Mean, Rich, & Mine Pt.1
18+ content, Minors do NOT interact
Pairing: Frat Boy Sukuna x F!Reader
Warnings: bullying, degrading
Summary: The rich students at Calvary University frown upon the scholarship girl who doesn't come from money. However, Sukuna intends to make her pay for thinking she can come on campus and pretend to be one of them. What he doesn't expect is her reaction.
Art Credit: @innaillus
Word Count: 2.6k
Chapter 2
Life as a scholarship student at Calvary University isn’t what you’d expect. At the elite school for the wealthy and well-bred, there’s no congratulations or respect for being a genius. Only the president cares that you aced all six entrance exams. Being smart enough someone’s willing to pay your share of tuition isn’t an achievement, in the eyes of the students, it’s a disgrace. Your tenure is full of painfully obvious signs that you don’t belong, like the car you drive or the brand of your backpack. You’re not some country club debutant, you’re the hard working daughter of a nurse. You have a part time job, a work study, and a perfect GPA. Those are your assets.
And still every time you open your laptop in class, someone sneers at its make and model, but you… you pretend. You choose to ignore their ignorant scoffs, their sniggers and snorts. They’re just rich idiots. Rich connected assholes with jobs you’re twice as qualified for, already lined up after graduation. You’d kill to have those kind of connections… but again, you pretend. It’s all you can do to cope with being the black sheep of the campus.
Some days it eats you up. Some days it doesn’t. But then there’s days like today where you get noticed by your crush for all the wrong reasons. He stands in the middle of the grassy mall. His nearly seven foot stature filled with bulking muscles, and skin painted in black tattoos. Even the lines of his face are emphasized by ink. Then there’s his messy pink hair and those red eyes. The contacts he wears are intimidating and oh so sexy. He’s the kind of man they write villain tales about; the kind that end in smut. Every time your good girl eyes land on him, your core clenches, wanting him to do terrible things to you. But now that he’s talking to you, you wish he’d never noticed you in your knock off chunky loafers and Levi jeans, and graphic tee crop top.
“Hey charity girl” the unfairly hot pink-haired bad boy calls, “what’d you do to earn our payments towards this little charade?”
“Charade?”
“You know, pretending to be one of us.”
You shake your head upset that he’s no different than the rest, “I’m not here to be like you. I just wanted a really good education.” your words lose their volume as you speak, your eyes dropping to the ground.
“Sure, whatever you say. So how does this charity thing work? You dance or sing or something and we pay you?”
“Wha-what? No! I’m just really good at school. It was an academic scholarship cause of my GPA and Entrance Exam scores.”
“What are you saying? You think we’re dumb or something?”
“No! Nothing like that. Look, I'm sorry to have bothered you. See you around.”
You know you have nothing to apologize for, you’re just trying to get away without a fight. Quickly, you bolt out of the situation, speed walking away before he can twist any more of your words. You know you never knew him, but your heart still thunders with heartbreak as you come to terms with the fact that even your crush will never view you as anything other than the poor girl. The one who infiltrated their campus and darkened their doorstep with her Sketchers shoes and Shein clothes. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you tell yourself to get it together. You’re here to learn, nothing more. These Calvary jerks will be a thing of the past in a few more semesters. Only three and a half to go. You’re more than halfway through, just a little longer.
You assume after your short encounter with your tattooed antihero, he’d forget about you. But he doesn’t let it go. Only a week later you pass Sukuna on the sidewalk. To avoid confrontation you begin to speed walk out of sight when you hear a faint “oh no you don’t” followed by the sound of someone jogging. Soon a heavy hand is placed on your shoulder, “Hey, Charity.”
“That’s not my name.”
“Doesn’t matter. Hey, you free this Saturday?” you press your lips together, feeling like a trap is being set.
“Well, I was going to focus on my research project that day. Why?”
“I’m having a get together. You’re invited.”
“You’re serious?” disbelief knocks you off kilter. Is the sexy hunk in front of you actually trying to invite you to a party?
“Yeah, here’s my number, text me and I’ll send you the address.”
In spite of your foreboding that he’s probably just trying to fuck, later that evening you message him. Quickly, he sends you his address. You’re surprised by his eagerness. Only when you enter it into your phone is it revealed that it’s directions to a soup kitchen.
Ha. Ha. Very funny.
What? I thought it could be helpful. You know, since money’s tight.
I’m blocking you. I don’t have time for your stupid games.
Wait, I’ll give you my real address, the one to the frat house. Look it up.
You enter the new address he gives.
You check yet?
Yes, but idk what you want me to do with this.
Come over.
A treacherous part of your heart wants to do it. You want so badly for him to be extending an olive branch but you know he’s not. Someone like him has no business with someone like you.
I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m busy with school and I still have to go do my work-study hours.
Work-study? What is that?
It’s when you work at the college in exchange for tuition assistance.
Damn. You must be broke-broke.
No, you’re just rich-rich and tuition here is insane. Anyways, thanks for the invite but maybe some other time.
For a few weeks, he left you alone. Yet, for some crazy reason, you kept checking your phone, a small part of you wishing he’d text you again. The stupid part of you did at least. But he let you be, abandoning you and leaving only the normal microaggressions to keep you company. However, less than a month later his name appears on your phone once more.
Hey Charity
Still not my name
Come over.
Why?
I need help with class
What’d your professor say?
And admit that I’m stupid? Hell no.
Fine. Which class?
Just come over.
I guess. When are you free?
Tonight.
You check your schedule and your homework agenda before responding
I can squeeze you in but you really should talk to the professor. They tend to like students who reach out to them
Nah, that’s embarrassing. I’d rather have a peer. Plus ur the one who said you’re good at school. Be here in 2 hours?
A heavy sigh pushes its way out of your chest.
Sure.
Is it probably a bad idea? Sure. Is it possible that one of these assholes could be a decent human being? Dear gods, you hope so.
You step up to the brick frat house fresh from your most recent lecture, textbook and laptop still in your bag, your chunky loafers toeing against the stoop of the kitchen’s’ back door. This is a bad idea, your gut knows it, but hope spurs you on. Your shaking fist raises and raps a quick knock against the door after you text Sukuna you’re here.
It sounds loud inside. Certainly not an environment for studying. Then the door swings open and the smell of cigarettes, weed, and alcohol waft past the threshold. You cough while you wave your hand in front of your face.
“This is where you live? How can you concentrate?”
He shrugs. “You get used to it. Why, you live in a public library or sumin’?” You scowl at him before he turns around and walks away. You assume you’re supposed to follow him so you step lightly into the house and close the door behind you.
The place looks nothing like it smells. Your eyes oogle at the white kitchen with marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. The floors are black and white printed tiles, like what you see in the movies. There’s Corinthian columns framing the entrance to the living room where the floors switch over to hardwood. This frat house looks more like a governor’s mansion than a college student dwelling. Once you enter what looks like a parlor off the side of the living room, you see a group of men piled on various black leather couches surrounding a stripper pole. Disgust flares your nose. These men seriously go off to college and use their parents’ money to pay for strippers?
“What? You don’t like it?” Sukuna turns to look at you.
“Why would you even need that?” you say gesturing to the metal in the middle of the room.
“To help girls like you. You said you earn money for tuition by working for the college. We thought we’d offer you some employment for your ‘work-study’.”
Your jaw drops in outrage. “Are you serious?!”
“Hey Sukuna, is this that girl you were talking about?”
Your head snaps over to where three of the men stand up and stride over to you.
“Yeah, she’s not half bad.” one says, trying to take your backpack from you while the other sniffs your face. You rip away from them when the third snakes his arm around your waist and reaches up to grab your breast. You stomp on his foot and start backing away towards the kitchen.
“You fucking asshole! I work in the libraries and department offices! Not as a damn stripper for your amusement!”
“Why are you getting so bent out of shape, Charity?” He pretends like the question is innocent but his eyes gleam with mirth.
“Just fucking leave me alone!” You storm out of the house, tears streaming down your face. But before you pass their manicured lawn you make sure to block Sukuna’s number. The too-hot-for-his-own-good asshole is not going to bother you again. You will never come back here and you will never believe another word he says.
Meanwhile back at the house Sukuna’s laughing, enjoying how perfectly you took the bait.
“Damn, does being poor put a stick up your ass” his friend Mahito asks still sitting on the couch.
“Yeah, any of the other girls would’ve played along just to keep getting invited over here” Geto piles on, sinking back down in one of the leather chairs.
“That’s cause half the girls at this school have daddy issues. I bet her’s was never too busy with work to ignore his family” Sukuna mocks, waiving off your outrage as he takes a seat on one of the recliners among his buddies.
“Psh, fuck that. Daddy issues keep my bed warm,” the long-haired frat bro continues.
“Geto and his stage 5 clingers, no wonder you have so many.”
“What can I say? I like when they call me daddy.” he shrugs
Sukuna chuckles at Geto, still feeling smug about pulling one over on you. He enjoyed your attention more than he thought he would. Usually, when he fucks with girls it’s not this fun. Yet, part of him wishes you played along. There’s something hot about you, especially when you’re mad. You're petite compared to him, with thick thighs and perfect tits hidden under your cheap clothes. If he could’ve gotten you half naked before pissing you off, he’d probably try to fuck you in front of the entire house. But you’d never allow that, you’re not like other girls. You have more dignity than these rich sluts and a fire that only comes from someone who worked for everything they have. All that might, contained in your little frame, makes him ache in a familiar way.
Later that night Sukuna’s lying in bed thinking of more ways to mess with you. He can’t seem to get you out of his head. Especially the way you yelled at him. The balls on you. He decided he wants more. Time for the next phase in his plan to get you into his bed. Surely a poor girl like you would do anything to be with someone rich like him. So in a classic move, he texts you
Hey, you up?
Only the blue iPhone bubble turns green. …She blocked me.
The next day you're traveling across campus, running from one class to the next, trying to make it to the math building on the other side of campus when a giant shadow appears behind you. Anger immediately flares in your chest, knowing who that shape belongs to. You come to a halt, spinning on your heel.
“What do you want? You gonna try to hire me as a prostitute next?”
You almost miss the anger on his face before he spits his venom. “No one rejects me! Especially not some charity case.”
“So you’re pissed that I walked out on your little perverted party? You thought I should be grateful to you for insulting and demeaning me?!”
“Blocking my number was the wrong move, princess.”
“Oh, so I'm a princess now. Fuck off. Some of us are actually here to learn.”
You take a single step before his muscled hand grabs your bicep. Why does he care this much? You’re supposed to be for sport? Maybe it’s just the insult that a nobody like you would dare stand up to someone like him. “Don’t walk away from me.” he growls, not understanding his own anger.
“Watch me.” you bite back, your eyes narrowing.
Shocked, Sukuna accidentally lets go. You seize the opportunity and stomp away so livid you can taste iron in your mouth from frustration. Still amazed that anyone, especially some nobody, would defy him like that, the herculean king of campus just stands there, watching your retreating figure. Part of him mad, part of him impressed, and most of him suddenly bored and ready to find a new toy.
Months go by without a word from your ex-crush. Blocking him was definitely the right move as much as it hurts to look at your phone and realize he’s one of the only people who texted you all semester. Fortunately, you also figured out how to avoid him by staying away from areas where Greek life likes to hang out. However, the dumb part of your brain is slightly sad that the powerful and fearsome Sukuna lost interest in you.
Then you think back to that day at the frat house and you can’t believe you ever liked that walking trash can. You guess the outside doesn’t always match the inside, but why does it have to look so damn appealing? His absence is for the best. He’d only destroy your life if he continued to be in it but, when the new spring term started the last thing you expected was for Ryomen Sukuna to walk into your chemistry lab.
Fuck
Seeing him before he sees you, you discreetly tuck your head to the side, letting your hair obscure your face. Your mind races, calculating how you’re going to navigate the semester without him realizing you’re there. However, minutes into the beginning of class, the TA reads off your lab partners for the semester and as fate would have it, yours is the polished turd himself.
You glance across the room, mouth agape, to find a devious smile grinning back at you, his lips stretching ear to ear with his canines prominently on display…
“Everyone, go sit next to your partners!” the strong voice of your teacher’s assistant calls.
However, you’re glued to your seat. You can’t believe your rotten luck and watch in horror as Sukuna grabs his bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and walks towards you. The way his eyes pierce through the room and fixate on you makes you feel more like wounded prey as he wolfishly descends upon your lab table. Those red eyes never leaving your wide pupils.
He pulls out the stool next to yours and takes a seat, his gigantic frame shadowing your much smaller one even as you sit up straighter.
“Well, well, well, guess you’re forced to unblock my number now. Aren’t you, Charity?”
Masterlist I Chapter 2