a/n: whenever i was sick, my mom told me to drink coke. i’m sick right now but i’ve evolved to keep chugging coffee no matter what my organs tell me.
summary: snapshot series. a snapshot of kirishima taking care of you when you’re sick. kirishima x gn!reader.
cw: no pronouns used, food, cuddling, fluff, descriptions of being sick and the symptoms associated with it (coughing, mucus, congestion, runny nose, fatigue, body aches), slightly suggestive at the end (slightly slightlllyyyy, it’s just the reader teasing kirishima).
word count: 1,529.
“Babe.”
Kirishima’s soft words and gentle voice break through the haze of sleep, but you can’t find the energy to open your eyes or answer appropriately. There’s an exhaustion behind your throat, but you chalk it up to having slept late last night and not the fact that you had been coughing out the mucus in your throat all day yesterday.
“Babe, wake up,” Kirishima says. “You’re gonna be late for work.”
He touches your bare shoulder; then, he touches your face, less of a caress and more of a check. Finally, he presses the palm of his hand against your searing forehead and you hear him tsk.
“[Name], you’re burning up,” he says. “Baby, I told you to take medicine last night.”
“It’s fine,” you mumble, pushing his hand off of your face. “Just five more minutes and then I’ll get up.”
Despite the certainty in your voice, it had taken an enormous amount of effort to even say that much. You don’t tell him that you are now fully aware that the exhaustion behind your voice is actually one that is spread throughout your entire body, that there is an ache and a weight on all your limbs. You slowly grab the blanket that has fallen near your waist and pull it up to your chin, but there’s another feeling in the back of your mind that tells you to kick it off. No air goes through your nose, either, so you’re forced to breathe heavily through your mouth.
Maybe it’s a little bit more than sleeping late, you think vaguely.
Kirishima, on the other hand, is positive it’s more than sleeping late.
“I’m calling your work,” he announces, snatching your phone off your bedside table and unlocking it with his fingerprint.
“No,” you groan. “I can make it. They need me.” You get up and push the blankets off to show that you’re mentally and physically capable—only, you don’t actually do it. It’s all in your head. When the image fades, you realize that you’re still in bed, curled underneath the sheets.
Kirishima doesn’t respond. He calls your boss, his voice fading as he steps out of the room—“Hi, Mr. Takahara? It’s Red Riot, [Name]’s boyfriend. Yes, sir, so [Name]’s…”
You smile against the pillow. He hates using his status to get his way. You snicker, feeling warm not because of the blankets but because of how much he loves you.
Moments later, you’re shaken from your sleep. Kirishima makes you sit up, drink water, and take medicine; his voice is stern when you try to talk your way out of the medication, voice slurred with sick and sleep. Once done, he tucks you back into the bed and surrounds you with pillows from his side. Your eyes flutter open briefly when you hear objects being placed on your nightstand: he sets down for you a cup of water, a cup of coke, and a box of tissues.
You ask him what your boss said, but he doesn’t answer; you think that you might’ve imagined yourself asking him, but before you can figure it out, the door closes softly and you sink into the comfortable hold of fabric and fall asleep.
&&
The next time you wake up, you’re congested, you’re consistently clearing your throat, your back and shoulders ache, but you feel better overall. Better and overall are used very loosely. You can at least open your eyes with ease and sit up without major issues. You grab a tissue from the side, feeling your nose running even though you still can’t breathe through your nostrils, and then drink the rest of the water.
You’re glad that Kirishima called in for you. Going into the office like this would’ve been hellish, deadlines be damned. They’d survive without you for a day.
You glance around for the TV remote and see that Kirishima had placed it beside your water. You turn on the TV, put on a random YouTube video, and then start scrolling through the available restaurants in the DoorDash app, thinking that you should probably order soup even though you’re craving something more filling. You think you should also shoot Kirishima a text message, just to let him know you’re awake and okay since he’s at work.
But then the door opens, and Kirishima peeks his head into the bedroom. His hair is tied in a low ponytail, and he’s wearing your gray headband to keep stray hairs from his face.
“Hey, baby,” he greets. “You feeling better?”
“Eijirou,” you say, surprised, “you didn’t go in today?”
He frowns, opening the door further to lean against the frame. You see that he’s wearing an apron, and now that the is wide open, you can smell the scents of food simmering on the kitchen stove.
“‘Course not,’” he says. “You’re sick. I asked Bakugou to cover for me so I could make sure you’re okay.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, feeling bad that he has to miss work for you. It’s just a mild flu, you think; it’s nothing that you can’t handle, but you see him shake his head.
“I have to,” he insists. “I want to.”
Your cheeks warm, and you know it’s not the sickness.
“Hungry yet?”
You nod.
“Okay, I’m almost done. I’ll bring it in.”
“No, I can come out,” you say. You swing your legs over the bed and stand up. Kirishima steps inside and watches you intently, waiting to catch you in case you stumble, but you reassure him that it’s mild and roll your eyes, though your stomach flips in contentment at the close attention as though you’ve only been dating for a couple days and not several years. You grab the big pillow off the bed and follow behind him out of the room.
You lay down on the couch. Instead of checking on the stove, Kirishima follows you and grabs the blanket from the other couch, tucking you back in; he grabs the remote, turns on the TV, and places it in your hands. When he leans forward to kiss your forehead, you turn your face, whining in embarrassment—“I’m sick and sweaty, stop”—but he kisses you anyways and says, “Worth it.”
While you put on Princess Mononoke, you settle down into the cushions, listening to Kirishima whistle and hum alongside the movie’s soundtrack. You scroll through the random apps on your phone, reading tweets and threads until the music and warmth make your eyes flutter closed. Soon, you dip back into the Sandman’s realm.
&&
It feels like seconds later that you feel Kirishima’s large hand pressing against your forehead.
“Good, fever’s down,” he says. “Come on, baby, food’s ready.”
He helps you sit up despite your groaning complaints, but when you’re finally on the floor with the blanket in your lap and the feast on the coffee table, your stomach grumbles. Kirishima has set out several plates of white rice, glazed chicken, sunny-side up eggs, and vegetables (you’re surprised to see kimchi on the table because that means he went out of his way to go to the only market—forty minutes away—in Musutafu that sells it). There’s also a bowl of peeled oranges on your side of the table. To your right is a cup of water, a cup of coke, and your medication.
You reach out to squeeze his knee lovingly; if you weren’t sick, you would kiss him. “Thanks, Eijirou,” you whisper.
“Of course.” He fills your bowl up first and gives it to you, making sure that you enjoy your meal with several bites before filling his own bowl. “Eat, then take your medicine, and then you can sleep again, okay?”
“Okay,” you say in between chewing.
The two of you eat in quiet, watching the protagonists get closer together on the screen. Whenever Kirishima notices you finishing your vegetables, he adds more into your bowl. Eventually, you make your way back under the covers and against the couch cushions, and Kirishima feeds you the orange slices.
“You love me so much,” you tease after the third slice fed to you.
He’s not embarrassed, though. He smiles, a smile that’s big and wide and sincere. “I love you so much,” he repeats.
Even though you were the one teasing him, his unabashed declaration as he reaches for another slice makes you feel embarrassed for some reason. In retaliation—because you can’t be the only one red-faced—you suck playfully on his fingers with the next orange wedge. Kirishima jerks his hand back; his ears turn darker than his hair, and he snaps at you, “[Name], that’s not fair; you’re sick!”
Later, as you’re falling asleep, suspended between twilight and the full darkness of the Sandman’s world, you hear the clanking of dishes as Kirishima puts the food away and washes the plates. Then, you feel him scoop you into his strong arms and take you to the bedroom where he tucks you underneath the covers right beside him. You sigh, losing yourself fully into the hazy fog and his body heat, and he intertwines his fingers with yours in the dim light.
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Dabi and “of course i still love you. but i hate myself for it.” with a reader pleaser?
I will write a NB reader as you didn't say what gender soooo I hope this is ok for you my good dude.
GN x Dabi
mildly n-s-f-w
Angst - some adult themes
Word Count: 1,212
You opened all the windows in your small dingy apartment, desperate for the summer breeze on your skin, the AC unit was so old and bad it might as well have been blowing hot air on you like an oven. You sighed picking up a magazine and fanning yourself with its glossy pages. You couldn’t wait for the sun to go down and give you some minor relief from the temperature.
Pulling out your old fan, hoping and preying it still worked you plugged it into the wall in your bedroom, hearing it clang and chug to life, sighing at the sudden burst of cool air in your face, ruffling your hair softly. The front door thudding open got your attention, reluctantly leaving the cool embrace of your ten-year-old half price fan.
“Hello?” You called walking down the hallway, seeing the man stood in your doorway, not even bothering to take off his shoes. The smell of blood and burning filled the small apartment in no time and you tried not to gag, you watched Dabi limp down the hall towards you.
“Toy?” you called tentatively as he leaned against the wall, heavy breathing. Your eyes opened wide seeing him grab his side, the white tank top turning red where his hand connected to his side. You yelped, running into the bathroom and grabbing your first aid kit, watching as Dabi now limped and flopped on your beat-up couch.
You helped him shrug off his coat, trying to get him comfortable before your hands were all over him, prying his own away from the wound, your eyes felt watery, but you knew now wasn’t the time to cry for your boyfriends’ condition, this wasn’t the first time he had crawled to your apartment needing help.
“Toy, hey Toya” you called, he seemed to be fading in and out as you started to deal with his wound. His head slumped to the side, he mumbled something, but you couldn’t hear. He faded out as you poured disinfectant on the wound, grabbing your needle and thread.
He never needed you like this again.
--
Gone were the days Dabi would limp to your apartment after getting in trouble with someone bigger and uglier then himself, now he was part of the LOV and he was the big bad wolf that blew down peoples houses. He had become the nightmare that lurked in the dark, waiting around every corner ready to bite at ankles and scar bodies. Burn people on the pyre as he saw fit.
The Toya you knew had died on the couch that night, this person, born in the ashes wasn’t your Toya, he was Dabi. You’d stopped watching the news now, scared of what you’d see and hear of your dangerous boyfriends’ activities outside this apartment.
He came by less and less, sometimes you were thankful for that, the way he looked at you different then before, his smile no longer ever gentle and warm but the constant shadow of a smirk, a crocked jagged thing. His eyes brimmed with a constant danger, like a candle left unattended by a curtain fluttering in the breeze, always just a matter of time.
You’d been curled up on the sofa watching a movie when the door unlocked, you glanced over your shoulder already knowing who it was. Dabi lurched into the apartment, shutting the door behind him, hitting the kitchen area first to look for food.
“There’s some left-over pizza if you want to warm it up” You stretched your body out on the sofa waiting for him to acknowledge you.
Dabi said nothing, pulling the box out and just eating it cold, starving from a long night at the LOV shit hole they called their base. He’d had a few beers while there, needing something to soak up the alcohol and stop the groaning in his gut. Dabi finished up, leaving the box on the counter much to your annoyance. He flopped on the sofa with you, pulling you into his arms and inhaling your scent.
“Hey” he finally said, nuzzling his nose into your neck, arms tightening around your waist.
“Hi To-“you started but caught the dangerous look in his eyes from the corner of your own, feeling his nails dig into your sides “Dabi” you corrected yourself quickly, feeling him relax against you once more, kissing your neck, open mouthed and sloppy.
“Wanna fuck? It’s been a really long day babe” he mumbled against your skin, pawing at your body now, he managed to shift you both on the couch until you were led underneath him, you could feel his erection on your thigh and you sighed, putting your hands to his chest.
“You can’t just show up for the first time in a week and decide we are having sex Dabi” You hated calling him Dabi, but you supposed it suited him, after all your beautiful yet damaged Toya was long gone, leaving this bush fire of a man instead.
“And why not?” he mumbled, his mixed textured hands holding yours, waiting for what he deemed was a good enough reason as not to get his way. “I’m serious, off” He chuckled and didn’t budge and for a moment your heart stopped just as you were about to yell, he moved, sitting back up and pulling you up with him.
He sighed, bored of your rejection and him getting nowhere, simply leaving you sat on the couch, heart still hammering away as he helped himself to another beer, gulping it down like a man dying of thirst. Dabi sighed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, you said nothing as he grabbed another, this time bringing it over to the couch once more, sticking his feet on the coffee table with a loud bang.
“I’m going to bed” you didn’t want to entertain your drunk partner anymore; he had set himself up on a self-destructive path with his life choices and you didn’t want to watch him drink himself to death to top it all off. You gently pat his shoulder and left to the bedroom.
Somehow despite the events of the night and the TV turned on louder then you’d have liked you managed to drift off to sleep, no idea how long you had been blessed with a dreamless slumber before you felt the bed dip under his weight. He shuffled under the covers, wearing nothing but his tank top and boxers, arm slung over your waist.
“Do you still love me?” you blinked, the question had come out of nowhere, you honestly didn’t think Dabi was capable of caring about the real answer anymore, it had been longer then you could remember since the flame user had so much as uttered it to you.
“Of course, I still love you. but I hate myself for it.”You closed your eyes, the first time you’d admitted that out loud. The implications of part of your words lingered in the air, Dabi removed his arm, turning to face the other side.
No more words said between you.
The next morning, he was gone and that was the last time you ever saw Dabi, Toya Todoroki had truly died and now his ghost stopped haunting your apartment.
oh headcannons for dating Denki AND Shinso : D : D
I'll do some separate and together for you.
Dating Denki
+ You'd have to be ok with being around his group of friends alot because he is a very social person and he'd want you and his friends to like each other.
+ You'd defiantly have to be the mature one in the relationship, keeping him grounded when he wants to go off and do something dumb.
+ Getting used to his quirk might take a little as he sometimes struggles to keep it under check with his emotions running wild.
+ He'd be clingy, not annoyingly so but he'd always want kisses and to hold your hand so you'd have to be ok with some level of PDA but also able to set the boundaries.
+ He might be a little dense and not so book smart but he's very loving and just wants you happy. You'll always be cheered up by him and able to joke around.
+ Once in a relationship I don't think Denki would be interested in looking elsewhere and would be trustworthy.
Dating Shinso
+ You'd have to reassure him you weren't scared of his quirk, he'd always be trying to make sure you knew that he'd never use it on you.
+ Comfortable silence would be between you both as you sat together, reading, or watching TV. You'd be so comfortable doing your own things together.
+You'd need to help him open up but once he did he'd just cuddle up to you behind closed doors, always enjoying napping on you, head on your lap as he sleeps and you play on your phone, one hand in his hair.
+ He'd be happy to hold your hand in public but he's a very secretive and withdrawn person. Defiantly not the 'lets meet your parents' kind of person.
+ Even if he wasn't glued to your hip or very needy the second you sent him a message he would be there for you.
+ More of an night owl alot of your dates would be in the afternoon or early evening. Cat cafes are always a winner to take him too. You must like animals.
Dating them both
+ You would make the perfect balance between their hyper extroverted and introverted personality types. A good medium in the triad.
+ Denki would be the more emotionally needy one and there for require your attention most of the time but Shinso isn't a jealous type and would just enjoy having the positive energy around him. Happy to be around you both.
+ Dates to the arcade would as a three would be a regular, getting junk food on your way home, Denki would loose alot of games to Shinso and you'd have to cheer him up.
+ No toxic masculinity in this house. They'd not fight over you, the three would be very functional and you'd all bonce well off each other.
You didn't state if you meant make or female characters so you get both my good dude.
Shinso
I headcannon him as being on the alternative spectrum himself so he'd be happy with a goth girlfriend not that he actively seeks one he'd just be pleased he had someone who could paint his nails and talk about horror movies with.
Denki
He would jump on that 'hot big tiddy goth gf' bandwagon in a flash. Not sure he has the actual energy to keep up with how extra one could be though.
Sero
Again, not actively seek one for the sake of it but finds all the culure with it super chill and interesting. Would enjoy the gig and soical scene. He'd be that one rake thin guy looking lost in a mosh pit but also enjoying it.
Mina
The fashion and the drama baby, she's down for that, she'd bounce off of your dark goth look with neons and pastel versions, she'd try and match you on nights out but with her own style. She'd kill a man for a equally extra girlfriend to hang out with and do make up looks on.
Jiro
Jiro would be speechless seeing you all decked out, too gay to function over how great you look. You guys would listen to music together alot.
Tokoyami
I feel he would ever only ever date goth girls because he feels comforable being all dark and brooding or he'd avoid them because he's already extra enough for two people.
Momo
If it was gothic lolita she'd be super happy to go out dress shopping with you, fancy brands? sure, she'd love to see you all cute in a matching frilly dress with her.
Present Mic/Hizashi
He's very into the alternative fashion, he'd really be into but not in a creepy way, you guys would go clothes shopping and he would pick up everything and be like 'YOU'D LOOK SO GOOD IN THIS' like the incredibly supportive and loud man he is.
A/N: There is NO PROMPT because honestly I just got so angry the other day at somethings irl that I was like hahaha what if I made a reader who would actually go and beat the shit out of criminals that arent so commonly reported (like domestic abusers and such) and well... now we have this. Honestly it’s a mess and I know it’s more than 1k words but uh yeah I’m posting it. Uuuuuuh yeah toodles :)
Shadows shoot through the alleyway as the light above you flickers. You flex your fingers against the rubber grip of the bat.
The man at your feet coughs harshly. Drops of scarlet blood splatter from his mouth.
“Restrain me? What about this, bastard? Don’t tell me you’ve been so busy fighting other villains that there wasn’t a spare motherfucker around to pick this one up?” You use the toe of your boot to push the man over. A small smirk adorns your face as his body doesn’t protest your maneuvering.
Gravel crunches behind you as the Hero takes a small step forward.
Laughter falls from your lips, “Relax Eraser. We were just talking, isn’t that right, buddy?” Your boot pressed against his ribs, causing a groan to fall from his lips—more blood slides from his mouth.
Behind you, the gravel shifts again, “You’re supposed to leave this to the Pros. There’s a reason licenses and laws exist. It’s so we can do our jobs correctly.”
You scoff, “If you did your fucking job right, then I wouldn’t have to deal with pricks like this piece of shit.” You finish the sentence off by bringing the bat down on the scumbag below you.
His grunt of pain ricochets off the walls, completely overtaking the sound of the bat striking him. Blood dribbles from his lips again as he rolls over on his side.
Then, before you know it, you’re being launched into the wall on your left. Your cheek drags along the rough brick surface as your body impacts the wall. A small stinging sensation prickles at your skin before you feel your cheek become stickier.
Blood. The motherfucker pushed you hard enough to draw blood.
Instantly, your hands fly out in an attempt to land blows on your assailant. But to no avail, he’s already trapped them in his capture weapon.
Behind you, Eraser lets out a tired sigh.
“Kid, I told you to cut this shit out.”
Again, your arms lash out at his demeaning nickname for you. The same nickname he’s been using since he caught a glimpse of your face three months back. Back when one of the criminals you were hunting got smart and tried to land a hit on you. His trajectory was off, but he’d managed to snatch off the mask you’d been wearing in the process.
He let you go then, with a harsh reminder that there were already heroes tasked with picking up criminals. Oh, and of course, that you needed to get your head on straight before you got yourself into a mess. And then he’d dealt with the douchebag you’d been after all night.
But he was wrong. If there was anyone who needed to get their priorities straight it was these false heroes. Like him, who left civilians to defend themselves against abusers and assaulters alike. Because if it didn’t bring them glory, they honestly didn’t care.
“Stop calling me a fucking kid, you asshole,” you grit out as you struggle against the restraints.
“Stop fighting me, and maybe I’ll be nicer,” he growls into your ear.
Frustration kicks in as you thrash helplessly against the restraints.
“Stop it, Y/N.” His voice is cold, emotionless as he presses you up against the brick with more force.
Your mind blanks at his words. For a moment, you let your guard down as you hear your name fall from his lips. In that single moment, you’re reminded of all the times when he’s called you by your given name. The moments when it fell from his lips laced with pure admiration and love.
For that split second, you’re back in your old apartment. Tangled on the worn couch as you trade stories between kisses. Maybe, you can get that back, you think to yourself.
Warm drops on your face ground you back in reality. Suddenly, it’s all rushing back to you.
The criminal on the floor.
The blood.
Shouta pressing you into the wall.
The rage.
“Don’t fucking call me that,” you spit out. You let the anger consume you. Enough so that it drips off your words as you speak.
He’s used to your mocking or indifference when you speak but, you’ve never talked to him with this much anger before. It surprises him enough to let his guard down, and at that moment, you spring into action.
You press the front of your body into the wall, attempting to make yourself as flat as possible. Then, before he can regain his composure, your left leg kicks back with all the strength you can muster. You land a hit on his knee, causing him to buckle to the ground and lose his grip on the restraints.
You quickly rid yourself of his hold and take off down the alleyway. As you move, you unclip one of the various devices attached to the waistband of your pants. One quick push of the button and the anchor sails up towards the building’s roof on your right. With a small beep, you’re alerted of it’s attachment to the build and press the button once again before jumping upwards. Straps unravel from the object and wrap themselves around your waist as it pulls you up onto the building’s roof.
Below, Eraser is hot on your trails, capture weapon already in hand as he preps himself to venture upwards. That is until a choked coughing sound fills the alleyway again.
Back at the end of the alleyway, the bruised man’s new round of coughs has him spitting up even more blood. Both your eyes trained on the man—yours with disdain, his with both concern and annoyance.
He knows what he has to do and yet he still hesitates.
At that point, you decide to speak again, your words laced with audible anger, “You don’t get to call me that.”
You watch as Aizawa’s eyes narrow at you, jaw set while he withdraws his capture weapon and heads on over to the injured criminal.
Of course, even now, he follows that idiotic hero code.
You shake your head at the sight before taking off, disappearing between the rooftops and into the night.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Rating: General Audiences
Words: 550
Summary: After his run-in with the eight precepts, Fatgum needs some love and attention while building his weight back up~
“Incoming,” you announce as you bump the bedroom door open with your hip and bring through the tray of assorted desserts.
“Ah, thank god for you, puddin’,” the deflated hero sighs.
Since you brought him home from the hospital after he was done sobbing with pride over his own little heroes, Taishiro has been bed-ridden and receiving frequent feedings from you in every effort to build his body mass back up.
Having to use that aspect of his quirk is an element of the territory, sure, but what he’d been through with his young interns on top of that certainly requires tenderness when handling the aftermath of.
Even for an optimist like him the repercussions of heroism are tough. In fact, Taishiro often finds himself getting depressed when he’s back to this lean form. It’s not comfortable at all and his hunger is incessant.
“Here you are, big guy,” you purr, getting into bed with him and his treats.
He has just enough of a belly starting to grow for you to sit the tray on it and periodically transfer sweets from to his open mouth like a baby bird. You can’t help chuckling at how happy he is to just be fed and doted on.
Taishiro isn’t much for coddling in general, but if ever he is you can bet it’s when he’s down in the dumps trying to build his mass up, and then it’s a wonder you can ever see him as anything but a big baby ever again.
Currently he’s about 300 pounds, which isn’t bad given that he’s only been in your care a couple of days. It’s starting to show around his chin and jawline, and his chest and arms are fluffing out nicely too.
He still looks small in comparison to his standard eight feet though; more like fat middle-school Taishiro than professional hero Fatgum.
You don’t hate it though. In fact, you think he’s pretty delicious at any size.
“This is the life,” he huffs, swallowing a whole slice of Castilla.
“What’s that?” you smile, “being fed cake while you lay in bed all day?”
He nods smugly, taking the next bite you offer him.
“Y’know I really appreciate it, chickling.”
“I know,” you coo, lying down with him and tucking yourself up to his soft body. “You are starting to fill out though,” you observe, rubbing the growing swell of his belly.
“Yeah,” he agrees with an amused snort. “Still a way to go though.”
“We’ll get you back to normal, dumpling, don’t you worry~”
“Oh, I ain’t,” he smirks, putting an arm around you and kissing your forehead. “I got complete faith in ya’.”
You smile, and offer him the first bite of a warm red bean bun next.
“Maybe when you’ve got some strength back we’ll make an appearance at that Takoyaki stall. I bet the old man’s missing you.”
“Hah! Might wanna’ call ahead an’ let him know that,” the BMI hero laughs riotously. “Don’t think there’s enough squid in all’a Japan to sate the appetite I got right now.”
“Better feed you up before I unleash you on the food district then,” you tease, giving his chubby cheeks a pinch for good measure.
Rating: Teen & Up
Words: 820
Tags: Belly Rubs, Light Feederism, Tenderness, Domesticity
You come home to find a familiar sight; your love on the couch in a dozen blankets with two of the cats sat on him.
“Oh dear,” you whisper, amused as you try to unpack the groceries as quietly as possible.
Being a model hero and teacher is by no means an easy combination of jobs. Just one of those on their own would be enough to exhaust the average person.
Though that’s not to say that even being above average it doesn’t exhaust Aizawa. It does. He is very, very exhausted, all of the time.
He starts to stir just as you’re finished unpacking. He’s a light sleeper, but you’re a light mover.
“Wow, that’s some bedhead you got going on there, handsome,” you tease as one of the fluffier cats’ tails hangs down in his face.
He grumbles and shifts the furry lodger; carefully detangling himself from his nest of blankets to comes over and greet you.
“How’re you doing, sleepy head?” you smile as he drapes his arms around your shoulders and kisses your cheek.
“Hungry,” he murmurs.
“You on duty tonight?”
He yawns and then groans despairingly, rubbing his head against you very much like a cat himself.
“Yup... those brats almost killed me today... I’m gettin’ too old for this shit...”
“That’s not true, you’re young,” you croon.
Aizawa gives you a rare smile.
“Definitely getting too fat for it, anyway.”
“Oh now that’s definitely not true,” you dispute, turning to put a hand on his soft middle.
The quirk suspending hero has never been a master of self-care. When he lived alone it was all he could do just to remember to have one meal a day, and he filled in the gaps with caffeine.
You’re working on amending that now though, and despite there being little change in his other routines, you’re managing to fill him out nicely.
You gently tug his sweater down to pull out the creases and reveal the extent of his pudgy belly, smiling when he sighs a little in response to the tender touch of your hand there.
“You’re looking much healthier,” you remark, “not as pale, either.”
Admittedly his complexion is less pallid now he’s not working himself to low blood sugar, but it’s probably the slight blush on his cheeks that really gives you that impression.
“Cutie,” you conclude as you kiss him on the nose.
“Geez,” he huffs, trying hard to maintain the grouchy old man persona.
He goes about feeding the cats as you start preparing dinner. You’ve taken to giving him bigger portions, and the fact he always finishes would imply he’s frequently hungry enough to be eating that amount.
You can’t help but admire him when he finishes his meal and goes through the usual process of huffing and rubbing his full belly.
Maybe you overloaded him a little bit tonight, but the evenings are getting colder and you’d hate to think of him being hungry when he’s on hero duty.
You get up to take his empty plate and put them in the sink before returning to sit by him and rub his tummy for him. It’s maybe not subtle, but you like to feel for yourself just how well he did in eating all his dinner.
“Are you sure you’re up to going out tonight?” you ask, wondering if you might convince him to get some much needed sleep instead.
“I have to,” he grumbles, sounding almost disappointed by it himself.
“You don’t have to. Which district are you covering? I can do it for you, y’know~”
Aizawa smiles. “I don’t want you going out there at night, it’s not safe.”
“I’m sorry, I thought we were heroes? When did avoiding your duty because it’s not safe come into it?” you probe wryly.
He sighs and lets his head loll over the back of the couch as he enjoys the repetitive feeling of your hand circling his tummy.
“You’re not using your quirk on me, are you?” he smirks. “M’feeling very persuaded to... just stay home...”
“I think that’s just this full belly of yours talking,” you grin seductively. “There’s dessert too, you know?”
Aizawa groans, helpless. You always know how to make him soft and susceptible.
“I don’t want you going out there, kitten,” you purr, “stay home tonight. Keep warm and well-fed... let me handle the hero stuff, okay?”
The added scratching behind the ear really sways the sleep-addled hero; he is a sucker for your praise and placation, and despite being anally responsible, if anyone can convince the stubborn fool to take better care of himself, it’s you.
“I’ll worry y’know?” he mutters.
“Then eat some more,” you tease, slipping your hand under his sweater to feel the warmth from his pot-belly on your palm. “I’m sure you can find some room in here~”
He concedes, throwing you that oddly charming lop-sided smile.
