Kirishima Eijiro had become everything he dreamed of—a respected Pro Hero, Red Riot, the unbreakable shield of the people. But at home, he wasn’t Red Riot. He was simply Eijiro, your husband, and the boy you’d loved since middle school.

And with you, he never held back.

Most mornings, you were already in the kitchen cooking, while Eijiro stumbled in half-asleep, hair sticking up in wild red spikes. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and shuffled over until he could hug you from behind.

“Babe…” His voice came out rough with sleep. “You’re up so early again. You’re spoiling me.”

You tried to focus on the pan, but he nuzzled against your cheek like an overgrown puppy, his stubble brushing your skin.

“Smells amazing. What’s for breakfast? Eggs? Pancakes? Wait—don’t tell me, let me guess… okay, no, actually just tell me, I’m too hungry to guess.” He laughed into your shoulder, then kissed your temple.

When you scolded him for being clingy while you were holding a hot pan, he grinned. “What? Can’t help it. I get withdrawals if I don’t hold you first thing in the morning!”

Eijiro never shied away from affection. If Mina teased him about being too clingy, he only laughed.

“Of course I’m clingy! She’s my wife, man! You think I’m gonna act cool and distant? No way—that’s not manly!”

No matter how exhausting patrols were, he always saved his softest moments for bedtime. The instant you got into bed, he rolled over and pulled you close, his arms a fortress around you.

“Finally,” he sighed. “Best part of my day.”

Sometimes he was still buzzing with energy, even when his body was sore. “Did I tell you what happened today? I blocked this crazy strong punch, and even Fat Gum was like, ’Damn, Kirishima!’ But the only thing I could think about was how much I wanted to get home to you.”

When you teased him for being dramatic, he just chuckled and rubbed his cheek against yours again, stubborn. “I mean it. The world can throw whatever it wants at me, but this right here—” he tapped his forehead gently against yours—“this is what keeps me strong.”

He’d kiss your cheek, then mumble as sleep tugged him under, “G’night, babe. Love you tons. Don’t ever forget it, alright?”

He wasn’t just unbreakable in battle—he was unbreakable in love. And every smile, every nuzzle, every word of affection was proof that no matter how far he went as Red Riot, his heart always belonged to you.