⋆ ᯓ 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 your bully or boyfriend ? hates your gossiping friends and their “advice” 𝜗ৎ 658 wc tw: gender neutral reader, manipulation; mentions of sex, violence, abuse; implied pregnancy, non-con, power dynamics
“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.
a/n: I was bullied my whole middle school, go fish!
