Chapter Text
Not a bad mood—no, that would’ve been easier to handle. This? This was the chaotic, feral, can’t-keep-his-hands-to-himself kind of energy that usually meant your clothes would survive maybe ten more minutes.
Maybe.
He appeared in the hallway seconds later, hair still damp from his post-mission shower at HQ, shirt already halfway unbuttoned, blindfold hanging from one finger.
“Hey, baby,” he grinned, voice syrup-sweet and dangerous. “Miss me?”
You blinked at him from the kitchen doorway, holding a mug of tea and wearing the world’s most innocent expression. “I saw you this morning.”
“Yeah,” he drawled, stepping into your space like a storm rolling in.
“And that was, what? Hours ago?”
His hands found your hips. His mouth found your throat. His teeth—
You gasped as he nipped just below your jawline, not hard, just enough to make your knees stutter.
“Satoru—”
“Shhh,” he whispered, already guiding your mug to the counter without even looking. “Let me make up for lost time.”
You barely had time to argue before Satoru's hands were on the backs of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter.
"You're ridiculous," you muttered, trying not to smile.
He hummed against your neck, lips brushing over your pulse. “Mm. That’s Mr. Ridiculous to you.”
“Satoru—”
He cut you off with a slow, open-mouthed kiss, one hand snaking under your shirt while the other gripped your thigh possessively. His touch was warm—needy—like he’d been starving for days and just got a taste of something real.
And when he bit your shoulder through the fabric? You whimpered.
He pulled back just enough to see your face, his eyes glowing with heat and smug satisfaction.
“Oh, you like that,” he said softly.
“I—shut up—”
He grinned, licking a stripe up your throat before kissing the corner of your mouth. “You missed this mouth, huh?”
You opened your mouth to sass him back, but the second he pressed his palm between your legs—firm, teasing—you exhaled hard. Your hands fisted the collar of his shirt as he kissed you again, deeper this time, hips rolling against yours just enough to make you feel how hard he already was through his pants.
“I missed this,” he whispered. “You. Warm. Sweet. Mine.”
He sank to his knees without warning, hooking your thighs over his shoulders as he tugged your shorts down like he was unwrapping a present he'd been waiting all week to open.
“You’re not gonna—Satoru—”
He looked up at you from between your legs, smug and reverent all at once.
“Babe,” he said with a sinful smile, “I didn’t survive three cursed spirits and a bureaucratic meeting with Principal Yaga just to not eat you out on this counter.”
And then his mouth was on you.
Warm. Skilled. Starving. He didn’t rush—he savored, tongue flicking and curling just right, moaning against you like your taste was the only thing that could keep him alive another day. You cried out when he sucked your clit, hips twitching. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you steady.
“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he groaned. “Could do this forever. Might do it forever.”