SUMMA CUM LAUDE
academic rival mean!sukuna fucks good student fem!reader stupid
MINORS AND AGELESS WILL GET BLOCKED
part 1 | part 2
⟢ 18+ MDNI ⟢ 3.4k ⟢ cw /// coercion, spit kink, heavy degradation kink, humiliation kink, public sex, p slapping, p in v sex, rough sex, dirty talk, squirting, unsafe sex, cream pie
a/n: im sorry, i really really am. i clutched my pearls and my rosary the whole time bc i was SCARED, this one's kinda intense so please proceed with caution
❀🂭 ⛩ 🂭❀ ….. ❀🂭 ⛩ 🂭❀ ….. ❀🂭 ⛩ 🂭❀
you've never actually spoken to ryoumen sukuna, only hated him from afar. his stupid pink hair, his stupid baggy clothes, and his stupid fucking face. it all makes you want to rip your hair out at the root.
you're in the same advanced chemistry class, live in the same apartment building, study at the same library, frequent the same coffee shop. It pushes creepy, to the point that he could even be following you. wherever he finds you, he brings annoyance with him, and leaves a bad taste in your mouth when he goes.
you both sit in the front row in lecture, opposite sides, and practically race to raise your hands first every time a question is asked. you exchange glances across the room every time either of you gets a question right, every time you're handed back a test with a perfect score. even when you win, he's still so smug. like he's satisfied just to have your attention. it's fucking infuriating.
and so, its because of your stupid little unspoken rivalry that you find yourselves alone in the library at half past three in the morning, studying at tables on opposite sides of the room. you refuse to leave until he does, you can do this all fucking night. the only question is, can he?
so far, it seems like he could— that is, if he wants it as much as you do.
you look down at the numerous empty energy drink cans scattered amongst the sea of notes, flash cards, and textbooks. your head is in your hands as you try to focus, and you'd never admit it out loud, but you feel yourself fading fast.
your eyelids feel like they're made of lead and your head starts to sag between tense shoulders. you don't even realize when you nod-off. it only feels like a moment, like you only blinked, but you're startled awake by the sound of rustling paper and a zipper being closed.
your head snaps up with glassy eyes to look across the room where sukuna is packing up his things and swinging his backpack over his shoulder. he stands, pushes his seat under the table, and heads toward the exit behind you. you jolt awake, quickly shuffling to make it look like you're wide awake, like you weren't just on the verge of r.e.m.
he walks right by you, no more than a few feet away from the edge of your table, and doesn't even spare you a glance. fucking asshole. he looks tired, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than usual. you know that you don't look any better.
at least, now that he's gone, you can finally focus. well, at least for a few more minutes— long enough so that he'll be far away by the time you call it a night.
what you don't foresee is the sound of footsteps approaching from behind you not even two minutes later.
he stands at the edge of your table for a few awkward seconds before he clears his throat.
"hey." his voice. it shocks the sleepiness right out of you.
"hey." he smirks down at you when he hears the scratch of sleep deprivation in your voice— he wonders how much worse it would sound with a cock shoved down your throat.
"they, uhh," he points over his shoulder with a thumb, "they locked us in."
it takes you a few moments to really process the words. they bounce around inside your hollow skull while you try your best to decipher what he's saying. he can see the gears turning, and wipes an open palm down his lower face to hide a toothy grin.
"the door. we're locked in for the night." he's setting his backpack down and pulling out a chair before you can stop him. he turns it around and sits in it backwards, then wraps his arms around the backrest. his biceps flex in the short sleeves of his t shirt as he rests his chin on his forearms, eyes locked on yours.
"okay? there's plenty of couches to sleep on." you point a finger to the other side of the library, "over there."
"that's okay, i'm fine here." your dismissal goes right over his head, that or he chooses to ignore it. he looking at you like he can see into your soul, like he can see every thought running through your mind. he tilts his head, feigning confusion. "am i not welcome?"
you can't bring yourself to lie. you sigh, then —"no, you can stay." he notices when your gaze lingers too long on his lips on the way back up to his eyes. they just look so soft. you shake the thought out of your head as soon as you realize its there. ew.
you try your best to ignore him, to ignore the way he's eyeing you, canting his head a few degrees farther to look you up and down. he's not even trying to be subtle.
"are you just here to distract me? is that it? i bet the door isn't even actually locked."
"oh, am i distracting?" his obviously fake concern isn't cute, and he doesn't even try to hide the it— he knows exactly what he's doing to you. you only groan and try your best to keep your eyes on your notes. all the variables and equations are starting to look like alphabet soup dancing across college-ruled lines.
you dig your palms into your eye sockets, a futile attempt to polish away the fatigue.
there's no point in even trying anymore. you're stuck here for the night regardless, and to make matters worse, you've got a cocky asshole for a cellmate.
you sigh, finally accepting defeat as you close your textbook for the final time this semester, then look back over at him. you catch him trying to peer down the front of your top, he doesn't even bother pretending to be ashamed.
"you don't like me, do you?"
your answer comes immediately, even quicker than you expect it to. "what's there to like?"
"geez, what's got your panties in a bunch?" it's obvious to him that you've pondered this question before. you've thought about him? little victories.
"my panties are not in a bunch." the way your face scrunches up in useless anger is so cute. he wonders briefly what it would take for you to let him fucking ruin you like you clearly need so badly. no matter how hard you try to hide it, he can still see right through you.
"whatever you say, princess" you can't help it, you shove at his bicep, probably not as hard as you should. he doesn't budge.
"don't fucking call me that." this guy is going to drive you up a wall, how are you supposed to last all night? at this point, you're seriously considering just pulling the god damn fire alarm.
"what should i call you then?" you choose not to answer and he doesn't ask again. "okay, princess it is."
"do you get off on this or something?" your sleep deprivation is speaking for you now.
"this?" he gestures between the two of you, perhaps you should've been more specific. "and what would you say this is? in your professional opinion." you should kick him in the shin or something, anything to knock that shit-eating grin off his face. still, you come up with nothing, unable to put your tense non-relationship into words.
"well, if i didn't know better, i'd say you get off on this" the fatigue leaves your body like a vacuum.
"what?" you heard him clear as day, you're just hoping it was an auditory hallucination.
"I said, i think you get off on being a spoiled brat, princess." his eyes rake you up and down again, lingering far too long on your thighs and chest. its like he wants you to call him out on it—
"stop doing that." he scoots the chair a few inches closer.
"or what?" your mouth just hangs open, giving him his answer; nothing. "yeah, that's what i thought." the look in his eyes is cold, every blood vessel in your body freezes over. even though you've only known the sound of his voice for a few minutes, you can tell that its gotten raspier.
there's a lump in your throat that tastes like energy drink and jesus fucking christ. your mouth dries up from being open too long, and your tongue slides across your bottom lip in an attempt to wet it before you can catch yourself. he tracks the movement and does the same.
"relax, you're so uptight," another few inches closer, and his voice drops again, "loosen up." he's only looking at your lips, and you find yourself wanting to give in. whats the worst that could happen?
apparently, a lot.
it happens fast, he rises to his feet and sidesteps his chair to stand behind you, then hooks his hands under your arms to pull you up. one second you're standing, the next you're bent over the table, sheets of notes crinkling under your weight as a firm palm presses into your lower back.
"suk-!" he kicks your chair away and steps behind you, pressing his erection against your ass. its fucking huge. you look at him over your shoulder, as best you can at the awkward angle, "oh my god." he grinds forward, lets you really feel him, how hard he is for you.
"feel that?" he's staring at you with a cruel sort of amusement, then leans over you with his other hand curling into the flesh at your waist "i can help you loosen up, wouldn't that be nice?" he tilts his hips and grinds himself up against you again from a lower angle. his clothed cock pushes your skirt between your thighs. the fabric sticks to a wet spot already forming on your panties. he feels the heat there, knows you're already desperate for it, "all you gotta do is ask, princess."
it has been so long since you've been fucked, you've been so focused on classes, you can't even remember the last time you touched yourself. the thought of finally giving in to all the repressed fantasies you'd had about him, even this exact situation, is intoxicating. the hand on your lower back creeps down to the back of your thigh and hesitates there—
"well? ask for it." he already knows that he's won, but he wants to hear you say it, wants to hear how pretty you sound when you finally lose to him. he'd never really cared about your stupid petty rivalry, he'd just thought you looked so cute pissed off.
"pl- please, sukuna, help me." you regret it instantly when his face contorts into something even more conniving, but you forget all your past restraint as soon as his hand moves between your thighs, under your skirt, to cup your pussy.
"theeere you go, you need this so bad, huh?" he's fucking laughing at you now. "don't worry, i'm feeling generous tonight." he hooks a finger in your panties to pull them aside, then moves his other hand around and under you to find your aching clit. you breath out a broken moan onto the table, rustling the notes around you.
"so fuckin' wet already, knew you'd moan like a stupid slut too." you choke on nothing at the switch up in his attitude, like he just got possessed by a demon. his voice is cold and apathetic. you try to push yourself up off the table, but he pins you back down with his body weight, and shoves on of his legs between your thighs to keep you from trying to close them.
"sukuna, what th—" the hand that was cupping you moves to wrap around your face and pull it off the table, completely covering your mouth and jaw.
"you're prettier when you shut up." and you fucking moan. the finger on your clit starts circling with practiced precision. "you sound like a whore but you squirm like a fuckin' virgin. which one is it, hm?" he laughs again when your answer fails to escape from under his palm.
your whole body tenses when he speeds up, then he ruts up against you again, then again, and his breath hitches right next to your ear. your poor neglected clit is so sensitive, practically anything could make you cum after being celibate for this long. you clench around nothing— a string of your arousal stretches from your pussy and catches on your inner thigh and the crotch of his pants. you're so wet, he can barely even keep your clit pinned under his finger as you writhe. "stay still." his chest presses down harder and you try your best to stop moving, "just like that, good fuckin' girl."
he mouths at your ear, breathing heavy across the curvature, and you sqeeze your eyes shut. he's, just, everywhere. it's all too much but still not enough. its like torture, he's got you right where he wants you but still isn't giving you what he knows you need so bad. you try to dig your fingers under the palm over your mouth, fully ready to beg pretty for him, if he'll let you. you manage to make a gap big enough for your pleading to get through.
"sukuna, please, just—" for his own sake, he almost lets you get away with it, but decides against it. he's feeling generous, but not that generous.
"told you to shut up, you too stupid to listen now?" he eases his grip just enough for your reply, and it comes, whiny and pathetic, before you consider the consequences.
"m'too stupid." there's actual silence now and the circles on your clit come to an abrupt stop, and you whine into his hand
"don't worry, i'll fuck some common fuckin' sense into you." the hand between your thighs is gone, and he tightens the grip on your jaw— you're almost thankful for it, at least you can't humiliate yourself like that again. you hear him unzipping his pants and the next second you feel his freed cock throbbing heavy against your cunt. it had felt huge before, but now, you don't even have to see it to know that it's way bigger than you'd thought. you instinctually pull your hips away and yelp under his palm that is quickly getting sloppy with your spit. "what's wrong? scared of some dick?"
uh huh, uh huh you're nodding your head frantically, as much as he's willing to let you, and he snickers in your ear. you yelp, broken and pretty, as he yanks your upper body upright by your face. drool is spilling out from under his hand now and falling onto your notes, making a pitiful mess on all of your hard work. you can't find it in yourself to care.
his cock slides through your folds, parting them and gliding against the underside of your clit. he moans in your ear, rough and low, "fuck, princess." he's shoving your skirt up around your waist then gripping the base of his cock to line himself up with your sopping wet pussy, not bothering to take your panties off. instead, he lets them sit, twisted and soaked, biting into the flesh beside your crying cunt— then, he starts pressing inside maddeningly slow. he doesn't get farther than a few inches before your back is bowing away from him, and you're clenching down like a vice— "relax." it's not a request, and your body obeys instantly, letting him in. "god, still so tight though." the hand not on your mouth reaches around to play with your clit again, and you gasp.
"nnngh—" he shushes you, coos in your ear in a disgustingly condescending way, as he splits you open, hand working your clit expertly. you can't believe it when you feel his groin against your ass, his cock fully sheathed inside you. your chest rises and falls, more drool leaking onto your chest, under your top and into the valley between your breasts.
and then he's moving, hips drawing back before burying himself to the hilt again with a smack. you whine into his hand, it hurts but you can't get enough, you know instantly that you want it, need it, hard. you buck your hips back against him when he starts to pull out again, dragging against your sensitive walls that only try to suck him back in.
you moan, a muffled please, and he's fucking into you like he wants to break you in. its rough and pointed, kissing your cervix with each thrust, its everything you've ever wanted, and its him. he fucks you like he owns you, maybe he does now, like your quickly approaching climax belongs to him. the finger on your clit rubs faster circles for several beats before pulling away and coming back down with a hard smack, and you're crying now. tears well up in from your waterline and wet your eyelashes, spill down your cheeks and soak his palm, and he laughs.
your whole frame shakes against him when he smacks your cunt again, then returns to drawing fast circles where you need him most. you can barely keep yourself upright, knees threatening to buckle under you. you're so close to the edge that it mocks you, just a little longer, just a little more, almost—
the broken sob that escapes you is humiliating when you squirt, and his still moving fingers splash your release everywhere— his hand, his balls, his pants, your thighs, the floor; and his hips don't stop even for a second. "nasty fuckin' bitch, you're makin' a mess." he slaps your clit one more time, then both of his hands are gone. all you can manage is a pitiful gasp, a desperate attempt to get oxygen back to your brain, before he's shoving your upper body back down on the table. more spit soaks your notes and the wood of the table between them, making an obscene sliding noise each time he fucks you farther onto the table.
he braces one hand on your lower back, forcing an arch, and wraps the other around the gusset of your panties and pulls. you cry into the table, mascara running, hands bracing as he holds your hips up with the new leverage and fucks you mean like you deserve it, hard like he wants to tear you in half. his moans echo around the empty library, overwhelming your senses. your own punched out breaths join them each time he pushes you up the table and drags you back on him.
"gonna cum again, princess? i know you are, i can feel it, dirty fuckin' girl." his voice is pushing animalistic now and his precise technique devolves into something filthy and desperate. he's panting, groaning, cruel words falling from his lips like he hates you. maybe he does— if it means he'll fuck you like this, then he can think anything he wants about you, saying anything, do anything.
you cum again with a strangled moan that tears past your tonsils and it almost hurts. you see stars when he buries himself one more time, leaning over you and muttering something in your ear that you miss, you're fucked too dumb and stupid to care. he paints your walls white, lazy thrusts smearing it around inside you and where it leaks out around him, down onto his balls and your inner thighs. you don't even care that he just came inside you, you feel dirty, like a whore, and you fucking love it.
he pulls out and stands up straight to get a better view of his cum leaking out of your slutty cunt, uses a thumb to pull your hole open just a little, pinching your labia against your panties. you wince, but don't protest.
and he leaves you there, fucked out and ruined, but not before giving you a laughably chaste kiss on your cheek, a harsh smack against your ass, and a few parting words—
next time, maybe check if the door is actually locked.
❀🂭 ⛩ 🂭❀ ….. ❀🂭 ⛩ 🂭❀ ….. ❀🂭 ⛩ 🂭❀
tags: @bistrocatxx, @j3llyc4kes, @raveszn, @stargirlforthefics, @spacebabe02
credits /// mdni banner from omi-resources, heart border from enchantthings