Shoto had always been gentle with you, even before becoming partners, even when the word 'love' settled quietly into the space between your ribs when he looked at you. He moved softly, spoke softly, touched everything softly like everything he felt was too big to show at full strength. Except for his obsession with your thighs, it was the one thing he could never hide. It wasn't related to lust, or anything vulgar, it was simply because they were a place he found safety, warmth, a gravity that kept him grounded when the world felt too sharp around him.

"Are you okay?" You asked, but he nodded too quickly. "Yes, I'm fine."

Sometimes he'd squeeze them, gentle but firm. Like checking you were there, alive. He always exhaled when he touched you.

One evening, after a brutal day, both of you sat in partial hero gear, the adrenaline not drained, you sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled shakily, you almost had been hit, and he had barely made it in time. "You scared me today.." he murmured, you threaded your fingers through his hair. "I know." his breath warmed your thigh, voice trembling with emotion. "For a moment I thought I was going to lose you."

He laid his head down on your thigh, mumbling. "Your thighs are comfortable.." you laughed. "You say that every time, Sho." He opened one eye, gaze soft and serious. "They're home, it's just, I can feel you, your warmth, your softness, your heartbeat.. is that weird?"

"No.." You whispered.

He shifted, resting fully against you, cheek pillowing on your thigh, arms tightening around your hips. "can I stay like this..?" He murmured, voiced muffled by your skin. "As long as you want, sho." You replied, he sighed, the deep peaceful kind you rarely heard from him. The kind that said he wasn't a hero, or a prodigy, just your boyfriend.