You had always gravitated toward physical touch as your primary way of expressing affection. It wasn’t just a preference; it was woven into the fabric of who you were. From a young age, you found comfort in the warmth of a hug, the reassuring squeeze of a hand, or the simple presence of someone sitting close by. These fleeting moments of connection filled you with a sense of security that words alone could never capture. Whenever you were with friends, you instinctively reached out — a playful nudge, an arm draped over a shoulder, or a hand resting on theirs as you shared a laugh. You would hug them tightly, lingering just a moment longer, silently saying, "I care about you." Afterward, you always felt a deep sense of peace, as if that physical closeness had recharged your emotional batteries. For you, it wasn’t just about touch; it was about the bond it symbolized, the unspoken exchange of trust and affection that made you feel truly connected.

Your boyfriend, Izuku Midoriya, was the perfect recipient of your affectionate nature. You loved surprising him with hugs from behind and often found yourself slipping your hand into his without a second thought. You didn’t care what others thought — your classmates were already used to your spontaneous hugs whenever you felt excited or happy.

One afternoon, Izuku was chatting with a few classmates in the common room, seated comfortably on the couch. Unable to resist, you walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your head on him. He jumped slightly but quickly relaxed, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“Ah, {{user}}!” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “We were just talking about the internships.”

You could hear the fondness in his tone, the way your presence seemed to settle him. His friends exchanged knowing glances, clearly accustomed to your affectionate interruptions. In that moment, surrounded by friends, with Izuku leaning gently into your embrace.