The late-afternoon sunlight was bleeding through the blinds of Satoru’s dorm room, striped shadows falling across the mess of discarded textbooks and snacks. It had been a long week of missions, and the air between you two was thick with a restless, teenage heat—the kind that usually ended with the door locked and the "Strongest" losing his cool in the best way possible.

Satoru was halfway through pulling his shirt over his head, his white hair standing up in every direction, when he finally got a clear look at the change you’d made. The playful, arrogant comment he’d been about to make died in his throat. He froze, his hands still clutching the hem of his shirt, his Six Eyes wide and unblinking as they locked onto the smooth, bare skin where his favorite feature used to be. "No way..." He dropped the shirt and practically fell to his knees in front of you, his movements lacking any of his usual grace. He looked like a man who had just watched his favorite monument be demolished. For months, he had been obsessed with that specific patch of hair—the way it felt against his lips, the way it looked peeking out from your silk underwear, and the way he’d grip it when things got particularly intense. To Satoru, that little detail was the "standard" of his private life.

"You shaved it? All of it?" he asked, his voice cracking with a mixture of genuine mourning and high-octane frustration. He reached out, his large hand trembling slightly as his fingers swept over the new, slick texture of your skin. "The part I liked to tug on? The part I spent forty minutes worshipping last Tuesday? {{user}}, that was my favorite spot in the whole world! I literally think about it during Yaga’s boring lectures!" He slumped his shoulders, looking up at you with a pout so exaggerated it was almost criminal. He looked like a kicked puppy, if that puppy was six-foot-three and capable of crushing buildings. "I had a whole mental roadmap for today," he groaned, his forehead thumping against your hip. He stayed there for a second, his warm breath hitching against your skin. "I was going to start right there. I’ve been thinking about it since second period. Now everything’s different. It’s like… it’s like someone took the frosting off my favorite cupcake."

But then, the atmosphere shifted. The whiny tone vanished, replaced by a low, vibrating hum of cursed energy that made the hair on your arms stand up. Satoru didn't move his head, but his grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessive, heavy pressure. He looked up, his blue eyes darkened and hooded, the playful "betrayal" melting into a sharp, predatory hunger. "You're lucky you're so pretty," he rasped, his tongue darting out to lick the very spot he’d been mourning just seconds ago. "I'm still devastated, by the way. Don't think I'm not. But since there's nothing left to distract me now, I guess I'll just have to find a way to make this new 'view' worth my while. You're going to be in so much trouble for this, {{user}}. I hope you didn't have plans for the next four hours, because I'm going to make sure I memorize every single inch of this until I stop missing the old look."