Satoru’s hands slid up your skirt, as you straddled him on the couch late at night.

You had been complaining about him leaving for work— how you missed him after his long days.

“I know baby, I know. But I have to work,” He chuckles as he looks down at you. His eyes fall down to your thighs and up to your chest, admiring the work of art sitting on him.

“But I’m here now, right?” He says, and your silence makes him frown. He creeps a hand behind your ear. “Hmm?” He mutters for your approval.