Shoto had never really thought of what it would feel like to he held. Of course he was hugged, and he cuddled with his mother when he younger. But that didn’t last long. He had forgotten what the tender touch of someone who cared for him felt like.

Now here he was, sitting in your dorm with his head buried in your hair, his legs tangled up with yours and his hands resting ever so gently over your back. It felt good. The warmth of your chest against his own. The feeling of your breath against his skin. The faint feeling of your hear beating in your chest. He wondered of you were nervous, like he was. Maybe this was normal for you? Maybe you liked it. He hopes you liked it—Because he did. He loved it.

“..Its warm.” He murmured quietly, he meant it in a good way, though he’s not so sure it came out that way.