“Will you go ring shopping with me?”
Izuku has his chopsticks half way to his mouth, but the rice falls off when he pauses to blink over at Iida, mouth still very much open to reflect his absolute shock.
It’s just after lunch time and they’re in the break room at the hero agency where they both work, shovelling food into their mouths (or at least they were) to make up for all the energy they lost during a particularly gruelling shift this morning. There aren’t any other heroes around, since the lunch rush has passed. Izuku is so thankful for that.
Iida stares at him so intently, light from the windows glinting off his glasses in a way that has always made him look twice as serious.
“Iida,” Izuku attempts, but his voice fails him when his confusion catches up with him once more. “Uh… um,” he tries again, setting his chopsticks down gingerly. “That’s… I—I’m flattered, but we… we’re both in relationships and, uh, Ochako is my best friend, so I could never—”
The only thing that saves him from continuing down that incredibly awkward path is Iida choking on his noodles so hard that Izuku fears for his life for a brief moment, even stands to his feet, ready to round the table and pound Iida on the back until his airways are clear again. Iida holds up a hand though, signalling that he’s fine, but there are tears gathering at the corners of his eyes making him look particularly desperate when he wheezes, “Izuku—what?”
“Are you—I mean, you’re asking me to go ring shopping with you, which you’re supposed to do with your—”
“For Ochako, Izuku,” Iida interrupts vehemently. Izuku pales. “Go ring shopping to help me pick one for my girlfriend, not for you,” his friend clarifies, a mild hysteria in his voice.
Relief, like a geyser, erupts within Izuku, closely followed by mortification. Iida stares at him with cheeks aflame, his fingers gripping his chopsticks so tightly, they might snap any second now.
“Of course,” Izuku finally manages, barely a whisper. His voice has all but disappeared due to embarrassment. It’s only after the terribly awkward silence settles between them and he has a chance to think about it does he realize exactly what it means to go ring shopping and his eyes, suddenly shining, shoot up to meet Iida’s gaze. He takes a deep breath to say, to shout, “You… you’re going to prop—!”
Iida shoots up from his seat, leans over the table, and slaps both hands over Izuku’s mouth in a show of furious speed. “Izuku!” he says, half whisper, half yell. Iida holds his hands firmly over Izuku’s mouth, but bows his head as though relieved he managed to stop him. “Keep it down… please. It’s supposed to be a secret.”
Once they’re both sure Izuku isn’t going to burst into confetti from excitement, Iida takes his hands away and sits back down, clearing his throat.
“You’re going to propose!” Izuku whispers very, very quietly, still buzzing in his seat.
Iida gives him a look that says I’m glad you’ve caught up, but it’s overshadowed by the fact that he’s blushing, fiddling with his chopsticks in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. “Yes,” he murmurs, before straightening his back and pronouncing confidently, “Yes, I am.”
Izuku reaches over to grab Iida’s hands, beaming at him. “I’m so happy for you, Iida,” he breathes. “And for Ochako. You two… you’re good for one another.” Izuku sighs, almost dreamily. “She’s going to be so happy! You’ve been dating for a while.”
“Mm, three years,” Iida replies, nodding as his blush only seems to get brighter. “Not as long as you and Bakugou, though.”
“Yeah,” Izuku agrees softly, gaze shifting shyly to a side. Now they’re both blushing like idiots in the corner of the break room.
“Are you thinking of…?”
Izuku smiles mildly, shakes his head. “It’s… different for us.”
The lapse in conversation is a little suffocating, but Iida notices and moves it along. “Well, back to my original question,” he says. “Will you go engagement ring shopping with me?” As a joke, he adds this time, “For Ochako.”
Izuku grins and nods enthusiastically. “I’d love to help out,” he replies, before another thought strikes him and his brow furrows faintly. “I thought that you’d be capable enough on your own, Iida. After all, you know her the best. You know what she likes.”
“That’s true,” Iida agrees, growing sheepish, “but, um… that is… y-you see, Izuku, you... well, you have the same sized fingers as Ochako and I was hoping you could try the rings—”
Izuku’s brows shoot towards his hairline as he squawks, “What?”
“Your… your hands are similar to hers,” Iida repeats, briefly glancing down towards Izuku’s fingers, still clinging to his chopsticks. Izuku follows the gaze down to his hands, splaying his fingers out in mid-air so he can look at them, almost scrutinising.
This is really the first time he’s thought about them. They’re pretty normal looking. Littered with scars. Aside from that, he’s sure Katsuki likes his hands—likes to fit them between his own in winter to warm Izuku up, likes the feeling of them in his hair, likes to bind them in bed too, sometimes. Maybe his fingers are somewhat delicate—Izuku would prefer the term lithe—but they do plenty of damage when curled into fists. Sure, they’re a little smaller for a guy, but that’s just because he’s on the smaller side anyway. And, yeah, he likes to keep his nails neat and uses hand cream regularly because his knuckles dry out easily, so his hands always smell like pomegranate, but—
Izuku has girl’s hands.
“Izuku…?” Iida asks tentatively. “Are you all right?”
Unsure how to feel about this new discovery, Izuku just looks back to Iida, hands hovering. “When would you like to go ring shopping?” he asks distractedly, instead of answering the question.
“Oh! As soon as possible, really. Whenever you have the time.”
“How about tonight? After work?” Izuku suggests, finally dropping his hands. Before Iida can ask if that’s really okay, he continues. “Kacchan said he’d be working late, so it’s fine if I get home later too.”
Iida smiles and picks up his chopsticks with renewed vigour. “Tonight it is! Thank you so much, Izuku. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate this.
Izuku looks at his hands once more, frowning, before picking up his chopsticks to finish off lunch.
Thirteen engagement rings.
Izuku, who has never worn a single ring in his entire life, has tried on thirteen different engagement rings in the last two or so hours. There have been pretty little things, simple and silver, topped with a single glimmering diamond, and more intricately crafted rings, gold all twisted and encrusted with rows of sweetly sparkling stones. Some were easy on the eye and some were so obnoxiously ugly that Izuku wondered why anyone would ever think them a good idea.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or whatever.
They had already been mistaken for a couple at three different jewellery stores, but the both of them were tired of explaining the situation, so as they enter the sixth store of the evening, Iida just takes it in his stride and pretends that, yes, Izuku is his bride.
Thankfully their salesperson seems open-minded and just as pleased to assist them as she did with the previous couple. She asks them questions about their preferences of colour and cut of diamond and shape and style and so many other things that Izuku never realised were involved with choosing a ring. After they answer all the questions, a little jaded in the face of her enthusiasm after so many failures, the salesperson gives them a wink and tells them, “I’ve got just the one.”
Izuku can tell Iida waits with bated breath for the salesperson to return with a box that boasts a set of rings. She pries the box open gently, before glancing over at Izuku and holding her hand out for his expectantly. Izuku reaches over and she places in his hand the fourteenth ring of the evening.
It’s mesmerising, even sitting in the palm of his hand.
They all hold their breath as Izuku manoeuvres the ring onto the fourth finger of his left hand. It catches a little at his knuckle, but with some gentle encouragement, he manages to get the ring settled at the base of his finger.
“Oh,” he breathes, staring at it in awe.
It’s the simplest ring yet, just a single band with a slight dip in the usual circular shape where the stone should be—a wishbone ring. The entire band is encrusted with tiny, winking champagne coloured diamonds over the top half. It’s light on his finger and unobtrusive, yet striking and sweet. The best part is that it screams Ochako.
Still, Izuku can’t help but think it kind of suits me too.
When he looks up to ask what Iida thinks of this one, he notices his friend is crying. Not outright, no, but there are a few tears spilling from beneath his glasses as he stares at Izuku’s hand. It takes some time for him to actually look at Izuku, but when he does, he says, “It’s perfect.”
Izuku grins as the salesperson gives a giggle and claps her hands in delight, before asking the usual questions to make sure Iida is sure about his choice, when he’ll need it, if there are any other specifications she needs to know.
All the while, Izuku wears the ring and thinks of Katsuki, thinks of the way he might grimace and tell Izuku it looks ridiculous. The way he would rationally tell him that rings aren’t something they need to prove how they feel about one another and, besides, it would get in the way of their hero work, so they’re impractical anyway. Katsuki could spout reason at him all night, but the thing is, Izuku would still wonder what it would feel like to have Katsuki want to put something like this on his finger. Not even for the sake of a ring, but for the promise, the commitment. And Izuku knows that Katsuki would be right, they don’t need anything like that anyway—they both get it. It’s still a nice thought.
“… Izuku?” Iida calls, maybe the second or third time. “We need to give the ring back.”
“Oh, of course,” Izuku says, blinking out of his stupor and immediately going to pull the ring off.
The ring was a little snug when he put it on, so when it gets caught beneath his knuckle again, he’s not worried—he just gives it a few wobbles and forceful tugs. When that doesn’t seem to do the trick, he looks over to Iida with panic in his eyes. Without exchanging a word, Iida understands and manoeuvres his body so that they can hide the issue from the salesperson while they both try to pry the ring off Izuku’s finger.
“How did you even get it on?” Iida grits, wobbling the ring back and forth in an attempt to squeeze it over Izuku’s knuckle. It hurts so much that he starts slapping at whatever part of Iida he can reach, hissing, “Ow, Iida—ow, stop, stop!”
“Everything okay, gentlemen?” the salesperson asks, poking her head around Iida’s broad shoulders. They both whip around to face her, but she notices what’s happened and laughs demurely behind a perfectly manicured hand. “Has it gotten stuck?” she asks.
“No,” Izuku says, at the same time Iida sighs, “Yes.”
She gives another giggle, but then waves a hand in the air like that will clear all their worries. “It’s been known to happen when couples are ring shopping,” she tells them with a bright smile. “Trying on all those rings heats up your finger, so it ends up being a little bigger than when you started. Sometimes a size that usually fits perfectly can get stuck!”
“Oh, right,” Izuku mumbles sheepishly, blushing faintly. “That… that makes sense.”
Iida clears his throat and nudges his glasses back up his nose. “Right, of course. Will it be stuck… forever?”
“You’ll find that it’ll come right off tomorrow morning if you just rest your hand and let your finger return to its usual size,” the salesperson explains, laughter in her voice. “If you’re happy with your ring of choice, you can purchase it right away.” She turns to Izuku, smiling kindly. “You’ll be wearing it anyway, right?”
Izuku frowns for a brief moment, before he realises that, right, they’re pretending to be a couple right now. “Uh, yes,” he answers, with as much conviction as he can muster. Which is to say, not a lot. “This is… my ring.”
“Great! Come over here and I’ll ring you up now.”
Iida makes to follow the salesperson, slowing by Izuku to whisper, “You can just give it to me tomorrow.”
“Yeah, of course,” Izuku replies, offering a reassuring smile. “I’ll take really good care of it, promise.”
When Izuku arrives home that evening, he’s more than a little exhausted and sore. Most of the ache is in his back and it’s actually from walking around the shopping district for some three hours rather than all the hero work he did today.
The minute he walks through the door, almost all of that fatigue is alleviated. Arriving home has always been like a healing balm to his frazzled soul. It’s always cosy inside, filled with all things familiar and beloved, like the pictures of him and Katsuki that he had to advocate for years to actually get up on the walls, their combined All Might memorabilia, and all the furniture they chose together.
It also smells delicious inside tonight, which means Katsuki is cooking.
Usually, Izuku bounds into the kitchen and wraps himself around Katsuki, while his boyfriend continues cooking and complains about getting smothered, but today… Izuku looks down at his left hand, the pretty ring still stuck on his finger. It’ll probably be best if he can just hide it from Katsuki until tomorrow, which means no smothering today.
That’s right—just a shower, dinner, and then bed. Izuku literally feels his heart ache in his chest at the thought, but he’s not really sure how to explain the situation. Tomorrow, once he takes the ring off, he can get his fill of Katsuki.
After a quiet pep talk, Izuku wanders into the kitchen. He can’t help smiling as his eyes land on Katsuki. His back is turned to Izuku, stirring something over the stovetop, so Izuku takes the opportunity to lean against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, and watch him go about making dinner. Katsuki seasons whatever is frying in the wok and checks his rice before speaking up.
“You just gonna stand there all night?” he asks without turning around.
“Maybe,” Izuku teases, taking in the sight of his boyfriend in a well-worn, black sweatshirt and fitted grey sweatpants that do his ass wonders. “It’s a good view.”
That makes Katsuki turn around briefly to throw Izuku an unimpressed look, before turning his attention back to the food. “Well, you look like shit,” he tells him, moving to the fridge to source some fresh spring onion to chop as a garnish for whatever it is they’re eating tonight.
“Thanks,” Izuku snorts, pushing away from the door and turning away from the kitchen. “I’ll be in the shower.”
Under the spray of hot water, Izuku commends himself for refraining from smothering his boyfriend as usual. At this rate, Katsuki will never have to know that Izuku stupidly got a ring stuck on his finger. It’s perfect. Tomorrow, once his finger has recovered from trying on rings, he’ll slip it off and be done with it. Never have to wear one again.
With a sigh, Izuku rests his palm on the shower wall, tiles cool beneath his touch. The ring sits snugly on his finger; its colour suits his skin well and the weight is so light, but admittedly welcome. A reminder of love and belonging. Except, of course, that it’s not. Not for him, anyway.
Banging on the bathroom door disrupts his thoughts. Through the door, Katsuki tells him to hurry up because the food is ready.
Izuku steals one last glance at the ring and then turns off the water.
Katsuki’s cooking is phenomenal, like always. It’s just a simple pork stir-fry today, on a bed of sesame-scented and steaming rice, but it’s delicious. Izuku can literally feel life seeping back into his bones as he rambles on about his day in between large mouthfuls of stir-fry. He’s halfway through telling Katsuki about the small-time villain he caught today when he’s interrupted.
“What’s wrong with your hand?”
Izuku feels his heart jump right into his throat and he chokes, trying to play it off cool, like a conveniently timed cough. “N-nothing,” he answers, clearing his throat. “Why do you ask?”
Katsuki narrows his eyes. And then throws a single chopstick right at Izuku’s left shoulder.
“Kacchan—!” Izuku scolds, catching the chopstick with his right hand. The only reason he didn’t reach for it with his left, like instinct told him to, was because he was currently sitting on his left hand. “What was that for?”
Katsuki snarls. “I asked you what’s wrong with your goddamn hand, Deku?”
“I told you! It’s nothi—”
“Are you hurt?” Katsuki asks, voice even, like the clear sky before a storm, heavy with the metallic taste of lightening. Izuku feels the displeasure roiling off him like great, grey clouds on the horizon. “Did you get hurt today, Deku?”
Izuku’s really not sure how to answer, because he’s too busy being swallowed up by a tsunami of emotions that include adoration for the way Katsuki seems worried about him, frustration at not being able to hide anything from his boyfriend, and fear regarding what he should do if Katsuki finds out.
A heavy thud tears him from his thoughts as his attention goes to the fist that Katsuki just slammed on their table, making his chopsticks clink and clatter off the bowl. “Damn it!” he shouts. “Why’s it so hard to answer, huh? Show me your hand.”
Izuku panics. “No,” he says.
Katsuki tilts his head slowly in this familiar way that Izuku can read now; it means I’m going to kill you. “Show me your hand, Deku,” Katsuki commands, voice low. He holds out his hand between them.
Heart beating wildly in his chest, Izuku shifts more weight onto his left hand. “I said no,” he whispers.
There’s a moment of quiet between them, in which you could probably hear the ticking of a bomb—probably being definitely and the bomb being Katsuki—just before Katsuki launches himself out of his chair and around the table towards Izuku, who had been partially expecting this and dives out of the way before Katsuki reaches his chair, so instead of getting an armful of Izuku, he stumbles into the chair itself.
As Izuku bolts for the lounge room, he finds himself thinking at least Kacchan went around the table this time.
It takes no time for Katsuki to recover and pursue Izuku, grabbing at furniture to propel himself forward, socked feet skidding on the worn wooden floors as the two of them race around the lounge room. The rug slides out from Izuku’s feet, so he stumbles forward onto his hands and knees, breath catching in his throat as he scrambles back to his feet and hurdles out of Katsuki’s attempt at snatching his ankle by a bare inch. Growling, Katsuki jumps the couch to catch up to his boyfriend, who has now taken the hallway with unrivalled speed straight towards the bedroom, where Katsuki is certain he’ll catch him. After all…
Katsuki skids to a stop in the doorframe to their bedroom, where Izuku is enclosed and glancing around like a caged animal, shoulders heaving as he pants from the sudden exertion.
“Where you gonna run now, Deku?” Katsuki taunts, arms held out at his sides to make himself a human net.
Izuku stands on the far side of the room, so the bed stands between them. Briefly eyeing their pillows, he grabs two and launches one towards Katsuki—towards his face, specifically. After Katsuki blasts his own pillow into feathers, yelling a characteristic haaah?!, Izuku throws the other one as well, and while Katsuki goes to catch that one instead, Izuku dives between his legs and scrambles to get away.
“Fuckin’ Deku—” he hears Katsuki spit behind him, whirling around so viciously that Izuku feels a faint breeze, before a pillow is thrown at the back of his head.
His laughter fills the walls of their home as he runs back to the lounge room, Katsuki stomping after him. Izuku can feel that his earlier frustration has worn off and now they’re just chasing each other for the fun of it. He would even be tempted to stop and catch Katsuki in an embrace, maybe kiss the challenging frown off his face, if he weren’t so determined to win whatever game they were playing now.
What Izuku forgets is that they’re both just as determined as the other.
Two seconds is all it takes to break his winning streak—the two seconds where he slows just a fraction so he can turn around and see where Katsuki is. What he doesn’t expect is Katsuki to be hurtling towards him with all the ferocity of a freight train at full speed.
All he can do is yelp in alarm before Katsuki ploughs right into him and they both slam into the back of the couch, grunting before they tumble over onto the cushions, then take a nosedive off the edge with a loud squawk from Izuku as they land in a pile of tangled limbs on the floor.
And that’s not the end of it, of course not, because it’s them. They’re still struggling, a writhing mess of body parts and strangled noises. Katsuki isn’t pleased until he wrestles Izuku into submission, straddling his hips to keep him down as he grabs for Izuku’s left hand, despite Izuku’s resistance.
“No, no, Kacchan,” Izuku grits. “Kacchan, please, just—just don’t, okay?”
“You—little—fucking—shit—” Katsuki grunts as he holds Izuku’s straining arm still for inspection. The look on his face turns confused once he realises there’s no injury. It’s quite sweet the way his brows draw together and his lips sit parted in this wordless question. “What…?” he breathes, looking over Izuku’s arm, like he’s just missed something. He still hasn’t noticed the ring. “You’re not hurt,” he states flatly, looking to Izuku for answers.
Izuku tears his arm away, cradling it against his chest and trying his best to hide the ring. “I told you,” he insists, pouting heavily in order to draw Katsuki’s attention to his face rather than his hands. Katsuki just loosely drags his hand over Izuku’s face, like he can wipe the pout away.
“Why’d you run, then?” he probes.
And, damn. Did he have to ask? Izuku doesn’t have a good enough answer, so his gaze averts, mind scrambling to think of some excuse. It’s already bad enough that he’s trying to hide something, so he doesn’t really want to lie.
Izuku takes a deep breath. “You just looked so angry,” he sighs. “I don’t know.” Katsuki eases up on holding him down after that, but doesn’t make to get up. “Why did you think my arm was hurt?” Izuku asks.
His boyfriend seems to flush in embarrassment at the question. Glancing away, Katsuki answers, “You… you weren’t using it at the dinner table.”
“Yeah, but you knew before that,” Izuku replies. Katsuki grumbles something under his breath. “Huh?” Izuku prompts.
Katsuki groans in exasperation, rubbing a hand over his face. “You… when you got home… you usually, you know,” he tries, trailing off like Izuku knows exactly what he wants to say. At the blank look he gets in return, Katsuki sighs. “You usually come… and… annoy me, you know? While I’m cooking.”
“Annoy you?” Izuku laughs gently. “I just give you a hug. Anyway, you always make me let go!”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re fuckin’ annoying, but you still do it anyway, stupid,” Katsuki retorts, rolling his eyes, but not reaching Izuku’s gaze again. “You didn’t… do it today, so I thought something might be wrong.”
Izuku feels his features soften into a look of marvel; his heart beats a little heavier in his chest. Their relationship has never been typical, not since the very beginning. It’s matured into something steadfast and satisfying and sure, but Katsuki still struggles to say I love you out loud. Izuku doesn’t mind, because he says it in goodbye kisses before work, the way he cooks dinner every night, and unintentional moments like these.
You didn’t hug me today, so I thought something might be wrong.
I miss you and I was worried about you.
“You love me,” Izuku whispers, a wonderful realisation at first. Katsuki blushes so hard that Izuku thinks his entire face might accidentally explode. “You love me,” he repeats, and then in a singsong voice, “You love me.”
“Shut the fuck up, Deku—”
“You love me,” Izuku sings one more time, trying his luck. When Katsuki goes back to wrestling him until his hands are pinned above his head and the blonde grins over him in triumph, Izuku notes that four times is the limit.
“What’re you gonna do about it?” Katsuki taunts. Taunts. Imagine taunting someone with love.
Izuku beams, bright and pleased with the turn of events, before watching Katsuki go blank-faced. His smile falters a little, brows furrowing in concern as he calls quietly, “Kacchan?”
“Deku,” Katsuki says. States, almost. “What the fuck is that?”
“What…?” Izuku tentatively asks, tilting his head to glance over where Katsuki is looking.
His left hand.
A gasp catches in his throat as he starts squirming again, trying to wriggle out of Katsuki’s grip.
“What the actual fuck is that on your hand, Deku?” Katsuki demands, glowering as he grabs Izuku’s hand to survey it up close. “A fucking engagement ring?”
“Kacchan—please, just let me explain, okay? It’s not what you think. It was an accident—”
“Oh, right, of course,” Katsuki breathes. “You accidentally let someone put a ring on your finger?”
“I—I mean, it wasn’t an accident, exactly, but Iida needed—”
“Iida?!” Katsuki exclaims, and by god, Izuku can almost see the fires of hell burst forth in his eyes. “You let… him put a ring on your finger?” he asks, quieter than Izuku expected. His face is twisted in anger and confusion and something that looks like hurt. Izuku aches.
“It’s for Ochako,” he states outright, unsure how else to explain. Katsuki frowns harder. “Iida asked for help in picking an engagement ring for Ochako, because he wants to propose.”
As Katsuki takes his time to processes this, Izuku threads their fingers together. “Huh,” Katsuki breathes after a while, “so four-eyes finally grew some balls.” The comment has Izuku grinning again, knowing that all is forgiven, until Katsuki asks, “Why’s the ring on your hand, though?”
Izuku groans, turns his head to the side, trying to look as far away from his boyfriend as he can when he says, “Apparently… Ochako and I have similar sized hands.”
Katsuki snorts. “I know. You’ve got girl hands,” he sneers.
“Yeah, well, laugh it up now, because after tomorrow I’m never looking at my hands again,” Izuku tells him, pouting. “I officially hate them.”
Katsuki reaches over to grip Izuku’s chin and turn his head back towards him. “I like ‘em,” he says simply. Izuku smiles faintly. “They’re capable. Pack a punch. Carry all the grocery shopping bags in one trip. They feel good in my hair, better wrapped around my dick—”
“Kacchan!” Izuku gasps around a smile he just can’t help, scandalized even though he knows it’s true.
Katsuki laughs, settling into a grin as he grabs Izuku’s hands, one in each of his. The left hand holds a little glimmer and Katsuki shakes his head in disbelief. Only Izuku. “You’re an absolute fuckin’ idiot, do you know that?” Katsuki tells him, for what is probably the millionth time in their lives.
“Yes,” Izuku sighs. “You love me anyway, right?”
Katsuki replies with a noncommittal hum, too busy looking at Izuku’s hands.
At the ring on the fourth finger of his left hand.
When Katsuki first saw it, his mind clouded over and all he could think about was Izuku leaving him and getting hitched with someone else who could treat him better and love him right, but they had worked through that insecurity so many times before that Katsuki knew how to deal with those thoughts. Izuku would choose him over anyone and they both know it. Hell, everyone fucking knows it.
The ring sits just above the base of his finger, a band that makes the tiniest, strange sort of ‘v’ shape that points away from his knuckles. The dip is tiny and elegant and Katsuki finds himself falling in love with the way it makes Izuku’s finger look slim and strong at the same time. The colour isn’t gold, not exactly; it’s something softer and more suited to Izuku’s pale skin, almost like the rosy skin of his scars. Little stones gleam like champagne bubbles, all in a row.
Katsuki hates imagining Iida putting it on his boyfriend. The image stirs him up so much he wants to rip the ring off Izuku’s finger and fling it into the flaming depths of hell, but at the same time, he can’t remember what Izuku’s hand looked like without it. It’s almost like the ring belongs right there, sitting sweetly against Izuku’s fourth knuckle, reminding the world that he’s—
Oh. Except he’s not.
Katsuki finds himself thinking he should be.
“That bad…?” Izuku asks quietly, probably watching Katsuki’s features subtly express his thoughts.
Katsuki has to take a moment to blink himself out of his trance-like state. More aware, he focuses on Izuku’s freckled face, looking ashamed and worried. “Bad…?” he finds himself repeating, shaking his head slowly, then more assuredly. He pins Izuku’s hands above his head again and lowers himself down so their bodies lay flush, then he kisses Izuku long enough to wipe his anxious mind clean of any thoughts.
“It suits you, Deku,” Katsuki tells him, unable to be anything but honest against Izuku’s lips, a holy place. “It looks really fucking good on you.”
Izuku looks dazed and pleased when Katsuki pulls away, sitting up a little so he can bring Izuku’s left hand to his face and see the ring up close. Made sweetly pliant from their kiss, Izuku’s fingers are relaxed in Katsuki’s grip. He manoeuvres them closer, until he can press a kiss over the band, right at the base of Izuku’s knuckles.
“Kacchan?” Izuku murmurs.
The metal is cool on one side, but warm on the inside, where it touches Izuku’s skin. It’s smooth on the underside, rough on the side studded with diamonds. Katsuki parts his lips and lets his tongue lave over the row of diamonds, curious to know whether they taste sweet like the champagne bubbles they resemble. He finds out they taste metallic, they taste like Izuku, but most importantly, they taste good, so he paints wet kisses all around the base of Izuku’s knuckle, taking pride in drawing strangled noises from his boyfriend, finding reward in manoeuvring around his other fingers to get the perfect angle for a kiss.
Katsuki bites down on Izuku’s finger, making him gasp; as an apology, he opens his mouth and draws his tongue all the way up Izuku’s finger, from knuckle to tip, before taking the entire digit into his mouth. Izuku chokes out something, but Katsuki’s not listening, he’s too busy thinking about how his lips are forming a ring around Izuku’s finger now too.
When he pulls off, a little string of saliva stretches between Izuku’s fingers and his lips. Izuku whines and covers his eyes with his right arm.
“What’re you doing?” Katsuki asks him, voice low.
“What are you doing?” Izuku shoots back, peeking up at him from under his arm. Katsuki looks back towards the fourth finger on Izuku’s left hand; it’s glistening from all his saliva. The ring is still there; it still stirs something inside him.
“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “I do know something, though.”
“Mm? What’s that?” Izuku queries.
“I’m gonna fuck you real good tonight.”
It’s a thrill to watch Izuku’s pupils blow wide so quickly, like black holes absorbing everything around them until there’s nothing left but Katsuki and him, two beating hearts and a pair of wanting gazes.
Katsuki lets himself be consumed, drawing closer until he can capture Izuku’s lips with his own and drown in the warmth of his mouth, always slick and hot and welcoming. Dragging his mouth down Izuku’s chin, Katsuki loses himself along the expanse of his throat. With his tongue he stokes a fire beneath Izuku’s skin, with his hands he conducts a symphony of sounds, deep groans and soft, sweet sighs. Katsuki kisses his way between the constellations of Izuku’s freckles, across his cheeks where it makes Izuku laugh, and down his throat where it makes him sigh. He spends time delving into the star-like clusters just behind Izuku’s ear, getting to know each by name with his lips and with his teeth. Izuku shudders against him, grips onto his sweatshirt, and cranes his neck for more.
The length of Izuku’s bared collarbone is pale and smooth, like sun-kissed marble. Katsuki presses his nose against the crook of Izuku’s shoulder and breathes in the scent of him, freshly showered and dizzying, like jungle air heady with upturned earth and the saccharine scent of exotic flowers.
“Ka—ah—Kacchan,” Izuku sighs, hands all over the place. His fingers catch on Katsuki’s sweatshirt and it scrunches in his grasp when Katsuki bites down softly, riding up and exposing his back as Izuku bucks up beneath him.
Katsuki instinctively starts rocking his hips to the sound of gasping beneath him, to the feeling of Izuku trembling, to the view of Izuku throwing his head back onto the wooden floor and gritting his teeth, brows furrowing softly as he tries to hold himself together. If the way his body writhes when Katsuki grinds against him is any indication, he’s failing.
Not that Katsuki is faring much better. Every part of his body pulsing with how hard his heart is pumping blood through his body. The sight of Izuku, bright eyes lidded and heady, dazed as he breathes hard, lips sinfully red—
“Fuck,” Katsuki groans, squeezing his eyes shut. Cool fingertips brush his skin as Izuku grapples with the hem of his sweatshirt, prompting Katsuki to look at him.
“Kacchan,” Izuku says, impossibly soft and sweet compared to how obscene he looks. Katsuki pushes up, only to grab the hem of his sweatshirt and tug the garment over his head, throwing it haphazardly to a side.
Izuku makes a noise beneath him, kind of like someone stepped on a beloved pet’s squeaky toy. Once the sweatshirt is off, Katuski looks down to see Izuku staring at him, eyes a little glossy and mouth open for some goddamn reason. When their eyes meet, Izuku’s lashes flutter like his eyes are darting away from Katsuki, like he’s been caught doing something he’s not allowed. Katsuki smirks. He knows how Izuku feels about his body, that’s nothing new. He reaches for Izuku’s chin and turns Izuku’s face until they’re looking at one another again, Izuku blushing hard beneath coy lashes.
“Why’re you hiding?” Katsuki asks. Maybe teases.
Izuku smiles shyly. His cheeks are rosy as his hands reach up to rest on Katsuki’s abdomen. “Kacchan, maybe… maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Izuku swallows, dragging his hands down Katsuki’s stomach. “Y’know, while I’m… wearing Ochako’s engagement ring,” he manages.
Katsuki admires the amount of brain power it must have taken him to speak, considering the dazed look on his face. Izuku bites his lower lip when his fingers catch on the waistband of Katsuki’s sweatpants. If he weren’t hard already… damn.
“Mm, maybe,” Katsuki agrees, lowering himself slowly over Izuku, who watches intently, eyes serious, but lips curled in a smile. “But maybe your dumb ass shouldn’t have gotten an engagement ring stuck on your finger in the first place.”
When Katsuki gets close enough that Izuku goes cross-eyed trying to watch him, Izuku closes his eyes and waits and waits and waits. Hot breath touches his lips and he knows Katsuki is close enough to touch with just a tiny tilt of his chin. The very thought has him trembling in anticipation.
“Turn around,” Katsuki says instead, their lips catching roughly. Izuku wants to chase them and leans up to do just that, only to be scolded by Katsuki, who bites at his lower lip in warning. “I said turn around, Deku,” he repeats, voice low.
Izuku opens his eyes, pouting as he sits up and begins to oblige. Katsuki also leans back, only to fumble with one of the drawers beneath their coffee table and fish out a half-empty bottle of lubricant. “Clothes off,” he orders Izuku, setting the bottle aside for now.
Izuku is prompted into motion until he’s completely naked, boasting a healthy dusting of pink all over his body. It’s one of the things Katsuki loves about him. Izuku cannot hide what he’s feeling.
“Good,” Katsuki praises quietly, coming to kneel behind Izuku. He rests a hand at the small of his back and slowly smooths a path up, watching with a pleased smile as goosebumps rise all over his skin. Izuku breathes in deep. “Hands and knees, please,” Katsuki says. His dick strains as Izuku leans forward, presenting his ass for Katsuki to do what he pleases. Groan rumbling in his throat, Katsuki shamelessly grabs Izuku’s ass and squeezes. “Fuck, okay,” he whispers to himself, hearing Izuku titter. Sliding his hands down to grasp Izuku’s thighs and spread his legs apart shuts him up pretty quick—one point for Katsuki—but then Izuku arches his back and wriggles his backside in anticipation, making Katsuki all but salivate profusely over his boyfriend—so, one point for Izuku.
Katsuki teases him a little, but only a little. Patience is really not his forte, so when he’s just barely three fingers deep in Izuku, who starts whining things like, “Kacchan, th—that’s enough. M’good, m’good, Ka—Kacchan, I want you already, I want you—”
Yeah. Katsuki caves pretty damn quick.
His hands are shaking as he lines himself up and, faintly, Katsuki thinks he can’t remember the last time he was so wired, aching to be inside. Except—that’s a lie. Izuku always makes him feel like this, like they never managed to grow out of being desperate, ragingly horny teenagers. The feeling isn’t new, but it’s so, so goddamned good.
“Kacchan,” Izuku grumbles desperately beneath him. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon—” His breath catches in his throat then, but he gasps and chokes out pitiful little sounds as Katsuki gives him what he wants, pushes into him, trembling all over with the effort it takes to go slow, to not rush forward into Izuku’s welcoming warmth.
Katsuki can barely keep his eyes open, a low groan pushing past his teeth until he’s all inside.
Izuku pants beneath him, shoulders rising and falling. A tiny jewel of sweat draws a path between his shoulder blades and Katsuki leans over to taste it, bringing their bodies flush. Satisfied with the taste of him, Katsuki presses a kiss to base of Izuku’s neck. “Deku,” Katsuki whispers into his hairline.
“Kacchan, sorry,” Izuku murmurs, soft and a little wheezy. “M’sorry ‘bout getting the ring stuck.”
“S’okay, Deku,” Katsuki breathes against his skin, smoothing a hand along Izuku’s side, unhurried and comforting. “I like it,” he tells him, drawing his palm down Izuku’s thigh. “I like the way it looks on you.” Izuku keens gently as Katsuki teases him. His cock hangs desperate between his legs and Katsuki traces along his pelvic muscle, not close enough for any satisfaction.
“I like—I liked it too,” Izuku admits, huffing as he drops his head. “I was scared you’d hate it.”
Katsuki shakes his head, rubbing his brow between Izuku’s shoulders as he does so. “It looks pretty on you, Deku,” he says, lifting his head and tangling his fingers into Izuku’s thick locks to guide his head back up by pulling on his hair. Katsuki leans over his gorgeous body and bites at the shell of his ear. “I bet everyone who saw you on your way home was thinkin’ the same thing,” he murmurs against Izuku’s ear, making him shiver. “Thinkin’ ‘damn, whoever put that there is a fucking lucky bastard’.”
Izuku turns to hide his face against Katsuki’s jaw, biting down on his lower lip—an action that doesn’t stop the whine from echoing low in his throat. His body pushes back against Katsuki and the both of them shudder together, Katsuki’s grip growing unintentionally tighter on Izuku.
“Do… do you feel lucky?” Izuku pants.
Katsuki noses against Izuku’s temple, until his boyfriend lifts his face so Katsuki can surge in and press their lips together. It’s not a kiss, no, he’s not coherent enough for that right now—it’s the two of them taking shuddering breaths, mouthing at the corner of one another’s lips, at chins and cheeks and noses. “I feel fuckin’ blessed today, Deku,” Katsuki tells him, carves it onto his tongue. Izuku seems to love it and laps every word up like parched man. “Imagine how many people are out there,” he drawls, pulling out of Izuku slowly, “absolutely fuckin’ salivating over your tight little ass and I’m the only one who gets to have—oh, f-fuck—” Words fail him as he pushes back in. Izuku whimpers beneath him, both of them feeling far too keenly the resistance of his body.
“Only want you,” Izuku manages breathlessly. “I only want you, Kacchan, don’t—don’t want anyone else to touch me, just you.”
Katsuki groans his approval as they begin to move together, finding a slow rhythm that Izuku can handle. “That’s right, Deku, you’re mine,” he huffs. It’s hard to catch his breath when every time he thrusts back into Izuku’s heat he gets this close to coming. “Gonna… gonna get you one of these,” he growls, grasping Izuku’s left hand in his own. The ring is almost as warm as his skin. “Gonna make you wear it everywhere we go so everyone knows you’re off limits.”
Izuku pants noisily into his ear, breath catching on his words. “You’re gonna—ah—gonna get me a ring?”
“Mhm,” Katsuki hums against his skin. He tangles their fingers together. “M’gonna put a ring on you, just watch.”
It’s not the strangest thing to fall from Izuku’s lips while they’re caught in the heat of the moment, but it’s not the sexiest either. Katsuki feels his hips stutter, body reacting in confusion because Beyoncé doesn’t seem to fit with what they had going on. When he turns to look at Izuku wearing a frown, his boyfriend has this dopey grin on his face—the kind he wears when he gets a little drunk and loose. His eyes are closed, lashes fluttering and head bobbing gently with the movement of their bodies. God, Katsuki fucking loves him, the absolute idiot.
“Deku, you’re banned from speaking for the rest of the night, got it?” he asserts, gripping Izuku’s hip in hopes of waking him up from that hazy sex stupor he seems to have settled in.
Izuku replies with, “Mm.” And then, “Maybe you’re just not doing a good enough job at making me speechless.”
Katsuki stills, staring at Izuku, who blinks over at him languidly. The smile slips off his lips, features softening around the little dip that appears in his brow. Gaze glossy, he asks, “Why’d you stop…?”
Still experiencing shock from his boyfriend telling him he wasn’t doing a good enough job, Katsuki releases Izuku’s hand and straightens. He settles both hands just above Izuku’s hips, thumbs nearly meeting on the small of his back. Izuku’s got this tiny waist that never fails to captivate Katsuki. In this position, his hips flare outward to form the soft swell of his tight ass, which Katsuki can’t stare at for too long, because he’ll start to drool. Instead he tears his eyes away from where they’re connected and glances over at Izuku, who is looking at him over his shoulder, curious.
“Hold on,” Katsuki tells him. A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips.
There is just enough time for Izuku’s eyes to widen, before Katsuki draws out of him slowly, then uses his grip to yank Izuku back onto his cock. Izuku cries out, voice squeaking in surprise. His hands scramble for purchase as his knees skid on the floor. Katsuki gives him a moment to say stop if he wants, but when all he gets is the shudder of breath picking up in anticipation he goes again. Instead of thrusting into Izuku, he manoeuvres him with his hands and watches as Izuku’s body welcomes his length over and over and over again, so easy and so warm.
“Ah, ah—oh,” Izuku whimpers. “Oh my god, yes, Kacchan—like that, j-just like—”
Katsuki cuts him off by picking up the pace and growling out, “Still talking, Deku?” Izuku keens at the force and Katsuki finds his body bowing over him as his hips start to rock again and he’s not sure what is more obscene—the noise of their bodies coming together or the whines spilling from Izuku’s lips. “That’s right,” Katsuki pants. “That’s the only thing I wanna hear from you toni—”
Izuku’s elbows buckle beneath his weight then and he’s suddenly surging forward to face plant the wooden floor with a gasp.
Katsuki slows, huffing, “Oh, shi—Deku, are you—?”
“No, no, no,” is the only thing Katsuki hears from him at first, before, “d-don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, Kacchan, d-don’t, don’t—” The muscles of Izuku’s back ripple as he shifts, as he starts to push his ass back against Katsuki, erratically fucking himself. “Kacchan,” he cries, actually cries, “Kacchan.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Katsuki whispers as he gives his boy what he wants, watching in wonder as Izuku presses his face against the wooden floor, his hands curling into fists. Beneath his face appear splashes of dark brown, stray tears staining the wood under his cheeks. And, fuck, if that isn’t gorgeous.
Katsuki fucks Izuku hard and fast and thorough, just like he promised, there on their lounge room floor. He gives in and folds over Izuku, whose back feels cool with sweat as Katsuki leans over him, wraps one arm around his chest and uses the other to hold himself up. Their bodies move together, making the floorboards creak.
Izuku scrambles beneath him like he was earlier while they were chasing one another around the house, but he’s not trying to get away this time, he’s just blindly grasping for something to cling to while Katsuki fucks him speechless. His sounds occupy the space around them, all incoherent, half-broken and choked out between gulps of air. And sweet, so sweet.
“Ah, ah—ngh—Kaccha—ah—Kacchan, oh, oh god,” Izuku cries and cries, until his voice catches in his throat around a hoarse cry, his body jerking as he comes completely untouched.
Everything slows after that. Katsuki buries his face in his hair, praising Izuku through his orgasm in a whisper. “Just like that,” he says, “Yeah, Deku… such a good boy for me.” He smooths his hand down Izuku’s stomach and around his spent cock, feels it jerk on his way to touch the sticky heat between his thighs. Izuku gasps quietly. “You good?” Katsuki asks.
“Yeah,” Izuku sighs. “You can move.”
He hums sweetly once Katsuki starts to move again, just slow, shallow thrusts so Izuku can accommodate the stimulation in his sensitive state. Every time he pushes in, Izuku makes this whimpering sound that Katsuki loves, so he seeks it over and over.
Katsuki rests his brow at the base of Izuku’s neck; he takes Izuku’s hands into each of his own and tangles their fingers together as best he can. He traces a path from the topmost knob of Izuku’s spine to his hairline with his lips, then presses kisses all the way to Izuku’s ear. “Deku,” he murmurs, but it sounds like mine. His fingers can’t stop playing with the ring on Izuku’s left hand, nudging the band, twisting it side to side, and tracing the outline of the delicate diamonds.
That’s how he comes inside Izuku, squeezing the band around the fourth finger of his left hand, panting his name against his neck. Katsuki feels so hot; he’s scared they’ll melt into one another.
Their hard breathing fills the room. Izuku still trembles faintly beneath Katsuki, with the effort of not just slumping completely to the floor.
“You’re so good, Deku,” Katsuki tells him, both of them shuddering when he pulls out. Izuku heaves his body back up, shifting to lean against the couch on a side, head resting on the couch cushions. Katsuki follows suit. His arms rests along the edge of the cushions, so Izuku takes that as an invitation to curl up beside him, using his shoulder as a pillow.
Their bodies gleam with sweat and the floor is going to have to undergo some serious deep cleaning. For now, they sit and try to catch their breath. Izuku lets Katsuki mindlessly play with his hair, twisting curls around his fingers, as he tucks his nose against the hollow of Katsuki’s throat and breathes in his scent—sweat and sugar and something a little like sesame.
Izuku speaks into the quiet first, still breathless. “I should accidentally get a ring stuck on my finger more often… huh?” Katsuki bites at his ear playfully. Izuku laughs.
“I thought I told you not to open that pretty mouth of yours for the rest of the night,” Katsuki replies. His voice rumbles in Izuku’s ear.
“It only stays quiet when occupied,” Izuku tells him, quiet and coy.
“Then c’mere,” Katsuki says.
Izuku laughs as he’s pulled in close and kissed senseless.
Izuku is at home a few evenings later, cosy in a pair of sweatpants and one of Katsuki’s old t-shirts as he sways to some music in the kitchen. He’s cooking up the only recipe he’s ever perfected: katsudon. While Katsuki is definitely the better chef of the two, Izuku tries his best to keep up and make sure his boyfriend has a warm, tasty meal to come home to at least once in a while.
The morning after getting the ring stuck, Izuku had woken early and managed to slip the ring off his finger—just like the sales person had told him he would be able to. Then he had taken it into the bathroom and cleaned it thoroughly, blushing furiously the entire time as he thought of Katsuki mouthing at it the night before.
They could never, ever tell Iida and Ochako.
At work, he handed over the ring to Iida, a little sad to part with it, but still happy for his friends. Iida thanked him again (profusely) for being his hand model and apologised (sincerely) for the trouble. Izuku sheepishly assured him it was no trouble.
Iida proposed just last night. Ochako said yes, of course.
As Izuku places a lid over his pan of simmering onions, he catches a glimpse of his left hand, looking a little naked without anything there. The distant sound of the door opening and closing distracts him, so he shakes himself out of those thoughts by the time Katsuki ambles into the kitchen.
“Hey,” he greets, turning to smile at his boyfriend. “Welcome home.”
Katsuki grunts and walks straight past him, bee-lining for the bathroom. Izuku knows Katsuki is probably just tired and in need of a hot shower, so he tries not to let the attitude bother him, turning back to the food.
A little while later, Izuku has nearly got dinner ready and Katsuki stomps back into the kitchen, looking refreshed and smelling sweet. There’s a light grimace still etched onto his features.
“Kacchan,” Izuku says gently. “Are you okay?”
“If round face asks you whether there was something wrong with me today—tell her no, you hear?” is definitely not the reply Izuku expects.
“Okay, sure,” he replies, setting down his wooden spoon and wiping his hands on a tea towel as he slowly approaches Katsuki. “Uh, but… was there something wrong with you today?”
Katsuki takes a deep breath, clearly frustrated as he rubs both hands over his face. “They got engaged last night, yeah?” When Izuku nods, Katsuki continues. “Obviously she came in to work today wearing the ring…” He trails off, looking at Izuku expectantly. Izuku desperately wants to know what the hell he’s trying to imply here, but all he can do is blink blankly back at his boyfriend.
“Yes…?” he tries. Katsuki rolls his eyes.
“The ring, Deku. The ring,” he tries to clarify, but nothing really clicks for Izuku.
“Yeah, okay, the ring. I know the one. What about it?”
“The ring that you got stuck on your finger.” Izuku nods, none the wiser. “The ring that you wore while we fucked—”
“Kacchan!” Izuku interrupts. “I get it! What about it?”
Katsuki huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. Then he uncrosses them. “You know, round face walked in wearing it and I…” Katsuki throws his head back and groans, before turning to face Izuku dead in the eye as he confesses, “I got hard when I saw it and I had to avoid her for the rest of the day.”
Izuku blinks once, twice. And then he laughs so hard he gives himself a stitch.
“Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up,” Katsuki grumbles, pushing gently at Izuku, who has to take a seat. He moves to take over the cooking while Izuku is wiping away tears of mirth. “Katsudon?” he queries, glancing over at Izuku, who sniggers and breaks out into laughter again. Katsuki shakes his head, but he can’t help the smile. Izuku has a nice laugh.
By the time Katsuki has whisked some eggs and poured them into the pan, Izuku has more or less composed himself.
“Okay, I think I’m done,” he says, grinning at Katsuki from the dinner table.
“Good, ‘cause I wanted to tell you something even better,” Katsuki replies, glancing over. “I got dessert covered.”
“Ooh?” Izuku pipes up, suddenly curious.
“Mm,” Katsuki confirms, leaving the kitchen briefly to get something from his things at the door. When he returns, he throws a small packet at Izuku, who catches it with a puzzled look. It’s a bright packet, for a certain type of candy…
Izuku glares over at Katsuki once he realises what it is.
“What?” Katsuki sniggers. Izuku opens the packet and pushes the shiny, red ring pop onto his middle finger, which he uses to flip off his boyfriend. That only makes Katsuki laugh harder, before his smile turns softer—a private smile just for Izuku. “Just ‘till I can get you a real one.”
Izuku is torn between feeling pleased or exasperated. Katsuki smirks at him. Holding his hand out in front of him, Izuku makes as though genuinely admiring the ring pop. “Does it make you want to fuck me?” he asks, thinking he would be all funny and clever.
“Hah,” Katsuki barks a sarcastic laugh, grinning at his boyfriend. “Yeah, right.”
Izuku very slowly, very deliberately takes the ring pop into his mouth and gives it a good, hard suck. He never breaks eye contact with Katsuki, whose eyes turn dark. Izuku slides off the candy with a pop. Katsuki raises his brows in consideration as his boyfriend licks his lips of sticky raspberry flavour.
“Okay, a little bit,” Katsuki amends his earlier answer, looking away.
Izuku gasps playfully, holding the ring pop close to his chest protectively. “You’re insatiable,” he tells him.
As Katsuki laughs, Izuku gets up and wanders back into the kitchen, wriggling his finger free of the ring pop. Katsuki looks at him with mild curiosity. When his hands are free, Izuku takes his left hand and works the ring pop onto his fourth finger. They both stare at it. Katsuki has always had pale hands, but the ruby red ring pop kind of fits in with his rosy knuckles.
“S’heavier than expected,” Katsuki comments, quieter than usual.
Izuku links their fingers together loosely, gazing at Katsuki, smile soft and earnest. “It’s the thought, though. Right?”
Katsuki looks at Izuku, before his eyes drop to observe their hands.
“It’s the thought,” he agrees.