Drawing Dkbk Every Day For The Month Of October Day 2: Bento

this is the best day of my life

LOOOORRRDDDD LET ME BREATHE ARGRBFJFJDKEKKEKWOWJWI????!!??!?!?!?!? shit so funny it got me dizzy from laughing too hard

can i get a man like this

AGHHH sitting on bf! katsuki's shoulders while he cooks to make up for skipping the gym.

katsuki was supposed to hit the gym today. he really was. but the moment you wrapped yourself around him in bed, all thoughts of training went out the window.

“shit,” he muttered, stretching his arms above his head. “didn’t even work out today.”

you, still groggy but entirely unrepentant, grinned and nuzzled into his neck. “you worked out your patience.”

"yeah? and you worked out my ability to say no.”

you grinned wider. “exactly.”

even after every time he tried to move to adjust himself, you clung to him like a koala, nuzzling into his chest, whining about how warm and comfortable he was. and damn it, how was he supposed to leave when you looked so damn cute?

so yeah, gym? skipped. gains? delayed. but cuddles? so fucking worth it.

now, in the kitchen, katsuki is making up for it. sort of. with you sitting comfortably on his broad shoulders.

he'd already deadlifted you a few times while waiting for the pancake to cook, grumbling half-heartedly when you cheered like he was performing in the olympics.

"you're way too happy about this," he muttered, flipping a pancake with precision despite your weight balanced on his shoulders.

"that's because you're my personal chef now," you teased, playing with the strands of his hair like you were styling them. "and i'm basically remy."

"tch... the rat from ratatouille?"

"yeah!"

he snorted, shaking his head slightly to mess up whatever you were doing. "the hell you are. you ain't cookin’ shit."

"excuse you! i am the mastermind behind this whole operation, thank you very much. you're just my hands."

katsuki rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide the smirk tugging at his lips. "yeah? then where's my little chef hat, huh?"

you gasped dramatically. "oh my god, we need to get you one!"

"like hell we do," he scoffed, adjusting his grip on your legs as he effortlessly lifted you up again, just because he could. you let out a small squeak, gripping onto his hair, and he chuckled.

"okay, okay, you're strong, we get it," you laughed, ruffling his hair. "now, my strong, muscular, incredibly attractive boyfriend—flip that pancake before it burns."

“i ain't lettin’ you control me," katsuki clicked his tongue but did as you commanded, all while holding you up like you weighed nothing. he should’ve gone to the gym today, sure—but honestly? this was way better.

"i practically do," you tug lightly on his hair, and to your delight, his head moves slightly in the direction you pull.

katsuki freezes. “...did you just try to steer me like a damn car?”

you laugh. “maybe.”

“hmph, you’re lucky i love you,” he mutters, adjusting your weight like it’s nothing. “but if you try to puppet-master me again, i’m droppin’ your ass.”

you grin, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “i love you too. and no you won’t.”

katsuki sighs, but you feel his shoulders shake with a quiet chuckle. yeah, okay, maybe he won’t.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ saw this on twt but i cant find the video again☹️☹️ hope you enjoyed!!💜

DANCE WITH ME

character: bakugou katsuki warnings: none i can think of, just kinda sad to sweet and very sentimental >.< words: 1.2k

synopsis:

”Years and years of Masaru begging his beloved son to listen and take interest in the things he did, before he eventually gave up. Katsuki didn’t even notice when exactly his father stopped asking him, wishing now more than ever he had listened. He wanted that outlet. He wanted to be able to find joy in tranquil activities. You made him want that.”

notes: i luv him so much i wanna die. i'm in the works for a spooky little AU for him as well as one for tomura so stay tuned for those im vv excited hehe

Growing up Katsuki's parents wanted him to be the best. To do everything. His mother wanted him to find art in more aggressive sports and hobbies. His father however, pushed for actual art. Masaru had a genuine joy for the peaceful and quiet, something of which he couldn’t enjoy as much as he’d wished for with the home he lived in. Nevertheless, in the seldom moments he had of quiet, he danced, and painted, and sat in the garden of their home, enjoying the moments he had to himself and his thoughts.  

As a kid, Katsuki hated how his father would get in specific “moods” where he just wanted to be to himself and his thoughts. He never truly understood it growing up, until he met you. You were so alike to his father; wanting to sit and enjoy the peace you had in random little moments and increments. It was such a foreign concept to Katsuki.  

He looked at you as if you were an anomaly. When the two of you had first begun dating, he just didn’t get it, who would want to be in areas of time where no one could sit and appreciate what you do. At least with volleyball, and boxing, and debate classes you earn respect for doing it and winning.  

He would sit and watch you in seemingly your own world, planting flowers, or annotating classic literature and be brought back in time to when he was 12 years old seeing his dad sit in the garden reading the same exact book with a pencil in hand. Certain foods you would make, and specific songs you would play would remind him of his father and how much Katsuki truly missed him. 

It was raining out the day he saw you swinging on the porch with a cup of tea and a book in hand, when he had called his dad. He wanted to understand it; he wanted that same peace the two of you seemed to hold so dearly. He wanted to bond over it.  

As a kid his father wanted him to take ballroom dance classes, was adamant it would be a healthy outlet to learn to express himself and to get lost in. Mitsuki and Katsuki were not big on the idea though, brushing it off and pursing their interests that more often than not landed them or others in hospital beds.  

Years and years of Masaru begging his beloved son to listen and take interest in the things he did, before he eventually gave up. Katsuki didn’t even notice when exactly his father stopped asking him, wishing now more than ever he had listened. He wanted that outlet. He wanted to be able to find joy in tranquil activities. You made him want that. 

“I'm going to my parents for a bit, want me to grab anything on the way home?” Katsuki stood by the door of the backyard, looking out at the back of your head, you sitting silently in a chair, rocking back and forth. “No, I'm okay baby. Thank you.” quietly muttered as if it were a secret, you don’t turn around. He doesn't want you to. He just stands for a moment more before muttering a quick goodbye and closing the door.  

The drive itself is weird. He doesn’t know if it’s age or if he was having an odd midlife crisis, but he doesn’t speak a word the entire drive, just quietly excelling forward.  

When he arrives at the house he had grown up in, spent every memory of birthdays and holidays, where he learned to ride a bike, where he had his first tooth fall out, every memory lingering in the air around the house, he just stands at the door for a moment.  

He doesn’t know what was different this time, but something was. Maybe himself. Maybe he had finally grown up. He was changed, and content with it.  

His attention is only brought back to the present tense when the door opens, and he sees his father's brown eyes staring back at him. Katsuki doesn’t know what comes over him, but without saying a single word, he gently pushes his way into the house and grabs ahold of his father. He felt like a little kid all over again. He just wanted to hug and talk to his dad. He wanted to take those ballroom dance classes. He wanted to bond with him. 

So that's what they did. Masaru was a man of few words most his life, keeping relatively quiet and to himself, but coming completely out of his shell with his son now. He had taught Katsuki everything he wanted to learn with a small smile and a joy Katsuki had never seen in his father.  

By the end of the night Masaru had grabbed an old record and put it on the player, having classical music whirl throughout the house, before turning to Katsuki and teaching him how to dance. Mitsuki watched quietly, quieter than Katsuki had ever seen her, with a smile and tears gleaming her eyes, happy she could see her two favorite people bonding in ways she knew her husband had always wanted to with him. 

Katsuki felt closer to them, he felt as though he had truly understood family finally. He drove home with a smile, a calm, content smile that had rarely graced his handsome face, cheerful all the way up the steps to the home he shared with you.  

Opening the door, he knew his perspective had changed, knew that life was different, a good different, and that he was fortunate enough to share it with you. You had this lopsided smile on your face when you had seen him walk through the door, raising an eyebrow and walking closer to him, covered in little raindrops.  

“I assume you had a good night at your parents’ place?” Helping him out of his jacket, you move to hang it on the rack before he stops you and interlaces his fingers with yours. “Let's dance.” he says simply, looking down at you with a look in his beautifully light eyes that gleamed and shone in enamor and affection.  

“What?” you laughed, taken aback and smiling even bigger, “Yeah, I wanna dance with you.” Tossing his phone onto the counter, the same song his father played for him started to drift throughout his new home, the home he shared with you, the home in which he held dearest of all, simply because you existed in it. you were his home.  

Grabbing ahold of you like his dad had shown him how to, he started to sway slowly, leaning his head against yours, and tightening his grip on your hips ever so lightly. He looked so odd, there was no anger, no irritation, no malice in his features whatsoever, just pure contentment. You wanted to live in this moment for the rest of the days you two had together, falling in love with him all over again.  

Katsuki Bakugou was great at many things, but as he grew and matured, he became great at understanding life, and how much peace was truly worth, especially if it meant this is how he could spend the rest of his life with you.  

i think as adults it’s our responsibility to be nice to kids and treat them with the respect we wish we got at that age and im not kidding or exaggerating in the least

Japan playing the Haikyuu!! theme song after beating Argentina in volleyball is so iconic

he said no 😡

katsuki is trying really hard to maintain his nonchalant act throughout the day.

as soon as it hits 12am, he frowns at being woken up by texts from many of his friends wishing him happy birthday.

in the morning, his parents video call him to show the embarrassing childhood pictures they've kept. "congrats brat, you're old. let's have a proper celebration during the weekend," mitsuki grins. katsuki flips her off before ending the call.

walking through the halls, he hears "happy birthday, senpai!" "happy birthday, bakugou!" every few seconds. he merely grunts in response.

in the afternoon, he's stopped by all might, who asks to eat with him. they spend their lunch talking about katsuki's progress and well-being. "i'm very proud of you, bakugou-shounen. i wish you a wonderful birthday," all might utters softly. katsuki nods and excuses himself first.

he's the first to stand up when class ends, about to leave when he suddenly feels someone ruffle his hair. "happy birthday, problem child," aizawa sighs. "take better care of yourself, huh?"

when he reaches the dorms, he's surprised by confetti and cheers from class 2A, 2B, some students from shiketsu, and some of his alumni. they bring out a big cake and sing really loudly on purpose to embarrass him. everyone comes up to him and thanks him for all he's done and how much they've inspired him. katsuki leaves barely an hour into the party.

he rushes to his room and locks the door, ignoring denki's complaints of him being a 'party pooper'. he turns around and jumps at seeing izuku sitting by his bed with a present.

"oh," izuku blinks in surprise. "hi! i didn't expect you to be up here so early."

"izuku," katsuki jolts. "what the hell are you doing here? weren't you just downstairs?"

"well, i wanted to give you my gift personally," izuku laughs, "and your room seemed like my only chance of finding you alone." he walks up to katsuki, gives him the box, and envelops him into a tight hug. "happy birthday, kacchan. we've been through a lot together, haven't we?"

katsuki pauses before hugging back just as tightly, his vision clouding. "a bit overwhelming," he mumbles.

both of them know immediately what he's referring to: the genuine attention, affection, and admiration he's getting today. in the past, the wishes he'd get would be along the lines of 'you're going to grow into someone with the strongest quirk,' only ever noticing his capabilities and future potential, but never him.

this was his first birthday after the war, and also one of the first birthdays in a while where he's around people who truly care about him.

"everyone's just happy they could spend kacchan's birthday together like this," izuku hums, closing his eyes with a grateful sigh as he rubs katsuki's back soothingly. "me too. i'm really, really happy."

oh what the fuck

ᡣ𐭩 ⎯⎯⎯ BBVERSE: WHAT’S IT GONNA BE? shoyo’s ipod: chinese satellite ♪ phoebe bridgers

HINATA SHOYO MADE THREE PROMISES, AND HE BROKE ALL THREE OF THEM. on most days, hinata was easy to predict. he wore his heart on his sleeve—never worried too much about what other people thought of him. yet he cared what you did.

during his first two years at karasuno, you would get nothing but radio silence every time he lost a game. no texts, no calls, no warnings. he would just show up to school the next day, back to how he was before. then.. there was that one day. there were red rims around his eyes, all puffy like he’d been crying, and the kind of slump in his shoulders that comes only from regret.

“if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” he had said, told you he didn’t want you to worry. told you he wished he was thicker skinned. always the hypocrite, wasn’t he?

he held a water bottle, the red one he used for volleyball. the lid was missing. he wore those sneakers he bought in middle school—with all of his savings. two sizes too small, worse for wear. there were frays and scuffs that weren’t there when you last saw him.

so you made him promise. “keep whatever you want from me, but when you do tell, never lie.”

you met hinata’s mother at the interhigh prelims, held his younger sister natsu’s hand the entire game; played tic tac toe between sets. by the time the referee blew the whistle, they both called you family.

the same orange haired boy who kept your missing hair-ties on his wrist, who cried when he forgot the candles for your birthday cake, who held you when things fell apart, now held something else: a trophy, a team, and the world. you held his pride.

he sprained his wrist during the match, became left handed that winter. he started calling you more. it’s hard to type with an injured hand, as his excuse. you went away for the new year, spent december in osaka with your family. he called you even more.

hinata always picked up on the first ring, you picked up on the second. you knew something was wrong when you had to call twice before he picked up.

on that day, he told you about brazil.

he told you about his day first. told you about waking up before the sun did, running up the steep road to the school with kageyama to get early practice in for the spring championship. he found a rock that looked like you, brought it home. told you that he tried a new onigiri flavor. apparently, pickled plum is devil spawn.

this whole routine had turned into his everyday ritual—a customary habit, if you will. hinata told you about his day, and you told him yours. yet on that particular call, there was something off.

when you spend enough time with someone, their behavior becomes language. tiny cues carry worlds. the spaces between seconds, subtle pauses between laughs. you could almost imagine him picking at his callouses—the ones that splayed across his palms, decorating his hands. he was nervous.

you asked, and it didn’t take long for him to budge.

“have you ever seen a sunset in rio?” he said, more olive branch than question. kiyoko had mentioned professional volleyball players finding themselves in south america, returning an entirely different person. she mentioned it in passing; in conversation.

turns out, first year hinata held onto that. he sent you a screenshot: a travel blog by a retired athlete, big sparkly letters stuck to the headers. one stood out.

THE FUTURE OF VOLLEYBALL: WHY YOU SHOULD TRAIN IN BRAZIL! Spend a year training on Rio De Janeiro’s famous coasts, learning from local players and seasoned pros who know the game inside and out. Join a welcoming community, and experience the unique blend of culture and sport. Unlock your full potential. Don’t you think.. click to read more

there was that word again. potential. no one worked harder than shoyo did, no one wanted it more than he did. you knew he felt stuck, wanted more space to grow. he told you himself. you could hear him waiting over the speaker, eager to see what you thought.

cue the second, “promise me, that you’ll call. text.”

“I will.” he answered, zero hesitation.

“come home.” you breathed.

he hesitated, then answered. “I will.”

“pinky promise?” you made sure.

“yeah,” he smiled. “with a kiss on the thumb.”

and so you let him go.

airports do business best in april, at the crust of summer. students board last minute flights; graduates clip their wings free. hinata’s mother, glassy eyed, hugged him and threatened to fly over there herself if he didn’t eat well. like she ever had to worry about it.

with you, his arms never withhold. hinata’s never held you harder. but it wasn’t as long as it needed to be. he draped his jacket over you, the black one with ‘fly’ in bold japanese brushstroke on the back.

then he went to brazil—chased his dreams. with his suitcase full of sparks, heart missing you.

on january first, your phone didn’t ring.

BRAZIL BOUND TAGS @gojotech @chososcamgirl @yell0wdreams @bktooo @quikhs @nekozaki @dazzlingakaashi @dazqa @asrichin @primaverx @haezen

A/N not fully proofread, a lazy write to get this out of my drafts, I love you bbverse I promise I still do.. I’ll come home again soon..

Pro Hero, Pro Momma, No problem?

((TW: post partum issues, body self esteem issues, talk of breastfeeding, negative talk about self. Minors DNI.))

Katsumi was *adorable*. At 4 months, her carmine eyes had come in beautifully, and her full head of (h/c) hair, the same as yours swirled and spiked on her pretty little head.

She cooed as you fed her, for the 3rd time that night. Being an exclusively breast fed baby meant you were a milk machine 24-7.

Which also meant Katsuki was free to do his pro hero work at any time.

When he went back to work (a week. The workaholic went back on patrols a week after Katsumi was born. You were less than pleased.), you obviously had taken the brunt of...everything.

Sure, Mitsuki and Masaru visited and helped where they could- but you were the food source, the comfort, the *mother*. And at her age? Mom trumped everyone else.

However, the big day was about to happen. You were going to have a day to yourself, and Katsuki was going to take you out to dinner. Katsumi could take a bottle, thankfully-so she would be watched by Katsuki's parents.

You had taken a maternity leave from your pro hero work, so you hadn't really been outside (aside from Katsumi's doctor appointments) since her birth.

And it was nerve wracking. As you put her back in her bassinet, you couldn't help but worry.

What if you got engorged?

What if Katsumi was inconsolable?

What if she got sick?

What if she-

The door clicked open slowly. You sat up quickly, a hand hovering over Katsumi's sleeping form, ready to protect her.

"Relax. Its me." A familiar gruff voice said, unusually quiet. You let out a soft sigh.

"Katsuki. Geez." You sighed. He began to peel his costume off.

"I got about three hours of sleep I can get in before next patrols. So can you make sure the brat doesn't wake me up?" He asked, and you withheld your tongue.

As if you had gotten any consistent sleep the past months.

"Sure." You said quietly, settling back into bed. He ruffled your hair.

"Thanks. Night." He slipped in, and soon enough he was out.

You wanted to cry. Scream. Wring that stupid neck of his.

You took a breath. Maybe you shouldn't go out. Katsumi needed you here. Right?

No, you needed this. Everyone insisted.

So why did you feel so bad about it??

A few hours after Katsuki left for his agency, Mitsuki and Masaru came by to pick up Katsumi. As you adjusted her carseat once more, you began to explain things. You reached over, taking the bag you had packed that early morning.

"So here's three bottles and some frozen milk in case she wants more. Every three hours she gets like, about 5 ounces-so a full bottle, but she can eat more!" You said, handing Mitsuki her diaper bag, packed to bursting with everything you thought she might need. Mitsuki eyed the bag.

"This is....really heavy!" She chuckled, a bit suprised at the heft of it.

"Better overprepared than under!" You smiled. Masaru and Mitsuki looked at eachother.

"Right, well. We'll be off. Don't worry about a thing, (y/n)! She's gonna be just fine!" Mitsuki said, tapping the hood of their car.

Katsumi made a noise, and you flew to her side. "Oh, it's okay! You're gonna spend time with grandma and grandpop!!" You cooed, and Katsumi looked disgruntled. You frowned. "M-maybe...I can get her to calm down if I'm there-"

"(Y/n), relax!! You're running yourself ragged! Katsuki told us you barely even bathe! That's no good!" Mitsuki pushed her back to the door of her and Katsuki's apartment. "Just leave it to us! Katsumi's in great hands!"

"Okay. But my phone's on! And if I need to feed her instead of the bottle-"

Mitsuki closed the door. You stared at the door blankly, and heard the engine of their car roll away.

Well.

You stared down at the genkan, then shuffled a little. You gave a sniff in the air.

Oh. You smelled like milk, sweat and diaper cream.

Maybe...a bath couldn't hurt...

You hadn't really *looked* at yourself in the mirror for a hot minute. You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your eyes looked tired, baggy and slightly red. Your skin had dry patches all over, and was.. that a pimple?? Your hair was dull and dry, but that wasn't the worst of it. You backed up, looking at your torso.

Oh god.

Where there was once a toned stomach, now was soft. Squishy. And...what were those lines?!

Stretchmarks!? Well. That made sense. And your boobs?? Once decent and perky, now like pancakes, nipples cracked slightly. Breastfeeding did a number on them, that was for sure.

What had happened to the sexy, pro hero (h/n)?? You barely recognized yourself. You felt like a pile of flesh, flabby and used up. You found yourself squatting down, flopping on the small shower stool. You felt the rolls squish and undulate as you sat down, and you felt worse. You quickly showered yourself off, avoiding looking at the mirror. You didn't even want to look at your...nether regions. It probably wasn't too good-looking either.

As you set yourself in the tub, you couldn't seem to enjoy it. You felt like a cow, probably smelled like one, and you were certainly producing milk like one.

No wonder Katsuki worked constantly.

"No, stop that." You said to yourself. Katsuki wouldn't be so vain. And he *cried* when Katsumi was born. There was no way he wasn't happy with his new little family.

You tried to think positively. As you got out of the bathtub, you dried yourself off quickly, going to the bedroom.

You had been wearing pj's and lounge clothes for months. You wondered if you could fit into your regular clothes now.

You stared at your jeans. "I'm sure I can fit into these..." one leg in, and the other followed.

Tight. You struggled with the button. Did....did your hips get wider?? You were careful during pregnancy with what you ate, and stayed active. And even though you still had to eat more calories due to breastfeeding, you hardly ate junk.

But here you were, barely fitting into your old clothes before the pregnancy. Once you squeezed yourself in, you grimaced.

Muffin top city. Population? You.

You immediately shucked off the offending material. You threw open your closet.

Soon, piles of your pre-pregnancy clothes were piled on the unmade bed. You had slid down the closet door, naked and feeling even worse than before. Nothing fit right. You didn't even want to think about how your hero costume would fit once you came back from maternity leave.

Would anyone even take you seriously?

You felt awful.

You swallowed back tears, and slowly got up. You went to your dresser, picking out a nursing bra and your maternity underwear. You felt like a leaky grandma, with the granny panties covering your pooch, and the bra wasn't exactly meant for a sexy lift, either. You slipped in some nursing pads, and grabbed some maternity pants and one of Katsuki's tshirts.

You threw your hair up in a messy bun, and went off to pump the milk now making your breasts feel tight.

Katsuki found you on the couch, snoring away. He kicked off his boots in the genkan, looking up at the clock. 5:39. "...Babe?" He looked down at you, leaning onto the back of the couch.

He sighed. He knew you needed the break. You probably hadn't slept right in months. He went to pull over a blanket over you, until he saw two dark spots on your chest.

Uh oh.

"...Oi, (y/n), wake up. Yer leakin'." He said, shaking your shoulder a little. Your eyes fluttered open, and he smirked. "Hey. You got a situation." He pointed to your chest. You looked down.

Crap.

You felt your boobs and sighed. You were full. Again. "Let me...go pump. I'll be back." You sighed, throwing off the now soiled shirt and bra, turning away to go to the bedroom.

Katsuki looked. He smiled softly at you.

There was the woman who he fell in love with. The woman who was the mother of his child, who he watched become something even more amazing than a hero. A mom. He remembered it like it was yesterday. You, giving birth to his child-sweat, tears and blood, shouting only once or twice in exhaustion. You had held onto his hand like a vice, he had never seen such determination from you. Not even when you did your pro hero work.

You were a goddess. You were amazing. You were *his*.

Not once did he see the flaws as flaws. Stretchmarks were like his scars from his high school years. Badges of honor. Your softer form felt warm and so *right*. And your boobs? Well...he had often gotten unusually jealous of their daughter once or twice, let's just leave it at that.

You felt his eyes staring at you. You turned. "What?"

"I love you."

The room went silent. Katsuki usually only said those words when something big was going on. Like their wedding. Or when she told him she was pregnant. Or when Katsumi was born. It wasn't because he didn't love you, no-far from it. He was a man of action and little words when it came to romance.

You found yourself crying. You crouched to the floor. He went to you, wrapping you up in his arms.

You found yourself word vomiting.

You found yourself admitting to him all your pains, your dark thoughts, your feelings of inadequacy and self loathing. He didn't shush you. He just rocked you back and forth as you cried.

You didn't think motherhood would be so lonely, so...sad. You didn't know if your old self would come back or not.

"What're you saying? Of course it won't." Katsuki suddenly said. You blinked away tears.

"H-huh?" You stuttered.

"I mean...You're always gonna be you. But...you also changed. You have to. People change all the time. You just....changed in a bigger way. You're a mom now. You can't stay the same. But..." he sighed. "Youre...You're beautiful. You keep getting more and more beautiful, and I..." he rubbed his forehead, his other arm still holding you to his chest. "...I feel like I'm falling in love with you all over again." He mumbled, ears turning red. You found yourself blushing. He swallowed. "Look, I'm shit at words-you know that. But where you see all that crappy stuff, I see a warrior. The woman I fell in love with all those years ago back in U.A . I see who you've become-and I still don't get how you can make me act like a lovesick idiot, even now. Dammit, woman!" He huffed. "You don't even know what you do to me, and here you are, thinking you're some sort of fat cow?! That's not just insulting to you. That's insulting to me." He suddenly narrowed his eyes. "How dare you insult my wife and my child's mother."

You trembled. Suddenly, you felt that hot, gooey feeling in the pit of your stomach. He scooped you up, and you squeaked. "K-katsuki! W-wait! I'm top less and I gotta pump-"

"Oh. Don't worry about that, babe." Katsuki smirked. "I'll take care of that...". You blushed. As he walked into the bedroom with you in his arms, you suddenly realized what he meant.

Oh dear.

((Okay. This is purely self-indulgent. As a mom with a now 15 month old, I really poured myself into this. What reader is experiencing I totally felt, and still felt. I actually cried a little when I got to the self depreciation scene. Because that was me. It's still me. Post partum is a bitch. Motherhood tested me so much, and still does. It probably won't make much sense to you till you actually go through it, but it's crazy. Ironically, I was breastfeeding my kid while I wrote half of this. So...maybe this is also a love letter to myself and to any mom's on here still trying to find themselves. Also, you can't tell me Katsuki wouldn't be crying silent tears while holding his kid, you just can't convince me otherwise. Should I do a part two?))