#bully x reader

You were sprawled across the sofa in the living room. He came barging in and demanding that you spend some time with him. And after much needed discipline (that's what he convinced himself) he has you folded in half on your bed. Sometime between your making out, he moved you to your room and plopped you on the bed

And now you're here an hour later, with him still rutting in you. Your unwilling walls clamp down on his dick, wetness gushing and pooling around you. At this point you don't even remember how many times the orgasm was forced out of you. By his fingers, with his mouth his dick etc etc he was taking his sweet time thrusting in and out of your, making you feel every single drag of his cock against your walls. It was torturous

Your vision is blurry by your tears that won't stop no matter how much you try. Well being raped doesn't put you in a laughing mood either.

The thing about this whole situation was, he was being so...gentle. His voice was soft and he never talked harshly with you. But even after that you're sure you didn't ask for this.

"Oh wow baby..." Chuckle "look at how your cute cunny is swallowing my dick up...." He reached down to thumb your clit, making you thrash even more. You could feel the dreaded coil forming in your gut. You gripped his shoulders and bit his biceps trying to fight back in every way you can. How cute he thought

There's no way you'd get out of this.

He adjusted your legs on his forearms, your hips elevated slightly above the mattress. This was the perfect angle. His started thrusting again and this time, he wasn't taking his sweet time. His thrusts were strong and his stroked were long. You were screaming, crying and choking all at the same time. You were so overstimulated that it hurted. There was some soreness in your thighs

He looks down at where you guys are connected and groans at the fat of your glistening pussy lips being stretched around his cock, a white ring formed on his base

He looked up at your face to see you're completely out of it. With your eyes rolled back and your fists clenched in the sheets

He loved seeing you like this. All ruined because of him and only him. Your body went taut and the familiar, unwanted feeling of coil being snapped makes your body violently shake. He upped the speed of his thumb on your clit and grinded his hips deep in you, fucking you through the orgasm

All that could leave your lips were whines and cries of "too much!!" "Please no more!!"

He cooed at your expression of unwanted pleasure. He never halted his ministrations and continued fucking you. You were thrashing, trying to get on your hands and knees to crawl away from him but ofc, he won't let that happen. He tuts at you as if you were an disobedient child and places a hand on you abdomen, halting your movements

His thrusts grew erratic while your walls were clenching around him, effectively milking him. Your bouncing tits, crying face, your cunt was the reason that his balls tighten up, flooding and stuffing your cunt with his hot, warm cum. He fucked himself through his orgasm, making sure not even a single drop goes to waste

you chant over and over again, "yours, yours, yours," the words are slurred and you're panting heavily.

tsukishima grunts and wraps his arm around your soft middle, pulling you up from the position. now your back in pressed against his chest, your pudgy thighs shaking as you kneel on the bed as tsukishima thrusts up into you. you know it's only a matter of time before your knees give way and you fall but that won't happen when tsukishima is gripping onto you tightly and will support your weight and keep you where he wants you when you feel like you're too shaky to support yourself and slump down.

his pace loses all rhythm and he holds onto your love handles tightly, squeezing the soft skin in between his slender fingers as he gets closer. "that's a good girl, all mine," he groans and kisses your shoulder gently. the cold touch of his glasses on your shoulder makes you shiver.

your eyes are unfocused and blurry with how much you've been crying, your tears feel hot running down your face and you feel more and more sweaty. you want to cum so bad that it's making you cry. "p-please tsukki, need t' cum-," your words cut off with a loud moan. "need it so bad kei," you whine and tsukishima kisses you again, this time less gently and leaving a hickey in his wake.

"yeah, yeah, i'll make you cum, you're such a fucking crybaby," he grunts against your skin, and moves his hand that was on your hips to your clit. "good thing i like you so much," he moans as he feels your pussy spasm around his dick.

you shoot up in your bed, the light is just starting to peak through your curtain and you feel clammy. you've been having more and more dreams about tsukishima and it occurs nearly every night now. most of the time they're sexual but not always, sometimes it's just fantasies like of him helping you study and whispering in your ear.

this is the first time it's ever been this explicit though, when you do have sex dreams about tsukishima they're not very vivid, and they're a bit fuzzy but this time it was clear and felt so real.

you don't know when or how that attraction towards him started, you don't know when you stopped seeing him as your bully and someone who terrorises you into something else, something different, something that gives you butterflies. it changed somewhere along the line, you recognise that it isn't healthy to think like that but you know that you still do even if it's wrong. he walks you home and makes sure you have enough money to get the bus, he relents when you ask him not to do something to someone and he kisses you chastely and kindly when you least expected. calling him kei just sounds right and now when he calls you crybaby it sounds fond.

you glance at the clock on your bedside table and groan, you don't have to be up for a couple hours but you know you won't be able to go back to sleep so you begrudgingly get out of bed and put the kettle on, scrolling on your phone.

in a few hours you know you'll be seeing tsukishima and you're absolutely dreading it.

when you get to the lecture hall you look down and continue looking down. you make your way to your regular seat in front of tsukishima but don't make eye contact with anyone. you don't even glance to see if tsukishima is here yet. he is.

when he sees you he frowns. it's not because he got here before you or that the clothes you're wearing covers up the bruise on your thigh that he gave you last week, it's because you're not looking at him and it's obviously on purpose. you don't do that anymore. you know better than that. tsukishima rests his head on hand and doesn't take his eyes of you. the whole class he doesn't stop looking at you and you feel his stare but don't do anything. he doesn't do anything other than that, just staring at you.

when it's ended you leave quicker than you ever had, you made sure not to unpack anything like your books or water bottle, it saves time of having to pack them up and for a hopefully successful quick getaway before tsukishima gets to you.

you're successful in your getaway and tsukishima crosses his arms and frowns, however he finds you quickly, sitting down on one of the benches outside in the area you normally sit at, it's the same bench you sit when you eat. you didn't know that he knew that.

"what the fuck is up with you today?" tsukishima asks you harshly, you jump at his voice. he found you so quickly. he makes his way in front of the bench and towers over you.

"there's nothin-"

tsukishima cuts you off, "don't give me that." even though you're looking down you can tell he's annoyed, his voice making it obvious.

you look up at him so you can tell him again that everything is fine, you know he won't let it go, he never does, and you know that he will be even worse if you don't look at him. even when you look at him you don't make eye contact, instead looking at the pattern of his faint light freckles on his arms that are currently crossed.

"look at me properly." he demands you and you do- automatically. you hate that you did that, you hate that your bully can tell you to do something and you listen and do what he says immediately.

tsukishima takes in your facial expression and his eyebrows furrow. "why do you look so ashamed?"

"ashamed? i-i'm not ashamed." you stutter and even you know that that's the most ashamed you ever sounded.

tsukishima rolls his eyes. "tell me the truth."

a shiver runs along your back at his tone. "i''m telling the truth."

"don't lie to me again." his words are so final you have to press your lips together in an attempt to not cry and make sure your lip doesn't wobble.

you know he won't let this go.

you're only option is to say a half truth.

"i just had a dream." not just but it was a dream. you should of said nightmare but you didn't think that as the words came out your mouth, you knew that wasn't a nightmare and it would be a lie.

"what dream?" he replies and you look down again. "don't do that." you stop in your tracks at slowly look back up. "don't make me make you."

"it-it was a dream about someone."

"so what?" he doesn't understand why you were so reluctant or ashamed. it's probably be some dream of someone being mean to her or something.

you heave a sigh of relief at him dropping it but everything he was thinking changes after that action. he started to feel that this dream was something more.

he grabs hold of your chubby checks the very next second, squeezing them between his fingers, you're getting deja vu. "tell me who it was about." his voice is harsh and your mouth feels dry.

you know you have no option now. even when he's holding your squished cheeks he's able to hear you utter, "you."

his grip from your cheeks loosen. "about?" at your silence his grip gets tighter again, "tell me."

telling him will be more than embarrassing. you know that. you know you'll have to tell him, tsukishima, your bully tsukishima, what it was really about.

your checks are smooshed and your face feels sore from him holding you this tightly for this long. "we were in the bedroom."

it's deadly silent. you see him looking at you, there's no frown on his face or furrowed eyebrows, there's no smirk or smug expression either. he looses his entire grip of your cheeks, he's still holding you but with no force or strength, you could move your head away from him but you don't, still staying where you were.

tsukishima's voice is low but still firm and clear as he asks, "was it good?"

yes.

your eyes are wide and you stop breathing. he waits. you nod your head. "yeah..."

tsukishima takes a deep breath. "you're real idiotic you know that princess?" you flinch at his hurtful words and your lip starts to wobble, you feel the tears that start to fill up your waterline. "you're right to be ashamed." your tears start flowing quickly, dripping down your face and down your neck. he stares at you as you cry.

"have you forgotten what i told you or are you so stupid that you ignored what i said? instead of listening you choose to be a filthy whore and have fantasises. how pathetic." he tells you and it hurts deeply, "answer me."

you don't know how to answer because you don't know if there's anything for you to answer. even though you're still crying and your breathing is still irregular you blubber, "i don't know tsukki! i'm sorry-," you sniffle, "so sorry, i didn't mean to."

he doesn't feel any guilt. "good." you cry more and more. "tell me again how sorry you are for being stupid."

"s-sorry tsukki," you hiccup.

"tell me how sorry you are for saying no," tsukishima demands you.

for the first time in awhile you look up at him, making eye contact. your eyes are red and glassy and he's getting hard just looking at you.

you unconsciously reach out to touch him, your hands weakly clutching his arm. "i don't understand tsukki."

his eyes roll but he softens his voice slightly, "i told you to come back to me when you wanted me. you said no, that was fine, but then instead of you telling me that you changed your mind and that you want me, that you want me to touch you, you didn't say anything and you have a sex dream instead."

your crying comes to a halt. "that's why you're mad?" you cautiously ask quietly.

"why else would i be? i'm not mad either i'm disappointed in you, there's a difference."

your hold on tsukishima's arm becomes tighter, more sure. "i-i'm sorry."

tsukishima leans down to tenderly wipe the remaining tears on your face that are slowly becoming dry, "good girl."

"i'm sorry." you repeat and tsukishima kisses your head.

"can- can i stay at yours tonight?" you ask him quietly and nervous that he'd say no.

he snickers under his breath and then smirks. "you should of asked me that months ago princess." he sits down on the bench next to you and pulls you a bit towarrds him so your thighs are pressed together. "did you take notes for the last class?"

you shake your head, voicing that you don't need them right now, "nnhuh" you mumble and rub your eyes. "kind of tired." crying that much always makes you tired.

"how do you expect to pass like that?" he snaps.

"you'll help me, you said you would before." you reply tiredly.

a smirk creeps on tsukishima's face, his voice lacking any bite that it had, "if you're too stupid and you can't even think for yourself that much that you need my help that bad then just say so."

You attend the same private academy he does. He tried not to care too much at first; you were just among the few others lucky enough to have the kind of intelligence eyed by his father's company. But that was the thing—you didn't. You were ordinary.

He wondered if his father made a mistake, choosing to sponsor some no-use nobody. Maybe you were a coal in the rough yet to be a diamond. But weeks into the first year of senior high and you showed no signs of blooming. Hell, you even placed at the bottom list in academic standing. You didn't fail; everyone else were just children of the wealthy who afforded private tutors. Maybe an appropriate scholar would have caught up just fine, but you weren't one.

yandere!bully who decides to approach you, frustrated with your mediocrity. Who is he kidding? He doesn't give two shits if his father made a mistake, he was fascinated with your mediocrity. Greatness no longer intrigues him, having been surrounded with it all his life.

Wow, is this a joke? You really aren't good at anything. Not at math, science, Latin, nada. You just do enough to get by.

He speaks to you about it, about that mediocrity. You interpret it as a threat. You can't lose this scholarship now, you just got it. You beg for his mercy that you may continue studying in this prestigious academy. The whole "I'll do anything!" "anything?" conversation ensues. Now he's got you in the palm of his hand.

yandere!bully who starts it small. Makes you his little errand puppy. To him you were like a little dog running around doing what he makes you do. It can't even be called bullying, everyone else interprets it as acts of gratitude for his father granted the scholarship to you.

But then it escalates. Soon he's making you do things that you hesitate to do. Sneaking into faculty to take a picture of the test answer sheet. Smuggling a bag of "stuff" in school (you aren't dumb, you know what these rich kids got their hands on). Forcing you to skip a day of school so you can be his little errand pup while he did golf, playing truant with his friends.

One time you're asked to kneel before him, right between his knees. You ask why. He tells you not to question him. He only wants to see you that way. He watches you for a moment, unfazed, before telling you to stand back up.

Enter his friends, and things turn for the worse. It's like they've been itching their whole lives to get their hands on a human being to torment. They've got their butlers and maids but they're paid workers; you aren't. Clearly, yandere!bully is dangling this scholarship thing above your head like a golden apple. It's enough to keep you in your place, make you go against your own survival instinct to retaliate against a threat. They can do things to you and not suffer the consequences, and they intend to take full advantage of it.

It starts small, too, this torment by his inner circle, but soon it evolves more than just carrying their shopping bags or retrieving the tennis ball whenever they go play.

Soon they laugh when one of them extends a foot to trip you. They steal the math homework you worked hard on even though they've already completed theirs courtesy of their private tutors. Pour water over your head, pinch your skin for fun with their filed, polished nails.

They heard him call you "errand puppy" once, so they had a collar custom-made with his name on it next to the phrase property of, its buckle 18k gold, leather lined on the edge with lab-grown diamonds. Then they made you drink milk like a mutt out of the cafeteria's metal tray.

The boys cornered you in the locker room once, made you pull down your bottoms. You were crying while they took pictures of your underwear, wet snotty face too. They shared it to the girls and it circulated within their friend group for a while. The next time that those specific guys encountered you, though, they seemed to hold back from picking on you. No one ever made a comment about that incident, not about the photos, the crying, the cheap underwear, and they grew quieter when yandere!bully entered the room.

With his friends it's always physically violent; never with him. You would argue, though, that he is the cruelest. Because he's got the power to make them stop and he chooses not to. He just watches. You gather that he likes watching you a lot.

yandere!bully plays soccer; he's a varsity player of your academy. Every after training you're tasked to carry his school and sports bag back to his luxury sedan which he drives to and from campus. Tonight he makes you stand in front of the goal net. His friends are lined up some meters before you, having gathered all the soccer balls the academy owns.

You're nervous. You know what's about to happen and you should run, but you don't, because you think the scholarship is worth all this.

"Don't let them score and I'll extend your scholarship to college," is all the warning you get.

You're hit everywhere. The arms, shoulders legs, torso—everything hurts. One ball after the other to your head, and you feel dizzy. Of course, you try defending yourself; you yell at them to stop, that it hurts, and all you get is: "don't you want that scholarship?"

What made you cease is the blow to your chest. It's a strong hit, delivering a pain so hot you think it shifted your ribs, and you cough and wheeze and they're still throwing balls at you until your form is thrashing on the grass like fish on land.

Your head feels so hot and prickly from the lack of air, you're sure it's bound to explode. Black spots your vision and you literally can't breathe but all you can think of is: did I get that scholarship?

You're hospitalized that night. Bandages on all limbs, tapes to hold the cuts produced from the skin being hit too hard. Nasal cannula around your face.

You wake up slowly. There's a mildly comforting heat on your bandaged hand that vanishes the moment you open your eyes. yandere!bully is seated by your bed, watching you as always.

His hand touches your face. He murmurs something, but it's muffled by the bandages wrapped around your head, ears included. Then his thumb tenderly brushes over your busted lip.

Finally, he leaves the room, and you're left to stare at the ceiling.

Upon discharge, you don't hear anything about dues from the hospital—a big relief for you. No warnings from the academy either for having missed a week of school. You speculate he's got something to do with it for the sake of reputation. No one is supposed to know that the son of the chairman of such a conglomerate beat its scholar to death's door.

School is different after the incident. You're no longer abused as much by his peers, although you still do their various errands. He still makes you do naughty stuff, like skipping classes when he feels like it. Only this time it seems only he's around to do errands for.

These errands are different now, too. It's not the typical labor-heavy tasks like before, fetching for his tennis ball or carrying his bags. You're more like an actual pet puppy at this point; he just brings you around wherever he goes. Almost like he has to keep an eye on you at all times.

yandere!bully who finds himself missing you during the summer. Everyone left for their own respective vacations, out of the country to Maldives or Monaco or Switzerland or whatever. You're back with your relatives in that quaint little downtown neighborhood of yours. He would know, having hired private investigators to stalk your ass. He is going with his family to the countryside estate.

Father, mother, eldest sister, older brother. He's the youngest. It's a quiet family. Sister grew up just to be like father, cold and austere. It seems he's on the way to becoming just like that, too. Only brother inherited mother's benevolence.

Father doesn't care about anyone and anything but mother. yandere!bully only ever talks to Father whenever it's necessary. Otherwise, both of them are content minding one's own business.

yandere!bully asks Father about you. As he suspected, Father makes no mistake. He says you were really meant for the scholarship.

"I had a feeling," Father says, "that you two would make very good friends."

yandere!bully who's touchier now, second and final year of senior high. Or he's become touchy, since he never was back then. He drags you by your wrist at short distances, a palm on your nape whenever he tells you to look at something. A hand on your lower back, sliding dangerously low every time before letting go. He also often fixes your collar, fingers always ending up brushing your neck.

He tells you to strip one time at some high-end clothing store. You stare at him, dumbfounded, before he gives some silly excuse that it's for a cousin with your same build.

He makes you try on different outfits. At first it's various tops and bottoms that complement your shape, colors that go well with your skin tone, all the like. You glance at yourself in the mirror and wonder if this is how you look born into that top 1%. You look nice.

Then he makes you strip back to your underwear, and lets you try on the white [dress/blazer]. There's a moment of silence before he tells you to come over to him, and he stands up, towering over you with his gifted height.

He looks down at you, seemingly lost in thought, like he's visualizing you in a certain light...

"Do you like it?" He asks.

You tell him that you think his cousin will. His expression is undisturbed, but he exhales almost like a huff. Quite suddenly he grabs you by the waist, thumb gliding circles.

"I asked if you like it."

You stutter out a pathetic 'yes.' Honestly you don't give a damn but you fear his negative reaction your comment. Although if you had to, you'd say it's a bit too fancy for your liking.

He only hums before letting you go. You proceed to wear the next attire.

You shiver to think about how he views this certain cousin of his, having you wear a bunch of skimpy outfits. Some that showed your stomach too much, others exposing your legs. One top you're pretty sure can rival a tape going around your chest area, covering only what needs to be covered. He stays aloof the whole time, jaded eyes planted on you.

After that, things start to get kind of disgusting.

The touchiness escalates tenfold, and he isn't as insecure about it as you are, showing off to his friends. It's like the roles have switched: now he's the physical one instead of them. You're still a slave to their torment, of course, but only he gets to touch you like this. His friends don't find anything odd about it, in fact they look as if they enjoy your discomfort. They egg him on.

yandere!bully who brings you with him to a speakeasy, exclusive only for students of this certain private members club. The top one percent of the top one percent, they would say. It's like a den of iniquities, these kids doing all sorts of nefarious stuff: drugs, dealings, gambling, and most dreadful of all: whores.

Man or woman, they aren't obvious. You only know because they're distinguishable from the rich clients of the club who dress minimalistic. You suppose a more professional term for these people are escorts. They're conversing animatedly with their young clients, some linking their arms with them, a few already making their way to private rooms.

yandere!bully sits on the loveseat across his peer who's got two escorts in his arms. You only stand behind him, listening in on their conversation. Something about stocks and real estate. Networking. If he knew this, what he thinks about that.

You drone their voices out. The smell of weed is getting to you, making you feel all woozy.

yandere!bully tells you to sit on his lap. Dumbed down by the smoke, you comply a little too easily, like the puppy you are. His peer whistles lowly, eyeing you with a predatory glint.

He doesn't do anything about it because he knows they all can only afford to look. The truth is you belong to him, and only he gets to touch you this way, his hand now shamelessly gliding down your rear while you stay pliant. As long as you're after that scholarship, you belong to him.

He shifts you on his lap, his mouth feeling dry as he feels you press against him. You're really just asking for it, aren't you?

yandere!bully: he finds you in the library, when everyone else is in the school gym for graduation practice. This serves as your only safe haven from him, from his friends, from this whole aquarium filled with predatory fish. Oftentimes it feels like you're the only herbivore out there. The library happens to be the oldest part of this castle-turned-campus, which means: no CCTVs.

You scream when he pins you against the table, cut off halfway when he slams a palm on your mouth. The other hand encases both your wrists in one secure grip as his leg forces your knees apart, and he starts grinding against you like a dog in heat.

His eyes are half-lidded as he's watching you with his mouth parted, a sick grin forming. He thinks it's hot when you cry, if he knew this before he would have done better to get you to cry more often.

"Dumb puppy," he sneers, "dumb little errand pup, you're no good for anything at all, aren't you? Only at following your master and fetching balls."

Your panic discourages you from registering all the painful words he's saying, the names he's calling you. You try your best to escape his coil that only seems to get tighter the more you move like a boa constrictor. Arousal seems to give him inhumane strength.

Having had enough, he lifts you up momentarily, before slamming your back against the table, hard.

"Stop fucking moving, you stupid mutt!"

That does indeed get you to stop fucking moving. You even stop trying to scream, and stop... breathing? He pauses his ministrations and looks down at you. You're staring back at him, eyes wide, lips trembling. Then you start convulsing for air.

He doesn't know what to do, and for the first time in his life of luxury and wealth he's genuinely terrified. He's always seen you suffering, but this time, this time you're suffering and he can't put a stop to it. He can't control it.

You're grasping the sleeves of his uniform, still spasming. He gets the hint and aids you in sitting back upright on the table. He already has half the mind to pull out his phone and call emergency, but you're already breathing fine, trying to catch your breath.

Your hand moves to deeply rub the center of your chest.

Shit.

Was this... was this the soccer injury? Haven't you already recovered from that? The doctors said you'd heal eventually. The cuts, the deep bruises. Did you turn out to have an unattended rib fracture? Is this... chronic?

It's been almost a year since that incident.

Have you always had this pain, and kept it to yourself?

He's never felt this level of trepidation consume him, shaking him to the core. His heart is in his stomach as he looks at you, really looks at you, and sees the damaged he's done. You're tired. You're scared. You're miserable.

You are readmitted to the the same high-end hospital not long after. This time you're scheduled for surgery. He covers all the expenses, makes sure to get the best of the best of surgeons out there. You don't really have a say in the matter, you're not dumb enough to refuse such an offer just for the sake of your dignity. What left of it is there, anyway?

Father visits him during that period, noting the considerable dent in his son's bank account for that big of a purchase. He meets Father shortly after freshening up, having vomited at the thought of your broken countenance.

yandere!bully tells him everything except the attempted assault. Father only sits and listens, unnervingly silent, like he understands. It's the first time he's ever opened up to his dad. To his surprise, Father does not disappoint.

Likewise, Father also tells him everything. How, in this family, there is the tendency for some members to manifest passionate emotions in various ways. They feel so little they end up feeling so much for very specific things... sometimes persons. And they tend to be violent with it.

You were meant to be the recipient of this violence. Your father owed his father a great deal of debt, and so you were basically sold off, your purpose for him hidden under the ruse of scholarship. Not that you knew.

It all makes sense now, Father's devotion to Mother, and her aversion from him. His sister's fierce attachment to this one specific guy who also just so happens to be a scholar of the company. His feelings for you which he can't seem to make amends with.

"Once you find that someone," Father says, "you sink your claws into them and never let go, even when they bleed."

You're back to school in two weeks. Like back then, you didn't receive any disciplinary actions for your absence. You try not to wonder how you manage to keep your place as a scholar in this prestigious academy despite all the missed assignments on top of your already mediocre grades.

yandere!bully avoids you like the plague, and so do his friends. It seems everything went back to how it once was, how it was supposed to be. Everyone here ostracizes you for your socio-economic standing but it doesn't bother you at all, not when you prefer this over the active bullying.

The next time he interacts with you, it's already graduation. You're wearing the appropriate formal attire under your graduation robes, which you can guess is the cheapest out of everything in this venue where the school-sponsored grad party is being held. There's an afterparty held at some penthouse bar after this, hosted by one of yandere!bully's friends, but you aren't invited.

You exit the venue to begin the 20-minute walk back to your dorm, but someone stops you.

His hand is on your wrist. You get unpleasant flashbacks, but you keep it to yourself. He asks how you're doing, you say you're just fine.

He then asks if you want to celebrate this milestone.

No, you don't. Not with him. But you're not about to lose your diploma when you just got it.

So now you are in his Porsche and he's driving you both to one of his many family estates. It's smaller than most, he describes.

According to him at least. The whole thing is the size of your entire neighborhood. It's a long driveway before he even gets to arrive at the actual building. He parks right in front of the manor.

Inside, you're invited to have dinner with him. It's only the two of you in this large dining hall, where you're seated adjacent to him at the end of the grand table. But the selection of food nearly reaches down to half the long table, as if he had the chef cook every food that could possibly be your favorite.

Still, you end up eating light. He offers you to choose the brand of wine but you refuse, saying that it hasn't been long enough since your operation. A pause, before he nods, instead picking the wine himself.

Instead of alcohol you're served apple juice. It's freshly squeezed, you could tell by the bitter aftertaste.

Glass in hand, he leads you out of the manor and to the rose garden, where you can see the stars so clearly due to the lack of light pollution thanks to the vastness of his estate. There's a small pavilion housing a large couch. He leads you toward it, makes you sit.

You feel yourself deflate instantly on the cushion, exhausted from having your guard up around him at all times. If he noticed he didn't comment a thing about it. He's on his third glass and you're currently nursing the first glass of apple juice you're nearly finished with, when he calls out your name.

"Congratulations."

You congratulate him, too, since he also graduated.

He downs the rest of his wine in one go, sets it on the side table. Then he steps closer to you, fueled with liquid courage, sinking into the space next to you.

You try to sit up and scoot over. You can't.

"I was afraid for a moment," he starts, "that you wouldn't accept my invitation."

Afraid? He put you through hell, and only now has the gall to hesitate on you? A pit begins to form on your stomach.

He turns to you, taking your glass out of your hand and setting it down the ground, before holding that same hand with his own warmer one. He inches closer. You can't move.

You ask, "Would you have forced me to come anyway?"

He smiles at that. "You wouldn't have said no."

He's now hovering over you on the couch, same standoffish eyes tracing your face, your eyes, nose, settling on your mouth. You see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

He has so much to say to you. You look so pretty right now, basked in the moonlight, not fighting him. He's sorry for all the rough treatment, for hurting you and making you cry. He swears it's just his feelings for you manifested in the wrong manner. But now he knows, after his father explained everything it all makes sense. He's just in love with you.

yandere!bully kisses your trembling lips, tenderly. You try to fight it off but it's no use; you realized too late that he's done something to your drink. You're sobbing when he parts from you, terror and anger evident in your eyes. When he begins to pull off your clothes, he speaks.

"I would never do anything to hurt you." Your stomach churns in resentment. "Never again."

He kisses the column of your neck down to your chest, your surgical scars, where his lips stay longer. When he feels you're sort of hyperventilating, he rises and cups your cheek.

"Breathe. Breathe," he says your name. "Okay? Relax. I've got you. I promise I'll take care of you. You just have to breathe."

He rubs your chest. His own aches just at the thought of your distress. It's his fault you ended up like this, so he intends to make up for it for the rest of your lives.

He makes love to you that night. As promised, he did take care of you. It doesn't hurt when he slides it in, having poured a generous amount of lube all you feel is the pressure instead of the sting of his very well-endowed member intruding you. He's got a way with his hands, too, stimulating all the right parts just enough to get you unfolding beneath him within an hour. He would have done it within minutes but he took his sweet time just to get you so wet and ready for him.

He's so damn gentle with you like he was your lover for the last two years and not your bully. Of course, to you this wasn't 'making love.' For the most part you were delirious both from the drink and his expert ministrations, and are only hit with the the graveness of your reality when he finally spills his essence into you. His body quivers, and right then he pulls you for a deep, tongue-heavy kiss. When he pulls away, he mutters something in his frenzy: "I love you."

yandere!bully doesn't bother you after that. When he wakes up on that couch in the pavilion you're already gone. You left in a rush. A butler drove you off back outside of the estate, having received no orders to make you stay.

You've graduated. Your credentials will surely spark competition among universities for you, being a graduate from one of the most prestigious academies in the world. Still, you ask yourself if it was all worth it.

You aren't the same after those two years. You feel as if you've lost all purpose in life after that night. Like something valuable was stolen from you, and could never be returned. You don't want to keep going.

But reality will always dictate what you do. You can't afford to be like this because you're poor. Mental health doesn't exist to the poor, your father would insist. You've got bills to pay, mouths to feed. And you may be mediocre, but you're not dumb enough to seek justice against someone as powerful as your bully. You don't even have the money for that.

So you went on despite grievances to the next stage of your life: college. Countless scholarships from different sponsors. The same conglomerate that covered your senior high scholarship is offering you another full ride—living arrangements and all—to the country's number one university.

You refuse the offer this time. A thousand scholarships from that conglomerate isn't enough to repair the damage that's been done. Besides, you never want to encounter anything associated with him ever again.

Instead you accept to be sponsored by a different company; a smaller one (at least in comparison), but they covered your tuition of four years in the same prestigious university. Sure, no living arrangements, but that's more than what most sponsors give.

You enter the CEO's office, having been invited so she can get to know you more. There are two individuals in the room. She, and...

Your heart drops to your stomach.

The CEO introduces him to you, although there is no need for that. He's standing there in a tux, hair slicked back, jaded eyes glinting with mirth at the sight of you. It seems he's grown taller in the few months you haven't seen each other.

Apparently his dad's conglomerate is the parent company. How could you be so stupid?

Madame CEO excuses herself to take an important call, leaving you alone with him. He doesn't hesitate to walk closer, smiling as fondly as his austere face can manage.

"I missed you." He speaks, voice full of yearning. He takes your hand in his. "How are you after our shared night? Why did you leave so suddenly? Don't do that again, love."

Ripping your hand away, you asked why he was here. If he knew and orchestrated to have you accept this scholarship.

"I don't break my promises. I'd hate to start with you." He explains.

You demanded what he meant by that. He doesn't hide the fact that he's enjoying your turmoil, but you can't even find it in yourself to get it together this time.

"No one scored that night." He shrugs. "They were all so focused on hitting you."

...what?

"I promised you your college scholarship, remember?"

yandere!bully who follows you all the way to college.

. ݁₊ ⊹ .

“Hey, (name), he’s your boyfriend, right?” One of your friends ask as she waves her phone in your face, showing a picture of the guy they caught you with last week.

Immediately, you shake your head and push your friend away. “He’s not my boyfriend…” Your body trembles at the mere thought of him. What if he’s listening in right now? What if he’ll punish you for what you just said? What if he’ll deny you a thousand orgasms? Or worse—what if he deliberately fills you with his seed or maybe he already has . . . ?

He wouldn’t go that far, right?

Your friend shrugs, used to your shy and quirky demeanor. “Well whatever, my boyfriend said he was making out with a sorority girl last Friday night at Kappa Phi’s.”

“Oh.” Was all you could muster up. Does that mean he’s done with you? Under normal circumstances, ups be overjoyed, but you’re scared to find out what he does to his discarded toys.

“So if you’re fucking him, get yourself checked, babe.”

“I’m not—”

She cuts you off. “Better yet, fuck somebody else, anyone else.”

And right on cue, he slips out from where he was lurking. Long fingers stake its claim on your waist gripping it tight enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips.

“Maybe get yourself checked.” He winks and shoots that annoyingly charming smile at your friend. “You’re such a waste of a pretty face if nothing’s up your headspace, no?”

Your friend raises her hand, about to land a hit, but he steps back without a care in the world. “You bit—” He doesn’t even let her finish. You’re immediately taken away while your friend mumbles profanities behind you and him.

“This is the second time this week that your friends have been saying shit about me, baby. Aren’t you going to defend me?”

“But…” You try to start, but the words die down in your throat as soon as he stops walking and drags you by the wrist into an empty classroom.

“But what? You believe them?”

“I—”

He traps you inside, locking the doors and blocking all the exits’ knobs with a chair. “I thought you were better than that, pretty. Aren’t you?”

This man was a sick freak. He loves to see you tremble and whine under his touch, excited to see what you’ll do next. “Are you gonna follow their advice, babydoll?” He says, effectively trapping you between the cold chalkboard and his body.

You close your eyes shut and shake your head as he reaches out for your face. At first, the touch is soft—gentle even, like he’ll never hurt you even if he could. Then, he grabs your face, which makes your eyes shoot open. You stare into your hazy reflection in his eyes.

“I won’t, I promise… please…” You whisper, barely audible but enough to keep him hung.

The aura shifts in the large lecture hall, and he smiles. “Good girl.” He says, kissing your neck and leaving a bite.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bite your tongue to try and stay silent. “Just one.” He rasps against your skin. “Just so you remember that we are girlfriend-boyfriend.”

He really thinks that you should just stop lying to your friends and admit that he’s your one and only. Maybe then, he’d stop scaring you and treat you better, yeah?

Now, his eyes bore into yours. “You,” he points at your chest. “Me,” he points at his own. “And baby,” he points at your uterus, “Makes three.” He laughs—soft yet full of malice. You wonder if he’s serious or not, but you have an inkling that it’s the former rather than the latter.

“Let’s go back to my condo, (name), m’kay? I have a few new toys I wanna show ya!” He beams, dragging you out of the lecture hall. You know you’re in for a long—whatever time it is.