MHA smut

Edges Aligned

CRACK. POP. SIZZLE.

"Kyaaa!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But certainly not the Kacchan he knows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A test?"

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

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

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

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