Archive of Our Own ^beta

It starts out like any normal Tuesday evening. 

It's late; well past the hour that everyone else has already gone to bed, the regular chatter of the dorms lulled into a warm, sleepy quiet. 

Izuku's room is normal, too: peeling posters on the walls, his training uniform laid over the back of his desk chair in preparation for the next day, all of his possessions cast under the fuzzy blue glow of night that seeps through parted curtains. 

And, as is also normal for Midoriya Izuku, he just can't seem to get to sleep.

He tries. He tries really, really hard. Tossing one way, then the other, until eventually, he ends up sprawling all limbs out into a starfish position, laying on his back. 

Counting sheep doesn't work - he's tried that a hundred times - and neither does moderating his breathing into a slow, steady rhythm. 

Nope. No matter what tactic he tries, the images always flash across his mind, the spectres of memory ready to grasp at him with their horrible, terrifying hands.

Dragging him back to all the times he doesn't want to remember. 

Sighing, Izuku stares up at the ceiling, already knowing what he's about to do. 

Because on nights like these, he's found from prior experience that there's only one thing that ever makes him feel better. Only one thing that helps him to forget. 

He knows he shouldn't do it; he knows that it's gross and lewd and probably crosses more boundaries than he's willing to think about, but he just can't seem to help himself.

It's the only way he'll get a wink of sleep before morning. 

Eyes trained on blank white paint, already a little disgusted by himself, Izuku slips his hand into his sleep shorts, relaxing his muscles into the mattress, and inevitably lets his mind drift to thoughts of Kacchan. 

Kacchan during training, muscles straining as he braces an arm beneath one of his gauntlets, aiming a blast toward an imaginary opponent, brows pulled together in fierce concentration…

Izuku slides his hand over the front of his boxers, briefly brushing the growing hardness beneath. 

Kacchan in the gym, his skin sticky with sweat, a drop of it building at his forehead before rolling down to his jaw…

He squeezes gently, breath catching in his throat at the warm flush of pleasure. 

Kacchan shirtless, lips parted, a hand moving between his legs as his fist pumps and twists -

CRACK. POP. SIZZLE.

"Kyaaa!" 

Izuku startles at the sudden noise so hard it feels like his brain almost snorts out through his nose, his vision filled by a shimmer of sparks and cloud of blue smoke. 

He shoots upright, eyes wide, every hair standing on end because what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck, there's a man standing in the middle of his previously very much empty dorm room - a man with a powerful stature and wide, imposing stance. 

A man with pale blonde hair and fire in his eyes. 

"Fuck," the man says, looking around as the smoke begins to dissipate. "It actually fucking worked."

Frozen in bed, one hand still clamped (now protectively) over his dick, Izuku gapes, open-mouthed. "Who - who the hell are you??"

He says it, even though from one single glance, he knows. And the man clearly knows he knows, because he rolls his eyes and responds with more than a touch of sarcasm. 

"Santa Claus," he says, moving to Izuku's desk and trailing a gloved finger over the surface. "Merry fuckin' Christmas."

Still in shock, Izuku's mouth opens and closes uselessly, the power of speech deserting him completely because there's no doubt in his mind that this man is Kacchan. 

But certainly not the Kacchan he knows. 

This Kacchan - wait, no, Izuku can't call him that, it feels too weird - this Katsuki's face is familiar in so many ways, but there's something different about it, too, and it's not just the fact that his jaw is wider and more angular, or that there's a graze of pale stubble on his cheeks. No, this Katsuki is older, Izuku is sure about that. But he also looks softer, somehow, too. 

He still has the permanent line between his brows like Izuku's Kacchan does, carved into the skin from years of perpetual scowling, but it's a little less deep. And his eyes seem brighter. 

Izuku wonders what has happened to this Katsuki to make him seem so… Light. Happy, even. 

"What - what are you doing here?" Izuku asks, because his only current explanation is that he somehow managed to literally masturbate this wet dream of a man into existence. 

Dressed in a baggy pants and vest combo of black and orange that is definitely an upgraded version of Kacchan's current hero costume (super cool, Izuku wants to get a closer look at it even though he's currently experiencing what may or may not be a stress-induced psychotic break), older Katsuki plucks up the photo frame sitting on Izuku's desk and inspects it closely. 

"Now that's a better question," he mutters, staring down at the item contained behind the glass. Izuku's All Might card. The one that matches Kacchan's. The one Izuku had carefully framed after all the… all the bad stuff happened. Without dragging his gaze from it, Katsuki says, "It was meant to be a test."

"A test?"

It feels like Izuku's mouth has been stuffed full of cotton balls. 

"Yeah. Like an experiment. Hatsume made this thing. A device thing. I don't fucking know. It was only meant to send me back a few minutes, but it looks like she got the fuckin' coordinates wrong or something."

Izuku holds his breath, and then lets it out in one long, extended exhale as he garbles, "Are you really suggesting that Hatsume Mei has invented an actual, real life time machine?"

Katsuki shrugs, placing the frame carefully back in its place and throwing Izuku a quick glance. "Yeah, like I said. A device thing. We're gonna use it for intel and shit."

Right. Right.

"Fuck," Katsuki says, scrubbing a hand back and forth over his eyes and then turning to face Izuku properly for the first time. "This is so fucking weird. It's trippy as hell being back here. You look so… small."

Izuku's kind of offended by that. Sure, he's still not exactly the most vertically gifted person in their class, but he's bulked out a lot over the past few years. Grown stronger, both physically and mentally, and yes, okay, this older version of Kacchan is taller and broader than the one he knows, with wide, sprawling shoulders and impressively large biceps that Izuku would love to run his hands over, but - 

"Wait -" Katsuki's face twists into a sneer, and all of a sudden he looks a whole lot like Izuku's Kacchan after all. He takes two strides closer, eyes darting down to where Izuku's hands still lay hidden under the bedclothes. "Were you jerking off?" 

"What?? No!" 

Izuku's eyes widen in panic, voice a high pitched squeak (way to be cool, Izuku, damn it). But before he has the chance to react, Katsuki is reaching out to briskly yank the comforter off the bed, leaving Izuku totally exposed, the tent in his boxers betraying him. 

And Katsuki laughs. Peering down at his boner with a mean glint in his eye. "Knew it, you little perv."

Shame floods through Izuku hot and quick, an old, dried out river springing back into life. His cheeks burn, and tears prickle the corners of his eyes.

His Kacchan hasn't made fun of him like this in ages. Not since before the war.

To be honest, nowadays, his Kacchan doesn't really look at Izuku at all, always averting his gaze before their eyes truly meet. But he hasn't said anything nasty to him either. 

So now, hearing that jeering tone from older Katsuki hurts, but it's also weirdly comforting. A familiar pain; an old friend, in a way. A reminder of the Kacchan from before. 

In the split second that Izuku is thinking all of this, older Katsuki's face changes right in front of him. The smile drops, replaced by a frown, and Izuku thinks he notices a hint of… concern in his eyes. 

"Hey," he says, reaching out as if he's about to touch Izuku's face, hand dropping just shy of making contact and pulling the comforter back into place instead. "I was only kidding. I'm sorry, I know this must be fucking weird for you. I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I… I just forgot what it was like for you when we were younger. How bad it was."

"Oh." Izuku blinks up at him, taking the opportunity to swipe away his tears when Katsuki glances away. He's still burning with embarrassment, but if Izuku didn't know better, he'd think that Katsuki looks almost upset from the short exchange, and so he feels the immediate need to soothe. To make any jagged edges go away. "It's okay. It's - it's actually not too bad anymore. Things are, um, things are better, actually. Between me and Kacchan - I mean, me and you - I guess."

Shoulders tense, Katsuki makes a noise at the back of his throat, before his eyes return to Izuku's gaze, and his muscles finally go lax again.

"Mm," he grunts, placing hands on his knees and bending to sit at the foot of Izuku's bed with a world-weary sigh. Careful not to get too close. "He hasn't told you yet then, I guess?" 

Izuku furrows his brow. "Told me what?"

A look shadows Katsuki's face. An expression Izuku doesn't recognise. Which is strange because he's studied Kacchan's face a million times before, noted the way his lip twitches when he thinks something is funny but refuses to laugh, the way his eyes flick to the side when he's nervous. But this look is unfamiliar. Undocumented. 

It deserves a whole dedicated page in Izuku's notebook of its own. 

"I think I should leave it down to him to explain."

There's a pause, a long moment of tension in the air during which Izuku wonders just what exactly Katsuki could be talking about. What could Kacchan possibly need to say to him that he hasn't said already? 

A few minutes go by. Then, Katsuki looks up at him. This time with a look Izuku knows well: the flash of conflict flickering through his eyes. 

"You're a virgin, right?" he asks, and Izuku is so startled he splutters and descends into an explosive coughing fit. 

"W-what?" 

"It's always bothered me," Katsuki mutters, looking down at his hands, spread palm up on his lap. Calloused and strong. "It's always driven me crazy that he'd never tell me who he lost his virginity to."

"What do you - who are you talking about?" 

Izuku knows he's still totally bright red, and now he's totally lost, too.

Katsuki closes his fist, fingers slowly curling in on themselves, and after what feels like an age, he looks up at Izuku again from beneath the thatch of golden hair falling over his eyes. 

"You," he says. "You. From the future."

What? Izuku's heart kicks into gear, thrumming hard and frantic in his chest. What on Earth is Katsuki talking about - why would the two of them be talking about Izuku's sex life at all?? And why, even more puzzlingly, would Katsuki say it bothered him that Izuku wouldn't tell him who he lost his virginity to? 

"Maybe it's none of your business!" Izuku blurts, then slaps a hand over his mouth because wow, that was kinda brazen. 

The outburst seems to cut the tension somehow, snapping the tautness in the room, and Katsuki's lips tug into a smile. 

"Oh," he murmurs, voice gone dark and heavy and laden with something thick that stirs a sensation of interest between Izuku's legs again. "I think you'll find that it's very much my business."

Izuku swallows hard, not knowing what the hell he should say in response to that, because what does it even mean? His dick sure as hell twitches though, as if it's got something of its own to contribute to the conversation. 

"You don't need to hide it from me if you're horny," Katsuki says, eyes wandering slowly over Izuku's form. "Look. I know I just turned up outta nowhere. And I know that me an' you have all sorts of shit to talk about as far as you're concerned, but I…" He slips his tongue across his bottom lip, gaze lingering at the place where Izuku's lap is covered by the bedclothes. "I could show you some things I think you'd like. If you want me to."

Skin shivering into goosebumps, Izuku stares back at him. At this miracle that has just landed in the middle of his bedroom. 

When he speaks, his voice comes out small, slightly shaky. 

"Things like what?" he whispers. 

The bedsprings creak heavily as Katsuki shifts his weight, scooting closer to Izuku's end of the bed. 

"I think you know," he says, and his eyes seem darker than before. Glazed and glossy, pupils wide and black, and it seems like he's about to lean in even closer when he scrunches his eyes shut and pauses. "Only if you want to. Otherwise we can just… I dunno, we can just fucking talk or something. I'll show you my gear, all the upgrades and shit. Let you get real nerdy over it."

And oh wow, Izuku wants that, he wants to ask Katsuki the thousand and one questions that are buffeting for attention in his mind (Did either of us reach number one? What agencies do we work for? Do we work together? How is everyone else in the class doing? Have I learned any more cool moves? What's the future like? WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE WE'VE HAD SEX BEFORE??), he wants to stay up talking until the first streaks of dawn reach them through the window. 

But he also wants the other thing, too, the thing that he's almost certain Katsuki is suggesting. Because hoo boy, he's not sure why or how or under what circumstances, but it really seems like Katsuki's alluding to the idea that he and Izuku could do stuff, and that's an opportunity he just can't pass up. 

Not when it's something he might never get to do again. 

"I want to," Izuku insists, already slightly breathless. "I really, really want to."

Edging even closer, Katsuki's gaze flits to Izuku's mouth, the heat of his body palpable even though they're not touching. 

"You ever been kissed before?" he asks. 

Izuku shakes his head. "No."

"Fuck," Katsuki groans like Izuku's just physically hurt him, like all the air has left his lungs, and it's only when Izuku catches the look of hunger in his eye that he realises it's lust. "Okay, shit. Fuck. Shit. Close your eyes."

Izuku does as he's told. 

In the darkness, he feels Katsuki move closer. Hears him take off his gloves. Feels that hulking figure pressing in, two large fingers resting beneath his chin and tilting it gently upward. 

And then he feels a warm mouth against his own. Dominant. Assertive. Lips moving with practised ease, starting slow and soft and then parting to allow the wet slide of tongue, big, strong hands moving to cup Izuku's face, painting the inside of his mouth with smooth, deliberate strokes. 

And it tastes like… like being taken care of. Like winning.

Izuku never wants it to end. 

He slides trembling hands around Katsuki's neck, trying to commit the sensation to memory, taking in every little detail so he'll never ever forget. He can't forget. 

He never wants to forget.

But then Katsuki is pulling away from him and their lips are parting and Izuku feels bereft at the lack of contact, no no no, come back. 

He lunges forward, eyes still closed, and smashes their mouths together again, darting his own tongue into Katsuki's mouth with increasingly frenzied licks, wanting it to last forever, for them to be like this forever. 

But then he's being pushed back by the shoulders, and Katsuki is… he's snorting. Snickering! 

"Slow down, nerd," he says, raising an eyebrow, and Izuku wants to cry.

In fact, tears start to well up quickly, a fat droplet spilling over and dribbling hot down his cheek. 

One flows, followed by another, and Katsuki's laughter cuts out.

"Hey -" He takes Izuku's face between his palms again, peering between his eyes with a look of worry. "What's up, d'you wanna stop, or -" 

"No!" Izuku splutters, another wave of tears building and then breaking afresh. "No, no, no, please, I'm sorry I'm so bad at this, I just - I can't believe this is really happening, but I don't want to stop, I never want to stop."

Fingers slipping down the sides of Izuku's throat, Katsuki leans forward to bump their foreheads together. 

"Okay, we don't have to stop," he says quietly. More quietly than Izuku thinks he's ever heard Bakugou Katsuki speak.

He pauses there for a few seconds, searing red eyes staring intently into Izuku's bleary ones. 

And then he kisses Izuku again, through the tears and the sniffles, tilting their heads together and pulling Izuku into him until he feels like he might melt with happiness.

They kiss until Izuku's lips feel sore - swollen with spit and desire - his whole body tingling right down to the tips of his fingers, until eventually, Katsuki pulls away and looks him dead in the eyes. 

"I dunno how long I got here until they figure out a way to get me home," he says, brushing the pad of his thumb back and forth across Izuku's lower lip. "But there's some other stuff I wanna show you while we still got time."

Izuku draws his legs up, limbs stiff from sitting in one position too long, and hooks his chin over his knees. 

"Things other than kissing?" he asks. 

Katsuki snorts and reaches out to flick him soundly on the forehead. 

"Yeah, idiot," he says. "Things other than kissing."

With that, he begins to slide off the bed, both knees landing squarely on the floor with a thud. 

How he does it while still managing to look cool and suave and sexy, Izuku will never know. 

"Come sit on the edge of the bed," Katsuki instructs, and Izuku, his mind beginning to hum at a higher frequency, obeys. 

Letting his legs dangle over the edge, he shuffles to the edge of the mattress until his feet lie flat on the floor, sitting primly with his knees together. 

With another one of those devastatingly handsome smirks, Katsuki grips his thighs on either side, prising them apart so he can settle himself between them. 

Izuku wants to hide behind his hands, the position leaving him vulnerable and exposed, his erection unmistakable through the thin fabric of his shorts and boxers. A hot flush climbs up his neck, seeping into his face. 

"Don't be embarrassed," Katsuki says, sounding so authoritative that Izuku almost nods automatically. "I told you that you don't need to hide it from me if you're horny. I wanna see it. Look -" 

He tips his chin down toward his own crotch, and Izuku's mouth pools with saliva and longing when he realises that Katsuki is hard. That he has a visible bulge in his black combat pants. A very large and impressive one. 

"O-oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

Squeezing the meat of Izuku's thighs, Katsuki massages his hands in lazy circles, drifting higher, higher, finally reaching up and pausing at the waistband of his shorts. 

He doesn't say anything. Just cocks an eyebrow, and Izuku understands the silent question. Can I?

Izuku nods quickly, muttering, "Mhm, uh huh, mhm", and before he even has time to process what the actual freaking hell is happening, deft fingers tug and yank his shorts and boxers down in one swift movement. Leaving his dick to spring up to his stomach. 

Katsuki looks at it like it's some kind of delicacy. Hunger sparking in his eyes once more.

Leisurely, he moves forward, asserting himself between Izuku's splayed thighs. 

The movement sends ripples of anticipation right the way down Izuku's spine, his cock throbbing with want as Katsuki reaches for it, torturously slow. 

His hand is so big when it finally wraps all the way around the shaft. 

"Oh God," Izuku pants, "Oh God, oh God, oh God."

And then Katsuki takes him into his mouth. 

It's warm and wet and oh fuck it feels like he's sinking into heaven. Or maybe it's hell, because Izuku's burning up and there's no way whatever it is they're doing right now isn't classified as a sin. 

Either way, Izuku doesn't care, his eyes transfixed on Katsuki's lips, stretched around his cock, taking him so easily he somehow looks smug. 

With one long, delicious slide, he swallows Izuku in full, his tongue running down the underside of his dick in a way that makes Izuku feel he might pass out. 

But then, just as Izuku's eyes are rolling back in his head with pleasure, Katsuki pulls all the way off with a soft pop. 

"Ya know what's stupid?" he says, shaking his head slightly. "I always fucking wondered who got to do this to you before I did. Spent fuckin' years learning everything I could about how to make you feel good, just so I could tell myself that it didn't matter who got there first, because I was always gonna be the best." He licks a long line along the side of Izuku's dick from base to tip, sending him into another wave of head to toe shudders. "And it turns out I was competing with myself all along."

"Y-you mean - we -" 

Izuku doesn't finish the sentence, because Katsuki ducks back down to suck him into his mouth again, and as soon as he does, Izuku's brain blanches out to blissful white. 

The sentiment of what he was about to ask still hangs in the air, though, unsaid over the slew of soft squelching sounds: was Katsuki really saying that in the future, he and Izuku have been having sex for years?

The concept is… unfathomable to Izuku. To the point he vaguely wonders whether it wasn't a time machine that Hatsume had invented, but an even more impressive device that could hop between parallel universes, because there's no way in hell the Kacchan is his reality would ever even consider doing what Katsuki's doing to him right now. And with such fervour too.

He holds Izuku's dick at the base, gripping it firmly, and bobs his head back and forth over and over in an unrelenting rhythm. Every time he starts the motion again, Izuku feels like he might break in two - crack right down the middle - the repeated cascade of pleasure almost as powerful as the man kneeling between his thighs. 

Gasping at the onslaught, Izuku lays a hand atop Katsuki's head, wanting to know whether his hair is soft between his fingertips, or as harsh and spiky as it looks. It's something he's always wondered, but never dared to get close enough to find out. 

(Soft, soft, soft, it's soft, he discovers, and his heart practically sings with joy.)

Without meaning to, his fingers grip harder into the strands when Katsuki starts to pay special attention to the head of his dick, that exceptionally skilled tongue weaving out to toy with the sensitive spot just underneath Izuku's tip and oh God, he almost squeaks at how good it feels. 

His fingers clench again, earning him a long, low groan in response. 

It's appreciative - encouraging - and Izuku keeps his hand where it is in the hope of maybe eliciting it again.

He's making several little involuntary noises of his own - moans and pants and gasps of "Oh my God" and "That feels so good" - and Katsuki seems to lap it all up with every steady stroke.

Izuku's pitch increases as the intensity builds, each wave of pleasure coming closer and closer, slamming through him until he's grasping tightly into golden hair, nails scraping the skin of Katsuki's scalp, and he's so close so close so close that it feels almost like a betrayal when Katsuki pops off again. 

"No! Please!" Izuku cries out, blood crashing in his ears, but Katsuki just exposes a flash of perfect white teeth in a fiendish grin. 

"Not yet, nerd," he says, rocking back on his heels and wiping across reddened lips with his hand. "Like I said - I spent so damn long learning every little thing about you. I'm not gonna let you cum until I've shown you everything."

Standing, he reaches over to the desktop lamp, a pale yellow glow bursting across the room to replace the silvery moonlight. 

"Need you to be able to see properly for the next stuff," Katsuki says, eyes flashing a bright ruby red now that they're fully illuminated. "Get down on your knees for me."

Once again, Izuku follows instruction without question, and it registers that there's something kind of nice about being told what to do. No decision-making required, no pressure to be a leader; there's no burden on his shoulders when he's following Katsuki's orders.

He'll try to remember that. 

Sliding to the floor, he kneels at Katsuki's feet, waiting for his next words. A large hand falls to cradle his cheek, stroking over his freckles, warm and comforting. 

"Fuck, you're so cute," Katsuki murmurs, voice low and deep. "What was I fuckin' thinking back then, wasting all that time? I should go upstairs right now and bash my own skull in to knock some sense into me."

"Please don't," Izuku says, smiling at the fact that this terrifying man just called him cute. 

"Fine." Katsuki's thumb moves to Izuku's lips, gently tracing the outline. "Only 'cause I can't resist that face you're making. Otherwise I'd be crushing skulls instead of teaching you how to suck my dick."

Oh, so that's what's about to happen here.

Snapping the clasp on his utility belt, Katsuki unbuckles and unzips his pants with an ease that suggests he's done exactly this before, and the thought of that cycles light and airy around Izuku's mind. 

Because he's been dreaming about giving Katsuki (well, Kacchan) a blowjob for years, touching himself in the depths of the night and spilling over his sheets at the very idea. And now, not only is he finally going to be able to try it out for the very first time, there's the added benefit that Katsuki is going to teach him how to do it. Show Izuku just how he likes it.

"That okay?" Katsuki checks, even as he's wedging a hand into his boxers and pulling his cock out, and Izuku nods vigorously at the sight of it. 

Yeah. It's big. A match for Katsuki's commanding presence. 

Izuku gulps. 

"You'll like it," Katsuki says, a reassuring hand petting up the side of Izuku's face and smoothing back his hair. "I promise. You beg for this all the damn time back where I'm from. I can barely keep you off me." His lips quirk to one side in a self-satisfied smile. "Now open your mouth."

Izuku does. 

"Wider," Katsuki murmurs, legs spread, and Izuku stretches his mouth open as far as his jaw will allow. 

"Good." Katsuki breathes heavy and slow above him. "Tongue out."

Izuku extends his tongue over his bottom lip. 

Nudging forward, Katsuki lifts his cock at the base and just… places the head gently on the flat of Izuku's tongue. Allowing it to rest there for a few moments. 

"Fuck."

For the first time since he arrived, Katsuki looks for a split second like he might lose control. 

Eyes wild, brow furrowed, he rocks almost imperceptibly forward on the balls of his feet, rubbing himself gently against Izuku's obedient tongue. Then, with a groan that sounds like he's falling apart at the seams, he begins to carefully feed his dick into Izuku's mouth. 

"Start with just the tip," he says, and Izuku almost nods, but then remembers himself and focuses on the task at hand. 

He wraps his lips around the crown of Katsuki's cock, flushed pink with arousal, and sucks on it as eagerly as he can. 

Looming over him, Katsuki's head tilts back, tendons straining, a vein thrumming a steady beat just beneath the surface.

Unleashing another of those rumbling, thunderous groans that shakes Izuku down to the core, he edges forward, easing another inch of himself into Izuku's mouth.

"Hey," he says, free hand coming to grip Izuku beneath the chin and inclining it upward. "Look at me when you do this. Don't look away."

Izuku makes a muffled "Mmmph" sound, meeting Katsuki's eye and burning beneath the intensity of his gaze. He looks so beautiful - so strong and formidable - towering over Izuku like this. 

But even with Katsuki in full control, it feels overwhelmingly safe somehow, the hint of a bond built on trust and mutual respect humming between them - a bond that doesn't exist between him and Kacchan. 

Not yet, at least. 

God, Izuku wants to make Katsuki feel as good as he possibly can. 

Without breaking eye contact, he inches forward, taking more of Katsuki's length, the taste of musk and masculinity a welcome flavour on his tongue, and as he gets more used to it, he decides to be bold. 

Attempting to mimic Katsuki's movements from earlier in the night, Izuku sinks as far down Katsuki's cock as he can, forcing more into his throat until it's too much and he gags, pulling away, coughing and spluttering.

"Easy," Katsuki says above him. "Take it slow. You don't need to take it all right away."

But Izuku wants to, and the insinuation that he can't just makes him want it even more. 

He's broken and shattered bones in the pursuit of his aspirations, defeated every barrier and challenge ever set in his path, he's not going to let a little choking stand in his way. 

Determined, he opens his mouth again, fixing Katsuki with a look that says " Watch me."

This time, he focuses on relaxing his jaw, giving way to the intrusion instead of fighting against it, slowly and cautiously swallowing Katsuki down.

"Shit," comes the breathless response, followed by a throaty chuckle of disbelief. "Fuck, I shoulda known you'd be a stubborn little bastard."

His words are crude as ever, but the hand tangled in Izuku's hair is tender, stroking sweat-damp curls away from his brow, gently cupping the back of his head. Katsuki's eyes have a softness to them, too, pupils widening to pools of black as Izuku sloppily sucks and licks. 

"That's good. Just how I like it. Goddamn, Izuku."

Moaning at the sound of his name murmured from those usually brutal lips, Izuku increases his pace. 

Between his own legs he's so hard, shorts still around his ankles, desperate cock bobbing against his stomach, smearing a trail of stickiness against the skin. 

The carpet is rough on his bare knees, but he barely feels it, all thoughts focused on his goal, his purpose, and he moans again when strong fingers lace through his hair in a possessive grip.

He wants so badly for them to belong to each other. 

"Ah - fuck - hang on, I'm gonna try something," Katsuki pants between huffs of breath, stilling Izuku by hands to the shoulders. A look of sincerity crosses his face, seemingly making a mental assessment before he continues. "If it's too much, we can stop, but you… sometimes you like it if I'm rough with you."

Yes, Izuku thinks, not knowing how much he'd want that until Katsuki says the words. Be rough with me. I'm yours.

"Oi." Katsuki waggles Izuku's head from side to side a little. "Tell me, okay? If it's too much?" 

"Mmmm," Izuku hums, knowing that it won't be. 

The grip in his hair tightens, lips stretching wide as Katsuki jerks his hips forward, dick in hand. Fucking right into Izuku's mouth. 

"Fuuuck."

Izuku expects discomfort, but as soon Katsuki's cock hits the back of his throat, instead he's thrown into a whole uncharted world of sensation - his body entering a state of weightlessness as if he's levitating several inches off the ground. 

His mind blanks out, a slate wiped clean, nothing left except the knowledge that he's full - so full of Katsuki - a pressure that he hadn't even known existed somehow relieved.

But then, after barely three thrusts, there's a curse from above, and Katsuki pulls back. 

"Shit," he says, face tense. "Sorry, bad idea. I - I can't."

A quick surge of panic sweeps Izuku through from head to toe. "W-why not?" 

"You just… fuck, you just look so innocent, I wanna wrap you up in a blanket and sit you down in front of an All Might movie." 

God, that would be nice. The two of them huddled together under a blanket, sharing each other's body heat, Izuku's head resting on Katsuki's shoulder… 

But that's not what he needs right now. 

"Please keep going," he whispers, reaching out to clutch the hem of Katsuki's tank. "You can be rough with me. I want that. I can take it."

Katsuki looks down at him for a long beat, and then scrubs a hand over his eyes. "I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"You're not," Izuku insists, fighting back the tears once more. "I… I like it! It - it makes me feel like -" He pauses, biting down hard on his lip to stop his voice from wavering. "It makes me feel like you want me."

Silence spans for several seconds, Katsuki looking suddenly horrified. 

"Izuku," he says eventually, face stricken. "Look at me right now. Of course I fuckin' want you. I want every tiny little piece of you, I want you so badly it fucking hurts, okay? Like I'm dying inside if you're not right beside me, and I - fuck, this really isn't the time for me to -" 

"It's okay," Izuku whispers, Katsuki's words soothing an old, deep ache. For a time, at least. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything more, I just - I just want to be with you right now. I want to feel like I'm yours."

Katsuki doesn't look convinced, so Izuku carefully tugs at his fingers, lifting to place them back on his head. 

"Let me," he murmurs, and Katsuki's throat bobs in a swallow. "Please."

Katsuki doesn't speak, but he slowly allows Izuku to adjust them back into position, dick still hard between them despite the brief intermission. 

"Let me do this for you," Izuku repeats, opening up his mouth and leaning forward to lick over the slit as sensually as he can. 

With a sharp inhale, Katsuki grits out, "Goddamn it. Okay."

When he eases his cock back inside the waiting wet of Izuku's mouth, it slides easily into place, slotting down his throat. And this time, urged on by Izuku's insistence, Katsuki doesn't hold back. 

Hands holding Izuku steady, he fucks forward, hard and rough, eyes trained on Izuku's fuzzy gaze through every jerky thrust. 

"Fuck, you're so good," he grunts. "You're so good, and you're fucking mine."

The praise floods through Izuku's veins like a drug, leaving him high, addicted, knowing he's going to crave this feeling again and again for the rest of his days. Doomed to replay the memory of this night during every future jerk off session.  

Keeping up a relentless pace, Katsuki releases harsh pants into the air, interspersed with various particularly creative curses. 

Izuku's jaw aches, his lips spit-sore, but it's worth it for those encouraging noises and for the look on Katsuki's face. Lips parted, brows screwed together with pleasure. 

All because of Izuku.

And Izuku can see the moment Katsuki starts getting close, a bomb ticking down second by second until he's almost ready to explode. 

But just before he does, when they're right on the knife edge and Izuku's fairly sure he's about to receive the gift of a lifetime, Katsuki's hand suddenly tightens in Izuku's hair, pulling him back, stilling their movements. 

"Wait," he hisses between his teeth as if the pause takes monumental effort. "Wait. God fucking damn it. We can't finish now. I need to eat you out first."

Half dazed, lips and mouth a mess of spittle and drool, Izuku stares up at him, vision smeared. He blinks. 

"You need to… what?" 

He knows what the words mean. Well, he thinks he does, but surely Katsuki's not suggesting that? 

Without providing further clarification, the man in question is already stepping back, dick flopping outside his pants an angry shade of pink, stooping to unstrap his boots and kicking one halfway across the room without any of his usual attention to tidiness. He seems too impatient for that. 

"Eat. You. Out," he repeats, enunciating each word slowly as if he's giving directions to a confused foreign tourist. "Gonna get you to sit on my face."

Swiftly tugging off the second boot, he flings himself demonstratively down onto the tiny single bed, springs squealing beneath his weight, head of blonde hair spraying out in a crown against Izuku's pillow. 

He pats his cheeks. "C'mon."

But Izuku appears to have turned into an ice sculpture, because he simply gawks and doesn't move. There's - there's no way he can do that. He can't just straddle this fully grown man's face and - and what? Let him tongue at his asshole??

Blowjobs are one thing, but going that far is a whole big something else… 

"Oh my God," Katsuki says from the bed, peering at Izuku's no doubt thoroughly crimson face. "Stop being such a prude. You literally just begged me to stuff my dick halfway down your esophagus, and you're getting embarrassed now?" 

Izuku stares at him in horror for another second, and then clamps both palms over his eyes. This is too much. 

There's a pause, and then he hears the bedsprings creak again. 

"Hey." Katsuki's voice drops down to that softer tone, the one filled with so much genuine care that it makes Izuku's heart beat at triple its usual speed. A warm hand closes over his fingers, gently pulling them away. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to. But I know for sure that it'd feel good."

Izuku cracks a wary eye open. 

Katsuki has moved to sit up on the bed, one hand extending between them and… carefully holding Izuku's fingers. Thumb stroking across the knuckles. 

Izuku looks down at their joined hands. Staring. 

When he finally looks back up, Katsuki shrugs and his mouth tweaks into a grin. "And anyway, I've seen it all before. Believe me, I'm well acquainted with every inch of your body already."

There it is again, that intimate familiarity. It's still so weird, but something about it spurs Izuku on. 

After all, it's not like he doesn't want to sit on Katsuki's face, because oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, that's another daydream that's also been a regular staple in his spank bank for the past year or more. It's just that now it might actually become a reality, and that's pretty nerve wracking. 

It takes a few breaths to summon up the courage to slowly nod, before Izuku gets to his feet, stepping out of his boxers and shorts and shuffling closer to the baffling man on the bed. 

"Mmm," Katsuki hums. "That's right. C'mere."

He slips his hands beneath Izuku's t-shirt, large hands mapping the span of bare skin.

"Take this off," he mutters under his breath, and Izuku lifts his arms for Katsuki to pull the shirt over his head, emerging on the other side: fluffy haired and naked. "Let me look at you."

Izuku feels like a piece of fine art under the lazy exploration of Katsuki's red-eyed gaze. 

Appreciated. Admired.

Katsuki even leans forward and teases his tongue over Izuku's nipple, giving it a quick suck which sends a starburst of tingles through Izuku's body, leaving both the pink bud and his dick standing to attention. 

"How'd you feel?" Katsuki asks. 

And Izuku responds truthfully: "Good."

Looking pleased, Katsuki circles his arms around Izuku's waist and draws him closer. Pulling him onto the bed as Katsuki lays flat again. 

And Izuku decides to put his trust in this older, achingly familiar stranger, allowing himself to be manoeuvred until he's facing the opposite wall, Katsuki guiding Izuku to rise on his knees and lift a leg to straddle mountainous shoulders.

Hovering there, Izuku's eyes flit anxiously across the posters on the walls, the figurines kept painstakingly clean on his shelves, fighting the urge to cross arms over his chest to cover himself.

Heart somewhere up in his throat, overtly conscious that he's more exposed than he's ever been in his life, Izuku pauses, and then, with a deep breath in and a prayer to the universe, slowly and tentatively lowers himself down. And waits. Pulse thundering. 

Big hands palm at his asscheeks, spreading him even wider, a hot breath ghosting over virgin skin when Katsuki huffs, "Cute."

And then he feels a sweep of tongue. 

Soft, wet… probing. Tracing the rim of Izuku's entrance, languidly flicking over it and then lapping idly once, twice. 

Izuku shudders, a moan escaping his lips. 

And if he wasn't seeing stars behind his eyes, already half blind with the intense shivers of pleasure zipping up his spine, he'd think there was a curl of smirking lips against his skin. 

He doesn't have time to consider that, though, because without warning, Katsuki grunts a noise of appreciation and starts to eat him out in earnest. 

Tongue darting quick and proficient - a skill he's so clearly mastered - Katsuki switches between long, smooth strokes and thorough, spearing licks that breach past rings of muscle, conquering the channel beyond. 

Claiming Izuku from the inside out. 

Taking deep, heaving breaths of humid, sex-drenched air, Izuku pants and gasps, folding at the waist and half toppling forward to clutch at Katsuki's sturdy midriff for purchase. 

He holds on tight, the tongue at his rim suckling and nibbling, rough palms massaging his cheeks; in, out. 

Izuku's dick throbs, begging to be touched, but he's too worried he'll cum pretty immediately if he pays it any attention, and he doesn't want to do that until he's sure that Katsuki's finished with him. Eager to draw this whole experience out for as long as he possibly can. 

So he just bites down on his lip and enjoys the ride, quivering all the way down to where his toes curl tightly atop crumpled bed sheets. 

Katsuki attends to him with methodical precision and periodic groans, not letting up until Izuku's drenched and relaxed and open, seemingly taking his time even though they have no idea how long they've got left. 

And that's when a stab of heartache sears through Izuku's chest, cutting through the arousal, because he remembers that all of this is fleeting, and that Katsuki will have to go. That he'll be pulled back to the future, leaving Izuku behind to navigate the strange not-quite-friends limbo thing he's got going on with the Kacchan in this timeline. 

Izuku can't let that happen without at least asking for the thing he wants most of all. 

"Stop!" he cries out as his pleasure climbs to new, threatening heights, and the incessant licking immediately halts. 

There's a muffled voice from below him. "You okay?" 

Izuku raises himself up, crawling forward enough to twist awkwardly at the waist and look down at Katsuki. His hair mussed up and gorgeous, eyes hazy with desire. 

"I'm fine," Izuku manages to croak. "Better than fine! Amazing! You're just so - wow - and that felt so good and I want to keep going, I really, really do, but it's just…" He swallows. "Before you have to go, I really want you to fuck me."

Katsuki makes a deep, rumbling noise in his throat, eyes darkening like a predator closing in on its prey. "Fuck yeah, okay."

Pushing up on his elbows, he plants hands on either side of Izuku's torso and lifts as if he weighs nothing at all, depositing him onto the mattress with a bounce. 

Izuku's eyes widen as he watches Katsuki stand, muscular arms lifting to tug his tank over his head in one fluid, sexy motion. Revealing the sculpted body beneath.

Wow.

The Kacchan he knows is already pretty big, but Katsuki is something else: golden shoulders sprawling wide, pecs the perfect pillow size for Izuku to rest his head on, his statuesque body narrowing to a vee that ends in chiselled abs and a tight, trim waist. 

And there - shadowing the centre of his chest - is the scar. Delicate skin darker and pinker than the span of tan surrounding it, a mark that is both brutal and beautiful in one.

Izuku's breath hitches at the sight of it. 

Katsuki looks down, following the line of Izuku's gaze, chin dipping to his chest. 

"Yeah," he says, eyes lingering as he begins to shuck off his pants. "Pretty gnarly."

Which is not exactly the word Izuku would have used. 

He hasn't seen the mark in almost a year - not since they left the hospital. Kacchan always somehow manages to make it in and out of the locker rooms before the rest of the class has a chance, and he opts to shower during the earliest hours of the morning before anyone else has woken up. 

Intentionally or not, for months on end he's kept the scar hidden from prying eyes, safe in the confines of his uniform or training gear.

But now, it's just… right there. Unprotected. And Izuku doesn't know what to think about that.

In the soft lamplight, Katsuki takes a step closer to the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of dark orange boxers and eyeing Izuku steadily. 

"You can touch it if you want."

"Oh," Izuku replies, dumbstruck, not altogether sure whether he wants to or not. 

But then Katsuki reaches out a hand, and without thinking, Izuku takes it. 

Larger fingers guide his own forward, placing them gently right over Katsuki's chest. 

Beneath his trembling fingertips, the steady thump of a heartbeat vibrates through the skin, and Izuku feels something tightly wound begin to unravel deep inside of him.

He looks up, seeking permission, and Katsuki nods. 

Izuku spreads his hands, slowly tracing every inch of the knotted scar, exploring it with care.

"It's beautiful," he whispers. 

Katsuki huffs. 

"It's whatever," he responds, but there's a softness in his eye. An unmistakable fondness. "You always say that. Now c'mon, quit staring. I gotta prep you."

Quickly slipping his thumbs beneath the waistband of his boxers, he yanks them off and eases a knee down onto the bed, forcing Izuku to drop his hands and scramble to one side to accommodate Katsuki's bulky body as he flattens his back against the headboard, sitting up.

"Come here," he says. "On my lap."

Izuku pauses for a moment, and then crawls towards him, shuffling until he's got one leg either side of athletic, spread thighs. 

"You got lube?" Katsuki asks, and Izuku shyly nods and points to the bedside table. Katsuki retrieves the half-empty bottle without breaking eye contact, and then instructs in a low voice, "Up on your knees."

Izuku gets into position, kneeling over Katsuki's lap as the much larger man upends the bottle, dumping a healthy glob of lube into his hand. 

Then, with both of their cocks hard and pulsing between them, he reaches around, palming down the seam of Izuku's ass, searching out his target…

One thick finger coaxes Izuku open, his hole still relaxed from Katsuki's earlier ministrations, sliding inside with relative ease and sending Izuku into a cascade of prickling goosebumps. 

"Ahh," he sighs, eyelashes fluttering closed, and he can practically see Katsuki's arrogant grin through his eyelids. 

The slide begins, in and out, Katsuki pausing every so often to rub the pad of his fingertip against a very specific spot inside Izuku until he gasps and shudders, pleasure shimmering through him like a thousand tiny fireworks. 

"Think you can take another?" Katsuki asks, lips pressed to Izuku's collarbone, and Izuku nods repeatedly. 

"Yes, yes, yes."

A second digit slips past his rim, this time accompanied by a momentary sting at the wider stretch, but it's nothing Izuku can't handle. 

"Fuck," Katsuki mutters over the steady schlick, schlick, schlick, "you been practicing or something?" 

The blush that blooms over Izuku's cheeks speaks louder than any words.

"Christ," Katsuki grunts, "he never told me that either. That's so fucking hot." His fingers delve deeper into Izuku's ass, stroking downward. "You better think about me when you do it."

"I do," Izuku whispers, cock throbbing dangerously as Katsuki adds a third. "Only you. Only ever you."

And with that, Katsuki removes his fingers completely, cursing and groaning. 

"Fuck, I need to get inside you."

He wraps his arms around Izuku and pulls him closer, slotting their mouths together for a desperate, greedy kiss. 

"Condoms?" he asks, nosing at Izuku's cheek when they pull apart, but Izuku shakes his head. 

"I don't want them."

That look of conflict storms across Katsuki's face once more, a battle raging behind his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, but Izuku only has to look at him pleadingly, and his resolve appears to crumble faster than a sky rise built on sand. 

"Fine," he relents, rolling his eyes. "Have it your way, you manipulative little bastard. Some things never fuckin' change."

One arm still banded around Izuku's back, Katsuki takes his cock in hand, slicking it up with the remaining lube while simultaneously sliding slightly down the headrest to provide a better angle. 

Once in position, he looks to Izuku earnestly, brows furrowed deep and low. 

"You sure you wanna do this?" 

Giddy with arousal, Izuku brushes a quick peck to Katsuki's parted lips. "I don't think I've ever been more sure about anything."

"Alright." Katsuki nods. "Well you're in control. We go at your pace - as fast or as slow as you want."

He grabs Izuku's hand, moving to wrap the fingers around the base of his dick. Leaving it down to Izuku to make the final move. 

A sudden flurry of butterflies swarms to life in Izuku's stomach, a lump rising in his throat when he looks down at Katsuki's throbbing cock. 

It really is very big. 

Is he actually going to be able to fit the whole thing inside of him? Is that seriously anatomically possible? 

"I know you can do it," Katsuki murmurs, seemingly sensing the nerves. "Trust me."

And Izuku does. Perhaps recklessly, he does. 

He rises up even further, shifting his hips forward, and angles Katsuki's cock toward his waiting hole. 

He gasps when it nudges inside. Slowly, with trepidation, stretching him wider than he's ever dared to stretch himself before. 

As it breaches him, he has to pause to haul down a few quick, startled breaths, barely the tip inside and already desperately overwhelmed. 

"You're doing good," Katsuki soothes, voice warm and deep and gentle in a way that Izuku's never heard it before. Like dripping, golden honey. "So good, baby."

Baby. The word ricochets around Izuku's head, echoing off the inside of his skull over and over again. Baby, baby, baby, Katsuki called him baby. 

Izuku nearly melts into a puddle of goo. 

Spurred on by the surprising term of endearment and by the way that Katsuki's looking at him (like he's his single most prized possession), Izuku manages to sink down further, stopping with every additional inch to get used to the burn. 

Katsuki waits patiently, letting Izuku take his time, arms wrapped around him in a light embrace, and when Izuku finally reaches the base, that deep, gravelly voice murmurs, "Good boy."

And oh crap, Izuku nearly cums on the spot. 

Because the Kacchan he knows would sooner rip out his own tongue than call Izuku a "good boy", but this Katsuki - this Katsuki says it like the words taste good in his mouth. Like he says them all the time.

And that makes tears well up in Izuku's eyes again.

"You can bounce," Katsuki tells him, cupping Izuku's face and stroking across his cheeks. "Fuck, you're so good at it, too. It'll feel so good for me if you do that."

So Izuku starts to bounce. 

It's difficult at first (too much, too full, too stretched, too big), but as he slowly gets more used to the sensation, he manages to pick up a rhythm. Rolling his hips up, then down, rising and falling on Katsuki's dick until his thighs begin to burn. 

And then - holy shit - it starts to feel good.

The crown of Katsuki's dick brushes the full length of Izuku's insides, grazing the spot that sends his vision into a blurry, static fuzz. 

Warm waves of pleasure lap at him, building to a tidal surge that washes every melancholy memory away. Because right now there's nothing else in the world that matters but Izuku and Katsuki; joined at the hips, connected through touch, two halves of a whole that have always previously struggled to meet in the middle. 

Together now. All their edges neatly aligned. 

Arms looped around Katsuki's neck, Izuku buries his face into a muscular shoulder, cheeks streaked and wet. 

"Touch yourself," Katsuki hisses as Izuku rides him, his voice sounding thinner and less certain than before. Almost as if he's overcome with emotion, too. 

And so Izuku snakes a hand down between them, still bobbing up and down, wrapping his fist around his poor, abandoned cock and immediately rocketing right to the edge with only a few cautious strokes.

He must tense up, because Katsuki outright moans then, mouth open, head tipped back. 

"You can say my name," he croaks, sounding as lost to the world as Izuku. "I know you want to."

And he's right, he's been right about everything, has known Izuku better than he knows himself from the moment he turned up here, so Izuku pumps himself harder and finally releases the word that's been dancing on the tip of his tongue all night. 

"Kacchan," he moans, and as soon as it's out in the open, he spills all over the both of them. 

Stripes of hot spend coat Katsuki's perfect abs, sweaty hands dropping to grip tight to Izuku's hips, digging into the flesh as Katsuki drills his hips up, up, up, until he's coming too. 

"Fuuuck, Izuku."

He lunges forward and the two of them kiss through it, each of their orgasms drawn out and lingering, aftershocks rippling through Izuku whenever one of them moves. 

Hearts pounding, skin glistening with sweat, they break apart, sharing the same air for a few moments before Katsuki crushes Izuku against his chest. Wrapping him up in his strong arms. 

Just… holding him. Holding him close.

They stay like that for several long minutes. Each of them panting. 

Secure. Safe. Connected. Waiting to come down from the post-sex high. 

Time drifts, incomprehensible, in the aftermath. 

Brimming with happiness and thoroughly deflowered, Izuku huddles into the wide breadth of chest, breathing in Katsuki's scent - wood smoke aftershave and the hint of something sweet - trying as hard as he can to commit it to memory. 

Who knows when he'll get to smell it again. 

It could be months… years…

How long is he going to have to wait? How much heart-ache is he scheduled to endure before he and Kacchan can somehow - implausibly - make their way to this? 

Izuku simply can't believe it. 

He's about to ask, about to let out the barrage of questions he's been holding back for the past hour or so at last, when Katsuki stirs against him. Muscles stiffening to attention. 

"Shit," he says, softly. "Shit, Izuku, I can hear them. They're starting to pull me back."

Izuku reels away in horror, eyes snapping to Katsuki's face. 

His skin is covered in a sheen of glittering specks of light - perhaps the beginnings of the same kind of sparks that announced his arrival - and he's starting to look almost translucent, like some kind of ghost. 

"No," Izuku whispers, breathless, his voice cracking with anguish. Because it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair. "You only just got here!" 

But even though they're pressed skin to skin, he can feel Katsuki's presence waning. His warmth draining from the room.

Katsuki takes Izuku's face between his palms, eyes soft and sincere. "I'm sorry, nerd."

"No," Izuku repeats, refusing to believe it's over so soon. "You - you can't go, you're naked!" 

"I'll tell 'em my clothes disintegrated on the way here," Katsuki says gently, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. "Make Hatsume think she's invented some kinda time travelling pervert device."

Izuku half laughs, half sobs, weeping freely. 

"I don't want you to go," he stammers out between sniffles. "Please don't go, please stay with me, I… I love -" 

"Shh." Katsuki lays a finger over Izuku's lips before he can finish the sentence. "Don't say it now. Save it for him. He's gonna need it one day."

Pulling Izuku back to his chest, Katsuki's voice starts to sound more distant, echoed, and his touch feels lighter. 

"It gets better," he says, right into Izuku's ear. "I promise. He gets better." 

Izuku clutches Katsuki as tightly as he can. As if he can keep him in place by sheer force of will alone. 

"Thank you," he manages to gasp out, holding on to Katsuki's words. "Thank you for everything."

He can see right through Katsuki now, can see the bed frame and All Might comforter appearing on the other side of his torso, undulating in and out of view as Katsuki's form begins to pulse and blur. 

"Promise me one thing," Katsuki says, and Izuku looks up to find those crimson eyes fixing him intently. "Don't tell him what happened tonight. Don't tell him it was me that you did this stuff with. He'll lose his mind over it, but it'll make him put the work in." He presses a quick, gentle kiss to Izuku's forehead. "It'll make him work hard to be the man you deserve."

Bleary with tears, Izuku nods shakily, hardly believing what he's hearing. 

"I - I promise," he whispers. 

And just like that, without any additional warning, Katsuki blinks out of existence in a cloud of blue smoke. Leaving Izuku alone and totally naked on his bed. 

Stunned. Shell-shocked. Chest aching with heart-break. 

Wondering whether the whole thing could have somehow been a vivid, elaborate dream.

But no, when he looks around his now too-quiet dorm room, his possessions are as they were, with the notable exception of a few new additions strewn in disarray across the floor. 

A pair of thick-soled, heavy boots. A baggy pair of combat pants. A black vest crossed through with a bright orange X. 

Izuku will figure out exactly what to do with the items later, but for now, they're evidence enough that the events of the evening actually, definitely happened. They're evidence of a future that will one day come to pass.

Wiping his tears and swallowing hard, Izuku reaches down to the floor to sweep up the tank, bringing it to his nose and then holding it close to his chest. 

And although his heart is heavy, he manages a shaky smile, lifting his arms and pulling the oversized shirt over his head.

A momento he can continue to treasure. 

Because Katsuki is gone, there's no debating that. But left in his place is a glimmer of hope. 

Epilogue

The lingering heat of summer swaddles Class 3A in a muggy haze, all of them bundled into the common room to gossip and sneak sips of the gross, lukewarm beer Kaminari had managed to smuggle into the dorms beneath Iida's vigilant nose. 

Lights dim, atmosphere bright, most of the class sprawl loose-limbed and surrounded by snack debris on the floor, Izuku included. 

Kacchan sits apart from the group, hunched on one of the couches, frowning into a book; confined to the outskirts enough that he doesn't have to participate in conversation, but present, nonetheless. 

Which is progress, in Izuku's opinion. 

And his mood seems reasonable, too. 

Izuku knows this because he's spent the past two months hyper aware of Kacchan's every facial expression - even more so than usual - studying the tiniest scrunch between his brows, the slightest twitch of his lip. Watching for any tells that might signify the way that he's feeling. 

But tonight, his face is blank. 

The babble and chatter of the class provides a comfortable background buzz, and Izuku is so distracted by the minutiae of Kacchan's face that he doesn't pay much attention to the content of what's being discussed. 

Which means he doesn't notice that the rest of the group are starting up a game until it's much too late. 

Kirishima nudges him and Izuku blinks to find a circle of eyes and expectant faces looking in his direction. 

"Hmm?" he asks. 

"It's your turn!" Uraraka prompts, cheeks pink and pupils wide from the clandestine booze. "We're playing truth or dare!" 

"Oh!" Izuku's own cheeks begin to heat, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. "No, um, it's okay, I won't play."

A collective groan rises from the group. 

"C'mon, Midoriya," Kirishima cries, "play with us!" 

Then Kaminari, in a state of tipsy glee, begins a repetitive chant that the rest of the group quickly pick up: "Play-with-us! Play-with-us! Play-with-us!" 

And Izuku can't help but laugh. 

"Okay, okay!" he says, waving his hands at them, grinning. "I choose… truth."

"So predictable," Uraraka grumbles to no-one in particular, and Ashido leans forward on her elbows. 

"I've got a question!" she says, and her eyes glitter with a sudden look of mischief that makes Izuku's stomach sink. Because nothing good ever comes from that look. 

Tapping a fingernail against her lip, she asks, "Have you ever, like, done stuff with anyone?" 

The circle descends into a series of hushed ooohs, and the warm flush on Izuku's cheeks jumps to a painful scald. 

"No!" he bleats, too quickly, palms going clammy. "I mean, um, no. I haven't. Okay, that's my turn over, let's move on to someone else."

He has to force himself not to look at Kacchan, instead casting his gaze to the floor and studying every fibre of the cheap carpet with exceptional care. 

But rather than moving on, the group dissolves into a flurry of whispers and giggles, and Ashido's interest has clearly been piqued. 

"You've gone all flustered!" she says loudly, her gaze narrowing as she peers at him. "Are you sure you're telling the truth?" 

"N-no! I mean, yes!" Izuku splutters, and he can't help himself, he flicks a glance towards Kacchan, noting that he seems to have gone decidedly stiff. In fact, Izuku can't recall the last time he heard the sound of a page turning. "I mean, uh, yes I'm telling the truth, and no, I haven't… y'know… with anyone."

He feels like his ears are on fire.

Ashido squints at him for a long moment, mouth scrunched to one side in scrutiny. 

"Oh my God!" she squeals eventually. "You're lying!" 

"W- what? No, I!" Izuku shakes his head in a panic. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, dude," Kaminari chimes in, lolling on his back, head tipped upside down in order to look at them. "We're all just curious because Mineta said he heard weird noises coming from your room one night a couple of months back, and we've all just been wondering who you were fooling around with." 

There's a thud from the direction of the couch. Kacchan's book now lying face down on the floor, pages splayed. 

Izuku floods with panic. 

"I wasn't! I didn't! I - I -"

"Jesus fucking Christ!" There's an explosion of curses, a flurry of blonde hair, and a set of stomping feet break dramatically into the middle of the circle. "HE SAID HE DOESN'T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT, YOU NOSEY FUCKS, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU??" 

Kacchan stands, shoulders tensed, with his back to Izuku, but from the stricken looks on the faces of their classmates, he's attempting to incinerate every single one of them with the very worst of his glares. 

"Call yourselves friends?" he demands, enraged. "Fuckin' disgusting, the lot of you. You should all be fucking ashamed of yourselves."

Then, still very clearly irate, he turns on his heel, pointedly not looking at Izuku as he marches from the room with balled fists. 

The rest of the group just watch him go in stunned silence. 

A long pause hangs awkwardly in the air. 

"Sorry, Mido," Kaminari murmurs eventually, followed by a chorus of sheepish apologies. 

Totally sobered up, Izuku smiles weakly at them as he gets to his feet. 

"It's okay," he says, already walking backwards towards the door. "Really, it's okay, but I should probably, um, I guess I should make sure he's, uh…" 

"Yeah," Uraraka nods. "You two should talk."

"Right." 

Running a hand through his hair, Izuku spins, hurrying out of the room in the wake of Kacchan's blow up. 

Following after him, attempting to catch up with him, the same way he always has. 

And so it begins.