#but i couldnt decide between 2b or 2c | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

Doting Over Atsuhiro Sako

Request: speaking of the darling [Mr. Compress] , would you mind doing for him the same 'taking care of' hcs like you did for shigaraki a while ago? so i'd just like to draw a nice bath for him and maybe massage some conditioner into his curls, make them extra soft and fluffy just the way we like them <3 oooh and maybe add one of those glitter bath bombs, have you ever tried one? makes it look like you're bathing in a magical potion, 100% would recommend ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖✧*。and he can repay the kindness by telling me a nice bedtime story in his wonderful voice, i feel like Atsuhiro would make such a good story teller

A/N: I wanna take care of him, like please, let me wash their hair and kiss their face (this applies to everyone in the league)

While the League is capable of living on their own under strenuous circumstances, and as such, they’re quick to adapt. However, despite how they may seem more than capable enough, Atsuhiro still frets over them. He may not be the eldest, but he does find it in himself to look out for the others. In all the time that he’s spent around them, he’s grown fond of them, considering them family and wanting to make sure that their goals are reached. The life that he lives isn’t easy, there’s bloodshed and secrecy, but it’s the life he chose and he wouldn’t trade it for any other.

The League has finally finished transitioning into the Paranormal Liberation Front, every wish and whims of theirs met. However, with every good thing that there is, there are also setbacks. It’s been a gruelling week where he’s had to learn how to properly lead a task force. No matter what, it’s the will of his allies and he is happy to follow them, happy to make the dreams of his and his allies come into fruition. The entire week he’s been drained, his eyes holding heavy bags under his eyes and his smile much more weary than usual. He lays beside you, resting his arm across your chest. It’s heavy, dead weight on you, as he asks you to wake him up early the next day, promptly closing his eyes and falling asleep.

You can tell that the weight of responsibilities and the amount of people that have merged within the two organizations. He’s overstimulated by all the new tasks and people. While he may be a showman, he wants the attention, he wants the admirers but being stuck around people, he isn’t entirely fond of that. Especially not when he was thrown into the situation after being beaten black and blue by the same people who now respect him. You know that he needs rest, and who better to provide it than you. You don’t want anything extravagant for him, not when he’s obviously tired and just wants to lie in bed. You want a day to take care of him properly, but for now, a night with him is the best bet you’ll get.

A bit stubborn, he refuses to admit that he’s tired. He has things to do and the sooner he finishes it, the sooner everything can go back to normal. But even his stubbornness has its limits. When you come to him, grabbing his hands and sliding them upwards to his biceps, he leans into your touch, with a small smile gracing his lips and a small hum in the back of his throat. It takes a bit of convincing to have him put off his duties for the evening, but when you cup his face and rub your hand from his cheek to cup the back of his head, he’s more than willing to listen to whatever you have to say as long as it means that you don’t stray away from him. He lowers himself, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, pulling you close to him and resting his head on your shoulder. You can feel his breath start to deepen, soft puffs of warm air that tickle your neck and when you call his name, he replies with a lazy hum. He’ll pull himself with a groan, wanting nothing more than to just rest with you.

He listens to the shower run, the door muffling the noise and he can hear you close the cupboards inside. When you step out, a thin veil of steam follows, and his body cries out to step into the shower. He looks towards you, his head jerking over and you nod. It’s nothing more than a proper shower and you stand carefully away from him, your arms outstretched and covered in iridescent soap bubbles. While he’s a bit disappointed at you not having joined him properly in the shower, he won’t lie about how nice it feels for your hands to scratch his scalp. It’s a feeling he soon won’t forget- the way that your hands feel, the way that you tell him to close his eyes and how you’re so careful to not let soap run past his brows. He adores the weight of your hands, how your fingers slip between his hair and untangle him, the feeling of having you to himself for a moment where the warm water runs down his back and soothes his tense body.

A dark robe covers his body, catching at the water that slips down his body while his hair drips onto the mat as he watches you fill the tub. A smile plays on his lips, his eyes catching a glance of himself in the mirror that slowly defogs, and despite the bags still being present, they seem less heavy, the dark blue that contrasted against his skin is now pale; a warm glow returning to him, his cheeks dusted with hints of a light red. When he returns his attention, you gesture for him to get into the tub. His lips press against your nose in a thankful kiss, letting his lips that are still wet, leave their mark against you. The water rises with his weight, his head leaned against a cushion and eyes drifting to look up at you. The water soon turns into a swirling mix of blue and pink, thin, white strips that break apart the colors and touch his skin. He gives out a silent breath of a laugh, his hand reaching from under the water to cup it in his hands. The colorful water drips out of his palm, bubbles form and pop in seconds and when he turns around, the door closes behind you.

Out of the water, he feels much lighter, his hand tracing under an eye, a frown at his lips. With a clearer mind than before, he takes notice of his appearance. It’s no wonder that you worried for him. He runs a hand through his hair, grimacing as cold water drips onto his nose. He exits the bathroom, his eyes scanning the room until they fall on you. He clears his throat and you hurry over to him, handing his clothes and making a teasing comment about how he had spent so long, that you were starting to get worried. He can only nudge you with his elbow, holding the clothes tight to his body. He sits on the bed, a towel draped over his shoulders and his back hunched as you massage oil into his hair. You scrunch at his hair, and he wishes that you’ll finish faster, only so he could lie beside you. He can feel his fatigue starting to catch up to him,

Once finished, he lies on the bed, the sleeve of his residual limb pushed until it scrunches up at his shoulder. His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes closed tightly until colors and inorganic shapes start to take form behind his eyelids. The compression bandage is snug around him, your hands kneading into his skin. He lets out a shaky breath, his chest tingling and heart beating, blood rushing to his ears as you coo softly. His body is on pins and needles as your hand flutters away from his limb, coming to rest on his back and press deep in between his shoulder blades. He hisses out, muttering a word of reassurance when you ask if he’s fine. His muscles are tense, his body and mind on high alert that you’re beside him, your hands busy as they flutter around him, pressing and massaging at every sore spot that you can find.

Carefully, he shifts, rolling onto his stomach and grinning at you, his smile crooked and arm bent over his eyes. When you creep beside him, he peeks at you through his shaded vision. Your presence is enough for him to decide that it’s an invitation to rest between your legs, his head on your chest and his arm gripping onto the side of your shirt. The silence is sweet, and the only thing to break it is the sound of your beating heart, echoing in his ears like a lullaby that won’t end. He presses himself deeper into you, nuzzling until he can’t go any deeper. Your hand ghosts down his neck, your fingertips leaving his body pricking with just your touch, even through the thin layer of clothes where you end up resting your hand.

At the end of the night, when the moon is high in the skin, a pearly light that shines upon everyone and shines between the gap in the curtains, he switches positions with a groan. He appreciates you letting him rest on you, but for now, it’s time to return the favor when you protest and tell him it wasn’t a favor but more a gift. It doesn’t make a difference to him, he only shakes it off and tells you to come close to him. Sleep has already begun to claim him, his eyes blinking rapidly until you lay beside him, his arm curling around you and chin grazing over the top of your head. Atsuhiro’s words are quiet, broken between yawns, and even so, they’re still captivating. You cling to every word, your hand sliding to rest on his chest and like how your heart echoed into his ear, his beats against your palm. He talks quietly, and soon, his words fall into a whisper that you are unable to hear. You pull away from him, your eyes falling onto the sleeping man whose hand slides down your back and claws at the covers, patting aimlessly until he finds your hand. The corner of his lips twitch into a fleeting smile. You grab the blanket and cover the both of you and he seems to sink deeper into the bed, his legs stretching out until they bump into yours.

192 notes · View notes