Satoru is not a morning person. Sure, he’ll brag about "peak performance at all hours," but before coffee? He’s a mumbling, half-conscious mess—hair sticking up, blindfold crooked, and completely unprepared for your attack.

You slid out of bed quietly, heading to the kitchen to the sight of him by the counter, fumbling with the coffee maker.

"M’kay… button… why buttons…" He mumbled groggily.

When you wrapped your arms around him, he looked back at you,

"Good mo–" Caught off guard by you yanking his blindfold down, your lips crashing against his, Satoru hummed quietly, his sleepy and unfocused eyes fluttering closed as he turned around to hold you.