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Me, myself and you.

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One would think that after almost three years in the UA hero course, after countless encounters with nearly all (all) types of villains and meddling in the strangest situations, after more than the average amount, even for a pro-hero-soon-to-be, of brushes against death, after meeting and even collaborate with the very best of the heroes the world has to offer, few things could leave Izuku completely dumbfounded anymore.

 Well, that is wrong assumption to make.

 One, because Izuku is an easy impressionable person by nature, finding wonder and awe in a lot of things (like a Golden Retriever, as Ochako likes to point, scratching the curls behind his ears to make the comparison clearer), including now, one foot into the adulthood he always dreamed.

 And second, because, although, sure, the world they all live in has people able to breath, control and even have facial hair made of fire, transform into dragons and summon wild monsters created of shadows from their bellies (just a few examples) and, yeah, in this type of world, the situation presented isn’t that farfetched, right now Izuku feels his brain isn’t prepared to deal nor process what his eyes swear they are seeing.

 It’s almost like having an out-of-body experience. Or a concussion. Did he get a concussion? Maybe he hit his head without realizing and he’s having an extremely vivid and bizarre hallucination. It wouldn’t be a first.

“... but there is no doubt”, is concluding Aizawa when Izuku reconnects with the conversation, ready to put that concussion theory out of commission with zero regards on Izuku’s poor, overwhelmed brain, his fingers interlocked, voice dull but stare alert and a tiny bit surprised above his perpetual purple eyebags. Those dark, deep eyes move between the pair of pairs in front of him, “Recovery Girl has run all the tests and exams that she could thought of with the samples she took from the fourth of you and all of them concluded the same thing: these are Bakugo Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku.”

 The awkward and tense silence that establishes itself in the air of the office for a couple of seconds is heavy, Izuku can feel it clinging onto his already nervous-clammy skin and slipping into his lungs with every shaky breath. Luckily, before it stretches too much, an ugly snort breakes it.

“Told ya. We are not liars.”, the gruff tone has the same annoyed undertone as always, perhaps a little bit tamed, and only the eye roll that accompanies it it’s more subdued than usual.

“Kacchan, you can’t blame them for taking precautions. We are familiarized with this kind situation, but they are not. It’s standard procedure”, says Izuku, a tiny, disapproving frown curled on the corner of his lip when he looks apologetically at Aizawa.

 Only is not Izuku-Izuku who is talking.

 It’s his apparently future self.

 Izuku blinks confusingly for what it seems like the hundredth time in the little more of an hour since Aizawa called him into his office early in the Friday morning, before classes, and he came face to face with the two visitors from the future. He’s pretty sure that his eyes are going to roll off his orbits in any moment, because he can’t, for the life of him, stop gawking with them opened wide as saucers at the figures seated in the sofa across him, so similar to what and who he knows but yet so… eerie different. Eight years can do a lot to a person, after all.

“Stop staring like an idiot”, angry-whispers Kacchan (his Kacchan… he means, the Kacchan of now, of his time, not his-his… oh, boy, his head hurts, is he sure he didn’t knock it?) at his side, who has been also summoned to help with all those tests to prove the identity of their counterparts. His scowl is so deep in his features that Izuku worries that it will leave permanent wrinkles. He turns his body a little in his direction, hand over his mouth to conceal his words, not wanting to attract the attention of the other three adults to them, who are still talking.

“Well, excuse me for freaking out over being in the same room of our future-selves! It’s so weird, okay?”, Izuku’s response is high-pitched, eyes nervously darting between Kacchan and the future pair. They seem calm and collected in their professional hero uniforms, a bit rumpled and with little changes here and there from the current ones, while answering the questions Aizawa throws their way, as if they haven’t been thrown eight years into the past chasing after a villain able to create portals through time. Maybe that attitude is what makes those differences between now-Kacchan and Izuku and future-Kacchan and Izuku more evident and dazzling than any physical change: those men are already pro-heroes, have been for quite a long time, and it shows in their posture, in the way they talk and in the general way they carry themselves. Izuku repress a tremor, half excited, half creeped out.

“You are the weird one”, answers the blonde at his right, and, oh, wow, very mature, Kacchan. Izuku’s eyebrows curl upward, disbelieving.

“Aren’t you a little bit of freaked out, seriously?”

“Of course not”, but he’s lying, Izuku can tell by the way his eye twitches every time he looks at their future versions, and in the subtle jiggling of his left leg. Also, nowadays he reaches only this level of grumpiness when there is something really bothering him.

“It’s okay to be freaked out, Kacchan.”

“Shut the fuck up, I said I’m not!” again, Kacchan angry-whispers like only he could do, and to punctuate his false lack of freaking out (but confirming it nonetheless), gives Izuku’s shoulder a firm push, not strong enough to make him fall off the sofa but enough to make him lose the balance in his seating position and almost top over the armchair, squealing like, well, yeah, only he could do.

 Three pair of eyes look at them, the conversation stopping. Izuku feels himself reddening under their weight, especially the ruby and green ones, and straightens, hands clutching his knees, gaze somewhere in between and cheeks so red Kirishima’s hair would be jealous. Suddenly he feels so much younger than his recently achieved eighteen years old, closer to a naughty kid about to get scolded, caught with his hand in a metaphorically cookie’s jar.

“What”, is what Kacchan curtly replies at the stares, his crossed arms tightening over his chest in displeasure.

“Behave yourself and stop being a petulant brat, brat”, future-Kacchan is the one who, to the utter shock of everyone on the room, reprimands now-Kacchan. The latter only takes a couple of seconds to recover, upper lip curling in an intimidating snarl, pose that is almost immediately copied by his future self.

“Repeat that if you dare, old man!”

“Who are you calling old, ah?”

“Kacchan!” two voices retort at the same time, one a little deep than the other, but with the exact same intonation and admonishing undertone. It’s spooky enough that everyone quiets, uncomfortable, two pair of green eyes widening and other two red narrowing. Izuku gulps, a bead of sweat making his way down his neck into the collar of his shirt.

 This time the silence is shattered by a long, suffering, no, agonizing sigh. Aizawa looks three seconds away of giving up life and crawling back into his sleeping bag to never resurface again. The man is probably wondering what horrific, unforgivable things he did in his past lives to have to deal with his troublesome pair twice over.

“I’m going to talk to Nezu and the rest of the teachers about how to proceed with this unusual situation. You both said that this… visit is temporary, and the man whose quirk did this is under arrest thanks to you, but it’s better to be safe when it concerns to class A, from the future or not. We also have to deal with the press and the public: there are far more witness that we would like that watched two heroes appear from nowhere and take down a villain, two heroes that suspiciously look a lot like two of the top students of the 3A UA class”, the last part is accompanied by a hard glare at the older pair, and it’s almost funny how they slightly shrink under it like they were his students again, “We want to keep this quiet so you probably are going to stay here until the quirk effects revert and take you back”, Aizawa gets up from his chair, shoulders slumped but eyebrows sharp in a frown that now pins the younger version of his regular source of headaches, “You two stay here too until I come back with a safe plan, we will discuss if you are somewhat affected by this development and if you should come back to classes or not”, four heads nod, but the teacher doesn’t seem satisfied because he throws a last warning at the door, scary scowl included, “Don’t kill each other… or yourselves. I swear, if you misbehave you all will regret it. Both pair of you. Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sensei, sir”.


 Aizawa leaves the office, closing the door behind him, and the remaining people on the room sigh in relief.

“Wow, I have forgotten how terrifying sensei can be”, future-Izuku confesses, uneasily laughing while running a scarred hand through his hair. The wild mane of evergreen curls is the same one Izuku tries to tame every morning, only shorter on the back and the sides, making the haircut look more mature and disguising some of that round, smooth features that still linger even when he’s nearer to thirty than twenty. A new, soft pink scar scissors around the left eye, curling around the temple and the top of the cheek, its ragged shape cutting down through the edge of his jaw and neck before disappearing under the collar of the suit.

“Why, is he…?” the clipped tone Kacchan uses makes Izuku register the sentence his doppleganger has said, and he stops ogling the man, feeling his heart stop and sink.

 Before the sadness can fully dig its claws into his chest (because yes, people die, heroes die, and it’s logical progression that some people have passed away in those eight years that separate them, but, still, just thinking about the possibility of his loved ones death’s makes Izuku want to weep), future-Izuku starts frantically shaking his hands in front of him, eyes open big and round (is that how Izuku looks when he’s panicking?).

“Oh, no, no! He’s fine, I mean, alive! Everyone is, we’re so lucky, it’s just that it has been a long time since we’ve seen each other, with work and things, that’s all, I swear!”

 Kacchan relaxes a little, leaning into the couch, obviously pleased with the answer but trying to cover it with his tough-guy attitude, and Izuku would call him a secret softie if he wasn’t trying to calm his own rapid heartbeat.

“And is it safe, you telling us about the future? Wouldn’t it create a paradox, or a butterfly effect, or some other shit like that?”

“It’s safe”, this time future-Kacchan answers, also reclining into the sofa. He stretches an arm (and, man, Kacchan has always has some big biceps because his training and the dynamics of his quirk, but future-Kacchan’s ones are just… just… wow, Izuku feels those muscles could crush his skull between them effortlessly), resting it on the cushioned back, over future-Izuku, who just kind of… leans back?, uhm, “That fucker’s quirk only has a twenty-four window of action, when it stops, we will come back to our timeline and all the memories of everyone who interacted with us will be totally wiped. It’s foolproof and, believe me, we had actual fools proving it.”

“Don’t be mean to our friends, Kacchan”.

“W-what happened?”, asks Izuku after clearing his throat, the question almost forced out him to distract his wandering mind, that has decided to fixate in the pose the other two are in; it looks so relaxed yet the almost one sided hug transpire such a closeness Izuku feels something in his chest buzz. Not for the first time lately, Izuku wonders how Kacchan’s arms would feel not threateningly around him… (Yeah, okay, what, he may have a tiny-mild-big-huge-Mt. Lady-in-her-giant-form-sized crush on his childhood friend, only acknowledged at the end of their first year but probably cultivated for who knows how long; by now it’s almost general knowledge by almost everyone in the class except the asshole his heart has decided to crush after…)

 Future-Izuku’s eyes shine, enthusiastic and eager to share the story, and a large smile appears on his face.

“This man was using his quirk to rob huge amounts of money, and there was, obviously, an open investigation because it wasn’t known how was he stealing all that money without being noticed. Apparently, he was creating small holes that let him travel back shorts lengths of time, and he timed them to when nobody was there to stop him, using them to escape too. He could even create portals to attack and get rid of his enemies for a short amount of time. One day, Pinky, Red Riot and Chargebolt were chasing him when suddenly they found themselves almost five years into the past”.

“Oh, god, those dumbasses no”, Kacchan snorts, an ugly sound that doesn’t cover the way the left corner of his mouth hitches up.

“Those dumbasses yes. If the timeline survived without causing a catastrophic paradox with that fucking trio being involved, it would survive us”.

“Well, thanks to them we were able to make the plan to catch the bad guy”, future-Izuku tries to defend their friends, although the effect is lessened by the little giggles that try to escape his close pressed lips.

 Future-Kacchan rolls his eyes, dismissing, but he is half smirking too, something close to what people could call fondness painting the expression if he wasn’t, well, Kacchan.

“Yeah, because they didn’t have the balls to jump through one of that fucker’s portals when he was escaping.”

“You know that’s not truth. They are all very brave and very good heroes. We stepped in because we just…”, a smile that Izuku has never seen himself make spreads over future-Izuku’s face, all white teeth and sharp edges, almost feral. It’s a smile so confident and intense that something close to butterflies erupt in Izuku’s belly; it reminds him so much of Kacchan’s mid-battle crazy grin, “are scarier than them”.

 Future-Kacchan cackles, stomping the ground once with a heavy boot and moving the hand on the back of the sofa to the nape of future-Izuku’s head (ah!), the same fierce look sparkling around his face when they both lock eyes with each other.

“We are. I think that motherfucker shit himself a little when he saw us coming after him”.

 Izuku can’t help but gape at the scene in front of him (and not only for the casual touches, honestly… he’s not going to feel jealous of himself!, he’s not!). A quick sideways peek shows him that Kacchan is also in awe, although he dissimulates it better, only the surprised curve of his golden eyebrow betraying his surprise and wonder.

 The pair in the other sofa looks so powerful, so sure of themselves and of their abilities, and that power radiates out and around them, shining like bright auras. It’s like looking directly into the flames of a fire. The potential of what they are going to become feels heavy but welcomed, making Izuku feel nervous and elated at the same time. If this is how their futures look like… they are going to be so awesome!

 The illusion dissolves when future-Kacchan roughly ruffles future-Izuku’s hair and then pinches his cheek hard enough to leave a red mark in the freckled skin. He doesn’t seem regretful at all even when future-Izuku punches him in the side in revenge, whining and rubbing his aching cheek.

“So”, Kacchan stretches his legs in front of him, the deep scowl that worried Izuku before loosened; he’s clearly more relaxed, and Izuku notes how his own shoulders have lost a lot of the tension that weighted them down since he entered the office, “what rank am I? I bet I am in the top ten by now”, the confident smirk propels Izuku to ask too, curiosity and excitement making the tips of his fingers tingle.

“I also want to know!”

 Their counterparts share a brief look enough to hold an entire conversation, and then a tiny, secretive grin full of mirth appears in both their faces. Without speaking, future-Kacchan raises four fingers of the hand that isn’t still wrapped over future-Izuku’s shoulders.

“Number four! Wow, that’s so cool, Kacchan’s so amazing!”, Izuku claps his hands together, almost bouncing off the couch with delight. He always knew, without an ounce of doubt, that his childhood friend was meant to great things, always shining like the brightest star of all, a comet destined to burn the rest of them to the ground. Now, knowing the results of that hard work, dedication and passion makes Izuku stupidly happy. The proud smile that, unstoppable, curls upward the corners of the blonde’s lips only fuels that feeling, and, boy, isn’t he the handsomest when he smiles likes that.

“And where are you, Deku? Below me, I don’t have a doubt”, teases Kacchan, playfully flicking his ear before digging his elbow between Izuku’s ribs. Izuku squirms, squealing a bit but returning the challenge, smacking his friend’s arm. He closes his right fist and stares at those wicked red irises with fierce determination shining in his own emerald eyes and a large, confident grin.

“Don’t be so sure, Kacchan, I’m sure I’ll have already surpassed you by then”.

 When future-Izuku answers, is, definitely, something neither of them would have seen coming.

“I’m number four too”, before the youngest pair can process the words, future-Izuku adds with a wide, wide smile, cheeks scrunching with dimples digging on them included, “We’ve been registered as a hero duo for three years, so we share ranks. We are the Wonder Duo.”

 Something clicks inside Izuku, that simple sentence tugging at something that has been, since a long time, almost forever, locked inside the deepest part of him, secure but hidden. A crushing emotion floods his chest, similar to when All Might told him, now a few years ago, that he could be a hero: it’s overwhelming, terrifying in its intensity, but good, oh, so good he knows he gladly let that emotion drown him. He could say that it feels like another dream coming true, but there are no ‘likes’ in that statement. After all, two wishes have been accompanying him since he had use of reason and was just a little child playing saving the world with his best friend: one, become a hero; and two: become a hero with Kacchan at his side.

 Izuku looks at the blond, euphoric yet more than a little anxious of his reaction, because, yes, after all the fights, and hurt, and misunderstandings, and rivalry, and competition, they are now something close to friends, but that doesn’t mean he’d like this new, surprising to-be-development of their relationship.

 Kacchan looks back at him with his gorgeous red eyes a little more open than normal and his jaw slightly slacked. A thousand feelings must be crossing both their faces while he tries to decipher Kacchan’s expression (even if his friend isn’t pleased, even if now he doesn’t like the future that waits for them, nothing can rob him of that overjoyed feeling of knowing what they’re going to become), but only one thought is wriggling between the walls of Izuku’s skull and making his heart beat in staccato, fast, so fast, against the insides of his ribs: we are a duo, we are a duo, we are a duo.

 And when the surprise melts away from Kacchan’s wine eyes, showing clear satisfaction and a tiny bit of softness, Izuku feels himself tear a little bit, happy tears clinging on his bottom eyelids. If they were to fall, he’s sure they would taste like liquid dreams made a reality.

“So partners…”, Kacchan says, nodding once, “I guess the future ain’t bad, nerd”, Izuku’s cheeks hurt for smiling so hard, so big, eyes sparkling bright with unshed tears and heart flying to nine cloud, so he is caught off ward when the grin in Kacchan’s lips transforms into a mischievous smirk. He glances at their future-selves, who are watching them with amusement. Wicked red eyes go forth and back between future-Izuku and Izuku, the gaze so focused that something hot starts to burn under the collar of his uniform, “Although I’m gotta admit…  thought you’d be taller by then, Deku.”

 The indignant “hey!” of future-Izuku is swallowed by the future-Kacchan’s raucous laugh.

“Shut up! You’re an asshole, Kacchan”, Izuku blushes, smacking Kacchan’s arm again with the back of his hand when he just joins his future-self, laughing loudly. In order to preserve his pride and out of politeness, Izuku won’t admit out loud that, well, yeah, he also thought that he would be… a little taller.

“So much for that grown spurt you are waiting for.”

 All boys and girls in their class have already hit that grown spurt, and although Izuku is undeniably taller than when he started high school, he’s being gaining inches slower than the rest of his classmates, and he is still one of the shortest among his peers . And of course, Kacchan likes to tease him and rub the little more of a head he has over him every time the occasion arises. Not everyone can be giants, Kacchan!

“I was a late bloomer, okay?”, future-Izuku is also blushing, a soft pink dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose (and, shit, Ochako is right, he just looks like a strawberry), “And I’m not, stop laughing!, I’m not that short.”

“Oh, no, sure, you’re just fun sized”, apparently some things won’t never change, and Kacchan’s favorite pass time will always be making fun of any Dekus available.

“Don’t listen to them, little-me, look,” future-Izuku gets up, and plants his hands of his hips, puffing his chest out, probably trying to imitate All Might’s famous pose, but reminding Izuku much more of his own mother when she was about to reprimand him for leaving all his notebooks laying on the living room’s floor. It’s perturbing in a new level of creepiness.  

“Ha!, what are you saying?, I can’t hear you from down there”, future-Kacchan raises too in all his glory, and, yep, he’s a true giant now, his wide shoulders and arms (god, those arms) making him look even bigger, even when future-Izuku almost reaches his nose with the top of his curls. The shit-eating grin that decorates the blonde’s face is full of smugness, and it makes future-Izuku frown and pout (although, if he’s being honest with himself, it wakes some weird, crazy butterflies rebel on now-Izuku’s belly, Jesus, Kacchan’s gets even more handsome with time, how it’s that even fair). He ends up marching to the couch where the youngest pair is still seated, that resolve that everyone says Izuku gets when he wants to get something clear in the evergreen irises, and, okay, it’s a little bit frightening.

“Don’t listen to these doofus, I-Izuku, man, that’s weird… Here, get up”, Izuku wobbles into his feet, letting his future-self manhandle him until they are one in front of the other. Izuku can help but stare a little, the proximity making it easy to spot all the differences between the face he sees every morning in the mirror and the one he’ll see in eight years. The freckles, far from mitigated, are even more pronounced in that face (oh, god, why?), a tone darker than his, especially across the cheekbones and the tip of the nose. His eyes are still circular and too big for his face, but the jaw framing the features is strong under the tanned skin, counteracting some of that roundness. At this distance, that scar looks pinker, its start ending so close to the eye that Izuku repress a shiver: less than an inch longer, and the wound would had probably made him lose it, or at least, damage his sight. And sure, he’s the eternal problem child, always breaking this or that, and his own body and soul have already been engraved with so many battle scars, but seeing such a nasty forewarning of what is about to come… well, it’s a little daunting. Fingers on his hair make Izuku stop ogling that rosy jagged line, gaze jumping into future-Izuku’s jade pools of eyes. They are filled with understanding. His future version shares with him a warm smile brimmed with reassurance before speaking with a soft voice, “See?, you are going to grow this much”, the gloveless hand pets the top of Izuku’s head a little, and then, in a straight line, moves until touching his own chin, “Almost a head!”

 Izuku can feel his lips moving, a small upward curve drawing itself on his features.

“Well, this Deku isn’t the best standard to compare to. He’s so fucking small”, the cocky tone Kacchan uses matches perfectly with his pose, sprawled out in the couch, hands on the pants’ pockets and sharp smirk ready to cut. He brings his eyes from Izuku’s shoes until his face, gaze traveling and lingering as if he was checking him out. When Izuku fidgets on his feet, the smirk only makes itself sharper.

“Well,” starts Izuku with the same tone, gulping even when his mouth dry, turning his body to look at him with the most unimpressed face he can master, “someone has to compensate for that big, ugly head of yours, Kacchan.”

“Fuck you, tiny bastard”, replies Kacchan, the pinnacle of eloquence, flipping him off and gifting him with a crude grimace.

 Fuck me yourself, coward, would Izuku like to answer, one day, when he’s brave enough, but he appreciates his head were it is, right on top on his shoulders and not blown off by an explosive punch. So he does the very next thing on his list and pokes his tongue out at his friend.

“We were so damn annoying as brats, ah?”, future-Kacchan says almost to himself as he approaches until he’s standing behind future-Izuku.

 And Izuku can’t help but swallow again, nearly choking with his own retreating tongue.

 If the blonde already seemed massive in comparison with his adult-self, now that he is close to him, teeny, barely out of puberty Izuku, he, wow, wow he looks like he could engulf all his body with his own and no part of him would be visible to the world (and isn’t that a pretty mental image, right?, there, click, mentally saved to future references to use in naughty nights). Future-Kacchan towers over future-Izuku shoulder, and Izuku actually has to crane his neck to reach those irises made of fire. Fire that scalds somewhere lower in Izuku’s abdomen too, and he internally curses his crush, his libido, his size kink, Kacchan and future-Kacchan, and that stupid, oh, so sexy golden stubble the latter has on his chiseled jaw, chin and cheeks.

  He’s almost glad when future-Izuku hugs him to his chest, loosely circling his shoulders protectively, because that gives him some support to his weak, weak knees.

“Talk about yourself, I’m the cutest,” he presses his hand under Izuku’s chin, as if proudly showing him in a contest. Izuku blushes furiously, not expecting his future-self advances, “Look at me, look me, what a baby-face.”

“You say that as if you aren’t baby-faced too, stupid”, the blonde seems to consider something, then faster than lightning (or maybe Izuku’s senses are clouded by the proximity of such a fine specimen and his blood redirecting itself to his face and his lower parts instead going to his up brain), extends an arm over future-Izuku’s shoulder and grabs Izuku by his face. His hand is so big that it spans his face from side to side, thumb near his left ear and the tips of his other fingers under the hinge of his jaw. Izuku doesn’t know if he’s confused, scared or turned on. Maybe the three at the same time.

 And then future-Kacchan just squeezes his cheeks, without mercy, like he liked to do when they were children and torturing Izuku’s big, fat baby-cheeks was one of his favorite hobbies.

 At least he’s not biting them Izuku is not sure he could survive that right now.

“So squishy”, mutters future-Izuku, more to himself than anything, not noticing or not caring that his younger version is one second away to faint. What. Is. Happening.

“Now you have other things squishier that your face cheeks”, adds future-Kacchan, helping in nothing at all with his pointy canines showing in a wolfish grin.

“W-what… what does that even m-mean?”, asks Izuku in a high-pitched screech, with some difficulty with the bottom-half of his face locked in and squeezed in future-Kacchan massive hand. He doesn’t know what they are talking about, but his body feels the need to blush even harder.

 Neither of them responds, but future-Izuku throws the blond a scolding glare, what looks like an incriminating pink high on his cheekbones, the arm around Izuku tightening as if trying to shield him of whatever the meaning of those words is.

 The glint in future-Kacchan eyes is the same Kacchan had when he mocked his height a few minutes ago the next time he speaks.

“Hey, remember last year when that new secretary the thought you were a student interning at the agency because of your baby-face and asked you for your ID?”

 Future-Izuku looks like he’s been stabbed in the back, betrayed and left to die, and now you have two bright red Izukus in one room.

“You promised not to talk again about that incident!”

“Holy fuck, and you call us annoying, what the fuck, you’re such an embarrassment”, Kacchan groans suddenly, a long-suffering sound that Aizawa will be proud of, and pinches the bridge of his nose, tearing his eyes away from the other three. Izuku can’t really tell with his face trapped, but for a second, he thinks he sees the tips of his friend’s ear colored in pink.

“The grow-ups are talking so shut your hole”, snarls future-Kacchan without malice, before continuing the banter, using his free hand (why is he still squeezing Izuku’s face?!) to flicker the ear of his partner in the same way Kacchan did before, “Well, it was so fucking hilarious, and they are going to fucking forget it tomorrow, so it doesn’t count, don’t whine, damn, you’re such a big baby.”

“Well, you are still very annoying as an adult and a big meanie, and I’m going to full-cowl your ass into the ground for this.”

 Future-Kacchan snorts, flicking again the same ear to the growing irritation of future-Izuku, who pushes back and kicks his shin.

“I’m sure you’d like that, but don’t kid yourself, I will be the one beating your ass, bunny.”

 The new nickname and the gravel voice in which it is said would make Izuku produce shameful sounds (and, later, he’ll probably do, all night under the covers, recalling not only that bunny but also loosely interpreting the three previous words in his dirty favor until his memories reset or until his wrist gives up, whatever happens first), but in his priority list the heroing is still, and surprisingly, on top of any horniness, so all the embarrassment and confusion this chaotic situation is making him feel are overthrown by an electric excitement.

“Let’s find out”, he says, manic grin trying to find space to spread in his pinched cheeks. All the eyes fall upon him, but this time he doesn’t cover under them, too thrilled with his idea, “A match, quirks allowed. Two on two, the me’s against the you’s in one of the training grounds.”

 Kacchan is the first to holler, finally standing and cracking his fingers, teeth at display and eyes alight with the challenge. Soon, a twin expression blooms in his future version, Izuku’s one buzzing with invisible energy, as if One for All was already lighting across his skin.

“Bring it on, shortstuffs, we’re going to pulverize you.”

 Oh, boy, Aizawa is going to be very, very, very mad.




 At the end, there was no fight between any version of the future or the present because Aizawa caught them right when they were about to sneak away, and no protest or plead of valuable knowledge could convince him to let them have a match, the mere idea of the two pairs going for it and all the property damage that they could do in their shenanigans crushing the scale against their case and probably triggering a bunch of nightmares for a few weeks.

 A worse-than-murder-promising warning shined inside the exasperated teacher’s dry eyes while explaining with an even drier tone that the older pair would stay in the school grounds until the quirk’s effects disappeared, relocating into the building normally used to host guests who needed to sleep in. Present Izuku and Kacchan were hushed to class, his safety deemed assured and presence no longer needed.

 But if Izuku is characterized by something (besides his fanboy love for All Might, awkward cuteness and big, golden heart) is his stubbornness and determination to get what he wants, and he wants to learn more about their future counterparts, even if they can’t get that promising match. They are not only themselves, but the number four heroes! So many things can be learned from them! Yeah, Izuku would forget everything the next day, but just a few notes can’t hurt the time-continuum! And muscle memory works like a wonder sometimes too!

  With all those very reasonable reasons and a considerable dose of mischief, Izuku marches towards Kacchan when the last class’ bell rings, backpack already draped over his back and conspiratorial glint in his big, not-so-innocent eyes.

“Kacchan”, he whispers to the blond, trying to look innocuous to Present Mic, who is lingering at the teacher table, “Do you want to go and see if we can still talk a little bit with you know who?”

  The red in his friend’s eyes darkens with the proposal, hot and syrupy like blood, blood that lures out a dangerous white shark in the form of a sharp smile. Without verbally answering (and ain’t that wicked, wicked smirk enough to make Izuku’s insides all gooey), he collects his things and stands.

 The pair waves goodbye to their friends (well, Izuku says goodbye, Kacchan just grunts something like a caveman), making up some excuse about training together, and, boy, haven’t they done that regularly enough that it sounds credible.

“My, my, going behind a teacher’s orders to do as you please once again. I can’t believe you had everyone fooled at first with that pretty face and angelic smile. You’re a nasty little shit.”, comments Kacchan once they are on the corridor, merging among the mass of students ready to enjoy their weekend.

 Izuku’s belly, barely recovered by that health hazard smirk a few minutes ago, does some wild somersaults because has Kacchan said that he has a pretty face?, ah!, but, with all the practice he has from hiding his crush this long, he is able to fight the butterflies and scolds his features into a beatific illusion.

“I’m not. I’m just thirsty for knowledge.”

 They sidestep a group of first years, and when they pass them, Kacchan bumps his shoulder against his, crouching down a little to speak near his ear.  

“Yeah, knowledge my ass”, his tone is darker than coal and it ignites things in Izuku, things he shouldn’t be thinking about his childhood friend-turned-bully-turned-rival-turned-tentative-friend-again, much less in a highly crowed corridor. The next words feel like adding gasoline to an all-consuming fire, “Are you that impatient to lose and end up under me, nerd?”

 Izuku, inelegantly but totally justifiably, stumbles in his next step, tripping over his own feet and dirty thoughts. He prays to whoever god that is watching him make a fool out of himself that the beet red blush on his neck and cheeks passes for embarrassment by his almost close meet with the floor’s tiles. Somewhere among the rushing of blood in his ears, he hears Kacchan sniggering at him.

 Moments (terrifying, blood-curling and dreadful moments) like these, when Kacchan would throw such dirty worded comments or stand an ich too close to him, enough to feel his body heat, or look intensely at him like back at Aizawa’s office this morning as if he was thinking of eating him whole, makes him question if maybe Kacchan isn’t as oblivious of his crush as he makes everyone think and uses it as another bullet to shot and hurt Izuku with. 

 He tries not to dwell much in those moments: Kacchan isn’t like that anymore.

 With some difficulty, Izuku reconducts his line of thought to answer the barb his friend carelessly threw his way without incriminating himself or stuttering too much.

“F-First of a-all, we are not going to fight. Aizawa-sensei will give us detention until we graduate if he caught us fighting-fighting. But he never said we couldn’t talk to them and do a little exercise together. And if we end up practicing some moves with each other, just to learn, of course, well, UA promotes healthy-competitiveness and initiative, right?”

“What I said, such a nasty fucking little shit!”

“And second,” Izuku holds the door open for some students to pass, walking out after them, the sunlight warming his already warm skin; he grins lopsided at Kacchan, “who says I would lose? I think future-me and me would make a pretty awesome team… Maybe you shouldn’t be so cocky.”

 His cheeky grin is meet with fiery self-confident half-smile.

“You wish you could stand a chance. I don’t care if your future-copycat seems cool or whatever, he can’t never surpass mine.”

“We’ll see, Kacchan, we’ll see…”, they walk quietly for a bit, until a something pops out in Izuku mind, something that has been bothering him all day. He isn’t sure if he should share his suspicions with Kacchan, but his positive reaction at the idea of being a hero duo in the future gives him bravery to at least test the waters, “They seem… pretty close, right?

 Izuku could have been imagining things, projecting his wishes into their future counterparts. Obviously, they must be close, at least closer that Kacchan and him are right now, to go as a hero duo. But… watching them, he feels that there was something more there, underneath all the funny banter and bickering, in the way they orbited into each other spaces, never too far apart and subconsciously, in the way they communicated through their eyes and simple touches, like they were above words, living in their own private wavelength.

 They looked… well, like best friends look like.

 And the thought of being that to Kacchan (fruitless crush aside, some things are never meant to be and Izuku is more than content to let those feelings root inside himself in secret forever if that means that he gets a friendship and partnership like that)… there are no words to describe what it makes Izuku feel.

“Mmh… yeah, I guess”, Kacchan glances sideways in the opposite direction although Izuku is avoiding his eyes anyways, fidgeting with his crooked fingers.

“You looked… look?, will look?, super cool. Not that you aren’t cool now, you are, the coolest!, but yeah…”, the urge to bit his nails almost beats him, but he promised his mom that he would try to quit the bad habit after the tragedy that his fingers were the last time he took his anxiety on them.

“You won’t be so bad if I let you share my number four”, shoulders tense, gait forceful as if the ground has offended him somehow, Kacchan is undeniable uncomfortable, Izuku, stop asking, stop talking, stop, why don’t you stop?

“Y-yeah, isn’t it a bit crazy? Who could have guess! You and me… a hero duo… And c-close f-friends!”

 But apparently Kacchan has have enough with the topic, scowl loaded in his brows and snarl sharp and ready to stab when he turns sharply to glare at Izuku.

“What do you want me to say, fucker?!”

 Izuku doesn’t even know.

“N-nothing, nothing!”, Izuku shakes his hands agitatedly, begrudging himself for souring the good mood they had going before he had opened his big, silly mouth.

 Tense silence sits between them while they walk side by side, and Izuku swears he’s not sulking. It’s just! His feelings are all over the place after the encounter with his future-selves and the glimpse into the future that waits for him and for his relationship with Kacchan. It still feels like a dream, something straight out of his deepest wishes, too good to be true. And he wants it, that future, oh, how bad he wants it, the feeling overwhelming and scary and making him feel a little insecure.

“I guess…”, surprisingly, is Kacchan who speaks first, his tone more suited to a chamber of torture, as if someone was pulling out his words with pliers. He avoids looking at Izuku, gaze trained on the bushes on the side of the road, “I guess I wouldn’t hate it. Being with you. Like that. Best friends or whatever,” a quick glance, frown deep, “You still are and always will be a pathetic loser, but you’re sort of not totally shitty, I suppose.”

 The awkwardness is painting Kacchan’s taut expression, showing that, although it makes him terribly uncomfortable talking about anything feeling-related, he’s trying. God, he’s trying so damn hard, not only with Izuku, working with him to repair their relationship against all odds, but with everyone else. His character development is spectacular, yes, he’s still explosive, and rude, and has a mouth to shame the most trained sailor, but he now controls his anger better, and you even can catch him saying ‘thank yous’ and ‘sorrys’ more often.

 The teenager is growing into a quite fine adult.   

 Needless to say, it doesn’t help Izuku infatuation, but he’s not bothered by it in the least.

 So, thankful and touched by Kacchan’s admission, Izuku hides the wide smile that threatens to split his face behind his hand, staring at the ground to cover behind eyelids the heart-eyes pouring out his enamored gaze, and then speaks.

“Hey”, it is what he says, waiting until a glowering Kacchan looks at him again, tips of the ears a little pink. Izuku points at the building they’re heading with his chin, repressing the grin that tries to break free on his lips, “I race you to the door”, and then, without more warning, starts running, yellow backpack hitting the top of his butt and red sneakers squeaking against the ground.

“Motherfucker…” he hears Kacchan yell before he follows him, insults and threats flying with the same grace as his rapidly approaching steps.

 Izuku laughs loudly, wind in his hair, love and happiness light in his heart.

 The guests building is still far, so when they reach the stairs leading to the big doors, both are panting, heavy breaths escaping their chest and some drops of sweat dampening his faces.

“I win”, gleams Izuku, back against the heavy door, being the first one to tap on the knob.

“You’re a fucking dirty cheater, and I’m going to murder you”, the sun makes Kacchan’s blonde hair glow like gold and irises seem liquid.

“Wow, someone is a sore loser.”

 Seeing the glare that promises slow, cruel agony that Kacchan throws his way, Izuku hurries inside the building, but this time he’s not fast enough, his friend chasing after him; he isn’t satisfied in his revenge until he pins Izuku in a chokehold and makes him cry with merciless, unforgiving tickles in his ribs.

 The building is similar to the student’s dorms, smaller but with the same layout and design, so when Kacchan releases him and he gets to calm his gasps and wipe his tears, they walk to where the common room is, expecting to meet their future-selves chilling there.

“Hello?”, asks Izuku to an empty room. Aizawa said that their dopplegangers would be the only ones in the building, so there is no fear to disturb any other visitor.

“We should try the rooms”, suggests Kacchan after a full minute without response. 

 Izuku bites his lip, leaving his backpack in the couch.

“Maybe we should have checked with them beforehand...”

“What?, you’re chickening now?”

“No! But perhaps they are tired. Or busy, I don’t know.”

“Pussy”, and with that, Kacchan throws his own bag into the couch and walks towards the stairs.

 To prove that he’s not a pussy, c’mon, Kacchan, that’s sexist, Izuku passes him in the stairs, heading first into the corridor lined with doors to the personal rooms.

 He’s about to call out again a hello when a grumble resonates through the walls, seemingly coming by the farthest room. A quick sound, like a sharp shushing, follows it.

 Izuku glances at Kacchan, confusion clear in his face.

“Maybe they are already working out?”, he tries, uncertain.

 Kacchan just shrugs, eyebrows pinched, before pushing Izuku’s shoulder to compel him to keep walking.

 The sounds grow louder as they get closer, although they’re still a muffled amalgam of grunts and groans, a little gasp here, a quiet sigh there.

 And then, a slap.

 Like a proper slap, hand against soft meat, skin against skin, unmistakable, even with the walls separating Izuku’s ears from the source.

 Izuku’s brain comes to a halt before his steps do, stopping him close to the door, withing arm reach. The sounds are making him start to feel something that doesn’t know how to interpret but that leaves his the base of Izuku’s belly tingling.

“Goddammit, you’re so loud”, the voice, deep and gravel (future-Kacchan’s) is strained, as if keeping it low takes a great effort.

 The strange, disconcerting something gains strength at the raspy tone, a warm creeping up his neck that nothing has to do with his previous run or the tickling.

 “C-Can’t help it. So good. Again”, and, what?, how?!, Izuku has never imagined that his voice could sound like that.

“So demanding, Deku.”

 Two consecutives slaps resound with the power of a gunshot, and the long, pitiful whine that follows suit certainly feels like a bullet, making Izuku shiver with his whole body.

 They should go. They… they probably should go, Izuku doesn’t know what’s going on (yes, yes you do, liar, you only whine like that when you’re alone in your room, hidden under your bed sheets, one hand inside your pajama pants and two fingers up your ass) but something tells him they shouldn’t be here.

“We should go”, whispers Kacchan, and, boy, isn’t it jarring to hear his words uncharacteristically shaking.

“Y-yeah, w-we should, yeah…”

 But Izuku’s feet have been rooted to the floor, eyes nailed to the unsuspicious door and heart thundering widly, hard and fast on his temples. His body seems to be on edge, and he can’t think straight anymore.

“Deku!”, Kacchan urges, still whispering, but Izuku’s ears don’t register it, neither seeing how his friend’s cheeks are turning red, and how the red in his eyes is turning a little bit panicked, which by itself it’s pretty troubling.

 But his clouded mind isn’t unable to compel his body to obey, totally losing the control over all his limbs. No!, walk away, move your feet, not your arms, what are you doing, no!, stop, don’t open the door, don’t do it, stop!

 As in a dream or in a horror film, he sees his own scarred hand reaching forward until the palm touches the doorknob, and under the pressure, the door starts to open, slow and silent.

 And okay, he subconsciously knows what he thinks he’s going to find in the room, however that doesn’t prepare him at all to handle it.

 If he thought that coming face to face with their adult versions was disconcerting and bizarre, his brain unable to wrap around the idea, well, the scene that his eyes come upon to right now just makes that look like a cheap illusion, actively frying all his synapsis at once.

“C’mon, baby, you’re doing it so good”, future-Kacchan is saying, no, growling, laying on the bed, white sheets pooled at the end of it. The sun coming from the large window at the other side of the room highlights the glistening of the sheen of sweat that is covering expanses of pale yet flustered skin, “You ride me so good, baby.”

 Ironically, the first thing that crosses Izuku’s short circuited mind when it registers that, yep, his future-self is straddling and riding his best friend’s dick with an abandon that rocks the whole bed, is a petty “look who ended under who, Kacchan”. The second, right after, isn’t a hysterical breakdown (it will come), but a thought about how… how sensual his own body looks.

 He may not be as bulky as Kacchan, but his lean muscles are still defined, hard and coiled under rosy freckled skin, bulging with each roll of his hips. Powerful thighs (and, yeah, Kacchan can have the biceps and wide shoulders, but, man, aren’t Izuku’s some massive thighs and glutes) frame future-Kacchan’s pelvis and they move with precise and formidable strength, raising future-Izuku’s body over it before slamming him back down, fast and deep. Arms extended in front of him, half-bracing, half-petting the blonde’s chest, the muscles on his back rolling and arching, neck bowed in a lewd curve with his head thrown back, and mouth wet and open with pleasure in a red rimmed ‘o’…  the scene transpires such a sensuality Izuku can’t help but doubt: is that really him?, how can he move like that, look like that, so debauched and yet so… godly?

“A-ah, ah! I’m close, I’m s-so c-close, ah! Are… nghh, a-are you?”, more than words, what escapes Izuku’s counterpart sounds like a stretched moan, and even from his position at the door (the little logical, decent part of his mind is asking why the hell he is still looking like a fucking creepy voyeur, but for the life of him he can’t stop watching and the men inside the room seem too occupied with each other to notice) can see the wild shivering that shakes his future-self’s entire body, movements coming more and more desperate and uncoordinated with each passing thrust.   

 Future-Kacchan moves his hands, previously groping greedily the other’s ass (okay, so that’s what he meant about future-Izuku having something squishier than his face-cheeks…), one coming down to smack the plush globe (god lord), hard enough to leave a red handprint on the skin, before circling his lover’s waist and splaying it in the small of his back possessively, guiding and supporting the other’s erratic, frenetic movements. And, sweet Jesus, the action seems just to delight future-Izuku, who all but wails and speeds his motions even more, hips nearly blurring.

“Yeah, yeah, me too, baby…”, with the other hand, future-Kacchan wraps future-Izuku’s dick and starts pumping the length, slow but tightly enough to make the other sob. The look on his sweaty face is hungry, like he can’t get enough of the expressions future-Izuku is making in the chase of his own pleasure, “Fuck, fuck, I fucking love… when you cry on my cock… you’re so… damn pretty, Izuku”.

 And, certainly, there are tears running down future-Izuku’s crimson cheeks, face contorted and flustered, his panting mouth open, eyebrows crunched and half-lidded shining eyes locked into the man’s below him (Izuku thinks he could cry too listening his given name coming from any Kacchan’s mouth).

 It only takes a few more seconds, a few more tugs at his already weeping dick, a few more rough thrusts impaling himself on future-Kacchan’s one, to make future-Izuku top over the edge. His thighs clamp down around future-Kacchan’s hips, a broken moan falls off his red-bitten lips, whole body trembling while stripes of white fly into the blonde’s hand and stomach.

 He’s still coming when future-Kacchan arches on the bed, burying himself deeper, face scrunched and red, a rasp groan shaking him in his way out his lungs, the hand on the back of future-Izuku leaving five scarlet lines where the nails scrap the skin.

 The eye contact never breaks, and something soft clouds both their faces when future-Izuku crumples into future-Kacchan’s chest, expression blissed, and, with a content huff, the latter caresses the damp curls of his bangs, moving them out the way to leave a sweet kiss on his forehead.

 That simple but meaningful gesture twists Izuku’s heart painfully, somewhat making him feel something more intense that what he was already feeling watching himself and the creature of his dreams having sex. The emotion clogs his throat and stings his eyes, the heated sensation that viewing the passionate, intense sex scene had awakened between his legs dying almost instantly in the face of the wrongness of being a hidden witness of that kiss, so sweet and so intimate, sits heavy on his stomach. He shouldn’t have watched it, all of it, neither of it, the sex, the kiss, was something private, and he had no right, no right to… to… he…

 Ashamed with himself and choking on his emotions, Izuku pivots on his feet, quickly, with all the intention of running before the adults get a chance to notice him, but he collides with something firm that blocks his escape.

 That something being, specifically, his Kacchan’s chest.

 Kacchan, who was inches apart from him, completely forgotten for once. Kacchan, who must have witnessed the very same act between the future versions of themselves over Izuku’s head. Kacchan, who didn’t leave. Kacchan, whose cheeks are deep red, and eyes painted with something close to horror.

 Izuku is already internally panicking before he even realizes that the impact has made him lose balance, and his attempts to rearrange himself in order to not be discovered turn futile the moment he grasp s the door, still half opened, and it cedes under his weight.

 He comes crashing into the room, butt first.

“What the f...!?”, future-Kacchan yells from the bed, stopping himself when he looks at the pathetic lump Izuku must be making of himself, sprawled on the floor like a ratty ragdoll.

“L-little me?”, stutters future-Izuku, shock laced in his high-pitched voice.

 Izuku thinks he has never, in his entire life, wished more to a hole to open and swallow him whole, not even when he accidentally called All Might ‘dad’ in the middle of a class somewhere in second year.

“Sorry!”, he practically screams, rolling on the ground to a kneeling position (his legs tremble so much he doubts he can stand without falling down again), gaze fixed on the carpet, and his entire head so red with blush that he’s getting dizzy, “I-I’m so so sorry! I-We-no… We just wanted to talk to-to you! Like, like to see if we could… t-t-train or something! I didn’t… sorry!, I didn’t mean to-to interrupt you, or-or-or s-spy on you or anything, I swear! I just… w-we heard n-noises! And I-I-I…”, he risks a glance to the bed and immediately regrets it when he sees the half-defensive, half confused embrace its two occupants are in, future-Kacchan’s arm protectively around future-Izuku’s shoulders, one hand extended and ready to blast the intruder. Izuku’s counterpart has halfway seated, but he’s still straddling the blonde and... and future-Kacchan’s… his… is still inside… his… his… and something… something pearly-white and sticky has come out!

“Kid, breath or you’re gonna faint.”

“I-I’m so s-sorry!”

“So you said.”

  Izuku covers his face with his hands, embarrassment cursing through his veins so scalding and strong that he starts to tear up, a pitiful sniffle shaking his body.

“Hey, hey, hey, Izuku”, subtle noise and rumpling is followed by footsteps, and then gentle fingers is grabbing one of his wrists, “don’t cry, it’s okay…”

“I-It’s not. I-I s-spied you. Having sex. Without your consent.”

“Yeah, I think you’re more traumatized by that than we are”, his counterpart sighs, free hand petting back his curls in a calming way, “We shouldn’t have been doing that here, with the door unlocked.”

“And whose fault is that?”, Izuku hears future-Kacchan grumble lowly.

 The presence in front of him moves slightly, probably to glare at the bed.

“I don’t recall you complaining when you came in my ass, Kacchan.”

“You’re very persuasive when you’re horny”, sulks the blond at the same time that Izuku whimpers an “Oh my god”, a fresh wave of tears overflowing his eyes, the flush so intense that hurts. Too much, everything about this is just too much.

 The fingers gripping his wrist tug, still gentle but firm, and Izuku caves after a few tries, letting his adult version move the shield that covers his face to peek at him. He’s crouching in front of him, still pretty naked, but at least he has his red boxers on now. An even gentler than his hands expression is on his face.

“There you are. It’s okay, you’re not in trouble”, his voice is so soft, the same one you use to try to convince a stray kitten in the street to eat the food on your hand.

“I’m sorry”, Izuku apologizes one more time, looking into those big, green eyes that are the same as his but not.

“I know.”

“I just wanted to…”, what, what did he wanted?

 A thumb strokes his flushed, damp cheek when he sniffs again.

“I know.”

 And there is no lie in the plain admission, recognition clear in the little sad curve on the corner of his smile. He certainly knows better than anyone else (perhaps even including Izuku himself) how it is, how it feels, the longing, the heartache that is loving someone who doesn’t love you back the same way; the doubts, the dreams, the hope, the guilt over selfishly wanting more than what you, lucky you, already have. The lonely nights, the sleepless nights overthinking every action, the fear at just the mere, crushing thought of rejection, the joy the simplest touches sparkles, the fantasies wishing there weren’t your own fingers making you melt, fantasies of sex, of kisses (soft kisses, rough kisses, all kind of kisses), of hugs after a long, tough day, of sleeping, just sleeping together tucked into each other’s arms. Fantasies wishing for a sweet, sweet kiss on your forehead.

 So when Izuku’s brain made, without him noticing, the connection between the closeness their future versions had and those noises outside the room, it couldn’t help the raw want, the blazing need of having just a glimpse, just a little glimpse of what made all the things above worth them.

 Izuku shouldn’t be surprised by the man’s in front of him comprehension and understanding; they’re each other after all.

“You’re going to stay there all day like a creep or are you gonna say something?”, future-Kacchan speaks suddenly, sitting on the bed (also, orange underwear covering him). Izuku startles, at first assuming that he’s talking to them, but when he glances in his direction, the red gaze is fixed on the room’s entrance.

“What the fuck do you want me to say?”, again, Kacchan’s presence has slipped Izuku’s conscious mind, the turmoil of emotions hoarding his full attention. But he’s still there, under the door’s frame, whole body rigid, white-knuckled fists curled tight, and a bitter expression that promises hell, like he’s preparing to bolt or pounce at any minute. He startles a bit when his counterpart addresses him, but the angry grimace doesn’t leave his features, “So you’re fucking, fine, whatever, like I give a goddamn shit. It means nothing.”

“Fuck you, brat, it means more than nothing”, he lifts a finger, pointing at Kacchan with it as if it was a gun’s barrel, and then drops the bomb, “We’re fucking married.”

  Seriously, no, seriously, how many colossal, life-changing revelations are left? What’s next? Can be this become more surreal?! Izuku’s brain can’t keep with all the surprises, each other hitting harder than an All Might’s Detroit Smash.


 Future-Izuku sighs again, shoulders sagging, and leans back on his haunches. His hand is still cupping Izuku’s face, and he doesn’t seem to be aware that he’s tapping nervously his fingers against the younger’s cheek.

“The wedding was last year; our anniversary is in two months. We’ve been a couple for six years.”

 “Wha-what the fuck?”, stutters Kacchan going even more tense, fight or flight response abandoned during the second he takes to recover from the shocking revelation. The red of his eyes burns with something, the emotion too blistering and smoke-filled to decipher, “Married? Me and him? That’s not… that’s not possible, the fucking I can get”, (and if Izuku wasn’t reeling by the repulsed tone with which he addresses them as a couple, he’ll be ecstatic interpreting that last sentence as Kacchan not minding having sex with him?!),“but the… the couple and married shit… No, we’re not… we’re not like you, it’s not a fucking possibility.”

“C’mon, that is bullshit”, future-Izuku doesn’t frown nor glare as his husband does, but is a close thing when he feels his younger-self’s chin trembling under his palm, tears again filling in the deeps of his eyes with the harsh words, “You may still be in your denial phase, but you also already know that I’m in love with you.”

 Detroit Smash!

“What?”, Izuku’s voice is softer this time, weakened. Dislodging the hand that is cradling his head, turns his glassy gaze to his friend, heart squeezed in a tight knot.

 Kacchan glares back at him, the fire in his irises turning to embers, fuming expression falling for a moment into almost guilt. He quickly covers it with an aggressive snarl.

“Of course I fucking know, Deku”, the angry admission makes Izuku gasp, betrayal and hurt stabbing his chest, “Every fucking loser knows, you’re the most obvious thing the whole damn planet with your… your stupid heart-eyes and puppy face beaming every single time I’m near; I’d be fucking stupid and blind if I wouldn’t know.”

 It is quite difficult to swallow around the coiled emotions (hurt, dread, betrayal, disappointment, embarrassment) that seize Izuku’s throat, so his next words come out winded.

“You-you knew and you still… Were you m-making f-fun of me all this t-time? God, I-I thought… I thought you were pass that, but clearly you s-still enjoy to b-bully me, r-right?”

 Kacchan stiffs as if he’s been punched in the gut, a ghost expression of hurt flicking across his face. It is rapidly overshadowed by wrath.

“How you dare?! I was not making fun of you, God, how can you be such an idiot!”, he stomps inside the room a few steps, aggressively pointing at Izuku, “I just don’t want them, okay? I don’t want your feelings, so I just ignored them! I’ve just learned to be your dammed friend again; I don’t need your ridiculous, stupid feelings on top of that! So, don’t you ever think about turning this against me, calling me things you know I’m not anymore! I didn’t ask for the fantasies you have about me or about us, it’s your damn fault, not mine, I did nothing wrong.”

 Fury chokes Izuku, feeling oh, so enraged, at Kacchan, at his dismissal, at himself and his hopes, why the fuck his heart decided to fall for this man? Is it, is he, really that masochist? Abruptly, he stands, facing his friend’s defensive stance.

“You don’t have to accept or reciprocate them but don’t call my feelings ridiculous or stupid. If you really respect me, you shouldn’t insult what I can’t help to feel! And seriously, nothing wrong?”, he stabs his index finger in Kacchan’s chest, ignoring how the other’s nostrils inflates with irritation, a bull ready to charge, “Then, please, explain to me why the hell you do all those things that, now that it’s so obvious that you know affect me and those fantasies you don’t want, seem so deliberate? What is that, if not something to make fun of me? Ah!?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about”, but again, Izuku can tell he is lying.

“Oh, no? You just told me after today’s class how much I would like to be under you!”

 Kacchan’s adam’s apple wobbles when he swallows, firing a quick glance at his side, suddenly conflicted.

“That’s not… I’m not…”

“You’re fucking unbelievable”.

“Okay, boys, this is escalating quickly”, hands grab Izuku’s shoulders from behind, forcing him to take a few steps back from Kacchan. His future-self uses the gap created between them to slide his body as a divider. With a placatory expression, he lightly touches Kacchan’s arm, “let’s everybody calm down a bit, yeah?”

“Fuck this shit, I don’t have to explain myself, I’m leaving”, the blonde slaps the hand away, but before he can turn, Izuku pettily yells at him again, future-Kacchan’s big hands tightening his clutch on him.

“Of course you’re leaving! I swear, it’s impossible to hold a proper conversation with you, you just yell, and insult, and then leave when something doesn’t go your way. You’re so childish!”

“You know what, Deku? If you’re so into us fucking and being together bullshit, stay here and play whatever this damn fantasy of yours is. I don’t give a flying fuck, just leave me out of it!”

“Well, maybe I’ll do! Maybe I’ll let them both fuck me because you’re too coward to do it yourself!”

 The screamed words reverberate in the room, only to be followed by a dense, suffocating silence. Kacchan is gawking at Izuku with a stricken expression, undecipherable turmoil rolling over his face, jaw slightly loose in its hinges. Izuku, on his part, is scowling at him, but the realization on what he has just said is starting to sink in the part of his brain that isn’t overloaded with emotions. The way is future version’s mouth hangs open, eyes wide with shock, prompts a blush to start traveling up Izuku’s neck.

 The hands on Izuku’s shoulders feel a hundred times heavier and warmer than mere seconds ago, and the sudden thought of how close the four of them hits like a lighting, bouncing between the bone of his skull, razing its insides without mercy.  

 What the hell is wrong with him?!

 But apparently, he is not the only passenger in this depraved train of thought.

 “Is it bad if I feel turned on by that idea?”, future-Kacchan is the first to speak, after a couple of long, nerve-wracking minutes, his question quiet but completely unapologetic.

 Izuku dies inside, deep red color covering his whole face now, burning with all the force of his shame and a little bit of horniness (after all, he’s just a young adult with rampaging hormones, surrounded by three, three very, very attractive men). Where is that hole that has to swallow and erase him from existence again?

“Yes, yes, it is! But…”, future-Izuku’s shrills, a pretty pink kissing his cheeks too; he continues after a whole minute of nervous silence, “but you’re not the only one…”, afterwards he giggles, a bit frenetic, green eyes hastily darting between Izuku’s and the two blondes, “You know, it is technically possible and innocuous. They will forget everything tomorrow, it will be like nothing of this happened”, this time, his gaze lingers over Izuku, a calculating glint glimmering behind his pupils; he bites the corner on his bottom lip, white canine juxtaposing hard against the vermillion of his mouth. The look makes Izuku shiver, “I may feel like sinning a little with a bit of selfcest…”

 Izuku chokes on his own spit.

“Of course you do, bunny”, unhelpfully, future-Kacchan adds amused, his fingers massaging slowly Izuku’s shoulders, moving towards his neck.

 And Izuku suffers another emotional whiplash, the searing hurt and anger at the fight with Kacchan melting into a roaring desire and curiosity that piles on the bottom of his belly and in the inside of his ribcage, not without a pretty big bunch of confusion thrown into the mix.

 A gasp escapes his lips when future-Kacchan’s thumb trails his definitely red-cherry earshell.

“You know”, future-Izuku says in a leveled tone, the hand previously rejected by Kacchan coming back careful. This time it isn’t denied, although Kacchan tenses nevertheless when it cups tenderly his cheek, pad of his first finger rubbing the pinkish skin. The look on his face is still conflicted, however, another emotion dilates his pupils, to the complete shock of Izuku, “our relationship is always meant to be intense. It’s a known fact by all people who come across us that we both are intense people, and that’s something we can’t change. We fight villains intensely, we love our family intensely… we fight and love each other intensely too”, green eyes meet green when the gaze turns to him, and Izuku’s breath hitches when his other-self’s free hand strokes his chest, directly above where his wild heart beat is, “You both are still young and there is so much you’re going to live, you’re just starting to gain the experience that helps channel that intensity in a healthier way. Not perfect, because, believe, me there will be bad times, really bad, ugly, heartbreaking times, and both, yes, both of you will screw things, and make mistakes, and hurt each other so, so much,” his gaze moves upward, finding his husbands eyes above Izuku’s head. The softness and love the look exudes is blinding, “But you have to always keep in mind that it will hurt that bad because you also love so much. That perspective is what will make you move forward and solve the problems you’ll find together. And at the end, that’s what matters the most.”

“It’s okay, to be scared of feelings”, mumbles future-Kacchan above Izuku’s head, undoubtedly locking eyes with his younger self, “But you can’t let that fear keep you off being loved. And off loving”, he says the words as if he has experience, as if it isn’t the first time that he uses them to convince himself.

 Another type of dense silence weights down the air. Although the speech has been heavy with emotion, Izuku feels something lifting his chest, and he no longer feels that ugly, petty angriness, just a bit of hurt lingering in his cells.

 When he glances at Kacchan, the conflict remains in his beautiful features, but at least his body isn’t ready to bolt out the door, doubt and deliberation shimmering behind his eyes, deep on thought.

“Now, I’d like to leave this animosity behind for today; I really hate when we fight, even we are not really the ones fighting in this case”, future-Izuku chuckles, shifting the mood again with a playful, saucy grin, both his hand still lightly in contact with the younger pair, “What do you want to do? Do you want to have a probably extremely bizarre but yet surely kind of good ménage a quatre? Or we could head downstairs and watch some TV, or go outside and give Aizawa sensei a bunch of grey hairs? What do you say? It’s totally up to you, boys.”

 Izuku chews his lips, weighing the options. But there is no kidding himself: he knows exactly what he really wants.

 So he gathers all his courage, tired of waiting things to happen instead of making them happen, and touches his older version’s hand, which rests on his chest, trailing his fingers up until they can circle the lean muscle of his toned shoulder. He shares a meaningful look with him, earnest and determined, its meaning clear to his counterpart, whose grin widen as he leans down. Izuku meets him halfway, careful to not dislodge future-Kacchan’s hands from his shoulders and neck.

 These same hands clench subconsciously when the pair of lips, the same one from different timelines, come together in a kiss.

 The first thing that Izuku notes is that the lips touching his are warm and plush, a little parched, and that they feel super nice pressing against his mouth. Now, he doesn’t have the most extensive experience in kissing matters, only having shared friendly peeks with some of his friends a couple of times, but he knows the dynamics, or at least, the theory. So after some close-mouthed nibbling and prodding, he experimentally pokes his tongue out and licks the seam of his other version’s upper lip. The action is received with a satisfied hum and an open, inviting mouth.

“H-holy fuck”, rasps future-Kacchan when tongues start to get involved, the chaste kiss developing into something deeper, wetter. Dirtier. Izuku notes how one of his huge hands sneak into his hair, fingers entangling themselves in his curls, encouragingly petting the scalp; the other one leaves his shoulder to find a similar place in his counterpart’s shorter hair, at his nape. A shiver rakes Izuku’s whole body when the blonde presses closer his much larger front against his back, making him feel deliciously trapped, squished between the two men, “If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”

 Izuku concurs.

 The kiss is slow enough that Izuku doesn’t feel too overwhelmed by it, future-Izuku probably going easy on him and not minding too much his clumsiness or inexperience, patiently dealing with his attempts to copy the motions of his much more experienced mouth. Experience that shows and makes Izuku’s knees tremble when his tongue is sucked into its warmth, the wave of heat that the action unties forcing a high-pitched moan out of him.

“Mmmm”, hums in a low tone the older Izuku, leaning back after pecking one last time his younger-self’s tingling lips. He looks down at him with wide eyes, the black inside his irises eating almost all the green, his own mouth pink and shining with saliva, “T-that… that was more amazing and less weird than I thought it would be.”

“It was hot as fuck, it is what it was.”

“Again?”, ask not so timidly Izuku, not wanting to sound too needy, but it truly have felt amazing, and the burning sensation in his lower belly is demanding more, more, more. His head is starting to feel fuzzy with desire, and he’s satisfied noting that he doesn’t really care.

“Yes, please”, but before they can connect their mouths again, Kacchan speaks for the first time since the fight.

“You…”, he clears his throat when his voice creaks, hiding his uneasiness behind a frown when everyone looks at him. Izuku’s heart jumps into his own gullet, anxious of what his friend is going to say. Is he leaving? Has found it disgusting how easy and desperate Izuku is to participate in some close action with two people who are basically themselves?, “You shouldn’t be doing that with the fucking door open. Haven’t you learnt anything, dumbasses? At least move so I can close and lock it this time, shitty nerds, the last thing I want is someone to come and caught us, I swear, you’re so stupid”, the last part is almost grumbled, a deep, very pretty red blossoming in his pale cheeks. When he makes eye contact with Izuku, there is something vulnerable shimmering there, but also a raw hunger that makes the latter lick his spit covered lips. Pupil dilated eyes follow the movement carefully.

“Oh, god, the door!”, yelps future-Izuku, jumping in the air, face comically falling into an expression of horror and shock.

 Future-Kacchan snorts; Izuku beams, because Kacchan has said, insults aside, ‘us’, he’s planning to stay (as if not was obvious in the hungry way he’s staring at Izuku), they are going to do this; then he panics a little because they’re going to do this, they are really going to have a bizarre foursome.

 However, panic doesn’t overtake the giddiness and excitement that thrums through his veins, making every single one of his cells feel overcharged. It’s almost like sensing One for All igniting, but much more primal and… hotter. Oh, boy, being naughty never felt so right.

 Thus, after verifying twice that the door was, indeed, locked, the four of them end up bumbling deeper into the room as an awkward eight-legged crab, and then they are falling into the unmade bed as a mess of too many limbs.

 The bed, while bigger that the ones in the student’s dorms, isn’t equipped at all to deal with two full grown adults and their two younglings, so it takes a little fumbling and readjusting for them four to find a comfortable position.

 Although Izuku isn’t sure if ‘comfortable’ is the word he would use, given that he’s sitting in future-Kacchan’ lap (and, hello, hello!, what’s that that he feels poking right into the crevice of his ass!, someone is really happy to see him…), half facing his future-self, half facing his Kacchan, who has discarded his uniform jacket and is seated between his spread legs, not touching anyone yet, but intently staring with a predatory edge on his expression.

 ‘Overwhelming’, ‘extremely arousing’, ‘better-than-any-fantasy-he’s-ever-come-up-with’. Those words define much better Izuku’s actual predicament. Not that he is complaining. Far from it, not when a burning mouth is again on his within seconds of taking off his shoes and socks, kissing him stupid as he previously requested, how kind and diligent he will be. The big, callous hand that travels across his chest, over the white shirt, awakening a path of goosebumps even when the cloth prevents skin-on-skin contact, is a very nice addition to the deal too.

“Let’s take this off, baby boy”, whispers a deep voice in his ear, damp and ticklish, and Izuku jolts, moaning into the mouth that is sucking into his lower lip as if it was a savory treat, the heat between his legs raising to levels almost unbearable. Future-Kacchan chuckles low, darkly, thin lips brushing the sensitive shell of his ear as he starts to peel him off his uniform jacket, “You like that, don’t you?”, knuckles press down his spine, in the opposite direction of the trembles shaking Izuku's body, until they can wrap themselves around his nape, tenderly playing with the strands of hair that curl there, “Me, calling you baby boy.”

 This time the sound that escapes his throat is a garbled whine, his hips buckling up in search of some friction to alleviate the pressure building inside his pants. Wha…how can he feel so on edge with just a few words and barely there touches? Kacchan really knows how to play his body like a prodigal musician…

“Don’t…”, future-Izuku releases his mouth, and Izuku glances downwards, squinting a little, fascinated by the thin thread of saliva that connects both their bottom lips; it breaks when his doppelganger swipes his tongue out to lick it, tugging at it then with his teeth. He glares a little at his husband, but the blush of his face has intensified, and he seems a little breathless, “Don’t be mean, Kacchan. You know what that nickname does to me.”

 Izuku feels the blonde’s grin blossoming against his temple, dexterous fingers untying his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, as if he didn’t have any rush, stroking and fondling each inch of freckled skin revealed, every touch speeding up Izuku’s breath rate. When the item of clothing is completely open, those same fingers make the reverse trail, goosebumps blooming everywhere, running upward until they close around Izuku’s slightly trembling chin.

“Oh, baby boy, but you do love when I’m mean”, he purrs, tilting Izuku’s face away from his adult-self and into his direction.

 There is nothing that could have prepared Izuku to the way future-Kacchan ravish his mouth in an nearly bruising kiss. The make out is startling different from the previous one, not better, not worst, but practically opposite. Where future-Izuku had been gentle, coaxed his mouth to melt with deep but unhurried stokes and sensual tonguing, future-Kacchan takes it apart, demanding unyielded submission and reigning over it with bites, sucks and aggressive motions, his tongue toughly moving in and out the younger’s open lips as if he was fucking his mouth with it. Izuku arches under the ministrations, closing his eyes tightly and gladly submitting himself. Somewhere in his clouded mind, he registers Kacchan curse; does he like watching how much Izuku is gone for him, how easily he would let him take control over his mouth, over his body, his heart, his soul, over all of himself? He moans loudly just in case, to make it crystal clear.

 Breath comes rushing inside Izuku’s lungs when future-Kacchan lets him go, not to far, but enough to take a hold of his spinning head. He doesn’t miss, though, the smug smirk the blonde directs to his husband, who is ruthless biting his cherry-red lips, eyes glassy and pupils dilated under a scowl.

“I can be mean too, big guy”, is what he replies to the unsaid challenge, and with that, snatches Kacchan’s shirt by its front in a firm fist and yanks, mouths clashing in another lewd kiss.

 And yes, it’s bizarre, watching himself kissing with Kacchan (who has his eyes opened as saucers, expression dumb and funny, but who still grabs a handful of green curls and bites down hungrily the lips touching his), but it’s also extremely arousing, the ferocity of the heat that spreads like a wildfire inside Izuku’s body threatening to consume him whole.

“Those stupid names are weird as fuck, why are we weird as fuck?”, mutters Kacchan when they part, gasping a little, trying to feign annoyance at the odd nicknames and their chaotic counterparts dynamic, but being betrayed by the deep crimson painting his cheeks and ears and the way his pants stretches around the growing bulge in his crotch.

 Future-Izuku pecks his lips again, just a coy touch, smiling oh, so sweetly and innocently before looking up at him between dense, dark eyelashes that frame emeralds sparkling with mischief.

“Mmm, you don’t know the half of it. You’re too young for me to be calling you that right now, but wait until you discover your daddy-kink.”

 Both Kacchans sputter; Izuku has, at this point, given up trying to keep up with the strange, kinky turns his life is going to make and just want more kisses and to get out his trousers because his dick is definitely not comfortable in there.

 So he reaches for the hand still splayed over his naked torso and tries to mimic that innocent, sugary-sweet expression future-Izuku has made as he timidly urges it to move lower.

 Future-Kacchan snickers again, nosing the side of his head before he starts leaving wet kisses all along his jaw and neck, not marking because those may not dissapear, but enough to reduce Izuku into a mess. That huge palm lets itself be leaded down until the hem of the pants, where cloth meets skin, and then, by its own volition unbuttons them. Izuku’s breath hitches, trapped between the crazy beats of his heart when the back of that hand caress his navel but not quite get to the troublesome part where he actually needs it.

“What did I say, you are so damn irresistible when you’re horny”, the stubbled chin of the blonde rubs the delicate skin of his neck, triggering a whole-body shiver out of Izuku, and when a thumb appears to trace his pout, he instinctively opens his mouth to welcome it inside.

 The thumb tastes salty and sweet at the same time, nitroglycerin sweat, and it weights on Izuku’s tongue, pressing it down. Locking his only-half-faux pleading eyes into the ruby irises of Kacchan’s doppelganger, he starts sucking at it with all his eagerness, pouting his lips even more and even hollowing a bit his reddened cheeks. He doesn’t know if he gets to the level of sexy and sensual his adult version can achieve, given he lacks eight years of experience, but he mustn’t be doing it so bad when the other three people in the room let out a heavy breath at his action.

 It’s his turn to sigh when, finally, the warm, big palm dips under the waistband of both his trousers and underwear and cups his aching erection. The contact makes his hips shutter, legs jerking and involuntary hitting Kacchan. Far from being annoyed, he holds said twitching leg by the ankle and forces it wider to get a better look, an entranced spell all over in his face, gaze jumping between Izuku’s mouth, circled around that broad finger, and his displayed crotch, the fondling hand inside jerking him off unhurriedly, movements obscured but unmistakable under the white of his boxers.

 What a lewd image must he be making of himself and how little shits he gives.

“Like what you see?”, inquires him future-Izuku, softly, asking for permission to open Kacchan’s shirt by kissing all along its collar and shoulder. With his free hand, he also grabs Izuku’s other leg, the one closer to him, and pets his inner thigh. Another whiny mewl escapes his throat, every touch becoming too much for his lightened body.

 He’s never been more turned on in his entire life, and he prays that he can hold it all together long enough to enjoy the experience for the longest time possible, though he already feels like melting, pleasure sparkling across every nerve of his body.

 Kacchan gulps and licks his lips, before nodding at both questions, the spoken and the unspoken one.

 Once the offending shirt is off and exiled in the floor, revealing expanses of delectable, golden skin over taut muscle, future-Izuku lavish it with attentive kisses, the broad shoulders, the powerful neck, the delicate carved collarbones, the enviable pecs, the dusty nipples (those one makes Kacchan release a groan that Izuku feels he can get high of, god, he wants to taste him himself). Only when he’s mapped all the skin at his scope, he returns to Kacchan’s mouth, letting himself be kissed with all the hungriness the pent-up blonde desires.

“Do you want me to blow you while you watch them?”, the older Izuku offers with sinful, cherry-red lips and an enthusiasm in his eyes that doesn’t belong to a bedroom where a foursome is taking place. What certainly belongs it’s the impish, featherlike patterns that he traces with his fingertips over the other’s trapped boner.

 Kacchan hisses, grabbing the hand and pressing it down, the teasing not creating enough pressure for his liking. He smirks wildly, confidence pouring out of him, and let Izuku say, turned on, self-assured Kacchan is unfairly attractive.

“Fuck yes. Bring down there that pretty mouth of yours.”

 While they rearrange themselves in a more comfortable position for the blowjob (and Izuku is a little bit jealous, he admits, he’s been waiting to suck Kacchan off a long, long time, it is one of his top five fantasies), the other blonde reclaims his attention by tugging at his dick a little harder than before. Izuku yelps, the sound mangled by the appendage still nested in his mouth. When he raises his shining bright green eyes at him, he finds him smirking too, a tad wicker.

“I can make you feel good too, Izuku”, and, boy, doesn’t his given name come close to that ‘baby boy’ nickname in making him a puddle of pleasure, how can his future counterpart even function daily with Kacchan pronouncing his name like that? He’s about to answer that he already feels good, he feels more than good, he feels superb, splendid, never better, maybe a little bit stoned, definitely a five-star handjob, when the fingers turning his dick into hot jelly move forward, delving into his underwear, around his balls. The meaning of future-Kacchan’s words strikes Izuku down with the force of a bulldozer as he feels a callous, warm pad swirling around the rim of his butthole. For a few seconds he can’t coax oxygen into his lungs, drool slipping down his chin when the thumb in his mouth starts to move, dragging lazily over his tongue, over his teeth, over his gums and the slippery insides of his cheeks. A peek, a taste of what he’s offering, “Are you gonna let me play with your pretty ass, mmm?”

 Izuku nods with so much vigor that he gets dizzy.

“God, I’d forgotten how fucking cute you were at this age”, he licks the younger’s lips, mixing his own saliva with the spit that drenches his chin before withdrawing the finger, now pruned by the moisture, bit by bit, tugging down the plump, lush bottom lip until it bounces back with a wet sound, “I want to destroy you.”

 And Izuku wants it, wants to be destroyed oh, so badly.

 That raw, blazing need is what makes him end up on his knees on the mattress, hips up in the air, face smashed in the pillow and completely naked. Self-consciousness at the vulnerable position and his bareness try to creep inside his chest, but he fights internally to hush it out. The way Kacchan keeps throwing him sideway glances, red eyes burning in its path along the curve of his arched back and his bared butt helps with that, but on the other hand, fuels the desire that blazes in his lower abdomen and between his legs, making his hard dick twitch.

“So lucky, little me, you’re gonna love what Kacchan’s going to do to you”, comments future-Izuku from in between the other’s Kacchan legs, nodding approvingly while he pumps his lose fist up and down Kacchan’s length (Izuku bites his lips to avoid start muttering, his brain comparing the reality of Kacchan’s dick at its full glory and all the theories and fantasies that he has made thorough the years… yep, the real deal, veiny, red, pulsing, big, is much more better). The blonde grits his teeth, propelled against the headboard, seeming so strung out already even when the proper blowjob hasn’t started yet. His left hand is death-gripping the sheets near Izuku’s pillow, so close that he could easily release the fabric and fist it in Izuku’s hair if he wanted.

“Don’t worry, you’re almost as good as I am in this at sucking cock”.

 Future-Izuku pouts, not satisfied with the compliment of his sucking abilities.

“I’m the best at sucking cock”, he corrects it, ratifying his statement by dipping down and taking half that considerable girth into his mouth and throat.

“Ho-holy fucking s-shit!”

 Future-Kacchan smirks devilishly, smacking his husband’s butt after accusing him of being a show-off, which prompts at the same a roll eye that says seriously?-hello-pot-I’m-kettle, and content purr around the dick in his mouth, that in turn makes Kacchan swear loudly again.

 Izuku senses the older blonde move out of bed, searching under the bed for something, but he’s too enthralled to pay attention of his whereabouts watching himself swallow down Kacchan’s cock, lips stretched around it in a perfect, tight ‘O’, head bobbing up and down with a steady rhythm, reaching a bit further every time, a frown of concentration on his flustered face. It’s hypnotic, and he can’t wait to learn to do that.

 So deep he is with the scene that, when he feels fingers touching the small of his back, he jumps and almost smashes his head against the headboard, caught out of ward.

“Shh, it’s me”, of course, who will it be otherwise? Future-Kacchan chuckles, surely amused by the pouty, flustered face Izuku is half-hiding in the pillow. The hand lovingly strokes his spine, fondling the muscles of his lower back and waist, coaxing it to relax and loose some of their nervous rigidity. It works until he hears the telling pop of a bottle opening.

 Now, he’s thrilled by the possibility of Kacchan fingering him, he wouldn’t have been so enthusiastic in his agreement when the offer arose otherwise. And it’s not like he have never had anything up his ass before, after all, almost every time he masturbates he ends up with at least one of his own fingers there, loving the way it stretched, it burned, it filled him, how its presence felt around his sensitive insides.

 However, it seems a little bit scarier than a mere handjob (fantastic as it was), letting someone touch him there, even if he’s also dying for it. That’s why, when a gentle hand spreads his buttcheeks, allowing something wet yet warm touch the rim of his hole, his body clamps down, weak knees shaking and knuckles whitening in their clutch on the pillow.

“S-sorry, sorry, I’m j-just a little bit n-nervous”, the mumbled apology is nearly swallowed by the cloth, cheeks aflame for another entirely different reason than arousal.

 Future-Kacchan leans down, pressing his sculptured chest against Izuku’s back, the bare contact of skin-on-skin delightfully scalding, and Izuku was right, his built bulk engulfs his whole tiny body, the size difference weighting down on him like a heavy, cozy blanket.

“It’s okay, baby boy. I promise I’ll be gentle with you, and if you want to stop at any moment, just tell me, all right?”, the tone is oh, so sweet, Izuku has never guessed that Kacchan’s voice could sound like that. Equally sweet kisses drop all over his shoulders, between his shoulder blades, in his nape and in the sensitive spot under his ear. The fingers exposing him fondle with the buttcheek with care, thumb tracing its generous curve, while the free hand pets his navel, his side, the edge of his ribs, his rosy nipples, so feather-like that it tickles, “Just watch them and stop worrying that little, beautiful head of yours. Okay, pretty boy?”

 Izuku nods again, the encouraging words and tender touches dissipating a lot of his anxiety.

 The next time the finger pads his entrance, he takes a deep breath, air shakily filling his lungs, and commands his muscles to relax. The lube is warm where it touches him, and the soft pressure that the finger applies when it circles his sensitive hole makes his toes tingle.

 A whiny whimper vibrates in his vocal cords when the appendage (thicker, longer, warmer than Izuku’s, god, it feels so good) finally breaks the resistance, dipping in Izuku, snail-paced but unyielding, forward, backwards, then deeper, deeper, until all its length is nested inside, knuckles grazing the delicate skin around the hole.

 Izuku doesn’t realize that he closed his eyes until his eyelids flutter open again. His glassy eyes find the twinkling gaze of his counterpart. How he is able to grin with a dick stretching his lips open wide is beyond Izuku, but he does; then, without breaking eye contact, he bobs his head up, slow, the sucking sounds he makes wet and obscene. Watching those same lips slide over the angry red and engorged member, revealing inch by inch its spit covered surface, rips a moan out of both the younger pair.

 At the same time the slippery finger inside Izuku starts to move, prodding the heated, silky walls of his channel, future-Izuku releases the cock on his mouth with a slick sound. He licks his rosy, swollen lips, glistening with spit and pre-cum, before poking his tongue out and flattening it against the red head of Kacchan’s dick, smearing all over the meaty muscle the pearly fluid sprouting off its slit. When he starts lapping at it like an overjoyed kitten, Kacchan loses another piece of his already barely held composure, a litany of curses falling between his clenched teeth while his hips shudder and his fingers tangle tightly in future-Izuku’s curled bangs after smothering them back of his forehead to have an unobstructed view of the way he nuzzles and sucks and licks at his cock as if it was his favorite lollipop.

 Before Izuku can fully admire the pink blush that covers his friend’s face and chest, or how his breath hitches and a bead of sweat trails down his temple when he’s denied any movement of his hips, his doppelganger firm grip on his pelvis not allowing him to fuck into that very capable mouth, it’s his turn to moan and squirm as a sudden, powerful jolt of pleasure shakes all his bones and muscles, frying momentarily his already overheated brain cells and siphoning all the air out of his lungs.

“Gotcha”, announces future-Kacchan with, surely, a very smug, attractive smirk, before pressing the callous pad of his finger again over that bundle of nerves that makes Izuku’s ass feel like it is liquefying. His spine arches involuntary, demanding for more, more!, and his eyes roll back his head. He has to clutch the pillow harder to refrain himself of touching his aching, oozing dick, and his patience is rewarded when another lubed finger toys with his pink-rimmed hole before joining his partner inside.

 Izuku loses the battle of keeping his mouth shut, panting against the pillow, that is getting wet with the drool that escapes his parted lips. But those fingers feel so wonderful, they stretch him so good, ramming into his butt with a renewed rhythm, faster but precise, lighting his whole body in a way he’s never experienced or even imagined before. He doubts there is a better sensation.

 But Izuku is proven wrong, terribly, delightfully wrong when the fingers scissoring him retract until only the first knuckles are in, spreading to make space to something else, something red-hot and damp, something that trails his already oversensitive rim before wriggling inside a bit.

“W-whah! Wha-what was t-that!?”, Izuku basically shrills when he recovers some of his superior functions, fuzzy head peeking over his shoulder.

 Future-Kacchan has a smirk twisting his lips that would make the devil’s cower in shame, and he holds eye contact, blood red darkening his irises, while he casually pumps the tips of his fingers in and out the younger's body before speaking, using his free hand to press down on the small of Izuku’s back, making his spine bow even more, leaving his butt more exposed and accessible.

“You don’t expect me to be in front of a five-course meal like your ass, with your pretty, greedy little hole winking at me so cheekily, and not eating it out, right?” and without a further explanation dips his head down and licks another stripe of scalding saliva over his spread rim before nipping it lightly with his teeth.

 “F-fu-uuuck”, Izuku cries at the ministrations. How can those fingers and mouth feel like torture and yet he still wishes they never stop? He thinks all his muscles are trembling, warmth tightly coiled in his belly, insides all mushy. The sweat on his skin does little to alleviate the fever that seems to consume him whole, strands of damp hair glued at his damper forehead, and his chest has lost any sense of rhythm, content with gulp oxygen in shaky, hitched breaths mixed with the most lewd and obscene sounds he’s ever produced.

 Izuku can’t control his vocal cords nor his facial musculature anymore, his jaw slacked, drool running down the corner of his mouth and cheek at the same incessant pace that his dick is dripping pre-cum all over the sheets below, tongue lolling out a little bit and half-lidded eyes unfocused. What an image must he be making of himself, going absolutely crazy by the finger stroking relentlessly his insides and the searing mouth that sucks, bites, licks and fucks into his willing butthole.  

 With the last ounce of self-consciousness he can find within himself, Izuku turns his face into the soaked pillow, biting it down, in an attempt to bury his uncontrollable expressions and muffle some of the sounds that are being ripped out his constricted throat.

“Don’t”, the command barely registers in Izuku’s drown in pleasure brain, but he senses the hand that grabs his hair and tugs, forcing him to resume his previous position, displaying his flustered face.  Between the narrow slit his heavy eyelids allow, he follows the hand to his owner. Kacchan is staring at him with a stern frown that contrast with the wild, feral glint of his eyes. His own face is red, glistening with sweat, hair a messy, damp nest of golden spikes. He almost snarls, voice deep and hoarse, dangerous, “Don’t fucking hide. I want to see and hear you, those faces and sounds are mine, you don’t get to keep them of me, understood?”

 The grip on his curls tightens, scalp tingling with something near to pain, and Izuku knows the rough handling shouldn’t feel this good, but, good lord, it does, it fucking does.

 So he moans louder, opens his mouth wider, and then recollects the little strength his wobbly limbs have and raises on his hands. On four over the mattress, fingers and mouth still attached at his butt but slowing a bit, curious about what’s going to happen, Izuku smashes his lips against Kacchan’s.

 Understood, the messy kiss says, desire and raw feelings pouring between their mouths, in the clumsy strokes of their tongues and in the breath they share, understood, I’m yours, I’m yours, forever, take me, take all of me, because it’s yours, it’s always been yours.

 Kacchan recognizes the unspoken words, hungry crimson darkening his irises, and at this distance Izuku notes the maroon speckles that circle his pupils. The grip on his hair loosens, but the hand doesn’t go too far, firmly grabbing his jaw, angling it to devour his mouth as he pleases.

 Lost in the kiss, neither of them see the complicit look their future versions share over their forms, nor notice how they slightly adjust their positions, powerful bodies ready to pounce and bring them over the sharp edge of pleasure they’ve been dancing on.

 While future-Kacchan’s fingers have been grazing Izuku’s prostate, the touches have been spaced, little, intense tsunamis over the otherwise calm ocean of overflowing, relentless pleasure. Without warning, the tsunamis become the norm when the ruthless pad of the index and middle fingers basically start assaulting the sensitive spot. Izuku’s hips jolts, unable to decide if they want to shove themselves back into the punishing fingering and the tongue that laps and sucks at his overstimulated, puffy rim, or flee forward, escaping the abuse that shakes so deliciously his entire self. Luckily or not, the decision ends up being taken for him, future-Kacchan’s massive, strong arm circling his thighs, forearm brushing his throbbing dick, locking his posture and not letting him move an inch.

 The total opposite does future-Izuku; he lowers his body a bit, chest heaving with the lungful of air he takes before going down on Kacchan’s cock, down, down, swallowing him whole, nose pressed against his light pubes, throat obscenely bulging over the girth it hosts. He braces his arms and neck, and then, lets go the hips he was holding. The moment he’s free to move, Kacchan pistons his pelvis into the willing mouth that envelops him, fast, shaky thrusts that face-fuck the hot, wet channel ready just for him.

 They can’t kiss any longer, rendered useless by the bolt of blazing pleasure that soars through every single one of their nerve endings, but content with just letting their lips touch, sharing open mouthed groans and moans.

 Izuku will assure, without fear of being mistaken, that he has the most mind-blowing orgasm he’s ever experienced. But that will be when he regains any superior functions, because when he does come, the fire that has been raging in his belly ignites him whole, making him explode at the seams and become something incapable of coherent thought.

 When he comes back from that marvelous cloud he’s been launched to via his butt, Izuku finds himself sprawled on the mattress, his knees and arms no longer supporting him. His face is smashed against the hard planes of a gasping chest, neck craning in an awkward position that he’s going to regret in a few hours, and he’s not sure he can fully feel his toes.

“Wow”, it’s the only word he can articulate, and his new pillow shakes with the force of a snort. Izuku looks up, catching the red gaze of a very satisfied Kacchan. When did he come?, shit, did Izuku pass out when he orgasmed?

“I think you did”, responds his future counterpart in a hoarse voice, vocal cords resenting the deepthroathing, as he scopes with his crooked fingers the few drops of cum that have escaped his mouth and paint his chin, seating back on his haunches. Woah, Izuku knows he’s prone to mumble, but his brain-to-mouth filter seems to be in worst condition than ever, has it been fucked out of him? A round of chuckles tells him that he’s said that aloud too.

 Embarrassed, Izuku nuzzles the chest he’s pressing his face into, and it’s very nicely surprised when Kacchan starts petting his hair, curling his fingers around the strands and playing with them.

 He feels in heaven, a little sticky where he’s laying on his own fluids and his skin cooling due the sweat that covers it, but in heaven nevertheless.

 Who could have thought, when he woke up this morning, that he would end up curled in Kacchan’s chest, in bed with the future version of themselves? Not him, for sure, but he regrets nothing.

“Aw, look at little us, we’re so cute, Kacchan!”, coos said future version, trying to be discreet covering his grin behind his hand.

 His husband rolls his eyes where he has laid down on top Izuku’s legs, and then playfully kicks him in the side, sending the other man sprawling over the edge of the bed. The squealing cry and curt thump his body makes when he collides with the floor is followed by a raucous laugh.

“Don’t you get tired of being an asshole?”, future-Izuku sighs, more resigned than irritated, climbing back into the bed but keeping himself out of the range of future-Kacchan’s leg.

“As they say, you are what you eat”, the cheeky grin the blonde sports makes his aged face look boyish and even more handsome, red eyes sparkling with mischief. And, how can Izuku not fall in love with him, please, do tell?

 Despite wanting to appear upset, future-Izuku can’t help the ugly snort that gives away a fit of giggles at the response.

 Being the bed reduced in its span, the attempts to stay away of the blonde’s leg are fruitless, but this time, the leg doesn’t kick Izuku’s future version out of bed. Instead, the foot pads his bare thigh, toes wriggling under the hem of the red underwear.

“What do you want now?”

“Eating out your tiny-you and watching you deepthroat brat-me has turned me on. Ride me again.”

 Future-Izuku pouts, half-heartily batting the foot that tries to fondle his crotch under the boxers.

“I’m not going to ride you, I rode you earlier.”

“But you love riding me, and you look so sexy doing it.”

“I love it but it’s tiring! I’m tired, my legs are tired. I’m not gonna ride you. You, you fuck me in missionary. It’s my turn to lay down and do nothing but look pretty.”

“You always look fucking pretty, nerd. But you’re the prettiest when you ride me.”

“Oh, my fucking god, we bicker like a goddamn old married couple, it’s disgusting”, grumbles Kacchan in a voice low enough that only Izuku hears him. He tilts his head up, a grin curving his mouth. The blonde is scowling, frown scrunching his golden eyebrows, but there is an uncovered fondness there. When he looks down to meet Izuku’s gaze, he even smiles a little, not with his mouth, but with his eyes.

“I like it”, confess Izuku, leaning back his head against Kacchan’s chest, loosely hugging his waist. Like this, he can feel his steady heartbeat directly under his ear.

“Of course you do, you’re a shitty dork”, he tugs at one of his curls, making Izuku squeal, but then in return massages the scalp with tender fingers.

 You’ll marry this shitty dork, he thinks, grin growing on his face, happiness bubbling in his chest and belly. Izuku doesn’t say, though, his train of though derailing to other whereabouts.

“Do you want me to?”, he asks, smoothing his voice, looking at their counterparts, that are still bickering.

“To what?”

“To ride you”, Kacchan chokes on his own spit, but tries to cover it by coughing discreetly in his free hand. The blush creeping up his ears betrays him.


“Yes”, all the petting, the proximity with a shirtless Kacchan and the talk about sex his adult versions are having is igniting again the flame at the base of Izuku’s abdomen. It’s not scalding as the want and desire earlier, but softer, a little less destructive, like embers. To make his point harder to refuse, he presses his pelvis against Kacchan’s hip, his already half-boner touching his wam skin. Izuku looks at him through his eyelashes, his lopsided smile close to a smirk, “What, you’re chickening now?”

 Having his own challenging words from before thrown back at him defuses any type of objection Kacchan could have, and he bares his white teeth in a wild grin, the fingers on Izuku’s hair tightening and making his head tilt backwards, exposing the curve of his neck.

 Without verbally answering the challenge and without letting Izuku’s curls go, he whistles, drawing the attention of their doppelgangers.

“Oi, dumbasses. If you’re not gonna fuck, get your asses out of the bed, because we are. Where is the shitty lube?”

 The adults look at them, partially disoriented by the question.


 Izuku, with a great amount of regret, sits up, his clammy skin uncomfortably peeling off Kacchan’s where they were sticked together.

“I’m going to ride him”, he announces, stern, with the same conviction he normally says that he’s going to become the greatest hero. When he meets the flabbergasted eyes of his counterpart, he recoils a little, sheepishness bleeding into his features, “I… when we watched you d-do it earlier, it seemed quite cool. I-I want to t-try.”

 Future-Izuku waggles his hands in front of him, big eyes narrowing a bit under the weight of the firm frown that bends his eyebrows.

“Okay, wait a minute, you’re not going to ride anyone, young man.”

 Now he looks again just like Izuku’s mom, and nope, nope!, a bed where he’s naked with three other nearly naked men is not the right place to think about his mother!

“Why not?”, Izuku definitely does not sulk.

 The adult sighs while his husband snickers behind scenes, amused by the tussle. Kacchan doesn’t try to intervene neither, the coward.

“It’s not as easy as it looks, okay? You’re a virgin and, d-don’t look at me like that, please!”, he partially covers his face with his right hand, blocking the betrayed puppy look Izuku is throwing his way, “Listen, the first time I rode this doofus, I… I almost broke his dick, and we’d been having sex a couple of months.”

 Now, that gets a reaction out of Kacchan.

“You broke my fucking dick?!”

“I almost broke your… his dick”, punctuates future-Izuku, bashfully scratching his blushing cheek, “I might or not might accidentally activated One for All in my… enthusiasm.”

“It hurt like a bitch though.”

  The comment makes Izuku’s future self shrink a little, his bared shoulders lifting up and almost touching his reddening ears.

“It was an accident, okay?, I’m sorry. B-but the point isn’t that!”

“Fucking fine, no riding”, Kacchan seems to appreciate the integrity of his dick, “But we can fuck anyway.”

“That’s… okay, let me think for a moment how we can do this.”

“We can try what we did when we had the threesome.”

 And, no, for real, what is Izuku’s life anymore?

“You… you already had a threesome?”, he ask, baffled, and after all the surprises the future holds regarding his undiscovered kinks and sexual encounters, he doesn’t feel like feeling (much) ashamed or asking himself why, just a morbid curiosity.

 The pair smirks, but is his doppelgänger who answers, mirth in the dimple of his cheek.

“Yep! It was one of my birthday present a few years ago; it fulfilled one of my fantasies of being sandwiched between two pro-heroes.”

 Izuku hums, tapping his index against his mouth, mulling over the possibilities.

“Was it Shouto or Kirishima?”

 Kacchan chokes at his side, sputtering that he will never ever do something “that fucking disgusting” with “the half-and-half bastard and shit-for-brains”.

 The question will remain unsolved until it’s their time to live it, because future-Kacchan presses his lips together, holding a smirk, and future-Izuku crawls over the bed a little to be able to tap with his finger his younger-self’s nose.

“I don’t kiss and tell, little-me. Now, if you two really want to fuck, get up and let me rearrange ourselves to minimize any possible unwanted damage, okay?”

 Giddiness and nervous excitement pour out Izuku, so he complies, following the precise instructions of his counterpart, who has a face of concentration more suited for a battlefield.

 But he’s efficient, because after some accidental kicks and elbows in zones they should never be, the four of them are again in a more or less comfortable position on the mattress.

 Kacchan finds himself again between Izuku’s spread legs, although this time he's no shy in touching, letting his warm palms wander all over the youngest’s calves, and knees, and plentiful thighs.

“You really have freckles everywhere”, he comments almost to himself while trailing with his thumb an especially dense constellation high on his left inner leg, close to where it meets the groin.

 Izuku visibly shudders, and he chews on his bottom lip, leaning backwards to find support in the firm chest of his future-self, who is on his knees behind him, allowing him to rest in the gap between his legs. They are all naked now, clothes and underwear disposed on the floor without much care, so Izuku can feel on the small of his back the damp tip of his other-self’s cock. He clutches at the meaty thigh that frames him, feeling his heart picking up speed at the close contact and the immediate future activities, mouth dry; but his fingers aren’t the first ones there, and they overlap with the hand future-Kacchan’s has possessively splayed there. The blonde is glued to his husband’s back, and Izuku can feel the slight movements of his hips through the body he’s pressed against, a lazy rocking that, by the color gradually increasing in future-Izuku’s cheeks and the glassines on of his eyes, is making his hardening member rub on the crevice of the other’s butt.

“I think this changes the ranks of how pretty you look, Izuku: number one, riding me, but close second, you and tiny-you sandwiched between both of me”, future-Kacchan murmurs with a husky tone that should be considered a capital sin, his lips brushing both Izukus’ ears, taking advantage of the younger one resting his head on the older’s shoulder. Twin shivers shake twin bodies.

“Who could have thought that you could look this hot, nerd?”, teases the other Kacchan, tonguing those very attractive sharp canines, looking at the men in front of him like a wolf looks at the rabbit before attacking, “I almost wish that I had know so I could have fucked you raw every time I pinned you down to the ground.”

“E-enough of the d-dirty talk”, the whiny sentence is a poor excuse of a complain, and future-Izuku knows, “Give me the lube.”

 Izuku stares with his face aflame how the little purple bottle appears in the hand of his counterpart, and with him having his arms around his torso in a loose hug he can see closely how he pours a generous amount of that thick, transparent gel into his crooked fingers, before redirecting them to his crotch.

“Oi, I stretched him good enough earlier”, the rasp voice of future-Kacchan, so near Izuku’s ear, doesn’t help at all in calming the thundering of his heart inside his chest or tempering the bolt of heat that jolts his body when those two fingers gently press into his still oversensitive entrance, finding zero resistance.

 Future-Izuku tsks under his breath, lovingly pressing his cheek into Izuku’s temple and hugging him closer to his chest with his free arm. Kacchan crawls a little on his knees, coming even closer, hands wandering no more, but finding purchase under Izuku’s knees, coaxing his legs to wrap around his trimmed waist. He chews his lips, gaze trained where the youngest’s being prepped to take him.

“You had never had your dick going up your ass the first times and it shows”, his breath is a little labored, probably being as turned on as Izuku feels watching the fingers he knows so well, yet, that doesn’t belong to him, being swallowed by his puffed, pink-rimmed hole, “You good, baby?”

 Izuku releases a long breath through his nose, changing his grasp to Kacchan’s perfect arms, fingers trying and failing to wrap around those magnificent biceps. The fingering makes his ass feel a little sore, bordering the almost too much; but they also feel good, more perfunctory than pleasurable than the previous one, but good, nonetheless. He hums low in his throat as an affirmative answer, turning his head a little to nuzzle in his future-self neck, nosing the underside of his jaw.

 When a third fingertip pokes his hole, Izuku sighs, arching his spine a little to let them go deeper, and that’s when he registers another slick sound being added at the currently one. Peering with half lowered eyelids over future-Izuku’s shoulder, he sees future-Kacchan’s right arm flexing while he sloppily fingers his Izuku too at the same rhythm, using the remaining lube from his previous intercourse and the cum inside.

“F-fuck”, Izuku can’t help but curse, whole body filled with warmth, heart swelling. Although it isn’t the only thing swelling, his dick hard and stiff again against his abdomen.

 It twitches painfully when out of sudden, Kacchan releases one of his legs and brings his hand down, sparing a brief glance at Izuku’s face, waiting for refusal, before scoping the lube collected between his butt cheeks and groin and pressing the fingertip of his index alongside the other three inside.

 All Izuku can do is moan with parted lips and dig his fingers in the meaty biceps he’s holding, head hazy with the sensation of his hole stretching so wide and so nice around two different sets of fingers.

 Hot again, so hot, he’s melting around the edges.

“O-Okay, o-o-ah!-okay”, he stutters with a voice an octave higher than normal after a minute, both hands shooting down between his legs to catch the pair of wrists and halt their delicious, devious motions, “enough, I’m r-ready, I-I-I’m ready, n-oh, n-no more or I’ll c-come again”.

 Izuku’s other self complies, slowly retracting his fingers, but Kacchan, with a cruel smirk, curls his finger, buried deep down in the warm, slick channel, and, probably by sheer luck and because the gods like to make Izuku suffer, founds his prostate.

“Kacchan!”, Izuku whimpers, forcing him to get out of him with a slight tremor on his limbs and a glare.

 The handsome bastard doesn’t have the decency of even looking a bit guilty, showing him his teeth in an ample and smug grin.

“Now, you put this, or it’s going to be a mess to clean”, a silver square appears between them, voice firm enough that there is no space for any protest.

“I’ll do it”, Izuku snatches the petite package, evergreen eyes filling with thirst for revenge. While he fights to tear the wrapping, a question pops out in his mind, “Where did you get all this? The lube and the c-condom?”, (c’mon, Izuku, after all you’ve been doing this afternoon, you stammer saying condom?), “I mean, you were throw here, at the past, in only your uniforms, and you didn’t leave the school’s grounds and they… they don’t sell this type of things here.”

 An ominous silence floats among them for a few, long seconds, and the future-Izuku clears his throat.

“When you’ve been in a relationship for six years, you learn to be prepared for anything that can happen in your line of work.”

 Future-Kacchan doesn’t seem satisfied with the explanation.

“The nickname ‘bunny’ is not because Deku’s stupid costume and fighting style resemble a bunny but because he has the sex-drive of a fucking rabbit in heat and you never know when he will ask you to bend him over the closest surface and fuck him raw. So, after the first incidents, we carry a bottle of lube and condoms in one of our uniform pockets.”

“Oh, my god”, the condom goes flying when Izuku tears the wrapping with a jolt, embarrassed by the words although he isn’t that lewd, perverted version of himself yet (although he was the one accidentally suggesting and then agreeing with this foursome, so he guesses he’s already showing a tendency…).

“Kacchan, you make me look like I’m horny all the time and unprofessional”, the reprimand his strained and Izuku can feel the warmth exuding from his doppelganger’s cheeks.

 Future-Kacchan kisses the warming skin sweetly.

“You have never been unprofessional in your entire life, but, bunny, you’re horny most of the time. And I fucking love it”, to make the message clearer, he shoves his hips forward, rubbing his fully erect cock between his husband’s asscheeks, probably catching the rim with the head by the shaky gasp that leaves future-Izuku’s lips, “Now, you ready or what? We don’t have all the fucking day.”

“Yes, yes, sorry!”

 Izuku doesn’t consider himself a very resentful or mean person. But he finds himself experimenting quite a non-sexual pleasure watching Kacchan twitch, and squirm, and swear and sweat, red in the face, when he takes hold of his cock and jacks him off. Slowly but not too slowly, fist tight but not enough tight, pads playing with the bulging veins all along the member, and then toying with the ring of silicone against the sensitive, red gland. The murderous glare that the blonde pins him with, pupils blown inside the crimson, only makes the revenge more satisfying.

 But Izuku is on edge too, and he really, really, really wants to get fucked, so more sooner than Kacchan deserves because he was really mean, he finishes putting on the condom and spreading a plentiful amount of lube all over the length.

 “Ready?”, asks future-Izuku. All of them nod and he directs to Kacchan to come closer and guide the tip of his cock until it’s almost kissing the other’s rim. Grabbing one of Izuku’s legs and bending it until the knee is touching his own shoulder, exposing even more his vulnerable, slightly gaping butthole, he keeps instructing between tiny, excited gasps, “Slow, okay?, go slowly, yeah, l-like that, just like th-ah!”

 When the engorged head of Kacchan’s dick breaches the first ring of his muscles, at unison with the other Kacchan, Izuku feels like crying.

 Not because it feels fantastic even if it hurts a little bit too, or because how hot and overwhelming is it being surrounded totally by the warm, sweaty bodies of two Kacchans and himself. Neither because of the guttural groans that the two blondes release at the same time, the intense pleasure of having their dicks wrapped by a snug, burning, slick grip, or the syrupy flames that lick Izuku’s insides, filling him with a warmth he can’t even describe and making breathing difficult.

 It’s because, while slowly, gently penetrating him, Kacchan leans down and touches their foreheads, keeping his beautiful, ruby-like eyes fixed on Izuku’s, totally bared and unmasked, no more fear, no more doubts, and he can see what will become love shining deep inside them.

 Izuku’s lips wobble and tremble but he kisses his Kacchan, the love of his life, the man he has always wanted to have at his side anyways, cradling his jaw with all the tenderness and affection he holds into his heart.

The contact only breaks when Kacchan bottoms inside of him, buried deep and far as he can go, Izuku’s bubble butt flattened against his pelvis and hips, and he lets his head fall into the smaller man’s chest, overwhelmed.

“F-fuck, so t-tight, D-Deku”, the grumble tickles where the air collides against Izuku’s collarbone, and he cards his own quivering fingers through the spikes of blond when he notes the tremors that shake Kacchan’s taut body during those one or two minutes that he holds himself off.

“You-you feel s-so good, Kacchan.”

“Can I… Can I move?”

 Izuku considers, wriggling his hips. He thinks his body has already accommodated to the considerable girth splitting his ass.


 With a last parting kiss, Kacchan raises on his haunches, clasps his waist and starts fucking him with small but shallow thrusts that bit by bit turn longer, deeper, faster.

 When, for the first time, the head of Kacchan’s cock grazes Izuku’s prostate, he mewls, back arching and hips canting to welcome the pounding, leg tightening his grasp around Kacchan’s waist, uplifting his body until there is not part of him that touches the mattress, leaving him suspended by the hands on his waist and leg, and the arm hugging his chest.

 The warm, faltering gasps of his counterpart, who is enjoying his own hammering, damp his neck. Turning his face to the side, Izuku guides one of his hands until he can grab a handful of those evergreen curls, and his doppelganger let himself be led until both their mouths meet in a heated kiss, tongues wrapping around each other between plump, red lips.  

 The action only turns on more the blondes, who, in sync, reward the spectacle by increasing the depth and precision of his thrusts, making the smaller men in the middle shake with the force of them.

“Now you two, Kacchans”, Izuku’s demand is slurred, proper pronunciation unachievable with the way his tongue and lips tingle after the make out and the mush his brain has turn into.  

“We can’t… we can’t be the only ones making… this selfcest thing, c’mon”, future-Izuku peers over his shoulder, careful of not dislodging the fingers that tangle in his hair.

 The alluded doubt a few seconds, but two pouty, puppy-eyed, flustered Izukus are way too powerful to be defeated or denied.

“Fucking fine, perverts”, it’s the younger Kacchan who takes the initiative, hips slowing until they are only grinding against Izuku’s ass (and isn’t that so delicious too, the constant pressure on that magical bundle of nerves inside of him making feel like he’s losing his mind). He leans forward, grabbing his future-self by the nape and smashing their mouth together.

 As could not have been otherwise, the kiss is aggressive, with far too many teeth, a battle for dominance that neither of them wants to lose.

 It’s so fucking sexy.

“Happy?”, grunt both when they part.

“Very”, dreamily answer at the same time both Izukus.

 After that, it doesn’t take long for the climax to come. The four of them trade kisses and touches, gasps and moans, squished together and reticent to reach the end of the affair.

 But the heat, the pleasure, the building pressure can only go that high until it overflows, ripping apart the seams.

 Izuku is the first to topple over his edge, incapable of holding a second longer when the other three viciously, delightfully team up against him: Kacchan fucks his ass raw, powerful thrusts that drill his insides and abuse his prostate; the scarred, clammy hand of his future-self pumps his throbbing dick, rapid, tight motions, twisting his wrist just like he loves and digging his bitten nail into the drooling slit, while the deft fingers of the other blonde twist and pinch and pull and rub at the pink nubs of his nipples.

 It’s too much, too much, he is drowning in pleasure waves of warmth and electricity, so he lets it all go. He chokes on his own moan, tears that the didn’t even feel forming falling down his cheeks, coming so hard that the white, sticky stripes of cum spurting from pulsing dick not only hit his chest but his chin too.

 Boneless and high on endorphins, this time he obliges his eyes to at least stay a bit opened and his consciousness to remain in his body before flying off the window, just long enough to watch Kacchan orgasm.

 Luckily, it isn’t a long battle, because when, in his climax, Izuku clenches down around the cock inside of him, Kacchan groans, only managing a few more shaky thrusts before he’s coming too, scalding hot even through the condom, his whole body tensing and his hips spamming. Still milking him until he’s spent, Izuku welcomes him in his arms when he collapses with a sigh, and, oh, so adorably, nuzzles his neck.

 Izuku represses the giggles, admiring the slack and relaxed face of his longest friend, so handsome and beautiful, without a trace of that patented angry scowl of his.

 Sated and happy, so, so happy, he firstly notes that his doppelganger isn’t holding his leg up anymore, instead burying his face in the other side of Izuku’s neck, heavy pants and tiny moans ripped out his chest. Knuckles graze Izuku’s back, and when he realizes that it’s future-Kacchan’s hand, jerking off the other, he presses back, helping by creating more friction where the wet tip of future-Izuku’s dick is rubbing against his skin.

“C’mon, come for me, Izuku”, the whispered command, husky and intimate, works like a charm, and Izuku can’t even mind all the cum that splashes on his back when his counterpart melts and sobs and shudders in his well-deserved orgasm.

 But future-Kacchan isn’t the only one with power over words, because the moment his husband regains control over his vocal cords and sighs an adoring, so full of love “Katsuki…”, he’s immediately following, the whole bed frame shaking with the force of that last thrust.

 A little after that, when they all have at least recovered some superior thinking, they rearrange themselves for the nth time, until the pile of sweaty limbs is a pile of sweaty but more or less comfortable limbs.

 They must make a very comically image, four grown adults squished together in a bed that it isn’t barely ready to host more than two people, each one of them disheveled, debauched but satisfied. They manage.

“You have cum on your chin, little-me”, points future-Izuku, turning his younger version’s face, who is laying practically on top of him.

“I have cum in a lot of places, I’m covered in it”, a resigned sigh, thought he regrets nothing.

“As if you didn’t love it”, eyes shining with mirth, he tilts Izuku’s chin up and laps at the patch of dried cum, sucking until the freckled skin is clean again.

“Please, stop, my dick hurts, it can’t get up again so soon”, complains with a grumble Kacchan, who loosely hugs Izuku’s waist, sprawled on his side at one end of the bed. He glares at both pair of the green eyes, one feigning innocence and the other sheepishly enjoying his new discovered power over his friend-slash-future-lover, “Don’t you have some fucking shame.”

 “Start getting used to it, pal”, the warning comes from the other side of the bed, where future-Kacchan is plastered to his husband back, elbow reclining in the pillow, with his face resting on his extended palm.

“You’re mean, stop slutshamming me.”

 Izuku chuckles, giddy, reaching until he’s stroking his counterpart’s jaw and cheek, half hidden on his neck.

“I don’t know…”, he starts, tracing with the pad of his thumb the jagged line of the scar that cuts down his face. Future-Izuku’s tenses a fraction, and Izuku makes sure that their eyes connect and the honesty of his words is crystal clear in the curve of his lips, and in the white glint of his teeth when he smiles so big that his face splits in two, “I think I’m very proud of the man I’m going to become.”

 His adult-version squeals and then goes hiding again, burying his face in the gap between Izuku’s neck and shoulder and the pillow.

 Half a minute passes in silence, until future-Kacchan pokes at his husband on the side. When it doesn’t cause a reaction, he sits up a little, staring at the curled figure of Izuku’s doppelganger. Recognition flashes through his features.

“Oh, my god, are you crying?”

“Yes!”, wails future-Izuku against the pillow, hugging his younger-self to his chest, “Thank you so much, little-me, your words mean so much to me.”

 Izuku feels like panicking a bit in the hold, not knowing how to proceed.

“So not only you stay short, but you stay a crybaby…”, totally insensitively comments Kacchan, winning himself a kick in the shin.

“Shush, shush, you big baby”, future-Kacchan collects his pitiful crying husband in his arms, peeling Izuku from his clutches. He rocks them a little, kissing his cheeks and wiping the big, sparkling tears that flow from his eyes, “God, why did I marry you?”

“Because you love me?”, the waterfalls stop, but the pout remains.

“Yeah, I guess. And because your fat ass.”

“Who is being the lewd one now!”

 Any more protest is drowned by a kiss, future-Kacchan probably knowing that kissing his mouth stupid is a good way to shut up Izuku.

 Watching them, the way they bicker, they tease and push each other, challenging themselves to grow, to go further, together, all with a love so obvious and solid in their eyes, in their kisses, in their touches and complicity, makes Izuku’s heart soar.

 However, he can’t help the wave of sadness that crashes into his thoughts. Because tomorrow, tomorrow he will forget it, he will forget everything about this afternoon. And yeah, he’ll miss the memories of the best sex he’s ever had, but he’ll miss more knowing that all the heartache that he has been enduring, that the yearning, that the fear of not being the one, of not being enough, will be for something. He'll miss knowing that Kacchan is capable of loving him the same way he loves him.

 Tomorrow he will be again afraid of hoping, of not knowing that his love will be reciprocated, and it breaks his heart.

“Hey”, gentle fingers hold his trembling chin and make his head turn.

 The vision his eyes come upon takes his breath away. The sun coming from the window makes Kacchan look… golden, naked skin golden, golden spikes of hair glowing on the white pillow, his eyebrows, his eyelashes, everything except his eyes, those shine a rich red, as gemstones. He’s a masterpiece, razor-sharp at the edges, a little bit burned, but a masterpiece, nonetheless.

 He doesn’t say anything when Izuku keeps gawking at him with, surely, a dumb face, just… stares him back, his gaze feeling tender, like a caress. Caress that materializes when he moves the hand holding his chin to cup his face, and lets his thumb wander, first swiping a rogue tear, then following the bridge of his nose, the dip of his upper lip, the cluster of freckles right under his eye and the single one on his eyelid. Kacchan seems to consider something, breath coming in shorts puffs of air. Izuku is frozen, not daring to move an inch, bewitched with the loving touch.

 Having taken a decision, lastly, Kacchan's finger delicately parts the curls sticking to his forehead, and then he moves across the pillow, closing the barely there distance between their faces and presses his lips against it. The kiss is so tender, so sweet, so similar to the one his future-selves shared, to the one Izuku longed for, so full of emotion, that Izuku’s heart swell and swell and swell, filling his whole chest, warming his very soul.

“Wait for me, okay?”, Kacchan whispers, with a vulnerability in his voice that makes him frail and that he only confides Izuku with.

 And, with that, Izuku knows, that it doesn't matter that tomorrow he's going to forget everything, forget this, because it will, eventually, come back, new memories painting themselves on his brain and heart when his turn to live them arrives. Everything is going to be alright, and it will be worth it, oh, so worth it.

 So he smiles, wide, so wide, with tears in his eyes because he’s a crybaby and he’s happy, nuzzling in the chest of the one who will be the love of his life.

“Always, Kacchan.”