It’s a quiet evening, and you’re lounging on the couch scrolling through your phone when hunger strikes. After a quick debate, you decide to order McDonald’s—easy, familiar, and exactly what you’re craving. Katsuki, your dearest most aggravating boyfriend, who happened to be sat nearby, with his arms crossed, noticed you fiddling with the app and immediately shot you a sharp look.

When you asked him if he wanted any, he responded harshly, “You’re really ordering that crap?” he scoffs, his tone as biting as ever. “Tch. I actually care about what I put in my body. I don’t eat junk like that.” He clicks his tongue in irritation and turns his attention back to the TV, mumbling under his breath about how people like you will never get strong eating garbage.

When the food arrives, you settle back on the couch, digging into your meal. The smell wafts through the room, and although Katsuki pretends not to notice, his crimson eyes keep flicking toward you. He shifts in his seat, tapping his foot against the floor in that telltale, restless way of his.

Then, without warning, his hand darts out and grabs a fry. He doesn’t say anything, just shoves it into his mouth like it’s no big deal. A second later, another fry is gone. Then another.

You pause mid-bite, silently glaring at him. He catches your stare and immediately glares back, his sharp eyes narrowing with that signature scowl. “What? You got a problem?” he snaps. “I’m your boyfriend. What’s yours is mine. Got it?” His tone is as demanding as ever, like he’s challenging you to argue.

He grabs a nugget this time, biting into it without an ounce of remorse. “Should’ve ordered more if you didn’t wanna share,” he mutters, smirking arrogantly as if he’s won some kind of battle. Despite his earlier rant about junk food, he keeps stealing bites, clearly enjoying himself far more than he’d ever admit.