also bakugou picking you up in the evening at the end of his run. like you just had a library club meeting or gym class or a uni lecture or a class on something and he picks you up after his run. he says he will because he’s gonna pass your building anyway (he’s not but he’s changing his route now so he does) and he meets you holding his water bottle, t-shirt slung over his shoulder and all sweaty. five inch shorts and running shoes. airpods in his ears. oooweeeeee. big muscled and fine. as soon as he sees you he starts talking. something about the roadworks or what he just saw on his run.
he’s slightly out of breath, waiting at the exit where you come out, “i saw foxes around the corner. fuckin’ loads of ‘em.”
you kiss his cheek and he ducks to kiss yours, “hey katsuki.”
he hums, “hey baby.”
“did you get any pictures of the foxes?”
then he walks you home showing you the photos on his phone.
it’s one of those fridays after work where you rush home to get ready for your date tonight. you’ve only texted your date once today when he texted first with only,
You still good for tonight?
you were definitely still good for tonight. blasting your favourite tunes as loud as possible as you shuffled yourself in a dress that definitely wasn’t weather appropriate— but making up for it with a cute cardigan under your jacket.
now it’s the part you always hate with dates. the bouncing on your feet, a little jig to somehow conserve your body heat’s your fluffy black jacket is wrapped tightly around your waist, with your shoulders lifted so high they practically reach up to your ears. your dress might be short but your boots reach up to your knees and still you’re freezing cold. your heart raps against your chest like you’re about to give a presentation in front of a crowd of people. despite the chill that swipes down your spine, you’re now paranoid a sweat patch has leaked through your cardigan with nerves.
this was your idea to go on a date with your boyfriend but to travel to the destination separately. usually he always drives to pick you up or you for him, but you read somewhere that this anticipation, these nerves, this anxiety is fun for a relationship.
but also you’re excited to see him. what did he decide to wear tonight? will you both like the food? who pissed him off at work today? what will he say about your outfit?
you only saw him yesterday morning but with only a few texts shared between you both today, it feels like a first date. you didn’t think you’d be feeling this again since your first once with katsuki.
also you forgot how much you hated being early and not knowing what direction he’s coming from. knowing he could be watching you without you even knowing. you whip your head from left to right like you’re being stalked but really you’re waiting for the spiky blonde head top of your lover.
your hand is lingering near your bag, about to pull out your phone to send an impatient text when he appears like magic. softly jogging over to you in his long black trench coat which you love to call his ‘kdrama coat’. he was confused at first but after showing him a slideshow of multiple actors in korean dramas wearing the same jacket, he could only pout. “still gonna wear it.”
it feels like you’re in a kdrama now. life in slow motion as he jogs effortlessly, not even out of breath and not a crease in his black shirt. his black slacks still hold a neat black pleat down the centre of his long thick muscled legs. there’s a bunch of pink flowers in his hand and you feel almost positive they’re peonies. bakugou katsuki’s got a soft little closed mouth smile on his lips, having already noticed you before you noticed him.
the blonde slows down, stopping right before you and that’s when his teeth are revealed. a smirk that’s anything but innocent and two ruby gems for eyes that linger on you. his attention heats you right up.
“hello beautiful.”
everything about him is overwhelming for the average person. insane height, insane build with his chunky biceps and bread roll of abs you know is under his shirt. he’s got a face made for magazines with his dewy clear skin and that gorgeous scar that runs across his cheek. he could be the lead of a drama, getting the part purely on his visuals— fuck being a pro hero. this is your romantic male lead. he makes your eyes dramatically roll back just from how good his spiced cologne is.
“hey katsuki,” you hum, stepping so close you’re toe to toe with him. if anyone else was watching, you’re sure they’d say you’re staring at this man like he hung the stars. “why were you running?”
a menial question because he’s doing a lot for you right now. a scratch of his stubble against your cheek as a soft kiss lands on your jaw. then a hand swoops around your waist bringing you in for a hug.
bakugou katsuki was nothing like this on your first date. then he was awkward, excessively swearing, occasionally stuttering and so unromantic. this is a redo, exactly what he should have done if he held the same finesse he has now.
“i knew you were getting pissy waitin’ even though you came early.” you gasp at the word but not a part of you cares when your arms wrap around his waist under his jacket meeting his hug. a kiss on the top of your head, “i got these for you to make up for it. romantic as fuck, right?”
you roll your eyes but it is.
“well i do like peonies,” you mumble but your grin is rising fast. you grab at the flowers stuffing your nose at the top to give them a sniff, “thank you baby.”
“anythin’ for you. now get inside, i saw you freezin’ miles away.” his hands are on your waist, discreetly shoving you in the direction of the door, “next time wait for me inside.”
“i don’t like sitting alone inside!”
“then don’t be so early.” but he can’t get his hands off you, another kiss to your cheek. a soft sigh tumbling through him at the vanilla scent that passes his nose when he does. you mindlessly let go of your jacket, your short pink dress appearing. there’s a slight glitter to it, one that has bakugou fixated. it’s a satisfied grunt that leaves him at the sight of you. when he stands right under the spotlight of the restaurant, you notice how the red of his iris shrinks and his pupil expands, “you look so good. gorgeous.”
his fingers feel at your dress like you’re an art project, “really pretty. i like it.”
you laugh as he’s distracted, about to open the door but he’s quick to do it for you. the heat of the luxury restaurant immerses you, making you shrug your jacket off your shoulders to rest at your elbows. then you remember what he said, “thanks! i found it at the back of my wardrobe.”
he’s about to make another comment, one leaning to much more inappropriate when a waiter walks over to you both, “do you have a reservation with us tonight?”
bakugou sniffs, giving you a once over then turning to the waiter with a nod, “bakugou. seven pm.”
“Sukuna is such a hard man to please.” That was one of the things you heard most often before dating him, and honestly, during the first weeks of your relationship too.
But watching him closely, you realized it wasn't true at all. Or maybe he's just too soft when it comes to you.
“Kuna!! I made carrot cake with chocolate topping!”
Those magic words catch Sukuna’s attention instantly.
He was sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to the TV, but his relaxed body suddenly straightens up — though he doesn’t stand just yet.
His face lights up like he’s just been forgiven for all his sins, the same excitement as a dog hearing the words “wanna go for a walk?”
“What the fuck?! Are you kidding me?!”
He gets up from the couch in long strides, heading to the kitchen and finding the cake on the counter — the chocolate glaze glistening under the light, steam still rising from it.
“Fuck, I love you- I fucking love you.”
He says that while staring at the cake, grabbing a spatula from the drawer to cut himself a slice.
“Are you telling it to me or to the cake?” You can’t help but laugh at the kind of devotion he has for your carrot cake.
Sukuna looks at you “Both.” Then his gaze returns to the cake as he lifts a thick slice, chocolate dripping down the sides.
Before you can say another word, he takes a huge bite, stuffing his mouth full.
“Ryo, it’s still hot... don’t eat it yet.” Your voice comes out soft, almost motherly, a gentle scolding.
“Hhm- But that’s the best way to eat it.” Ryomen says, mouth full, looking utterly pleased, like he’s tasting the best dish in the world — something he never knew he needed.
“You’re gonna get a stomach ache” you warn again, sounding more like a mom than a girlfriend.
“Hmm... Impossible.”
(He got a stomach ache. Yes, even The Strongest isn’t immune to hot-cake indigestion.)
Now he has his head lying in your lap, mumbling in pain, while you stroke the pink locks of his hair
“I warned you, baby.”
“Shut up.”
❥ masterlist
ABOUT ME
hi guys, I'm Bechamel and originally i don't speak english (but im learning) so if there is any word that doesn't make sense, you can let me know (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡
You’re lying in bed, just waking up from an afternoon nap.
“Hmm… I was thinking” you murmur, the tip of your index finger lightly brushing his nose. “Do you prefer Ryo or Kuna?”
He cracks open one ruby eye, staring at you for a few seconds, silent, like he can’t quite believe you’re actually asking.
“Like…” you continue, testing the sound. “‘Ryo’ is nice. ‘Ryo!’... It’s kinda cool. But isn’t ‘Kuna’ cuter? Like ‘Kuna~’”
You giggle at the way you said it, and he can’t help but laugh along.
His hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer until the top of your head rests under his chin. You pull back slightly to look at him. “So… which one do you like better?”
“Either” he says, closing his eyes again. “As long as you don’t use them in front of anyone.”
You raise an eyebrow. “And what if I do?”
“I’ll pretend it’s not me.”
You laugh, half incredulous, half amused. “I’ll be poking you so everyone knows who owns these silly nicknames.”
A sly smile spreads across his face. “Then I’ll just pretend I don’t know you.”
“Hey, you’re mean!” You give him a playful tap on the chest.
A low, mischievous laugh rumbles from him. “Me? Yeah… I’m the worst.” His grip on your waist tightens as he leans in, leaving a gentle bite on your soft cheek.
❥ masterlist
ABOUT ME
hi guys, I'm Bechamel and originally i don't speak english (but im learning) so if there is any word that doesn't make sense, you can let me know (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡
men who are so whipped for you and only you that no other woman has an effect on him. men who don’t even glance at other women who try to flirt with them because they’re not you
your husband looks at you like you’ve hung the moon. like you’re not just a person sitting across the kitchen table in his wrinkled pajamas, hair messy, sipping tea—you’re it. the center of gravity. the thing every poem has been trying to describe and failing.
"toji, you're staring."
"i know."
he doesn’t even try to hide it. you catch him staring constantly, eyes heavy with this wild kind of devotion that feels almost too much. you laugh and tell him to stop being weird, but his grin just grows wider, softer.
“can’t help it,” he says, and his voice has that edge—the kind of raw truth you can’t joke away. “you’re mine. how am i supposed to look at anything else?”
and he means it. in the way he reaches for your hand, absentminded, even when you’re just walking through the grocery store. in the way he memorizes every little thing you say, storing it away like it’s scripture. in the way he presses his lips to your forehead when you’re half-asleep and whispers things he’d never admit in the daylight.
sometimes, late at night, he pulls you closer than close. like he’s afraid the world will try to take you away in your sleep. like if he holds you tight enough, nothing could ever break the spell.
“you have no idea,” he murmurs into your hair, voice shaking like a confession. “no idea how much i love you. it’s insane. i’d burn down everything if it meant keeping you.”
you laugh softly, even though your heart is racing, because you know he means it. and maybe that should be terrifying, but instead it just feels like safety. like being wanted in a way that’s bigger than the both of you.
and when he finally falls asleep, still tangled around you, you realize: yeah. he really is a little bit crazy about you. and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.
maybeee bringing back the king of curses into the modern era and keeping him restricted by a binding vow was not a good idea. but really, when does jujutsu society ever make a good decision?
and, maybe, making 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 a teacher and electing you as his guide was a bad move all around. for various reasons.
well, for one. he was rude. secondly, painfully old fashioned so now you're teaching him about cellphones. and lastly?
uh, he wants to eat you.
no, not in the sexy way. not in the 'spread your legs and lemme feast' way. ryomen sukuna actually, wholly, truly. . . wants to sink his teeth into your flesh, and consume you.
“just a bite.” he offers and nudges his chair closer in the teacher's break room. you bite you sandwich and shift further.
“no.” you're muffled, but firm, cutting him a glare over a tomato.
at first this unnerved you. when you were introduced to him and the first thing this bastard did was lick his teeth and grunt that you must taste like the finest of wine. you assumed innuendo.
you were proven wrong when the fucker lunged at you and had to be yanked back by gojo.
now? you're far too used to it.
“this is injust.” he motions to your sandwich, like your combination of lettuce, bacon and tomato was a federal crime. “you are allowed to eat your pathetic, favourite foods. why not me?”
you shoot his another look and nudge the bowl of miso over to him. “you said miso was your favourite.”
“I lied. I want you.”
“I don't know what cannibalistic charm you think you have but it's actually fucking creepy.”
the first time you accidentally say i love you to atsumu, it’s a complete accident.
he’d taken you out on countless dates, bought you flowers just because, texted you whenever he’d have a free moment, atsumu miya was truly becoming part of your routine, and you were thrilled with it.
the words tease your tongue every now and again, wandering and eager to slip, tingling with yearn to tell the setter how you really feel, how in love with him you truly are.
but could you really be the one to tell him? open up this door of potential rejection and isolation, heartbreak that resets the cycle again with no mercy.
could you really deal with the small talk again? the struggle to make plans, the abhorrent drone of neglect and disregard for your feelings time and time again? would it be worth it to tell atsumu miya that you love him, only for him to tell you he doesn't reciprocate?
the thought exhausts you, turns your brain into a mush of anguish until you see atsumu once again for another date. a wander around town, under the beautiful lights of the city that shine like stars in atsumu's honeyed eyes.
it makes you feel so safe. so secure.
so loved.
as he walks you to your home, hand resting gently on the small of your back as he follows you, he listens to you yap about everything on your mind, whatever plagues your mind and sticks with you as something trivial turned important to share with him.
you try to ignore the heartbreak as you two finally stop in front of your door.
"this is me," you chuckle.
"it is," he returns. his smile dazzles under the light outside your door. he looks ethereal, like he was designed with perfection in mind, and he's yours.
he's all yours.
"have a great night, yeah?" he adds, hands pooling in his pockets.
"i will," you giggle
“bye,” he smiles.
"have a good night, love you,” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth, opening your door and walking in before closing it behind you.
then. you freeze.
your hand comes up to cover your mouth, eyes blown wide and embarrassment coursing through you. tears sting the back of your eyes, you hadn’t meant to say that, it slipped out without you even knowing about it, like you had said it a million times before like it was part of your routine.
but… had you meant to say it? it felt natural, it felt right, even if the timing wasn’t exactly perfect. you love atsumu. you’ve fallen head over heels, you’ve been so enamored with him ever since the day you met him.
there’s a knock on your door that interrupts your thoughts. you screw your eyes shut, not wanting to face the other side.
but you do. you have to.
you slowly open the door to reveal atsumu miya, his cheeks bright red and eyes curved in complete confusion, but there’s delight in his gaze. “you love me?” he whispers.
you go silent. you swallow thickly.
you nod.
“yes.”
atsumu doesn’t waste a second before grabbing you by the cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss, deep and desperate and excited, he’s so excited. your hands grab his biceps as you return the kiss, letting him take everything that he needs from you, every assurance and every promise that you love him, you love him so much, you worship the ground he walks on and the mere existence of him puts you at ease.
"i love you, too."
the words are babbled against your lips in a desperate act of gratuity, and as you melt into him, you wonder what exactly stopped you from telling him this weeks ago.
snowghoul
2087
vaporwave
