Chapter Text
He stands there silently, leaning against the wall, staring at me with that stupid trademark smirk plastered on his face.
I hate it.
I hate him.
I hate the power he oozes even when simply standing still in the far corner of the room. I hate how weak it makes me feel right now when I should be in control of the situation.
I hate how calm and unaffected he looks by everything – a stark contrast to me who’s burning with anger, struggling to hold back the tears. I hate how childish that makes me feel even though I have every damn right to feel the way I do.
I hate how he smiles at me, the corners of those dangerous lips tilted upwards in a fashion that could ease my mind, if it came from anyone else. I hate how every fucking smile of his does anything but ease my mind.
I hate the look in his eyes – those blindingly blue eyes that are always full of condescension and arrogance, that always look down on me with overbearing superiority, shamelessly and incessantly mocking me, even through his blindfold. I hate how a single such look of his can lower my self-esteem to unprecedented levels.
I hate everything about him.
But above all, I hate the fact that despite hating everything about him –
– I still want him.
Like the fucking psycho I am…
“Penny for your thoughts?”
His voice, playful as always, snaps me out of my thoughts and I look up to find him closer than mere moments ago, now standing only two meters away from me, hands in his pockets.
I hate when he does that, moving around without me noticing, constantly catching me off guard. It only adds to the list of things he does that make it hard for me to ever gain the upper hand.
“None of your goddamn business, Satoru.” I snap, turning around and heading for the door. Swinging it open, I point towards the hall outside. “I have a class in a while and I need to prepare.”
“So?” he stupidly asks.
“So get the fuck out.” I don’t bother with niceties, nor do I spare him another look. I keep my mouth shut and my back turned to him while showing him the way out. He doesn’t deserve anything more from me.
He doesn’t deserve me.
And I deserve better.
“Jeez, so dramatic…” I hear him sigh in faux annoyance and my grip on the door handle tightens. I’m itching to snap at him for not taking me seriously and although I wish I could act like the bigger person, I can’t help snorting at his shamelessness.
I hear his feet shuffling against the floor, inching closer and closer with each second. Against my own will, I get nervous. What will he do now? Though I hope so, I know he won’t just leave like I asked. And any other scenario I can imagine playing out just can’t possibly work in my favor.
My palm around the handle starts getting sweaty and the moment I gulp down a sudden knot in my throat, his footsteps stop. I feel him leaning over me, his mouth hovering over my ear, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Everything he does is deliberate, with the sole purpose of drawing a reaction from me.
I won’t hurt my pride further by letting him succeed.
“Oi.” he calls, rudely as hell, but I never expected any manners from a man who gives zero fucks about other people’s feelings.
If I ever had any such expectations, shame on me.
Taking a deep breath, I turn around to face him, only to come face-to-face with his torso. He’s close – too close – and I hate the heat spreading across my body at the proximity. His scent infiltrates my senses, suffocating me, almost rendering me helpless, but a glimpse at the belittling smirk on his face refuels my anger enough to speak up without seeming affected by him.
“Don’t make me repeat myself cause you’re truly not worth wasting my breath. Leave, Satoru. Now.” Still holding the door open, I point outside once again while maintaining eye contact despite his blindfold getting in the way. He keeps smiling at me, a smile that I can’t read but know means no good, and I feel the need to take a step backwards.
I never get to.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand flying and before I get to react, he grabs my jaw, angling my head upwards with force. My neck cracks at the movement, pain spreading across the spot. I bite the inside of my cheek, unwilling to show any sign of weakness.
When I look up at his frustratingly flawless face, I see his brows move slightly behind his blindfold, and on cue, his smirk gets wider to the point where his perfect white teeth show.
“How much more pathetic can you get?”
That’s what every grin of his means, including this one.
It’s his way of letting me know that I’m no match for him, that I can’t hide anything from his Six Eyes, and that it doesn’t matter if I try to hide the pain as long as I do hurt.
And he always makes sure I do.
If Gojo Satoru had a hobby, it would be inflicting any kind of pain on others. It shows in the way he takes his sweet time exorcising curses, always making a spectacle of it when he barely has to lift a finger, or the way he’ll laugh at fellow sorcerers, always patronizing them without caring to offer any actual help if they need it. Behind every action or word of his lies his twisted need to upset and hurt others.
It’s sick, disturbing and insufferable.
So why do I–
“I’ll leave.” He suddenly stops my train of thought with a smile. I can hear the lie in his voice, loud and clear, and I feel the need to laugh. Does he really expect me to believe him? How stupid does he think I am to lie in my face like that? These questions pop in my head but I don’t even think of voicing them. I already know the answer.
He doesn’t give a fuck.
Still, I don’t want to give the impression that I’m buying his bullshit.
“I sense a ‘but’.” I spit the words out with disgust but also with difficulty because of his strong hold on my jaw. His long fingers dig into the sides of my face, making it hard to speak, and his palm that was already pressing on my throat when he grabbed me now presses harder. Tears burn the back of my eyes as I start heaving. Fuck, I hate this.
“Shhh, hush, little girl…” He purrs, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on my forehead. “You shouldn’t waste your breath, now, should you?” He flips my previous words around, his lips brushing against my skin, and I flinch at the contact.
Despite my wish to appear unaffected by his chokehold on me, my trembling hand on the door slides down to my side as my whole body tries to focus on finding a way to breathe, and Gojo wastes no time kicking it close with his foot. The bang of the door slamming close echoes in my ringing ears for what seems like an eternity, giving me a headache.
I’m losing it and an unwelcome feeling of helplessness creeps in my heart.
How could I ever overpower him?
“You know, Y/N, only a year and a half ago, you’d call me ‘sensei’ and bow at me with some respect, even though your eyes would burn with spite. Graduating and becoming a teacher has really gotten into your head, hasn’t it? Have you forgotten that I’m still a senpai to you?” he complains, clicking his tongue in disapproval.
“D-do you even know what respect is to demand it?” I retort but it doesn’t come out nearly as confident or angry as I want. Gojo laughs wholeheartedly, head falling back and all, and I try to take the opportunity to break free from his hold.
Of course, I fail.
Once he quiets down, he looks back down at me, leaning in until our foreheads touch and I can look nowhere else but his covered eyes.
“Ah, Y/N…” He starts moving us backwards, almost making me stumble as my short legs struggle to keep up with his long ones. “Do keep contradicting me.” He stops when my back hits the door and I’m effectively trapped between the wood and his towering figure. “It’s always done things to me.” He adds the last part with a whisper, and as the last word rolls off his tongue, his lips slowly brush over my gaping ones.
I can’t stand it.
I can’t stand his warm breath on my sweating face.
I can’t stand his large hand on my small neck.
I can’t stand his strong body pressed against my weak one.
I can’t stand his soft lips rubbing against mine in a way so sweet, it makes my heart race with fear.
And I can’t stand that the sick side of me is secretly enjoying all of this.
With all my strength, I place my hands on his chest and push, hoping. He doesn’t budge, but he does lean backwards a bit to look at me, his vice-like hold on me loosening just a little. I don’t question why he did that and just grab the chance to take a much-needed breath.
“Y-you said you’d leave.” I hate myself for stuttering, even if it’s physically inevitable at this point.
“Ah yes!” he replies cheerfully as if I just reminded him of his birthday or something.
“Do it.” I demand, feeling slightly better now that some oxygen has returned to my brain.
“I will, I will.” Gojo waves his free hand around indifferently with an eye-roll before looking at me again, tempting lips forming into a mischievous grin. “On one condition.”
“Name it.” I don’t waste a second to think it through. Gojo lifts a surprised eyebrow, not expecting me to agree so fast. I bet the asshole thinks I’m incapable of meeting any of his stupid demands.
Will he ever stop fucking patronizing me?
“Anything?” He presses, curiosity but also excitement in his voice. Everything is just a fucking game to him.
“You think I can’t do it?” I retort confidently. “How far up your ass is that head of yours?” A faint smirk finds its way to my lips. He’s already too cocky for his own good, and I refuse to boost his ego any further. It’s about time he fucking learned a lesson.
“Oozing confidence, aren’t you?” He smirks back approvingly. “Perhaps a little too much?” Gojo cocks his head to the side, undoubtedly thinking he can intimidate me like that. I’m getting too tired and angry for that.
“Call it whatever you want. You’re not the only one who doesn’t give a fuck.” I slap his hand away and this time, Gojo actually releases his grip on my neck. My hand almost rushes to rub my throat but I stubbornly keep it to my side. However, I can’t stop my mouth from automatically – and annoyingly loudly – gulping down air as a reflex to fully regaining my breath. I know it can’t be helped since I haven’t been able to breathe properly for a while now, but I hate looking so pathetic, all heaving and gasping. It spoils my effort to stand tall before him, giving him more reason to doubt me than his overbearing ego already does.
It’s so annoying.
Finally clearing my throat, I straighten my back against the door and fold my hands across my chest in determination. In turn, Gojo raises his hand to push his blindfold upwards, his aquamarine eyes peeking from underneath. I won’t admit it nor show it, but his move takes me by surprise a little. Staring into those eyes is something no one can ever really get used to. Plus, I know this can only be interpreted only one way. Despite that goofy ass smirk, he’s getting serious and, honestly, it’s sending shivers down my spine.
But, as he stands there, staring at me like a fucking creep, my hatred is refueled, and I glare back. No, I’m not backing down even if doing so makes me an idiot.
The widening grin on his face lets me know he likes that.
Not that I care.
“Very well. Hmm....” He starts licking his bottom lip slowly while looking at me with narrowed eyes as if he’s thinking about it. I don’t fall for his dramatics. I know he already has something in mind.
After a few wasted moments of him pretending to contemplate his condition, he’s smiling again but there’s something dark in his expression. I know he’s enjoying all this, but that’s not just it. There’s something more in it. Something that has to do with his condition.
It's nerve-wracking.
I lift my chin in defiance, hating the ominous wait. “So? What the fuck do you want?” I basically bark and he chuckles.
“Such a dirty mouth!” he remarks, satisfaction in his voice. “Seeing you’re so eager to meet my demands, I’ll tell you.” He says it as if he’s doing me a favor and for the billionth time since I met him, I wish I was strong enough to at least land a good hit on him that would actually do some damage.
Life is such an unfair bitch.
“I…” he begins, covering the distance between us until he’s towering over me again.
“…want…” He places his hands next to the sides of my head, caging me.
“…to…” He leans in again, invading my breathing space, ocean eyes boring holes into mine.
“…fuck you.”
I freeze, eyes widening, and he smirks.
Gojo never treated me appropriately, not even as my teacher, much less as a colleague. Apart from the emotional abuse he’d practice on me by constantly making a joke of me and my skills in Jujutsu, he’d never hesitate to cross the line physically, sometimes even in the presence of others. Whether it was a wandering hand, a forceful kiss, or a painful grip, he’d always find a way to get too close.
I always hated it.
I hated how he’d do it so casually as if he was fucking entitled to my body. And things like ‘you don’t own me’ could never even come close to moving such an insensitive and heartless jerk.
I could never make it stop.
Even if I put my pride aside and called for help, no one would do a thing. A few who noticed his tendency to get touchy with me never uttered a single word because really, who would ever dare to go against the strongest? Gojo knew that and would damn well exploit it to the fullest.
I hated it.
And I hated that after a point, a part of me started enjoying it.
I would always fight back. Always. But with that man having you pinned against the wall of the classroom or the floor of the training room, unable to make a single move, all while whispering vile things in your ear – it was something so wrong, so filthy and so sick, something I had never experienced before, something I hated with all my might.
It appealed to me.
When my punches would eventually cease, I’d find myself clinging onto him instead, wanting him to feed that dark, forbidden desire in me.
But even lost in my need to realize my wanton fantasies with him, I still had enough reason to draw a line.
He may have stolen my first kiss, but I would never let a man like him rob me of any other firsts.
Especially that first.
“No.” I simply say.
“Uh, uh, uh!” He waves a finger in front of my face. “You said you’d do it. Don’t you know it’s dishonorable to go against one’s word? What would your students think?” He flashes me with a wolfish grin, not even bothering to hide the fun he’s having. I press my lips in a fine line and narrow my eyes into slits. “In fact, let’s ask them!” He reaches for the door handle and I see red.
“The fuck!?” I rush to block his access to the handle with my body, my fists simultaneously landing on his chest as I push him away. “What the fuck, Satoru, you think this is funny?” I yell, angry beyond reason. “How dare you even joke about dragging my students to your sick games!?”
“Joke? I wasn’t joking.” He looks at me with a blank expression and I know he means it. The bastard would actually do it.
“You, sick son of a bitch.” I push him again, taking quick steps forward. Gojo walks backwards along with me without any objection and with only a small smile on his face. I ignore it, too furious to care.
“Who the hell do you think you are, uh? What makes you entitled to such assholery? You think you can always just get away with everything just because you’re “the strongest” or whatever?” I wave my fingers around in air quotation marks. “News flash, Satoru, you can’t. You can’t talk about my students as if they’re just pawns to your stupid games and face no consequences.” I push on his broad chest again and with one last step, his back is on the wall opposite to the one he had me pinned on, and I’m glaring daggers up at him as he smiles down at me. “And you can’t talk about fucking me as if I’m some whore you picked off the street.” I grit my teeth, feeling my blood boiling under my skin. “Unlike you, I know what respect is and I show it not only to those deserving of it but also myself.” I stand on my toes, bringing my face as close to his as possible. A voice in my head tells me it’s too risky to willingly get so close to this man, but I’ve had enough of such cowardly thoughts. “So excuse me for being unwilling to sit here and take whatever shit you throw at me. I value my dignity more than the stupid promise I made to the world’s biggest asshole.”
Honestly, when I say I’ll do something, I do it. I am a woman of my word and I never go against it. But his condition is offensive and ridiculous at the very least, and no sense of morality can make me accept the horny whim of an intolerable jerk.
Even if my fucking body is willing.
With a final glare, I turn around, heading for the door. “This is where I draw the line. See yourself out. I have a clas–ugh!”
I yelp when a familiar hand grabs me by the nape and drags me backwards. In a blink, Gojo twists me around and knocks me on the wall, pressing me into the hard surface from behind with his body.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I grunt as I try to push myself off the wall, but he grabs my hands and pins them above my head, incapacitating me. His hand on my nape slides to the front, grabbing my jaw and forcing my head backwards to meet his eyes.
“You sure know how to run your mouth, don’t you, Y/N? All that rambling about games and consequences and respect. It really…” His gaze darts to my lips. “It really makes me want to shove my cock down your throat to shut you up.”
I feel my face getting hotter at the vulgarity of his words, but I master up all my will, determined to fight him and his effect on me till the end. “As if I’d ever let you do that or anything else to my body.” My voice drips with venom. I will not consent to this. My body can get as hot and bothered as it wants, he can touch me and seduce me all he wants, but I will not spread my legs for him nor have them forced open. “You’ll have t-”
“Rape you?” He cuts me off, pressing me further into the wall, crashing my chest and ribs, making me wince. “Sure thing! Because you see,” he starts, lowering his head and tracing the outer shell of my ear with his lips. “I wasn’t asking for permission.” He bites my earlobe and I hate the shivers it sends down my spine. “So feel free to kick and scream and shout – in fact, please do! – because the outcome will be just. the. same.” He punctuates every last word for dramatic effect before planting a tender kiss on the side of my head.
“Fuck you.” I wriggle in his arms, trying to get away despite feeling my strength retreating.
“Is that an offer? But I thought you were “drawing a line” or something?” He grins and I let out a cry of frustration, pissed beyond any chance of appeasement.
“I am. You don’t always get things your way, Satoru. Aren’t you too old to still think so childishly?” I try to turn my body around to at least be able to face him head-on. For some reason, Gojo gives me the space to do so, but he makes sure to never fully let go of my hands, making it impossible for me to escape.
“Heh, and this is what you think you’re doing here? Teaching me a lesson?” He leans in, his voice seductively low. “If so, don’t you think you’re doing a poor job at it?”
“I’m–!”
“If anyone walks through that door right now,” he nods at the door behind, “do you think they’d read this situation as you teaching me a lesson?” He brings his free hand up to comb his fingers through my fringe. “What a dreamer you are.” he muses, twirling his finger around a strand of hair.
“Satoru…” I whisper angrily, curling my hands into fists. I feel my eyes watering and honestly, at this point, I don’t even know if they’re tears of anger or pain. My head hurts and my body is out of its freaking mind for getting even a little bit aroused by all this. I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle, I want to push him away but at the same time, all that touching of his makes my knees go weak. It’s all too fucked-up and I can’t keep up.
“Hmm? Any last words?” He jokes, but it’s anything but funny because really, if this man fucks me, I’m dead.
Momentarily, I’m reminded of all the sick fantasies I’ve had about him vandalizing me to his heart’s content.
They do say “Be careful what you wish for”.
Gojo lets go of my hands and my arms fall to my sides, sore from being forcefully raised all this while. He notices that I’m not making any effort to push him away, and flashes me with a sinister smile, all the while stroking my short hair gently. His eyes follow the smooth movements of his hand, and for a split moment, I wish he wasn’t the most toxic man on earth and that this wasn’t the most messed-up situation of my life.
“You need a haircut by the way.” Gojo comments suddenly while sliding his free hand up my body until it rests at the base of my neck, the other now cupping my cheek. “I do like this length though.” He flashes me a sadistic smile. “It gives me something to grab on.” He traces his fingers towards the back of my head and, as if to remind me that I have yet to win this battle, he clenches his fist in my hair, pulling at the roots with unnecessarily too much force. I grunt, my hands reflexively grabbing on his zip-up jacket. My eyes flutter in pain and before I can stop it, a tear rolls down my cheek.
His ocean eyes avert to mine and he stares at me intently as I glower at him through watery eyes, trying to calm my heavy breathing. As he wipes my tear with his thumb, I see a fire burning in his eyes, dark and raging, and uneasiness creeps in my heart.
This – his desire for me – will burn me.
The thought does things to my body, heat pooling down below, but I just don’t fucking know how to fight it. Resignation seems too damn appealing now, and as my tongue darts out to lick my dry lips, my hold on his jacket tightens to keep my weak knees from buckling.
“Asshole.” I cuss at him under my breath, angry at the dead-end ahead of me that I can no longer ignore.
“Do you get it now, Y/N?” He whispers with an expression so dark, he’s not even smirking anymore. “It’s not you who can teach me a lesson. It’s the other way around, no matter what nonsense that pretty mouth of yours likes to utter.” He pins his eyes on my lips, leering at them like the perv he is, and making me want to rub my legs together like the perv I am.
For fuck’s sake, I’m practically asking for it.
Fuck.
“Now,” He smiles again, dipping his head in until I can feel his breath on my face. “Be a good girl and open up for me.”
He’s not asking me. He’s ordering me.
And an order that goes unfollowed has consequences.
Whatever.
If I can’t get rid of him, the least I can do is make this as difficult for him as it gets.
I glare at him through my tears, mouth sealed shut, and lift a defying eyebrow. Gojo huffs and smirks, biting one side of his bottom lip as if to contain his laughter. My eyes dart to his sexy mouth and I feel my cheeks blushing.
Damn him and damn me.
“You know,” he starts, pulling on my hair again until my skull tingles. “I haven’t quite discerned whether you keep provoking me because you’re a feisty one,” he takes hold of my chin and digs his fingertips into my skin to pull my jaw down, “or because you like paying the price for it.” He brings his thumb forward to trace my bottom lip.
“How about you go ponder the answer in hell and leave me the fuck alone?” I force the words out of my mouth, glad for the fight I still have in me. “My students are waitin–”
“Are you seriously thinking about your students right now?”
“Why? Are you jealous?” I quirk an eyebrow in an unserious manner but Gojo’s smirk flutters in annoyance.
“Yes, I am.” He shamelessly admits and I want to tell him that he has no fucking right to feel so, but he tightens his grip, pulling my face closer. “Now, open your mouth for me, sweetheart, we don’t have all day. We both have classes to teach.”
I snort inwardly. As if he gives a crap about classes.
Gojo patiently waits for me to obey him and I wonder if he truly thinks I will. But as I look into his expectant eyes, I realize it doesn’t matter. It’s true that I can’t overpower him no matter how hard I try to. But that’s not the only way to put this man to his place.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?
Let’s put this to the test.
As his thumb roughly brushes across my bottom lip and heads for the upper one as if to coax my mouth open, my tongue pushes forward to lick across the length of his finger before I wrap my lips around it to suck on it. As expected, Gojo’s eyes widen, obviously taken aback by my bold move.
I smirk.
I’m here, teary eyes and head aching from his grip on my hair, and yet I’m smirking in satisfaction for catching this man off-guard.
Hell, I might as well be just as sick as he is.
But the small sense of victory I feel doesn’t last long. Before I can think my next move through, Gojo regains his composure.
Pulling his thumb out of my mouth and grabbing me by the neck again, he mutters a barely audible ‘fucking hell’ and smashes his lips with mine. His tongue forces my mouth open, thrusting in and out too hastily for me to follow. It’s such a messy kiss, forceful and rough, and with both his holds on my neck and hair tightening, I feel my reason and sense of reality slipping further and further away.
My plans to win this fight against Gojo Satoru seem all too implausible as getting away from him becomes my only goal at the moment. I push at him, hitting his shoulders and pulling at his clothes desperately but it’s all in vain as he remains unaffected by all, too engrossed in sucking my mouth dry.
I hate this.
I hate him.
His eyes, his mouth, his hands, his entire body, his roughness, his coldness, his sadistic smiles, his obsessive, possessive behavior towards me, his desire to consume me whole, to break me –
– I hate it all.
I hate it all for turning me on when all I should feel towards this man is sheer repulse and hatred.
And yet at this moment, as tears roll down my cheeks and saliva drips from our joined lips, as his hand in my hair drops down my body to slap and grab my ass so tightly that his handprint will remain there for weeks –
– I feel alive.
In this twisted, asphyxiating relationship, I feel a sense of fucked-up bliss.
Fuck…