Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tiredness was wearing you down, making the dark circles on your face more prominent and harder to conceal as the days went by.

Countless hours spent hunching over complex math and hard sciences, all nighters preparing mock tests, overseas colleges with their twenty steps applications and their dumb essays that were sucking the soul out of you. Senior year was no fun.

You felt sluggish and it didn’t help that you’d spent a good part of the afternoon tutoring Yuji for his English lit quiz, and that the boy was as receptive as a pretty rock sometimes, instead of catching up on some much needed rest that Megumi had stolen the night before, sneaking into your room and taking advantage of the fact that Nobara was a heavy sleeper to fuck you on your desk and then on the carpet.

He’d been pissed about some guy hitting on you and he’d been more rough than usual, and you’d had to wear sheer black tights and borrow Nobara’s thigh high socks to hide all the bruises, fingerprints and the awkward carpet burn on your knees from your teachers’ prying eyes, and Megumi had enjoyed that a lot, slapping your ass on your way to breakfast and reminding you how crazy he was for you, how pretty you were and how slutty you looked in those socks that hugged your thighs so nicely and made them so plush and soft looking.

Boarding schools were better, said your parents, befitting for their daughter. So much for the nice and proper, you thought.

You yawned, setting the heavy literature book in your locker and slamming it shut with a metallic screech that reverberated throughout the corridor. 

You thought you’d heard a voice whispering something behind your back, feeble and timid, and at first it didn't even register in your mind, too preoccupied with worry for Yuji’s quiz and for your next application deadline, until the person speaking cleared their throat and you whirled around with a slight gasp, startled by the sudden noise. You wondered why this guy was standing behind you, awkwardly shuffling on his feet, so flushed that he looked like he’d just ran a marathon, face half buried in the collar of his uniform, eyes downcast.

“Huh? Did you just say something?” you asked, eyes darting over the empty corridor and finding it eerily empty.

“I, uh, hi, we’re paired together for the art’s research project,” he mumbled, stubbornly fixating on his shoes instead of looking at you as he spoke, and something about that aggravated you quite a bit.

You’d almost forgotten about the project. You’d have to read all these articles and books about psychology, sociology and art on a randomly assigned topic in the span of three months and then do a presentation and a thesis on it. So, a waste of time that would be better spent preparing for the exam hell at the end of the school year. 

“We are?” you wondered out loud, raising a skeptical brow because you swore you’d never seen him before in your life. And with dark circles as black as his, you thought you would have remembered.

The guy wouldn’t meet your eyes, finding the grout in the pavement more interesting than you as he stammered a response.

“Oi, speak up. I don’t understand you,” and you were beginning to get very annoyed at him.

“I-I’m in your grade, we’ve had some classes together.”

You regarded him from head to toe, noting down the way he blushed from his cheeks to the tip of his ears, how his hands shook in his pockets and his eyes couldn’t help but dart from the floor to your thigh high socks.

“Okay? And?” you pressed, already over interacting with this freak. Nobara had planned a night out to the city for you two, and you couldn’t wait for him to be done so you could run back to your dorm and get ready. 

“We should get started on it soon,” he responded, finally looking up. He looked exhausted, even more than you felt, “and finish before midterm week so we have time to study.”

“Fine,” you drawled out, internally rolling your eyes when he didn’t make a move to get out of your way, still shifting his weight from one foot to the other and pointedly avoiding any eye contact, “Anything else? No? Okay, bye.” 

You rushed to the exit ignoring whatever he told you, leaving him standing there dumbfounded. 

His chest heaved with heavy breaths as he approached you.

He could’ve recognized your form anywhere. The shape of your hips, your ass in that uniform that you always rolled up to make the boys go crazy over you, the thigh high socks that squeezed your legs just right.

He took a big breath in to get the courage to talk to you, and also to get a whiff of your perfume. You always smelled so nice.

“Hi, uh, I’m your partner for the art project,” he said like he’d practiced in the mirror of his room for hours, staying up all night to fantasize about talking to you for the first time.

You hadn’t heard him at first, but when you did and you turned around, he swore he could’ve died on the spot and he'd be happy about it. You were so beautiful, kind, so gentle, one of the few in that disgusting school who’d never laid a finger on him or looked at him in contempt.

He ignored the voice in his head that whispered that you didn’t look at him at all because you didn’t see him.

“Oi, speak up, I don’t understand you,” and he scolded himself for stuttering and annoying you, trying his best to keep his heartbeat even and talk to you.

He had to restrain himself to keep his eyes trained on the cracks on the floor and not on your legs, and how your socks hugged them so nicely. He’d never want you to think of him as a creep.

You were truly heavenly.

He wondered how you could keep that mean, cruel boy around when you were an angel personified, a soul so pure that he couldn’t even look you in the eyes in fear that you’d see how he tainted you every night, fucking his fist and wishing it was you, imagining you on his bed, your pretty lips taking him all, his cum dripping out of your cunt.

His heart drummed away in his chest at the idea of finally spending some time with you.

This project was the best thing that could have ever happened to him.

-

“Who’s that?” a husky voice whispered next to you, startling you a bit. You thought Megumi would be sleeping, and instead he was hovering behind you, arm tightening around your waist and a scowl on his face already.

He’d sneaked into your room again, like he always seemed to do, and spent the night holding you. He could be a bit overbearing at times, and definitely had some work to do on his abandonment issues and jealousy, but he was quite sweet and madly in love with you, putting you on a pedestal and worshiping the ground you walked on.

He blended in well with your friends group, your mother adored him and his guardian was rich enough that your father liked him too. He was handsome like an idol and at the top of all his classes, one of the best in your grade, and made you look good and unattainable whenever he carried your books and walked you to class, all the girls envious that you had him, all the boys envious that they couldn’t have you.

Megumi was so good too, and always forgave you when he found out you’d let someone else kiss or touch you like he always said he should be the only one to. You just had to let him take control and fuck you harshly, mean words spilling out of his mouth until he’d cum inside you and start crying for you not to leave him too.

Overall, you could overlook his insecurities and be lenient with him.

“A guy from my History of Art class, we’re doing a project together,” you replied, turning your head to the side so you could kiss him on the cheek and placate him. You really didn’t feel like arguing first thing in the morning.

“And you’re looking at his Instagram because?”

“Because,” you huffed, “he texted me on here to talk about the project, and I was just curious.”

If you were to be honest, curiosity wasn’t the only reason why you were creeping on his feed, but if you told Megumi, he’d make this into a bigger deal than it needed to be, and you really didn’t feel like having a screaming match at this hour. 

A notification had distracted you from scrolling through TikTok as your boyfriend snored lightly behind you. 

“okkyuu_ liked your photo”

You didn’t think much of it at first, until you’d clicked on the pop-up and it led to a bikini picture that Nobara had shot for you and that had sparked a nasty argument with Megumi, whom you could only placate by posting a story of the two of you holding hands with a sappy caption and a cute lovey dovey song as background. He didn’t even suspect that you’d hidden it from every guy he was worried about, and he’d been content with reposting it on his own story and then gotten you mochi and a stuffed animal to apologize for being so jealous and possessive.  

The picture was a few months old and whoever accidentally double tapped it must have spent a while scrolling through your feed and digging through your posts. The like was gone by the time you looked for it, but out of boredom, maybe, and curiosity, you typed the username in the search bar, hoping he’d at least be cute, and squinting your eyes you recognized the boy from your art class. 

He had very few followers, none from your school, no personal information in his bio and a private account, but his face was clear in the tiny round icon at the top.

You hadn’t recognized him in the hall, but you could definitely place his name and his reputation.

Okkotsu Yuta. Poor, cursed Okkotsu Yuta.

You were probably one of the few people in the entire school who had never bullied him, but the videos of him getting beaten, slapped and humiliated in every possible way had reached you as well as anyone else, teachers and faculty included, that had never done anything concrete because, well, his bullies’ parents were all disgustingly rich and affluent and he was the charity case that made principal Gakuganji look generous. 

It didn’t help that he had that creepy look going on for him, and that no one would talk to him in fear of becoming tainted with his reputation and suffering the same fate.

“Who is he?” slurred Megumi, already half asleep, burying his face in your hair and inhaling the smell of your shampoo. You felt him hump your ass lightly, in a way that he said was not sexual at all, just very comforting to him.

He could be so cute sometimes. 

“Okkotsu Yuta.”

He snorted, chest trembling with the laugh he was trying to keep in, and you wondered if Megumi had ever laid a hand on him. He was so gentle and caring with you and the people he loved, but you knew the other side of him better than most, and you’d heard the rumors around him from the people who’d gone to middle school with him. 

His own step-sister had warned you with a tight lipped smile and concern in her eyes. “Megumi is nice,” she’d said, “until he isn’t.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled after calming down a bit, “I definitely don’t have to worry about that freak stealing you away then.”

-

“Were you jacking off to my pictures this morning?” 

Your question startled him, and you saw the way he shuddered in panic, eyes wide and mouth agape, until he saw you next to him on the bench, a questioning expression on your face. He calmed down then, tense shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit.

He looked like a wounded animal, ready to flee or- well, you supposed he wasn’t that big of a fighter if half the school had punched him and the other half had kicked him at least once.

“Wha-? What, no, no, I’d never, I- what are you talking about-”

“Then why were you looking at my old bikini pictures at six in the morning?” you interrupted him as he pathetically stumbled all over his words. 

Something told you that you’d have to be the one to give the presentation. He’d probably faint on stage, or someone would throw rocks at him or something, and your work would be ruined. 

“You know, Megumi-chan would not be happy if I told him. He’s very jealous of me, and when he’s jealous,” you sighed, shaking your head a bit, “he becomes mean.”

His eyes widened at the mention of your boyfriend, and you thought you saw a shiver go down his spine. 

“But don’t worry,” you announced, clapping your hands and throwing him a big toothy smile, “I did not tell him because I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

He looked like he was in enough deep shit as it was. And you needed to get on his good side if you wanted him to do all the work while you’d just show up in three months, put on a cute outfit and give a glorious presentation, collecting the praise and applause.

You had much better things to do than read all those boring books anyways.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, and you thought you saw the shadow of a smile on his lips, “aren’t you scared of being seen with me, though?” he asked, lowering his gaze to the notebook on the table, face burning with shame.

“Why would I?” you wondered, leaning your head over your hand, elbow on the table and crossed legs swung over the bench, skirt rising up to expose your legs.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes darted over the bruises on your inner thighs. 

“No one wants to be like me, I guess.”

“No shit, but nothing is gonna happen to me, or to you if I'm here. Relax.”

He nodded, still skittish, and pointed at his notebook with a shaky finger, “I went ahead and skimmed through the material we have, even watched a couple of documentaries,” and then you got lost, to be honest, as he droned on and on about performance art or whatever it was that you’d been assigned.

He’d compiled a list in his neat handwriting of all the main points your presentation should include, printed out an outline for the introductory part of the thesis and already drafted a brief summary of his ideas with citations to back up his claims.

All within twenty four hours of the assignment, and you still didn’t even know what the topic was.

“Wow, I’m so impressed with you, Okkotsu-san, you’re so smart,” you giggled, because you were impressed with his lack of anything else to do on the weekend for sure, but also because men were so easy, all of them, and you figured if you stroked his ego enough, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger at all and you’d get the highest score possible.

“Thank you,” he stuttered, blushing harder than you imagined possible without spontaneously combusting, “I hope it doesn’t seem like I want to monopolize the discussion. If you don’t agree with any of this, or you have better ideas, I can always change the outline to better suit you.”

You shook your head. “It’s perfect the way it is.”

Rhythm 0, Marina Abramović, Naples, Italy, 1974, a live performance where the artist herself sat down on a chair and let the public do whatever they wanted to her, no rules, to show how cruel human nature is. And the public proved her point just fine, cutting her, undressing her, even sexually assaulting her as she sat still, until the performance ended and she stood up, becoming a person again, and no one could even dare to look her in the eyes after torturing her so viciously.

You spent more than you’d intended to with him, hearing as he spoke so passionately about a topic that  you guessed he had more insight for than anyone else you knew. When he talked about the things he liked, Okkotsu lightened up, and even his haunted eyes seemed clearer. He didn’t stutter or stumble for words, and gestured animatedly with his hands.

Cute, you thought. He really was cute when he looked alive instead of like a walking corpse.

His eyes were a murky blue, slightly downturned and framed by dark circles. His hair looked soft and almost as spikey as your boyfriend’s, but that was about where the similarities ended.

Megumi’s features were sharper, carved in marble, whilst Okkotsu looked softer, certainly more melancholic. 

“Well, I really need to go, I have to tutor a friend, but good job on everything, send me the material on my email, okay?”

You thought he looked disappointed that you’d be leaving, and he hesitated before bidding you goodbye, “Can- I can walk you there, if you want,” he proposed, awkwardly pulling at his hands.

You internally rolled your eyes at him, because what the fuck was he thinking, that you’d be friends? You’d probably never look at him again after you were done with the project. But for the sake of a good grade with zero effort, you nodded, jumping on your feet and collecting your backpack.

He was silent as you led him to the classroom where you’d be meeting up with Yuji, and you were surprised when you opened the door and he wasn’t in there, already waiting for you as he usually was.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, and you spun around to see Megumi standing there and seemingly less than pleased.

“Megumi-chan,” you greeted him with a smile and a peck on the lips, “what are you doing here?”

“Yuji's busy. Are you disappointed to see me?,” grumbled your boyfriend, eyeing Okkotsu up and down with a gloomy scowl that surely intimidated him, because in no time he was stammering some excuse and running away.

As soon as he’d rounded the corner, Megumi grabbed your arm and pushed you in the empty classroom, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

“Really?” he exclaimed sarcastically, “I saw you two getting cozy outside, and now you're walking around with the creep like he’s your little boyfriend?”

You inhaled a deep breath, rolling your eyes and already feeling a headache starting to form behind your eyes. He had to be kidding. No fucking way he was getting so worked up over Okkotsu Yuta of all people.

“What the fuck are you talking about? We were working on the project and then he walked me here. And you said it yourself, you don’t have to worry about him.”

You were exhausted, and tired, and all you wanted was to go to bed and sleep until the next day, and instead you could already predict the mean words he was going to throw at you, the ache all over your body after he was done with you and his tears and broken apologies.

“Yeah, I thought I didn’t have to, but clearly you’re too much of a slut, even for that freak.”

At this point, you wanted to rip your hair out and scream.

“Don’t fucking call me a slut, you psycho, you’re doing all this and for what? Because I walked with someone. I walked, Megumi, I can’t even walk around anymore. You are crazy. I’m leaving,” you announced, throwing your hands up and whirling around to leave.

“You’re not going anywhere until I say so,” he growled in a final tone, “And I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone if you weren’t a whore who opens her legs up for anyone. How many times have you even cheated on me at this point? Because I lost count. Are you fucking Itadori too while you’re tutoring him, hm?”

You felt tears prick at your eyes, his loud booming voice cutting through you. You hated him when he was like that. 

“Answer me,” he snarled, grabbing you by the hem of your jacket and pulling you towards me.

You pushed yourself off, “Don’t fucking touch me. You’re sick. Sick in the fucking head. You know, just because your daddy left you and you’re still hung up on that, doesn’t mean you get to treat me like shit when you think I’m gonna leave you too. And if I ever cheated on you it’s because you’re a control freak and a fuckin-”

You saw the feral look of pure anger in his spirited eyes before he clutched your hair in his hand and slammed you against a desk, bending you over it as both your chest heaved.

“Don’t ever talk about him,” he was shuddering, eyes twitching, spit spilling from his mouth, and he truly looked like a demon. 

You didn’t fight him as he ripped your stockings and pushed your panties to the side, plunging a finger inside you with no preparation. It stung and you clung onto the sides of the table but kept your mouth shut, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing you in pain.

You heard him fumble with his belt and zipper, and you hoped he’d be over with this soon and he’d be back to sweet, gentle Megumi.

“Looks like you forgot who you belong to, so let me remind you,” he whispered in your ear as he thrust inside your hole with a single snap of his hips, bottoming out inside you with a strained moan, “Fuck, this pussy is so good, it’s all you’re good for, fucking whore.”

You held onto the table as he fucked you from behind, one hand around your throat and the other on your ass, crushing you under his weight as he shoved his cock in and out of you with no care for your pleasure or you.

It happened so often that you weren’t even ashamed anymore of the fact that despite his roughness and his mean words, your pussy still quivered around his dick every time he fucked you like this. 

He’d only ever bend you over when he was mad at you, preferring to look you in the eyes when he made love to you, but the angle he could hit in this position made your toes curl in your shoes as they squeaked against the floor, and your juices drip out of your entrance and run down your thighs.

The room was soon filled with Megumi’s grunts, your labor breaths, the desk that rattled under his thrusts and the slap of skin against skin.

“I can feel you squeeze my cock, love. Can’t even pretend you’re not a slut for this, can you? Dumb bitch,” he moaned against your ear, but by this point you were far too gone to care, and you'd started with your shameless lithany of ‘yes’ and ‘please’.

“Beg for it, and maybe I’ll make you cum.”

Heat pooled in your lower stomach, spreading from your pussy to your limbs in jolts of electricity. 

“Please, Megumi, please make me cum on your cock, fuck- you’re so big, please,” you begged, snapping your own hips to meet his thrusts.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he grunted, and you could feel him swell inside you, “tell me you belong to me.”

“I’m yours,” you mewled, “Only yours, please.”

“Fuck, you’re all mine, mine only. Take it, fucking take it like a good cumdump.”

He shoved a hand in between the desk and your hips, going straight for your swollen clit and swirling his fingers around it. The stimulation was enough to send you over the edge, squeezing his cock so tightly that he came inside you almost immediately after your own orgasm.

He filled you up with his cum, leaving you full, warm and hazy.

You stayed a few seconds, or maybe minutes, like that, catching your breath until he pulled out of you and pushed your panties over your pussy to avoid any mess. You heard him fumble with his pants and then your skirt before he stood straight and tugged you up against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed against your neck, and you felt his wet tears on your skin, “I was too rough, and I shouldn’t have said those things.”

You nodded, eyes shut as you enjoyed the waves of aftershock that still rippled through your body.

“I just- I’m so scared of losing you. Please, don’t leave me. Promise you won’t.”

You’d promised him thousands of times and he’d never listen to you, but you did it regardless, despite the fact that those words he was so eager to hear had lost their meaning to you a long time ago, “I promise, Megumi-chan, I’m never leaving you.”

He was back to his sweet self, comforting you in his arms and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He walked you back to your room, sneaking in your shower and fucking you against the cold tiles again.

“I love you,” he said, looking at you with adoration.

“I love you too,” you said back, and you wondered how true your confession could be in comparison to his. One thing was certain, you did love him in a way, or else you wouldn’t take him back every time his true colors came out.

-

You were so nice, truly much better than he, or anyone for that matter, deserved. Especially that sick brute that you called boyfriend. 

He’d seen the bruises on your thighs, the marks on your neck that you’d attempted to conceal with makeup, and he’d heard the screaming match and your broken cries behind the door.

He hoped one day you could see how much better he’d be for you if you have him a chance.

Chapter Text

Whoever said that jealousy was a green-eyed monster must have been well acquainted with Megumi and his bright green eyes in one of his past lives. 

You wondered why he felt the need to do the things that he knew would make him angry. He was well aware that other men’s attention on you pissed him off, and still riled himself up by reading through the love letters and confessions you’d found in your locker one by one. No one was stupid enough to sign himself because everyone knew of your boyfriend’s temper, but with the cloack of anonimity they’d all flooded you with adoration, and he hated that. You, on the other hand, enjoyed every single moment of it.

Valentine’s day was your favorite.

Your locker was overflowing with handwritten notes that reminded you how pretty and desired you were, and your unofficially but officially assigned desk in your first class of the day had been covered in roses, chocolates, candy, tiny stuffed animals and cards with pink and red hearts and chicken scratch declarations.

You sat on your bed, stuffing your mouth with the sweets, counting through the letters Megumi had received and that he’d wanted to throw away without opening. ‘I don’t care,’ he’d grumbled, ready to dispose of them, ‘I have you, I don’t need all this, and you shouldn’t either,’ he’d reminded you with a pointed look. You’d had to whine and beg for him to shove them in his backpack and take them up to your dorm instead, ‘just want to check out who’s after my pretty boy, ‘s all’. He’d blushed and nodded his head with a tiny upturn of his lips.

He really was cute sometimes.

It seemed like everyone knew how handsome he was except for him, but Megumi wasn’t like that, and didn’t care about those things. You cared, though, and although you didn’t concern yourself with the girls that frothed at the mouth around him because he only had eyes for you, you cared to get more love letters, chocolates and gifts than him.

The competition was all in your head but you had to have the upper hand, in a way. Dating a boy so good-looking was great for your image but you didn’t want anyone to whisper behind your back that they didn’t understand how he’d pick you of all people, and not someone prettier than you.

You popped another praline in your mouth, white chocolate and pink dust over it. The intense raspberry flavor burst in your mouth, and you almost moaned tasting it. Whoever had left these for you must have had good taste in food. 

“Why are they so desperate anyways, don’t they know you’re with me?” he groaned for the thousandth time, and you rolled your eyes, keeping count of his notes in your head as you unwrapped another praline.

“Well, you’re not exactly subtle about it, so they probably do and don’t give a shit.”

He huffed, resuming back to his reading as you counted and checked for any letter that bad-mouthed you.

You smiled triumphantly, stacking the cards neatly and placing them on your bed.

“All done,” you announced. 

He had way less than you. You had to text Nobara and brag about it to her. She’d sworn he’d get more this year, and she was as wrong as she was in the last.

“What was that project you were working on, again?” he questioned you suddenly, showing you a pastel pink note with a neat handwriting that you’d recognize anywhere.

“It’s an art project,” you shrugged.

Megumi hummed, “Seems like the freak has a crush.”

You chuckled at that, snatching the note from his hand and reading through it. He hadn’t signed himself, but he referenced your project and that was just dumb on his part, you thought. It wasn’t anything inappropriate or weird, nor was it disrespectful to you or your relationship in any way. It was just that Megumi was Megumi and you felt like Okkotsu should have known better.

The note just thanked you for being kind to him when other people weren’t. You almost smiled at the paper in your hands until you caught Megumi’s eyes.

“Not this again,” you groaned at his pissed off face, “Really? Last time wasn’t enough? You made me bleed,” you reminded him, bringing up something that you knew would make him feel guilty. It was just a few dots on your panties, really, but you'd use it to make him feel bad until your dying day.

He sputtered another apology then, “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with him lately, 's all.”

“It’s literally two hours a week, tops. And it’s just for the project.”

It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. While you did meet for a few hours only, you hadn’t really contributed anything concrete to the project other than reading the artist’s book because you’d thought she was really off the rails and you’d liked that a lot about her. You didn’t even need to see him, you could just text or email, but you did it anyway, not sure why.

He shrugged, and you thought it was the end of that.

It wasn’t.

The next time you’d stumbled upon Okkotsu in the empty halls, Megumi was holding him up by the collar and shoving him against the lockers with a thud.

You’d never witnessed your boyfriend’s aggressiveness on anyone but you, and although you liked the way his forearms bulged under his rolled up sleeve and the feral look in his eyes, you stepped in before he’d do some serious damage.

“You’re really going to do this here?” you whispered in his ear, holding onto his arm, “If a teacher walks out and sees, you’re going to be in deep trouble. They might not let you give your speech as the best student at graduation.”

Teachers didn’t care about the videos of Yuta getting slammed against a toilet or about his battered face after a long weekend, but they’d probably have to intervene if they caught him getting bullied with their own two eyes.

That seemed to do it, and Megumi lowered his fist and just gave Okkotsu a look that would have made you shiver. You didn’t know why he’d gotten so angry either, but you knew that you never wanted to be on the receiving end of his fury.

“Stay away from her, freak,” he spat before grabbing your hand and dragging you away.

-

Yuta had not stayed away from you at all.

You couldn’t decide if he was stupid or crazy, but either way you respected that at least a tiny bit.

-

You saved him.

Saved him from your boyfriend.

You were truly an angel from the heavens above.

You'd sacrificed yourself for him, and you'd probably had to pay for that.

He hoped he could one day be the one to save you.

-

You had thought there might have been some loose screws up in his brain just by the unease that radiated off of him. You didn’t intend to be mean or cruel, but something about everyone either despising him or avoiding him like the plague did raise some questions within you. You wondered why he acted as though he deserved what happened to him, why he never fought back and just hung his head and took whatever his bullies threw at him with meek acceptance and resignation. 

He got slapped, punched, kicked and shoved around and never hit back.

He got screamed at, spit on, insulted, publicly humiliated on video and never once defended himself. 

He wasn’t that much shorter or more frail than any of the boys that fucked with him either, so you just couldn’t wrap your head around it.

And maybe you were mean and cruel, but something in you screamed that he deserved it at least partly. He had to. Either he was crazy or everyone else was.

So yes, you had imagined he’d be a bit messed up in there, but you hadn’t imagined he’d be this unhinged. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you creep?”

The slap you landed on the side of his head reverberated through the empty walls of the classroom you were sitting in, and his face flew back from the sheer force of your anger.

You’d been working on your project, or, well, you pretended to do the work while he slaved away on his laptop, surrounded by his neat but content dense notes and borrowed books. You didn’t know how, or why, but one minute you were scrolling through your phone and the next he’d slammed his face against yours and fervently kissed your lips with his wet, cold ones.

Your first reaction had been to slap him away so hard he’d fallen off the chair and now he was kneeling at your feet, with the print of your hand on his cheek, eyes trained on the floor and looking so pathetic that you almost wanted to laugh at him.

“Are you fucking crazy? What the hell were you thinking about?”

He wouldn’t talk to you, nor gave you any indication that he’d heard you, so you did the only logical thing you thought would work and backhanded the other side of his face so he’d have two red matching prints on each side.

“Oi, talk to me.”

You were becoming increasingly irritated the more he stared at the floor in a catatonic state.

The kiss, in itself, wasn’t what angered you. Nor the fact that he’d grabbed your head and pecked your lips without asking you for permission, or more like begging for it.

No, the audacity to kiss you at all in the first place was what was aggravating you so much. Because why would a freak like him even have remotely thought that touching you, let alone kissing you, would have been acceptable? What part of his sick mind had looked at you, perfect little you with your immaculate reputation and popular friends, handsome boyfriend and good grades, and predicted it would be okay to lay a hand on you instead of looking from afar and wishing to have what he couldn’t?

You should have been unreachable, a far-fetched dream, a goddess to worship at the altar. Maybe you should have let Megumi beat him to a pulp, because the idea itself that he thought he could have you was insulting.

You rose from your chair with the burning rage of a thousand suns, and the screeching sound of it seemed to break him out of his trance when he flinched a little.

“Look at me,” you snarled, tugging at his hair to bring his face up from where it hung on his neck, “when I speak.”

You’d been expecting a look a pure hatred there, melancholy for your rejection or maybe terror. After all, you were one of the few people who’d never hit him, and you’d done just that.  What you hadn’t anticipated was for him to look at you with bleary heart eyes and parted lips, flushed bright red even under your handprints and slightly panting. Your eyebrows rose into your hairline, and for a moment you stilled, scanning him from head to toe.

He was kneeling in front of you and you noticed the way he attempted to rub his thighs together and- was that a bulge in his pants? Those uniforms never did the boys any favor in concealing their crazy hormones, you’d seen it with Megumi and Yuji a lot, but to get a boner after getting slapped?

That was unheard of in your book.

“I can’t believe you’re getting off on this,” you chuckled, and that seemed to get a reaction out of him when he lowered his gaze again and whined in distress, “Is this why you never fight back? You like getting slapped around like a bitch?”

He shook his head vehemently, and you let go of his hair, settling back down on your chair and crossing your legs, not missing the way his eyes snapped to your thighs, traveling up to your skirt to take a peak underneath it.

Truly sick. You almost laughed.

You just had to push it a little to see if he was the kind of crazy you could fuck with or the kind that was best left alone. You supposed that because the entire school was still alive after the relentless bullying, he would be safe to mess with. You had a lot to gain, and he had a lot to lose to, so this was a perfect situation for you.

“You’re a fucking pervert, truly disgusting. Look at you, on the floor, creaming your pants because I slapped you. Or maybe it’s the insults, what is it?”

He looked at you pleadingly, and spoke with a whiny tone that you’d be lying if you’d said didn’t excite you. “I’m sorry, so sorry, I just-”

“You’re gross.”

“I’m gross, I know, I’m sorry, I-”

“Sick.”

“Yes, I-”

“A creep. I bet you like it when the others punch you? Or maybe you like it better when they push you and kick you? Like getting shoved around too? You go back to your room and fist your little dick thinking of them?”

You couldn’t believe what was unfolding in front of your eyes. 

“No, no,” he shook his head, bending over and pushing his hands on his crotch, “I swear, no, just you, you-”

You crouched in front of him, and leveled your eyes to his, staring at him for a long moment before you smirked a bit despite yourself. How far could you take this?

You slapped him again, stronger than you thought possible, and you couldn’t deny the heat between your legs because if Okkotsu Yuta was sick, he must have been contagious, as you’d never felt this way before with anyone else. 

Your pussy throbbed at every distressed sound that came out of his mouth, and the high of having so much power over someone was scratching an itch in your brain that you’d never been aware of.

You usually let Megumi treat you like a rag doll, because Megumi liked things the way he did them and never how anyone else wanted them, and you didn't have it in you to fight him over every single thing. But this? This made you feel powerful.

He fell on the floor with a thud, trying to wiggle around and rise on his knees again, but you were quicker than him, slamming your foot down on his thigh and pinning him into place.

The lower he was on the ground, the higher you felt.

The more his eyes raked over your figure, the more you dripped onto your panties that he surely had a nice show of from where he laid.

“How sick are you, Okkotsu-san?” you questioned him, not really expecting him to answer.

You’d never done this before, but it almost came natural to you. You let your foot travel up his thigh slowly, enjoying his wheezing breaths, halting on his crotch, “Do you think it would hurt if I kicked you here, Okkotsu-san? Do you think you’d enjoy that too?”

You saw the way he let his tense head fall on the floor, the way his eyes were blown out and crazed. You weren’t cruel enough to kick him, not just for a kiss at least.

“Look at you, panting like a dog in heat. I thought we could be friends, you know? I thought you would be a nice guy, and I could feel safe with you,” you continued, letting your heavy mary janes rest on the outline of his boner, “Megumi is going to kill you if I tell him.”

He really would, your mind whispered. You wouldn’t put it past him to at least fuck him up, badly. And you needed Okkotsu alive for the project, so you reasoned that if you were to tell him, you’d do it after the deadline.

“No, no, please, I’m sorry, don’t tell him, please, he will hurt me bad, please, anything but that” he sobbed, almost choking on a moan when you applied more pressure to your foot, “I don’t know what I was thinking, I just-, I-”

The look of terror at the mention of Megumi made you feel invincible for some reason.

“I don’t care for your sorry excuses, Okkotsu-san, you need to make it up to me.”

You pressed your shoe down until he stopped whining and started mewling, writhing on the ground and bucking his hips slightly. 

“You’re so pathetic.”

He stilled with a broken wail, eyes wide and limbs limp on the floor.

You would have laughed if your pussy wasn’t hurting with need. 

You got off of him, noticing the dark patch on the front of his pants, “Gross,” you snickered, “good luck walking to your dorm with that.”

You started packing your bag quickly. You needed to find Megumi and take care of your urges before you did something you’d regret, like straddling Okkotsu’s hips and riding him until he passed out. You wondered if he was a virgin. He had to be. 

“How- how can I make it up to you?” he pleaded as he sat up, so sweaty and red faced that it would have been a revolting sight, if it weren’t for your growing arousal that you were pretty sure he would have smelled if he knew what an excited lady smelled like. Which, for many reasons, you doubted he did.

“Start with the project,” you decided, after pretending to think about it, “You don’t want me to be angry, but you really don’t want Megumi-chan after you, right?”

He shook his head vehemently, pure fear in his wide eyes, and then nodded, “I’ll do my best, I promise.”

“You better,” you sing-sang behind your back as you sauntered to the door, “see you ‘round.”

And off you went, looking for your boyfriend.

-

He was so ashamed of himself for violating you that he started crying as soon as you left the classroom. You’d looked so cute, eyebrows scrunched as you focused on your phone, and his body had acted before his brain could catch up, kissing you like he’d always wanted to.

He was disgusted in himself, realizing that he was no better than your boyfriend that forced himself on you when he was angry.

He hoped that if he finished your project on time and with the best grade, you’d forgive him for acting like a brute.

-

“I need you,” you moaned against his lips, fumbling with the buttons of his white shirt to touch him, feel his feverish skin against yours.

You’d caught him walking in the corridors and dragged him to a girls’ restroom, slamming the door behind you and locking it with shaky hands.

“I need you so bad, Megumi-chan, need to have you,” you mumbled again, grinding your hips on his thighs to relieve yourself of the pressure building in your core. 

He chuckled against your lips, sliding a hand under your skirt to cup your pussy, moaning when he found you thoroughly soaked from your encounter with Okkotsu.

You’d never imagined, not in a million years, that the resident freak could make you wetter than your boyfriend ever could despite his pretty face and perfect body.

You must have been sick in the head too, you figured.

“You really want me that bad, baby girl?”

His voice was down a few tones and it sent shivers down your spine, making your cunt clench down around nothing, wishing it’d be squeezing his cock instead.

“Yes, please, Megumin, fuck me, I need you inside me,” you whined, trying to keep the voice down to a minimum despite wanting to moan at the top of your lungs. 

The idea that someone could walk in and catch you excited you, but the detention with Professor Yaga and his creepy stuffed animals making activities was just not worth it.

“You love it, don’t you? You love getting stuffed with my cock and taking all of my cum, yes?”

You whined, rubbing yourself on his thigh faster, harder, doing anything to relieve the throb of your walls, “Please, I love it, love you.”

He didn’t need any further encouragement, and with a swift motion he undid the button and zipper of his uniform pants and slightly pushed his underwear down just enough to take his cock out and stroke himself.

You wanted to taste him, take him in your mouth until you couldn’t breathe anymore, but he didn’t let you, saying it was gross to put your mouth on anyone's genitals, and you respected it despite how much you wanted it.

You’d done it with others behind his back, of course, but it just wasn’t the same because despite everything, Megumi was Megumi and no one could ever come close.

He kicked the lid down and sat on the toilet, spreading his legs wide and patting his lap. You didn’t waste your breath asking him to fuck on your feet with your cheek against the door and you arms behind your back as he pounded into you from behind.

Megumi liked things a certain way and didn’t want them any other. He was a control freak in every aspect of his life, and you’d be lying if you said that being with someone like Yuta that let you take all the control wasn’t a nice change.

You straddled his lap and sunk down on his cock, so wet and aroused that you didn’t need much time to adjust before you were grinding down on him, rubbing your swollen clit over his coarse pubes. You could feel your high get closer, the thread that kept you whole become thinner and thinner, so you started bouncing up and down his length, ass jiggling each time you slammed down on his thighs. Your feet hurt, and your hips felt tight, but Megumi held your weight on him and helped you move.

He came before you, swallowing your moans with a kiss as he filled you up with his warm cum. You were full, and so hot down there, and when he brought his hand down between your sweaty bodies and started rubbing his fingers on your clit, the thread inside you snapped.

You stayed in his arms, leaking his cum and enjoying his affection until his legs were becoming numb and he gently lifted you off of himself.

You were spent after your orgasm, but not satisfied all the way.

You smiled at Megumi and kissed his lips, wondering if things would feel different if he let you be in charge. One thing you knew for certain was that someone else would, and you might just take advantage of that if your boyfriend didn't.