#riv.drabbles

“Hah!? What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Katsuki stares. “How do I feel about you ordering things?”

You shrug sheepishly, feigning, to your credit, a very convincingly nervous look. “I just didn’t want to upset you.”

The look on Masaru’s face twists immediately to heartbreak—like he can’t believe his son would turn out this way. Meanwhile, Mitsuki’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits. Katsuki waves a hand gesturing at you in shock as if to ask, are you seeing this? as he stares at his parents helplessly.

“She’s messin’ around, I swear, she always does this—”

“Katsuki.”

“Don’t Katsuki me—I haven’t done anything!”

“You know,” Masaru says carefully, eyeing his son in disappointment, “sometimes people don’t realize they’re behaving a certain way until there are signs. But we have to look at the signs for what they are, son.”

“Dad—”

“No, let me finish.” Masaru holds up a hand. “You’re supposed to be equals in a relationship. If she’s worried about upsetting you over something as simple as ordering a drink, maybe you should ask yourself why she feels that way.”

“Because she’s insane!”

“Katsuki!” Mitsuki hisses, pointing a finger at him as she says, “don’t call her that! The only reason for that is because you’re driving her crazy—look at her! The poor thing! She’s shaking over there, and it’s because of you!”

“She’s not shakin’ for shit! Look—look at her! She’s fighting back a fuckin’ smug little look on her face because she’s—”

Mitsuki suddenly reaches across the table and catches him by the ear. “What have I told you about making girls feel respected, huh? This is why they’ve never liked you! And now one finally does and you’re scaring her off?”

“Ow—you fucking hag!”

She gives his ear a sharp tug. “Language.”

“Ow! Let go, you old—”

You look up innocently, “Please don’t scold him, he’ll be in a bad mood when we get home.”

Mitsuki yanks his ear harder at that, steam practically pouring from her own ears, and Masaru holds a hand to his chin in deep, concerned thought.

“Just what happens at home when it’s just the two of you, huh? Why is she scared about what’ll happen when you’re home?!”

“Nothing! Literally fuckin’ nothing, she terrorizes me at home, if anything! Look with your eyes, you old hag!”

Finally taking mercy on him, you chuckle, reaching over to ruffle Katsuki’s hair. He gives you a nasty side glare, but it softens just a smidge when you lean into his side and kiss his cheek.

“I was only kidding,” you beam at Mitsuki, “I just wanted to make him sweat a bit.”

She looks at you with a cautious gaze, her fingers still tightly wrapped around Katsuki’s poor (and red) earlobe as she asks, “Are you sure you’re not just protecting him?”

“Oh don’t worry,” you hum, patting your boyfriend’s chest as he shakes his head in irritation, “you’d be the first to know if he acts even the slightest bit out of line.”

“I never get a chance to be out of line, cause you’re the bossiest—”

Just then, the waitress arrives with your drinks. She sets yours down first. “Here you go, honey.” Then she places Katsuki’s down. The sour look she gives him could practically curdle milk. “Sir.”

Katsuki stares after her as she walks off, and you giggle as you pinch his cheek affectionately. “We should come back here next week, huh baby?”

“Yeah, if my face isn’t on a wanted poster at the door,” he grumbles under his breath.

You reach over with a cheeky grin, grabbing his drink and taking a sip before taking another from your own glass. After a moment of contemplating, you hum, “I like your drink better. I’m taking it. Here—” you slide him yours as you pull his own glass to your side of the table. “You take that one.”

He turns to his mother and waves a hand. “See?! She terrorizes me!”

“I’m not seeing a problem,” she says, giving him a less than impressed look. “All I’m seeing is a poor girl finally realizing her worth after dealing with your nonsense.”

He slumps into his seat, giving up, and you lean your head onto his shoulder, beaming up at him victoriously as he gives you a tired look. (And, much to your pride, you know are getting very, exceedingly good at getting under Katsuki’s skin—it’s a hobby you’re quite talented at.)

“Hah?” he snaps, inching closer as he stares into the camera with furrowed brows. You easily ignore him.

“I’ve been meaning to break up with him sooner, but I just didn’t want to handle all the crying and stuff—from him, not me, just to be clear.”

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ cry over your stupid ass video—”

“Unfortunately, he’s a very emotional person. Very clingy, too.”

“I’m not clingy. You’re the one who spams me with texts while I’m on patrol!”

You dab concealer beneath your eyes as he defends himself against every accusation you make, and it becomes far too difficult to hide your laughter. You let out a soft giggle, and he throws you a very offended glare. (Yes, Katsuki is smart enough to know that this is a silly little joke on your part just to be funny. No, that does not stop him from treating this as a serious matter in which he has to protect his dignity. Lucky for you, that only makes for better views.)

“Now, some people might think breaking up with a pro hero wouldn’t be very smart for my brand, but luckily, mine is very easy to replace.”

“Easy to replace?”

You have to look away from him because the expression on his face is making it ten times harder to pretend to take this seriously, and you’re barely keeping a straight face. “There are lots of blonde men in the world, so I’m sure I’ll easily find someone else to fit the role.”

“Who the fuck are you gonna find better than me, huh?” He challenges, particularly irritated by that statement. 

“As you can see, he’s already in denial.”

“Oi! Don’t ignore me!”

“Anger is the next stage of grief.”

The phone is grabbed before you can dab on your blush, and he spins you around, pinning you against the bathroom counter as he gives you a dirty look. You break into a fit of giggles, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press an innocent kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“Hi, baby,” you hum.

He raises a brow. “Don’t hi baby me, dumbass. You make sure you tell that camera that you’ll never dump your boyfriend and that there’s no other man—blonde or not—like him, and—”

You roll your eyes, hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him into a soft, slow kiss, cutting his words off effectively. He melts into you, kissing back as soon as your lips touch his, and you like to think that your silly idea only makes him kiss you a little more seriously. A little more meaningful, just to prove something.

“Don’t worry,” you peck the corner of his mouth, “I was just kidding. I’d never dump someone with pro hero money from the number five spot.”

— — — — —

“Get ready with me to get proposed to by my pro hero boyfriend!”

You beam at your phone camera from your vanity. Behind you, Katsuki is sprawled across the bed, one ankle hooked over the other, scrolling on his phone while sipping on his morning coffee. The coffee immediately goes down the wrong pipe.

He chokes, and a terribly strained coughing fit erupts from behind you. You almost feel bad for disrupting his peace on his day off—almost. 

“Now, the proposal hasn’t been planned yet,” you explain to your hypothetical audience while reaching for your moisturizer, “but I’ve decided I want it to happen today.”

Another coughing fit. “What?”

“Katsuki, are you okay? You’re coughing a lot today. Do you have a cold?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, woman—what the fuck are you up to this time?”

You give him an innocent smile as you say, “Nothing!”

You’ve decided to keep this little game going for as long as you can—a new scheme whenever you can to keep him on his toes. Partially because you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy his reactions, but partially because, truthfully, you think seeing a softer, more human side of Katsuki will do him some wonders in the public eye. And what sort of doting girlfriend would you be if you didn’t take your chances at helping his public image?

“Why do you keep lying to your audience through these stupid videos?” he demands.

You gasp. “Lying?”

“Yes, lying,” he gives you a flat look, eyeing you like you’re crazy for denying the accusation.

“Why would this be a lie?” You challenge. Then, dramatically, you gasp, clutching your chest in mock hurt as you hiss, “So are you saying that you don't want to marry me?”

“W-what? I didn’t fuckin’ say that—don’t put words in my mouth—”

“So, I guess this video is now becoming a get-ready-with-me to get dumped, because apparently Katsuki wants to break up with me because he fell out of love with me and found someone new. I think he’s been emotionally cheating on me with someone—a sidekick, I’d bet. Always trust your gut, ladies—your gut never lies.”

“Hah?! You—” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face as he exhales tiredly and gives you a dry look. “You know what, that’s right. M’fuckin’ dumping your ass.”

You clap a hand over your mouth dramatically. “Everyone cancel him!”

— — — — —

“Get ready with me to make out with my pro hero boyfriend!”

You beam at your phone camera yet again. But today, for the first time in the history of these videos, there is no Katsuki behind you that is staring at you in disbelief or glaring at you in irritation. Instead, Katsuki is sitting on the bed, looking up from his phone as a wide, smug grin spreads across his face.

“Finally,” he says, setting his phone aside. “You thought of a good one.”

You blink. “Wait—”

“No, no, you can’t take shit back now. You wanna make out with your pro hero boyfriend, so that’s what your video is gonna be, baby.”

“Katsuki—”

He stands, hastily walking over as he says in approval, “Now we’re talkin. I like this video idea.”

He materializes in front of you, easily grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you up before he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him. His lips start peppering kisses up your throat and along your jaw as he works his way up to your lips. You melt against your will, giggling a little as you hiss (weakly), “Kats! We can’t…you can’t kiss me yet!”

“And why the fuck not, huh? You got some other boyfriend to kiss? Bring ‘im here, I can fight.”

“I have to get ready first,” you huff, shoving him lightly, “that’s the point of a get-ready-with-me? You have to wait till my makeup is done.”

“What’s the point in that?” He hums, pressing a soft, delicate peck to your lips before he murmurs, “s’just gonna be a waste of all your hard work when m’done with you, yeah baby?”

You shiver at the tone in his voice, pupils dilating as you stare at him. His eyes are twinkling with amusement as he gives you a wolfish grin, reaching over and locking your phone, and cutting the camera off from recording. This video might not end up getting posted at all, you think—this one might just break community guidelines. 

Katsuki huffs a small laugh, standing in front of the mirror before grabbing his phone. Sweat glistens across his shoulders, tank top clinging damply to his chest. He angles the camera just enough to be annoying—his face isn’t in frame, and not nearly enough skin is showing for you to be satisfied. But he thinks he deserves to have his own fun now and then.

Katsuki: calm down you brat. here Katsuki: and who the hell said i was taking my shirt off for anybody?

He sends the picture—cropped from the neck down, all broad chest, flexed arms, and the hem of his shirt lifted just enough to show a strip of skin where his abs are.

Three dots appear instantly.

You: why did u crop ur face u jerk You: nice abs lemme lick them You: when are u coming home???? You: come home the kids miss you

Katsuki: we don’t have any damn kids

You: we could always change that ;)

He lets out a quiet laugh at that, rolling his eyes fondly as a soft flush of pink paints the tips of his ears. He’s typing his response with a stupid fucking grin on his face, forgetting his surroundings for a moment as he focuses simply on talking to you.

Katsuki: don’t embarrass yourself loser Katsuki: i’ll be home in an hour. love you

You: love you too baby. and ur abs. but mostly you

“Yo, Kacchan,” Denki calls, instantly making that stupid grin on his face drop. “Who are you texting, smiling like that, huh?” he teases, raising a knowing brow.

Katsuki glares daggers at the fucking idiot, scowling as he pockets his phone and gets back to finishing his set.

“No one, you fucking bastard—worry about yourself.”

“Ah, young love,” Hanta chimes in. “Y’know, if your girlfriend has any friends, you should introduce a guy—”

“Would you idiots be quiet?” Katsuki hisses.

His ears are flushed a soft pink again—he can feel the heat creeping up to them, and he focuses on lifting his weights faster just to avoid his friends’ knowing stares. Friends not for much longer, of course, he thinks to himself. They’re lucky he even settled for the word friends at all, and now he’s going to revoke the title altogether.

“Next time, let me be in the picture,” Denki whines. “My abs are just as nice—tell her to set me up with someone who’ll stalk me and ask me for gym pictures.”

“Fuck off you dunce-faced fucking freak—”

“Ask her if anyone she knows is into thighs,” Sero adds, interrupting. “My thighs are my selling point.”

“Shut the hell up before I kill all of you.”

———

“Your freakish stalking is causing me strokes,” Katsuki grumbles as he walks through the front door.

You giggle, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck while his curl around your waist, pulling you flush against his still slightly sweaty body.

“Why?” you ask sweetly. “Get all shy when I ask you for pictures?”

“As if,” he snorts, giving you a sly, arrogant little smirk. “I like seein’ your dumb ass act like a fool. It’s those idiots that give me headaches.”

“Oh?” You drag the word out, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “So you did like me begging for shirtless pics? You like the attention?”

“I liked you humiliating yourself,” he corrects smugly.

“Hm. I don’t know, Kats—I think you cropping your face told me everything I needed to know.”

“And what’s that?” He raises a brow as you grin, poking the tip of his nose.

“That you were blushing.”

“I was not blushing,” he scowls. This of course, is said while he blushes, and you give him an amused little cheeky grin.

“Aw, baby,” you coo, squeezing his cheeks together as he gives you his best glare. (It’s not a very good one, considering the predicament he’s in with his face in your hands, but he’s nothing if not stubborn.) “How cute—you like my attention that much?”

“Keep talking,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes. “See what happens, idiot.”

You grin wider. “What, will you stop sharing your location with me? I’ll just stalk you in other ways. I’m creative.”

“I’ll bet,” he snorts, “you fucking freak.”

Before you can get another word in to retort, he dips his head and kisses you hard—warm and familiar and a still little mean in the way only he can manage. He pulls away just when you go to deepen it, making you huff with a pout. You glare at him when he pulls away at first, but your eyes melt into something softer when his thumb brushes along your side.

You’re both a little breathless as he looks at you, admiring your flustered face.

“You’re sweaty,” you mumble, “go take a shower.”

“I got better things to do,” he hums.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Well.” He kisses you again, quicker this time, pulling away so his lips can attach themselves to your neck. “Someone wants to have my babies, so I got my fuckin’ work cut out for me.”

You open the door, and he catches his balance from losing the stability of resting against the wood. His eyes remain closed as you let him in because if he dares open them and ruin whatever scheme you have going, he thinks hell will break loose. You’ve always had a flair for the dramatics, after all. And he’s not going to risk making the pounding in his head any worse than it already is, so he keeps those eyes carefully shut.

“Good,” you hum, satisfied. “They’re closed.”

“Callin’ me a liar?” He grumbles. “Now what’s this about, hah?”

“Okay,” you giggle, “I got something in the mail. I think you’ll like it,” you coo, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his jaw. He melts fractionally at the touch of your lips. “I think you’ll really like it. Maybe. I hope.”

“If this is a surprise, it doesn’t sound too promising,” he says under his breath. You smack his chest in response, and he practically sulks. “Just sayin’. You don’t sound too confident.”

“Well, you’re a tough crowd,” you huff, “so you never know.”

“Well, you—”

He’s cut off with his hands being taken into yours, being pulled over to your hips. He pauses, feeling bare skin under his palms. Well, some bare skin. There’s fabric there too, but…clearly not a lot. He’s starting to see where this is going, he thinks.

“S’that a new set?” His lips curl into a grin, eyes still obediently closed. “Fuck, princess—of course I’d love this surprise. Why wouldn’t I? Love anything on you.”

“Not exactly the sort of set you’re thinking of,” you hum. “But close.”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“Say please.”

“Please. Happy, you little fuckin’ tease?”

“Okay, fine,” you pretend to sigh, caving. “You can open them.”

His eyes open, and Katsuki is…well, he’s speechless, that’s for sure. He has no brainpower for words. Only enough to keep his eyes trailing over your body as he takes in the sight—and fuck, is it a sight.

Most of the time, when kids wear costumes inspired by him, he thinks they’re little brats. Kind of cute brats that he’s admittedly a little fond of deep down, but brats all the same. This, on the other hand, is not a child’s costume with cheap fabric, nor is it anything of the sort that snot-nosed brats would wear.

No.

This rendition of his costume consists of the upper half of it being basically reduced to a bra—black fabric covered with lace that sits against your skin, while bright orange straps cross over your breasts in the unmistakable shape of his signature X emblazoned across his torso. The matching shorts (that are, by all means, very short) sit high on your hips, trimmed with orange embroidery and sheer black mesh. Dark green garter straps circle your thighs, mimicking the harnesses on his hero costume before disappearing into lace-topped stockings.

He blinks. Once. Then twice. Then again. And then his breath hitches terribly loud.

“Do you like it?” You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press a line of kisses along his jaw. He shivers under your touch. “Thought maybe we could match.”

“S’not gonna help you much in a fight bein’ dressed like this,” he croaks, voice shakier than he has the pride to admit.

“Well, I don’t know,” you grin cheekily, “maybe I’ll drop the villains dead by being the hottest hero around, even if I can’t be the most explosive.”

“No villains are seein' you like this,” he huffs, giving your hips a squeeze as he adds, “I'll kill 'em first.”

“So you admit my costume would make for a banger debut, huh?”

“Fuck, baby, you’re killin’ me here,” he groans, burying his head into your neck. He presses soft, lingering kisses to the skin as his hands trail from your hips to the small of your back, pulling you forward and flush against his body. “M’not even gonna ask where the fuck you bought this, or how you even found it in the first place. Fuckin' crazy is what you are.”

“Nice little website that got advertised to me. There was a Deku version, too—”

He picks you up, making a low, dissatisfied sound in the back of his throat as his fingers dig into your ass, carrying you to the bed. He drops you onto the mattress, hovering over you as he pins your hands over your head. His eyes are dark, glinting with arousal and desire and challenge all at once.

“Oh yeah? Well, good thing for you, sweetheart, you got the real deal right here to prove you bought the better costume.”

Katsuki is no longer all that tired. He has enough energy to make his day just a little longer.

His mouth twitches into a frown against your neck. “Stop being dramatic.”

“You weigh so much.”

“That’s fuckin’ rude. And I’m not even on you.”

“You are literally on top of half my body!”

He makes a low, irritated sound at your unwillingness to quietly let him have his way. (Heaven forbid, you think, that you choose not to spend your last moments under his crushing weight.) Stubbornly, his leg hooks more firmly over yours when you try to wiggle away, and his arm tightens around your middle.

“Stop moving,” he mutters.

“Move over.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” you whine, huffing tiredly. “Just move over a little.”

“There’s no space.”

You pause at his words in disbelief. Slowly, you lift your head from the pillow, squinting through the dark room. The curtains are cracked just enough to let a thin line of streetlight spill across the bed, pale and silver over the rumpled sheets. The other half of his bed is empty and untouched, just as you suspected.

Of course it is, when he’s abandoned his own side completely and migrated fully into yours. 

You turn your head to glare at him as you hiss, “You liar.”

He doesn’t even have the decency to look at you as you catch him in his lie. His eyes are still closed, his face still buried in your neck, and his breathing slow and warm against your skin. “Fuck off,” he mumbles. “We’re cuddling.”

“I can’t sleep like this! You’re completely on my side of the bed—”

“It’s our bed,” he instantly corrects, giving you a grumpy look as he cracks one eye open.

“It won’t be for long,” you snap. “I’m going to leave.”

He waits thirty seconds before smugly humming, “Still here, huh? Knew it.”

“Where else am I meant to be?” you hiss, trying to pry his arm off again. “I’m being held hostage here literally against my will!”

He snorts. The sound is small and half-muffled, but you feel it against your skin, and that somehow irritates you even more because he’s clearly enjoying himself. Even despite being disturbed as he tries to sleep (doesn’t he have an early patrol in the morning?), even despite sweating through the sheets with you (and just how is he surviving this heat so unbothered?), even despite being shoved at and scolded (when will he grow a sense of shame?), Katsuki is still having a good time simply because he’s annoying you. 

Your vein all but pops at the smug satisfaction he gets from getting under your skin.

“Katsuki,” you groan, going limp in his hold for one exhausted second. “Please. It’s so hot, and your quirk doesn’t help. Just get off—you’re so stubborn.”

His eyes finally crack open, narrowed and gleaming in the dark. For a moment, he just looks at you—hair messy, expression heavy with sleep, mouth pulled into that signature annoyed little line that it’s always tugged into permanently.

Then he clicks his tongue, offended. “Fine.”

The word is sharp and dramatic, and before you can even feel relieved, he releases you all at once and rolls over onto his back with a huff, taking all of his furnace-like body heat with him. The sudden absence should be a blessing. It is a blessing. You are relieved and can breathe again as cool air slides over your damp skin, and you can finally move freely without his arm compressing your ribs.

But Katsuki, of course, is not done being insufferable.

“So fuckin’ unbelievably rude,” he mutters to himself, purposely loud enough for you to hear clearly. “Always clingy during the day, crawlin’ all over me. Sitting in my lap ‘n stealin’ my food. But when it actually fuckin’ makes sense to cuddle, suddenly it’s a problem.”

You narrow your eyes as you pout, “I am not clingy—and you’re the rude one! It doesn’t make sense to cuddle in this crazy hot weather and die—”

“And if I said that cuddling you would kill me, then you’d send my ass to sleep outside. At least try to hide your fuckin’ double standards.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself. “He’s impossible.”

“I’m right here, too,” he grumbles flatly, turning to you, mildly offended.

You roll onto your side to face him, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him better. His arms are crossed over his chest now, biceps flexed, jaw set tight as though you’ve wronged him. (For someone who upholds the justice system of this country, you think it’s ironic of him to act that way—especially when he’s spent the last five minutes trying to suffocate you with his weight and body heat.)

You narrow your eyes. “Fine,” you click your teeth. His gaze cuts to you instantly as you throw the sheet off your legs. “You wanna cuddle?”

His eyes narrow suspiciously. “What’re you doing?”

“Exactly what you want,” you say sweetly, already moving. “You wanted to cuddle. So we’re gonna cuddle.”

“You—”

You roll on top of him before he can finish. All of your weight lands squarely against his chest as you sprawl over him, dramatically making a point to make your limbs seem boneless. One leg hooks over his thigh. One arm flops across his face. Your cheek smushes against his shoulder, and you make sure to go as limp as inconveniently possible.

Katsuki grumbles instantly, “Get off.”

“No,” you mumble into his skin. “We’re cuddling.”

His chest rumbles beneath you. “This shit isn’t how you fuckin’ cuddle, you damn idiot.”

You promptly ignore him, lifting your head just enough to shove your face next to his ear. Then you fake snore loudly. It’s an obnoxiously exaggerated replica of his own snoring.

Katsuki cringes before shoving at you (with little conviction). “Knock it off, moron!”

You snore louder, fighting back a giggle. His hand comes up to shove at your shoulder, but there is no real strength behind it. Not enough to move you, even though he easily could. Not enough to mean it, because he clearly doesn’t. His palm just rests there after a second, warm and broad against you, while he turns his face away like that might hide the way his mouth is starting to twitch.

You see it anyway—the small shake of his chest as the laugh he is trying very, very hard not to give you escapes against his will. You grin at the sight and snore again, right into his ear.

“Brat,” he snaps, but it comes out strained as he fights back a chuckle.

“Shhh,” you mumble, patting his cheek with the hand still flung half over his face. “I’m sleeping. You’re ruining our cuddle.”

“You’re ruining my life.”

“You’re the one who asked me out, so it’s your fault.”

“Well, I guess even I make mistakes.”

“So mean!” You gasp, lifting your head as you demand, “You’re saying I’m a mistake?!”

This time, the laugh actually breaks out of him. It is short and boyish, and it’s not something a lot of people witness. But you do—quite often, in fact, and you can’t help but melt at how sweet the sound is. Finally, you give in and properly curl against his chest, relieving him of the uncomfortable position your body is in over his upper half. Your eyes meet his, and you stare for a moment at each other before he looks away to the side. 

The tips of his ears are just slightly red, you think—but it’s too dark to tell for sure.

“Just go the fuck back to sleep,” he mutters.

“Sure thing,” you beam as you tuck your face into his neck and fake snore one more time.

Katsuki pinches your side. You laugh into his chest, and this time, when he huffs in annoyance, he does not bother hiding the smile.

His chest tightens.

“Listen.”

You look over, eyes brightening. “Yeah?”

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know what.”

“I don’t,” you say, smiling just a little.

He exhales hard through his nose. “You’re kinda making this shit hard for me.”

“No. I think you’re just stalling.”

“I’m not stalling.”

“You are.”

“I said I’m not.”

“Oh yeah? Then why’d we stop walking?”

You laugh as you ask, giving him that fond, endeared look that makes his chest hurt. (He loves you so much it hurts. Feels like his chest keeps expanding to make room for every reason why and you keep giving him more and more that he can’t fit. It makes it burst painfully every time.)

“…Just shut up and listen,” he clicks his tongue, then lets go of your hand. He takes a step back, reaching into his pocket. And it’s now or never, he tells himself.

It’s now. And it’s not going to be never if he has something to say about it. (He does.)

Your breath hitches as he pulls away, and now his heart is beating so loud he wonders if you can hear it over the ocean. God. You make him think he’s about to lose his mind.

His fingers are reaching into his pocket. The box, to his relief, is still there. He’s still a bit traumatized by the thought of it being gone—that much is clearly possible considering this morning. He grips it hard, takes a deep breath, and pulls it out. And before he can overthink it, before he can second guess a damn thing, he drops down onto one knee.

“Katsuki,” you breathe, tears already gathering in your eyes.

“Don’t start crying,” he mutters, opening the box. “Cry after the pictures. Raccoon eyes will kill me.”

You giggle—and it’s a sweet, watery little thing. Fuck. He loves it so much. He loves you so much. He loves and loves and loves and it’s hard to do anything else when you’re there.

The ring glints in his hands, and he pauses for half a second. Katsuki likes to think he has a good chance of hearing you say yes. He knows you’ll say yes. He’s not stupid. You’ve been waiting all fucking day to be asked and he’s smart enough to see it. But you deserve something good, something that’s the best—and he’s already gone and fucked things over. He can’t help but wonder if he even deserves to hear yes like this, if he deserves you and your love when he’s giving you nothing but a mess and—

—and then he looks up, and your eyes have never been brighter as they’re glassed over like that. It’s now or never, he decides. Mess or not.

“I had a whole plan for this,” he starts, scowling faintly. “It was s’posed to be smoother—I didn’t account for losin’ the damn ring like a moron this morning.” A soft, small giggle slips out of you. He huffs. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“I would never laugh,” you lie poorly.

He fights back a fond grin of his own. “You already laughin’, liar.”

You giggle again, smiling through tears. It’s so beautiful, your smile—and suddenly, his own eyes almost feel like…like they’re watering too. He fights back that stupid sting in his eyes and exhales, dragging a hand briefly over the back of his neck before steadying himself again.

“I had this plan,” he croaks.

“I know,” you whisper.

“I’m not done talking,” he huffs, pouting slightly. You close your mouth instantly, still smiling. “Jus’ shut up and listen.”

You nod quickly.

“I still have this plan. I’m gonna wake up, and you’re gonna be there. And then we’ll have breakfast, and you’re gonna almost drive me fuckin’ late because you have no sense of time. And then I’m gonna go to work and think about your dumb ass all day. And then I’m gonna come home, and you’re gonna be there.”

Your breath trembles. His stupid eyes blur.

“That’s my plan,” he continues. “I’m gonna wake up every day and love you. You’re gonna be in my space, usin’ my stuff, complaining about everything—”

You let out a shaky laugh, and the tears gathered in your eyes slip down your cheeks. He blinks his own god forsaken eyes and fights back that fucking stinging that’s driving him nuts.

“I’m not messing up this plan. Because you’re it, okay? You’re it for me and I love you. I’m not going to stop—you’re the only person I can stand all the time and you don’t drive me insane…usually. And you’re worth it. I’m gonna take care of you no matter what, and I’ll make sure you got what you need all the time. Because I love you. And I’m not stoppin’—ever—so you get used to it.”

You’re sobbing silently now. His voice is trembling. And now his stupid eyes are being traitorous because there’s a tear that slips down his cheek that he scowls and scrubs away with the back of his hand quickly. You throw your head back and laugh loudly at that, and fuck. Katsuki loves you. He loves and he loves and loves.

“Marry me,” he says softly. It’s the softest he’s ever heard himself. It’s borderline a plea, really—he might as well be begging.

But you beam, so bright and so happy—all because of him. Because of him and this mess that he’s offering you. It’s enough to make you smile like that, and that’s enough for him.

“I will,” you nod, “I’m gonna marry you and ruin your life for good.”

“Can’t wait,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes playfully before letting out a soft snort as he closes his eyes and adds, “for good. Yeah?”

“For good,” you nod.

The ring slides on—safe and secure this time—and Katsuki did not get shot down. You said yes. And he loves you. He loves and loves and loves and you love too.

He stands up, pulling you flush against him, closer than close as he cups your face and cradles it while his mouth presses against yours. That lip gloss he likes on you is smearing onto his lips and he’s pretty sure he just swallowed down your tears (definitely not his own) as he kisses you hard.

“I love you, too, by the way,” you whisper between rushed, desperate kisses. “Love you so much.”

“Good. You better,” he mumbles back.

Katsuki likes to think that his shot at a good future with you is pretty solid. He’s a mess, and you still didn’t say no. Things are looking pretty great for him.

“Yeah, that’s for sure,” he grunts.

Before you can even say something clever in response, small footsteps pad through the hall. It feels like every day, the footsteps are louder. Heavier. She’s growing and growing and it doesn’t stop. Not even for a day.

“Daddy, you’re home! I wanna play!”

He rolls his eyes. (He doesn’t mean it. You’d never thought you’d see the day where Sukuna’s eyes would light up at the word play, but he perks up every time. Your heart tickles against your ribs as it expands every time.)

“Always Daddy I want this, and Daddy I want that,” he complains, although playfully, “it’s never Daddy, what do you want? S’cause your mother made you into a mini version of her—now I got two brats.”

She giggles, holding her arms up for him to hoist up like he always does. He doesn’t hesitate, settling her on his hip. “Mommy says you like brats.”

“She did, did she?” He grunts, “Mommy’s just trying to make herself feel better about being a big one.”

“She’s a brat because of you,” you say petulantly, “all you do is spoil her, and now she’s used to it and—”

“So she’s like you,” he interrupts smugly. “Used to bein’ spoiled.”

“I’m not spoiled!” You argue.

(You are. You absolutely are. You are spoiled, and used to this soft, delicate side of Sukuna who lets you in and gives you more and more and more. You take and don’t stop, and he keeps handing pieces of himself over, even if he doesn’t always want to. You’re used to that. You are spoiled, and all you seem to want is him.

He doesn’t always mind giving it, though, you like to think.)

“What’s that?” Your daughter points to the shiny, plastic looking patch over his chest. She looks closer, intrigued, and he grins, puffing his chest out for her to take a closer look.

“Like it, princess? S’your design, remember?”

She grins, giddy and starry eyed as she nods furiously. “I want one too!”

“No,” he says instantly. “You can’t get one o’ these until you’re thirty.”

She pouts and whines, “But I wanna match!”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation as he says, “You even get your temper tantrums from your mother. C’mon, brat, let’s go play.”

You’ll get him back for that comment later. For now, you watch, heart full and pressing against your sternum hard from swelling.