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Katsuki knows that he signed up for it when he decided to be a hero.
For the popularity contest, and the screaming fans, and the online edits of him set to those loud, screeching songs about choking, or medically inaccurate CPR, or whatever the fuck, and it’s not—
It doesn’t bother him. Not really. He saves people, and he goes to the stupid fan meets even if it’s annoying as hell—mostly because Shouto pouts at him about it, about how it might be fun, this time—and he tells the delusional idiots who ask him to sign body parts to fuck right off, and then he gets to go home.
And that’s the fun part.
Having Shouto all to himself.
Getting to touch him. To hold him and kiss him and hear him yelp if Katsuki nips at one of his mochi cheeks without warning.
So.
He makes do.
Because if Shouto’s happy, Katsuki doesn’t give a single fuck what a bunch of faceless nobodies think about him.
But this time it’s not about him.
It’s about Shouto instead, and it’s Katsuki’s fault, because they were about to leave the venue, and then a bunch of morons that Katsuki didn’t even remember seeing in line at the fansign tried to crowd them in, and Shouto got overwhelmed from all the unfamiliar alpha scents, and he got this look on his face like he was three seconds away from crying, so Katsuki just.
Well.
He definitely didn’t mince his words.
And he rushed Shouto into the car, and he was scenting him and calling him baby and sweetheart the second the door slammed shut, but he wasn’t careful enough.
He just wanted to make sure his omega was safe.
And now all the trashy tabloids are full of the same grainy picture, all of three fucking pixels zoomed in where Katsuki’s hand on Shouto’s lower back made his shirt ride up.
He just wanted to get him in the damn car.
And now people can’t shut up about it.
There are whole ass thinkpieces on the nature of Shouto’s tramp stamp.
Shouto thinks it’s funny. He actually went and asked Katsuki, in full seriousness, with this cute little furrow between his eyebrows, if it still counted as a tramp stamp if they were mated when he got it?
And Katsuki’s mouth twitched, and he told him why, you want it to?
And then Shouto considered it, and he said maybe, and Katsuki just had to kiss him right in the center of his soft pink mouth.
You can’t see much of it in the picture, but there are, apparently, fervently dedicated fan accounts losing sleep and tearing out hair trying to decipher what it is. Shouto relays all this to him with painstaking detail, like it’s the evening news, and he gets this genuine twinkle in his eye when some stalker creep with ten thousand pictures of him and Shouto on his fan account gets it right.
He’s extra invested tonight, scrolling on his phone while he waits for the polish on his toes to dry.
It’s pink. Sparkly. Scent-free.
Katsuki presses a kiss to the top of Shouto’s head. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure. Tell me more. I’m dying to know what passionate defense of you obviously getting my name tattooed above your ass people have come up with today.”
“Well,” Shouto says, “I just wanted to do something nice for you.”
“The mating bite was plenty nice,” Katsuki points out. “Remember how you asked for it? All sweet and docile.”
Shouto nips at his wrist. “’m not docile,” he mumbles. “I’m a strong, independent omega.”
“Yeah?” Katsuki says indulgently. “Were you a strong, independent omega last night too? When you were begging for it?”
“Mm,” Shouto says. “I was, in fact, begging for it very independently. I did it all by myself. I even used synonyms.”
Katsuki laughs, can’t help it. “Brat,” he says. “You know I love you, right?”
Shouto nods. His hair tickles Katsuki’s chin. So damn independent he had to go and sit in Katsuki’s lap to do his nails. Not like Katsuki minds. Katsuki loves it. Katsuki loves him.
But it did surprise him when Shouto first got the tattoo.
Katsuki remembers him laughing, and saying he had a surprise, and then he asked if Katsuki wanted to see it, and Katsuki nodded, and his head spun when Shouto took his hand and led him to bed and laid down on his belly and said take my clothes off, alpha.
The mating bite on Shouto’s neck was still a little pink at the edges, back then.
And they were fresh out of U.A., and everyone said they rushed into it, but Katsuki just. Knew. For sure. That they wouldn’t regret it. That they’d make it. That he’d love Shouto forever.
And then he took Shouto’s jeans off and he saw the characters of his own name, so stark against Shouto’s pale skin, and his instincts took over, and he dragged his mouth up the notches of Shouto’s spine, kissed and nipped and bit his way like he wanted to mark up the bits of Shouto without his name on them too.
Which, to be fair—
He probably did, because he couldn’t keep his hands off Shouto. He still can’t.
“You know,” Shouto says now, “I asked the guy at the tattoo parlor if I should get like—property of? Above your name? But he said that was probably a little much.”
Yeah, no shit.
“I mean,” Katsuki says, “you probably would have ended up pregnant.”
Shouto twists to look at him. “Is that the only reason I’m not pregnant?” he asks. “Really? Hmph. Mean alpha.”
“Do you want to be pregnant?” Katsuki asks. “We could, you know. You definitely sit on my knot enough.”
“It’s a very nice knot,” Shouto says. “I should do it more.”
Katsuki bites his cheek. “Brat,” he says, again. “Yeah? You wanna sit on my knot more often? So we make you a mommy?”
“Mm,” Shouto says, “I think I’d be good at it. Nee-san's kids really like me. But that’s probably because I look like their mom.”
“It’s because you’re great with them,” Katsuki says. “You’d be great with our pup too, you know.”
“Are you sure?” Shouto asks. “We work so much.”
“We can work less,” Katsuki says. “Japan won’t crumble.”
Shouto hums. “Fair point,” he says. And then, after a little bit, “Do you want to?”
Katsuki laughs. “What?” he asks. “Now? What about your nail polish?”
“It’s pretty much dry,” Shouto says. “Come on, I really want to.”
“What happened to the begging?” Katsuki teases. “You were so good at it last night.”
And Shouto—
Shouto gets up just to plop back down into Katsuki’s lap, facing him this time, straddling him on the couch even if Katsuki knows damn well that that sparkly pink stuff isn’t fully dry yet, and he says, “Pretty please, alpha? Will you put pups in me? I really, really want to carry for you. It gets me all wet thinking about it.”
Well, that’s—
“Fuck,” Katsuki hisses.
Shouto laughs. “Mm,” he says. “Yes, Katsuki, that’s what the grownups call it.”
And, just for that, Katsuki scoops him up, and he carries him from the couch to their bedroom, and Shouto laughs when he puts him down, and he keeps laughing when Katsuki crawls over him to kiss him on the mouth, to press him against the pillows and take and take and take until he’s got Shouto whining from it.
“Alpha,” he says. “Alpha, please.”
“You still loose from last night?” Katsuki asks. “I can just sit you on my knot, right? You’ll take it like a good boy, won’t you, princess?”
“Yeah, I will.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I’m yours,” Shouto says. He wiggles a little until he manages to turn on his side, and then he tugs at the waistband of his sweatpants, and he says “See? I wrote your name and everything,” and Katsuki just.
Can’t help it anymore.
“Come here,” he says. “I should take a closer look. Check for authenticity.”
Shouto laughs. “It’s just me, right?” he says. “No duplicates?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki says. “Yeah, princess, just you.”
And then they don’t talk for a little bit, because Shouto might not need to be stretched open, but this is Katsuki’s favorite part anyway, so.
He puts his mouth to good use.
Because Shouto is his.
...
(Six months later, pictures of Shouto in a crop top with a baby bump and his sweatpants just low enough go viral, and Shouto very diligently tells him that the general public (meaning: their crazy fans) seems to think his tramp stamp is actually pretty cute.
And then he goes on a tangent about which shades of pink they could paint the nursery, and Katsuki listens.
Because he loves him.)