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frantic-fiction · 1 year ago

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Tension 18+

Pic: littlelovelore

Astarion x f!reader

Summary: During a solo mission, Astarion takes the opportunity to indulge in some "depraved carnal lust".

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Slight enemies to lovers, sex bent over a desk, sex with clothes on, mild choking, rough sex, reader handles her crush like a fifth grader (by being mean) Astarion is his smug self

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Back-to-back posts brought to you by Bree's insomnia...Enjoy!

"Do you want me to do it?" Astarion smugly asks, flicking his wrist sharply, sending a dagger into the wood beam before him. He's leaning against the cracked wall of the tunnel. A condescending smile stretches across his pale lips.

"Shut the fuck up!" You snap, twisting the lockpick violently, it's stuck on something, and it is pissing you off.

"My my, someone's testy today." The Vampire pushes off the wall to retrieve his dagger, only for you to hear the same thud of the knife hitting the abused beam once again.

You clench your jaw, wanting nothing more than to drown the bastard in the small stream of gray water. See him try to be a smartass when he's choking on sewage.

No! Just breathe.

As soon as you get this damn door open, all you need is to grab the stolen lease for the damn butcher, and the party will have a nice payout. Then Astarion's snarky comments and teasing jabs can be ignored behind a glass of ale and a nice meal.

Well, if you don't kill him first.

The relationship between you and the Vampire is a complex one, to say the least. Astarion is an arrogant, pompous dick. You're a temperamental stubborn asshole. It made for a messy mix of harsh insults and constant attempts to belittle the other.

It would have been so easy to hate him completely, but Astarion can be sweet under the cloak of night, and you could almost pretend he's a tolerable person when he speaks those honey-coated words. And when you let him feed from you, everything became so much more complicated.

The pick snaps, and you drop your head, groaning in frustration. You stand up and kick hard against a crate; the decayed wood breaks against your boot. Sighing in defeat, you motion to the rogue.

Astarion laughs smoothly, tucking the knife away, and exchanges it for his thieves' tools. Giving you a wink, he bends down to examine the lock. You pretend not to admire the swell of his ass, but who are you kidding Astarion is extremely attractive.

With little to no fanfare, the lock turns over, and Astarion opens the door. "After you."

"I fucking hate you." You grumble, pushing past, making a point to shove your shoulder hard into the rouge.

"Keep telling yourself that Darling,"

You flip him off.

The sewer system is a winding path of tunnels leading to various places. The two of you walk in silence for a few minutes.

"Are you sure we are going the right way?" Astarion asks, breaking the peace.

"Of course, this is the right way." You hiss, glaring over your shoulder. "I can read a map."

"Just like you could pick a lock, yes?"

You don't think you've ever seen a more punchable face. You're almost tempted to smack him just to see his reaction. Instead, you practice a semblance of self-control and ignore him.

After a few more turns, you hit a dead end. It's nothing but a damp brick wall. Scanning the map, you're sure you followed all the proper steps; there should be an entrance. Stowing the stupid paper away, you begin feeling the brick for any invisible button, unwilling to admit defeat in front of Astarion. All hideouts have secret levers. Right?

"Well, sweetheart, I think you've gotten us lost."

"No, I didn't, jackass, now be useful for once and help me." You bend down and begin trailing your fingertips against the rough bricks near the floor.

"I don't think I will. I'm quite enjoying the view from here."

You look back towards the rogue, "What are you talking about–" you choke on your words.

Astarion is shamelessly eyeing your form. A fang tugs at his bottom lip, hunger darkening his eyes. You swallow hard, and a flame ignites low in your stomach. You have a sudden urge to press him against the wall. That thought startles you. This is Astarion. The obnoxious, arrogant, attractive–no, stop that. You stand up and shake your head, willing your thoughts to clear.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh and dig through your bag.

Retrieving the knock scroll, Gale scribed for you. Repeating the steps he told you to do, you mumbled the incantation, and soon enough, what was once a solid brick wall cracked open to reveal a hidden path.

"Told you I knew where I was going," you boast, sticking your tongue out childishly.

Astarion smirks, "Yes, a broken clock is right twice a day."

Scoffing, you shove him hard, causing him to take a few steps to correct his footing. The entrance leads to a broken-down ladder and a worn wooden hatch. Astarion steps up to pick the lock and lifts the hatch barely to survey the room. He pushes the trapdoor open and enters.

Following suit, you find yourself in a dusty broom closet. Astarion is already at the door to the hallway, a sliver of light pouring through the crack. Closing the trapdoor, you cross your arms and wait for Astarion to turn back to you.

"It's abandoned."

"Are you sure?"

Scoffing, Astarion doesn't answer. He pushes the door open and begins down the hall. You follow after him.

The small hideout is plainly decorated, the common room has a dingy sofa and a coffee table. The fireplace is dead; not even embers remain. Good. In the corner, there looks to be an unfinished game of cards. The faded carpet runner leads down the hall to a large ornate door.

Astarion is already opening the door by the time you reach him. By the looks of it, this is the boss's office. A large oak desk sat in the middle room. A plush chair pulled slightly away as if someone hadn't bothered to move it back. Bookshelves line the back wall.

"Secure the door," you say as you move to the window to the left of the door. You hear Astarion mumble something but don't quite catch his words.

The window is a short drop good for a quick escape if needed.

You move to the desk and begin rifling through the papers on the desk. Tax documents, random notes, crappy doodles, and a cringey love letter, but not what you're looking for. You rip open the first drawer. Nothing. Second drawer. Nothing. Third, nothing.

"Astarion, did you find anything?"

"Nothing important." His sultry voice is deep and so very close to your ear.

Your heart drops, but you suppress any other signs of distress, knowing that is exactly what he's looking for. Sighing In annoyance, you turn around to face Astarion and cross your arms over your chest.

"Are you even trying to look for the damn paper? We need to get what we're here for and get the fuck out!"

Astarion's mouth cracks into a cheeky grin, and he closes in on you. You back against the desk instinctually, reaching a hand up that lands on his firm chest. Astarion has you caged against the desk, each hand on either side of your hips. You know Astarion can hear the thrumming of your heart and the shaky inhalation of your breath, and you curse your body for betraying you.

He bends his head down to press his mouth against your ear. "What if I'm looking for something else?"

You freeze. What did he mea–

The thought is forgotten because he's slamming his lips onto yours. You gasp in surprise, and Astarion wastes no time, delving his tongue into your mouth and claiming it as his.

The slight metallic taste of blood that lingers on his tongue should repulse you but has you moaning desperately for more. You grip your fist tightly into the fabric of Astarion's armor. His body is flush against yours, but you need more. You scratch your nails up his neck and tangle your fingers into his hair. Astarion groans into your mouth, biting at your bottom lip.

Everything is hazy, and you're lost in the kiss. Your thoughts are slow to catch up with the situation, too consumed by the taste of his lips. Astarion's lips. Astarion.

You push him away, chest heaving in rapid breaths. "What are you doing?"

"I'd hope my intentions would be obvious by now." He grins and dives back to kiss down your neck, dragging his teeth against your skin. "I could be more obvious if that would clear things up."

A sharp bite of his mouth at your throat drags a choked gargle from your swollen lips. You feel dizzy from the scent of rosemary and bergamot invading your nose. Lightheaded from the sudden turn of events. Astarion presses a knee between your legs, applying firm pressure against your burning arousal.

Gods, what was he doing to you?

Needing to gain any form of control, you tug sharply at the roots of his silver curls, drawing a hiss from the man.

You finally manage to gasp out, "We hate each other." As if that would somehow clear up your raging thoughts.

Except, could you hate someone who is making you feel so good?

Cold fingers trail against the skin between your leather armor and trousers. Astarion's deft hands start pulling at the lace of your pants. Another wave of arousal warms your body, and you feel drunk on the pale elf.

"You say that, yet I don't think you want me to stop." He purrs, halting his movements, and meets your eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head, desperate for more. Your dignity couldn't live with letting Astarion reduce you to a begging mess. However, if you were honest with yourself, you're already halfway there. Reaching out, you grab for his belt.

Astarion was having none of that. He's quick to twirl you around and press your torso flush against the top of the desk. A stack of paper flies off and scatters to the ground, but neither of you put much care into it. Astarion grinds his front roughly against your ass, and you moan at the feeling of his hardening cock against you.

"No, no, no, my dear, use your words."

"Gods, are you always so fucking annoying?" You whine pressing back and rolling your ass against him. Astarion grunts, gripping your hips tightly. "Are you going to fuck me, or should I just take care of myself?"

Astarion groans, rocking against each roll of your hips. "There's my spitfire."

"I'm not yours."

Astarion tugs at your pants and underwear, pulling them over your rear and letting them pool around your ankles. You kick off your boots and free yourself, leaving your lower half bare to the open air. A shiver rushes up your spine as the cold air hits your dripping heat.

Astarion's slim fingers trail down your folds, and you bite your lips to stifle a cry. Tilting your head back, you see the rogue admiring the slick coating his fingers.

"You might not be mine, darling." Astarion slips his drenched fingers into his mouth, and you watch, mouth agape, as he swirls his tongue to clean each digit. "But who else has seen you bent over a desk looking as desperate and delicious as you do now?"

"I could name a few," you say cheekily, earning you a smack on the flesh of your backside.

Astarion gropes the reddened skin and bends down, blanketing you with his body. You feel the soft pants of his breath cascade over your neck as Astarion brings his lips to your ear.

"Then it seems I'm just going to have to ruin you for anyone else." Astarion practically growls and licks along the shell of your ear before taking the lobe in between his mouth and teasing it with his teeth. You don't recall hearing Astarion unclasp his belt, but when you feel his bare cock rub against your back, all you can do is arch your back and moan.

"Astarion," you part your legs more in silent invitation.

"Yes, my dear," His voice is smug as he rocks against you. He knows what you want but wants to hear you say it.

The head of his cock parts your folds and moves to tease your desperate clit; a collective moan fills the room, but it is not enough for either of you. And knowing that the two of you are currently in the middle of dangerous territory means there is no time to play.

"Stop being a prick and fuck me."

"Have I ever told you, you always have such a way with words." Astarion chuckles before plunging deep into your cunt.

A shaky cry leaves your lips, all air seemingly ripped from your lungs. Astarion is bigger than most men you've slept with prior - though you wouldn't dare voice that out loud in case it inflates his already-inflated ego. The stretch holds a delicious sting, and you feel the beginning of the burn of tears at the corner of your eyes.

Astarion's still his hips for a moment, letting you collect yourself. His thumbs are rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back and peppering kisses across your neck. Once the sting of his initial entrance simmers to a stirring heat, you tell him to move.

"Hells you're so tight." Astarion groans as he sets a teasing pace, dragging the rugged ridges of his cock out before plunging back in at the same agonizing pace.

A pace you could imagine sharing intimately with Astarion all night somewhere secluded. Perhaps your tent or an isolated clearing, not a random gang's currently empty hideout. And since you're not one to play nice, you decide to play with fire instead.

Pushing up on your elbows, you move your head to look back at Astarion, a playful smirk on your lips. "You say you're going to ruin me, but I think Gale could be doing a better job of it right now."

Astarion's body freezes just as you hoped he would react. He shoots you a look full of daggers and bares his teeth in annoyance. Without comprehending entirely what's happening, Astarion pulls out of you and, with a strength you have not seen from the Vampire (the same Vampire who asks others on multiple occasions to carry his pack because it's too heavy), flips you over and has you seated firmly back on the desk leaving you dizzy but feeling giddy as a schoolgirl.

"Oh darling, you're going to regret that."

Astarion rams back into your pussy and begins to thrust quick and brutally deep into your body. His cold hand is wrapped around your throat, holding it firmly enough to keep your eyes locked onto him.

Your legs link around his lean hips, pulling him deeper into you. Moaning desperately, you run one of your hands up under his leather armor, splaying it across his stomach. You grab his face and pull him into a kiss, all tongue and teeth and perfection.

The desk is groaning under the movement of your bodies. Random knick-knacks are clanging to the floor. A bottle of whiskey shatters, and the pungent aroma wafts into the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and slick.

"You and that mouth of yours." He breathes deep into your ear. "Always so confident, so snarky, so bratty."

"M-more…" you choke, clenching around his length, desperate for anything and everything he will give you.

"Do you think the wizard could handle you?" The hand not firmly holding your neck snakes between your legs and begins to play with your clit.

"Gods A-star.." You gasp, eyes rolling back.

"Could he or anyone else make you feel this good?" Astarion's hand tightens slightly against your neck, and the lack of oxygen leaves you feeling dizzy and euphoric.

"N-no…please."

"After me, no one will ever be able to satisfy you." His thumb is now rubbing fast, tight circles against your clit. "Fuck, that's it, squeeze me just like that."

Gripping onto the desk, you shift your hips, and Astarion is now hitting deeper into your abused cunt. You tighten your legs around his waist, urging him to go faster. That delicious coil is beginning to burn deep in your stomach, and you know you won't last much longer.

"Tell me, who's making you feel this good," Astarion demands, voice husky.

"Y-you,"

"And when you come on my cock, I want you to scream my name." He grunts, and the thrust of his hips is beginning to become sloppier. "I want to hear just how good I make you feel."

Everything is too much. Astarion's sinful words, the harsh thrust of his hips combined with the tight circles of his thumb on your clit, the musky smell of Astarion's sweat mingling with yours, and the intense fragrance of the spilled whiskey.

You don't remember the details, just the wave of euphoria as the coil snaps and your orgasm washes over you. The words that spill from your lips hold no meaning in your clouded mind. The only thing that holds context is the feeling of Astarion stuttering thrusts of his hips as he chases his release from your spent body.

And when he stills, and the world falls silent apart for your combined pants of breath, all you do is brush the curls off his forehead and kiss his cheek. Why? You're not sure, but that's something you'll ask yourself later.

Once you return to relatively normal breathing, Astarion moves from his slumped position against your body. He stares at you in astonishment.

"Well, that happened." You offer because what else were you supposed to say?

Astarion breaks out into a genuine laugh, full belly and joyful as he tucks himself away. You couldn't help but join in as you move to put your clothes on.

"Yes, my sweet, I suppose that did happen."

"So where-"

The two of you jump at a commotion coming from the hall. Someone is jingling the doorknob, trying to open it; when it doesn't budge, there is a loud bang followed by an even louder shout of anger.

"Fuck!" You quickly finish tying your boots and collect your gear.

"Seems like our friends are back from their trip. I believe it's time to go." Astarion says as he moves to the window and opens it. Without waiting for you to respond, he gives you a devilish smirk and jumps out.

"Shit, the paper." You sigh, knowing you'll never hear the end of it.

By the time you make it to the window, the door is being busted in, and a very angry-looking dwarf is storming into the room. You smile at him and give him a salute before diving out the window, knowing Astarion will be there to catch you.

***Later at camp***

"What do you mean you didn't get the document?" Gale yells, the others equally baffled by you and Astarion's failure. "That was the only thing you needed to get!"

You shrink in on yourself looking to Astarion for help. "I...I don"

Astarion rolls his eyes. "Stealing objects from heavily populated hideouts is harder than you might think, wizard."

"That's why we sent you two!"

"Then perhaps next time-"

"HOLY SHIT!" Karlach interrupts, drawing everyone's attention. She's pointing straight at you with a look of bafflement. "Soldier's got a fucking hickey."

You clamp a hand over the spot Astarion was biting at earlier, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole.

Shadowheart's face scrunches up in disgust. "Please don't tell me, we're not getting paid because you two idiots decided to fuck?"

"Darling, it would seem the cat's out of the bag." The bastard has the audacity to look proud.

"I hate you all." You groan and storm off to your tent, contemplating just how bad it would be to join the Absolute.

Feedback always makes my day so let me know what you guys thought. And if you're looking for something sweet to balance out the spice check out my last post right here.

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#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #reader insert #fanfic #astarion smut #smut #bg3 smut #frantic fiction

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dandylovesturtles · 9 months ago

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explaining the train of thought that got me to this would take way too much backstory but basically I had an idea and then I wrote it. I rewatched Scream recently so maybe that helps lol

cw: death (not of a canon character), mentions of blood and vomit

-----

The call comes in at a little after 2 AM, and he almost doesn’t answer because he’s busy.

But Leo almost never calls him, and it’s a singular enough occurrence that he picks up the phone and hits the button.

“Hello, you are conversing with Donatello,” he greets. “Make it quick, Nardo, I’m elbow deep in the tank’s engine.”

On the other end of the line, Leo is silent. Or, mostly silent; Donnie can hear him breathing, a little too loud, a little too fast.

Suddenly, he’s on high alert. He sits back from the tank, speaking more urgently into the phone, “Leo?”

There’s another second of breathing, and then, finally, in a voice that is too high and panicked to be his normal joking tone, he says, “Hey, remember when I sent you that meme about siblings who will beat the crap out of each other one minute and hide a body for each other the next, and I said, “us,” and you gave it a heart?”

Donnie blinks. Processes that string of words.

“I think I recall it,” he says.

“Well,” says Leo. “I need to know if that’s really us.”

Donnie stands up and keys in the command to swap battleshells to the jetpack.

“Stay where you are,” he says. “I’m on my way.”

-----

The body is male. Early twenties. About six two or six three. Caucasian. Wearing some ghoulish mask like the serial killer in a bad teen slasher.

Actually, now that Donnie thinks about it, there’s been stuff on the news lately. About a guy who likes to knife up co-eds. And Leo’s wearing his biggest, baggiest hoodie, and jeans, and in a dark alley like this it would be easy to mistake him for a normal, non-mutated human teen.

The puzzle pieces are all laid out for Donnie, but the picture it paints is pretty unbelievable.

Then again, he’s a mutant turtle who grew up in a sewer and recently fended off an alien invasion. His bar for believable is pretty low.

He takes in the body, slashed across the chest, ridiculous getup soaked in blood. Then he turns to look at Leo, curled around his knees against the wall. There’s blood all over him, too, but Donnie feels pretty confident that most of it is not his own. There’s a puddle of vomit nearby, and a dagger, and a katana, cast aside.

Leo raises his eyes to meet Donnie’s. “I didn’t know he was human.”

Donnie looks back at the body, and at the mask. Connects it to the dagger, which definitely isn’t Leo’s.

“Seems like he was a great guy,” Donnie says.

“He stabbed my arm.”

“I meant it sarcastically.”

Leo laughs, high and reedy. Then he leans over and vomits again.

Donnie can’t help but curl his snout at that one. He looks away and waits for Leo to finish.

There’s a spit, then a sniff, then Leo says, “He stabbed my arm and I turned around and saw the mask.”

Ah yes, that. It’s pink and has a serrated smile. Little rubbery bits of slime and ooze. These things got popular after the invasion - they aren’t anywhere near the real thing, but in a dark alley, under attack, alone, when Leo had…

The puzzle pieces are there. Donnie doesn’t really need an explanation to put it together.

Actually, scratch that: he does need an explanation for one thing.

“Why are you so upset about this?” He looks back at Leo. “You took out a serial killer. Or a wannabe serial killer. At the very least a stabber.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” says Leo immediately. A little pleading. “I didn’t think that would… I didn’t know he was human.”

“He attacked you.”

“I could have disarmed him. I could have trapped him and let the police deal with him.”

“He came up behind you in this creepy mask and stabbed your arm.”

“He didn’t stand a chance against me,” says Leo, and it’s not swaggering and not boastful, but horrified. “It was like tearing paper, Dee. It was so easy.”

Donnie leaves the body to kneel in front of his brother. He puts his hands on his shoulders, looking him straight in the eye to make sure he listens.

“He attacked you, Nardo. He wanted to kill you. He made the wrong choice. Not you.”

Leo looks down, at the blood on his hoodie, and Donnie squeezes his shoulders until they lock eyes again.

“He made the wrong choice,” Donnie repeats emphatically.

Leo sighs, like he’s giving in, and a rueful smile grows on his face. “Thanks, hermano. But I don’t think the EPF is gonna see it that way.”

Ah yes, the good old United States government, and their hilariously poorly titled Earth Protection Force. Since the invasion, their existence had become known to the EPF, and they’ve been in an unspoken truce ever since. A “live and let live” holding pattern.

Unfortunately, Donnie has to admit Leo is right on this one: that this man is likely and most probably a serial killer won’t matter to the EPF. Killing any human crosses a line they won’t tolerate.

And so, there is only one solution here. The one Leo proposed when he first called.

Donnie is going to help him hide a body.

…Which means he is going to have to touch it.

Leo frowns at him. “Uh, Dee, what’s the yarf-face for?”

“I just realized how gross this is going to be.”

Leo laughs again, more than a little hysterical, and lets his head fall against Donnie’s plastron, the giggles shaking his shoulders under Donnie’s hands.

“That wasn’t a joke,” Donnie insists. Leo just laughs even harder.

Donnie scowls, even as he pulls Leo closer. “That meme really is us. I want to beat the crap out of you right now.”

Leo howls with laughter. Except it sounds a little more like sobbing now. Donnie gathers him up and holds him until he’s better again.

-----

Across the Hudson, the sky is turning pink. Donnie stands with Leo, watching the water that the body disappeared under.

They’ve already scrubbed the alley clean of any blood traces - his and Leo’s. He also had his drones bring gloves with the cleaning supplies, so they didn’t leave any fingerprints. At least Leo had the sense not to touch anything. And it’s not like the government has their prints on file, anyway. Donnie’s checked.

There wasn’t anything they could really do to hide the massive laceration that led to the body’s death. Short of melting it in acid, but both of them had dismissed that idea as soon as Donnie raised it. Despite what Donnie thinks of himself, he isn’t actually a stone cold disposer of bodies. The idea of melting it was too gross to think about.

Besides, it doesn’t matter if the body gets found, as long as it doesn’t get traced back to them. And Donnie doesn’t see any reason it should.

He’s already hacked any security cameras near the scene and made sure Leo doesn’t show up on any of them. Leo’s a good enough ninja to avoid that sort of thing, anyway, not that Donnie will admit it out loud. The crabs and fish will take care of the flesh and the katana’s mark. Leo destroyed the weapon itself in a bright blue explosion of ninpo.

“It’s kind of a bummer,” says Leo after a minute, “that the murders will go unsolved.”

“No, they won’t.” Donnie pulls out a phone, holding it carefully with his gloves. “He helpfully took trophy photos.”

Leo’s eyes go wide. “Dude, did you fish around in his pockets?”

Donnie can’t help but curl his lips. “Ugh, don’t remind me. It was a very unpleasant experience and I don’t want to repeat it.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Find where he lived and leave it there.” Donnie shrugs. “His body will turn up, or he’ll get reported missing. The cops will find it and everything will be wrapped up in a neat little bow.”

“Huh. Guess that takes care of that.” A pause. Leo shuffles a bit next to him. “You’re… really calm about this.”

Is he? Since the moment he got that phone call, he entered Fix It mode. He hasn’t really thought of anything else since.

“I don’t know if I will be later,” he admits.

“I’ll be there, if you’re not.”

Donnie hums an acknowledgement. There’s a weight against his arm, Leo leaning into him.

“Thanks, Dee,” he says.

“You’d do the same for me,” Donnie replies.

“Yeah,” Leo agrees. Simple as that.

#rottmnt #dandy fanfiction #rise donnie #rise leo #disaster twins #cw blood #cw vomit #it occurred to me he could just portal the thing to the ocean but like #where's the fun in that #so no

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nymphea0 · 8 months ago

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Until Death My Love

Part 4 (END).

Yandere husband x Wife Reader

Warning : mention of fire, chase scenes, and some mature content, mention of sleeping drug.

Please read the warning before you start to reading this story, might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. I think to make a special chapter what do you think? Should i make it?. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

Word Count Around : 1679 Word

Story Part 1 : Until Death My Love

Story Part 2 : Until Death My Love

Story Part 3 : Until Death My Love

'Brooklyn, New York.'

It's been a month since you ran away from your house and your husband.

You admit that you are very scared, you believe all of Roana's words that said that Alex, your husband, would kill you because you were caught entering his secret room.

You always knew that Alex loved you very much, but you didn't know that he had even noticed you during school, somehow you felt like he was stalking you behind his friendly smile.

Picture of yourself that were taken secretly, the body of someone who was quite familiar with you. You can't believe that Alex did that, your husband who you always thought was a normal man who was successful working as a coal company CEO turned out to be just a disguise as a mafia associate, you feel like he has deceived you.

This morning you will start your work as a library cleaning staff in the corner of Brooklyn, New York.

The city is quite crowded, the population is quite dense, and it is very easy to find work here. While cleaning the library bookshelves, sometimes you think about going back to Alex, your husband, maybe if you didn't follow Roana's words, you might be relaxing at home right now.

But you are not ready for the risk of what Alex will do if he finds out that you know his little secret.

But the rice has become porridge, you can't turn back what has happened.

The Graze Library, or more like an old bookstore, is deserted and the salary you get is not that big, but at least it is enough to support yourself.

It's been 1 month and 3 weeks that you have been in Brooklyn, you always come home late, because your working hours start from morning to noon, then continue with the evening until 9 pm.

Through the wet asphalt cobblestone roads due to the rain, you don't know .... since when you feel like someone is watching you.

Only the sound of rats and your footsteps can be heard on the quiet streets towards your shabby and cheap apartment.

'Tap'

Trying to avoid puddles of water that could make your shoes wet.

Just as you arrive in front of the door of your apartment building, you hear the sound of a trash can falling.

Either because you are paranoid or you are too shocked, you immediately look back only to see there is only a rat and a trash can that has fallen.

'Cit'

'cit'

Sighing in relief that it was just a sewer rat busy looking for food.

Opening the door of the apartment building and entering the building. Walking slowly while greeting the male receptionist who is busy playing with his cellphone with a friendly smile.

Entering the elevator slowly, and pressing the button for the 6th floor.

'Ting'

The elevator door opens, you walk slowly in the dim hallway of this cheap apartment building. Even though this building has 8 floors, you can't help but feel afraid to live in this building.

This building rents out apartments at a cheap price, because this building has entered the criteria for an unsuitable building. But what can you do if you only have a little money, no one will rent an apartment building for 45$ for a whole year.

Stopping in front of a wooden door with peeling paint, unlocking the door and entering your small apartment.

'Krieet'

Even the sound from the door was more terrifying than your financial condition.

After making sure the door was locked, you walked tiredly to the leather sofa that was even torn to shreds. That night you slept so soundly that you didn't even notice the bouquet of flowers in your bedroom.

That morning ... you couldn't help but worry about what you saw, a bouquet of primroses, fresh flowers tied with a white ribbon.

Looking around the apartment you couldn't help but worry who would even dare to enter someone else's house without the owner's permission?

Primrose or people call it primula flower, a flower with various colors.... has a fairly romantic philosophy, namely passion, love and loyalty.

Who in this world even dares to give it in someone's bedroom? Does the person who gave this intend to seduce you?.

You really want to throw away the flower, but your heart says otherwise, the flower is too beautiful to be thrown in the trash.

That afternoon you worked as usual, you rested and ate a chocolate bar as a filler for your stomach that was screaming for food.

Sitting relaxing under a willow tree, the graze library is on the corner of our Brooklyn, close to the forests. Looking at the river rippling slowly following the flow of the ships that passed by.

After resting, you continued working, tonight you came home above 9 o'clock! . You didn't know that the person who was supposed to be on the night shift today was playing truant and you had no choice but to replace him at work.

It was past 12 midnight, midnight .... a pretty good night for people who want to commit crimes.

That night, Aunt Irene, the old woman who slept in the library said to spend the night in the library, it's not good for a young woman like you to go out in the middle of the day.

But you are stubborn, you want to sleep soundly in your dusty room.

With strong determination you walk faster than usual, passing the willow trees, only accompanied by the sound of mice and also dim street lights.

You feel very watched, you feel like someone is watching you.

Then at the end of the road, you see so many people gathered in front of your apartment building, there you see a beam of fire that shoots wildly in your apartment building.

With quick steps you head towards the crowd. Ask one of the random people there

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you, why is this building on fire?"

"Miss, are you a resident of this building? If so, it's too bad, a few hours ago there were some people in black suits who forcibly bombed this building, who knows what their motives were, but the police and security forces are still investigating it"

You could only be pensive hearing that, walking unsteadily to the people who were evacuating, you looked around your apartment building which was crowded with people, many firefighters were busy putting out the fire.

You looked sadly at your shabby apartment building that had been completely devoured by fire.

Where will you sleep tonight. Planning to go back to the library only to stop frozen.

There you saw Alex, standing not far from you, looking at you with longing eyes.

You panicked with 1001 ways to avoid danger, you ran away from Alex, who of course he chased you.

Running as hard as you could down the muddy cobblestone streets of Brooklyn was not an easy thing.

You could hear Alex calling your name. You just keep running and running, you can hear clearly, Alex is chasing you with his men.

Are you going to die? Does Alex want to kill you because you know his little secret.

Your breath is very heavy, you can feel that your heart is beating as fast as you are pumping adrenaline to get away from Alex, only to feel your hand being pulled so hard by Alex, your husband!.

"Caught you, my love"

Alex wraps one arm around your waist, the other holds your chin.

"Are you satisfied hmm? Is my love satisfied playing running around?"

You don't know what to do, you can only be silent and frozen.

"Why my dear? Why did you leave me? Did I do something wrong?"

"Answer me love?!".

Alex with his hands that are holding your chin tighter, stares into your eyes sharply.

With a very deep longing and passion, Alex kissed your lips very aggressively, the kiss was full of longing, and thirsty for touch. His lips claimed your lips.

His tongue played with yours, releasing your wild kisses, Alex looked at you who was in his arms.

His leather-gloved hand touched your lips which were swollen from Alex's kiss.

You don't know why but slowly but surely you feel your body limp in Alex's arms.

Damn, you realized too late that Alex slipped sleeping pills into your previous kiss.

Your vision blurred, you could only see Alex smirking at you, and finally you fell unconscious in Alex's arms.

Alex, your husband, he has been watching you his little wife for 1 month, letting you live in this shabby apartment, he really wants to pick you up by force and shower you with luxury and not poverty, how can his love live in poverty, he is not willing.

Following his father's advice, Alex let you enjoy your simple life.

In a shabby and old apartment, working in a library that was even deserted, always eating instant food.

His heart ached so much, seeing his wife live so miserably, but he had to restrain himself, just think of this as a lesson for yourself that you can't live without him, his wife who is so weak and needs protection so much, his stray cat who really likes to find trouble.

His heart ached even more when you smiled kindly at the male receptionist whose face wasn't even that big, how dare you, his little wife, make him jealous, so he would burn down that shabby apartment, he had enough of restraining himself, he had enough of seeing you live in poverty.

Alex looked at you who was currently sleeping soundly in Alex's mansion in New York City.

You were sleeping very peacefully, wearing only his shirt, one of your hands was tied by gold-colored handcuffs combined with a small chain wrapped around the handcuffs.

Walking slowly but surely, Alex sat beside you who was sleeping, brushing your hair that covered your face from his view.

Gently stroking your face, kissing your forehead lovingly, then your cheek, then your nape, until biting your neck affectionately which currently left a love bite mark.

That night your eyes opened, Alex claimed you as his, claiming his very naughty wife, that night, only witnessed by the moonlight shining through the window, illuminating 2 people who were busy wrestling in bed in the pleasures of the world.

How many hours is it? You don't know what time it is, Alex your husband, busy making love to you, busy moaning erotically in your ear.

Busy making sure you are pregnant with his child. Alex, a man who always holds back, he doesn't hold back tonight.

With his possessions united with you, and you who can no longer think rationally, can only follow the rhythm of your husband's game.

That night Alex made love to you like an animal in mating season, very brutal and did not give you a break to breathe.

"Haah .... must make you pregnant yeah ?? My darling must be pregnant ... nghh that way .... you will not run away from me anymore"

Alex held your body that was already limp under his body, kissing your lips passionately Alex said.

"Rest my love, very naughty, my very naughty wife ahh you make me crazy about you my darling, don't expect you can get away from me"

"Even until death ...you are mine..love"

*Source image: pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 , OG story . Project Dark Romance Story 1.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

@snowflakes666 @athena-roy @ayoulookingfine @sirenetheblogger @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere #possesive #obsessed #nevaerah

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seeingivy · 9 months ago

Text

my kink is karma

satoru gojo x f!reader

**loosely based on my kink is karma by chappell roan

an: based on a request from gojo as taylor anon <3 this one is for u

“hi honey bee.”

you peer over the top of your monitor screen to find satoru gojo, the executive account manager whose murder you’ve been planning for the past few weeks, looming over your desk. his inhumanely long limbs are fixed behind his back, bright ocean blue eyes filled with glee. and you’ve been through this enough times to know exactly what’s going on.

he’s caught yet another mistake that you’ve made. and he’s here to sick it to you, his favorite worker bee that he likes to irritate.

satoru gojo is a nicely packaged sewer demon that arrived two months ago, replacing the little old lady who used to occupy the glass office at the center of the workflow. she was kind, a little bit confused here and there, but she got her job done without making a fuss and that was all that mattered to you. she made you blondies for your birthday.

you didn’t realize how nice you had it until she was replaced with him. because satoru gojo was irritating, prancing in the way he always did – insanely tall and taking up too much space in your peaceful office – with a boisterous laugh, a strange sense of humor, and a tendency to be irritatingly perfect.

a stitched and tailored suit, designer perfume, and a sparkling rolex watch on his wrist. a pretty girlfriend that he bragged about at mandatory lunches, a shiny black mercedes, and a penthouse apartment in the center of the city.

you hate him. you hate how you can feel him scorning at the worn down ballet flats that you wear to work, the vintage watch you snagged from the thrift store, and the narrowed look that he gives to your public transportation card as you tuck it back into your wallet when you walk into the office.

“are you doing a sales report?” he asks.

“i’m at my job. where i work in sales marketing. what do you think i’m working on?”

you watch his eye twitch. the small movements – eye twitches, nose wrinkles, and the turning of his lip – you had been watching them, memorizing what exactly it was that pushed his buttons since he was so keen on doing it first. though, he would never show it upfront, at least not as openly as you do anyways.

that was one of the nice things about satoru gojo. that he was intelligent and perceptive – enough for him to know that you were maybe the only person in this office who didn’t like him. that you could understand his niceness was masked in arrogance. that you had no intention of kissing his ass like almost everyone else in this office did.

you loathed his very existence, the stupid jokes he made, and would rather hear nails on a chalkboard than the stories that he recounts from his weekends at his parent’s suburban villa.

“i love a great sense of humor!” he responds, scooting his long legs over to the side of your desk and hunching over to get a view of your computer.

he says it with a bright and sparkling smile, but you get the message clear and straight – i’d watch the attitude if i were you.

the smell of his fancy cologne tickles your nose as he leans over, his face nearly cheek to cheek with yours as he places a little manila folder in front of you. you heave a sigh, opening it up to your sales reports from the last week, each one laminated and with a dark red mark in the center.

“been looking over your reports. you’re getting a little sloppy with your math.”

you scoff.

“is that right?” you ask.

“uh huh. just make sure you count your decimal points and your zeroes when you turn in this one. i know it can be a little hard sometimes, big numbers and all.”

you bite down on your cheek, feeling the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. did he always have to be so patronizing?

“now why would i do that? i’d put you out of a job if i did.”

satoru clicks his tongue in cheek – one of the clear cut signs that you’ve hit one of his exposed nerves. that he’s a glorified calculator sitting in a fancy glass office with an arbitrary executive title slapped next to his name.

satoru gojo hates that you always seem to make that point every time he corrects you. and you’ll take any chance to remind him. that he doesn’t do anything worthwhile. that he’s a pretty face and just that – nothing substantial underneath.

“luckily for me, you’ve proven that you’ll be incompetent until the end. as long as you’re here, it seems that i will be too. i’d get back to it if i were you, honey bee.” he responds, the tone in his voice scathing as he walks back to his office, a glimmering plastic smile pressed to his face.

you have mandatory team building lunches on fridays at twelve thirty. it’s one of the things that you appreciate – that you don’t have to wake up early to put together a lunch from the leftovers in your fridge.

you cycle through every person in the office, rotating on picking up lunch that accommodates the budget and everyone’s dietary requests, and break bread to get closer to one another. satoru, naturally, goes over budget every time it’s his turn, and insists that it’s no problem – though he always seems to slightly mess up your order, while everyone else’s comes out perfectly.

and on the days where he isn’t choosing the lunch, he’s so irritating – complaining of a sensitive stomach – and instead brings a nicely packaged lunch that his private chef makes for him every morning.. three courses, always packed with a dessert.

one time you asked him if the chef wrote him little supportive notes in his lunchbox. you would be lying if you said it didn’t fill you with pride, that the small comment you made was enough to fill him with irritation for the rest of the work day.

“what are your christmas plans, satoru?”

you look over at your fellow sales associate, yuuji, and share a smirk with him. the two of you lean back, nursing your little sandwiches from the deli two miles down in your hands as you start the mental counter in your head.

every day before lunch, you and yuuji make a shot counter of things that you expect gojo to say during team building. common phrases that fall out of his mouth like back at the villa, my custom tailor shop, and louis vuitton – the normal trust fund baby vocabulary, naturally – somehow always make their way into the conversation.

you drink shots accordingly at happy hour after work. whoever’s word has the higher count has to pay for the entire night.

your poison for today was private jet. yuuji’s was timeshare.

“anne marie and i are heading over to her family’s timeshare in bali. they have a property over there – full pool, private beach and all.”

yuuji snorts. you roll your eyes.

“a private beach?” nanami asks, eyes raised as he neatly picks the tomatoes out of his sandwich and hands them over to shoko at his side.

“a private beach, indeed. it’s right on the coast, equipped with boats for excursions and stuff like that. the timeshare comes set with all of those.” he states.

“excursions.” you repeat, giving yuuji a wide eyed look as he fights the urge to laugh.

satoru looks over at you, a clear distaste in his eyes, as he leans back in his chair, legs spread wide.

“what are you doing for your vacation, y/n?” satoru asks.

“i’m going home with yuuji for a few days.” you state.

“right. that sounds exciting!” he states.

you can hear the message laced in that one too – a clear and pointed diss that he’s going to be spending his time at a resort with his skinny legged model girlfriend and you’re going to be going home with the one gay guy that works at your office and get drunk in the bar in your hometown.

“which airline are you taking?” satoru asks.

you grin.

“delta.”

“never been. i use my private jet to get around.”

you give him an exaggerated gasp.

“a private jet? tell me all about it.”

you’ve goaded him right into your trap – as satoru then says the word private jet a total of seventeen times, defeating the measly eight times he said timeshare – and delight in the fact that you’ll at least get to have a nice night out.

on the first tuesday back from break, freshly minted into five days of the new year, your co-worker katie shakes your shoulder aggressively ten minutes into your shift. you note that four days into the week, satoru has yet to return to the office and you hope that it’s not just good luck – that maybe he fell off of his duffy boat in bali and lost all his memory, rendered incapable of ever returning to the office again.

you pray that your new boss isn’t as much of an asshole as him.

you look up to find katie’s eyes wide, an excited smile on her face, as she leans down into your space. katie is one of the few friends that you have in the office, the third person who finds satoru and his antics irritating.

“did you hear about gojo?” she asks.

“every thing i know about that man is against my will.” you deadpan.

she giggles, leaning down to whisper.

“oh my fucking god. come here. you’re going to love this.”

she stands up, scanning the room, as she gestures for you to stand up, the two of you making your way over to the break room. you can’t talk so freely about him when his little lackey’s are still lingering around, who will most definitely tell him that the two of you were gossipipng.

and god knows that would only make his head bigger – knowing that everyone talked about him even when he wasn’t there. katie strides into the room, taking residence over the coffee machine and shooting nanami a polite smile, as she starts absentmindedly brewing a cup of coffee.

“he’s losing it.”

“who?”

“satoru. he’s going fucking crazy apparently.”

you snort. as if. satoru’s definition of going crazy would be mixing and matching different designer brands – like wearing a gucci watch with a louis vuitton tie.

“turns out that his glamorous vacation to bali with that raggedy anne doll never happened. she had a whole meltdown and broke up with him after his credit card got declined at a restaurant they went to a few days before the trip.”

you nearly choke on your spit.

“what?”

“apparently it was just a fluke, his card got momentarily blocked since he bought some new car. but she literally freaked out on him and left him stranded.”

you snort.

“there’s no way.”

“she told him that it was unacceptable. that she had enough.”

“well, i’ll say. she milked an entire designer wardrobe out of him.” you whisper, earning you a giggle from katie.

“i know! anyways, sharon from hr told me that he’s taken the past four days off because he doesn’t have transportation – he fucking crashed the mercedes when he was driving home from the breakup.”

“you’re fucking kidding. the g-wagon?”

“i swear to god.”

it feels a little mean, but you can’t help but delight in all of it.

that despite it all, karma’s real. and it’s finally satoru fucking gojo’s turn. six months of patronizing comments and arrogance has finally caught up with him. his pretty girlfriend is just that – a pretty girl who wanted to do nothing with him. the car he brags about has been demolished and at the very least his larger than life ego has taken some type of hti.

“oh, look, look.”

katie shakes your arm, the two of you peering through the glass window to see satoru climb out of the bus – the same bus that you take to work everyday to save money – with what you can tell from here is an unironed suit and messy hair. his tie isn’t even done properly.

and when he walks in, all you smell is the fancy cologne, with the faintest hints of tequila lingering behind. a smell that you only catch, because it’s one that you’ve drowned out on a bad day.

you and yuuji pick horrendous words for lunch – yours being luxury brand and yuuji’s being private chef – and much to your dismay, he says neither. he actually doesn’t say anything. just sulks in the corner and disappears as soon as he finishes the tacos.

you leave a mistake in your sales report. he doesn’t even catch it.

“can you close out my tab, toji?”

toji, the bartender who’s well aware of your antics – and perhaps even more upset than you are that your hoity toity boss didn’t play along well with your game today – gives him a nod, wiping his hands with the towel as he looks over at you.

“you too, doll?”

“no, i’ll have another before i head out.” you state.

he gives you a nod, shuffling off to the side to get yuuji’s bill, as you slump down on the bar, yuuji mimicking your motions as you both lean your heads against one anothers. and he leaves just as fast, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head as you swirl the little ice cubes in your drink as you watch the bubbles fizz out.

“rough day, y/n?”

you shrug.

“same old – can’t really complain. you?”

toji smiles.

“you see that guy over there, at the end of the bar? this is the third day that he’s drank up my entire supply of tequila.”

you follow the line of his vision to see satoru – the satoru gojo slumming it in this rather disgusting bar, at least for his standards – his tie messy and the buttons of his shirt loosely undone sitting at the bar.

“him?”

“uh huh. broke up with like the only girl he’s ever dated, apparently. whoever she is, thank her fucking ass. he tips well over.” toji murmurs, giving you a smile as he rearranges the glasses.

you give toji a weary smile, pressing the cash down on the bar, as you make your way over – noting that tequila smell is not masked at all this time – as you slide into the seat next to him, tapping on your shoulder. and he looks over, the rims of his eyes red and eyes squinting as he leans forward.

“honey bee?” he slurs.

the smell is overwhelming.

“the one and only.” you respond.

you reach forward, sliding the little shot glass out of his hand and placing it behind the bar. you turn back to find that his hair is messy, whatever mousse that he’s used to style it has clearly run fraught, and his cheeks flushed pink.

“that’s enough for one night, gojo. let’s get you home, yeah?”

“huh?”

“home. the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or a household?”

he glares.

“i know what a home is.” he deadpans.

“perfect! let’s get you to yours.” you respond.

satoru turns over to you, blue eyes weary, before he shrugs and slumps down onto the bar. you roll your eyes, scooting your chair closer as you pull up your phone.

“i’ll do you a liberty. i know you’re probably morally opposed to taxis, so i’ll call you an uber. what’s your address?”

satoru reaches up, his fingertips brushing your wrist, as he snatches your phone and places it flat on the bar.

“no thank you.”

“toji will kick you out, you know. and he doesn’t even know you like that, he’ll probably be really mean since he has a wife to get back home to and all.”

satoru snorts.

“then i’ll just go to another bar. i’m not going home.”

you groan, noting that of course he was going to be stubborn about this too, and that whatever it was in your chest – pity, you suppose – was making you so insistent on making sure he didn’t die from alcohol poisoning tonight.

“what’s so bad about your pretty penthouse?” you ask.

he huffs a sigh.

“there’s pictures of anne marie everywhere. and i fucking hate that bitch.”

you snort, hearing such choice words about the barbie doll that you never had the pleasure of meeting, as you hop off the stool. you figured he was going to be more of the emotional drunk – crying and whining – rather than cursing her very existence.

“okay, c’mon. i know somewhere you can go.”

you feel bad for him as the night goes on. because he’s so drunk that he’s sobbing the entire drive back to your apartment, a horrendous mix of drunk ramblings about how honda civics are actually nicer than he expected and how he didn’t even know that this part of the city existed. your previous thoughts about emotional drunks were completely revoked.

he leans his entire weight on you as you drag him into the elevator, plopping him down on the couch, as you task yourself with making him a green smoothie before letting him pass out into the abyss. it’ll help with the raging hangover you’re positive that he’s going to have tomorrow – and you hope that it means he’ll spare you some kindness the following morning, for saving him from his imminent death and all.

you change into your comfy pajamas as the smoothie blends – a loose old dartmouth t-shirt and shorts – and pour it into a glass. you take a deep breath, bracing yourself, as you make your way back to the couch where satoru’s peeled his sport jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt nearly halfway down. you make it a point to not ogle his perfectly chiseled body.

“alright, satoru. this will help with your hangover tomorrow, just drink it really fast because it tastes horrible.” you state.

satoru looks over at you, completely unfazed by the green drink you hand him, and decides that he’s very shamelessly going to check you out. you can see it in his eyes – the way they follow your bare legs and your mismatched socks, before he looks back up at you and frowns.

“am i that fucking pathetic that you’re helping me?” he asks.

you grin.

“yes.” you respond.

satoru appreciates the honesty, gulping down the thick and tart smoothie that you made him, and slams the glass down on the coffee table after the fact. he wipes the residue on the back of his hand and shrinks into the couch – and you can’t help but shiver at how normal he looks.

it’s the first time that you’ve understood it, why everyone thinks he’s so attractive. he has soft and full cheeks, striking blue eyes that go perfectly with his snow white hair. a few freckles dot his nose.

“well, let’s hear it. make all the fun you fucking want.” satoru murmurs.

you roll your eyes.

“do you think i’m a bitch? i don’t kick people when they’re down. something you’re wholly unfamiliar with, i’m well aware.”

“you have no problem doing it in the office.” he states.

you scoff.

“you always start it. you can’t really get mad when i start dishing it back. and i’m a little bit better than you. i won’t make comments about you now that pretty malibu barbie’s broken your heart now because i have a shred of decency.”

satoru scoffs.

“you’ll just do it tomorrow, when i’m keen enough to fight back .” he states.

you sigh, leaning back on the couch, as you look up at the wallpaper pressed to the ceiling. it’s slightly peeling and you make a mental note to replace it when you get the time – which knowing you, you probably never will.

he was impossible.

when you look over at him, his eyes fixed to the peeling wallpaper too, but with glimmering tears sprinkling out of his eyes, though they’re slower and quieter than the sobs that he was heaving in the car. you wonder how much he really had to drink.

“you need to replace your wallpaper. it’s coming off.” satoru seethes.

“okay.” you respond.

you look back at the ceiling. you could give him some advice too.

“you should stop dating gold diggers.” you state.

he rolls his eyes.

“how was i supposed to know she was a gold digger?” he asks.

you laugh.

“it’s not normal to buy your girlfriend’s entire wardrobe. and her car. and her..”

“okay, okay, okay. it was a gift!” he defends.

“you know, normal people get a giftcard and call it a day. or a candle from target.” you respond.

there’s a whisper of a smile on satoru’s face as he sighs, before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“okay, well. i was trying to be sweet. her love language was giving gifts.”

you snort.

“shocker.” you deadpan.

he reaches for the closest cushion, before smacking it straight across your chest. you’re quick to snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest, as the two of you stick back to the silence.

“so what do i do?” he asks.

“what do you mean?”

“i dunno. never done a break up before. she was like my first girlfriend.”

you would understand it. you would, you suppose, if that was something you could relate to. being so in love that you can’t be with anyone else. but then again, that lingering question would always come back to you – how could you know that this person was the one if you hadn’t tried anything else?

in your very limited experience in your very short life, one thing always rang true – that the more time you took to learn, to experience, the better things seemed to get. you had a bunch of shit friends in high school and now you’re friends with yuuji. you had four different majors before you picked marketing because it let you be creative. you’ve dated four different guys but you’re still looking for the one.

that’s why you didn’t understand it – how people could be so one and done, on something so serious. granted, that’s probably how they end up with gold diggers.

“do you have anything of hers?” you ask.

satoru gives you a strange look, before digging his hand in his pocket, and fishing out his wallet. he opens up the little zipper, yanking a little silver necklace out of the leather, and placing it into the palm of your hand.

you feel your eyes widen a little bit, sparkling diamonds set in a little circular mother of pearl design, as you run your fingers over it. you shake yourself out of it, looking over at him resting his forearms against his knees, expectantly waiting for an answer.

“real cute. go throw it out of my window.” you state, handing it back to him.

“i beg your pardon?”

“so a window is an opening in the wall or roof that…” you start.

he lightly shoves you, before clutching the necklace in his fist.

“i can’t throw it out. it’s fucking expensive.”

you roll your eyes.

“that means nothing to you. you’re not throwing it away because you still like raggedy anne.”

“raggedy anne?” he asks.

“yuuji, katie, and i call her that. red hair kind of set that one up for us but…”

his eyes widen, as he leans forward.

“do you guys not like her?” he asks.

you shrug, as you stand up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you pull him closer to the window. the question catches you off guard – that he would care what the three of you would think.

you peek your head out the window – a few cars still milling on the street, the lights lazily changing, as he joins you and sticks his head out the window.

“i can’t, honey bee.” he states.

“yes, you can. it’s just a necklace.”

“but what if she wants it back?” he asks.

you fight the urge to slap him, as you stick your head back into the warmth of the apartment. he follows suit.

“you would go back to her?” you ask.

“i dunno. i –”

“she would probably only want to get back together so she can get this fucking necklace back. because she’s a gold digger! screw her, surely you could do better than that!”

satoru frowns, as he peaks out of the window again. and he makes the motion like he’s going to throw it before he looks back at you, nervously scratching at the back of his neck.

“it’s limited edition. maybe i should sell it and –”

“no. you’re going to throw it out of the window right now, on the count of three.”

“i really don’t want to. we should do something easier first.” he whines.

“one.” you state.

he panics. surely he couldn’t be serious.

“this can’t be how normal people cope. i could hit someone and give them a black eye..”

“two.” you scold.

“maybe i don’t want to be a normal person. i think that this is all –”

“three.”

you snatch the necklace out of his open palm and throw it straight out of the window. it makes a little clinking sound when it finally hits the bottom, the two of you poking your heads out of the window to now see it tangled in the sewage gutter that’s been dirtied by the recent rain.

“you threw her necklace.” satoru states, in exasperation.

“when normal people can’t do it on their own, a trusted friend does it to keep them in line.” you state, pushing back into the apartment and wiping your hands.

satoru follows behind you, his steps featherlike, as you reach for his phone and start scrolling through the contacts. he’s leaning his head over your shoulder, eyes wide as you pull up anne marie’s contact and hold it out to him.

“you’re going to make me block her too?” he asks.

“no. you should call her once and say some mean stuff and then block her.”

satoru’s eyes widen.

“mean stuff?”

“call her. tell her she’s a gold digger. that you think her voice is annoying or something.” you add.

satoru crosses his hands over his chest.

“that’s not very mature.”

“okay, but you’re back in dog years since you’ve been dating this girl forever. plus, i’d say it’s immature to be in a god knows how long relationship with someone just for their money. does she have any consideration for you?”

satoru pauses, like he’s mulling the thought over.

“if you don’t do it, you’re going to become even more weird and repressed than you are now.” you state

“i’m not repressed!” he whines.

“be immature! say a bunch of bullshit and then hang up! you’ll feel great – you…you’re supposed to do these types of things at least once. this is like a rite of passage.”

satoru gives you a weary look as you lean forward, pressing the dial button. his eyes go wide as you start whispering, gesturing for him to do it.

“hello? satoru?” anne marie says, voice confused.

there’s a considerable amount of sound behind the speaker, loud booming music making it very clear that raggedy anne is at the club while satoru’s moping it out in your apartment.

“do it.” you whisper.

“hi annie.” satoru murmurs.

you roll your eyes at the nickname.

“did you want something satoru?” she asks.

“yeah. yeah, i just wanted to say…” satoru starts.

“hold on one second.” she says.

there’s a murmuring over the speaker, which she’s clearly covered, as you start whispering. tell her she’s annoying! she won’t even give you the time of day on a phone call!!

“sorry, i’m back. i’m on a date right now so i was just trying to slip away.”

satoru looks up at you.

“you’re a bitch.” he murmurs.

you fight the urge to laugh.

“what did you say?” anne marie responds.

“you’re a bitch.” he says louder.

“good! say it again!” you whisper.

satoru has the whisper of a smile on his face, the silent support goading him on, as he keeps talking.

“you…you’re annoying. you have a really high pitched voice and every time you wake up in the morning, it gives me an ear splitting headache. and you…you look horrible in blue.”

the choice of words is a little middle school, but you’ll give it to him. there was a first time for everything.

“say something else.” you whisper.

“is that a girl?” anne marie asks.

you both widen your eyes, before satoru quickly hangs up and start laughing. you note that for your standards that was horrendously tame, but the glint in his eyes seems to signify that it’s at least done something for him, because it’s the first time he properly smiles after entering your apartment.

“how was that?”

“fucking great! she sounded like an idiot!” he responds.

“she sure did.”

“now she’s probably wondering which girl i’m with and working herself over it.” he responds.

you shake your head, pulling out the sheets to make the fold out bed for him properly, before you make your way back over to your own room. screaming middle school insults seems to sober him up enough, because he joins you in folding the sheets, a smile on his face.

“have you done that before?” he asks.

“done what?” you ask.

“throw stuff out like that? call an ex-boyfriend?”

you smile.

“mhm. my first boyfriend irritated me so bad that i took everything he ever gave me – a dried up bouquet of flowers, a necklace, birthday cards and all that type of stuff – and threw it in a trash can outside of the bank i go to. and the calling, i did that once when my ex-boyfriend decided to go to san diego for a trip instead of meeting up with me. he made it pretty clear for a week that we were going to break up on that day and i had hyped myself up for it, just for him to not show up. so i got pissed and called him then and there.” you state.

satoru’s floored.

“really? that’s such a dick move.”

“i mean, s’pretty standard.”

you’ve been on the carousel of assholes your entire life. but satoru shakes his head.

“i can’t believe someone would even do that. that’s unusually cruel.”

you forgot about that part. that with having experienced next to nothing, there’s a sense of naivety that comes with it too.

or hope. whichever word speaks to you more – and at the current moment, it’s the latter, only because he seems so genuinely downtrodden by it – so genuinely believing that people are meant to be good and kind that he can’t fathom someone being mean and selfish just for the sake of it.

you feel bad for him.

“that it is. almost as cruel as dating someone just for their money.” you respond.

satoru sighs.

“yeah.”

“that’s kind of the cool part now.” you respond.

“what is?”

you sit down flat on the bed, the sheets nicely tucked in and folded, as you pat the little spot next to you on the bed. he obliges, his legs stretching out a considerable distance past yours, as you cross your arms over your chest.

“this is going to sound really weird, but some day you’re going to agree with me.” you state.

“okay.”

“you’re going to feel a lot of things in the next few months. and then after the fact, when you’re really truly over it, you’re going to realize how real all of that was.”

“meaning?”

you shrug.

“you’re going to mope and listen to sad songs for a while. and those songs are going to hit like they’ve never hit before, you’re going to realize people have been writing about this exact feeling that you’re experiencing for years. you’ve just gone through a shared experience that almost everyone has, no matter who they are, of getting your heart shattered.”

satoru’s never thought of it that way. granted, he’s only been thinking about it for three days, but still.

“then you’re going to be pissed. you’re going to do a bunch of stupid stuff and you might even regret it a little bit, but that’s part of learning more about yourself. maybe you really do like to have the last word. maybe you can’t fathom it at all, seeing that person ever again. either way, you’re going to figure out something about yourself and it’s going to make it all the more worth it. that’s part of this entire thing – experiencing something new, doing things three, four, five times and fucking up each time, just to…get something out of it. figure out whatever you’ve got going on in this thing.” you respond, flicking at his forehead.

satoru rubs the spot, glaring at you, as you shoot him a smile.

“there’s no point in doing anything once. you’re going to live a really long life, were you really only going to date and love one girl the entire time? i know you must have more to give than that.” you state.

“do you not believe in marriage?” he asks.

you frown.

“who said i don’t believe in marriage?”

“i mean, you seem like so…hippie dippie. i get what you’re saying and…and i’m even inclined to believe you’re right…but where does that stop? you can’t go on experiencing things and people and loving forever?”

you smile.

“why do you think so little of marriage? do you really think all of that stops once you enter a relationship with someone?”

satoru freezes.

“you keep doing that stuff, but with the person you know is meant for you. clearly your relationship with raggedy anne must have been really, very boring, because getting to do new things together is the fun part. i’d argue that it’s even the point of even being together – growing into something new.”

satoru thinks you're wise. he thinks that he’s still leftover drunk and whatever it is you’re saying is coming out like poetry to him, that it’s singing to the tune that’s been going on in the background of his head for the past year, because really – his relationship was very boring.

it had gotten monotonous. maybe he stayed because he didn’t know anything different. maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with stalking your every move – making sly comments, finding mistakes in your reports - just because you were always so keen to give him a different answer, one he couldn’t predict, the only constant thing about you being that you were always different.

“your brain looks like it’s working overtime. you should go to bed.” you state.

“okay, yeah.”

satoru is still drunk. somewhat drunk. maybe a little.

it’s why he leans forward, to press a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. he notes that your eyes go wide, as you immediately lift your hand to press your fingers to the skin, your cheeks flushing pink.

“i was hoping you were going to give me like a thousand dollars or something as a gift for being nice to you.”

satoru grins. because again, it wasn’t the answer he was expecting at all.

“i could do that too.” he states.

you roll your eyes, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek.

“shut up.”

“you’re pretty.”

you’re taken aback by the comment, leaning back to cross your hands over your chest, as you eye him again. messy hair, swollen eyes, and pink lips from the drinks.

“you’re not that bad either. you look way better like this.”

“like this?”

“you know…no fancy mousse. creepy perfectly tailored suit. having a proper meltdown and all. not to be rude, but your distress might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

satoru scoffs.

“you’re just jealous that i look so great all the time.”

you shake your head.

“not at all. i’m not into that at all – the whole perfect, rich boy thing.”

satoru leans forward, eyes wide.

“what are you into?” he asks.

you smile.

“did you really crash your car?” you ask.

he groans.

“you know about that?”

you laugh.

“i’m into that. you being a real person. i think you’re very funny when you’re drunk and you have the insults of a middle schooler. your hair looks very good when it’s all messed up like this and your very genuine enthusiasm and curiosity is very refreshing.”

“yeah?” satoru whispers, a glint in his eyes.

“mhm. don’t lose sleep over it, okay?” you respond, pinching his cheek as you shuffle your way over to your room.

satoru watches as you retreat, your mismatched socks riding up to your ankles, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re right. if he had missed out.

he hadn’t done anything. anything at all. you were three feet away – with an entire life he knew nothing about. the little scars on your arms were all a story, maybe from pulling something out of the stove too fast or falling on the pavement, and he can’t help but wonder what it all was.

if he could still gain it all, after years of falling behind.

satoru was always an overachiever. he was going to do this, he was going to do this now.

satoru stands up, legs carrying him to the door of your bedroom, as he firmly knocks on the wood. he hears something that sounds like a thud, before you swing the door open, your eyes adjusting to the brightness outside to find him standing there.

“it’s been one minute.” you deadpan.

“can i sleep with you?”

“i beg your pardon?”

satoru sighs.

“i’ve never slept in the same bed as someone.”

“huh? you and raggedy anne never…”

he shakes his head.

“i mean, like once, but it was by accident. my penthouse has two beds and i don’t know what it feels like to…sleep next to someone.”

you pause. and let your curiosity get the better of you.

“are you a virgin?”

“i am not a virgin.”

you laugh at the irritation in his voice, before holding the door open wider and gesturing for him to walk into the room.

“my bed isn’t that big.” you state.

“that’s okay. just…please? let me?”

you assume that saying no would be equivalent to kicking a dog while it’s down. it’s what you reason to yourself as you let him in, watching as he giggles at your stuffed animals and your glasses in the nightstand before he wraps his arms around you, his embrace warm around you.

you swear he kisses your hairline.

“did you just kiss me again?”

“hey. i’m experiencing new things. i’ve got tons of places i have to kiss you on my list.”

you snort.

“you’re bold.” you state.

“and you’re really very sweet. i really like you, you know that?”

you roll your eyes, before leaning back into his touch. it’s so innocent, so unlike any other guy you’ve talked too – so excited about kissing you on the top of your head.

maybe it’s a little bit less pity than you anticipated.

“do you ever think i could do that?” he asks.

“do what?”

“what you’re talking about? doing things four, five, six times…growing with someone and all that?” he asks.

you sigh, before placing one of your hands over his.

“yes, satoru. of course you can.”

the following monday, you’re greeted by a little box on your desk. you open it up to a giftcard and four target candles, accompanied with a little note and his horrible chicken scratch handwriting.

honey bee, heard normal people give gift cards and candles as gifts. but i’m indecisive so there’s four candles. also, they’re custom made and really expensive so don’t throw them out to sass me or make a point or something :O satoru

and you see him an hour later, a cup of the cheap office coffee in his hand, as he walks around talking to everyone in the office. his tie is a little bit loose and his hair is unstyled – and you think that it’s interesting, that he had taken what you had said to heart. and your previous thought stands.

that he really does look better this way.

he makes his way over after twenty minutes, leaning down and basically pressing his cheek to yours as he looks at your monitor.

“did you check your math?” he asks.

“do you want me to shove a pencil down your throat?” you ask.

satoru laughs and you can’t help but smile.

“did you like my gift?”

“yes. but i have a few notes.”

satoru stands up properly, leaning against your desk with his hands crossed over his chest, as he gestures for you to talk.

“do tell.”

“when i say candle, i really do mean one candle. and you know, i meant like an eight dollar candle. like the shit ones that give you allergies.”

“candles can give you allergies?”

“i get watery eyes when they aren’t soy or natural.” you state.

“noted. what else?”

“when i say gift card, i mean twenty bucks. not two thousand dollars.”

satoru whines.

“so many rules. you’re so high maintenance, honey bee.” he whines, cupping your chin in his hand and squeezing once, before shuffling back to his office.

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