Jinsu's Doll

you were sitting on a crate, half-listening to chrollo’s low, melodic voice and half-watching feitan and phinks argue over who had to keep watch. you raised your hand along with the others, your mind drifting.

it started out harmlessly.

"put a finger down if you’ve ever killed someone for a piece of jewelry" machi said flatly. everyone's finger went down.

"put down if you been to meteor city" feitan muttered. another finger down.

you were barely paying attention, eyes fixed on the back of chrollo’s head, admiring the way his hair fell over his collar, when hisoka’s voice cut through the air like a deck of cards.

"put a finger down..." hisoka started, his voice dripping with that signature, mocking theatricality "...if you've ever fucked your boss before."

the circle went silent. shalnark let out a choked-out laugh, and even uvo looked surprised. you stiffened, your heart jumping into your throat as your gaze snapped to hisoka. he was looking right at you, his golden eyes narrowed into a smug, knowing smirk. he knew. of course he knew.

you froze, your finger still stubbornly held up in the air. you couldn't put it down—that would be an admission in front of the entire troupe. but keeping it up felt like a lie that hisoka was ready to tear apart.

just as you were about to stammer out a deflection, you felt a presence behind you.

chrollo didn't stop talking to shizuku. he didn't even pause his sentence.

"...and once the auction begins, shizuku, you'll handle the southern exit while franklin covers the—"

as he walked past you, his hand reached out with casual, terrifying precision. his thumb and forefinger caught yours, firmly but gently folding your finger down into your palm. he didn't look at you. he didn't look at hisoka. he just kept walking, his voice never wavering as he continued his instructions.

"—while franklin covers the main hall. make sure the vacuum is ready."

he moved out of the circle as if nothing had happened, leaving you sitting there with your hand closed into a fist and your face burning a bright, frantic red.

hisoka let out a low, delighted chuckle, leaning back against the wall. the rest of the troupe was silent, looking between the back of their leader and your blushing face.

chrollo had just claimed you in front of everyone without even breaking his stride.

before you can even gasp, a thick arm locks around your waist, pulling your back flush against a broad, solid chest. his free hand slams over your mouth, muffling your scream into your own skin. he's so much bigger than you that your toes barely graze the pavement as he hoists you up, dragging you into the mouth of a pitch-black alleyway.

"shh... shh... it's okay, pretty. i got you" he starts cooing, his voice a soft, terrifying contrast to the strength of his grip.

he slams you forward, pinning your chest against the cold brick wall. for a split second, he lets go of your mouth, but only to grab both of your wrists, yanking them up and pinning them with a single hand. the moment you try to squirm, a sob building in your throat, his palm is back over your mouth, pressing your head into the wall.

"shut. up."

his voice is rough now, a jagged rasp right against your ear that sends a cold shiver down your spine. he leans his weight into you, crushing you against the bricks so you can feel every inch of him.

"you’'e always so tired after your friday nights, darling" he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "stop wasting your energy trying to fight me off."

the way he says it—so casual, so sure—makes your blood run cold. he hasn't just been following you. he's been studying you. and now that he finally has you in the dark, he has no intention of letting his favorite subject go.

you try to kick, to twist your hips away from the cold brick, but it only makes it worse. the movement just brings you closer to him, and you feel the heavy, solid length of him straining against his pants, pressing right into the small of your back. he lets out a low, dark chuckle at your struggle, his hips starting a slow, torturous grind that pins you even firmer against the wall.

"keep doing that" he breathes, his voice thick with a sudden, dangerous heat. "see what happens."

he yanks at the hem of your uniform, the fabric bunching up until he can force the corner of your own shirt into your mouth. "bite down" he commands, his fingers lingering to make sure you're muffled. "if i hear a single word—a single scream—things are going to end very badly for you. understand?"

you can only nod frantically, the taste of the fabric dry in your mouth. as soon as he knows you're quiet, his free hand isn't wasted. he slides it under your shirt, his palm rough and hot as he finds your breast, squeezing and kneading the soft skin with a possessive grip that makes your head light.

he doesn't wait. he doesn't even bother with your clothes yet.

he just starts to drive his hips into you, a rhythmic, heavy pounding through the layers of denim and cotton. the friction is intense, blunt and demanding. every time he hits home, he lets out a jagged, broken moan right into the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"you're so small" he growls, his hand tightening on your chest as he picks up the pace, the sound of his heavy breathing and the wet thud of his hips echoing in the narrow alley. "i've been thinking about how this would feel for three weeks. don't you dare stop moving for me now."

he lets go of your wrists, but you don't run. you can't. "hold yourself up" he mutters, his voice a dark thread of authority. "hands on the wall. don't let them move."

you obey, fingers scratching at the rough brick as silent, hot tears track down your face and disappear into the fabric of the shirt bunched in your mouth. you're shaking so hard the brick feels like it's vibrating, but anton is a solid, unmoving wall of heat behind you.

you hear the sharp click of a belt, the rustle of fabric, and then the biting chill of the night air hits your skin as he yanks your pants and panties down in one swift, impatient motion. they pool around your ankles, leaving you completely exposed to him in the dark.

his hand slides between your thighs, fingers ghosting over your entrance, and he lets out a sharp, jagged hiss of breath. you're already dripping, your own body betraying you from the sheer, terrifying adrenaline of it all. he circles your clit once, twice, smearing the slickness everywhere.

"look at that" he growls, the sound vibrating through your spine. "so wet for me already. you knew this was coming, didn't you, pretty? you've been waiting for me to catch you."

the fact that you're ready for him only makes him more feral. he doesn't bother with a slow build. he reaches down, his massive hands locking around your waist and hoisting your small frame up effortlessly. your feet dangle, uselessly searching for the pavement as he 'hugs' your hips, pinning your front even harder against the wall.

he pulls his own pants down, the heat of him finally touching you directly. he rubs the head of his cock against your opening, dragging it through your wetness to coat himself before he gives one violent, heavy shove.

you let out a muffled, high-pitched sob into the shirt as he drives into you, filling you completely in one go. he doesn't give you time to adjust. he just buries his face in your hair, his hands bruising your hips as he starts to move, his entire weight crushing you against the alley wall with every deep, relentless stroke.

the alleyway is filled with the wet, rhythmic sound of him bottoming out inside you, mixed with the jagged, broken whimpers you can't keep behind the fabric in your mouth. he's so much bigger than you that his shadow completely swallows yours against the brick, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light from the street.

his chest is a solid wall against your back, every heavy thrust jolting your entire frame. your legs dangle uselessly, kicking at the air as he holds your full weight with just his hands clamped on your waist. you're nothing but a toy in his grip, a little doll he's finally allowed to play with after weeks of watching from afar.

"that's it" he moans, the sound vibrating through your skin. he pulls back just to slam home again, harder this time. "take it all, pretty. you're built so perfectly for me. i knew you'd fit just like this."

he starts cooing then, voice dropping into that terrifyingly sweet tone he used when he first grabbed you. he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair as you let out a shaky, high-pitched cry.

"look at you, shaking so much" he murmurs, lips grazing your earlobe. "such a good girl for holding the wall. i'm so proud of you, darling. so worth the wait."

his hands shift, one leaving your hip to slide up and grip your shoulder, pulling you back even tighter against him so there's absolutely no space left between you. the friction is overwhelming, and he's loving every second of your weakness—the way your fingers scrape uselessly at the brick, the way your small cries turn into desperate, muffled sobs.

"shh, don't cry" he whispers, though his movements are anything but gentle. "i've got you. anton's got you. you don't ever have to worry about those long walks home alone anymore. i'll be right there. every. single. night."

he lets out a long, guttural growl, his pace becoming frantic and messy as he nears the end, his large frame trembling with the effort of keeping his composure as he uses you exactly how he's been dreaming of for weeks.

the way your body responds to him is the ultimate betrayal—the terror and the adrenaline have peaked into a desperate, white-hot friction you can't escape. your inner muscles clenching around him, rhythmically pulsing as the first waves of your climax hit. you're sobbing into the shirt, your head spinning as he feels you come apart for him.

"yeah, that's it" he rasps, voice breaking as he feels you tighten. "give it all to me. you're so loud for me, pretty."

the moment he feels your walls twitching and milking him, he goes feral. he yanks his hand from your shoulder, his palm slamming against the front of your throat—not to choke you, but to pin you firmly, his thumb pressing into your windpipe just enough to make you gasp. he needs you still. he needs you to feel every bit of his weight as he reaches his own limit.

his other arm hooks violently around your waist, bicep bulging as he yanks you backward, your spine arching away from the wall and right into his broad chest. he's holding you so tight it feels like he might break you, your feet dangling and twitching in the air as he gives three more heavy, bottoming-out shoves.

he let out a long, guttural roar into the night air, his body locking up as he fills you. the heat of him is overwhelming, a flood that leaves you feeling heavy and branded. his fingers stay curled around your throat for a long second, his head dropped onto your shoulder as he heaves for air, his chest vibrating against your back.

"you're mine now" he whispers, the cooing tone back, though his grip hasn't loosened an inch. "you're never going home alone again. i'm the only thing you're ever going to feel after dark."

he moved before you could finish. it wasn't aggressive, but it was fast—that deceptive, long-limbed speed of his. suddenly, his shadow was eclipsing you, his large hands coming up to bracket your face. his palms were hot against your cheeks, his thumbs digging into your skin just enough to keep your head tilted up toward him.

"no." his voice was a low, vibrating hum. "no space. i don't want space."

"anton, you're not listening—"

"i am listening" he cut you off, his eyes dark and wide, shimmering with a mix of pure confusion and mounting rage. he looked like a kid who had just had his favorite thing taken away, but the strength in his grip was all man. "i’m listening to you say that you don't want to be mine anymore. why would you say that? did i do something? do i need to hold you tighter? is that it?"

he leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing ragged and hot against your skin. he smelled like the rain and that familiar, comforting scent that usually calmed you, but right now, it felt like a cage. he wrapped his arms around you, lifting you slightly off the floor just to tuck your head under his chin, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back his temper.

"you’re staying" he muttered into your hair, his voice breaking. "i’ll be better. i'll stay home more. i'll turn my phone off. but you’re not going anywhere."

you tried to push at his chest, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. he just tightened his hold, his fingers fisting into the back of your shirt, pulling you so flush against him that you could feel his heart hammering against his ribs.

"don't say it again" he whispered, a sharp, desperate edge finally cutting through his soft tone. "don't ever say that word to me again. i don't care how much space you think you need. i'm not letting you go. you're mine, okay? you're mine."

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy and obsessed. "say it. say you're staying."

“you like the quiet” he says, his voice echoing off the tile walls. he doesn't stop until he’s right behind you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. his grip is firm, possessive, a silent claim that makes the hidden wire taped to your ribs feel like it’s burning your skin. “it’s peaceful, isn't it? after the sirens and the hysteria.”

“it’s lonely” you reply, your voice steady despite the adrenaline. you lean back slightly, resting your head against his stomach.

anton hums, a low vibration that you can feel through his jacket. he’s been acting strange all week—more attentive, more observant. he’s been watching you with eyes that seem to see right through the facade you’ve built, through the fake identity and the manufactured hobbies.

he moves to sit beside you, his arm sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. the intimacy is suffocating. you’re so close you can smell the sharp, metallic scent of the pool water on him, mixed with something darker—something like burnt paper and cold rain.

he turns to look at you, his gaze dragging over your face with a terrifyingly slow intensity. he isn't flirting tonight. the mask is gone. there’s just a cold, analytical curiosity in his expression, like he’s finally solving a riddle he’s been working on for weeks.

“you’ve done a remarkable job, you know” he whispers, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. it’s not a caress; it’s a measurement. “the way you swim, the way you laugh at my jokes, the way you pretend to be so utterly, hopelessly in love with me. it was almost convincing.”

your pulse spikes, but you don't pull away. you can’t.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, anton” you murmur, meeting his eyes.

he laughs, a dry, humorless sound that makes your blood run cold. he leans in, his face inches from yours, his lips brushing against your ear. his hand shifts, moving from your jaw to rest over the spot on your chest where your microphone is hidden. he presses down, hard enough to feel the slight outline of the device beneath your shirt.

“you are quite soft for an agent” he says, the words barely a breath. “all this time, i thought you were a student. i even let myself wonder if you were a distraction i could afford to keep. but you’re just another part of the system, aren't you? another person sent to look for ghosts in my house.”

he pulls back, his expression shifting into something so painfully gentle it’s worse than the threat. he reaches up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering.

“you’re scared” he notes, his voice soft, almost pitying. “you’re terrified that i’m going to kill you right here, in the place where we spent so many nights pretending to be normal.”

he stands up, offering you a hand with the same casual ease he’d use to help you out of the pool. he doesn't look like a killer. he looks like a boy in love. but his eyes—those dark, hollowed-out eyes—tell a completely different story.

“i’m not going to hurt you” he says, stepping back toward the exit. “not yet. i’m actually quite curious to see how long you can keep this up. consider this a game, darling. you try to prove what i am, and i’ll try to see if i can make you believe i’m something worth saving.”

he turns and walks toward the door, his footsteps silent on the wet tile. he pauses at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder one last time.

“oh, and agent?” he calls out, his smirk widening. “try not to get too attached. it makes the ending so much harder to handle.”

he pushes the doors open and disappears into the night, leaving you alone in the silence of the pool, the weight of the secret you’ve been carrying finally feeling like it might just crush you.

the week after the pool felt like walking through a funhouse mirror. everything was the same—the brutalist architecture of the campus, the smell of damp textbooks in the library, the way the late afternoon sun hit the quad—but it all felt poisoned.

every time you sat in the cafeteria, you felt eyes on the back of your neck. you’d turn around, heart hammering against your ribs, expecting to see anton, but there would just be a group of freshmen laughing or a professor rushing to class. the paranoia was a physical weight. you started checking the locks on your apartment twice, then three times. you even caught yourself tracing your own footsteps, wondering if the person walking two blocks behind you was just a student or if it was him, waiting to see if you’d finally crack.

the worst part wasn't the fear; it was the memory of the "sweet" date you’d had just three days before the pool incident.

it had been perfect—almost annoyingly so. you’d gone to that hole-in-the-wall bookstore downtown, the one with the creaky floorboards and the smell of vanilla and dust. anton had been so charming, so terrifyingly attentive. he’d spent twenty minutes browsing the poetry section, eventually pulling a worn copy of rilke from the shelf and handing it to you.

“i thought you’d like this” he’d said, his voice dropping into that soft, melodic register that made you forget you were wearing a wire. “it’s quiet. like you.”

he’d bought you a coffee after, holding your hand as you walked back to campus, his fingers tracing slow, hypnotic patterns against your knuckles. he’d even stopped at a flower stall to buy you a single, wilted-looking sunflower, tucking it behind your ear with such genuine tenderness that you’d almost felt guilty for the hidden camera in your coat button.

he’d laughed at your jokes until his eyes crinkled. he’d listened—really listened—as you talked about your fake major, nodding at all the right places, occasionally brushing a stray hair from your face. you remembered thinking, this is it. he’s just a student. maybe the report was wrong. maybe he’s just a lonely guy who likes poetry.

now, sitting in your apartment while the rain lashed against the window, the memory made you want to retch. you finally understood what that date had actually been: it was a test. he hadn't been listening to you; he’d been analyzing your reactions, testing the limits of your mask to see how much of a "sweet, naive student" you could play. he’d known exactly what kind of attention would make you let your guard down, and you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

the next day on campus was a nightmare. you saw him near the physics building, leaning against a stone pillar, reading a book. he didn't approach you. he didn't wave. he just looked up, locked eyes with you from across the crowded quad, and held your gaze for three seconds too long. he gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod—the kind you’d give a friend—before turning the page.

it was a signal. he wasn't running. he wasn't hiding. he was inviting you to keep playing, and you realized, with a sinking feeling in your gut, that he already knew where you lived, what your shift schedule was, and probably who you were calling in the middle of the night to report your findings.

he’s moving before he’s even done talking, dropping to his knees on the rug right in front of you. he looks small, desperate, his hands reaching up to grip your thighs, not to hold you back, but to anchor himself. he’s pressing his forehead against your stomach, his eyes squeezed shut, a low, broken sound coming from his throat.

“i’m sorry” he whispers, his voice thick with genuine shame. “i’m so fucking sorry. i don’t know why i said that. i just—i was frustrated and i’m a coward and i took it out on the only person who actually gives a shit about me.” he looks up, his eyes glassy and pleading. “please. i’m so sorry. i’ll do anything. just tell me how to fix it.”

you just stare down at him, too exhausted to even fight the tears stinging your eyes. the hurt is still pulsing under your skin, a dull ache that makes your limbs feel heavy. anton is a mess of apologies, his hands trembling as they move from your thighs to your waist, his head bowed in a way that’s almost pathetic. he’s desperate for you to just look at him, to give him a sign, any sign, that you aren't leaving him behind.

when you finally give a small, tired nod, the relief that washes over his face is almost frantic. he doesn't wait. he’s already tugging at the hem of your shorts, his fingers surprisingly gentle now as he works the fabric down, sliding them over your hips until they pool at your ankles. he doesn't stop there. he pushes your panties down with them, leaving you exposed in the center of the rug, vulnerable and still shaking from the venom he just spit at you.

he doesn't hesitate to settle between your knees. his nose nudges against your inner thigh, that familiar, grounding scent of him—soap and heated skin—filling your senses. he looks up at you one last time, his eyes searching, before he dips his head.

the first touch of his tongue is a shock, wet and hot against your folds. he’s worshipping you now, trying to erase the memory of his harsh words with every flick and swirl. he uses his nose to bump firmly against your clit, a blunt, deliberate pressure that makes your breath hitch and your hips instinctively buck upward. he’s not rushing; he’s taking his time, his tongue dragging slowly over the sensitive, engorged bead, separating your folds with such care that it feels like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you.

“so pretty” he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled and raw. “you’re so good to me… i don’t deserve you.”

he moves with a new, hungry rhythm, his tongue sliding deep into your slickness, then pulling back to focus entirely on the clit. he starts to suck, his mouth pulling your clit deep inside, his tongue working in rapid, swirling circles that send jolts of lightning straight to your core. every time you gasp his name, his grip on your thighs tightens, his thumbs digging in, grounding you as he makes you come undone.

the friction is dizzying. he’s relentless, his nose constantly bumping against you, grinding the sensitive skin as his tongue keeps up a punishing, heavenly pace. you’re clutching at his hair, your nails digging into his scalp, trying to pull him closer even though he’s already buried as deep as he can get.

“that’s it, baby, give it to me” he rasps, pulling back just for a second to look at you, his face flushed and his eyes blown wide with obsession. he doesn't give you a moment to breathe. he dives back in, his tongue darting out to lick the very tip, swirling around the sensitive nub until your vision blurs and your pussy starts to throb uncontrollably.

he’s drinking you in, lapping up the evidence of your pleasure like it’s the only thing that matters, his head bobbing with every surge of his tongue. the way he’s focusing on you, the way he’s obsessively trying to fix the damage he caused with his mouth, makes your heart ache in a completely different way. you’re sobbing now, not from the fight, but from the overwhelming sensation of him—of how he’s making you feel like you’re the most precious, delicate, and entirely ruined thing in his world.

his fingers hooked into the waistband of your microscopic black pleated skirt, tugging it roughly down your thighs. you were wearing a tiny, cropped white t-shirt that barely covered anything, leaving your midriff completely bare. you had been about to step outside to grab something from the convenience store down the street, entirely forgetting that his group members were hanging out in the main area—and that sungchan was pathologically possessive.

"i was just... going to the store" you whispered, trying to turn your head away from the heat of his face. "sungchan, let go, the guys are literally right outside—"

"i don't give a fuck who's outside," he snarled softly, his dark eyes boring into yours as he trapped your smaller frame against his body. his large hand slid from your waist down to the meat of your thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a mark. "you think you're walking out of my apartment looking like a total slut? showing off your legs, your stomach... you wanted them to look at you, didn't you?"

"no! i didn't think—"

"exactly. you don't think" he cut you off, his breath hot and ragged as his anger quickly bled into pure, unadulterated lust.

he didn't waste another second. sungchan unzipped his pants with a heavy, metallic rasp that made your heart drop into your stomach. he grabbed your hips, lifting your small body effortlessly until you were forced to wrap your legs around his waist, sitting right on his thighs as he hovered over the edge of the desk.

the position exposed you completely. your tiny skirt was pushed up past your hips, and your underwear was ripped to the side with a single, violent tug of his long fingers.

"sungchan, please, they're gonna hear" you begged, tears prickling your eyes from the sheer panic of getting caught.

"then you better keep your fucking mouth shut" he growled.

without a single hint of preparation, he lined his thick, pulsing shaft against your opening and slammed into you in one blunt, unyielding motion.

the sudden, massive invasion made a choked-out shriek rise in your throat, but sungchan instantly clamped a large hand over your mouth, muffling the sound against his palm. your eyes went wide, tears spilling over your cheeks as your tight walls were forced to stretch around his immense size.

he didn't give you a second to breathe. he immediately started moving, his hips rolling in a heavy, punishing rhythm that made the wooden desk groan under your combined weight. every time his pelvis slapped against your thighs, the wet, heavy sound felt deafening in the small bedroom.

"fuck" sungchan choked out, his head rolling back as your tight muscles gripped him like a vice. his free hand moved under your cropped shirt, his palm heavy against your bare skin as he squeezed your waist, anchoring you to him.

"you feel so fucking good. look at you, crying and shaking just because daddy's taking what's his. you think you can dress like this for anyone else?"

you could only shake your head against his palm, sobbing silently as he kept pounding into you with zero mercy. the friction was overwhelming, burning hot and deep, hitting your sweet spot with every single brutal thrust. through the thin walls, you could hear the faint sound of one of the members laughing at the TV, making the risk and the pleasure blend into something completely dizzying.

sungchan noticed the way your eyes drifted toward the door, his grip on your waist tightening until it hurt.

"look at me" he commanded, his voice dropping into a harsh register that made your stomach flip. he slowly pulled his hand away from your mouth, replacing it with a sloppy, dominating kiss that tasted like iron and raw heat. "don't look at the door. focus on my cock ruining you. you wanted to show yourself off, right? take it."

he sped up, his thrusts becoming shallower but incredibly fast and frantic as he reached his limit. your fingers clawed at the fabric of his black shirt, your body bouncing violently against him with every rough stroke. you were a total mess, completely overstimulated by the intense speed and the constant fear of the door opening.

"cum for me" he groaned against your lips, his tongue tangling with yours. "clench around it, baby. show me how much you love getting punished."

a jagged, broken sob escaped you as your body completely shattered, your walls clamping down in a violent, crushing climax. the sudden pressure broke sungchan completely. he let out a low, guttural growl, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he delivered three deepest, unyielding thrusts, bottoming out entirely against your womb.

he came hard, filling you up with heavy, hot pulses of semen, his entire massive frame shaking as he emptied everything he had deep inside your core.

he stayed buried inside you for a long minute, his chest heaving against yours as he panted, his sweat dripping onto your bare stomach. finally, he pulled out with a wet, heavy pop, the fluids immediately leaking out onto your thighs.

sungchan quietly adjusted his clothes, his expression turning cold and satisfied as he looked down at your trembling, ruined form on his desk.

since then, he’d become your shadow. your sweet, harmless best friend who always happened to be walking in the same direction as you, always knew exactly what kind of coffee you liked, and always offered to walk you back to your dorm late at night.

"anton, oh my god, you scared me" you breathed, letting out a shaky laugh as you pressed a hand to your chest. "what are you even doing down here? i thought you went back to the dorms hours ago."

he didn't answer right away. he walked over, his movements slow, almost heavy, before he slipped into the plastic chair right next to yours. the proximity was instant. anton was big—much bigger than his shy demeanor let on—and when he sat next to you, his broad shoulders completely blocked out the rest of the dim basement row.

"i saw your laptop was still active on our shared drive" anton murmured, his voice that low, raspy cadence that always sounded like he’d just woken up. he tilted his head, his dark eyes fixed on your face, tracking the way your eyelashes fluttered. "and i knew you hadn't walked home yet. it's dangerous for you to be out here alone. you're too careless."

"i'm fine, anton, it's just campus" you smiled, turning back to your laptop.

you didn't see the way his expression completely shifted the second your back was turned. the soft, gentle "best friend" smile vanished, replaced by an intense, heavy stare that dark-eyed and predatory.

anton hadn't just "happened" to see your laptop active. he had a tracking app synced to your student login. he knew exactly which desk you sat at every tuesday and thursday.

he knew the exact route you took through the quad, the brand of laundry detergent you used because he lingered a second too long whenever he hugged you goodbye, and he had a hidden folder on his hard drive filled with candid photos he’d taken of you when you weren't looking—laughing in class, biting the end of your pen while studying, walking in the rain.

he had orchestrated the entire friendship. the shy, awkward boy routine was the only way to get inside your perimeter without scaring you off. he needed to be close enough to touch you, to smell you, to listen to the sweet, naive way you complained about your day while completely oblivious to the fact that he was drowning in a sickening, dark obsession with you.

"you look tired" anton whispered, his hand slowly coming up to rest on the back of your chair. his long fingers brushed against a stray strand of your hair, the touch so light it was almost accidental. "your skin is all flushed. are you warm?"

"a little" you muttered, shifting slightly. the air in the basement felt suddenly thick, almost suffocating. "the heating down here is weird."

"let me help" he said softly.

before you could say anything, anton reached over. his large, warm hands caught the hem of your oversized crewneck sweater. he didn't wait for permission; he just pulled it up and over your head in one smooth, practiced motion, leaving you sitting there in just your thin, ribbed tank top. the cool air hit your bare arms, making your nipples instantly harden against the thin cotton of your bra underneath.

your breath hitched. anton didn't look away. his eyes dropped directly to your chest, his gaze heavy and completely unbothered by the fact that he was staring. the shy nerd act was completely slipping, a dark, perverted hunger taking its place.

"anton..." you murmured, your heart suddenly hammering against your ribs. the way he was looking at you didn't feel like a friend at all. it felt dangerous. "what are you doing?"

"you're so pretty" he choked out, his voice dropping into a rough, demanding register you’d never heard from him before. he didn't give you space to think. he reached out, his long, pale fingers wrapping firmly around your jaw, his thumb digging into your cheekbone to force your head back.

"you have no idea how long i've been sitting next to you, watching you breathe, watching your mouth move, just waiting for you to be completely alone with me."

"wait— anton, stop, you're hurting me a little—" you gasped, your hands flying up to grip his thick wrists. you tried to pull away, but he didn't budge an inch. his grip was like iron, his tall body leaning over you until you were pinned flat against the plastic back of the library chair.

"i'm not going to hurt you, sweetgirl" he murmured, his face inches from yours. through the dark fringe of his hair, his eyes were completely blown out, black and wild with obsession.

"but you've been driving me crazy for months. you think it was an accident that i sat next to you that day? you think it's a coincidence that i know exactly when you're sad, or what you want to eat? i know everything about you. i watch you constantly."

your brain scrambled, a sudden chill running down your spine as his words registered. he was watching you. the late-night texts, the accidental run-ins—it hadn't been luck. he was stalking you.

"you're crazy" you whimpered, a tear of pure overstimulation and panic slipping down your cheek. "let me go, anton, please—"

"shh" he hissed softly, leaning down to lick the tear right off your skin, his tongue hot and wet against your cheek before his mouth moved to your ear. he bit the soft lobe, hard enough to make you arch your back with a sharp cry. "don't say that. i'm your best friend, remember? i'm the only one who takes care of you. and right now, i'm going to take care of how wet you are."

before you could scream, his free hand slid down your stomach, his large palm heavy and unyielding as it shoved straight down the waistband of your sweatpants. his fingers ripped your underwear aside, his thick middle finger driving deep inside your damp center without a single bit of preparation.

a choked-out scream ripped from your throat, but anton instantly slammed his mouth over yours, cutting off the sound. the kiss was sloppy, violent, and utterly dominating, his tongue invading your mouth, tasting like the mints he always chewed. down below, his fingers were moving in a brutal, fast rhythm, bottoming out against your cervix over and over until your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

"mmph—!" you thrashed against him, your fists uselessly beating against his broad chest, but the more you fought, the harder he fucked you with his hand, his thumb brutally grinding against your clit until your brain completely short-circuited.

he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips as he panted heavily, his face flushed and sweating.

"look at you" he growled, watching your eyes roll back as your walls clenched frantically around his fingers. "you're so tight. you're soaking wet for your stalker, aren't you? you love how dirty i am. you love that i know exactly how to break you."

"no— stop— tony, please, it's too much—" you sobbed, your hips bucking off the chair involuntarily as a massive, shattering climax tore through you.

anton let out a low, guttural growl at the feeling of your walls crushing his hand. he pulled his wet fingers out with a loud, slick sound and immediately stood up. he didn't even bother to take his pants off the right way—he just unzipped his sweats, pulling his thick, pulsing shaft free. it was covered in pre-cum, throbbing angrily in the dim light of the basement.

he grabbed your hips, sitting you easily on top of the table before dragging your body forward until your ass was at the very edge of the table, your legs forced wide open over his broad shoulders.

"look at me" he commanded, his voice vibrating in your chest. "i want you to see exactly who's taking this from you. your sweet little friend."

he didn't give you another second to breathe. anton leaned all his weight forward and slammed his entire length inside you in one blunt, unyielding motion.

the massive invasion made your head snap back, a broken, jagged shriek echoing through the empty library stacks as his thick cock bottomed out against your womb. the friction was intense, borderline painful, but as he immediately started pounding into you in a heavy, punishing rhythm, the pain quickly melted into an overwhelming, blinding heat.

"fuck! you're so small" anton choked out, his hands gripping your hips so tightly his fingers left immediate red marks on your skin. his chest was heaving, his pelvis slapping violently against yours with a wet, heavy sound.

"i'm going to fill you up so deep you're never going to forget what i look like. you're mine now. i'm never letting you walk away from me."

you were a complete mess beneath him, crying, shaking, your fingers clawing at his shoulders as he completely ruined you.

he kept talking dirty, his voice sweet but his actions entirely predatory, telling you how he was going to walk you home after this and lock the door behind him, how he was going to watch you sleep every single night.

"cum for me again" he groaned, his pace becoming frantic, his thrusts shallower but faster as he reached his limit.

"clench around me, baby. show me how good you take your friend's cock."

you screamed, your body stiffening as a second, even more violent orgasm locked your muscles. the extreme pressure broke anton completely. he let out a loud, animalistic moan, burying his face in your neck as he delivered one final, deepest thrust, holding himself inside you as he came hard. you felt every single hot, thick pulse of his semen pumping deep into your core, overflowing until it was dripping down the plastic chair.

he stayed there for a long time, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath ragged as he slowly came down from the high.

finally, he pulled out with a wet pop. anton quietly zipped his pants, his expression instantly shifting back to that soft, gentle calmness. he reached over, grabbed your sweater from the floor, and gently shook the dust off it before wrapping it carefully around your shivering shoulders.

"i told you not to come here today" he cut you off, his voice flat, ice-cold, and entirely devoid of the gentle warmth he usually saved just for you. he didn't even turn around to look at you.

"i know, but you weren't answering your texts and i got worried" you said softly, walking over to set the bag on the small coffee table behind his desk. "just take a five-minute break, okay? you need to breathe."

anton let out a sharp, ugly scoff, finally spinning his chair around. his eyes were bloodshot, his long hair messy, and the glare he leveled at you made you freeze in your tracks.

"are you deaf?" he snapped, his voice rising, sharp and biting in the quiet studio. "i said i was busy. do you not have anything better to do than follow me around like a lost dog? i'm trying to actually work, and you're just standing there suffocating me. you're so fucking needy."

the words hit you like a physical slap. anton had never, ever spoken to you like that.

"i... i just wanted to bring you food" you whispered, your throat tightening instantly. the sudden sting of tears prickled your eyes, and before you could blink them away, a heavy drop spilled down your cheek.

you tried to swallow the sob rising in your chest, but it came out as a broken, pathetic hiccup. you immediately looked down, hating yourself for being so sensitive, your mind instantly spiraling into the worst thoughts.

"i'm sorry" you choked out, your voice trembling as you began to completely tear yourself down out of sheer panic and hurt. "i'm stupid. i'm so stupid, i always do this. i'm just annoying and i ruin everything... i'm sorry for being a burden, anton. i'll just—i'll go."

you wiped your face roughly with the sleeve of your sweater, trying to laugh it off, trying to act like your chest wasn't caving in. "it's fine, really. i'm just being dramatic. eat the food when you're done."

you turned around to grab the doorknob, your hands shaking so badly you could barely grip the metal.

but before your fingers could twist it, two big, heavy hands clamped onto your waist from behind, pulling you back against a broad chest.

the anger in anton's posture evaporated the second he heard your voice break. seeing you standing there, crying and literally calling yourself stupid and annoying because he had snapped—it completely shattered him. the stress that had been clouding his brain vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, suffocating wave of guilt.

"hey— no, wait. stop" anton panted, his voice completely different now—thick, panicked, and desperate. he turned you around in his grip, forcing you to face him, but you kept your head ducked, refusing to let him see how ruined you looked.

"look at me, baby. please" he begged, his large hands moving up to cup your face, his long fingers wiping the fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. when you tried to pull away, he just held you tighter, pulling your forehead against his chest. "fuck, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean it. i swear to god i didn't mean any of it."

"no, you're right" you sobbed against his shirt, your hands clutching his wrists to try and push him away. "i shouldn't have come. i'm just annoying—"

"stop saying that" he choked out, his own voice cracking as he buried his face in your hair. he was holding you so tightly it almost hurt, his big frame trembling with the suddenn fear that he had genuinely broken something between you. "don't say that about yourself. you're not stupid. you're the best thing i have. i'm the one who's a piece of shit. i'm the one who's pathetic for taking my stress out on you when you were just trying to take care of me."

he guided you over to the studio couch, pulling you down into his lap so you were sitting sideways across his thighs. anton didn't care about the music anymore, didn't care about the deadlines. he just wrapped his long arms entirely around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the sensitive skin there over and over again until your sobbing began to slow down.

"i'm so sorry, sweetgirl" he murmured, his breath hot and shaky against your skin. "i was so mean to you. you don't deserve that. look how much you're shaking... look what i did to you."

his hands slid under your sweater, his large, warm palms pressing directly against the bare skin of your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. the contrast of his earlier cruelty versus how desperately sweet and worshipful he was being now made your brain feel completely melted.

"tony.." you whispered, hiccuping against his shoulder.

"i've got you," he whispered back, his large fingers tangling in your hair, gently pulling your head back so he could look at you. his eyes were so soft, so completely obsessed and filled with devotion. "let me fix it. let me take care of you now, okay? you've been so good to me, and i was so bad."

he leaned in, kissing your wet eyelids, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, before finally pressing his lips to yours. the kiss wasn't rough or demanding—it was deep, slow, and incredibly sweet, his tongue sliding against yours with a soft, wet rhythm that made you moan quietly into his mouth.

anton groaned at the sound, his hands shifting to grip your thighs, pulling you closer until your pelvis was pressed flush against his. even through his sweatpants, you could feel how hard he already was, his length pulsing thick and heavy against you.

"you're so perfect" he panted against your lips, his fingers digging into the soft meat of your thighs. "so sweet for coming all this way to see me. let me give you what you want. let me make you feel good until you forget i was ever mean to you."

he didn't even wait for you to answer, his hands immediately moving to slip your pants and panties off with reverent, heavy touches, kissing every single inch of skin he exposed like he was begging for your forgiveness with his mouth.

anton groaned as he guided you down onto the leather couch, your bare skin contrasting against the dark material. he kicked his sweatpants away, exposing himself—already thick and weeping with pre-cum from how desperately he needed to feel you. he hovered over you, his tall, broad frame completely blocking out the rest of the dim studio, making you feel so tiny and safe underneath him.

"look at you" he whispered, his voice incredibly thick and deep as he parted your knees, settling his weight right between your thighs. "so beautiful for me. let me come inside, yeah? let me fix this."

he didn't rush. he positioned the blunt head of his shaft against your wet opening and slid inside in one slow, agonizingly deep stroke. a shaky sigh escaped your lips, your fingers immediately curling into his shoulders as his length filled you completely, stretching your tight walls.

"fuck... you're so warm" anton choked out, his eyes closing for a second as he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "you fit me so perfectly, sweetgirl. such a good girl for taking me so easily."

he started moving in a long, rolling rhythm, his hips grinding slow and heavy against yours. every thrust was deliberate, meant to worship you, not hurt you. he reached up with both hands, bunching the hem of your shirtand pushing it up to your collarbone to expose your breasts. anton's gaze darkened, his breath hitching at the sight of your flushed skin.

"so pretty" he murmured, leaning down to bury his face in your chest. he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it sweetly, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak until you were whimpering, your head rolling back against the couch cushions. he switched to the other side, using his teeth just enough to make you gasp, his thumb sliding down between your bodies at the same time.

his long fingers easily found your swollen clit, his thumb pressing down and rubbing in small, rhythmic circles that perfectly matched the slow pace of his hips.

the double stimulation was too much. you sobbed out his name, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist to pull him even deeper. "anton— ah, tony, please—"

"i'm right here. i've got you" he whispered against your skin, his voice raspy and full of devotion. he kept his movements steady, fucking you with that agonizingly slow, deep friction while his thumb kept working against your wet nub. "you're doing so well for me, baby. look how pretty your face gets when you're melting like this. i love the way you feel around my cock. so tight."

every time you whimpered, he kissed the sound straight out of your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours in a lazy, deep rhythm. he kept praising you, telling you how perfect you were, how much he loved your body, until all the lingering hurt from earlier completely dissolved into pure, heavy pleasure.

"that's it, cum for me" he groaned, feeling your muscles begin to twitch and clench frantically around him. he sped up just a fraction, his pelvis slamming a little harder against yours, his thumb applying just enough pressure to send you over the edge. "show me how much you like it. let me feel you squeeze me."

you moaned into his shoulder as your body shattered, a heavy, soaking climax clamping down hard around his entire length. the intense pulling of your walls broke whatever restraint anton had left. he let out a low, shaky groan, burying his face in your neck as he delivered three more deep, unyielding thrusts, bottoming out completely against your womb before his own body seized up.

he came hard, filling you up with thick, hot pulses of semen, his hips stuttering against yours as he emptied himself inside you.

afterward, he didn't pull away. he collapsed his weight carefully onto his elbows so he wouldn't crush you, his chest heaving as he panted against your skin. he kept his thumb gently resting against your sensitive core, his other hand sliding up to smooth your messy hair away from your face.

you let out a soft whine, nuzzling deeper into his neck, your thighs twitching against his sides. the friction of your bare skin rubbing against his sweatpants was starting to drive you crazy, a dull, heavy ache settling deep in your lower stomach.

anton chuckled, a low, vibrating sound in his chest that you felt more than heard. "impatient tonight? hm? daddy's girl is so needy."

he didn't wait for you to answer. his right hand caressed your hip. you were completely bare beneath him now, your heat radiating against his stomach.

anton kept his hand right on top of you. his large, heavy palm rested against the outside of your thigh for a second before his index and middle fingers slipped to find the slick, swollen heat between your thighs.

the moment those two long fingers slid over your drenched slit, your head snapped back, a sharp gasp escaping your lips.

"fuck, you're so wet for me already" anton groaned, his eyes darkening as he looked up at your flushed face. he used his index and middle fingers to slowly part your lips, smearing your own wetness all over you. "look at you. just laying on daddy and you're already dripping."

you tried to hide your face back in his neck, but anton brought his other hand up to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair to keep you looking down at him. he wanted to see every single expression.

slowly, his index and middle fingers started to pump against you. he kept the pressure steady, sometimes going back out, his two fingers sliding up and down your wet slit targeting your swollen clit. with every upward stroke, his fingers applied just enough pressure to make your hips jerk uncontrollably on top of him.

"ah— anton, please—" you sobbed, your fingers gripping his shoulders so tight your knuckles turned white. your knees dug into the mattress on either side of him as you tried to press yourself harder against his hand, but he kept his pace agonizingly slow.

"shh, take it" he whispered, his voice incredibly gentle but unyielding. his index and middle fingers kept up that steady, torturous rhythm, sliding through the thick creaminess you were producing. "you're doing so good for me. such a good girl, just taking it. let daddy make you feel good."

the contrast between his massive, heavy hand on top of you and the precise, burning friction of his two fingers was too much. you started to roll your hips, trying to force his hand to move faster, your cute socks sliding uselessly against the sheets as you thrashed.

"no, don't move" anton commanded, his grip on your hip tightening to pin your lower body completely still against his. "just lay there and let me do it. look at me while you get ruined."

you forced your eyes open, tears blurring your vision as you looked down into his dark, obsessed gaze. he looked so calm, so completely in control, while his index and middle fingers continued to slick over your clit, creating a wet, squelching sound that echoed loudly in the quiet bedroom. he was completely coating you in your own moisture, his fingers moving in a rhythm that knew exactly how to break you. pumping his fingers inside at times with a slow agonizing pace but curling them just right.

"that's it, watch me" anton murmured, a soft, proud smile finally breaking his calm expression as he saw the desperation in your eyes. "you look so beautiful when you're crying for daddy. so pretty and cooperative."

the friction build-up was becoming unbearable. every single stroke of his two fingers felt like a spark of electricity shooting straight to your core. your chest was heaving, your skin covered in a light sheen of sweat as you melted completely against his broad torso.

"i'm gonna— anton, i'm close, please—" you babbled, losing all your words as the tension in your thighs reached a breaking point.

"i know, baby. let go for me" anton whispered, his voice dropping into a rough, gravelly register. he finally sped up the movement of his index and middle fingers, his free hand flat and heavy on your lower back while those two fingers worked you into an absolute frenzy. they rubbed over your sensitive peak with a punishing, heavy rhythm that left no room for escape. "give it to me. let daddy feel how hard you clench around my fingers."

that broke you. your entire body going rigid as the orgasm crashed over you. your walls pulsed violently against his hand, your inner thighs shaking so hard you couldn't even keep your balance on top of him. you collapsed completely onto his chest, sobbing as the waves of pleasure ripped through you.

anton didn't stop. even as you were coming, his index and middle fingers kept moving, thrusting through the intense wetness to milk every last drop of the orgasm out of you.

"fuck, you're so tight" he groaned, his own hips twitching slightly underneath you as he felt the aftershocks of your climax. "look at how much you're shaking. such a good, sweet girl."

finally, his hand slowed down, though he didn't pull his fingers away. he left them resting gently against your soaked skin, keeping you grounded. his other arm wrapped entirely around your back, pulling your trembling body as close to his chest as physically possible.

he began to rub your back in long, soothing strokes, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses into your hair, your temple, and the corner of your damp eyes.

"you did so well" he murmured, his voice completely soft and full of affection now that the tension had broken. "so beautiful for me. just rest now, baby. daddy's got you."

"fuck, you're so tight" he pants, leaning down to crush his mouth against yours, his tongue sliding deep into your mouth to catch your whimpers. his hands shift from your thighs to grab your boobs, his long fingers squeezing the soft flesh roughly, kneading your breasts while his hips keep up that punishing, relentless rhythm. you're a complete mess under him, your head tossing on the pillow, your clit rubbing against his pelvic bone with every deep, sliding thrust until you're crying out his name, completely lost in the friction.

you can feel him getting bigger inside you, the heat of his cock becoming almost unbearable as his pace quickens, his thrusts turning shallow and desperate. "anton— wait, you promised," you sob out, trying to push at his chest as the realization hits you, your core clenching around him as you feel him hit his limit. "anton, pull out—"

but he doesn't. instead, he growls, his entire body going rigid as he slams himself all the way to the hilt, burying his cock so deep against your cervix it makes you gasp. he holds himself there, his hips shuddering violently as he cums, pouring a massive, hot torrent of seed straight into your womb. you can feel every single hot pulse of him filling you up, the thick warmth stretching you from the inside out until it's practically overflowing.

he stays heavy on top of you for a long moment, chest heaving against your breasts, his breath hot against your neck before he slowly slides out with a wet, sticky click. you immediately whimper, feeling the heavy warmth of his cum starting to leak out from your pussy, dripping onto the sheets beneath you.

"why did you do that?" you cry softly, your voice trembling as you look up at him, tears blurring your vision. "you said you wouldn't. you promised me, anton."

anton just blinks down at you, his expression shifting back to that calm, innocent look he always gets, completely unbothered as he reaches down to pull the blanket up over your shivering body. he lets out a soft, amused sigh, leaning over to kiss your forehead so tenderly it almost makes you doubt your own mind.

"what are you talking about, baby?" he whispers, his large hand coming down to gently stroke your tummy, smoothing over the skin right where his cum is pooling inside you. "i did pull out. you're just worked up because it felt so intense. you're just imagining things, pretty girl."

"no, i feel it, it's leaking" you protest, your voice cracking as you try to move away, but his grip on your waist tightens just enough to keep you still.

"i told you to stay on the bed" he hissed, his voice so low it sounded like gravel grinding together. "are you stupid? do you have any idea how close i was to finishing that track?"

you tried to gasp, to tell him you were just lonely, but his thumb dug into the side of your neck, effectively silencing you. he leaned forward, his face inches from yours, his jaw set in a hard, cruel line.

"you're always so needy" he spat, his eyes scanning your face with a mix of disgust and mounting obsession. "it's pathetic. every time i try to work, you're right there, begging for crumbs. do you really think you're more important than what i'm doing?"

he shoved you back then, his hand releasing you with a rough flick of his wrist. you stumbled, hitting the edge of the desk hard, the breath knocked out of you. anton didn't look sorry; he just turned back to his screen, his fingers dancing across the keys with a manic, jagged rhythm.

"shut up and sit down" he muttered, not even looking back at you, his tone cold and dismissive. "i'm busy. you'll wait until i'm done, and if you make another sound, i'll make sure you regret it. don't make me tell you again."

he was so keyed up he was shaking, the pressure in the room thick enough to choke on. he didn't care that you were hurt or that you were crying; he just wanted his silence, and he was more than happy to break you to get it.

the silence that followed was heavy, only the hum of the cooling fan in his laptop breaking it. you stayed where he left you, curled up against the desk leg, chest heaving and eyes stinging. you didn't dare move, not after that warning.

after what felt like hours, he finally clicked the mouse to close it all, the sound impossibly loud. he stood up, his chair rolling back to hit the wall with a thud. he didn't check on you, didn't apologize. he just walked over, his boots heavy on the floor, and loomed over you until his shadow swallowed you whole.

"done acting out?" he murmured, his voice now terrifyingly calm compared to the rage before. he reached down, his fingers tangling roughly into your hair to yank your head back so you had to look up at him. "i hate having to be mean, you know. makes me feel like i'm dealing with a bratty kid instead of my girl."

he hauled you up by your hair, not caring as you winced. he dragged you toward the bed, his grip on your scalp never loosening. "you wanted attention, right? you were so desperate for me to look at you."

he shoved you down onto the mattress, and before you could scramble away, he was already over you, his knees pinning your thighs down. he grabbed the waistband of your shorts and panties, bunching the fabric in his fists and yanking them down in one brutal, tearing motion, leaving you exposed and trembling beneath his dark, hungry gaze.

"look at you" he scoffed, his free hand slapping your inner thigh hard enough to leave a stinging red mark. "shaking like you're terrified. are you? you should be."

he didn't waste time with foreplay. he spat on his hand and shoved his fingers inside you, his movements jagged and impatient. you gasped, arching your back, but he just slammed his hand down on your stomach to keep you flat.

"stay still," he commanded, his eyes boring into yours, cold and possessive as he shoved his sweapants and boxers down. "if you move, if you try to pull away, i'm going to make this so much worse for you."

he positioned himself and thrust into you, a blunt, unyielding entry that made you choke on a sob. he was fucking you with a rhythm that felt more like punishment than pleasure, his hips slamming into yours with a hard, repetitive force that rattled your teeth. every time you tried to buck your hips or push him away, he just leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat, his hand tightening around your jaw to force your head to the side.

"fuck, you're so dumb" he groaned, his voice rough and breathless.

"coming in here, begging for this while i'm working. you knew i was on edge. you knew i'd take it out on you."

he gripped your hips, his thumbs digging into your skin, bruisingly firm as he pounded into you deeper, harder. his face was a mask of cold intensity, his eyes tracking every flicker of pain and desire on your face.

"look at me" he hissed, his pace quickening as he felt you tightening around him. "don't you dare close your eyes. i want you to see exactly who's doing this to you. i want you to remember that your body belongs to me whenever i decide to take it."

he grabbed your hair again, pulling hard so you were forced to stare up at him while he destroyed you. "scream if you want" he muttered, his thrusts becoming sloppy and desperate, hitting that spot over and over until your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. "it's not like anyone is coming for you. you're just mine to break whenever i'm stressed, aren't you?"