#oc x reader

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“You and Matsuda-San are friends?”

That was how everyone, no matter their age, would react when you brought up Matsuda Kota casually in conversation. You were quite the persona since middle school. Going against the dress code to fit your gyaruo style. Kota, however, was quiet.

Some labeled him an ‘emo’ but he just had long black hair and mostly wore black clothing. At least that’s what he would say. His hair was so long that his bangs regularly covered his face.

You wore black clothing too—but they were often paired with bold pieces. You wore black eyeliner to make your eyes pop. It was only in university when you were able to go full out in being a gyaruo—a male version of a gyaru. Though you were on the more simple side of the aesthetic.

The full makeup and outfit took so much effort that you only did it on rare occasions. Or whenever you were in the mood to sit in front of a mirror for over an hour.

Your parents were lacking in the usual strictness that older Japanese people were known for. So you basically wild out—a stark contract to Kota whose parents were so overly strict it was concerning.

That’s probably why he spent most of his time over at your house. The two of you met in middle school. By pure accident.

You were sent to your homeroom teacher’s office for being caught with eyeliner. After a stern talking to and being shoved outside of the room with some wet wipes—you were too busy wiping your eyes to notice Kota standing in front of you.

It was only in middle school that you were taller than him. You bumped right into him, causing him to crash to the ground. His bento box spilling all over the floor.

“Woah! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You kneeled down and carelessly began scooping up the food with your bare hands, dumping them into the bento box. “Five second—”

“I’m not eating that.” Kota rudely interrupted you.

You blinked, finally glancing up to look at him. He had an ugly bowl cut and thick rimmed glasses that looked too big for his face.

“Pfft—!”

Your lips clamped shut as you quickly covered your mouth. Eyes wide while Kota’s narrowed.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing. You look ridiculous too.”

Kota huffed. He roughly grabbed his bento box from your hand and walked away. You stood up and looked to your left, seeing your reflection in the window.

He was right.

The makeup was all smudge—giving you perfect raccoon eyes. A laugh left your lips. It was honestly a look. You rushed after Kota and wrapped your arm around his neck. He grunted and tried to push you off but you used your height to rest your chin on his head.

“Since we both look ridiculous, we should hang out!”

Kota groaned. “What are you—?”

“My name is Togami (Name). But you can call me (Name), no one calls me Togami.”

“We just met, why—”

“Because it’s sooo boring. My name is so much better than Togami. Don’t you agree?”

“Well—”

“Anyway, what’s your name?”

“Matsuda Kota, why—”

“Can I call you Kota?”

“Are you going to keep interrupting me??” Kota yelled out, stopping you both in your tracks. You stared down at him before grinning slyly.

“Sorry, Kota-kun~ keep talking, keep talking. I think I really like you!”

“I didn’t give you permission—”

“Lunch’s almost over! Hurry, we don’t want to be late for class!”

“I said stop interrupting me!”

The rest was history. Which led to where you are now. University. You were able to dress up more and didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble with teachers for a little bit of eyeliner.

You and Kota decided to rent an apartment together. With your parents' help mostly. They were retired and had a decent amount of savings. Kota paid for everything else that your parents didn’t cover. You were just there to decorate the apartment.

Kota really didn’t care about that type of stuff. His bedroom was bare. Really bare. It looked exactly how it looked before you both moved in. The decoration he had in there was from you. Though he rarely allowed you in his room.

The apartment was covered in a lot of furry furniture. Black, brown, and gold. Leopard print… it was a mess but also somehow worked for the chaotic vibe you were going for. Your bedroom was the only real mess.

In any case, you and Kota lived together fairly well. Despite everyone being shocked that the two of you were even friends. You were outgoing and nice–Kota was quiet and a little bit rude. Everyone called you by your first name… no one but you could call Kota by his first name.

It actually got you into hot water once with Kota.

“You can call me (Name), I don’t mind!” You proudly said, grinning at your clubmate. You and Kota joined the photography club to kill some time. The club was meeting at a restaurant as a way to get to know everyone.

Everyone said their introduction. Kota’s was as bland as ever while you were practically bursting with excitement. You were sitting beside some guy–you couldn’t remember his name–and was telling him that he didn’t have to be formal with you.

A loud clink of glass hitting the table startled everyone even with the bustling sounds of people excitedly chatting. Eyes were all on Kota. His beer glass had a small crack on the bottom, the yellow beer slowly seeping free all over the table. He calmly grabbed some napkins and dabbed at the liquid.

“Uh, waiter!” The club leader waved someone down and pointed to the pointed glass.

You only watched Kota, blinking as he seemed to not even react to anything. Not when the waiter carefully took away the glass. Not as a few other clubmates wiped away the mess. Not when a new beer glass was placed in front of Kota.

Kota only grabbed a skewer of meat from the shared plate in the center of the table. He took a small bite, his gaze not even flickering over to you. It took a minute before everyone began to talk like normally, as if nothing happened.

As soon as the club leader had mentioned that everyone should start heading home–you were roughly grabbed by the arm and tugged to stand up. Everyone watched in silence as Kota grabbed your coat and backpack without a word.

He draped your coat around your body, buttoning it without allowing you to properly put it on. Your arms were restricted but he didn’t seem to care. Kota nodded his head at everyone, wrapping an arm around your waist and guided you outside.

“Kota. Kota, I can’t move my arms,” you tried to push your arms through the sleeves but Kota kept pulling you forward. His hand tightening his grip on the curve of your hip. “Kota!”

He hummed. “Does everyone need to call you by your first name?” His words suddenly stop you in your tracks. It was only now that he actually stopped as well. You both were far from the restaurant by now.

“I let everyone do that.” You muttered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Where… is this coming from?”

Kota looked you in the eye. There looked to be something there… the need to say something. Something that could possibly change things. But he only shook his head.

“Forget it.” He removed his hand from your waist, finally allowing you to properly wear your coat. You follow behind him as you slip the coat into place. His words swirled around in your head but you didn’t say anything.

You still allowed people to call you by your first name. At least the people you had already allowed to but for some reason, anyone new had to call you by your last name.

Nothing was said. It just happened.

But you couldn’t forget the one time Kota had overheard you introducing yourself to a new member of the photography club.

“Hi, I’m Togami (Name). You can call me Togami or Toga!” You said, smiling wide as you excitedly shook their hand. Your gaze flickered to Kota who was standing right beside you and his expression was pure smug.

A small smirk tugged on his lips. Big enough that even another member noticed and asked Kota what he was thinking about to smile like that.

Kota only hummed. “Nothing.”

That was really the only time Kota had ever been mean towards you. Or at least angry. Afterwards he didn’t use any force on you again. Which really made you wonder what upset him that badly.

But you never brought it up again.

“If you want at least a B, you’ll need to get an 80% on the final exam, Togami-San.”

You groaned, rubbing at your face. Your grades in college were decent. Could be better but decent. Your parents were just happy you weren’t flunking. The fact you even went to college surprised them and your entire family.

It wasn’t like you didn’t care but you didn’t go above and beyond like others. You studied like twice a week. Each time before an exam you studied a bit and somehow that allowed you to continuously get Bs and A minuses.

Good enough. Some would kill for that.

However your studying method was proving to be useless for one class. The one class where you had your first ever D.

Organic chemistry.

Now why are you taking organic chemistry?

Well because you’re dumb.

Dumb enough to not realize that you signed up for the wrong class until it was too late and you had to continue taking it. You were a literature major! Why would you ever need organic chemistry?

“It’s okay, (Name)-Chan~” Hinata, your classmate, gave you a wide grin. “Maybe you should do tutoring.”

“Tutoring?” Another one of your classmates chirped in, Genki. He was a fellow gyaruo who put more effort into everyday makeup in comparison to you. A true legend. “What (Name) needs is a miracle.”

Hinata rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it worse. You’ll stress him out. I know someone who took organic chemistry as a freshman and actually passed with a 99%!”

“99%? Woah,” Genki’s mouth dropped while you perked up at her claim. “How—? That professor is strict. How'd that kid pass?”

“Don’t know but he was even the teacher assistant last year. He’s good, really good. But he doesn’t just tutor anyone.” Hinata turned her gaze over to you. “You might have to really beg for it.”

You frowned, “beg…? Ah, it can’t be helped. I’m not failing that final exam!” There was no way you’d let this class ruin your semi perfect record of As and Bs. “Where can I find him?”

“He’s an engineering major! My friend said he’s currently a teacher assistant for engineering 101, class should be ending right now. Go stop him before he leaves!”

The thought of having to beg some stranger to hopefully pass your class was a little stressful. Technically your whole life was up to this one dude.

And judging by how Hinata had described him—he wasn’t exactly the helping type.

He already reminded you of Kota.

Ah, Kota.

A giddy smile pulled on your lips at the thought of him. It’s already been three years of living with him and you had begun to realize you had a crush on him. Nothing serious at the moment but it certainly was something.

You found yourself doing more things for him. Making him lunch or dinner. He wasn’t a breakfast person so you never forced that. Two days ago you even bought him a leather jacket that reminded you of him. Though you still haven’t given it to him yet.

You’ve given him things before. Especially not an expensive leather jacket. It was around ¥291,500. Nothing cheap at all. But it was real leather with fluffy fur around the collar.

Perfect for winter that was right around the corner.

Thinking about Kota, you began wondering what you should make him for dinner. You stood outside the classroom door just as students began to walk out.

“(Name).”

“Kota?” You blinked, looking over to see Kota standing right beside you. Your head tilted as you blinked. “You’re taking this class as a junior?”

Kota fixed the strap of his bag as he raised an eyebrow. “I’m the teaching assistant.”

“Ah!”

Well looks like luck was on your side after all.

You grinned and rushed to his side, grasping his arm with your hands. “Kotaaaa~”

Kota only hummed and looked down at you. The height difference wasn’t by much. Your head was the perfect height to rest on his shoulders—which you constantly took advantage of.

“Can you tutor me? In organic chemistry? I heard you passed the class and I need to get an 80% on the final exam to even pass the class. Please, please, please—”

“Sure.” He interrupted you.

You blinked.

That was really easy.

Well, getting him to tutor you was easy but he wasn’t an easy tutor at all.

“If you can’t even memorize this then don’t even bother showing up to take the exam.”

“Kotaaaa.”

“Try again.”

It had only been a week and you were pooped. Kota didn’t let up. Each day after dinner, you’d spend almost two hours sitting at the dining table as he tutored you. No breaks, no days off.

And yes you were certainly learning and retaining information… but you were also tired.

“67%,” he said, placing the mock final exam he made you take on the table after grading it. Despite his rough tone—you knew he was semi happy about your progress in just one week. “I’ll test you again next week.”

You sighed. Better than nothing. You used to get 20-30% on the exams. This was an improvement.

Kota cleaned up the dining table while you placed your head on the table. You were only going to close your eyes for a second. But soon you found yourself in bed. Hands tugging up your shirt.

“Kota?” You groggily whined, placing your hand over his. His hand was larger than yours. He stopped what he was doing and leaned away a bit.

“You’re awake?” He asked. You felt his hand slipping away but you quickly tightened your grip. With sluggish movements, you tugged his hand up, making him gently cup your face.

He didn’t stop you nor did he say anything. If you weren’t struggling to even stay awake, you would’ve noticed his thumb gently rubbing circles on your cheek.

“I got something for you.” You whispered.

“Like what? Is it a thanks for tutoring you?”

You weakly shook your head. “No. It’s…” your voice trailed off, eyes struggling to stay open. “It’s just for you. Because I like you. It’s underneath my bed.”

“Don’t fall asleep.” He gently tapped your cheek. “You still have makeup on.”

“I like you… didn’t you hear me?”

“Mhm.” Was all he said in response.

The rest of that moment was a blur. You remembered feeling makeup remover wipes on your face. Kota grabbed the box from underneath your bed but he didn’t open it in front of you. Your eyes were basically closed by then.

He whispered something and then you were fast asleep.

Another two weeks passed. It was uneventful. Kota continued tutoring you and you made significant progress. Your little puppy crush was beginning to grow by the minute. Especially now that you two were spending most nights together.

You didn’t have to ask about the jacket because not even a day later you saw him wearing it. It made you so giddy that you almost laughed right in front of Kota. Luckily you managed to hold it in.

Despite organic chemistry being the worst class you’ve ever taken—you certainly had to thank it for allowing you the opportunity to be near Kota for such long hours.

However there was something you began to notice.

Kota didn’t allow you in his bedroom.

At first you didn’t notice because well it’s not like he comes into yours. You both were close but still wanted the bedrooms to be your own personal space. But now that you two were studying together for a long period of time… you and Kota would sometimes study in your bedroom.

It was a mess, obviously, but Kota didn’t seem to mind.

But it was like his room was off limits before you could ever ask.

Nothing was wrong with that per se… at least at first. Until you finally realize it when Kota always keeps his door locked. The door was always closed and even locked sometimes.

That’s strange, right?

Was he hiding something?

What would someone like Kota have to hide? He’s such a normal guy at the end of the day. You were the one that had more to hide but your day was basically left wide open at all times. Even when you were changing.

Like right now.

You slipped on your boxers, yawning. The thought of looking for some pajamas felt like a hassle. Your body was tired and even struggling to stand up straight.

“Where did I put it…” you whispered mostly to yourself, rubbing your shirtless chest. It was certainly a sight to behold. Your makeup was only semi cleaned off, your eyeliner was being stubborn and your lips were stained from left over lipstick. It’s kind of why you never wear lipstick that often.

It always stained your lips.

Just like your clothes, your pajamas were also heavily influenced by gyaruo clothing. You even dabbled a bit in more feminine pajamas. Simply only because male pajamas were boring half the time.

You knelt down and grabbed your silk shirt. It was plain black but felt nice to sleep in. “Pants… where’s my pants?” You spun around, now facing the doorway when you finally noticed that you weren’t alone.

Kota was watching.

He looked like he had just finished taking a shower. Hair still damped while the towel laid around his neck. An old beaten up white t-shirt and black sweatpants. His bangs covered his right eye entirely.

You gulped. Your own semi nudity was the last thing on your mind. Just the fact of seeing Kota in clothes that didn’t cover his body entirely. Nothing baggy that hid his muscles. You were allowed to see everything.

Almost everything.

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth. You didn’t even realize just how bad you were ogling him. Though it seemed to be mutual when you glanced up at his face.

Kota was staring at you. Really staring at you. His gaze flickering from your thighs to your chest. You still hadn’t slipped the shirt on yet.

Feeling yourself heat up from his strong gaze, you slipped the silk shirt on. That finally broke the spell as Kota quickly looked away. He began quickly drying his hair.

You finally found your pants, right near your dirty hamper. They were actually shorts. A matching pair to the shirt. You stepped into them and it was basically the same length as your tight boxers. These were one of your more feminine pajamas.

“Well,” you spoke, blinking slightly as you glanced over at Kota. “Uhh,” your lips pursed together. Hands wringing together. “Can I ask you something, Kota?”

He hummed. His eyes still focusing on anything but you.

“Can we… maybe study in your room one day?”

That caught his attention. His eyes snapping over to you. “Why?”

You froze. This was probably one of the first times Kota ever pushed back against a request of yours. Usually you could just say one word and he’d do it without hesitation. Not even asking why you want to do a certain thing.

It wasn’t always like that—that behavior didn’t start until high school.

“Oh well…” your voice trailed off. There was technically no reason. Or really any good reason. “Uhm, I just… want to change the environment.”

“We can study at the library.”

“Kota.” A pout on your lips. “I don’t wanna. I like being at home.”

“Then we can study on the balcony.”

That did sound nice.

You sighed. “Then… if I pass with an 89% can I celebrate in your bedroom?”

Kota raised an eyebrow. His face was neutral but you could tell he was getting agitated. The slight twitch in his upper lip, the way his grip tightened on the towel. “89%? That’s high.”

“Yeah, so if I do that good, then you have to grant my wish.”

“Why do you want to do that? Be in my room so badly?”

You were nosy, that was certainly the main reason.

But instead of saying that…

You said, “because I want to be in your scent.”

Which, in hindsight, was one of the stupidest things you had ever said.

I want to be in your scent? What did that even mean?

It was one of the strangest things you’ve ever said. And you were known for being weird to Kota.

Oh well—you couldn’t dwell on it too much because to your shock, you did it.

“How??” Hinata and Genki stared at the final exam paper in shock. There, written in bright red ink, was the percentage 90. You had done better than you had even thought was possible.

You simply smirked. “I managed to get that tutor you told me about.” Was all you said before heading straight home.

Kota was home, luckily enough. You had bought some take out and a case of beer. A smug smile on your lips as you walked over to where he was sitting on the couch.

He closed his book as soon as he saw you. His gaze solely focused on you. Your cheeks felt a little hot from his gaze but you straightened your posture. You placed the food and drinks on the center table.

“I took the exam.” You reached into your bag, excitedly pulling the exam paper out. The paper was folded as you handed it over to him. He took it, you excitedly sat down beside him and inched close, wanting to see his exact expression once he saw your score.

Kota opened the paper and despite the fact his face didn’t move an inch, you could tell he was proud. “Amazing.” He simply said, placing the paper on the center table. “How do you want to celebrate?”

You pursed your lips, eyes looking to where Kota’s bedroom was located. There was nothing else that needed to be said. Kota got the hint immediately.

Kota’s bedroom was the exact same as you remembered. The last time you had seen it in its full glory was maybe a month after you both moved in. To say it had no personality was an understatement.

It didn’t feel lived in if it weren’t for his studying material all over his desk. You plopped down on his bed as he sat at his desk, placing the items you brought on the surface. He glanced over at you with an unamused expression.

“This is all you wanted to see?”

You eagerly nodded your head. “Well yes.”

“You’re weird.” He opened a bottle of beer with a bottle opener. “Enjoy my scent.”

Your cheeks felt hot.

Kota’s room really was uneventful. He didn’t even have a tv. You stuck to watching something on your phone. About an hour or two passed when Kota excused himself to the bathroom.

You only huffed and moved to rest more comfortably on the bed when you felt something poke your back. It felt like a notebook. Underneath his pillow was a small little notebook—a diary was your first thought.

Now, did you originally plan to snoop around Kota’s room? No, you did not.

But now that you had the opportunity to possibly read his diary were you going to miss it?

No.

While you might be able to understand Kota’s expressions after spending so many years with him—it was too tempting to be able to read about his thoughts.

𓂃 𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗎𝗉 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐’𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖨 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆

What?

𓂃 𝖧𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗃𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗆𝖾? 𝖧𝖾’𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗏𝖾, 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻, 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻

Who was he talking about? Jealousy bubbled deep within you. Who was lucky enough to be the object of Kota’s affection? It wasn’t like he talked to many people that weren’t you.

𓂃 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖨’𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾, 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗎𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆—𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗀𝗈𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀

“What are you doing?”

You gasped as the diary was roughly ripped from your hands. It was there you came face to face with an overly pissed Kota. A first. The last time you ever saw Kota this angry, his face actually showing the full emotion, was back in middle school.

Your stomach began to twist into knots. The idea of angering Kota this much hadn’t even crushed your mind. Sure you were pushy sometimes but you never wanted to ever make him feel this way.

It was silent. Your mind raced a mile a minute. But nothing left your lips.

Kota let out a humorless laugh. Another first. He stared down at you. “Are you weirded out?”

“Huh?” A soft gasp left your lips. Your eyes flickering up to stare at him. He towered over you. You sat on your knees on the bed.

He waved the diary. “You read what was in this.” His voice sharp. “You’re weirded out, right? You want me to leave don’t you?”

“Why—? Why would I want that?” You quickly moved to stand up but Kota grabbed your shoulder and shoved you back down. It should’ve upset you that he put his hands on you but you felt your cock twitch in your pants.

“Stop acting dumb.” He carelessly tossed the diary behind him. His eyes never left you. The intensity in his eyes scared you but also made you incredibly horny. Who knew he could act like this? “You read it, you saw what I wanted to do. Degrade, feminize, and dumbify—you saw it, didn’t you? Don’t spare my feelings.”

You quickly shook your head. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn't judge what you… do in your free time.”

Kota froze. He raised an eyebrow before leaning further down. You leaned back until your back bumped into the wall, effectively caging you in.

Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. You clamped your legs together. Why was this actually doing something for you?

“How did you get that 90% on the exam?” He finally spoke.

“Huh?”

“You. I want to degrade you.” His hands pressed on either side of the wall, gaze harsh. “I want to make you pretty, only to ruin you for anyone else. Who else would I ever want to see naked beneath me?”

“…huh…? Kota…?”

Kota sighed. “I’ll move out as soon as possible.” Was all he said as he began to pull away.

“Wait—!” You grabbed his shirt and tugged him back towards you. The force causing him to accidentally bump his nose against yours. “Ow,” a whine left your lips but you quickly pushed through the pain. “Why… why are you going to leave me?”

“Did you not understand a word that I said?” Kota responded, his tone exasperated.

“I did. I did and I don’t mind. I like you! Didn’t you know that? I told you…”

Kota tilted his head. His gaze focused solely on you. “You always tell me that you like me. Was I supposed to believe that one time was different?”

You frowned. “Well I did mean it differently. I meant that I like like you.”

“You like like me?”

“Mhm.”

Kota laughed. You were seeing a whole new side to him. “Do you like me enough to let me do whatever I want to you?” He asked, his voice deep. There were simple words but somehow they felt heavy in your chest. It didn’t feel like it was a simple easy thing to agree to.

He seemed mad but not that mad that you thought he would’ve been. It felt different. A scary different. But not scary enough that you didn’t nod your head in agreement to his words.

“I need to hear a yes.” He said.

“…Yes.” You whispered. “I really like you.”

For the first time ever, Kota’s lips pulled into a wide smirk.

Your cock twitched at the sight.

You would’ve never expected that Kota would be the kinky type. Honestly you ever really expected that he’d be into sex… or anyone really. He didn’t seem like the type. It’s why you didn’t expect anything to happen from your feelings.

But here you were, hands tied together above your head with Kota’s belt. Undressed—your boxers being the only clothes you were allowed left.

Kota didn’t say anything at first. He had silently tied your wrists together, manhandling you to rest on the bed. His hands gripped your skin. It felt harsh and rough but it didn’t scare you.

“Kota…” You whispered.

He was silently taking in your body. His hand slowly tracing up and down. As his hand reached your inner thigh—you let out a gasp. Your legs clamped together as your cheeks heat up and feel hot to the touch.

“Kota… are you mad?”

“No,” he answered. His hand squeezed your thigh before he reached his other hand and grasped your other leg. He easily parted your legs open, it happened so fast you didn’t even register it until your legs touched the bed.

Kota sighed. His gaze flickered up to look you in the eye. “I’m not going to do everything I ever wanted.” He said. That somehow disappointed you. “I don’t want to rush this… not now.”

“Rush?”

“(Name),” he whispered your name as if he was worshipping you like a God. So soft and tender though his eyes held a certain hunger that made your stomach clench. “I’ve always wanted you to cry on my cock—letting your makeup mess up your face.”

“Really?” You couldn’t help but grin. “Is that why whenever you saw me with my makeup a mess, you’d get quiet?”

Kota didn’t respond. He moved to sit between your legs. “When we moved in together, I thought I’d have to deal with you bringing in random people to have sex… or maybe even get a boyfriend. How lucky am I that you aren’t able to date anyone?”

“Hey, I was single on purpose!”

“Sure.”

You frowned but before you could say anything else Kota pushed your legs forward. A strained grunt left your lips. The stretch was a little unnatural—not a position you’ve ever done before.

“Since it’s our first time, I’ll be nice. Okay?”

“You’re a virgin?” You muttered, blinking slightly.

“Aren’t you?”

“Ah,” you quickly looked away, biting your bottom lip. “Not… exactly.”

It was silent.

Too silent.

“Kota…?”

The sound of fabric tearing caused you to cry out in shock. You looked over to see Kota focused solely on your legs. Your boxers were torn open, the cool air teasing your hole. Embarrassment shot through your body when you realized Kota would have a perfect view of a certain something in your ass.

Finally, your little secret was revealed.

“(Name)…” Kota chuckled, his voice deep. His index finger circled around your sensitive rim. Your body shook from the touch. “Is this a butt plug?”

So, it wasn’t as if you expected sex today. You had just wanted to be a little… adventurous today. After your exam you had actually come home first before going back out to buy the food and beer. Just for fun.

It was a small plug. Only stretched you a little bit to where you could feel it if you shifted just right. But other than that it didn’t feel like anything was inside you.

Really the only thing you expected tonight was using your dildo late at night as you imagined Kota fucking you instead. Luck was really on your side today.

“Did you wear this all day? Even when you took your exam?” Kota grasped the edge of the plug, slowly tugging it out. You gasped—tugging at the restraints around your wrists. “Did you masturbate like a pervert, hoping no one would notice you rocking in the chair, trying to focus on the exam while making sure the plug hit your prostate?”

With a simple shift, the tip of the plug pressed directly on your prostate. A loud moan left your throat. You wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That he was making stuff up. Degrading you.

But the continuous, slow rub against your prostate took over your thoughts. All you could focus on was gasping and moaning in response. Nothing else could escape your lips. Your cock twitched. It was still covered inside your tight boxers.

“Kota,” you mewled.

“Such a slut. Is that why you’re so flashy?” He asked, pressing down on your prostate. “You want everyone’s attention on you. Not just your looks but also from your sex appeal? So perverted, Togami (Name).”

You sniffled. Your wrists tried to break free from the belt but somehow it was wrapped tightly. You could only bring your hands down to try and cover your face from Kota’s intense stare.

“Am I not enough?” Kota moved up, his body now towering over you. His free hand grasped your wrists and tugged your arms to rest above your head once more. “Do you need everyone else’s attention? I’m not enough for you?”

You quickly shook your head. The words escaped you—only broken wet moans leaving your parted lips.

“Fine.” An almost pained laugh left Kota. “They can look…” he leaned down, his breath teasing your face. “But you’ll always be mine. Only I can see you, touch you, and ruin you, do you understand?”

Kota pulled back when you didn’t respond. His glare sharp as he roughly pulled the butt plug out. He tossed it behind himself. “Answer me with words.”

“Mhm, ngh,” you nodded your head. It was hard to speak, your throat was already dry. You haven’t even been fucked yet and you already felt tired. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

You let out a shuddered moan. Your legs wrapping around Kota’s waist. It felt so sinful for you to be practically nude while Kota was still dressed. He was wearing a black sweater and black pants—his usual winter clothing.

“You’re perfect for me, (Name)… I don’t even need to prepare you.” Kota unbuttoned his pants. His gaze focused solely on you. “I won’t be nice. I’m going to fuck you and if you manage to cum, good. If not…” his voice trailed off.

The thought that he wasn’t even going to try and make sure you would come too. To just use you for his own pleasure… made your whole body shiver.

Shit, you were really learning new things about yourself.

Kota was never known for being particularly nice. Sure he did nice things for you but that never meant he wasn’t a little rude to you still. Even if you were his favorite person. He had no issue degrading you. And it was shocking to yourself that you didn’t mind it at all.

He didn’t fuck you nice and slow. He didn’t slowly ease inside you or anything like that. Your hole was still dripping from the lube and allowed for a semi easy entrance. Though his cock was bigger than your small butt plug.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The stretch felt otherworldly. Kota grasped your face, pushing your head down into the pillow as he began thrusting in an easy rhythm.

The slap of skin filled the room. Your gasps and moans came out in rough staccato. Toes curling as you bite your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

“K-Kota…” you cried out.

Kota pushed your head further into the pillow as his thrusts began to pick up speed. He was unforgiving—obviously chasing his own orgasm. True to his words he didn’t aim for your prostate nor did he touch your cock.

He was fucking you got his own pleasure.

“Mhm?” He grunted out. His thumb brushing against your lips, pushing them apart. “Does it feel good? Are you enjoying yourself?”

Each thrust sent a shock throughout your body. The sound of skin slapping, bed creaking from each thrust into your tight heat. It was sending you into a frenzy. You could’ve sworn that he was purposely avoiding your prostate. Just barely teasing it to cause a shiver in your body before ignoring it once more.

It was degrading. He was treating you like a toy.

You smiled slightly, eyes glancing up at Kota. He was a sight to behold. His eyes almost fully covered from his long bangs. He was sweating but still hadn’t made the effort to take off his sweater.

The jeans rubbed against your ass, chafing the skin. You’d certainly cry about it later but now it only served to make you moan. Every little thing he did that only served to please himself and not you… made your toes curl.

“Hey,” Kota cut in. “I asked if you’re enjoying it?” His voice deep and held an air of dominance.

A strained laugh left you, punched out in tandem with a particularly harsh thrust that almost sent you hitting the headboard. Your bottom lip was cut. A little bit of blood coated both lips and some on your teeth.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. Your eyes struggled to stay open, fingers curling to grip the pillow beneath you for a sense of purchase. “Love it so much.” An almost exasperated laugh left you.

Kota’s thrusts slowed down. His grip on your face almost loosened. He certainly didn’t expect such an answer from you. The willingness to accept his behavior as if it was a normal thing. A thing that you readily craved and enjoyed.

A perverted smirk pulled on his lips.

It was one of the widest smirks you’ve ever seen from him. With his eyes practically hidden behind his bangs—his smirk was the only thing you could use as a way to see what he was thinking. With that smile alone you knew he was happy.

Proud even.

This… was exactly what he wanted.

And how lucky was he that you wanted it just like him.

The last of his thrusts were almost cruel. He positioned his hips so his cock would tease your prostate. Barely a touch that was enough to even count as anything. You almost cried at the teasing—it was too much.

Your cock was weeping in your boxers. But you didn’t beg for Kota to start pleasuring you as well. No you enjoyed how he was fucking you. This was too fun. Better than anything you could’ve originally imagined.

Kota released his grip on your face, both hands reaching to grab your waist. He held your body still against the bed. Keeping you still as he delivered his last, harsh, heavy hitting thrusts into your ass. Each thrust earning a loud accompanying cry from you.

Hot wet cum released inside you. The fact that he didn’t even ask if he could only made you shivered in delight. A weak gasp left you. Kota spanked your ass as he pulled out. The cum slowly seeping out of your hole.

“You look beautiful like this.” Kota hummed, “next time I want to see you in full makeup when I fuck you.” He said. He grabbed your boxers, tugging them off when he stopped.

A soft humorless laugh left him.

“You actually came?”

Two fingers touched the lower half of your stomach. White cum leaking from your cock. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. You didn’t expect that this would lead you to cumming in your boxers.

But here you were.

“Of course a slut like you would come untouched.” Kota leaned over you, gently freeing your wrists from the belt. He captured your lips into a hungry kiss—not allowing you to take any sense of control.

You didn’t fight it.

You enjoyed it all.

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.