#yes i will prance around in this cute ass tiny skirt

[kweenkatsuki-main]

Why am i just now finding out how amazing tennis skorts are???

[mrsmaybank]

Daydreams - Professor!Reid x Student!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, HEAVY PETTING, SPANKING, FINGERING, DEGRADATION, UNPROTECTED SEX, AGE GAP, DADDY KINK

A/N: Holllaay shit. I am absolutely in love with Professor Reid and hate my father, so I couldn’t help myself. This is my first one-shot smut so I hope it doesn’t suck too badly. Enjoy my perversion EL O EL. Anyway, let me know if ya like it! 

Her little bambi eyes lit up in a way I knew I’d never be able to stop thinking about. The parting of her pouty lips made me want to press a big wet kiss on her mouth. But I couldn’t--She was a student. My student. My best student. Her elbows propped her up on the desk, curving her body so that my mind couldn’t go anywhere but daydreams of her in that same position grabbing onto bed sheets and mewling in submission. 

Our relationship didn’t extend past that, I was her teacher and she was my daydream. My latest vice had become mixing memories with self-tortourus fantasies. Fantasies where she sat naked on my lap, whimpering at my touch. I would treat her like she was made of glass and gold, light and then harsh, hot and then cold, loving and only then fucking. 

Today was the last day of the semester, she’d passed with flying colors and I had expected no less. I congratulated the class, but couldn’t help but say a couple extra words. 

“Special congratulations to the top scorer on the final. Miss, Y/N Y/L/N.”

Her eyes widened in excitement and then lowered in a façade of shyness, “Thank you sir.” 

“You went above and beyond this semester.” Her eyes met mine for the longest they ever had, 

“I’m proud of you.” Something about the way her shy smile had turned into a coquettish grin made me swallow hard, but it wasn’t just that look. She knew what she was doing. She always did.

“Class dismissed! Drink responsibly!” I said as the class packed up their things, “And if you’re underage, don’t drink at all!” I sat back down, tired but relieved. However when I saw that little thing prancing to my desk, I had all the energy in the world. 

“Dr. Reid?” she asked. She batted her eyelashes and played with the necklace that adorned her chest.

“Yes, Y/n?” 

“I, uh, thank you. Everybody said freshman year was gonna be tough,” I smiled at her breathy words, she spoke so eloquently. Like an articulate angel. She was an absolute angel. 

“And it was” She laughed, “But your class really made it better. You’re a wonderful professor. I’ve learned so much.” 

Oh, little girl. There’s so much more I could teach you. 

“Thank you. I have a summertime internship opportunity if you’re interested. There’s limited places, and I think you’d be absolutely perfect.” The outspoken girls brief silence confused me, as she shifted in what couldn’t be described as anything but anticipation, “Professor, are you really proud of me?” She spit out. 

I was stunned, “Why wouldn’t I be? You're great.” 

“I’m a tease, sir. That’s not something I expected a man like you to be proud of.” 

I closed my eyes and smiled to open them back up again. This girl was trouble, no question. But this, this was the kind of trouble that was just begging to be punished.

“You think you’re a tease?” 

She nodded. And I indulged. I shouldn’t have and I knew it. But she was a sweet peach, and I was just tall enough to rip her from her stem and consume her like it was the last fruit on earth. “Sweet girl.” I noticed her thighs squeezing together and the blown out black of her pupils. She wanted this just as bad as I did. “C’mere.” I turned my seat away from the desk. 

Like I knew she would, she obeyed and she sat on my lap. Her head immediately fell into my chest and she looked up at me. “You love to learn don’t you?” I asked her. She nodded, and I wanted nothing more than to take her right then. But I’d waited for this moment too long to do it in such haste. “I love to teach.” 

I kissed her neck like the sweet skin was on fire, light and quick but tender and wet. Her breath rose and fell harder each second my calloused hand got closer to the hem of her skirt, a skirt that was a couple inches too short for her own good.  Everything about her was like a pure poison, a tease for no reason. She knew she could’ve had me whenever she wanted, and yet like the coy and clever girl she was, waited. She waited knowing the longer she did, the more my infatuation with her would grow, and all the better the loving would be.  

My hands' slow descent up her skirt ended at the lace trim of her panties, where I traced the band west and east, watching her breath hitch as every time I trailed back slightly closer to her core. When I finally reached her center, dipping my fingers into her panties I was met with exactly what was expected. Soaking wetness and a whine. I couldn’t stop the chuckle that left me if I tried. I adjusted her so she sat perfectly, arms on my shoulders and legs spread, back to the wall and face to me. 

“Hey, sweet girl.” She rocked herself on my fingers, begging for them to just make their way inside. 

“Dr. Reid, ple-” 

I shoved two fingers inside of her more forcefully then I intended to, although the girl didn’t complain. She screamed. How responsive. 

I continued to stroke her insides, dipping my other hand into her skirt so I could use it to rub circles on her crescent. She was a star on the stage of my lap, and my gaze never left the sight of her gorgeous face contorting in desperation as adorable whimpers fell every time my fingers curled.

“Is it everything you imagined?” She asked. I was slightly taken a back, “F-fuck. Is it Daddy?” I slipped another finger in to shut her up but it didn’t work. “You’ve always wanted to, right? Hold me down and fuck me till I cry.” My fingers sped up and her walls clenched around me, clasping and gripping my fingers, and cries left her pouty little mouth. She had just come all over my fingers and was taunting me with my desperation. What the fuck. 

“Is that what you want?” 

“Hmm,” she giggled, “Please.” 

I shoved her off me to bend her over the wood of my desk.

I flipped her skirt up for a better look at the adorable little behind my sweet girl had. 

“Adorable. So adorable.” I slapped it hard, wanting nothing more than to see the red it would leave in its wake. 

A guttural moan left her mouth, “Shit!” 

“Aw, what’s up little girl? Is it not what you imagined? You’ve always wanted it, hm?” I spanked her again, harder. She whimpered slightly, clearly holding back whatever sounds the action were provoking. “Bent over my desk and being hit?” I hit her again, and she screamed this time. “Or did you think I’d just fuck you right away? “ The room echoed with two sounds, my hand slapping the skin of her ass, and the whine from her that always followed, “Hm? I didn’t hear you sweet pea.” I hit her twice then, as she finally submitted, “Daddy, please!” 

“What’d you want babe?”

“Please, fuck me.” 

I dragged the tiny piece of cotton that had now been soaked off her, preparing to gag her with them. 

“You being loud is not gonna cost me my career.” 

“Wait!” I stopped in my tracks, 

“I’m on the pill. Just so you know.” 

I smiled, “Okay.” Shoving the panties in her cute little mouth as she nodded eagerly in understanding. 

I unzipped my pants, finally freeing myself from the tightness that had me painfully strained. 

I gently made my way so my tip was at her entrance, as she wiggled into me, 

“Desperate little slut.” She moaned against her own fabric. 

I grabbed her by the waist to shove her into me, my cock hitting the back of her walls as she cried, I couldn’t fathom the pleasure that every nerve in my body was feeling. “You’re so tight. So wet..” I pounded into her with all the strength I had in the world. Each thrust eliciting a muffled moan or whimper or sob that just urged me to go in again harder. I grabbed and pushed her propped elbows down, so I had a hand on the back of  her neck, holding her down exactly like she said I wanted to. She was right. I did. “This is what we both wanted, huh?” 

“Little girl” I started, my thrusts into her beginning to get sloppier as her cries got louder, my voice was coarse, “Pretty little girl. You like this?” Between messy sobs of pleasure, she got out a pathetic little mewl of “Yes.” I snaked a hand around to pull her up and look her in the eyes and press a sweet kiss to her forehead before ripping the panties from her mouth and roughly pressing her back down on the desk. “I wanna hear you.” I fucked her with a passion I hadn’t ever in my life.

Her walls gripped me tighter then I thought was possible, and I knew the end was near. “Daddy.” She panted, ‘G’nna c-cum.” I ignored it “Aw. Pretty girl, you can wait for Daddy, can’t you?” 

“No!” she wined, “Please, just let me-Fuck! Daddy,” she sobbed, “Please.” My thrusts were getting rougher, messier, better. “Come.” I ordered. Her walls began to convulse and flutter, physically begging for me to join her. I got faster, fucking her as she came, lost in her pretty moans and gripping pussy. She bounced with my thrusts, sobbing as she said, “Cum, daddy, please.” The rapid pace stopped as those words left her mouth, I came into her as deep as possible, feeling her twitch as my sticky release coated her. Pulling out, I flipped her around to kiss her sweetly. She giggled into the kiss and looked at me in a way I’d remember forever. 

“Thank you, professor.” 

“Yeah little girl, anytime.” I began to help her clean up.

She lit up, “You mean that?” 

I nodded and helped her sit up, “Oh, yeah I do.” 

[seijohsfairy]

𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁

sometimes you meet a stranger on a windy balcony in the middle of the city, and sometimes you fall in love with him too.

.wordc. 4k+ tw yandere, implied noncon, toxic relationships, older meian, daddy kink, cunnilingus, brief drug use, fluff ??

+

If the light hits you right, you look infinite. And even if it doesn’t, you still look about a million miles out of his league for what he’s concerned. All bright smiles and quiet apologies when passing by people. He should be a waste of free time to you for all intents and purposes. A face in the crowd. The thought makes his chest feel a bit tight though, because despite the irrationality of it, he still wants to be here. With you, bathed in the glow of the sun and resting so peacefully beside him.

He doesn’t like feeling like just another guy, reminds him too much of his past disaster relationship. Which is why you’re so different, so perfect. Other people judge, you don’t. You never judge him, so he thinks the least he can do is the same in return. His ex-wife still has the keys to his place, though she doesn’t have the intention of using them ever again. She’ll lose the keys long, long before he changes all the locks. You still have to get settled into his bed first, but if you were to ask for the keys he’d let another set be made instantly.

Because he’s known you for only a little while and you already have his heart beating erratically. No longer overcome with the sense of longing. If anyone were to ask, and his friends do on occasion, he’d tell them this is it.

Now, there’s you. A stunning, young thing, beaming warmth and goodness from the seams. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing here, truth be told, because as much as he stares at you through thinly veiled casual curiosity, there’s no changing the fact that he could be twice your age and you should most likely be disgusted by him.

He’d been coming to that quiet balcony staring out into nothing everyday for months. But you’d walked up to smoke beside him, resting your chin on the railing and looking so fucking small and vulnerable. Maybe it’s the way you don’t even spare him a second glance, not gawking at the huge, hulking attraction of a guy he finds himself being looked at so often, or the little tears that glisten at the base of your lashes as you take a deep pull and let the drug filter in. He guesses that to you, most people are big and overwhelming, considering.

He’s no longer in his prime. He knows it better than most, is confronted with it every time his reflection catches him. He’d thought it then, still thinks it now. Older, divorced and between being busy with work and his growing collection of dropped hobbies, there’s hardly anything he can offer you. He’s at least lucky he’s not balding, but he knows he looks pretty much his age with the thin lines here and there, slightly greying temples and stubble that doesn’t stay away long when he shaves. God, he feels old.

It’s a fucking miracle and a half that he managed to keep his usual wit, entertaining you in your nightly loneliness and carefully offering to walk you back to your street for safety. It’s difficult not to seem like a threat when you’re— him, but he’d been genuine. You were too tiny and kind to be out by yourself. You’d taken it, too sure that he was out for no harm. Looking back, that young naivety is something he should be worried about.

He didn’t buy his way into your pants that night, but you’d clearly been some level of upset, so that first time had been a lucky lay. A one off, he’d thought. The way you creamed around his cock and moaned so softly, so beautiful when digging your nails into his shoulders. You could’ve told him it was a dream, slipped out like nothing ever happened.

He’d forgive you. At this point he’s almost certain he’d do anything for you. If you asked him to seriously injure your asshole boss for you, he wouldn’t think long. You’re too kind to ask that though, too forgiving too. He takes a few deep breaths as he thinks, finally tearing his eyes away from your cute, sleeping pout to look out the window.

There’s some noise from the waking city outside, he still worries it’s gonna wake you badly and you’ll curse him for one of the many mishaps he’s committed against you and walk right out. You could’ve, probably should’ve. But you’ve ended up in his bed a few times now, and every time it gets harder to just let you go with a coffee and a quick kiss that doesn’t promise much of anything. He’s not even sure that you have his number. But as long as you keep showing up to that balcony, he’ll give you whatever you want.

An almost unnoticeable tap comes to his shoulder. When he turns, you’re up, barely. Eyes open just the tiniest sliver, shuffling a little closer to his warmth. Fuck. You’re so fucking tiny compared to him, his huge, burly body sticking out like a sore thumb from the blankets while you’re buried deep in them. He stays on his back when he reaches over and runs a thumb along your cheekbones, letting the soft skin warm under it. You snuggle into his chest with the last of your fruity, soft perfume that clashes so violently against his.

It makes his chest feel like it’s caving in, pulling the air out of his lungs with each move you make. And he’s always had a bit of a possessive streak, but this is on a whole new level. He doesn’t want you to leave. He shouldn’t let you.

“Mornin’,” he offers, voice too deep and a bit raspy. You hum. Your palm presses to his chest, not hard enough to push, though that is what he thinks at first. Only just enough pressure to be present, to feel his skin under yours. Hesitantly, he rests his hand on your hip under the blankets, running the calloused pads of his fingertips over your exposed side. You mumble something about the light and the curtains, slurring the words and making him utterly weak once again. “Yeah, s’my bad.” He takes a deep breath, and you make no effort to get up.

“Have breakfast with me?” You look utterly content in his arms. Say yes. Say yes. “Or ya can use the shower, I think ‘m gonna take a day off.” He knows, actually, because he’ll at least drive you back home if nothing else. You’re not taking a tram all the way back to your apartment, he won’t let you. He doesn’t feel the need to tell you that right now though.

Doesn’t need to tell you how jealous he feels when he sees you text someone in the morning, but it’s only because he knows how lovable you are. It’s every soft breath, every time you talk or wrap your lips around your straw and each time you adjust your bra or panties or prance in with skirts that should be too fucking short to wear outside, or say his name in that lower, softer rhythm that has him going entirely crazy.

And with a mumbled agreement, he pulls you close and presses a kiss to the top of your head, as you let out a sleepy giggle and kiss his neck.

+

It’s been almost two months of unspoken routine. You don’t always show, but most nights you do. At least once a week for sure. You know the way to his place, hid out from the rain once. You know where he stashes the fresh towels and you’ve flipped through the pictures of him in the national hall with his arms thrown around his team, drenched in sweat. You talk over a glass of champagne that you admit to bringing to impress him with hot cheeks. It takes a little coaching but you let him in too, the few times he visits your apartment, your roommate out for the night.

But you look more at ease in his house, he thinks. Giddy being swayed in his strong arms and being lifted off your feet to reach the higher shelves. He guesses two months in you reach the honeymoon phase, though you’ve still yet to label it, which admittedly, gnaws at him. You don’t seem like the type to leave his house and run into someone else’s arms, but sometimes he thinks the one mark over the row of other splotches on your tits doesn’t look familiar enough to be his.

Sometimes he walks you to the tram and some guy sneaks a good look at your ass, and you don’t flinch. You smile at the next door neighbor, a guy frustratingly close to your age, and he smiles back. Maybe, maybe you’re fucking them too, it does seem to come naturally to you. He doesn’t resent you for it, but that guy— you wince when his fingers dig too hard into your hip. That’s when he has to soften, apologize and lean down to kiss you, which at least you don’t shy away from.

One Saturday you come to the balcony late.

Nervously picking at the elbows of your sweater, he takes a long look at you. You walk up closer after a breath of silence, before slowly wrapping yourself around his side. Your breathing is shaky when you cling on. “I’m glad you waited for me, I don’t— wanna be alone right now.” He knows he shouldn’t, but he tilts your head up into view to watch your teary eyes clench shut, you’re shaking. He might be too, but for different reasons.

You’re so perfect. An angel, his angel, no one should so much as look at you wrong.

“Who did this?” he breathes, and you flinch at the harshness of his voice. But he could never hurt you. Ever. There’s a sprouting seed of anger growing with each passing second though. He lets out a trembling breath. “Tell me who did this to ya.” He’ll kill them, he’ll kill them, whoever hurt you, he’ll—

“No,” you say. Why? His mouth is already opening again, but you tug at his shirt collar and look at him so sadly that for a moment he forgets all about anything else. Nothing beside you matters anyway. “Leave it, Shugo.” You all but pull yourself toward him by the fabric to make a little kissy pout, and fuck, there it is. His little baby. He kisses you, gently and slowly a few times as you whisper it to him again. You can sense that he’s mad, but there’s no way you know just how much.

He lets you kiss him deeper, tongue melting with yours and pull you up against his body for safety, lets you pretend that everything is okay and eventually laugh it off as you two stumble into his apartment with heavy pants, biting down on the skin of your neck hard. He throws your legs over his shoulders and buries his head between your legs and makes you cum, and cum and cum. Lets you fall asleep right after, brushing his fingers along your shoulder and so close he’s scared his heartbeat will wake you.

It’s an hour or so after that your phone shakes, lighting up with a message. Someone named Alex apologizing about the fight and about making you cry. More messages come, a group chat of your “friends” this time and how they should have been more understanding, that they too are sorry. The timing is too neat not to have been talked about too. Would you really miss a bunch of gossip like that?

The light shuts off again after a few seconds, and he stares down at you sleeping so peacefully. Is it so wrong to just want you to be happy like this all the time, not worrying about any of them? You’re safe in his arms. Other people are unpredictable. They cause issues.

You’re too sweet to see it though, but he’s got some years of experience on you.

After a shower early in the morning he goes out for coffee, back again before you wake up. He smiles a bit wider when you do wake and your troubles from last night seem to have evaporated with the sun. His innocent, perfect little flower. He’ll never let you feel like that again.

Shugo watches you sit on the counters and talk as you lick at the whipped cream moustache, kisses you until you melt in his hold too. He asks you to be his girlfriend with a deep rumble of his morning voice, and you say ‘yes’, eyes wide with surprise but happy nevertheless.

He doesn’t tell you it when pushing your hair away from your face, kissing down your neck and feeling your legs wrap around his waist. But he really loves you, you know?

+

Your friend Alex is declared missing six days after your fight with him, and you’re inconsolable for a few hours when the police calls. He understands that, though the tears in your eyes are a bit too much for him. Your friend hurt you, wounded you, you shouldn’t be this sad. What comes around goes around, doesn’t it? But he understands that you’re too kind and naive to see it. However, he doesn’t understand when you tell him you need a few days to be alone.

It won’t do you any good, you’ll just be lonely and he tries to tell you as much, but you just get more upset at his touch. You push his hands off when he tries to pull you back, and he’s gotta admit, that stings.

“He’s just missing,” he ends up mumbling, “it’s not like he’s dead.”

Your eyes go wide, and you stare at him for a few moments, before getting off the couch and walking over to the hall and when he tries to ask where you’re going, you’re basically shooting him lightning, your tears running in crooked lines down your face. “I can’t believe you just said that like it’s no big deal that he’s gone,” you hiss, and maybe it’s that youthful fighting spirit that breaks out next when he tries to comfort you again. “Don’t fucking touch me, I’m going home.” The clock is so loud as it ticks. Oh, so that’s how it is. You’re attached to your friends like that, yeah?

He watches you stomp around his house as you collect your stuff, whispering curses under your breath when you can’t find your shoes fast enough. He stays quiet. You pause before leaving, tell him you’re going to your best friend’s place, and that he shouldn’t worry. He might have responded before you slam the door, he’s a bit too lost in thought.

You’re perfect for him, one little fight won’t change that, you’re not to blame here. But it becomes glaringly clear that he’s right. Your friends are no good.

+

Sometimes you feel like you’re here too often, considering it’s only been three months and a bit. You like Shugo a lot though, he’s as sweet as he’s big and you think it’s the former Captain in him that always seems to know you before you know you. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s so attractive it makes you dizzy. But despite all his best efforts, it’s been a bit lonely. And quiet. This isn’t necessarily a strange thing in itself, if not for the way you left it off with your friends.

Dropping off your radar so slowly it’s barely noticeable, the people you talk to everyday don’t start conversation anymore. Your messages go unread for days at a time, and when they’re finally opened it’s the same short response. ‘Super busy, no time to talk.’ You in comparison have never had this much free time, but ever since the fight Shugo’s been on his best behaviour. He even made sure to move his work home so you wouldn’t be too alone while you’re still on break. His idea too, said the stress has clearly been taking a toll on you.

He’s not entirely wrong either. With everything changing so suddenly, you’ve never felt smaller. You feel fragile. Shugo’s good company though, never bothered by your attention being on him. You let out a breath, drumming your fingers on your knees, deciding it’s been a bit. You get off the bed and tiptoe into the living room where he sits with his eyes aimed at the screen, hair loose and dress shirt two buttons lower than it should be to keep you sane.

You walk up behind your big hulk of a boyfriend to put your chin on his shoulder, hugging him close. Shugo makes a soft noise of agreement, and you rest your nose at his cheek. “Are you hungry? I can make you a snack.”

“S’alright, baby. ‘M gonna finish up ‘ere and pay attention to ya.” With a few clicks more he closes the laptop, getting up from the chair and sweeping you up into a bridal lift so quickly it makes you hick, giggles breaking out after.

“You’re already done?”

His pretty eyes are aimed down at you with a kind of shine you rarely see with other people. It’s so intense, sometimes it’s almost a bit scary. But to have been a top level athlete for years does take a ton of dedication, so it’s no wonder he’s dedicated in other areas as well. “No, just realized I’ve got a hunger for somethin’ else.” He easily carries you back to where you came from, tossing you down on the bed and kneeling over you. His lips curl a little when you blink up at him, before he nods at your chest. “Take that off for me.”

The flimsy top you’d thrown on comes off just as easily at the order, pulling the few bows and shrugging it off. You smile at him sweetly as you grab your tits, pushing them together a little. “Like this, daddy?” He grunts some agreement when he lowers himself, but you roll over before he can use his mouth on you like he so obviously wants to, grin slipping on. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you down on the bed more by your shorts and you squeak when his palm instead traces along your back, settling at the top of your spine and wrapping around your neck. The bed shifts when he sits down over your legs.

“You’re gonna be testy?” It barely takes a second for him to have you back the other way, yanking your legs up and pulling your shorts along with your underwear over the curve of your ass and up your legs. “I don’t fuckin’ think so,” he says, pushing one knee to your chest and you quickly hook your arm around it. He dips down to press a few kisses down your chest, then licking a stripe up the underside and taking your nipple into his mouth. You don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of how easy it is to let him take the lead, his fingers slipping between your legs to dip into your little cunt and rubbing your clit.

“Mhm, wet already?” He chuckles, sucking harder until you mewl under him and spread your thighs more. Tugging him a bit closer by his hair, he slips a finger inside and pushes his palm up to your sensitive nub, sucking marks all over the last ones. You shake under him, rolling your hips to meet the precise, practiced way his finger curls into you before he adds another. With a loud pop he disconnects from your other nipple to squeeze your tits together, then kneeling at the side of the bed. “C’mere.”

Your hips angled up to give him better access, he fucks his fingers into you faster and deeper, now instead starting to lick and suck at your pussy and your oversensitive clit. He lets you rub against his tongue and beg for more, giving into you so easily. And you moan louder as the feeling builds, being driven crazy. “Daddy.” You push softly at his head once you’re close, looking at him so blissed out between your legs. “I’m gonna-”

“Y’taste so fuckin’ good.” The short sentence is enough to have your head spinning, definitely when he dives back in again and fucks his fingers right into that spot.

“Ahng, I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop.” You know he has no intention to. Sucking over and rubbing his tongue along your clit until your vision goes white and your toes curl, back arching from the bed. “Holy — fuck, fuck, ah- daddy, daddy, thank you.” You cum so hard your head pounds, and only when you twitch from overstimulation does he pull away.

You sit up right away to pull him onto the bed and towards the headboard so you can ride him, but a flash of light catches your eye.

On the bedside table, your phone’s ringing. Only, it’s not ringing so much as it’s lighting up. And normally you wouldn’t care, but a thought worms it’s way out of you. “Is my phone on silent?” You didn’t do that. You wouldn’t have, considering you’ve been waiting for people to ring you back for ages. So… Shugo must’ve.

You reach for it, but his arms are longer and he snatches the device right from under you, something that makes your brows furrow. “Daddy, give it back, I wanna know who’s calling,” you pout, watching a bit absentmindedly as he turns the screen away and taps something.

“No one’s calling.”

Your brain whirls. “Yes, it was. Give it to me, I want to talk to my friend.” You would’ve let it ring, you’re still hot and bothered and Shugo’s very hard in his shorts, but you can’t make sense of it. “Shugo, give me—”

He holds it away when you reach for it again, and this time your brows furrow hard enough to look like a glare. But he doesn’t give in, frowning back at you. “It’s not gonna be your friends, ya know that, it’s a wrong caller.” You know that. Your head pounds harder, and another thought makes it’s way up, but you try to squash such an ugly thought. No way your boyfriend would have something to do with the radio silence.

He taps away as you try to make sense of it, you never once hesitated giving him your phone, you never had anything to hide. But the blocked numbers, the opened messages, all your calendar notes vanishing. You thought your phone was old, that the apps were freaking out. “There, ’s gone.”

“My friends—”

“Stop talkin’ about your stupid friends,” he snaps, wrapping his arm around you and pulling your vunerable, naked body into his lap as he tosses the phone aside in some laundry, “they’re no good. I’ll take care of ya.” And you try to pull back to look at him, really look at him, in hopes that this is some kind of joke. But he stares down at you like he’s making total sense, and you’re too confused and surprised to do much of anything. “They won’t bother us anymore, promise. I took care of ‘em.” With that he kisses you again, and you feel like the world crumbles around you.

He pulls you closer, rocks his hips into you and it’s almost automatic when you kick at his thigh to get out of his reach, falling back onto the bed. Part of you wants to ask, but a larger part of you just wants out of here. Far away from him for a while. Your stomach is so heavy, you don’t know what to make of any of this. Just that it isn’t right, the way he’s looking at you with such intensity isn’t all there. You start climbing off the bed, quickly fishing your clothes from the ground. But two strong arms wrap too tight around you, a hand coming over your mouth as he yanks you back into him. Grip painfully tight on your face.

“You can’t leave.” He pries the clothes from your grip, ripping them in half in the process. And you trash against him, tears welling up as you realize how terrifying this is. “You’re mine,” he coos it sickeningly sweet, grip loosening for only a second when you kick at his shin and claw at his arms. “Just—” It’s no use, he’s so, so much bigger than you. He drags you back and bends you over the bed, holding you by your neck and pressing his shin over your legs before he uses his entire body weight to keep you in place.

“You’re still mine, right?” The kisses he plants on the side of your neck are so cold now, they make you sick. He rubs himself on your hip, hard cock twitching. Like this is just some lover’s spat to him, like you aren’t crying your eyes out right now. He presses a kiss to your head. “Ya don’t have’ta be upset, it’s only ‘cause I love ya.”