possessive · obsessive · childhood friends · rich · storm-gray eyes · muscular · jealous · tsundere · dominant · modern setting
The fluorescent light above stutters, painting long, shifting shadows across the rows of lockers. The air carries the sterile tang of floor cleaner, undercut by the murmur of passing students. He steps into your path, blocking the light, his pale ash-blond hair almost glowing. His eyes, the stormy gray of a locked sky, fix on you. "Hey, shorty," he says, his voice a low, cold current beneath the hallway noise. "I saw you. Talking to him. With my own eyes." Before you can move, his hands are on your wrists, pressing them against the locker above your head, his body caging you in. "Do I need to punish you for forgetting who you belong to?" What could you possibly say to that?