staying w satoru while the plumber's at your house °❀.࿔
“A week?” you repeated, absolutely flabbergasted as you looked up at the plumber standing in your kitchen.
He nodded in consolidation.
“It’s a broken pipe,” you say, gesturing at the mess of metal underneath your sink. “Can’t you do it faster? I’ll pay you more.”
“I’m sorry, Miss. It requires a replacement part that we don’t have on hand so we have to order it. It’ll take a few days to get here and then a few days to fix,” he explained, bending down to show you some parts of the sink that you didn’t care to understand.
You helplessly looked around your tiny apartment, counting only one other sink in your counterless bathroom–one that didn’t have running hot water. Yet another thing you needed to complain to your landlord about in your janky apartment.
“So, what, I’m just not supposed to have hot water for the week?” you asked.
The plumber crawled out from the cabinet under your sink and shrugged sympathetically. “Honestly, I would recommend staying with a friend or in a hotel for the time being. Once the part gets here, we’ll be doing dangerous work in the kitchen and we don’t want to risk you getting hurt accidentally.”
You sighed and rubbed your temples.
“We won’t charge you for the part, for the inconvenience,” he said apologetically.
“That’s fine,” You conceded as you showed him out and exchanged some paperwork. “Thanks for your help.”
Now for the fun part: finding someone to stay with.
Your family wasn’t local. You know Shoko was really busy this week, so you didn’t want to bother her. You weren’t close enough to stay with any of your other friends. That left you with two options: staying in a hotel, or staying with Satoru, and you were much too broke to stay in a hotel for a week.
Reluctantly, you hit the call button.
He picked up on the first ring.
You could already tell this would be a mistake.
“Hey, um, what are you doing this week?” You asked and immediately winced, bracing for rejection.
“Oh, you know, the usual.” You actually didn’t know. “Why?”
“Well… I’m having some work done in my apartment this week, and I can’t afford a hotel, so I was wondering if I-”
You’re cut off by his obnoxious laughter. “Seriously? You don’t have to ask, you know that. I’ll pick you up this evening.”
“Oh, um, thank you so much, Satoru.” you quickly thanked, trying to catch up to what was happening.
You quickly busied yourself with packing a small suitcase with your essentials, plus copies of important documents in case worse came to worse. You had a scrappy dinner of whatever leftovers were just going to rot away in your fridge in the upcoming week. And, before you knew it, Satoru himself was at your front door.
You threw away your paper plate, left no other choice with a sink that didn’t work.
You smiled gratefully at Satoru when he opened the door and he took your suitcase without asking.
“Hey, thanks again. I really appreciate it.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “No problem. Ready?”
You nodded and let him lead you to his car. He loaded your bag into the trunk and took off in the direction towards his apartment.
“I haven’t been to your house in a while,” you muttered, looking out the window.
“It’s about the same since the last time you were there,” he said and you nodded.
You turned to look at him. “You’re not gonna ask what happened?”
He grinned. “What happened?”
“The pipe under my sink burst,” you told him. “They need to order a new part because they don’t have it.”
He laughs again. “Yikes. This kinda stuff only happens to you, doesn’t it?”
You sighed, letting your head fall back on the headrest. “Yep, fuck me, I guess.”
After a few minutes of pointless chatter and lots of snickering on Satoru’s part, you pull up to the complex. When you arrive in the elevator with all your stuff, he clicks the… 40th floor?
“Since when did you live in the penthouse?” you asked. “You said it was the same as last time I was here.”
“Oh,” he shrugged. “Just a small change. Guess it slipped my mind.”
“Asshole,” you muttered and stepped out of the elevator into the biggest fucking penthouse you’ve ever seen.
You guess your mouth must have been open, because then he says, “You’re gonna let flies in there.” You quickly shut it. You forgot how absolutely loaded he was.
He grinned, picking up your suitcase with one hand. “Your room is over here!”
He led you down one of many hallways, opening a door to a sparsely decorated guest bedroom.
“This will be your room. I’m right across the hall if you need anything,” he winked under his stupid sunglasses.
“Hey, thanks again, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your–”
“I told you, it’s no problem.” he grinned. “Goodnight!”
And with that, he was gone.
The rest of the evening went smoothly. It wasn’t until morning that you remembered why he was your last choice of who to stay with.
You had woken up early to take a shower in the massive on suite bathroom connected to your room, using the fancy soaps and shampoos that were left for you by your white haired host.
You were in your room in nothing but a towel, looking through your suitcase for some clothes, when the door burst open without warning.
In came Satoru with a ridiculously high stack of pancakes.
“Goooood morning, I brought you some breakfast and–”
“Oh my gosh!” you hissed and held the towel tighter around your chest. “Get out!”
“Relax, would ya?” he said dismissively, not even looking as he set the pancakes down on an empty table. “It’s not like you’re naked.”
“All right, all right.” He held his hands up in mock surrender and left the room, not before calling out, “you’re welcome!”
You stood in shock for a moment, eyes drifting to the pile of blueberry pancakes he had brought you. Who on earth brings pancakes unannounced at nine in the morning?
You eventually finished getting ready for the day, taking your untouched pancakes out with you to find Satoru himself cleaning the kitchen.
“Hey, how were the pancakes?” he asked joyfully, clearly not bothered by what had happened earlier.”
“Uhhhh, well,” you didn’t get a chance to tell him you hadn’t eaten them yet, because he turned to look at your full plate and frowned.
“Are they not good?” he asked.
You quickly shook your head, not wanting to seem rude. “No, I just haven’t had a chance to try them yet.”
He turned off the sink where he was doing the dishes and was instantly in front of you with a clean fork.
“Well, we should change that, shouldn’t we?”
“Say ‘ahhh’~” he grinned as he brought a forkful of pancake up to your mouth. You accepted the bite, confused at what was going on.
What on earth was happening?
Your host was feeding you pancakes. This couldn’t get any weirder.
You were wrong about that, too, because he then used his thumb to wipe the crumbs off the corner of your mouth.
“How are they?” he asked, completely unbothered as he licked the crumbs off his finger.
“Cold,” was all you could say as you willed your face not to flush red.
“I’ll make some more tomorrow,” he shrugged and walked out of the kitchen, leaving you even more confused.
A few nights later, you were in the kitchen on the phone with the plumber.
“Three more days?” you repeated. “Yes, that sounds good. Okay. Thank you so much, have a good evening.”
You set your phone down, only realizing how strange the quietness was. After living with a man as obnoxious as Satoru for a few days, you had gotten used to all the noise.
Glancing at the front door, you saw his shoes and his keys, meaning he was somewhere in the penthouse. You sighed, not bothering to think too much about it.
You took your phone and decided to head back to your room to get some sleep, only to pause in front of Satoru’s room. The door was ajar and the lights were on inside.
“Satoru?” You called out, peeking your head inside. “I’m going to bed now.”
You huffed, pushing the door open and noticing his bathroom door was ajar, as well.
“Satoru?” Walking closer, you could make out what sounded like his voice.
You didn’t hear the shower running, so you walked to the door, only pausing when you heard… your name?
“Satoru,” you gently peeled the door back, only to freeze dead in your tracks when you saw him leaning against the bathtub, palming himself through his sweatpants.
“Shit,” he huffed, turning to look at you with a flushed face. “Thought you were seeing your plumber?”
You swallowed, trying to find your voice. “It was just a phone call.”
You blinked, suddenly realizing where you were as your heartbeat pounded in your chest. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’ll just- I’ll just go now.”
You had barely turned around when he called your name.
“Help me out?” he asked, trying his best to act nonchalant when he was clearly bothered.
“You.. what?” you repeated in surprise.
He grinned, and you only then registered how massive the tent in his pants was.
“This is your fault, you know,” he said.
“Me?” you asked, taken aback. “What did I do?”
“Always walkin’ around in those,” he pointed lazily to the shorts you were wearing. “So mean. It’s only fair if you help me.”
You scoffed. “It’s not my fault you keep it, like, a million degrees in here.”
“It’s room temperature in here,” he said defensively. “You gonna just stand there?”
“Asshole,” you accuse, finally shutting the bathroom door behind you and going over to where he was sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out and his head resting on the ledge of the empty bathtub. You kneeled in between his legs, suddenly less intimidated by the dilemma in between his legs.
You helped him pull down the top of his pants and his boxers, watching as he took himself into one of his hands, stroking himself a few times.
“Can’t believe you got all this worked up over some shorts,” You muttered, swatting his hand away to take him into your hands. He was massive, the tip flushed pink as you had to use both hands just to cover a majority of the surface.
“‘S not my fault,” he all but whined as you bent down to give an experimental lick to the head, dragging your tongue down one of the sides and back up. “You walk around like you own the place in those itty bitty shorts.”
You didn’t bother to reply, instead busying yourself with taking the entire tip into your mouth, using your hands to stroke what you didn’t have in your mouth.
“Fuck,” he hissed, hands going to guide your head, finally pushing you down all the way. You did your best not to gag when he hit the back of your throat, using one of your hands to grab onto his thigh for purchase.
Impatient, you thought, filing that away to curse him out for later.
You let him guide your head up and down, sucking and using a hand to stroke what your mouth couldn’t take. He kept talking, telling you how good you felt and that he should’ve done this sooner.
He lasted maybe five minutes, you realized, when his moaning turned into whining.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m.. I’m gonna…”
You didn’t stop or slow down, only speeding up when his hands gripped your hair tighter. You kept working him through his release, letting him spill hot into your mouth, feeling the saltiness go down your throat.
You pulled off of him finally, looking up to see his eyes wide and dazed, his breathing labored as he let go of your hair.
He smiled sheepishly. “You should just move in.”
You rolled your eyes and wiped your mouth. “In your dreams.”
He leaned his head back and shut his eyes, but not before you poked his chest to get his attention.
“Hey,” you said, and he lifted his head to catch your grin.
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