Warning: This story includes graphic descriptions of rape and violence, as well as self-harm/suicidal tendencies.
"Nishishi~! Momo-chan's sooo stupid!"
Ouma had spent his day thus far pestering Momota to no end. The astronaut's temper was terrible enough without the supreme leader grating on his nerves, so he'd taken the liberty of inviting the smaller student to his room for negotiations; to establish a peace treaty, if you will.
"I am not! And stop calling me that!"
Evidently, progress was not being made in their relationship. That being said, neither of the two most stubborn people in the Academy would ever consider throwing in the towel.
"Kai-chan, then!"
Throwing shade and punches, however, was another story entirely.
"Why you-!" Momota raised his fist angrily. "You better shut the hell up or else!"
"Or else what?" Ouma taunted. "Is idiot-chan gonna rough me up?" A dramatic gasp, "is that why you brought me to your dorm room? Or maybe you're gonna-" he was interrupted when Momota swung at him, but managed to quickly step out of the way. "Gosh Kai-chan, you're just super predictable!"
What Ouma didn't predict, however, was for Momota to grip him by the shoulders and slam him against the wall with a shout of "SHUT UP!"
Snapping out of a momentary stupor, Ouma sneered. "Make me."
Famous last words.
Momota took both of Ouma's wrists in one hand, pinning them above his head, an action that made the smaller boy very uncomfortable. He squirmed as Momota moved closer, trapping Ouma with his body. Grabbing the supreme leader's chin to tilt his gaze upwards, the astronaut growled menacingly, "shut the fuck up and get on your goddamn knees."
Ouma put all of his concentration into what came out as strangled laughter and a nervous smile. "S-Silly Kai-chan, supreme leaders don't take orders!" The small boy's life flashed before his eyes as Momota drew a thin knife from his pocket, the tip just centimeters from the flesh of his throat. "Ah...checkmate, then." Attempting to spare what shreds of dignity he still had, Ouma slowly dropped to his knees, figuring Momota just wanted him to bow or something. Worse things could happen, he figured, like having to-
The astronaut then reached down to unzip his fly.
Oh, fuck.
"Suck it," Momota ordered, tapping the tip of his cock against the leader's lips. "Make that stupid mouth of yours useful for once."
Fearful of the not-so-subtle threat against his life, Ouma hesitantly parted his lips, cringing as Momota's dick slid between them. As luck would have it, the astronaut was definitely not small. Tentatively, he ran his tongue over the tip, shuddering at the awful taste. He wasn't ashamed to admit he had no idea what he was doing. It's not as though supreme leaders make a habit of sucking dick, after all.
Regardless of Ouma's feelings on the matter, however justified they were, Momota was as impatient as ever. Taking a fistful of soft purple locks, he jerked his hips forward, shoving his length down Ouma's throat. As the leader gagged, tears welling up in his wide eyes, Momota pulled back just enough to let him breathe. He smirked, tightening his grip on Ouma's hair, and tilted the small boy's head back. "You don't mind if I borrow this, do you?"
Ouma's eyes held a gleam that said that yes, he most certainly did mind, but Momota ignored this- or rather, didn't care- in favor of relentlessly fucking the small boy's mouth.
Simultaneously fighting against his gag reflex and his tear ducts, Ouma could hardly even process what was happening. Between Momota's grunts of please and the increasingly sharp tugs on his hair, the supreme leader really just wanted it to end.
Well, as they say, be careful what you wish for.
To say that Momota's cum tasted awful would've been the understatement of the year. To say that Ouma disliked having it run down his throat would've been the understatement of the fucking century.
"I'll give you a minute before we move on."
Momota then released his hair and took a step back, chuckling in sadistic amusement as Ouma fell to his hands and knees, retching violently. The boy's stomach heaved and his entire form shook, desperate to expel such an unwanted intrusion. A multitude of possible questions and clever retorts raced through his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to choke out a single word. He was exhausted, but from the looks of things, Momota was as energized as ever.
Not that it would take much energy to sling someone of his stature onto a bed just by grabbing onto one of his (unhealthily thin) arms, but still.
Normally, Ouma was plenty quick on his feet, and would've easy leapt off the bed, dodged past Momota, and ran as far away as possible. That being said, this was not a normal situation, and Ouma was in enough of a daze that he may as well have allowed the astronaut to climb on top of him. For the second time, Ouma found his hands pinned above his head. Unlike earlier, however, a faint click signified that his hands had been cuffed around one of the bedposts.
His victim now incapable of fighting back, Momota reached for the dictator's scarf, sharply yanking it off his neck. He didn't hesitate to then stuff it into Ouma's mouth and tie it behind his head, effectively gagging the pale boy.
Said boy was not a fan of this treatment, but who said Momota gave a damn?
Harsh reality began to sink in as the astronaut tugged off his pants, then chuckled. "Dude, what the fuck is up with those boxers?" He removed those too, and Ouma's face flushed with was a supreme leader for God's sake; this was humiliating!
It took a minute for Momota to undo all the intricate buttons and clasps on his almost-a-straitjacket, having to deal with his kicking all the while, and Ouma couldn't help but chalk that up as a small victory.
His fragile, bony body was bare for the world to see, so he'd take what he could get.
Momota's eyes raked down Ouma's pale chest, sending a shiver through the small boy's form. He shook his head in protest as the astronaut forced his thighs apart, pulling at the restraints on his wrists. He whimpered, eyes wide with terror.
Momota clearly had no intention of prepping him in any way.
"Heh, fear looks good on you, Ouma." Momota smirked, lining up their hips. "All that talk of being an evil leader yet here you are, completely at my mercy."
He thrust forward.
"Now, take it."
No gag would have been able to entirely muffle Kokichi Ouma's screams as Momota pushed himself deeper and deeper into the small boy. Make no mistake, the dictator most certainly could handle pain (as expected from someone who continues to scheme after being shot through the spine with a poisoned arrow), but this violation hurt.
Momota's hands held his legs in place, spreading him wide open. It made Ouma painfully aware of how small and helpless this body of his was. The taller boy groaned, unaffected by the shorter's cries. "Damn you're tight. Are you a virgin?" His smirk grew. "Sorry, let me rephrase that. Were you a virgin, Kokichi?"
The question hit him like a slap to the face; Momota had stolen something priceless from him, and he would never be able to take it back. For the first time since founding DICE, Kokichi Ouma had no control over his situation. He was being split in half, torn apart from the inside out. His insides were on fire. What little resolve he'd been desperately grasping shattered, and tears streamed down his cheeks.
Seeing the supreme leader in tears was an uncommon sight, so Momota egged him on. "I know you can't really scream right now, but if you could, you know nobody would care, right? Not a single person in this school gives a shit about you, not even your 'beloved Saihara-chan.'" Momota laughed as Ouma's shoulders shook with muffled sobs, the painful truths- he believed them after all- slicing his heart into pieces. "Now let's say you go and tell someone," a particularly rough thrust, "do you honestly think they'll believe you? Nobody in their right mind would take anything you say at face value. So I'll keep fucking you like the pathetic little bitch you are, and you can't do a damn thing about it!"
The pain, though still strong, had lost its edge as time went on. It was less like being stabbed with a burning dagger and more like that dull ache when your stamina is at its limit but you still keep running and everything is starting to feel numb and your vision is spotty from exhaustion, blurry from tears, and your chest hurts and you can't breathe and-
And the man raping you just told you he's going to cum, with no intention of pulling out.
At some point while he was being pounded into the mattress, Ouma's struggling had loosened the tie on his scarf, the makeshift gag falling onto the sheets. His sobs were audible now as he begged "please, n-not that. A-Anything but that." Momota only grinned, mocking the small boy.
"What, you don't want me to cum inside?" His grin fell, a deadly stare piercing into Ouma's soul. "This is your fault, Kokichi. You asked for this. Now you're gonna finish what you started." The astronaut's grip on the other's waist grew extensively rougher, leaving fingerprint bruises on the evil leader's pale skin.
Ouma pulled against the handcuffs once more, blood oozing from his wrists as he tried desperately to get away. For all his resistance, however, he had begun to believe his tormentor's words. Nobody will care, even if I scream. Because I...deserve this. I deserve this pain. I deserve…
All thoughts came to a screeching halt as Momota gave one final thrust, flooding his insides with a nauseating warmth. His mind and visage were both utterly blank as the astronaut stood, clothed only himself, removed the handcuffs, and left the room.
Ouma curled into a tight ball, shivering, as the substance dripped down his thighs and stained his sheets. He couldn't move, couldn't even cry. His broken spirit shut down completely, sending him into a fitful, restless sleep.
I deserve to be used.