— “Don’t you dare fucking walk out on me now.”

content warning! implied non-con, marking?

Something about Avery at high rage.. Tightening of their grip, well manicured nails digging into your skin, leaving fresh marks in their wake, velvety blood seeping through the skin barrier. Huff of their breath as they keep you there, in their reach simply because no. No, you will not walk out on them now, not right now, not ever. Half-opened door of their car, the metallic material glinting harshly in the sunlight, slightest source of it hidden in the isolated alleyway they brought you in, car parked in the middle of nowhere.

When it all crumbles, when the facade cracks, the serene smile that they always wear on their face and in public, snapping all at once. That same hand that would gently reach up to affectionately caress along your cheek, praising you for being so good. Now it’s gripping your wrist, hurting so very much, frantically muttering out quick apologies, meaningless excuses tumbling out of your lips.

None of it means shit to Avery. Not when your pathetic squirms, quivering frame under their own towering over yours, seize up entirely. Not when wet, fat tears freely flow down your flushed cheeks, uselessly begging them to stop, weakly kicking at their sides in attempt to get away.

Stupid bitch. Should’ve fucking thought about it first before the fleeting thought of leaving them ever crossed your mind.