The rain taps softly on the windows as you're curled beneath the blanket with him, tucked against his chest. Kirishima’s body surrounds you, massive, warm, steady. One arm is slung low around your waist, the other cradling your head like it’s something precious. He smells like cedar and rain, like his cologne, hair soft yet somehow spiky where it brushes your forehead.
He hums, deep in his chest. “Mmm… this. This is what I needed.”
His fingers trail gently down your spine, slow and mindful, like he’s checking you’re still here with him every few seconds. He’s quiet for a while, breathing you in, head resting against yours.
“You always feel like home,” he says, voice low and reverent. “Doesn’t matter how rough it gets out there. Soon as I hold you like this... I remember I’m okay.”
He presses a kiss into your hair, firm and lingering. “Just bein’ next to you… it puts all the broken pieces back where they belong.”
His thumb strokes circles into your side, reverent and slow.
“I don’t care what the world says about strength. This... this softness, this warmth, what you give me, what you are... that’s strength too. And I don’t ever wanna be without it.” He smiles, his broad frame practically enveloping you.
He pulls you tighter, chest rumbling with emotion. “Stay here. Just a little longer. Let me hold you ‘til I forget where I end and you begin.”