Bakugou gets invested really easily.
He loves to pretend that he doesn’t care about things, or get super interested, but you know better than anyone that when he wants to get his focus on something, it's almost impossible to break it.
When it's in your favor, it's addictive always having him hang off of you, burrowing his face against you, relishing you in affections only his closest friends would believe and having him eat out of the palm of your hand.
When it's on something else, however, it's torturous.
And yes, while you adore Kaminari Denki's enthusiasm for the first book he's read in four years, it now has Katsuki's full enthusiasm that he covers under a shroud of "like hell he's gonna read more books than me."
He's so full of it, it hurts.
Katsuki's read books in three days or less, tearing through them with ease after work; now, its his one-sunday-a-month off, and he seems completely content in sitting on the couch reading his damn book for hours.
At first you had no issue curling into his lap to rest, his big hand resting on your head and massaging your temple while you drift in and out of sleep.
But it's been four hours. You've woken up three times.
You try for a round of kisses, but he merely returns pecks with his eyes still on the book. You nip at his ear, but his shoulders hike up to nudge your face away. You offer him mewls of 'love you''s, and he grunts back.
You're dying here.
Huffing softly, you push yourself up and off of the couch, shuffling to the kitchen for a glass of water. There’s a small part of you that hopes he notices how annoyed you are and he’ll chase after you.
This, he does not.
With a soft snarl in your throat, you finish off the glass and toss it haphazardly in the sink, once again hoping it’ll rise some form of reaction from Katsuki.
He merely sniffles in the background.
You pace in the kitchen for something to break his laser focus. The closest you've come is when your phone rings back in the living room and he grumbles an annoyed 's' the fuckin' nerd.' You stomp into the living room for your phone, and Katsuki barely spares you a glance over his wire glasses.
Izuku's phone call keeps you all of 3 minutes, and your eyes watch for Katsuki's annoyed grumble and slamming of his book to stop reading and scold you.
No dice.
"Sorry, the oven's on fire, I'll call you later," you interrupt whatever he was saying and hanging up, tossing your phone on the couch next to your boyfriend.
"Why's the oven on fire?" He mumbles, turning the page.
"Because you won't give me attention," you snip.
"Ah."
God, you hate his rare nonchalance sometimes.
Out of options and minimal patience left, you move one of his crossed legs to rest flat on the floor and crawl into his lap, which automatically situates itself to keep your perch. Despite his subconscious action, he smacks his lips in frustration and merely turns the page in his own act of defiance.
“Can I help you?”
“You’re being annoying.”
This, finally, has currant eyes flicking up to you, a brow quirked in confusion and, maybe, just maybe, a glimmer of bothersome.
“I’m literally sitting here, reading. I’ve maybe taken a sip of my water and kissed your forehead while you napped. How the hell am I being annoying?” At his snap, you pout and cross your arms childishly, and he groans in the back of his throat with exhaustedly. “I didn’t mean to snap, baby. You brought that shit out of nowhere, I didn’t know sitting in silence could be annoying.” He dogears his page to give you finally give you his attention. You pout, and he gives you a small sigh, “come on baby; fuckin' talk to me.”
You huff petulantly, but you soften as massive paws smooth over the slopes of your hips. “It is annoying, when you’re ignoring me.” His hands stall, and you avoid his gaze. “I wanted to spend some time with you today, and all you’ve wanted to do is stay in and read… I know you like quality time and everything but I want to do something fun before you’ve got your hands full with work again.”
He rolls his eyes before rubbing his hands up and down your thighs, “so this is something you tell me, not pout and whine. I ain’t a fuckin’ mind reader.”
You turn your head in defiance, “wouldn’t have to say something if you’d stop focusing on your stupid romance novel.”
“It’s not a romance novel,” he says, trying to hide his amusement. “And don’t be fresh. I ain’t the only one at fault here.”
“But here I am- blaming you.” You try your hardest to fight back the smile tugging your lips.
“And you just can’t let me live for five minutes, can you?” He snarls, lips curled in a smirk as he leans forward to bite at the softness of your jawline. “Always gotta have my fuckin’ attention don’t you?” You giggle and shrink back slightly, but his arms tighten around you to keep you from going too far. “Nah. You wanna make a fuckin’ scene about how you want my attention? You’re goin’ no where.”
“Katsu, no!” You whine around giggles, his nose bullying past your tucked chin to nibble and playfully suckle at the tender skin of your neck, making the signals in your brain cross at the silly affections. Your hands shove at his broad shoulders in an attempt to make some distance, to no avail.
He’s got you right when you wanted to be.
“This is all you wanted huh?” He mumbles into your neck, scooting forwards on the couch to hook your legs around his waist. “You just needed me to snuggle and tease you soooo bad.”
“I do not!” You squeal, and your own fingers try to tickle his neck; it manages to get a few snickers before he gathers them in his own large palms and pins them between you.
“Fuck you,” he sneers. He does stop his torment before resting his head against the curve of your neck, and you mewl happily when you worm your hands out to wrap around his shoulders. “Cant have one fuckin’ second of peace.” He kisses the delicate skin of your neck lovingly this time, letting his hands soothingly run up and down the planes of your back. “Don’t get why you don’t fuckin’ talk to me about this shit, we’ve been together for years.”
You huff dramatically, “because you should know.”
“Yeah, we’ve established that I don’t.”
“Shinsou would know,” you poke, smiling as he tenses up and fists the shirt you’re wearing.
“Don’t you fuckin’ start.”
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“How come you get to ride in the cart?” He says, a pout in his voice but a smirk curling at his lips. Your hip cocks up as your arms cross over your chest, more than willing to duke this out with him in the entrance of the store.
“Uh, because I’m adorable?” Your words only make his grin spread even more, he knows he’s supposed to make an argument against that but he can’t bring himself to; it’s true, you’re perfect in every trace of the word.
But who was he to go down without a fight?
“But baaaaabe,” he whines further, folding his torso into the cart. “I’m so sore from practice and ‘Samu hit me with the ball and I’ve been walking funny since, and I just want my perfect, stunning, and oh, so smart-“
“Oh my god, fine, just get in the cart!” You snort, the giggles bubbling from your lips. He merely grins victoriously before scrambling himself up and into the cart, other shoppers watching in annoyance and amusement as you watch his knees fold up to his chest.
“Comfy?” You snort, to which he nods over enthusiastically. You roll your eyes before folding yourself over the front of the cart to plant a kiss on his head.
“What do you even need, anyways?” He hums, his head turning back and forth in the superstore, sharp eyes glazing over the shelves. You lean on the handles of the cart, looking around and making a beeline straight to the snacks, giving him a dramatic sigh as you do so.
“Well,” you hum. “I know you wanted m&m’s and popcorn, but I also wanted to grab a few bags of Doritos and since the fuckface I decided to let spoon me at night ate the last of my cookies,” your eyes glare dead at him, only to be met with a wide, toothy grin. “I need to buy more.”
“The guy who spoons you at night sounds hot.”
“The guy who spoons me at night sounds like I’m going to smother him with a pillow.” With that, you two make your way to the snack aisle, your eyes glazing over the contents of the shelves hungrily. “You want any drinks or anything?”
“Nah, I’ll just take whatever you buy.”
You glare at him, “that’s kinda the reason we’re in here in the first place, you clown.”
He snorts at the nickname before hooking his chin over the side of the cart, his sharp eyes flicking over the colored bottles and cans. “Toss me a grape soda.”
“Grape?”
“Yeah.”
“Mid,” you scoff, grabbing him a can to put in the cart. He blinks unamused at you, but ultimately keeps his mouth shut while you make your choice.
“Oh, but my choice is mid,” he teases as you plop a can of lemon lime in his lap.
“This flavor has been worshipped all over the world- you just like the taste of cough medicine or something.”
“My mom only buys the bubblegum flavored cough medicine.”
“Feral.”
The little back and forth you share passes the time as you turn the cart to the chips and Candy, and without sparing a second, you grab the Doritos and toss them carelessly into the cart, smirking as you hear them crunch against his head and body.
“You know, I may annoy you, but I am still in the cart,” he says, shielding himself from another bag of chips that you swat in the cart. When he turns his head up to glare at you, he sees the goofy smile spread over your cheeks, and he’ll happily get beat up by your snacks if it meant he could see it forever.
It’s simple. It’s comfortable, annoying each other throughout the aisles and laughing when the other makes a stupid jab, but Rintaro knows that this is all he’s worked up for. A domesticity that had to be crafted carefully, and he’s honored that you decided to map it with your love.
It’s nothing all like he’d expected love to be like- and now, it’s love he’d never change for anything.
“Get your cookies and lets get the hell out of here.”
“Why? Afraid we’ll miss another episode that we’ve seen forty-eight thousand times?” You jeer, steering the cart to the back wall, where all the cookies are tucked away. He decides to say nothing, merely letting your own joke make you chuckle.
He says you're easy to sedate like that. Really, he does it because the way you get the last word makes you happy.
He watches your lips pull back into an almost relieved smile, grabbing the box of cookies and nodding happily, all before turning back to him in the cart.
“Now be careful,” you warn, clutching the sweet to your chest protectively. “Suna, I’m trusting you with the most precious cargo in the cart. Do not blow it.”
“God, no need to bring out the government name, just give me the damned cookies,” he scoffs, making grabby hands and rolling his eyes when you hesitate. “And for the record, I’m the most precious cargo in the cart. Don’t even start with me.”
“You’re like. Fifth, on the tier list.”
“I’m going to fart on your pillow. Give me the cookies.”
You do, with another small smirk. "You want anything else, baby?" You ask, though you proceed to the checkout.
"Nah, I think I'm good, booger."
You hum and steer him to the self checkout, letting you bag the snacks while he passes them to you, citing you both as the "dream team"- which briefly collapses when you refuse to take his card to pay for everything and chuckling as he scrambles for the wallet tucked in his back pocket.
"You're annoying," he grumbles at your lack of acceptance for his chivalry.
"And you're squishing my snacks- you trying to sleep on the couch?"
Regardless, you push him out of the store and into the night air, and even if he'd rather chew on glass than admit it, the way your face relaxes at the feeling of fresh air makes him melt, and he smiles dopily until you jerk the cart.
"Okay. Get out."
"Huh?"
For a moment, just a moment, it's possible that Suna Rintaro forgot he's in the cart.
"Get out. I'm not wheeling you home, babe."
He sends you a playful glare before using massive hands to grip the side of the cart for leverage. He tries to push back, but his legs can't extend much farther out.
At this point, you're just watching, one brow cocked in amusement and tongue licking the corner of your mouth victoriously. If you didn't look so hot, Rintaro would be furious.
“Babe?”
“What's up, player?"
There’s a silence between you both. You're the absolute worst in this situation by barely even acknowledging his struggle. his lanky frame, still in the wired shopping cart, looks so cramped, and maybe, just maybe, if one of the Gods loved him, they would smite him down from the face of the earth right now.
You smirk, “problems?"
"I'm gonna cheat on you with Kita-San."
"Like he'll he's gonna want you when you're stuck in a cart you begged to be in."
He gnaws at his lip in focus, trying to will his knees to unbuckle from their position and out of the cart.
But they refuse.
He whimpers in his throat while you point and finally cackle at him, loudly, rudely, being absolutely no help in this scenario, and he finally hides his face in his bent knees in embarrassment.
“I’m stuck in the cart.”
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