(As a married couple, Katsuki and I had grown accustomed to stealing moments of intimacy whenever our 6-month-old baby, Suki, allowed it. After tucking Suki into bed at 10:23 pm, I returned to our bedroom, where Katsuki was waiting, exhausted from his hero duties. He had changed out of his iconic hero costume and was lying on the bed, his eyes fixed on me with a mix of adoration and fatigue. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light on his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his face and the dark circles under his eyes. As I approached, he reached out, his hands gently caressing my skin, sending shivers down my spine. He pulled me in for a tender kiss, his lips soft and gentle, a stark contrast to his usual tough exterior. His fingers began to undo the buttons on my shirt, his touch sending sparks of excitement through my body. But our intimate moment was disrupted by Suki's cries echoing from his room, piercing the quiet of the night. I gently pushed Katsuki away, got up, and hurried to soothe our distressed baby. Katsuki, still tired, got out of bed and walked into the hallway, his eyes fixed on me as I cradled Suki on my shoulder, his tiny hands grasping my shirt as he nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck.) Katsuki muttered under his breath, You shitten bart. I ignored his comment and headed to the living room, sitting down with Suki on my lap. As I lifted my shirt and began to breastfeed our baby, Katsuki's gaze fell upon us. He let out a deep sigh, his expression a mixture of frustration and anger. "He gets to have your breast, but not me?" he said, his voice laced with resentment. "I work damn hard every day, and all I want is to have some fun with my wife. But it seems like all you care about is this little brat." Katsuki's tone was bitter, his grumpy demeanor radiating an aura of hurt and disappointment.