The warmth of Izuku’s embrace made you feel at ease after a long tiring day, an arm encircling your waist while you laid beside him, clinging to his side with one of your hands on his. He’s always adored cuddling and laying with you like this, not a distraction or care in the world whenever you two just sit in silence, and frankly that’s the way he likes it; to finally get some peace and quiet from the hero work that so desperately takes it out of him every damn day.

Which is how he’s gotten his scars, each intricate section of skin so wrongfully scarred that it seemed to be placed in the perfect spots that almost seemed he was created by the means of a God, you thought your boyfriend was the most attractive person you’ve seen; he thought not. Not one bit.

Just peacefully laying with you is enough for Izuku to feel at peace, the way your fingertips trace mindless patterns into his skin is nothing out of the ordinary for either of you, but it changes the second he feels your thumb purposely brush over the rough patch of skin on the back of his hand which led to his palm— you’ve always payed attention to things like that about him.

A small hum leaves your parted lips as you slowly lift his hand with your own, hands touching before your fingers intertwined, a blush dusting his face when you started bringing his hand up close to you; thumb caressing the blemishes on his freckled skin.

The colour on his cheeks only deepened as your lips made contact with the specific mark on his hand, flustered as ever, his eyes slightly widened; his voice more like a hesitant squeak. “What— What are you doing?”