#virgin!nerdjo

“spin! the! bottle! spin! the! bottle!” people chant, making a girl giggle and spin the bottle. it landed on you. 

and… some dude you didn't quite recognize.

you probably have a class together—his face is familiar, and you certainly could notice those eyes. strikingly blue, matching perfectly with that white hair. was he albino or just extremely pale? did he even go out into the sun?

“oooh? those two? yeah, i bet they ain't doin’ shit inside.” someone comments, earning a laugh from their peers. you just stand, and the man follows with a blush on his cheeks, down to his neck. 

“tch.” you roll your eyes. did they even know you? you could be wild! you could kiss a stranger… if you really wanted! they don't know you at all! (or so you try to convince yourself, at least).

you walked into the crowded space first, making space. the white-haired man followed, but he apparently was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he hadn't realized he stepped on you until you complained.

“ow! watch your step!” you chastised him, trying to create some distance between the two of you. unfortunately, however, it was impossible. you two were nearly chest-to-chest, forcing you to face the fact that he was at least a head (maybe even two) taller than you. 

“s-sorry, jus’... ‘m trying to find a spot where i’m not, like, stepping on you, or, like…” he trailed off, slightly fidgeting in place. his thick, square glasses framed his face and glinted in the dark, reflecting the sliver of light that came in through the small crack of the door.

“is this okay? you good?” he asked. you just replied with a non-committal mmh-hmm, “cool. coolcoolcool.” a beat passed. the music pulsed outside, making the closet walls shake slightly. 

“i’m satoru, by the way.” for some reason, he found the need to introduce himself. “satoru gojo.” like i’ll ever interact with you after this, you thought. but, following the social code, you introduced yourself. because after all, it's not his fault that you're in this predicament. besides, you wanted this. you wanted to be wild and unpredictable, do things out of your ordinary. Perhaps even get some action! 

“so, uh… seven minutes in heaven, huh?” he laughed, clearly uncomfortable. you dropped your hands from your chest, tilting your head back to look at him. or whatever’s visible of him, anyway. 

perhaps it's the watered down alcohol or the four years of involuntary celibacy, but he is attractive. was it the hair that covered his face, or his awkward, self-conscious and uncharismatic demeanor, you couldn't tell. 

“yeah, seven minutes in heaven.” you forced yourself to entertain the conversation. not like you had anything else to do, anyway. that is the whole point of the game. your eyes wander—his pretty eyes, illuminated only by the sliver of warm light that spill into the closet, the glasses… and then his lips. 

“i, uhm…” he started again, “didn't… didn't know people actually played this, y’know. i thought it was, like, a thing made up for, like, teenage movies.” that little confession had you laugh. small, breathy, more of a huff than anything, but a laugh nevertheless. “this, uhm, isn't really my vibe, y’know? t-the crowds and the, uh, loud music… they're fine, sometimes, b-but… yeah, i needed to mentally prepare for it. suguru dragged me here.” he kept rambling on and on, and you nodded along, making sure to say “mmhm” and “aah, yeah”s when it seemed appropriate. 

“yeah, no, this… isn't my scene, either.” you found yourself admitting, licking your lips. your eyes locked on his, then darted down to his lips. they seemed a bit red—like he's been biting on them anxiously.

“yeah, and it's especially… hard bein’ here. like, locked. in a closet. with a p-pretty girl…” he trailed off, and his words made you raise both eyebrows. pretty girl, huh? oh, he's doing wonderful things to your ego–even if your low self-esteem doesn't seem to trust the compliment.

“pretty girl?” you found yourself asking, a small smile on your face. like you didn't believe him. part of you doesn't. 

“y-yeah, i mean. objectively. you're objectively pretty. from an objective and purely scientific point of view. and, uh… yeah.” you hummed.

“ah, silly me. didn't know you quantify beauty.” you commented, smirking a little bit. he's awkward. he's attractive. he's complimenting you. 

“wha—? n-no, i mean, like, i don't mean to be, like, a weirdo—” he was babbling.

“too late. you're already a weirdo.” you locked eyes with him once more, challenging him to keep panicking. only when he notices the teasing in your tone does he relax.

“oh, you're joking.” you huff a laugh. “thought i screwed everything up.” 

you shake your head, “not yet.” you concede, “not yet.” 

satoru’s shoulders relax, and his eyes flicker for a second, taking in your face. then lingered right on your lips for a second longer than necessary before looking away, almost like he was embarrassed. his entire face flushed. “is it getting hot in here? or is it just me?” he commented, more under his breath than directly at you.

“mm-mm. i feel fresh. maybe it's just you.” oh, but you were getting close. your body warmth seeps into his body. 

“oh. you're close.” satoru’s shoulders tensed once more, jaw clenched and body sprung like he might bolt at a moment’s notice. “it's not, like, bad. but, uh… yeah. it's nice, actually.” he paused. physically and verbally. “wait, no, that's… weird. is that weird for me to say?” 

“i mean, we're playing a game that consist of getting close. and i think we've already established you being a weirdo.” 

“oh, right. rightright.” your hand brush his arm. it was light, and he stammered. “your hand’s, like, touching my arm.” 

“i know. it's on purpose. does it bother you?” you cock an eyebrow, questioning.

“no.” he admits way too fast, making you giggle. Giggle. Like a dumbass. Like a schoolgirl. Jesus. “do you wanna…? like, after all it is seven minutes in heaven.” satoru offered, swallowing thickly and looking away, like the peeling stickers stuck there were the most interesting thing in the world. “w-we don't have to—” he cut himself off.

“the rules kind of imply—” you started, trying to rationalize the fact that you were actually considering kissing a stranger solely because he was just there, attractive, and you were low-key desperate. 

“yeah, yeah, i-i know, but like…” satoru clicked his tongue. “but i’ve never kissed anyone. like, ever.” 

This time, it was you who paused. were you a good person to be someone's first kiss? it's not like you're getting any real practice on the regular, and you barely remember how to initiate a kiss. 

“damn, that's kinda pathetic.” you just said, making him furrow his brows. you got closer, hands on his chest. 

“oh my god, your hands are on my chest.” satoru babbled on, stuttering excuses and narrating anything and everything you were doing. “you're close. oh my fuck your lips are—my heart’s, like, g-goin’ insane—am i dying?!”

“christ, just shut up.” you ordered, one of your hands resting right above his heart, and the other behind his neck, fingers tangling in his hair to bring him to you. he was as stiff as a rock, however, and wouldn't budge until you pulled on his hair, making him whimper. 

oh, right. okay. cool. super cool. you made a grown man, six-foot-something whimper and that made you wet. chill. yeah, totally normal. normal behavior for a thursday night. or, well, technically friday given that it's two in the morning. but it doesn't count.

“y-yeah, fair.” he murmured, meeting you halfway. his breathing hitched and you could feel his lips trembling, ghosting over yours. you could feel your hand, the one over his chest, trembling. your lips finally brushed against his and your eyes fluttered closed before you decided to just… go for it.

it was sweet… kind of. just lips locked onto one another for the stiffest kiss you've ever received. you initiated the movement, your chest pressing against his, hand gripping the strands of hair at the nape of his neck and the other one on the collar of that too-big t-shirt with a digimon design. you didn't know shit about digimon. 

“a-ah, sorry.” he pulled back like he suddenly gained consciousness of what he's doing. “that was… holy shit, that went… your lips are soft.” he mumbled, and you think he was talking more to himself or the air than to you specifically. “can i…? again? please?”

part of you wanted to respond with “and what if i say no?”; but only the bratty part of you. the part of you that you think know would scare him away right now, given that he looks like a deer in headlights. instead, you just hummed and nodded. “yeah. you can.”

was it a good idea? based on how his eyes lit up, you knew it was. his hands on your waist, pulling you in until you felt low-key claustrophobic, told you it was a good idea. how he kissed you, now? nothing short of desperate—the kind of kiss reserved only for a third date, at least. 

his tongue against yours, you biting his lip when he threatened to pull away, his big hand squeezing your ass and the soft sounds that just kept rolling out of your lips. too afraid to be loud in fear that someone would know, but too overwhelmed to actually just keep quiet. 

then he sucked your tongue and your brain flat-lined. brain dead. a fatality over your self-control. whoever says that sex is better than making out is flat-out wrong. 

you moaned. actually moaned against his lips, and the way your body jerked just wasn't natural. “ah, fuck. don't do that.” you whispered against him.

“you liked it.” he mumbled against your lips, slurring his words like he was dazed. one of your hands travelled south, touching the front of his pants. he was already half hard from just a bit of kissing? damn.

not like you were in any position to judge, though. 

“oh my god, your hand’s, like—” he stuttered, looking down to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. you just hummed in response a tiny “mhm”, and dipped your head to kiss his neck, making him moan in turn. “fuck. don't… do that.”

“you liked it.” you retaliated, biting him. marking him, just for the sake of it. part of you knew it was just… a thing you liked to do, mark the person you're with. another part of you knew it was just to show off the fact that, no, you weren't not doing anything. you actually did something.

“s-shut up.” satoru was made a puddle, reduced to nothing with the way your fingers kept brushing and touching him right over the solid hard-on and the way you kept kissing him. it wasn't enough, he knew that. but god he is so close. 

“mmmh… nah.” your giggle shivers down his spine. his entire skin got goosebumps and his face was entirely flushed. 

but all good things must come to an end. someone knocked at the door. “guys! time’s up!” and you huffed in frustration. satoru sighed in both annoyance and relief—at least he isn't about to come in his pants, but damn. this is evil. 

“are y’all decent? don't flash us!” someone teased, laughing. you smoothed down your shirt and lightly fixed your hair. 

“yeah, yeah. we're decent.” you responded, voice somewhat breathy despite the forced nonchalance, pushing the door open. 

“speak for yourself!” satoru hissed, pulling his shirt down to hide his erection, but his red face betrayed him. you could only smile, looking down at the floor.

perhaps coming to this party wasn't a bad idea.