[i don't know when the fuck this is set but who the hell cares, its porn]

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

It's the fifth time Kaito's asked it since barging into Ouma's room with the full intention to beat the shit out of this kid, but this time, it's accompanied by a hand to Ouma's throat and enough lift to leave his feet dangling a foot off the ground. It's no Maki and her (excellently) tight grip, sure, but the attempt is good enough for Ouma to reward him with a very characteristic sneer and a soft, mocking tone to his voice.

"Momota-chan... were you too stupid to hear me the first time I told you? Do you need to ask again? Do you?" That snake-like, tight lipped smile almost crept up to his ears. "I'll be kind and answer again so you can maybe understand it this time."

He takes Katio's growling silence as an invitation to smile wider and increase his volume to a half shout.

"Your pain, your misery, your suffering, alllll of it is just- so-"

"-SHUT UP, JUST- SHUT THE HELL UP-"

He shakes the boy like a puppet in his hand, knocking Ouma's head against the wall twice in quick succession, a move that makes him yelp out in convincingly fake pained surprise.

"Pain? Misery? You think you like pain and misery, you psycho freak? You think all of this is funny?"

Bam, bam. This time, when his head hits the wall for a third time in the same spot and he sees stars, Ouma's face flashes an expression of actual pain.

Something about that small slip of truthful emotion made something snap in Kaito, and his grip around Ouma's neck grew tighter. Between the pain at the back of his head and the firmness of Kaito's fingers, it's become impossible to breathe for either of them to breathe normally.

"Did you like that? Did you like being hurt?"

Before he knows it, or is even able to pull himself out of the blurriness his vision went to, he's unceremoniously thrown onto his bed head first with his legs left dangling over the edge. Before he can make get to his better senses and resist, Kaito's hand is around Ouma's neck again, pressing him into the mattress and almost completely cutting him off from oxygen, and his knee is abruptly and roughly shoved into the tender space between his groin and his inner thigh.

"Let's see how much you like it when it's happening to you, you son of a bitch!"

Ouma's shirt is ripped off first. Kaito's free hand tears at the staples holding his jacket coat together and the garmet is easily torn open in one fell swoop. Ouma barely feels the coldness of the room against his pale, bare chest between the edges of his vision starting to blacken and the pain at his groin. It's a testament to his ability to fake emotions on cue that he manages to make an extremely pitiful and yet extremely unconvincing expression up at Kaito tearing his clothes off above him, with big watery droplets forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Momota-chan, what are y-you doing... stop..."

As soon as Kaito has reached his belt, Ouma somehow manages to find enough strength to grip a hand around the one at his throat with the intention to pull it off. It's mostly useless- Ouma is small in stature and weak in muscle, his ribcage easily visible when his chest is exposed like this- but it's enough to give him enough air to miserably squeak out more teary, shaky, and purposefully pathetic pleas.

"Please, j-just stop....! I'm sorry!..."

"I SAID SHUT UP."

Kaito stops pulling the waistband of Ouma's pants down for just enough time to put him solidly across the face. Ouma gasps for air against Kaito's hand immediately afterward, choking down coughs that rattle his thin chest.

He doesn't even bother pulling Ouma's pants all the way off. It's enough for Kaito to leave them sloppily sagging at his ankles before he's unzipping his own pants. Looking over Ouma's pale, gasping body, even with his thin waist, there's nothing there that can get him hard besides his sheer hatred of Ouma and resulting willingness to tear him apart. He brings himself to an erection with a quick few strokes of his dick, and it is at this point that Ouma's mind starts to wrap itself around what is going to happen to him. A deep, clenching despair, nothing like he's ever felt before, pools in his stomach.

There's no warning, no gentleness and no preparation before he spreads Ouma's thin legs apart with a rough shove and enters him with a slam of his hips. Ouma's scream of surprised, mangled and choking pain is entirely genuine, and his entire body writhes against Kaito's hips and hands in a completely useless struggle to make him take it out. He gnashes his teeth, chokes out half words and half sobs, thrashes his head from left to right. He kicks his legs in front of him, tries to slam his knees against the sides of Kaito's torso, flails his arms to Kaito's face, chest and stomach, trying to do anything and everything to make him take it out, to make him stop. This pain is going to break him, and he just knows it.

When Kaito starts thrusting his dick in and out of him in rapid succession, however, is when the pain he thought was the worst thing he has ever felt is replaced by something even impossibly greater. His cries and screams are replaced by scattered, gasping breathing, and instead of active resistance to the assault, Ouma's body can do nothing but writhe and twist with every thrust. With every gripping squeeze to his throat, smack to his bruised cheeks and wayward punch to his stomach, groin and dick, he feels less and less strength in his limbs and his will to resist Kaito's assault drains as quickly as the blood from his head.

Sometime, between flashes of pain and Kaito's thrusts, he realizes that his tears weren't being summoned purposefully. They flow down his cheeks freely and without restraint as his eyes become fixed in a wide, blank stare past Kaito's head and up at the spinning ceiling above him. He realizes that he has become completely immobile besides the unintentional movement of his body that's caused by Kaito slamming his dick inside of him. He also realizes, without looking or intending to, that he himself has gotten hard as a result of Kaito's hips brushing up against his cock- or perhaps because there is some twisted and sick pleasure his body is getting out of Kaito's dick roughly thrusting inside him. There's a final, wonderfully sickening realization: that the wetness around the inside of his thighs is not sweat, but blood.

Amidst the movement of Kaito's hips and his own gasping breaths, he can get only a single word out.

"Stop..."

And then Ouma smiles a deeply broken, twisted smile, his tongue sliding to the corner of his mouth and out. It hurts. It hurts so, so much. It hurts in his ass, in his groin, his dick, around his neck, on his chest, in the inner sides of his thighs- it hurts worse than everything he's ever experienced in this game or in his life. It's a greater pain than anything he could've possibly imagined.

So this is true despair.

Without him wanting to, or even realizing he was so close, Ouma's back arches midway through one of Kaito's thrusts, he squeezes his teary eyes shut, gasps out a rattling breath, and he feels the warm stickiness of cum shoot onto his stomach. The clenching of Ouma's thighs in this tensing is enough to bring Kaito to cumming quickly afterward, and the warm, disgusting fluid he feels on his skin is replicated inside him.

Kaito releases Ouma's neck and pulls himself out of the body as quickly and unceremoniously as he pushed himself inside. He looks down at the quietly giggling, gasping and sobbing Ouma underneath him, sees the mixture of blood, sweat and cum pooling at the base of his naked bruised thighs, and cannot hide the horror, disgust and regret that is plastered across his face.

"...You actually shut up."