I Need Husband Kirishima Injected Into My Blood - Blog Posts

can you PLEASE do a husband!kirishima reacting to the reader and his son being disrespectful or and rude to the reader, maybe even pushing her lightly?

kirishima came home after a long day of being a pro hero—muscles aching, uniform a little scuffed, but a smile on his face. no matter how exhausting the day had been, coming home always made it worth it. the thought of seeing you and his son, kept him going through the hardest patrols.

he stepped inside, expecting the usual—maybe the scent of dinner still lingering in the air, the sound of the tv playing some cartoon in the background, his son running up to him yelling “daddy!”—but instead, his ears caught shouting.

“you’re the meanest mommy ever!” his son’s voice rang out, followed by the sound of tiny feet stomping and something soft hitting the floor—which he assumed was a toy thrown in frustration.

kirishima's brows furrowed as he stepped into the room, instantly taking in the scene—his five-year-old, red-faced and teary-eyed, standing in front of you with his little fists clenched. and you, still calm but clearly tired, standing your ground.

he spoke before anything else could happen. “hey! what do you think you're doing?”

his voice wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight to stop his son in his tracks. the boy froze like a deer caught in headlights, slowly turning around.

“mommy said no ice cream,” he mumbled, blinking fast, “s’ being mean to me.”

kirishima crouched down, placing a hand gently on his son’s shoulder. “i know you're upset, but that doesn’t mean you can talk to her like that. she’s your mom. she loves you. and when she says no, it’s because she’s looking out for you.”

his son looked away, chewing on his bottom lip. the defiance hadn’t totally left his face, but his shoulders sagged a little. his eyes flicked to you, then to the ground. after a moment, he turned and stormed off down the hall, muttering under his breath.

kirishima stood up with a quiet sigh. “I’ll handle this.” he then gave you a look—half apology, half reassurance—before following after him. 

the house was quiet for a few minutes. you sat on the couch patiently waiting. then, soft footsteps padded back toward the living room.

kirishima returned, walking slowly with your son at his side. the boy was sniffling a bit, but his expression had softened. he clung to kirishima’s hand like a lifeline.

“m’ sorry, mommy...” he whispered, eyes darting up to meet yours.

your heart melted. you knelt down and opened your arms. “it’s okay, baby. i forgive you.”

he rushed into your hug, wrapping his little arms around your neck tightly. you kissed the top of his head and glanced up at kirishima, eyes meeting his in quiet thanks. he gave you a small smile in return—one of those warm, sweet ones that said i’ve got your back.

later that night, the house was finally quiet. your son had fallen asleep curled up with one of his stuffed dinosaurs, breathing steady and peaceful.

you and kirishima lay in bed, limbs tangled under the blankets, the soft glow of the nightlight from the hallway seeping through the cracked door.

“thank you, by the way,” you said, voice low. “he gets cranky sometimes, and it can be… a lot.”

kirishima reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then leaned in to kiss you. “of course. we’re supposed to be a team, right?”

you smiled, leaning into him. “right.”

and for the first time that day, you felt the tension and stress ease out of your body. feeling glad you weren’t alone in this whole parenting thing.

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