KIYO

your oldest son gazing out the plane window and yuuji in the middle, watching a cartoon on the screen attached to the back of the seat in front of him.

papa!kento nanami who is the designated family photographer. whether it’s candids or shots you pose for, he rarely asks to be in the photos himself.

he likes to be the one capturing the moment. making sure it’s perfect, timeless, making sure when he looks back at it, everything is just right.

papa!kento nanami who eventually gets dragged into pictures by you. they usually result with you carrying yuuji, kento behind you and holding choso close to him.

papa!kento nanami who abandons his book and ends up watching you play with the boys in the shallow water. the hem of your dress soaked. choso’s nose reddened from the sun. the sand that mysteriously got all over yuuji.

papa!kento nanami who gratefully accepts the handful of shells yuuji dumps in his hands every few minutes and tucks them safely into his shirt.

when one of the shells yuuji picks up is actually a small crab, he screams so loud it catches the attention of others.

yuuji ducks behind your long, flowy skirt and watches intently as choso picks up the crab.

“yuuji, look,” choso cups it in both of his hands. you smile and card your fingers through yuuji’s hair.

“it’s fine, sweetheart.” you crouch and yuuji stands in between your knees, the material of your dress still balled up in his tiny little fists.

“papa!” choso exclaims and shoves his hands in kento’s face.

“this is what scared you, yuuji?” kento hums and yuuji nods, sniffling and wiping his nose.

“it’s okay, it’s okay,” you nuzzle his chubby cheek and kiss his temple.

“say bye, yuuji.” choso gently grins before placing it back in the sand. the crab quickly buries it’s way back underneath the waves and disappears.

“bye…” yuuji mutters.

papa!kento nanami who lets yuuji have ice cream before dinner.

papa!kento nanami who regrets it hours later when yuuji won’t go to sleep.

“papa…” kento turns at the sound of yuuji shuffling out the balcony door towards him in his little dinosaur pajamas.

“hey, buddy.” kento scoops the pink haired boy into his arms and lightly pinches his cheek. “can’t sleep?”

“no, come lay with us.” yuuji says, placing both hands on kento’s cheeks.

he looks back inside, where you and choso had dozed off on the couch, his head in your lap and a movie still playing in the background.

“okay.” kento smiles.

papa!kento nanami who would give the world to see you three happy.

dad!satoru gojo who is almost just as, if not even more excited than your children, tsumiki and megumi.

dad!satoru gojo who buys the three of you individual outfits and accessories to wear to tokyo disneyland based on your favorite disney characters.

dad!satoru gojo who dramatically tears up at the sight of little megumi with brown bear ears inspired by koda from brother bear.

dad!satoru gojo who smothers tsumiki in kisses when he sees her dressed up as cinderella in a baby blue dress and light blue mickey ears.

dad!satoru gojo who insists you two have to match and it has to be something that makes people turn heads.

“toru, no.” you glare at him, folding your arms over your chest.

“what???” satoru exclaims. “no, baby, please,” he wraps his arms around you and drags you towards him.

“i’m not carrying a lizard around the park.” you turn away from him and he rests his chin on top of your head.

“pascal is a chameleon!”

dad!satoru gojo who buys you mickey ears of decorated like princess rapunzel and buys himself flynn rider ears.

dad!satoru gojo who buys mickey shaped ice cream sandwich bars before lunch and earns a sharp glare from you.

“open wide.” satoru taps the cold treat on your lips and watches with a wide smile as you slowly part your lips.

“mommy, mommy!” tsumiki tugs on your hand and bounces on her heels. you look to where she’s pointing to see numerous disney characters walking around and waving.

“mickey! and minnie!” the little girl giggles, practically dragging the rest of you over to them.

“and look, gumi, the balloons!” megumi gazes up and his small hands wrapped around satoru’s slender fingers barely tighten.

dad!satoru gojo who places tsumiki on his shoulders, carries megumi on his hip, and holds your hand with his free one during the afternoon parade.

tsumiki screams in enthusiasm every time a character waves at her, and megumi softly smiles when a character points in his direction.

dad!satoru gojo who on the second day of the park coordinates an entire outfit for the family. you as princess ariel, him as eric, megumi as sebastian the crab and tsumiki as flounder the fish.

dad!satoru gojo who gets ridiculously jealous over an actor doing their job.

you four are eating dinner before the fireworks show in front of cinderella castle. megumi is quietly eating and swinging his feet above the ground while tsumiki’s minnie plushie she chose earlier rests in her lap.

tsumiki suddenly gasps and tugs on satoru’s sleeve. “dad, aladdin!” she smiles as the actor approaches your table.

“hey, little guy.” the aladdin actor kneels in between megumi’s and tsumiki’s chairs and grins at him.

“hi.” megumi mutters through his food and taps his spoon on his plate.

“are you two enjoying the park?” aladdin says, looking between the children.

“yes!” tsumiki practically vibrates in her seat.

“hmm, have you heard about what’s happening tonight?” aladdin hums and looks at you and satoru before going back to entertaining the two kids.

“what?” megumi asks, suddenly more interested in aladdin than his food.

“genie’s giving three wishes to any children in the park tonight,” aladdin mock whispers. “but only to those who are good for their parents.”

“i think they’ve been pretty good, right, megs?” satoru hums, ruffling his black hair that was already messy from the wind after riding the spinning teacups three times in a row.

“what’s one wish you’d make?” aladdin turns to tsumiki who immediately looks to you.

“i want… my mommy to..” she pauses to think and your smile widens at the idea of her immediately thinking of you.

“i want my mommy to go on a magic carpet ride with me.” tsumiki says.

aladdin turns to you and takes your hand. “really? would your mother like that?”

“that sounds like a good idea.” you catch satoru glaring at you two in your peripheral vision and try not to burst out in laughter.

“let’s see… you’re dressed as ariel, aren’t you?”

“and i’m eric. the one ariel is married to.” satoru grumbles.

“do you prefer being in the sky or underwater?” aladdin asks and you shrug.

“well, i am afraid of heights.”

“mommy held my hand really tight on the plane!” tsumiki announces and a light pink tint glazes over your cheeks in slight embarrassment.

“well, that’s fair,” aladdin then stands up and puts his hand’s on the back of megumi’s chair. “jasmine was a little scared the first time i took her flying.”

“now she loves it, right?” megumi asks, peering up at the actor.

“she does, little man.” aladdin flashes the children a toothy grin before walking off to the next table.

“i don’t think the characters are supposed to interact with guests that long.” satoru huffs and you reach over the table to grab his fingers.

“you’re a real big baby, you know?” you smile.

“but mommy, you almost cried on the plane.” megumi looks up at you and earns a nudge from satoru.

dad!satoru gojo who then sticks his tongue out at you like the big baby he is.

━✧˖° ʚ🌠ɞ ✧･ﾟ : *✧ ･ﾟ: *. ・ ･ﾟ: ೃ࿔ *:･ *·˚ ᝰ̟۟

Before your fingers can even curl around the plastic handles, a large hand sweeps in, batting yours away with a gentle but unmistakable firmness.

“Don’t touch 'em,” Sukuna rumbles, a sly, knowing smirk tugging at his mouth as he steps right into your space, his massive frame blocking out the entire grocery counter behind him.

“I can carry the light ones," you protest with a little huff, crossing your arms as you look up at him. "The bread isn't going to break my arms."

"I said I’ve got it, brat," he chuckles deeply.

To prove his point, he gathers up the handles, looping the heavy canvas bags full of milk jugs, protein shakes, and soda bottles over his forearms, stacking plastic bags up his arms until they nearly reach his elbows. The lighter bags with bread, produce, and paper towels, he scoops up with his remaining fingers, refusing to leave a single thing for you. By the time he’s finished, he’s loaded down with the entire week’s haul in one stubborn, showy display of strength, looking for all the world like a pack mule who refuses to admit defeat.

A satisfied grunt rumbles out of him as he turns toward the automatic doors, and you can’t help but laugh softly, falling into step behind him, hands completely empty. He’s forced to walk a little slower, balancing the absurd volume of bags, and watching his broad shoulders shift beneath his hoodie, you’re hit with a sudden, ridiculous rush of affection that leaves you grinning like an idiot.

The walk to the very end of the parking lot row suddenly feels far too long to be spent walking apart from him.

Matching your pace to his long stride, you slip in beside him and glance down at his hands, completely swallowed by a sea of plastic handles.

"Kunaaaa," you call out, dragging his name out in a soft, teasing whine.

He doesn't look away from the car waiting in the distance, but his head tilts slightly toward you, tracking you out of the corner of his eye. "What?"

"Why aren't you holding my hand?" you ask, pitching your voice into the most exaggerated, tragic pout you can muster.

Sukuna stops dead in his tracks, planting himself right there on the open asphalt, weighed down by the mountain of groceries you insisted on. The sigh he lets out is so exasperated and dramatic that it practically makes you roll your eyes, but when you look up, you catch the twitch at the corner of his mouth, a fond, reluctant grin threatening to break through.

He stares at you like you’re the most ridiculous creature he’s ever met, then, with exaggerated slowness, shifts his wrist under the mountain of bags and wiggles his pinky free from the mess of handles, holding it out for you to take.

"There," he mutters, voice thick with the familiar blend of fondness and utter defeat. "Take it."

A bright, triumphant giggle bubbles up from your chest as you step in close, wrapping your whole hand around his thick finger. Satisfied, you set off again, tugging him along down the parking row like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Walking like that, you catch a few elderly ladies heading for the entrance openly grinning at the two of you, while a couple by their trunk tries—and fails—to stifle a giggle at the sight. The two of you must look completely ridiculous: this hulking, broad-shouldered man with face tattoos, arms overflowing with grocery bags, being led across the asphalt by his tiny wife clinging to just one finger.

Catching the stares, Sukuna lets out a quiet, amused huff, but falls right back into step beside you, his heavy footsteps perfectly in sync with yours. His pinky stays in your hand, hooked tight around one of your fingers, not loosening for even a second as you both make your way toward the car.

"You're completely shameless, you know that?" he murmurs down at you, crimson eyes softening with fondness as he shakes his head, clearly exasperated but unable to hide how your antics get to him. “Spoiled brat.”

"You can’t be mad for that when you’re the one who made me this way,” you chirp, happiness bubbling in your voice as you lean your shoulder into the solid weight of his loaded arm, just for a heartbeat before pulling away again.

"And look what I got for it," he grumbles, but the massive grin splitting his face betrays him completely, turning the complaint into something almost proud. "A wife who makes me carry twenty bags and still demands a hand to hold."

"Oh? Makes you? You can always let go if it's too much work," you tease, intentionally loosening your grip just a fraction to test him, watching for the inevitable reaction.

Sukuna’s pinky tightens instantly around your finger, a low scoff rumbling from his chest as you both finally reach the bumper. "Like hell I am. You're stuck now, angel. Pop the trunk."

His mom appeared from the kitchen like a storm front, wiping her hands on a towel. Her sharp eyes - identical to her son’s - widened when they landed on you, then narrowed at Katsuki.

“Katsuki! You bring your girlfriend home and don’t even text me first?! I look like I just crawled out of a villain fight!” She gestured at her casual house clothes, then turned to you with a bright, slightly frazzled smile. “You must be the one he’s been muttering about. Come in, come in! I’m Mitsuki. Ignore my idiot son’s lack of manners.”

Masaru waved at you from his place at the dining table, “Welcome. We’ve heard… bits and pieces.”

You bowed politely, cheeks warm, “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m sorry for the surprise visit-”

“Surprise?” Mitsuki cut in, rounding on Katsuki, “Someone has the audacity to drag his girlfriend over unannounced like I run a damn hotel! I haven’t even started dinner properly!”

Katsuki stepped in front of you slightly, bucking up to his mother out of habit, “For fuck’s sake, woman! I don’t bring her home, you get mad at me, and when I do you get mad too! Cut me some slack, you old hag-”

“Katsuki Bakugo.”

The whole room stilled in an instant with the snap of your voice - the only sounds coming from the worn A/C unit and the birds outside. Masaru hid a growing smile behind his cup of coffee. Mitsuki didn’t bother to mask the look on her face - first shock, to fondness when she looked at you, then an expectant look back at Katsuki.

Katsuki, for what it was worth, was stiff. Frozen in place - shoulders high and tense - looking like he’d rather be fighting All for One than turn to face you.

You gave him approximately two seconds before flipping him around yourself, one hand pointing a finger in his face, the other twisted in his shirt collar. “You will speak to your mother with grace, or so help me God I’ll make sure you have no choice but to crawl back home.”

His face twisted, “But, she-”

“No,” you spun him back around to face Mitsuki - who was sporting a small smirk, arms crossed, “Apologize.”

He gestured to Mitsuki, looking at you over his shoulder, “Babe, she knows I don’t mean it- Hey-!”

You stepped to his side, grabbed his ear, and pulled, voice laced with venom as you growled at him, “Apologize to her. Now.”

He clenched his jaw, but made no move out of your grasp - hunched over almost halfway. He glared at his mother, words coming through gritted teeth, with an edge of sarcasm you knew you could never fully sand away, “Sorry. Or whatever.”

Mitsuki opened her mouth to speak, but before she could you tightened your grip, making him wince, “Try again. Like you mean it.”

You heard him grumble under his breath, eyes squeezing shut in frustration for a moment before sighing deeply, “...I’m sorry, Mom.”

You beamed - kissing his cheek, smoothing his shirt and letting him go all at once, “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Mitsuki burst out laughing, a loud, triumphant sound that filled the house, “Holy shit, she’s got you whipped already! I love her.” She wiped a tear from her eye, then pulled you into a fierce hug. “You’re staying for dinner. No arguments.”

Katsuki rubbed his ear, glaring daggers at the floor, “Tch. Whatever.”

You pinched his side lightly, “Watch your tone. That’s your mother you’re speaking to.”

He stiffened but bit back whatever retort was brewing. Masaru hid his grin behind his coffee mug.

The evening settled into a surprisingly warm rhythm. In the kitchen, Mitsuki kept up a steady stream of stories about Katsuki’s childhood while you helped chop vegetables. Every time Katsuki tried to snap at his mom - “Stop running your mouth, hag” - you’d shoot him a warning look or tug his sleeve.

“Try again,” you murmured the second time, voice low but firm.

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tight, “…Can you pass the salt. Please.”

Mitsuki’s eyebrows shot up, but she handed it over with a smirk, “Well damn. Miracles do happen.”

Dinner was lively. Katsuki sat glued to your side, his knee pressed against yours under the table like a silent claim. When he started to bark at his mother about her overcooked rice, you cleared your throat pointedly.

He caught himself, snapping his jaw shut mid-sentence, cheeks flushing. “It’s… fine,” he grumbled instead.

You smiled and squeezed his hand. His ears went red, but he didn’t pull away.

After the meal, while Mitsuki and Masaru cleared plates (insisting the ‘lovebirds’ relax), Katsuki hauled you upstairs to his room. The second the door clicked shut, he crowded you against it, forehead dropping to yours.

“You’re such a pain,” he muttered, but there was no real heat in it - only fond exasperation. “Making me act all polite like some damn extra.”

You cupped his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks, “She’s your mom, Katsuki. She deserves respect. I’m not letting you talk to her like that, not in front of me.”

He groaned but leaned into your touch, “Yeah, yeah. I get it.” His voice softened, almost shy, “…Thanks. For handling my dumb ass.”

You kissed him slow and sweet, feeling the tension melt from his shoulders. When you pulled back, he was smiling softly - a small, crooked thing meant only for you.

Downstairs, Mitsuki’s laughter echoed up the stairs. Katsuki rolled his eyes but laced his fingers with yours, “Guess you’re stuck with all of us now.”

☆ — AKAASHI

good girls. he likes a girl who will play with his hair and read with him. a girl who will stay up late when he’s at work for a few extra hours. a girl who will gladly let him devour you for as long as he wants. he likes when you get all whiny and squirmy, but of course you’d never push him away whenever he spews encouraging praises at you, gently shushing you whenever tears start to roll down your cheeks.

"so good for me… shh, calm down, love."

☆ — KUROO

semi good semi bad. he likes a girl who can have a little attitude, but will still get on her knees whenever he asks. it’s a bit cute whenever you get mouthy with him, but it never lasts for long. a simple kiss and a redirecting word, and you’re melting for him.

"why are you being so difficult, babe? cmon, i know you can be good."

☆ — KENMA

good girls. bratty girls are too much work, and he doesn’t always have the energy for it. he likes girls who will play games with him and cuddle up in bed with him all day. and a girl who will ride him without complaint when he’s feeling too sluggish to do any work.

"you’ll ride me? really? …that’s sweet."

☆ — NISHINOYA

somewhat bratty girls. he likes the chase to be honest. it’s endearing how you try to act like your little panties don’t get wet whenever he’s around. don’t worry though, he’s very determined. he‘ll have you under him eventually, taking his cock with rapid thrusts.

"think it’s funny making me wait? hm?"

☆ — HINATA

good girls. loves a girl who will cheer him on during his beach games, even when the hot sun is beating down on you. especially loves a girl who will let him fuck after a loss— or even a good win. he likes to get the rest of his adrenaline out, or let his frustrations out. whichever one he needs, you’re there waiting to bend over, offering your tight cunt.

"gonna let me fuck you, baby? yeah… as a reward for the win."

☆ — DAICHI

good girls. as a police officer, it only makes sense that he’d enjoy a nice, sweet girl that listens to him and doesn’t cause any trouble. might be okay if you were teasingly being a brat, just as long as you go back to being his perfect girl once he gets his hands on you.

"you’re cute, babe, nice try."

☆ — KYOTANI

both. he kind of needs a girl who can keep up with his attitude, he can’t handle a girl that’s too soft and sweet. a girl with a bit of feistiness to keep him in check, but also a girl who will be patient with him. he definitely prefers someone who is more pliant while getting fucked though. the way you just move into whatever position he wants, and the way you whine and cry his name is all so addicting.

"take your panties off and turn around."

hi! thanks for reading :)

It always starts like this when Giyuu can’t think straight. His brain is fuzzy and worn out from the day. He often wonders how he gets into these positions, but he’s aware that you just know him too well. Probably because you do know him better than he knows himself.

He always thinks about the time before it became you and him. Where the thought itched at his brain constantly. He fantasized about it. It was so hard not to in every waking moment, he even wondered if it was going to be the death of him.

But here he was, nose buried in the crevice of your neck, laying onto you just enough that he didn’t crush you; but you’d never complain if he did. His free arm wrapped around your midsection just enough to allow his hand to grip your side. The pads of his fingers barely dig into your skin. You could probably feel the tension in his body, his hands are firm and rigid against you. Perhaps he’s just a bit nervous you’d disappear if he didn’t hold onto you tight enough. He might apologize for that, or the fact that his hair is definitely in your face.

Oh, but you might giggle. He can hear it. It’s soft and light. You're so amused by him sometimes. You might call him silly, or you might not say anything at all. You might give the sensitive part of his scalp a good scratch to shut him up. You might, and you always do. The feeling of your nails dig into his head makes him squeak. The way your fingers brush against the strands of his hair. It’s heavenly. He buries his head deeper because he’s so embarrassed. His face is hot, and after all this time he’s still so touched-starved. The smallest bit of your attention destroys any functioning brain cells he has left.

It’s just so good being in your arms. It’s just as good as when you're in his. It’s rare, but when that happens he loves the weight of you on top of him. It grounds him back down to earth. And you’re so cute. Somehow you always end up holding his hand, holding it close to your chest and nuzzling yourself against him more. He can’t get over that you want to be around him as much as he wants to be around you.

Giyuu lets out a sigh in contentment.

He’s so tired but he’s so excited. It’s not his fault that he views you as perfection and it’s also not his fault for taking advantage of the attention you desperately want to give him. You’re so generous, and Giyuu had been looking forward to this for days. His mission had been taking too long for his liking and he wondered if this was some sick torment the universe enjoyed toying at him with. All he wanted was to be at his estate, with you.

But you were such a night owl and that was something that Giyuu found out pretty quick. You spent more time awake in his presence than he did with you. Giyuu thinks, and he wouldn’t be wrong, that you try to savor as much time as you can with him. It’s true, you wouldn’t deny it. But you had sleeping problems long before being with Giyuu; though, it makes him feel guilty that he somehow makes it worse.

You were crocheting something, as always, trying to tire yourself out mentally. Your hands working on the project were raised just above his face, and your elbow could be found resting against his upper back. It was so soothing, the way he could feel you working your hook in and out of the stitches. And every so often a stray piece of yarn might’ve brushed against his cheek or nose, tickling him ever so slightly.

It felt nice. The way you had him caged in your arms. He felt so protected and Giyuu couldn’t remember the last time he felt so safe.

He doesn’t know what you’re making; but he’s sure whatever it is will be perfect.

One day he’d get you to sleep though. Yes, he’d get you to drift off so peacefully and do the same to bring you just as much comfort that you do for him. He’d play with your hair. He knows you’d like that. He can almost see it now. The cute noises you’d make and the content, sleepy sigh you’d give as he has you wrapped up in his arms.

He’s in and out of sleep now, drifting off for a few minutes at a time. But he really can’t stay awake anymore. Even though he really wants to. He feels you put your crochet things to the side. However, he barely registers the mumble under your breath when the metal hook makes a ‘TINK’ sound when it’s placed.

It wasn’t too loud but it was too loud for you. You apologize, softly whispering to him but honestly, Giyuu doesn’t know what for. It didn’t disturb him, though he doesn’t worry too much about it when you give a little kiss on his forehead.

He snuggles closer, if that is even possible at this point. He’s on auto pilot as you bring the covers up more over the both of you. You tuck the material right up near his chin and the only thought he has is how cruel it was to make him get up tomorrow morning. Maybe you give him a few more kisses. They’re delicate and you even give him a gentle squeeze as you bring your arms around him; a small ‘love you’ is drowsily whispered through your lips as you rest your head on his.

And Giyuu is out, just like that.

“mmm… apple. but peeled…” you whisper, voice small and hoarse, eyes half-lidded and glossy.

“of course, peeled! only the finest fruits for my fevered little dumpling,” he gasps, hand dramatically on his chest like he’s been knighted for a sacred quest. there’s a shine in his eyes—something starry, something stupidly in love.

he tucks you in like a burrito, tugs the blankets up to your chin, and then scoops you onto his lap because apparently that’s where you sleep best. his fingers comb through your hair, slow and tender, while your cheek rests limp against his shirt. he puts on your comfort show, even though you barely keep your eyes open long enough to register the sound.

he hums something soft—tuneless and low—while cradling you like a fevered woodland creature. his tone dips lower when he leans in again.

“do you still love me even if i’m gross and sweaty and my nose is red?” you mumble, lips wobbling, brows pinched like the thought genuinely upsets you.

his hand smooths along your cheek. “i love you way more,” he says instantly. “you’re my sweaty, sniffly soulmate. cutest germ gremlin i’ve ever seen.”

“you’re lying…”

“baby, i would kiss your snotty nose right now if you asked.”

there’s something almost reverent in the way he says it—like it’s a vow. and he means it. he’d do it without hesitation, wouldn’t even flinch. because if it’s you, there’s no such thing as gross. not when he’s this stupidly in love. not when every part of you, even at your messiest, makes him want to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

you groan into his shirt, muffled and pitiful, and he grins like you just serenaded him.

“who’s the most handsome man in the world?” he asks out of nowhere, fingers curling behind your ear, brushing tenderly as if coaxing the answer out. his voice dips low, honey-sweet and just a little smug. not because he expects the answer—no, he needs it. his entire self-worth depends on your silly little validation right now.

“you are,” you mumble, cheeks squished slightly against his chest, nuzzling closer without shame.

his fingers twitch where they cradle your skull. his whole face lights up like a sunrise. pale lashes flutter, and his pupils dilate like he’s just been told he won a lifetime supply of you.

“louder.”

“toruuuuu… it’s you…”

the pleased little noise he makes is downright sinful. his lashes flutter shut as he closes his eyes in smug bliss, and he tilts his head back like he’s soaking in the warmth of your praise. if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

“that’s right,” he beams, practically preening, fingers now stroking under your chin. “say it again. for my health.”

“you’re the handsomest… in the whole world… even when your hair’s stupid…”

he gasps, clutching his chest with a hand like you just shot cupid’s arrow straight through it. “rude and true. i’ll take it.”

his heart is doing somersaults. he’s convinced there’s never been a more fulfilling moment in his life. not the promotions, not the accolades, not even the recognition. just this—this feverish little version of you, croaky and honest and too tired to pretend you’re not as in love with him as he is with you.

he whispers the dumbest, softest shit while holding you against his chest like you’re something sacred. calls you every pet name in the book and then invents new ones on the spot: baby, sweetheart, princess, dumpling, snugglebug, fever bean, coughy cake, angel face mcsweats-a-lot.

you blink up at him between fits of sleep, lips parted like you want to say something else—but all that comes out is a pathetic little whimper. his hand smooths over your spine again, touch featherlight.

“what was that, baby?” he whispers.

“love you…” you murmur, eyes falling shut.

his heart flips. flips, spirals, and lands in a fucking somersault.

he kisses your temple and you go quiet.

and when you finally pass out, nose smooshed into his collarbone, snoring faintly like the most adorable little gremlin, he exhales like it’s the best moment of his life. like the universe aligned just for this. like his purpose has been fulfilled. his hand never stops moving—stroking your spine, combing your hair, tracing shapes into your shoulder blade beneath the fabric of his shirt.

he lives for clingy, soft, unguarded sick-you. because even though he adores the bratty, sharp-tongued, little menace version of you that picks fights and flicks him on the forehead and makes him earn every kiss—this version? this sleepy, dependent little furnace wrapped in blankets and his love? she needs him.

and satoru loves being needed. loves being the one you reach for, even when you’re half-delirious. especially when you’re half-delirious.

he leans down again, voice barely audible now.

“four. handsome. deliciously so. body and face. rare,” bakugou laughs, boyish and booming, “thanks, babe.”

you feel uncomfortable, perspiration dribbling between your breasts, limbs heavy with exhaustion.

“what is that? what are you reading?”

still bakugou ignores you and continues reading from the paper, “five. successful and ambitious. six. good friend even though he pretends he’s not. protective!! seven. so gentlemanly, holding open doors, paying for dates, very clear on why he likes me.” ruby pupils flicker over to you, “that last one is bare minimum.”

then it clicks, about seven points too late. your head snaps over to him robotically, eyes about to fall out of your head. “where the hell did you find that! stop reading it! stop katsuki!”

you hop up from your seat on your sofa, speed like no other taking over you as you run across the room to grab at the paper in bakugou’s hands. his laugh only booms louder, holding the flimsy sheet in the air over your head as you jump like a child.

“seriously, don’t read anymore!” you shout, trying to hoist yourself up his larger body, using his arms and shoulder as a climbing frame.

nothing about bakugou budges, he just continues reading with the paper in the air.

“it’s getting good, baby!” he laughs, ignoring your jumps and furrowed brows, “eight. listens to me. really listens. makes me feel heard and remembers what i say.”

he looks down at you, whose fingertips are slapping the bottom of the paper. you recognise it all too clearly now. the pink ruled lines, the edges ripped out from one of your old notebooks. your handwriting. “that’s cute. i still listen to you, don’t i?”

“you’re not now! give it back!”

“i’m almost done, two more,” bakugou says, hooking his arm behind your back to keep you locked close to him. you’re both sweaty and sticky. you’ve got no choice but to listen, “nine. cooks. such a good cook! you added five exclamation marks there. ten. fulfils some of my love languages. some?”

“now stop.” you urge. he can’t turn the paper around. he can’t.

bakugou pecks your forehead, his cheeks blushed with all the compliments. he continues skimming the list, rereading it. 

“so this is why you chose to date me, huh?” he looks down at you, pouts his lips, “c'mon gimme a kiss.”

if you just grab it out his hands, he won’t see the other side. with pros always comes—

he stops pouting at you.

“give me the paper. i wrote this all a few years ago!”

“if these are the pros, where’s the cons? you must have done a cons list.” 

you shake your head, side to side. he holds the paper away from you. the opposite side, the list of all your cons, written back at you. you loop out of his arm, trying to reach for it.

he notices you staring, eyes fixated and that’s when he flips the paper around. CONS in big red capital lettering.

“this is private! you weren’t meant to see this, you shouldn’t be snooping in my room!” you squeak but bakugou’s already half down the page, pupils running across every line like he’s in a race.

“one. WILL choose his job over me—,”

“well obviously, your job is to save the world!”

“two. odd relationship with his mother? but apparently it’s better than before.”

“it’s so much better now!”

bakugou’s eyebrows drop now, voice getting lower as he continues, “three. argumentative. argues with EVERYONE. his agency workers, the media and his friends.”

“i understand why you argue with them all now! it makes sense!”

“three. his job is terrifying.”

bakugou looks over to you, solemn narrowed eyes and you don’t have a positive word to say about that.

“it is, sometimes i don’t know if you’ll come home.”

“four. he doesn’t do much else besides work. all his friends are from work.” bakugou pinches his nose bridge, “really? you think that?”

“now i don’t! and i know they’re childhood friends and… and we do things together all the time. i know you love to read, game, you’ve got your lego. i didn’t know all of that then.”

“five. don’t know if my friends and family will understand.” bakugou steps away from you, “the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

you huff on the spot, “this was from when i met you! all they’ve seen of you is shouting and yelling on the television. they didn’t know how lovable you are. how well you treat me.”

bakugou looks at you, then back at the paper. scratches his head. “six. inexperienced with sex but it’s really cute. has never had a girlfriend?”

“but number one pro is that you know how to use it. obviously we’re experienced now, we know everything about each other,” you flick your finger between you and your boyfriend. 

“and the girlfriend comment? i can’t help the fact you’re my first.”

“no, i mean yes i know that. it was just a question as to why. it doesn’t mean anything to me now.”

“but it was a factor in whether you wanted to be my girlfriend,” he states.

“well, yeah,” you drawl, “i thought maybe there was a reason as to why. that’s all.”

bakugou raises his eyebrows, looks back at the sheet, “seven. doesn’t always have time for me. travels a lot for work.”

“that hasn’t changed.” bakugou grunts. it’s something he knows you struggle with while dating him. it’s even been a conversation you’ve had a few times throughout your relationship. quality time. you want to spend more time with him but he simply can’t. 

you sigh, grabbing his chin between your fingers so he looks directly at you. his eyes are half lidded, cheeks red and exhausted from the negativity and heat. “we’ve been through this. i’m still gonna stick by you, everything i love about you means more than all the things i find difficult.”

he takes your palm away from your face and squeezes it. but you can tell he’s feeling off. “the last one. eight, he’s surrounded by beautiful women all the time.”

“you’re with celebrities, pro heroes, socialites a lot,” you shrug, “that was jealousy on my part, nothing to do with you.”

“i don’t give a fuck about any of that.”

you nod sharply, “i know! i wrote this a while ago, two years even? a lot has changed.”

bakugou sighs from the pit of his stomach, then flings his head back in a huff. “fuck, baby.” he groans.

then he looks down at you, looking up at him.

“just wanna put it out there, that was private, you weren’t meant to see that, my opinions have now changed and i’m sure you had a mental pro con list for me. i just wrote mine down.”

bakugou folds the paper, “yeah, yeah, i get it. you hate my job that much, huh? it covered half of the fuckin’ cons.

“i also said i liked you were successful and ambitious.” you sit on the back of the sofa, crossing your arms. 

bakugou mirrors you standing, crossing his arms too. “but nothing about my job has changed since we’ve got together.”

you groan, leaning your head on your shoulder, “katsuki, i think you’re making problems out of nothing here.”

“you made a list of the problems with datin’ me.” he frowns, holding the folded paper between two fingers.

“and a list of the reasons why i wanted to date you. obviously the good reasons won if i’m with you now.” you glare at him with a sharp tone.

he begins to pace around the room, paper still in hand. a terrible sign. you watch as sweat trickles down his skin, body flush with heat.

“but, babe. the problems you’ve had with me from before we were dating are still problems now. i still don’t have time for you, you still are terrified every time i’m minutes late from a mission, you don’t think i’d choose you over my job and you don’t think i do anything but work.”

you moan aloud, “and i still want you despite that all. i get the world needs you, heck, i need you if i come across a villain. i don’t hate you for being a hero.”

he stops behind you, on the other side of the sofa, “i don’t want you to resent me when you realise you could have been with someone who does have more time for you, isn’t obsessed with their job, can put you first and doesn’t scare you.”

you hop off the sofa. leaning your forehead on his collarbone. “katsuki. i wouldn’t be here if i didn't want to be. i love you. i choose you everyday. i don’t want to argue with you.”

bakugou doesn’t touch you. there’s a shake to his voice, “i’m sorry i’m not better. i’m gonna try to be. just wait for me, fuck, maybe when i’m slower and the younger lot take over, they’ll need me less. it’s just now—,”

“it’s okay. you have time for me right now but you wanna argue with me," you pout up at him.

“you did put that i’m argumentative,” he looks away from you as your hands link around his neck. 

“look at me.”

shiny lava red pupils find you. you ground him, takes him out of the what ifs and the failures of his past and places him in the present with you. 

“i have dated bakugou katsuki for two years and i love him so much. i love how kind and generous he is, always putting his loved ones first. how he dedicates his life and body to saving the world. how even if he’s tired from a long week of working, he still comes over to cook me a three course meal because he wants to see me eat his food. who was so open and willing to change for me. to change his routines and learn my body. who is argumentative because he wants to make things right. who wanted so hard for my family and friends to love him and manages to see his mother once a week just to check up on her.”

you search in both his eyes and he’s listening, he always is.

“i can write an updated list for you, if you want.”

he shakes his head, stuffs his forehead into your neck and slowly pushes you down into the sofa. you laugh, his hands plastered into your waist as his body crushes you in the plush cushions ever so slightly.

“‘m sorry. i shouldn’t have read it. even though i enjoyed the pros.” he muffles, lips tickling your skin.

you tap his shoulder. “you shouldn’t have but it’s okay. i still need you to get my fan. it’s hot.”

“promise you’ll tell me if you want somethin’ to change between us. i’m not wakin’ up one day to you leavin’ me for a reason right under my nose.” he urges and you can see him pleading. the desperation for you to agree.

“promise. now you promise me.”

“course i promise. i couldn’t even fill out ten reasons as to why i hate you.”

“i didn't say i hate you. and sure you can. you hate my cold feet. you hate how i moan about my job. you hate how i hate your job. you hate how i always want a massage. you hate how i wait until the last minute when you’re tucked up in bed for you to get me a glass of water. you hate how i’m indecisive for what i want for my birthdays and—,”

bakugou sits up, “i don't hate any of that shit. love listenin’ to you and half that shit is cute as hell.”

you pout, “you hate when i wear low cut tops out—,”

he frowns, “that’s foreplay, baby. you let me suck your tits after to make me happy. couldn’t give a shit what you wear.”

“how about how protective my friends are? and the fact i tell them everything?”

bakugou shrugs, “you deserve friends that love you that much and that you can tell everythin’.”

“i get snappy when i’m running late or too much is going on or i’m hot.”

with that bakugou gets up. your fan. though not without hovering over you to give you a peck. then another. you press your soft lips against his though you don’t open up because then you will get even hotter and snappy.

he pulls off you and rises from the sofa, “that makes sense, baby. you’re stressed and uncomfortable.”

you roll your eyes, “stop being so understanding!”

he walks towards your bedroom, but not without turning around to look at you. his fingers grip the door frame, “i love you.”