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“You know… struggling really isn’t going to help you right now.”


He has her on the floor, bending her body over on the concrete, knees scratching against bloodstained stone. She’s supposed to be stronger than this, but the only thing she can think of past the noise in her head is how one of his hands is large enough to crush both of her wrists within its palm and how the sound of his voice right against her ear is making her sick.


He takes the hilt of his sword and shoves it right against her ass, and suddenly, she has yet another thing to consider.


“Don’t you think it’s romantic?” he asks as he nips at her ear. “You and I, like this, beside his body?”


“You sick freak.”


The hilt fills her almost immediately in response, and it takes everything in her power to keep herself from screaming.


“A little more respect, Naoto-chan. I’m your senpai, after all.”


And she chokes back a sob when his fingers press against the lips of her entrance, coaxing them apart to begin their work.