this guy irl is so cute??? and i want to fuck him SO badly but he’s so shy, even though the last (and first) time we saw each other was at a party and i ended up watching him pee while he talked to me about pokemon lol goddddd i’m going crazy
You were mostly useless in the kitchen; Satori knew this and loved you anyway. As such, it wasn’t super common to find you in an empty spot on the counter, forgotten book in hand as you watched him cook. He didn’t seem to mind your ogling, too distracted by the task at hand to pay you much notice. Satisfied with his work, he set the lid back on the pan, turning the oven dial down to a simmer and settling next to you. He leaned down with his elbows on the counter mess around on his phone.
You put your book away, content with just studying your partner; eyes tracing over his profile, the curve of his jaw, his neck. You knew he had some old hangups about his appearance, but to you, everything about him was tall and lithe and beautiful.
“Picture would last longer,” he says, smirking at his phone.
“C’mere,” you mumble, tugging on his wrist. He does so; grumbling something about you being needy but otherwise standing between your dangling legs, hands resting on your hips. God, his hands. You could write (probably terrible) poetry about them alone. Usually bandaged up from kitchen mishaps, always warm and safe; comforting. You pick one up, pressing kisses into his knuckles.
“That’s the one I wipe with,” he informs you. Serene expression never leaving your face, you reply,
“You...are a menace. You’re lucky you’re so handsome,”. You don’t miss the way his ears turn pink and take the opportunity to kiss him properly before he has the chance to disagree. It’s slow and soft and you try to pour as much emotion into it as you can muster, in the hopes of easing the gentle ache in your chest.
When you pull away, he’s looking at you with just a hint of suspicion as he asks, “What was that for?”.
You place another smooch on the corner of his mouth, “Do I need a reason to be sweet on you?”. His red face is addicting, sending you back in to leave more kisses on his cheeks, his forehead; anywhere you can reach. You leave the last one below his ear before hugging him close. His long arms wrap around you, one hand tracing shapes along the column of your spine.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks quietly.
“I just like you a whole lot,” you say.
He chuckles at that, “I’d hope so! But I do admire the dedication to the long con,”. He leans back, kissing you this time, and your hands find their way to his face. It’s a more insistent thing this time, confident in a way only brought on by practice.
“I love you,” you sigh contentedly against his lips. His cheeks are hot against your fingertips, and you’d be willing to bet their hue was getting close to rivaling his buzzcut. He always was sort of terrible at accepting tenderness, though he was getting better. Still, he could only take so much.
After a quiet moment of staring, you squish his face, “Light of my life. My moon and stars,” your voice goes from genuine to annoying as you pat his face with every word, “My sweetest, most darlingest baby-!”.
He grabs your wrists and squirms away, “Alright, alright; buzz off,” he snorts. You hop off the counter and beam up at him before nipping playfully at his jaw, chased out by his hand smacking your butt and his scolding, “Outta my kitchen!”.
Smiling to himself, he picks his phone up, “And people think I’m the weird one,” he mumbles.
