cheeks and has a smile even more beautiful than Katsuki could’ve imagined.
Katsuki is suffering.
When Katsuki’s sitting in the passenger seat of Izuku’s car, he finally speaks to him properly. “So… Where are you taking me?”
“To my house.” The car switches on with a low rumble, which has Katsuki questioning why electric vehicles still haven’t taken off ten years later. Izuku pulls out into traffic and pays Katsuki a small glance. “It’ll be the safest place for you. We don’t want the press—or any villains—to find out about this.”
Katsuki hums in agreement, glancing out at the twinkling street lights.
House. Izuku’s doing well, then. No tiny, crappy apartment.
Is he off the teacher’s salary?
Before Katsuki can give himself permission to get excited, he shakes that thought out of his head. Izuku rejected him. Izuku was offered Katsuki’s heart, his whole life, on a damn plate and Katsuki’s heart was torn to damn smithereens. And the worst part? Katsuki’s not sure how he missed the signs. He’s not sure how he misinterpreted it all so badly that Izuku did not, ever, want to be hero partners with Katsuki.
He isn’t off the teacher's salary. Because he’d have become a teacher over being a hero anyway, apparently.
Katsuki’s heart will hurt if he thinks about this for too long.
The car drive is silent and awkward and he’s not sure if asking questions about the future will break some kind of science law. Like how if he stepped on a butterfly now, he’ll be responsible for killing someone in the past, or whatever that damn book said.
He steals a glance at Izuku, and Katsuki’s chest squeezes. It’s still him… It’s still the man Katsuki fell in love with. But now he’s got a few more scars, a few less freckles, and—
What.
What?
Katsuki’s eyes trail down to the steering wheel. Both hands, ten and two, gripping it tightly.
And a gold sparkle on Izuku’s left hand catches his eye.
A ring. On Izuku’s ring finger. A fucking wedding ring.
Katsuki is going to vomit. No, he can’t vomit in Izuku’s car, don’t be ridiculous. He takes in a slow, deep breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth, just like his psychologist told him. The vice grip around his chest is tightening, Katsuki can barely breathe, he’s going to combust and die and everything is wrong and—
“Kacchan?”
The car’s stopped.
Katsuki studies his surroundings, and they’re in a neighbourhood he doesn’t recognise. Izuku is looking at him with the tenderest of looks and Katsuki is unwell.
“Sorry if Kacchan is, er, weird. I just don’t know what to call you.” He laughs awkwardly. “We’re home. Let me show you in.”
Oh. Right. Katsuki hauls himself out of the passenger seat and closes the car door behind him, making his way up the path towards the front door.
It’s a quaint little house. Modest. A few varieties of plants littered around the front garden, lit up by some lanterns around the yard. If it weren’t for the ring on his finger, Katsuki would be assuming Izuku is breaking them into some poor cunt’s house, because this is way out of a single teacher’s price range.
But he’s probably halved the deposit with his wife. Uraraka is a successful pro hero. She’ll be able to afford a nice house.
When Izuku unlocks the door and leads them inside, Katsuki can’t believe his eyes. A striking blend of modern luxury and traditional aesthetic, the living room and kitchen is open-plan. His gaze is first drawn to the kitchen; granite countertops, extremely luxurious cookware sitting atop the stove, and the most extensive spice rack anyone’s ever seen just above the counters. And the living room in front of him looks like it’s been plucked straight out of a magazine. Tatami mats line the floor, with a shoji screen dividing what must be Izuku’s office space with the rest of the living room. The walls are decorated with cheesy hero memorabilia.
It’s… it’s perfect.
It’s Katsuki’s dream house. It’s almost exactly how he’d picture the layout of the house he’s gonna buy when he’s finally got the money.
Tears prick at the corner of Katsuki’s eyes, but he blinks them away before they can fall.
His inner trainwreck slams to a halt when Izuku speaks from the kitchen. “Can I get you some tea? Or something else to drink?”
“Uh, no.” Katsuki shakes his head, quickly, willing the burning in his eyes to fucking go away. “Hey, is Jeanist still a pro? I thought that fucker would’ve retired by now, but he was at that briefing.”
“Nah, he did retire, about five years ago.” The clinking of the teapot interrupts Izuku’s explanation. Katsuki sits down on the sofa and watches as Izuku prepares what looks like jasmine tea for himself. “He was just there to support you. I know you, Jeanist, and Edgeshot are close in your current timeline, but that bond only grows stronger with age.”
It does warm Katsuki’s heart a little. Knowing that Best Jeanist was there to support Katsuki, both versions of him, and not because he was obligated to be there as a top 10 pro or something. It’s likely the case with Edgeshot, too.
“Is it breaking some kinda time travel rule to ask about my own future here?” He laughs, but it’s bitter and forced.
Izuku smiles to himself as he pours the tea into a green yunomi, and sits down on the sofa opposite Katsuki. “No, but… You will remember everything in your time here; this isn’t like those movies where you forget all of this. So, I can’t spoil significant events for you. No preventing villain attacks or trying to stop anyone’s death.”
Panic rises in Katsuki’s chest. “Wait, who fucking dies in the future?!”
“Ah—No one! I swear!” A bead of nervous sweat forms on Izuku’s brow, and takes a noisy sip of tea. “I need to be careful what I tell you, but it’s probably fine to say that you’d be close to Jeanist and Edgeshot. And Class A; you’ll always be close to them, that’s obvious.”
Is it? Katsuki raises a brow and takes in a sharp intake of breath. I’m not close to you, and that’s all that matters to me.
This is no time to trauma dump on a future Izuku. First off, Katsuki has no idea what his relationship with Izuku is even like when they’re ten years older and Izuku’s married to Round Face—it’s not exactly a walk in the park now, so he can’t imagine it improving that much. And second, Izuku must already be well aware of where Katsuki is in his current timeline—he knows how shitty Katsuki must be feeling.
Well. That depends if Izuku, in any timeline, is able to read Katsuki like a book anymore.
He didn’t understand that Katsuki asked him to join his agency. He didn’t understand his message about how if everyone’s special, then no one is. He didn’t even fucking understand Katsuki’s bedside confession in the hospital eight fucking years ago. For the rest of our lives. That was a fucking vow, one that Katsuki would die for.
And Izuku saw right through it.
“What about All Might?” Katsuki whispers, almost afraid to ask. Afraid of what the answer might be. “Haven’t seen much of him since we gave you the suit. Am I still close to him?”
Izuku presses his lips together. He stares at Katsuki, his eyes so… so green. They’re still the same shade, Katsuki knew that they would never change, but it’s still unnerving to see those eyes he’s oh-so familiar with gazing at him with his utmost attention. “You and I visit him once a week at his nursing home. He’s old, and weak, but he’s not changed a bit.”
The image of an elderly All Might is something that Katsuki is struggling to stomach. His skinny form is already so frail, and now the poor sod is probably seventy pounds soaking wet. Gran Turino 2.0 or some shit. Half the height and twice a skinny as the current version of All Might that Katsuki knows.
“Is he…” Katsuki swallows. “Well?”
Now it’s Izuku’s turn to swallow. He puts the teacup down on the oak coffee table and sighs. “Yeah, for now. You remember how he was missing his stomach?”
Katsuki nods.
“And how he got paralysed from the waist down after the war?”
Katsuki nods again.
“He’s been pretty badly beaten across his life, but he’s a fighter, you know?” A soft smile spreads across Izuku’s face, as though he’s reminiscing. “He needs a lot of help, like with his personal care and stuff. Has ended up in hospital a couple of times with severe dehydration and other elderly people problems. But he’s in the best nursing home in the whole of Japan.” Izuku pauses, taking in a deep breath. “He’s still got that smile. And that smile tells us that he’s okay. And when the day comes that All Might isn’t here anymore, I know the world will be okay. Because you and I have each others’ backs.”
Fuck. Katsuki’s eyes fucking burn again, stinging as tears threaten to push over his lower lashline. He blinks them away again and tries to ignore that he feels as though his heart’s been ripped out and replaced with a void.
Everything is so hollow. He can’t imagine a world without All Might.
Katsuki saved All Might once, that day against All For One. But old age? Yeah, Katsuki ain’t that good of a hero. He doesn’t have an anti-ageing quirk, or a healing quirk, or something that lets him turn people immortal.
But what is life without death? He knows that death is an essential part of life. That death itself gives life its own purpose.
Though, life without All Might sounds pretty fucking grim.
“On second thought, I’ll have some tea if the offer still stands,” Katsuki says weakly, swallowing down the lump clogging his throat.
An older, more mature Izuku can likely see through Katsuki’s facade—he figures, anyway. This hypothesis is somewhat supported when Izuku stands up with the tenderest of smiles, gazing at Katsuki like the damn sun is sitting on his sofa, and he says, “Yeah, of course. One sugar?”
Katsuki blinks. “Yeah… How did you know?”
“I know everything about Kacchan.” Izuku beams, chest puffed out with pride.
His heart swells.
When Izuku turns towards the kitchen, Katsuki watches the scenery outside of the living room window. Izuku’s got a large back garden as well as a beautiful front yard, and the suburbs are peaceful—only the sound of birds chirping and the kettle boiling fills the awkward silence.
Izuku returns a few minutes later with the hot jasmine tea, the scent immediately soothing Katsuki’s nerves. “Thanks,” he grunts, and cups the delicate yunomi with both hands.
Might as well bite the bullet.
He takes a noisy sip of tea and then says, “Nice ring, by the way.”
Cat’s out the bag.
Izuku splutters on his own tea. He shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, looking down at the cup in his hands. “Thanks,” Izuku says. “I considered taking it off before you noticed, but… it didn’t feel right.”
It might’ve spared Katsuki some heartache if he took the damn thing off. Katsuki scoffs. “How long?”
“Uh, married three years in May.”
Took Izuku a while to pop the question to Uraraka, then. Wonder why. “Mhm.”
“Happiest day of my life, actually.” There’s a sniffle—Izuku’s tearing up, with happiness by the looks of it. It’s almost ironic that, while Izuku feels giddier and giddier at the memory, Katsuki just wants to crawl into a hole and die. “I don’t think I’ve cried so much, like, ever.”
Katsuki cannot hear this. “I bet.” A forced smile makes itself at home on Katsuki’s lips, wetting them with his tongue.
"It was... it was perfect. I think about that day all the time. The decorations, the vows, the way the sunlight hit just right during the ceremony—it was like something out of a dream." His voice is heavy with emotion as he says it, stupid lovesick grin all over his face and it makes Katsuki fall in love with him even more, no matter how much it hurts.
"Great."
"You know," Izuku sighs, his fingers absently brushing over the gold band on his ring finger. "I still can't believe it. I'm the luckiest man alive. I married the most amazing person in the world, my best friend..."
Katsuki feels the nausea return.
"Your speech made me cry ugly tears, too. But that's okay." He laughs, and has another sip of tea. "You might think you don't have a way with words, but there wasn't a dry eye in that room."
Katsuki's grip on the yunomi tightens, but he forces that smile to stay where it is. "Yeah, sounds like a real fairy tale."
The strain in Katsuki's voice goes unnoticed. "It really was," Izuku says, beaming. It makes something hot and ugly twist in Katsuki’s stomach. "Oh, the cake! I don't think I've ever heard you audibly moan at food that wasn't made by you. The flavour combination was honestly incredible. Matcha and strawberry... God, I'm salivating just remembering it."
Every word is a new punch to the gut, but Katsuki keeps his face neutral and drinks the sweet tea despite the pool of sickness swarming in his stomach. He hopes that Izuku can’t see through the neutrality, seeing that inside Katsuki is falling apart.
“I just…” Another sigh, and then Izuku smiles so brightly at Katsuki. “I never thought I’d get a happy ending. And now I couldn’t be happier.”
Katsuki doesn’t know when the yunomi cracked and crumbled apart in his hands, leaving the hot tea to settle in his palms. He’s thankful for the near-fireproof skin else he’d have scaled himself. With blurry vision, he abruptly stands up and takes what’s left of the cup over to the trash, emptying it and praying don’t follow me don’t follow me don’t follow me in his head.
The hot jasmine tea on his hands is sticky already. There’s a little bit of blood, weeping from tiny cuts on his palms.
I must’ve cracked the cup with some fucking force.
In the kitchen, he knocks the cold water tap with his wrist and runs his aching, throbbing hands under the stream. Katsuki inhales shakily, trying to settle the turbulence in his stomach, but it only comes out as a pained gasp.
“Kacchan?” Izuku asks from over by the sofa, damn open plan living room! “Are you alright?”
“Peachy,” Katsuki manages, though the word sounds unconvincing. His voice trembles. “Sorry, about your… uh…”
Izuku is by his side at light speed, which nearly makes Katsuki jump.
(Read: absolutely makes Katsuki jump, but he insists he’s got the reflexes of a ninja and cannot be spooked or snuck up on, ever).
“Does it hurt?” Green eyes are filled with concern, and Katsuki feels as though he’s drowning, every fact about Izuku’s new married life clinging to his chest like a wet cloak, heavy and suffocating.
“No, my palms are pretty tough, you should know I don’t have a lot of feeling there.”
“Wait, that’s not what I meant.” Izuku shakes his head and dares to step closer to Katsuki, right up in his personal space, and Katsuki becomes concerned that Izuku would be able to hear how loud Katsuki’s heart is thrumming in his chest. “You’re crying… Are you hurt?”
Hang on.
When did Katsuki start crying?
Head dipping down, Katsuki leans over the sink to look better at his reflection in the water pooling in the basin. Izuku’s right… tears stain his cheeks, and Katsuki silently curses for letting the tears fall publicly.
“I’m not in pain,” Katsuki says, matter-of-factly. “Must be just… sweat.”
“Sweat coming out of your eyes?”
“Shut up. You don’t know how my quirk works.”
“I know everything about Kacchan. And I know when he’s upset.” Izuku’s large hands cup over Katsuki’s delicate wet ones, and it feels as though his hands are wrapping around Katsuki like an unspoken hug, radiating warmth through the cool wetness. “What is it? Are you worried about being away from your Izuku?”
Your Izuku.
Those words break through the dam Katsuki has held tightly for so long. His chest heaves with the force of emotion he's been trying to lock away, and suddenly, he drops to his knees. The cold ceramic tile hurts on his knees, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the torrent of anguish clawing its way out of him. His hands slip from Izuku's grasp, trembling as they fall lamely to his sides, his body bowing forward.
Izuku immediately follows him to the floor, kneeling close, hands hovering over Katsuki's body helplessly, before cupping his hands once again. "Talk to me! What's wrong?"
But Katsuki can't look at him. Can't meet those wide, green, beautiful eyes, brimming with so much concern. Instead, his head tilts downward, his voice cracking as he forces out the words he's wanted to ask for as long as he can remember.
"Why?" Katsuki rasps. "Why did you choose her?"
And not me goes unsaid.
"Kacchan..."
The question hangs in the air, heavy and raw. Katsuki's fists clench against his thighs, holding his breath to stop the sobs that threaten to wrack through his body. Tears drip down Katsuki's cheeks and splat onto the tile below, and it's as loud as an earthquake.
"What are you talking about?" Izuku whispers with his own tremble. He moves closer, arms wrapping around Katsuki's shaking frame.
Katsuki stiffens for a moment, not wanting to give into the comfort that Izuku gives him. But Bakugou Katsuki has never been able to deny himself Midoriya Izuku. He collapses against Izuku, burying his face in his shoulder. "Uraraka. Your wife."
“My wif—...” Izuku cuts himself off and leans back, holding Katsuki’s shoulders to force eye contact, going silent for a moment. “Wait, Kacchan. In your timeline, what’s the last thing that happened between you and I?”
He doesn’t want to look at Izuku, but now he has no choice. With a sharp inhale, he says, “The izakaya. I drove you there and you turned down my offer to join my agency. Then… then you chased after Uraraka, and I heard from the extras that you two started dating.”
Izuku looks as though he’s seen a ghost, his mouth parted in shock. "Kacchan..." Izuku says softly, swallowing hard. "I—I'm not married to Uraraka."
Katsuki freezes, his breath hitching as his mind tries to process this. Eyes narrowing, he whispers hoarsely, "What the hell are you talking about?"
Izuku's face flushes, and he takes one hand away from Katsuki—the left hand—to rub at the back of his neck nervously. He glances to the side for just a moment before taking a deep breath. "I'm married, yeah. But not to Uraraka." Izuku looks back at Katsuki now, firmly, and says, "I'm married to you, Kacchan."
The room falls silent, except for the faint, uneven breaths coming from Katsuki.
This is some sick joke. Riftweaver didn't send him to the future, he must have some parallel universe quirk, or something like that Shiketsu bitch like reality manipulation, showing Katsuki his true desires.
"No... no, you're fucking with me," Katsuki gasps, shaking his head, even as his face burns with embarrassment and confusion and something dangerously close to hope. "That—that can't be right. You're—you're dating her—”
"In your timeline, I am, but... Ugh, I don't know how much I can say without spoiling," Izuku interrupts gently. "It doesn't last, of course it doesn't. You're my soulmate. It won't happen for a while, but eventually, I have a reality check and figure out what the hell I'm doing with my life."
Katsuki's lips part, but no sound comes out. He just stares at Izuku as though his world has just turned upside down.
And maybe it has.
Izuku twists the wedding ring off his finger and puts it in the palm of Katsuki's hand. "Look at it," Izuku instructs.
Brows knitting into a frown, Katsuki's thumb flicks the ring onto its side, rolling it in his palm until he notices a shiny engraving on the outside of the band. There, in a faint cursive, reads the kanji for Bakugou Katsuki.
"I'm not lying," Izuku reassures him, tone firm but kind. His thumb brushes against Katsuki's cheek, against his scar, and wipes away a stray tear. "I swear it, Kacchan. You're my everything."
Katsuki's breath hitches once again, and his eyes cart away, defences crumbling under the vulnerability he's being forced to present. "You're... married... to me?" he whispers—he needs this clarity.
"Yeah." Nodding, Izuku gives him a wobbly grin. "And it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
He doesn't know what to say—what to feel. It’s a mystery who initiates it, but suddenly, their lips are clashing against each other, wet and uncoordinated and fucking perfect. To Katsuki, it’s his first kiss—to Izuku, it’s his billionth. Every touch lights up the synapses in Katsuki’s body like a live wire. He has never felt more in love.
And when a stray thought of insanity enters Katsuki’s mind, he can’t stop himself from speaking.
“Please fuck me,” Katsuki gasps, desperate, mouthing against Izuku’s neck. “Please. I need you, I need my first to be with you.”
Shaking his head, Izuku tries to pull away. “I—Kacchan, no, you’ll remember this! I can’t mess with the timeline!”
Katsuki's heart thunders in his chest as he stares at Izuku, close enough to see every faint freckle, every new line etched into his expression. This is still the Izuku he's always loved, but more. Older, steadier, filled with a confidence that Katsuki can't wait to reach in his own timeline.
“Exactly,” he tries to shut Izuku up with another kiss. “When I go back to my shitty timeline, I’ll have to suffer through watching you with Round Face, and this will keep me sane until I can be with you.”
He needs to have this moment with Izuku, because he can't wait a few more years. Not like this, not with the uncertainty in their current relationship. Not with Katsuki, who was so close to giving up on Izuku.
It aches in Katsuki's bones when he thinks about how he has to give this up when he returns back to his own timeline—has to give Izuku back to Uraraka. He'll have to watch Izuku smile at her the way Katsuki wishes he would smile at him, and he'll have to pretend that it isn't tearing him apart.
But, for now, just for now, Katsuki can take something with him. A memory. A taste of what's to come, if he's brave enough to wait for Izuku. It's painfully poetic—this bittersweet moment of having the future he's always dreamed of in the palm of his hand, just to know he's got to let it go soon.
Izuku pauses, looking at Katsuki with something unreadable on his face. Slowly, his brows furrow, and then he gasps in realisation. “Wait a minute! You—er, my Kacchan, shit this is confusing—you told me before our first time that you’d already lost your virginity to someone, but never told me who! Was it… was it me? Was this the moment you lost your virginity?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know? This is still my present, not other me’s past!”
“I can’t believe I get to be your first after all,” Izuku moans, cupping Katsuki’s jawline and pulling him into another feral kiss. “Let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable. Kitchen floor seems unfair for your first time.”
Taking Katsuki's hand into his own, Izuku leads Katsuki up off the floor and into their bedroom. The king size bed is twice the size of what Katsuki has in his own apartment, but he shouldn't be surprised at the married couple having a huge bed (Katsuki still can't believe they're married).
They lie on the mattress, soft and dipping under their weight, and Izuku tugs him into another dizzying kiss. They kiss again and again and again, Katsuki can't get enough of Izuku's fucking mouth, he wants it everywhere. His hands trail up and down Izuku's form, mouth watering over each bump and divot of stocky muscle, desperate to feel every part of Izuku.
Their clothes come off quickly and eagerly, shredding off every thread of fabric that separated them, yearning for that skin-on-skin. For a moment, the world falls away, leaving only Katsuki and Izuku lost in each other’s mouths. They’re both hard in an instant, wandering hands and quiet gasps stoking the fire between them.
Izuku reaches into the bottom drawer and pulls out a bottle of lube.
(Katsuki sneaks a peek at their toy collection and it is extensive. He thanks the gods that Izuku is just as much of a freak as Katsuki is.)
“How do you want to do this?” Izuku coos, warming up the lube on his fingers.
“Let me ride you,” he pants. “I need to do this.”
Katsuki wanted that to sound sexy, but it comes out a little too bratty. Izuku should’ve been swooning, but instead he’s giggling so fucking sweetly and nodding. “Okay, baby. You can have your way with me. Are you ready?” Finger pressed against the rim of Katsuki’s asshole, Izuku bats his eyelashes.
Katsuki nods, and Izuku carefully pushes his index finger inside, enticing a startled gasp, and Katsuki sees stars. Fireworks dance behind his eyelids as Izuku effortlessly finds that sweet spot that has Katsuki squirming, limbs going limp.
A second and a third are added in no time at all. It was uncomfortable at first, but after years of sex, Izuku must be a pro at knowing exactly what Katsuki likes. There’s something oddly sweet about losing his virginity to a version of Izuku who knows Katsuki inside and out, and that when it’s time for his timeline’s Izuku to sleep with the younger Katsuki, he too will know everything about Katsuki.
It’s confusing, and it makes perfect sense. They are soulmates, in every sense of the word.
When Katsuki is fully prepped, Katsuki presses his hands against Izuku's pecs to usher him up against the headboard. Katsuki climbs atop him, slotting his lubed-up dick between his cheeks. Hot pleasure shocks down his nerves. The anticipation is thick in the room, only the sounds of exhausted breaths to be heard.
Katsuki leans forward and sucks at Izuku's neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, as some weird hot competitiveness sears through his chest—the older Katsuki will see this mark.
Hands atop of Izuku's shoulders to ground him, Katsuki sinks down onto Izuku's cock at a torturous pace. He wanted with all his strength to come across as confident and sexy for this older, more mature Izuku, but his inexperience gets the better of him when he pathetically whines with every new inch inside him. This is spectacular. His walls clench around Izuku until he bottoms out with a whimper.
“That’s so good, Kacchan,” Izuku praises, running a hand up and down Katsuki’s sweaty obliques. “You took me so well. Look at you, you’re so beautiful.”
Katsuki’s cock throbs. Okay, praise is definitely a kink he has, good to know.
And… shit. Izuku looks at Katsuki with so much reverence that it makes his heart ache in his chest. How did Katsuki ever question Izuku’s love for him?
“I love you, Izuku.” Katsuki finally gives himself permission to say those words, those words that haunt his dreams and twist his heart. He can’t help it—not when Izuku is looking at him like this with those big green eyes.
Izuku replies by pulling Katsuki into a passionate kiss, humid breaths mingling together. And then, Izuku whispers softly, “Say it to me when it’s my time to hear it. The me who needs to hear it.”
Katsuki begins to bounce on Izuku's cock, hungrily, greedily, setting a fast rhythm that has Izuku visibly keening. Large hands find purchase on Katsuki's slim waist, and Katsuki leans back, showing off his pecs and waist. He wants to give Izuku the perfect show. His cock slaps obscenely against his abs with every bounce, smearing pre-cum up his six pack.
But then Katsuki’s inexperience really kicks in. It feels like they’ve been fucking for hours, but in reality, it’s barely even been a minute—and Katsuki is fucking exhausted. He’s not aiming Izuku’s cock at his prostate every time, his knees are cracking with every movement, how the hell do people do this for ages?!
Nuzzling his face into the crook of Izuku’s damp neck, Katsuki whines, “Fuck me properly. I can’t get the angle right!”
“Oh, my baby.” Izuku’s sweaty, shaky hand cards through Katsuki’s hair, unsticking a few of the blond spikes from Katsuki’s forehead. “Of course. It takes time to find the right spot from that position, I promise. Let me give you what you need.”
As Izuku’s hands take a tighter grip on Katsuki’s waist, nearly spanning the entire width of them, Izuku thrusts up into him with a force that Katsuki could not even imagine was possible.
Katsuki hovers over Izuku’s pelvis, not even really riding him anymore, as he’s fucked into. Izuku’s cock spears Katsuki open, in and out at a relentless pace. “Izuku. Izuku. Izuku. Izuku, Izuku.” He repeats pathetically, arms caging Izuku in, caught in the humidity around them.
Their bodies are woven together so intimately that Katsuki’s cock brushes between their stomachs with every thrust. They move together, and Katsuki feels the desperate need in his gut tightening, balls taut, warmth coiling in his lower back.
“Izuku, I’m gonna cum,” Katsuki gasps, holding his gaze on Izuku, losing himself in those jade eyes. “Cum inside me, I need to feel you.”
“Anything you want, Kacchan.” Grabbing onto Katsuki tighter, Izuku increases his irregular rhythm for a few seconds more, filling Katsuki with a sudden warmth that coaxes Katsuki’s orgasm out, too.
Pleasure rips through Katsuki’s body as he spills over their stomachs. He rides through his orgasm to the best of his ability, milking Izuku’s cock for everything it’s got.
When Katsuki feels Izuku soften inside him, he plops himself unceremoniously into Izuku’s arms. Izuku pants beneath him, enveloping Katsuki into a tight embrace, as their heart rates begin to slow.
“I don’t want this moment to end,” Katsuki admits after a long silence.
“You can’t preserve a perfect moment; that’s why they call it a moment.” Izuku presses his lips to Katsuki’s temple. “You’ll get a lifetime of moments with me, if you promise to be patient.”
“For you?” Pushing himself up on his elbows to look Izuku in the eye, Katsuki sighs lovingly. “I’ll wait for you for the rest of my life.”
They bask in their perfect moment for what feels like only seconds before Izuku’s phone buzzes from his shorts pocket, somewhere on the bedroom floor. Sharing the same I don’t want to get up but I know this could be important glance, the pair heave themselves up off the bed and search amongst the clothes scattered on the floor until Izuku retrieves his phone.
From: Lemillion
Hey, Deku! Riftweaver says that Dynamight will be sent back to his own timeline automatically after 12 hours. Sorry to be a bother!
“That’s…” Izuku childishly counts on his fingers, tongue out, and it’s the cutest fucking thing ever. “Seven hours. So you’ll wake up in your own timeline.”
Some part of Katsuki’s heart sinks at the news. He knew he couldn’t stay here forever, but dammit… Katsuki was kinda getting used to this. Getting used to being with Izuku like this.
Katsuki hesitates. “I’ll miss you.”
“There’s no need. You’ll have me someday.”
“Yeah, but…”
“I get it.”
Silence settles between them once more, until Izuku turns and grins. “Do you have the energy for round two?”
“Midoriya Izuku, you are unbelievable.”
When Katsuki wakes up, he’s not asleep on Izuku’s chest, soothed by Izuku’s gentle snoring. Bleary eyes examine his surroundings, but a deeper part of him knows where he is. No shitty All Might memorabilia on the walls. No framed photos from their wedding day. No—Katsuki is back in his own apartment, his bed is cold, and the sunlight streaming through the window only makes the emptiness inside him even more glaring.
The world outside is going on as if nothing’s changed. But to Katsuki, it feels like everything has stopped.
His mobile phone on the bedside drawer lights up the darkened room, and with a groan, he rolls over to read the text.
From: Izuku
Hey, Kacchan! Are you still coming to give a guest lecture today? :) See you soon!
As he replays the last 12 hours in his head, the heaviness of his heart eases in his chest.
He has hope. He has a chance. He just has to be patient.
Tell me you love me when it’s my time to hear it.
It’s for Izuku, after all. Katsuki would do anything for Izuku, even if it means grinning and bearing through Izuku love another woman until he finally accepts everything Katsuki has to offer. He’ll wait a lifetime and more for Izuku if he has to.
And, for the first time in a long time, Katsuki smiles.