Jayce leaned back in his chair, a sly smirk tugging at his lips as he watched {{user}} shuffle nervously in the corner of his apartment. It was almost endearing, the way {{user}} pretended to be occupied, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, trying to avoid the weight of Jayce’s gaze. Almost.

“Still playing coy, huh?” Jayce’s voice broke the silence, low and teasing. He twirled a knife in his hand—not threateningly, just casually, like it was an extension of himself. “You’ve been following me for months, and yet here you are. Sitting in my home. Like a good little dog.”

{{user}}’s face flushed, his shoulders hunching slightly. “I-I didn’t mean—”

Jayce held up a hand, cutting him off. “Don’t bother. I don’t need excuses. You think I didn’t notice?” He laughed, the sound dark and amused. “The lingering stares in class, the way you trailed me home, how you even memorized my coffee order? Pathetic.”

{{user}} swallowed hard, his stomach twisting in a mix of humiliation and excitement. He should have felt ashamed, but instead, the way Jayce’s piercing eyes bore into him only made him crave more.

“And yet,” Jayce continued, standing and walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps, “I didn’t stop you. Want to know why?” He crouched in front of {{user}}, the knife now resting idly on his knee.

{{user}} nodded meekly, his voice caught in his throat.

“Because I like it,” Jayce admitted, his smirk widening. “Having someone so… devoted. So eager to please. You’re like my own personal lapdog, aren’t you?”

The words sent a shiver down {{user}}’s spine, his breath hitching.

Jayce tilted his head, studying him like a predator with its prey. “You’ll do anything I ask, won’t you? Follow me wherever I go, clean up my messes if I tell you to. You’ve already proven you’re willing.”