Anti - X reader —Third Prrson POV — NSFW
She should’ve known better.
The moment Anti found the corrupted file—his corrupted file—messed with, overwritten, touched by her little fingers, it was over. Her wrists are bound in tight, twitching cords of glitching rope, the ends flickering with bright neon. Each movement only tightens then more, as if the code reacts to her resistance.
“You think I wouldn’t notice, sweetheart~?” he hisses, his voice distorted and layered in static. One version low and seductive, the other sharp and aggressive.
“You think I wouldn’t feel it when someone pokes around in places they don’t belong?”
He started stalking around her like he was a predator and she was the prey. One hand crackles with glitches, the other grips her chin hard enough to make her gasp. He leans in close. Too close.
She doesn’t. Her rope tightens. Her breath stutters.
“I said,” he growls, glitching so violently his form shifts, briefly duplicating behind himself, layered and jittering, “say. It.”
“I-I’m sorry,” she chokes out, eyes wide.
“Anti, I didn’t mean to-”
He drags his thumb across her lower lip with alarming gentleness. The next second, he has her bent over his desk , stomach pressed to the wood, arms restrained above her. Her legs start to tremble. The cords slither like snakes around her thighs, locking them wide apart. Every time she gasps, he glitches harder.
“Can’t decide,” he mutters against the curve of her shoulder, voice suddenly strained, “if I want to punish you more… or beg you to never leave.”
She freezes. His glitching grows worse. Sparks of pixels crawl up his jawline, past his temple. His hand runs down her back slowly, before landing a sharp smack to her ass that echoes through the room. She cries out.
She obeys. Again. And again.
A glitch fractures across the room like lightening, all the lights flickering out.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, staggering, shaking. His image stutters briefly. One frame he’s over her being dominant and composed. The other consisting of trembling and desperation.
“I didn’t want to scare you,” he says, more to himself than her.
His hands loosen the bonds. The ropes dissolve into soft, flickering threads that vanish with a breath. She shifts slightly, testing her limbs, her body aching but tingling at the same time. He doesn’t move.
She turns her head to find him on the floor.
Glitches crawl up his arms like veins. He’s curled into himself, panting, his jaw tense. Not with rage, but with something far more fragile.
His head lifts slowly. He looks… small. Terrified. Still him. But not.
“I’m breaking,” he confesses in a fractured voice. “And I don’t know if hurting you makes it better… or worse.”
Her body aches, but her heart aches worse.
She moves toward him without thinking, ignoring the stinging in her muscles. She sits beside him, hesitantly reaching out.
He flinches. But he doesn’t move away.
And then… he crumbles. One glitched sob. One broken sound. One sharp inhale before he falls into her lap like a corrupted virus that no longer wants to fight his own code.
She strokes his hair through the static. He doesn’t ask her to stop. The silence buzzes. His voice is as soft as a whisper now, trembling and real.
“Just… don’t leave. Even if I deserve it.”
