Chapter Text
In powerful bodies and rough veins, Izuku clung to his husband’s frame for dear life, confident in his ability to hold them both upright. His nails dug in deep- not that Katsuki cared. His suit covered it all. Only Kirishima in the changing rooms had ever been blessed with the opportunity to wolf whistle and be privy to the scratches' origins.
Izuku cried, a beautiful sound, which flicked a switch in Katsuki to plough harder. Drive deeper. Twitching walls squeezed around his length. In the absence of heartfelt words, he ravaged his partner’s neck with love bites and swollen kisses, sucking until his cries morphed into guttural pleas. He was close. Close enough to touch the sun. And the scorching, fiery internal heat of their combined bodies sliding against one another woke a painful desperation deep in their abdomens. If he did not release now, the next round would be earth shattering.
Releasing his husband's neck, Katsuki grabbed the back of his head with a wide grip, nipping his reddened ear with his thumb and ring finger. Gripping hard, he buried his teeth into the bulge of Izuku’s throat, swollen because of his deafening screams, and bit down hard as an orgasm rocked through him.
Wishing the same release for his man, Katsuki gripped Izuku’s length and pumped him hard and fast, raising his head high enough to watch his lips part and his eyes become water. Not a breath later, Izuku had spilled over the space between them, panting. Breathless.
“Fucken beautiful, Sensei.” Katsuki mockingly gasped, taking hold of Izuku’s face and kissing him senseless. Izuku put up a limp fight, retreating to say, “stop calling me that. It's so not a bedroom name.”
Katsuki grinned. “You like it.”
Just then, a chill flooded over them. Disrupting the heat of the room, the bedroom door flung open, shattering on its hinges. Illuminated by the hallway lights stood their son, Kazue, his stance preparing for a nasty fight. His UA issued uniform hung loose at his hips, shrugging off his shoulders. That spiked blonde hair he styled like his dad was scorched on the peaks. Ash tumbled down his tight shoulders.
“Kazue, baby, are you ok? Did something happen at UA?” Instant regret overcame Izuku. It was his day off. Izuku had stayed home to nurse their sick daughter back to health. And now look, he was missing in action when his son clearly needed him. As he made a move to collect the sheets and leave the bed, his husband pushed him back. Izuku shook his head sternly, “Kacchan, not in the mood when my son is hurt.”
“It’s not Kaz.”
The words alone shook Izuku to his core. The only other option hung between them. A villain was inhabiting his son's form.
This version of their son had his arms, bare and strangely not ladened with training scars, outstretched wide, protecting his body. With elbows parallel to his knees, his stance warmed the bedroom with sparks that crackled and popped, a vehement glow emitting from his palms.
But it wasn’t their son at all.
He couldn’t have been older than sixteen. A horrific age for them. Having yet to gaze upon his country at war, the younger reflection of Katsuki seethed outrage with a heart that beat much fiercer than it did today.
"Kacchan," Izuku gasped, though none of the room's occupants knew who his horror was directed at. His fingers gripped the bulging shoulders of his husband, scrambling for the nearby lamp. He desperately needed to see the intruder's face, because either their son had snapped a cord, or a nasty quirk had cursed their family.
Lamplight illuminated the room. It defined the sharp twists and angles of a hero couple disturbed from intimacy, and the even sharper angles of a face neither of them had glimpsed in years. That was not their son. This was Katsuki Bakugo. Sixteen and in a place he sure as hell did not belong.
Katsuki threw the covers over his exposed husband and slipped off the bed in sweat pants alone. The younger image of himself charged up his sparking palms as the eldest Bakugo rose to full size. "You fucking try that, and I'll blow you to bits, bastard. I'm ten times stronger than you are."
"Who the fuck are you? If it's you, Knife Bitch, I'll make sure you don't live long enough to get my blood again." Ever so dramatic.
Katsuki bit back a shout, "I'm you, dumbass. No idea how you got here, but you're in the wrong time by the looks of it." He moved to block Izuku from view before continuing, "now, step the fuck outside so we can figure this out. There's others sleeping in the house."
"Who?" He asked.
"Out."
By the time he’d performed the excruciating task of calming himself down twice over, Katsuki had sat himself down across from his mirror image, only twenty two years younger. It dawned on him then, how volatile he was. How putrid of a brat he was to everyone he didn’t know was fighting in his corner all along.
Once they settled, Katsuki was the first to extend his hand. “What do you last remember?” he asked. Rolling his eyes, his younger self described a training ground not far from UA, having passed it on his way to an internship. At that, Katsuki bristled. “Best Jeanist.” For the love of All Might, had time gone so fast? The man was thinking of complete retirement nowadays. Despite the disruption, the teenager continued. He had been hit by kids playing on the grounds.
“One second some kids are screaming in my damn ears, and then..BAM-” He smacked his hands together in a loud clap “-I’m in a house with you- me..in bed..with him of all people. Are you sick?”
“No, but your daughter is. So keep your fucking voice down, she's asleep down the hall.” Their youngest, Izumi, needed to be kept the hell away from her teenage dad if Katsuki wanted to protect the image of her adoration for her father. If she laid eyes upon what he once was, Katsuki doubted that little lovebug would ever look at him the same.
Izuku emerged from their room fully clothed a moment later, fidgeting with his watch. He did everything in his power to avoid looking at this time capsule. So much had been fought for and won over the years, that the sight of what once was burned a hole in his chest. It burned with such an intensity that he had to be maneuvered down into the seat beside his husband, unable to burst their bubble in fear of setting off the familiar face.
Izuku turned to Katsuki. “School finishes in half an-” “What the fuck is he doing here? Get rid of him.”
“Too bad,” Katsuki countered, “he lives here. Because one day you finally fucking man up and put a ring on him.” This drew attention to the polished band around each of their fingers, and he saw the indents of years past that suggested it was sacredly worn, as Izuku twisted it in tandem with his obnoxiously thundering heart. A habit he had picked up since acquiring it. The weight, the sheen. Everything reminded them of what they had built, what they endured to get to where they were now. That the pair could get through anything.
Anything but this.
“I will head off. Kazue will want me to look over his support gear.” In a daze, Katsuki nodded his understanding. On instinct, he bowed his head when Izuku leant forward. A goodbye press of his lips. But nothing came. When he sat back up, he noticed the look of utter disdain on the identical face before him, and the sheer anxiety rattling the bones of the man he loved. Izuku moved away from the chair and turned his head. He took a pause. “Just...I won’t stay at the academy long.”
And with that, he was gone.