Chapter Text
Lame, prudish, boring and geeky are words you’ve come to accept over the course of most of your life. High school was a literal hell on earth for you. Unlike for you, it was heaven for your childhood friend Gojo Satoru. Satoru had and still has it all. Good looks, wealth, an overwhelming amount of friends and the gift of being an ace at any and everything. Countless times back then you found yourself wondering, overflowing with jealousy how he did it all.
How was it possible to be as blessed as him and not have an error or flaw at all? A bigger and better question you’d find yourself also wondering was why he stuck around someone like you? Hell, you hardly even liked him back then at times. Drowning in your childhood friend's shadow isn’t exactly the most pleasant feeling in the world.
Three times during your senior year of high school you tried cutting Satoru off. Each time he came flying back like a moth to a flame. The most prominent time being during prom night. Tears stained your cheeks, ruining your horribly attempted makeup and your hair was a mess from fighting against stormy rain winds when you ran all the way home from the dance. All because your supposed date stood you up that night.
Hidden in a corner by the off green bleachers, you sat awaiting your date’s arrival. As you waited you watched Satoru from afar on the dance floor dancing with his date. The girl he took was pretty and popular just like him. A true perfect match for Mr. Popular. But, what set you off that night was when they all found you sitting alone sulking. As usual Satoru was the one who came seeking you out. Cupped hands over his eyes, he scanned the dimly lit gymnasium until he spotted you. And of course like brainless zombies his friends followed after him.
They all surrounded you at the table and Satoru just had to plop in the seat next to you. Then he uttered your date’s name, asking his whereabouts. His words struck a nerve. Tears burned your eyes and fogged your vision and before they fell down your face, you jetted out of the gymnasium. At home your parents were missing in action, away at a relatives house for a party event. So, you were alone at home, sobbing on the living room couch. Twenty minutes you sat there balling out your eyes until a killer headache rocked your head.
Suddenly the door bell rang. The sound echoed all through the house. You assumed it must’ve been your mom and dad, but when you opened the door it was him. Feline shaped eyes bluer than the sea stared back at you. His snow white hair blew in the rowdy breeze. You tried slamming the door, but he easily caught it and let himself in. He coddled you with gentle words meant to ease and soothe you, but it was unwanted. He was met back with screams and cries of frustration as you commanded him to leave. Yet Satoru didn’t. He stayed.
That was the night you came to realize Gojo Satoru, your childhood friend, would never ever go away.
Fast forward to present time. You're both enrolled in University. Three years in deep. Of course he’s at the same one as you too.
It’s the season of autumn and October. You're deep into the fall semester. Friday arrives and plans for fun are in motion across campus amongst the student body. Not for you though. You sit crisscrossed in the bedroom of your apartment ten minutes away from campus. A chunky math book lies on your desk paired with a lap top, a cup of hot chocolate littered with tiny marshmallows and notebook scribbled with math notes.
Your phone lights up with a chime. Satoru’s contact name appears on the screen. It takes a minute before you check your phone, choosing to solve the math problem above anything else first. Once you’re finished you pick up the phone and unlock it to see his text.
Blue Eyed Freak: party at Shoko’s, be to pick you up in 30 :P
You: can’t come. Busy with hw.
Blue Eyed Freak: lol sure. See you in a min
You huff out a sigh, rolling your eyes at the thought of a disturbance. You tell yourself there’s not a chance you're going. One, you’re sure it’s gonna be a costume party since Halloween is the hot topic and two, you don’t do parties. Period.
Thirty minutes zoom by and as he said, he comes. The doorbell buzzes repeatedly like a broken record until you finally let Satoru inside. He slides in past you, a playful smirk dancing on his face. His attractive face that never seems to break out, blemish or display a single flaw.
“You ready?” He purrs, voice low and husky.
Your lips purse. “What does it look like?”
He walks further inside and you trail after him. He hoists himself atop the kitchen counter, raiding the cabinets for a quick snack. “I’ll give you ten minutes to get dressed. I don’t mind waiting. More time alone with you is never a bad time anyway.”
You stand in his view and whack away his hands from the cabinets. “No stealing my chips!” Then you sigh, pinching your nose bridge. “Satoru, look, I’m not joking, but uh, I’m not going out tonight. No means no.”
Satoru grasps your upper arm lightly. Then he pulls you in close. You’re between his spread legs. Too close for your own liking.
“What are you…doing?”
He cocks his head to the side. A lazy toothy grin pulling his lips back as he gazes down at you. “awe, come on. Don’t be a party pooper, plus,” he trails off and leans in close to your face. So close you can smell the faint scent of his cologne. “I miss you. You’re always so busy with classes, homework, blah, blah, blah. I never see you anymore these days.”
His minty breath fans your ear. Heat rises to your face and suddenly you forget how to breathe as your heart pounds like a drum in your ears. Even words jam in your throat. “W-What? Satoru, I see you all the time during lunch breaks,” you splutter like word vomit.
He throws his head back. A raspy groan escapes his lips. “Sixty minutes isn’t enough,” he whines.
Your face flushes hotter. “W-Well, too bad,” you counter quickly.
When Satoru looks up at you with puppy eyes, your heart nearly melts. You yank away, creating an open gap between your bodies.
“Pretty please? Come with me to Shoko’s party?” Something about his voice is off. It sounds mocking yet sincere.
You can never tell with him. Afterall, to this day you still don’t understand why someone such as himself hangs around you so much. Or why he constantly bothers you. You hate to admit it, but you still don’t trust him. It doesn’t matter how much guilt randomly stops you when you think about your hidden feelings, you can’t help it.
Your eyes drift to the side. “Fine,” you grit with an emphasis on the N.
His face brightens in delight. “Yay!” He celebrates pumping a fist in the air.
Your eye twitches in irritation. “Give me ten minutes, jerk,” you mumble the last part, thinking he doesn’t hear.
Except he does. “I love you too,” he chirps.
Pure embarrassment burns on your face. You attempt to yell at him just to further embarrass yourself by tripping over your words. Hearing him laugh harder makes you scramble to your room. The door slams behind you. Pants spill from your mouth as you tremble in anger.
God, you sometimes hate Gojo Satoru.
Ten minutes top like you told him, you make an appearance from your room. The kitchen is void of him. Instead you find him on the living room couch. Boredly he scrolls on his phone until he feels your presence in front of him. He stops scrolling and looks up. A simple pair of blue jeans hang loosely on your legs and a faint green hoodie from several washes swallow your torso. You push up your black thick frame glasses sliding down your nose. “I’m ready.”
“Finally, let’s jet.” He springs off the couch.
The car ride to Shoko’s shared house isn’t long and is filled with Satoru’s, in your humble opinion, questionable taste in music. Music blares from the car speakers from the moment he drives out the parking lot.
At Shoko’s place when you guys arrive it’s already a sea of people crowding everywhere. Like in his car music bumps, shaking the floors. Girls, barely wearing any clothes, dance either with their girl friends or random guys they find hot. Dudes pile in corners, their eyes lurking for something pretty to take home or make out with in the upstairs bathroom or guest room. Clouds of weed smoke fog the air and strong smells of liquor reek everywhere you walk.
It’s a total nightmare for someone like you. At home doing homework was the agenda for tonight, and now you’re stuck here. The only way you’re getting back home is when Satoru takes you back.
As most party hosts do, Shoko hides away in a less crowded area of the house—the kitchen. By default Satoru flocks there and so do you like a lost puppy.
“Sup, Satoru,” Shoko coolly says. She leans back on the refrigerator, a blunt between her fingers.
“What’s up, Shoko,” he replies back just as chill.
In a chair at the table, sits Suguru, another life long friend of Satoru. His moon crescent eyes land on you. “Oh? You brought along Miss little goody two shoes, eh, Satoru?”
You don’t know why, but you don’t like his tone. It comes off as condescending, but then again, you never enjoyed Geto Suguru even back in high school. He always gossiped behind your back to Satoru to stop bringing you around to hangouts. In his words he claimed you ruined the mood whenever you were dragged along. You suppose you probably did. Sulking in the corner of every hang out or turning into an awkward hot mess whenever someone tried talking to you probably was a vibe killer.
Oh well.
Satoru shrugs at him, lifting his eyebrows. He doesn’t care about what Suguru or anyone else thinks about him bringing you. He then peeks over his shoulder at you and winks. A little gesture of reassurance.
“Long time no see.” Shoko waves in your direction, taking a hit of her blunt. “Been awhile. So, how’ve you been?”
Suguru scoffs. “Probably cooped in her room with her nose shoved in books just like in high school.” His comment, though not wrong, strikes your nerves.
“Fuck off, Suguru,” Satoru says. He’s smiling, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
Shoko joins in. “Yeah, leave the poor girl alone, asshole. So what if she does like reading books, I do too.”
Suguru throws his hands up in the air at the sides of his head. A slick smile curling his lips and fake voice hides how he truly feels for poking fun at you—embarrassment. Serves him right if anyone asks you.
Satoru is quick to change the subject, asking the whereabouts for any form of liquor. He wants to get wasted tonight. Shoko guides him through a hall to another cooler full of untouched beers and Suguru follows them too. Which leaves you alone in the kitchen. They don’t return for some time. In the time of their lengthy absence a tall blonde stumbles into the kitchen.
His face is flushed hot pink. He holds onto the wall for dear life as his entire world spins on loop. “F-Fuck, I think I’m gonna be sick,” he groans under his breath.
Then he collapses on the floor near you and it startles you. You don’t understand why, but you rush to his side. Worry coats your voice as you ask if he’s alright, on your knees.
“N-No. I’m gonna puke…God help me.”
Another guy comes into the kitchen. His bowl cut hair is an awful mess, and a wet spot stains his shirt. He slurs, “Nanami...” He hiccups, “that’s where you were! Come on, buddy, let's go back to dancing and drinking more shots!”
Seeing people like these two just further encourages you that parties aren’t worth the rave. In your eyes these two look like a hot mess. You figure once they wake up tomorrow a mean headache and unwanted flashbacks will haunt them for days, especially if they did something embarrassing.
“I’m not going anywhere!” Nanami shakes his head and regrets doing so. It’s making his head spin worse.
Right when the bowl cut haired guy opens his mouth to speak, a tall girl, hair similarly white like Satoru’s but silvery pale blue strides into the kitchen. She yanks bowl cut guy and Nanami off the tile floor. “Pathetic, you both are. Couldn’t even handle a little vodka.”
She doesn’t seem to be drunk herself. Tipsy maybe, but not off her ass wasted.
Nanami gags. He slaps his on his mouth, holding them there firmly, face contorting in misery.
You gasp, pointing at him. “Hey I think he’s gonna throw up!”
“What?” The girl’s eyes widen with fear and pure disgust.
You run to his side to give her an extra hand. “I can help you with him…” your voice trails off, “but we gotta move quick or he’s gonna have it everywhere.”
She simply nods and you guys hurry upstairs to the bathroom. It’s a struggle getting two drunken grown adult men up the stairs but you two make it work. Once you all get to the bathroom, the silvery pale blue head girl stays outside in the hall while you help Nanami. Not like you could get her to come inside anyways, despite him being her friend.
He hurls his guts out in the toilet bowl as you gently pat his back. You keep him held in place so he doesn’t end up head first in toilet water mixed with vomit.
“That’s it, you’re doing fine,” you whisper softly.
He gags and hags, his back heaving and hands shaking uncontrollably gripping the toilet’s edges.
Any other person would probably gag at this unsightly scene. Not you though. This isn’t your first rodeo doing this. So many times during your freshmen year in college, you’d find yourself helping out a wasted Satoru. Oh, how you hated it. It would happen late at night when you least expect it. Heavy eyelids, blurred vision, you’d open your dorm door to a disheveled Satoru.
He’d collapse on you and his heavy body weight like dead weight pulled you down. You’d both sink to the floor like a ship and after managing to pry off his body, you’d drag him inside.
Always after a ten to twenty minute mark the vomit would come. And it was horrible. But you learned to get used to it because it became a daily occurrence on weekends, then even on weekdays.
Having thrown up everything he’s eaten today, Nanami sits across from you. He’s in a daze until there’s a knock at the bathroom door. It cracks open, revealing the girl. She pinches her nose and tosses a water bottle inside before immediately closing the door.
More time passes by and you've helped him sober up. He’s grateful and thanks you nonstop.
“No worries. I just, that wasn’t my first time helping a person throwing up. Like I’ve done it before too many times to count.” You let out a small laugh.
“Seriously?” He’s appalled.
“Yeah. Like of course I hated it but I had to do it because who else would, plus it always was at my place.” A giggle escapes you.
He lets out a breathy chuckle. “Well you’re a lifesaver. It would’ve been pretty bad if I made a mess everywhere in Shoko’s place.”
“Tell me about it.”
***
Little do you know, downstairs Satoru searches high and low for you. When he, Shoko and Suguru came back to an empty kitchen, something snapped in him. His first thought was you maybe went out into the party to mingle on your own. As time went on, looking for you, that idea became less and less believable. It was already unbelievable from the jump.
With more thoughts racing in his mind, he began to blame Suguru. A heated argument erupted among the two. Daggers and low blows were thrown back and forth until Shoko broke it up.
After checking every possible place, asking people and blowing your phone up, Satoru started to act strange. His hands fidgeted. His eyes wouldn’t stay still. Worst of all he became increasingly oddly agitated with anyone in his path. Even Shoko wasn’t exempt from it.
“I’m sure she’s somewhere around here, Satoru. Just chill out.”
“Don’t tell me how to fucking feel, Suguru,” he growls.
The trio heads up stairs, Satoru leading the way. Shoko presses a hand on his shoulder meant to comfort, only to be shaken off. She draws her hand back to her chest. Hurt contorts her face. She wants to speak, but doesn’t.
Suguru notices her withdrawal. If he didn’t like you before, now he really doesn’t like you. “Ignore him Shoko. Don’t let him get to you,” he whispers.
She nods still clearly hurt.
In the hallway upstairs Satoru spots two familiar faces. “Mei Mei, Haibara!”
Only Mei Mei responds, looking at him. Her eyes scan up and down his body, and she lets out a snarky giggle. “You look like a madman all huffing and puffing. What’s your deal?” She points out.
He ignores her taunts. Usually he’d say something back to match her energy, but he doesn’t and it brings her shock. He questions her about you. Mei Mei hesitates to answer because your name doesn’t ring a bell in her mind.
“What exactly does this girl look like?”
He gives a clear, brief description.
“Her?” She tilts her head to the side.
“Where is she?” His voice darkens, almost threatening.
Mei Mei smiles wickedly and points an index finger to the bathroom. She’s been looking for some fun and drama all night and she’s just found it. “Your little friend is in there with Nanami, Satoru.”
Satoru's face fades of color, and his eyes grow wide before darkening again. He storms to the bathroom and forces open the door. The handle whams into the wall inside. You and Nanami flinch, entire bodies almost jumping in mid air.
He marches over to Nanami, a storm brewing behind his blue eyes. “You prick,” he grits. Leaning over, he glares at the blonde. “What the hell are you doing in here with her, huh?”
Nanami’s face twists in confusion. “What?” He utters out, still weak from vomiting.
You’re also just as dumbfounded as him. You have no idea what Satoru’s talking about and you’re at a loss for words.
“Don’t play dumb with me Kento, you foureyed freak.”
You leave your corner of the bathroom and stand at your childhood friend’s side. You tug at his shirt hem. “Satoru, leave him alone.”
But he ignores you. It’s like he doesn’t hear or see you.
“I didn’t do anything with her. Why would I when I don’t know her?” Nanami proposes.
Haibara, who’s crumpled like a paper on the hall floor, adds in his friend’s defense. “It’s true man, she helped him throw up without hurting himself or breaking anything in Shoko’s bathroom.”
The deathly expression fails to fade until you join in too. “Yeah, I helped him sober up inside here. I didn’t have anything else better to do while you three went off getting beers or whatever.”
Satoru’s face eases up and he backs away from Nanami. Gradually his temperament cools and as it does realization settles in. Back to reality he glances around. Everyone stares at him with fear and concern written in their faces.
Gojo Satoru losing his temper? They’ve never heard of it.
Mentally he curses at himself for letting a minor misunderstanding send him into a blind rage. Lighthearted laughter erupts from him. “I think I had too many drinks tonight”, he lies. “We’re gonna head out now, come on.”
He strides out of the bathroom and you follow when he calls for you to come too. No goodbyes to his friends or apologies are given.
***
On the ride back home it’s mostly silent. No obnoxious ear bleeding music, no talkative Satoru, no nothing. Just an uneasy tense quiet and the faint hum of heat flowing through the vents.
You want to talk, and dig answers clean out his mouth. But you don’t. You simply keep your eyes ahead on the dark road lit up by his headlights. You wonder what’s keeping you tongue tied. Could it be the stone cold expression he wears on his features, you wonder? Is it the way he subtly grips the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white? Or how his nostrils flare when he lets out a deep breath? Maybe it’s everything about him as of now.
God, you don’t know.
Sooner than later he pulls into your apartment complex parking lot. His car rumbles after coming to a halt by the entrance door.
“Toru,” you murmur, glancing at him.
The nickname you rarely ever use softens his stone face. Even his firm hands loosen on the steering wheel. Only his eyes travel over to you for a mere second, then look straight ahead again. He stays quiet.
Your whole body turns toward him now and you lean in close. A small gap separates your faces. “Toru, please talk to me, you’re worrying me. What’s wrong?”
A shudder ripples his shoulders. Then Satoru's chest deflates, a sigh escaping his lips. “I was worried about you.”
“But, why?”
He lets out another quick breath of air. “Cause I thought something happened to you.” He stares you directly in the eyes. “Something bad.”
Your lips form an O shape. More questions flood your brain, but you don’t ask them. Further forcing him to explain isn’t something you want to do right now. You may have an internalized hatred and envy for him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have any care for him. Because you do care. How could you not care after all these years of him glued to your hip?
You swallow the newly formed lump in your throat. “I see. Well, I’m sorry I caused you to worry about me.”
He shakes his head. Regret, shame, and guilt, killing his spirit. “No. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who owes Nanami an apology.”
You don’t deny him that. He’s got a valid point.
“Okay, well I’ll see you later then. Night.”
“Night.”
He watches you, making sure you safely get inside before driving off.
***
The rest of the weekend you don’t see Satoru or hear from him. For once peace and silence engulfs your apartment. At first it’s strange, foreign, but in the end you learn to appreciate it. Also, you don’t reach out to him either. You figure what’s the harm in giving him his space after Friday night.
Monday rolls in. You're back in class with all your assignments turned in and ready for the next bundle of workload. Each class sails smoothly and the same as usual. Except for your last class of the day. An unfamiliar face sits in the seat next to yours in the back of the lecture hall.
Black ink tattoos adorn his handsomely sculpted face and the sides of his neck. Strangely placed they are, it compliments him surprisingly well. Even you can admit that.
One part of you finds annoyment in the fact he chose a spot coincidentally right next to yours. The other part is drawn in to him and curious as a cat, wondering what he’s like. But, the ruling thought in your mind overrides all others, telling you there’s nothing to know about the new guy. He’s just another dude who probably dropped one class and added this one to his schedule. Irresponsibly. At
You take your seat next to him and once the professor waltzes inside, class begins. Instead of the usual notes taking day, he puts on a movie related to the topics you guys are learning. While watching the film, boredom kills you, but a pair of lurking eyes on your left side watches you.
At least that’s what you think. One minute goosebumps cover your neck. Sensations of being closely watched creep up the side of your face, burning your skin. But when you peek in the new guy's direction, he’s staring straight ahead.
Weird.
The professor dismisses class and everyone bolts out. Some of them if not all likely have other noon classes to attend. But, since you're done for the day you take your time, gathering your belongings and shoving them into your book bag.
Finally packed ready to go, you look up to see the new guy talking with the professor. It has nothing to do with you, so you head for the exit only to be stopped in your tracks by the professor. He calls your name loud and clear.
You turn, looking at him. “Yes?”
“Sukuna Ryomen is playing the catch up game and needs notes and concepts we’ve long ago explored explained to him. Can you give him a helping hand?”
Hell no is what you wanna say. “Uhh, I don’t know. It may slow me down in my other classes, sir.”
He smiles, having a trump card up his sleeve not even you can refuse. “Extra credit if you do me this solid.”
You freeze for a second in thought. In his class specifically you’re stuck at an irritating ninety percent while in other classes you score one-hundred percent. It’s a shot you can’t throw away. You bite the inside of your lip. “How many points?”
Knowing he’s got you in his grasp, the professor laughs. “Fifteen points. Sure to boost that A minus to an A plus.”
No thoughts, you blurt, “deal!”
“Great.” His smile widens. “You two should get to know each other then. Dismissed.”
Sukuna lazily strides forward following you out the lecture hall into the long corridor. An awkward silence thickens the air between you two. It makes you wish maybe you hadn’t been so greedy and thirsty for fifteen measly extra credit points.
“So,” you begin, “why’d you wait so long to switch courses? Isn’t the deadline like… over?”
“I found my last professor's voice to be insufferable and last week I just couldn’t take it anymore,” he simply states as if that’s not something incredibly odd to admit. Not to mention his stoic demeanor makes it no better.
You're at a loss for words.
“That’s new, I’ve never heard that one before.”
He doesn’t speak and again in mere seconds the silencing vibe from a few minutes ago returns.
“Well, okay. If you're not busy, meet me at the library tomorrow.”
“Can’t do that one.”
You perk up a brow at him. “And why’s that? The library is the perfect place for these kinds of things.”
Unable to control it, your real personality shines unlike the shy and awkward one reserved for strangers. Only Satoru gets a load of the true authentic you.
He finally looks at you after all this time, a hint of interest written on his face. “Because it’s closed down for two weeks. Construction reasons.”
“Oh.” Your face suddenly burns to the touch. “I didn’t know,” you squeak.
“Clearly.” He grins cockily.
Tonight you definitely won’t forget this moment for sure.
He digs out his phone. “Let’s exchange numbers and you can meet me at my place tomorrow night since I’ll only be free then,” he states as matter of fact.
***
The next day comes quickly and is a blur up until it’s time to meet with Sukuna. Being the introvert you are, his number isn’t saved in your phone. Sitting next to him during lecture hall doesn’t help or make you save it either. So when your phone buzzes in your back pocket, you pause and stare at the unfamiliar digits.
xxx-xxx-xxx: I’m room 666
You: Who is this?
xxx-xxx-xxx: u didn’t save my number? That’s cute.
You: What? Who are you?
xxx-xxx-xxx: Sukuna
Your phone almost slips your hands. “Oh him.” You make sure to save his number this time around.
Stopping home, you freshen up in the shower, chow down a quick snack and put on something more comfy. Plain sweat pants, a hoodie and sandals. Sukuna lives on campus too, so the walk over is less than ten minutes.
As you wait for Sukuna to answer the door, something fuzzy rubs against your leg. A stray cat with pure white fur, purrs and meows. The sight of it melts your heart.
“Aww, well aren’t you the cute little one?” You bend down and pet it. Its eyes are blue and vibrant like the sea and like someone you know.
Satoru.
Now that he’s crossing your mind, he still hasn’t reached out to you at all. It was strange at first until it wasn’t and now it’s becoming weird, concerning even. It’s not like him. Satoru isn’t the type who stays away for days. No texts, no funny memes sent or anything. It’s worrying you.
A wonderful idea pops into your mind. You decided when you're back home you’ll give him a ring. If he doesn’t answer, you stop by his place. Problem solved.
Apartment door 666 swings open. A shirtless tattooed chest dripping wet, moist salmon pink hair, Sukuna stands in the doorway. He nods, signaling you to come inside and you do.
Anyone else would be in shock, discomfort or drooling at the nude sight of him. Not you. How could you of all people be? You can’t count on both hands how many occasions you’ve seen a naked Satoru. More than anything, annoyance fills you. You can’t stand guys who shamelessly flaunt themselves off. It’s not impressive or hot, just strictly annoying.
So, you walk right past him unfazed.
“So where will we be getting this session started?”
Sukuna, however, is impressed by your resistance. Given his godly good looks, girls drool over him. But nope, not you. You’re different. One of a kind. “My room. It’s on your left straight to the back.”
He closes the door, locking it in one go then follows after you to his bedroom. His bedroom has a common repeating theme—black and blood red. Heavy metal bands posters decorate the walls. Upside down crosses lay scattered on a dresser and red LED lights dimly glow barely lighting up his room.
“Nice room you got here, buddy,” you say, voice stale and dry..
He chuckles low. “Doesn’t sound like it’s nice to you.”
“Well, if that’s what you think. Anyways, let's get started on the topic. I’ve gotta be home before seven.”
“Fair enough.” He pays a trip to the bathroom to get dressed before joining you back in his room.
Sukuna’s quieter than a forest at night as you explain several complex concepts. He follows along, his eyes closely examining you point at specific written notes in a notebook. You don’t realize him sitting too close to you on his bed, too hyperfixated on the notes.
There’s others things you also fail to notice from the moment you two met. Compared to you, like Satoru, Sukuna’s height is towering. Every aspect of his body makes yours look like a small fun size thing. At this very moment, he’s hovering over you. His hands, huge and veiny, crease the bedsheets near your thighs. He’s practically got you caged in his arms leaning into you while listening to you speak.
“Do you comprehend everything so far?” You don’t bother looking up, flipping through pages.
He leans back a little, admiring your face. From the way your big glasses refuse to stay up your nose bridge, the plumpness of your lips, the stern little expression dancing on your features. It’s all so cute to him and he doesn’t know why. You’re nowhere near his type. He’s into flamboyant, hot, mean girls who suddenly become brain dead around him. Bend to his every command. He finds it fun to break them in half.
He’s never tried with a nerd though because he never wanted to. But, you, he’s debating giving it a go.
This time you look away from the notes. “Hey, did you hear me? I said do you-”
“Shut up.”
“What?”
He leans in closer to you. His fire brown red eyes lock with yours. “Nerdy girls like you are usually not my thing.” His voice drops low to the depths of hell.
Your brain screams for you to back away, but you don’t. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying you’re doing something to me.”
“Huh?”
“How bout we worry about you catching me up later on and have a little fun?”
Suddenly his body hovers yours more than it did a few seconds ago, no longer ignorable. You can even feel heat emitting off his body and smell a scent of sharp cinnamon. Probably his body wash.
“W-What type of fun?”
He slightly tilts his head, pure astonishment on his face. “Ever heard of sex? Or are you really an inexperienced little nerdy girl?”
Sex?
Time freezes and your mind goes blank as a white canvas. Sex has never been of interest to you. Why would it be? Or at least that's what you’d ask yourself whenever the topic comes up. Satoru, the fuck boy he is, always has sex. You don’t realize it yourself, but he’s the reason you refuse to do it because of how sinful and shameful he is about it. Not to mention the anxiety and stigma holding you back from doing it. Growing up the nerdy, undesirable girl also stops you. Afterall, who wants the four eyed freak?
Too blunt for your own good, you squeak, “but I’m a virgin. You can’t possibly have sex me! It won’t work! Plus, it wouldn't be any fun since I’m inexperienced.”
His smirk deepens, eyes glimmering with more desire and hot lust. “It’s not a problem when you’re with someone like me.”
He leans down closer, his chest forcing you back on the bed. Your head lands on his soft pillows. The only thing holding up your frame just barely is your elbows. Saliva gathers in your throat before you gulp it down, staring up at him, eyes wide and innocent. Which turns him on even more, especially between his legs.
“Don’t worry I’ll take good care of you and won’t be too rough. I promise,” he rasps.
His frame looms over you. At both sides of your head are his hands, his strong arms bulging sculpted muscles. You can even see his pecs begging to burst out his compressed black short sleeve shirt.
Your lips part to speak, but a swift thought hits you harder than a brick. Maybe losing your virginity isn’t such a horrible idea. Sukuna is hot enough for you or he’s as hot as it gets for the likes of you. This isn’t a chance you’ll probably ever get again. Like a gift presented from the Gods themselves. Afterwards you can cockily brag all about it to Satoru who sometimes teases you about being a prude virgin for covering your eyes during sex scenes in films you watch together.
“Wait,” you whisper.
He pauses, his lips ghosting above yours, heart radiating from them. “Hmm?” He hums.
“Just please be gentle…I hear about how much it hurts and I don’t want it to hurt.”
He soaks in the view of you for a brief moment. Doe eyes behind thick framed glasses looking up at him. Pouty plump lips begging to be devoured. The way your hands rest on your chest, fidgeting. He licks his lips, a silver piercing showing on his tongue, as he trembles with uncontrollable greed.
He wants to ruin you and plans to do it.
He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I promise it won’t hurt.”
You shyly nod, cheeks flushing warm.
It happens fast. Your lips are crushed by his. You’ve never kissed anyone before, and don’t know what to do but you try to anyway. He devours your smaller lips to an unspoken rhythm and you try to follow along. It’s messy, hot and wet. Sounds you’ve never made before spill out, filling the room. A whimper or two slips you as you desperately keep up with Sukuna’s lips, pants from the adrenaline coursing through your body.
When he draws back, freeing your mouth, a long thread of saliva connects both of your lips. “Good job keeping up. It was sloppy, but cute. I’d use my tongue, but it’d be too much for you, wouldn’t it?”
You stay quiet, looking anywhere else but at his face. You're too scared to look because any false moves will drown you in a world of embarrassment.
“Hey.” He grips your chin, forcing you to meet his stern gaze. “Eyes on me when I speak to you. Understand?”
Your heart flutters nonstop. “Mhm.”
His fingers grip harder on your chin. “Use your words.”
A gasp sneaks past your lips. “O-Okay.”
“Good girl.”
Underneath your baggy hoodie, his rough callused hand explores your belly. Electrical sparks ignite everywhere his hand glides along your skin. Soon his hand makes its way under your bra.
“Soft skin. Just how I like it.” He squeezes your breast before doing the same to your nipple.
Instead of a little whimper a surprised moan rushes out your mouth. You smack a hand on your lips, disgusted and shocked. You never heard yourself moan before and for some odd reason you absolutely hate how it sounds.
Sukuna chuckles. “You’ve never even touched yourself before have you?”
You shake your head no.
He pinches your nipple again, but this time roughly. It wringes out another sharp moan from you.
“Words. Use your words.”
Right, he doesn’t want you to be a mute. “No,” you whine.
“I can tell. Most girls these days won’t even sweat if I touch their tits. But of course you would.”
“Don’t mock me, asshole.”
He pinches it again, but you bite your lips holding back any sound.
“I’m not and watch your tone.” He warns, voice dangerous and husky.
He discards your hoodie and sweat pants in some random place on the floor. The only thing left is your pink lacy panties and bra. It’s a matching set you bought not too long ago in an attempt to be more girlier.
“What a surprise. I expect your underwear to be as plain as you dress.” You cover yourself, but he binds your wrist above your head. “Don’t get shy now, or I’ll tie you to my bed’s rails.”
Once he frees your wrists, his lips, soft and warm, kiss a line from your neck down to your breasts.
He strokes up and down your slit covered pussy, and gradually traces soft teasing circles on your most sensitive area—your clit. It drives you mad, the pleasure, the kisses and licks on your neck. Then he does the worst thing possible.
He removes your bra easily, and plays with your breast too. Your body twitches and trembles as Sukuna tongue glides in loops before sucking your bud as his hand lazily stimulates your clit. By now you're a drenching wet mess in your panties, leaving a damp spot.
Then it happens. Your body jolts, back arched, shaking as you let out a loud whiny moan. His mouth frees your nipple with a pop and he leans back.
You’re a sight to behold and he drinks in every inch of you. From your flushed cheeks, heaving chest, parted plump lips.
He laughs. “Only took my fingers and mouth, huh. How adorable and pathetic,” he mocks between laughs.
Far too tired, you can’t speak, trying to catch your breath. He slips a hand past your panties to play in your sensitive wet heat. You flinch at the touch, whining and whimpering.
“You’re wet enough down here. That was pretty easy.” He inserts one digit, pumping it in and out. His fingers' pace is slow. “Looks like I won’t be needing my fingers after all to stretch you open.” He slides in another finger then another. He thrust them in slowly, gradually swiftly building up speed.
You cry and writhe under him until he pulls them out, and through hazy vision you watch him lick every bit of slippery slick.
“D-Don’t do that, it's gross,” You breathe.
In response he shoves all three in his mouth, sucking and licking them clean, eyes still locked with yours. Impatiently he yanks off his shirt, pants and your panties too. Last goes the boxers. His dick is huge, bigger than you anticipated, standing proudly. The tip is an angry red, leaking precum.
“Let’s fuck raw, I’ll buy you plan B afterwards.”
You nod not knowing what else to do in a moment like this. Before you can blink your legs are spread wider with him between them, sliding his shaft against your folds.
The neediness returns, hitting like a truck. “J-Just put in it already! Stop teasing me,” you cry.
“So needy and impatient, aren’t you?” He drawls, lining himself up with your hole and thrust in. Your walls separate, hugging his dick tightly.
You throw your head back on the pillow unconsciously, whining. “O-Ow. Ow! It hurts! Why does it hurt, Sukuna?” Fresh tears pool in your eyes.
He leans in close and is careful to not move too quickly, avoiding adding on to your suffering. His hands rest above your head, balling the sheets in his hands as he holds back not to move deeper inside your walls.
“You forget yourself. A virgin is always gonna be in pain at first…Fuck…” he hisses, bitting his lip, feeling your walls tighten around him.
Overwhelmed, more tears stream down your cheeks. “You liar! You promised it wouldn’t hurt.”
“I didn’t lie. It won’t hurt, but I have to move,” he shakily groans.
“No, pull it out. I don’t want it anymore.”
Hot irritation spikes in him and, he suddenly remembers why he doesn’t fuck virgins. The idea of ruining them is always a fun fantasy, but actually dealing with one is a major pain in his ass. Of course he doesn’t want to pull out. You got to cum and he wants to as well. It’s only fair.
“Baby, hey, listen to me. Look at me, please?” His rough, grumpy voice ceases, replaced by a softer one.
It works on you too. You do as he says, pouting.
“I promise it’s going to feel good. So fucking good. I just have to start moving or else it’ll never feel good, okay?”
And when you only offer an obedient nod, he doesn’t bother making you be verbal. He buries his head in your neck, slowly rolling his hips. It’s hard, but he manages to control his overwhelming thirst and greed to slam his hips in you unapologetically. Not yet. He reminds all good things come with patience.
He liters the crook of your neck in wet sloppy kisses before sucking, leaving colorful hickies,
Small, quiet breathy moans begin filling the bedroom paired by the sound of your wet pussy being stretched by his dick. One moment your hands awkwardly scrunch the bed sheets in fists, but slowly find themselves around Sukuna’s neck.
The longer he thrusts at a slow past, deep and steady, your pussy produces more slick. It makes it easier to slide in and out. Soon delicious pleasure takes over your mind and body.
You officially lose yourself in it, drowning to the very bottom.
“Kuna, m-more. I want more,” you pant, holding on tight to him for dear life, tits bouncing.
“Finally.” He lets loose and gives you what you want.
His hips slam hard and rough, knocking a loud moan out of you. Again and again, he repeats. He ends up taking off your glasses and dips in to steal your parted swollen lips. The bed creaks and bumps against the wall.
The neighbors are probably confused, wondering what’s that noise. But, Sukuna doesn’t give a fuck. It’s not like they haven’t heard a similar noise coming from his apartment. He’s pounded more girls into his sheets worse than how he’s fucking you. And they were louder, very loud.
You don’t think, only feel. But, if your brain, empty as it is, does manage to conjure up a thought or two, you think of how Satoru isn’t as wrong as you thought. You see why he likes having sex. It feels amazing and it’s like your nerves are stimulated on some sort of happy drug.
Sukuna devours every moan, whimper and cry as he sloppily kisses you. Somewhere on the bed, your phone buzzes drawing in his attention. He pulls back still rocking his hips in a newly adjusted position, holding both your thighs pressed down against your chest, earning deeper access.
“Your phone’s going off, baby.”
“Huh?” Stars float in your hazy vision.
He looks closer again, and recognizes the contact on the screen. Mischievous excitement courses through his veins. “Wanna answer?” I think it’s an important call,” he drawls, voice deep and rich.
You nod, too drunken from pleasure in the new position he’s folded you in, abusing your velvety walls.
Sukuna’s quick to grab the phone, answering on speaker.
“Hello?” The voice says.
“Hey,” he answers for you instead.
“The fuck? Who is this?”
“Aww, fuck I’ma little hurt. You don’t recognize my voice?”
There’s a long pause on the other line. Sukuna’s smirk widens into a devilish grin.
“Sukuna…what the fuck are you doing with her phone? Where is she?” The voice becomes loudly aggressive.
“FaceTime and find out.” Sukuna hits the hang up button, his dick hardening even more.
At the speed of light the phone rings again.
“K-Kuna? Who was it?” You manage to mumble.
He ignores you, answering the FaceTime call and pushes deeper. He goes so deep his dick kisses your cervix, making you whine the loudest you’ve been tonight.
“Where the fuck is she?” The voice booms.
Sukuna smirks in the camera. “Are you so sure you wanna know?”
“Where. The. Fuck. Is. She?”
No words spoken, he flips the camera on you. In the camera frame everything is seen crystal clear. The drool dripping down your chin. Your teary eyes, begging for more. Your exposed tits bouncing from every rough thrust he gives you. Your flushing cheeks and pouty lips. Everything.
Sukuna stops moving fast. Instead, he slides in and out deliberately and slowly .
As he expects, you whine, “please don’t. Fast, I want it faster please, Kuna!” Your body squirms against his strong hand holding your legs in place against your chest.
“Come on, baby. Say it again. I can’t hear you.”
“Please give me more. More. I promise I’ll be a good girl, so please.”
On the other line the camera view crashes to a pavement sidewalk before the screen goes black and hangs up.
***
You wake up curled on something warm and firm. Feels like skin on your fingertips. As your eyelids flutter, open, you realize it’s a man’s chest. You flinch at the sight and sit up. Your head spins from the fast movement before going away. The hand hooked around your waist pulls you closer and locks tighter.
You look to your right to find a sleeping Sukuna. Every memory from yesterday comes flying back one by one. Each one is a slap in the face, leaving you in shock.
Then the worst one of all hits you. You search the bed for your phone and break loose from his hold.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.”
“Aye, cut it out,” he groans, voice raspy and groggy.
You freeze, your eyes gliding over to him.
“All that moving is disturbing my peace.” He peeks open an eye, reaches for his own phone on his nightstand dresser. “It’s only ten in the morning, go back to sleep.”
You frantically shake your head. “I have to go.”
You jump out of the bed. Cold air hits your skin, making you whimper and shiver while searching for your clothes lost on the floor. “Where’s my phone?”
“Hell if I know.”
Any other time a response like that would’ve hit a nerve, but you’re far too nervous to care.
“Please, Sukuna, where is it?”
“Why should I tell you? You’ll just leave me anyway.”
Is he pouting? The guy who exudes so much dominance, who made you cry like a baby while pounding you into his mattress is pouting over you leaving? That’s rich.
“I-I promise I’ll come back! Plus I have to anyway cause our session was interrupted.”
“Fine.” He fishes underneath the he’s laying on and pulls out your phone.
“Thanks.”
But when he hands it to you it’s dead.
“Shit,” you sigh.
***
Back home in your apartment you ache and limp. Every inch of your body aches like hell. If you knew the aftermath of sex leaves you limping you wouldn’t have done it.
After a long shower your phone is half way charged and glowing in the darkness of your room. You unlock it and immediately race to the call logs. Immediately your heart sinks upon seeing who called last night.
“Satoru called?” Uncontrollably your hands shake, nearly dropping the phone. You instantly hit his contact. The phone doesn’t ring, instantly sent to voicemail.
“Leave a message! I’m not by my phone!”
You try again, again and again, but nothing changes each time. Just Satoru’s old automated voicemail from freshman year in university.
You don’t know why, but an unsettling wave of anxiety hits you. It makes your knees knock together and hands jitter. First he goes ghost for a couple of days then randomly calls while you’re losing your virginity. Now he isn’t picking up for you.
What the hell?
You try to shake the feeling but you can’t. It won’t stop. Then you realize you missed two classes and have three more to go. Classes you can’t afford being absent in or you’ll be dropped. And one of those classes has Sukuna in it.
Great, him again. You hope he doesn’t show today.
You rush out the apartment with your bag halfway zipped up, glasses missing, and sneaker laces sloppily tied. It takes ten minutes to get to class and on top of that you’re tardy. You suppose it’s better than being absent then dropped.
Class goes by fast and then it’s your lecture hall class up next. Sukuna in fact does show and he’s looking hotter than usual. You plop down next to him and instantly his attention is focused on you.
“Hey,” he purrs, sharp canine teeth you never noticed before, showing.
“Hi,” you mutter, looking straight ahead. The chair he’s in scrapes loud as he scoots closer.
“You get everything sorted out at home?”
Your head whips around at him. “What?” Your brows furrow.
He likes it, the way your face looks, trying to be intimidating or firm. It’s cute. There’s only one thing you're missing. He pulls out your glasses from his bag.
“Missing these?” He changes the subject with ease.
“Ah, oh!” You reach for them and put them on. “Yeah, I was wondering why I couldn’t see.”
He huffs out a laugh. “So cute.”
“Stop that. It’s not true anyways. I’m not cute.”
He keeps his gaze on you, laying his head down in his folded arms. “Don’t know. You’re pretty cute to me. Especially when you begged for more, saying a little nickname no girl’s ever called me during sex,” he drawls. Greed and lust brews behind his reddish brown eyes.
Heat rises in your face. You look around to see if anyone heard him. Then whisper yell, “shut up! Someone will hear.”
He chuckles, enjoying your torment. “No one in here heard me. But, I’m sure my neighbors heard you last night.”
“Cut it out!” You blurt, voice echoing off the walls.
The thing you tried so hard to stop happening happens. Eyes from every corner in the room stares. Some judgemental, others curious. The professor, however, shoots a scornful glare your way.
“Is there a problem?” He lifts an eyebrow, mentioning your last name.
“No, sir.” You look down at your desk, avoiding their eyes.
He clears his throat loudly. “As I was stating, class.”
For the remainder of class Sukuna doesn’t mess with you. Afterall, he’s the reason you were embarrassed by the professor.
Dismissed from class, he walks with you down the corridor, around campus and to your apartment unit. It’s not until you unlock your door, you realize he’s still sticking around.
“Ugh, why are you here? I’ve got plans, shoo!”
“Can’t a guy be a gentleman? I can’t make sure you get home?”
Your heart stutters, shock freezes you whole. But you’re fast to bounce back to normal. “Huh? There’s no reason for that! I’m not your girlfriend.”
He leans down, towering over you. “And who says you can’t be? Maybe I want you to be?”
Again you’re whiplashed by his shamelessness, drowning in pure confidence.
You sigh. All your life long insecurities come flooding in like tsunami waves. “Why would a guy like you want me? There’s nothing special about me.”
He leans in closer, grabs your chin and looks you dead in the eyes. “Stop talking lowly of yourself. It’s fucking annoying. If you were this ugly piece of shit, don’t you think I wouldn’t be standing right here right now?”
His words are harsh, cruel, but ring with undeniable truth. To hear such a thing come out of someone's mouth like his sounds too good to be true when all your life you’ve been a nobody nerdy girl. A total loser compared to other girls. Never chosen, always last, or overlooked.
“R-Really?” Your voice cracks, still in denial.
“Aww don’t cry.”
It’s too late. Tears are already filling your eyes and falling. The pad of his thumb gingerly wipes them away. An unknown softness rules over his face for once unlike usual.
“You’re beautiful to me. I wanna get to know you more.” He blows out a breath, somewhat embarrassed being all mushy. “Take you out on some dates, buy you gifts. You know romantic things guys do before making it official.”
Your heart swells with warmth. It’s a feeling you’ve never known before, especially coming from another person that’s a male.
“You’d like that?” A tint of blush clouds his tattooed cheeks.
You nod, smiling through tears. “I-I would.”
He grins softly. “Okay, text me. Let me know when you’re free and let’s make it happen. Now get inside,” he commands.
“Okay.” You sniffle.
Once inside you slide down the locked door and do something foreign you’ve only ever seen in movies—you squeal like a teenage high school girl. You got a date and he’s actually hot.
You gleefully skip around your apartment, Satoru no longer plaguing your mind, forgotten. For once in your life you decide to kick back and relax. You change into comfy pjs, pop some popcorn and drink a can of soda while watching one of your favorite shows. Two hours pass on and the sun no longer beams in the sky. The living room is one big shadow illuminated by the flat screen TV.
Your doorbell rings. But, you don’t hear it due to the loudness of the show. It rings again and again. Still you don’t hear it. Then three booming knocks fill your entire apartment. You jolt, sitting up from your slouched position on the couch. With the remote you pause the show and slowly walk over to the door.
Through the peep hole is Satoru, standing. You gasp, eyes growing big. You can’t believe you forgot all about him so easily. One last time looking through the tiny hole, you get a good glimpse of him. He stands there in all black from top to bottom and a hood over his head. He’s even wearing a black mask as oddly as it sounds. Usually he wears clothes that match his unmatched flamboyant personality.
You unlock the door and open it. “Satoru! I-I’m so sorry about yesterday. Y-You didn’t see or hear anything weird on the phone right cause I-”
He bumps past you, coming inside and shuts the door hard, shaking the walls.
Uhh, okay?
He pulls down the mask and takes off the hood. His hair is a mess of uncombed white strands. Dark bags are underneath his eyes and his skin is paler than usual. In his eyes there’s a frenzied look to them you’ve never seen before. The night at Shoko’s party you recall seeing a glimmer similar to it, but this is way worse. Scary even.
“Hey, uh, you okay?”
He leans back on the wall, dropping his head into his palm. His chest heaves as he pants uncontrollably. “What the hell were you doing with Sukuna Ryomen yesterday?”
You go stiff. “You know him?”
His head snaps up, darkened eyes glaring daggers at you. “Do I know him?” Satoru hisses through gritted teeth. “Of course I fucking know him!” He spits.
Embarrassment rises in you and suddenly you wish the floorboards would just gobble you up. “Okay, besides the point. You didn’t answer my question.”
He laughs manically, looking around in astonishment. “Do you really wanna know?”
“God, stop playing around and answer the question!”
He springs off the wall, each step stomping over to you. You can’t help but to walk backwards until your back hits the wall and he’s cornering you. His body towers yours, casting a long shadow across your face as you stare up at him. More than ever you’re confused and somewhat anxious. The way he’s acting isn’t normally like him.
His palms slam above your head. You squeak and flinch like a horrified mouse before daring to look up to his irate gaze. “I saw. I saw it all,” he growls, his jaw tightening.
Too many emotions at once are twirling within you out of control. Your cheeks burn hot, tears of humiliation glisten in your eyes, your body trembles on edge not knowing what Satoru’s going to do next. “T-That wasn’t supposed to happen,” your voice comes out barely above a pathetic whisper.
“It shouldn’t have happened at all. You shouldn’t be fucking losers like Sukuna!”
“That’s not fair! You have sex all the time with girls. But I can’t do it with one person?”
He bends down to your level, making sure his wide eyes lock with yours. “He’s fucking dangerous. Do you understand? He doesn’t fucking like you. Why would he like you? Look at you!”
You gasp. His words cut deep. Deeper than imaginable. He’s never insulted you before. Ever.
“G-Get out.”
He pulls away, realizing what slipped from his mouth. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out for a while as he thinks of the right thing to say.
“I said get out,” You utter.
“I-I didn’t mean that. Please, I’m sorry. I’m just worried for you. He’s really not a good guy. Sukuna runs around with gangs, sells drugs, and commits crimes. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. There’s blood on his hands and I don’t want you in the middle of it all,” he rambles, voice shaky.
You yell, “get the hell out! I don’t care! Get out! Get out!”
For the first time in his life of being around you, his heart wavers in pain. Of all the things you’ve said and called him, this hurts worse. Or maybe it’s because of your broken voice, teary red face and look of betrayal.
Then he makes the worst mistake possible, inching close again in a desperate attempt to comfort you.
“D-Don’t fucking touch me,” you wail, jerking away from his reach.
He calls out your name softly, but it doesn’t reach you nor your shattered heart.
“Please leave me alone. Go away, Toru.”
Then using his nickname only you ever use. His heart throbs, cracking into pieces.
“I’m sorry,” he rasps.
Then he’s gone. You're left on the hallway floor, drowning in your own tears.
To Be Continued