Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ And Then She Cried ❯ The Smirking Man ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, all right? I've written six billion disclaimers in my life. They get irritating after a while, you know.

Warning: Graphic rape, slightly angsty (well duh, it's a rape story), slight PWP

***

It was the middle of the night, and very dark. Surprise rains came and went in this place, and right now a surprise rain had just left one petite young woman very drenched indeed.

Her bare feet skidded on the slick rocks, and she fell. She cursed as she landed hard on the palms of her hands, her dripping wet auburn hair rumpling around her face. Her peculiarly golden eyes flashed eerily with frustration as she got unsteadily to her feet, shivering in the chill.

A diaphanous fabric was tied around her chest and below her shoulders, reaching her knees and shining wraithlike white against her tanned skin. Over it she wore a red coat, which seemed much too big for her. Other than that she wore nothing.

Trying to seem casual, she glanced around. Her golldeneyes were like cat's eyes, and she could see quite well in the dark.

Hmm...It seemed she had fallen further than she expected. She was in the middle of a town, it seemed. The thought that she could get help here crossed her mind, but she shook it away. She was proud and willful, and would starve before asking for help.

"Well, well, what have we here?"

Surprised, she turned around, and immediately found herself pressed against a wall by her wrists. She fought against the powerful hands, but to no avail. With her most formidable glare, she inspected the person in front of her.

He was a man. Tall and muscled, but slim, with wild blonde hair and disturbing periwinkle eyes. But even more disturbing than those bulbous eyes that had no pupils was his grin. From his grin alone she could see his intent.

"Pretty eyes," the man remarked. "Odd coloring. What's your name? What business does a little kitten like you have roaming the streets this late?"

"My name is Christina and I'll thank you to let go of me."

The man smirked in reply. "I don't like your attitude. I'm too familiar with it. I see we're going to have to do something about it."

Fear filled Christina's heart, but it was replaced by infuriation. "Let go of me!" she shouted, her entire body flexing with effort as she tried to get free. She could see her struggles only amused him, and at last she stopped.

"Fuck you!" she yelled, trying to calm her thumping heart.

The smirk grew gleeful. "I'm not the one who's fucked," he replied, and chuckled sinisterly. "But," his voice lowered a note, his eyes skimming her curves-and though she was skinny, she had decent enough curves. "You're about to be."

"Y...You wouldn't dare," she challenged, trying to convince her more than him.

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

In a swift move, almost without thinking, she brought her knee up roughly against his groin.

"Bitch!" he shrieked, furious, pulling back with surprise and pain. "You'll pay for that!"

Terrified and furious, she turned and fled.

He smirked and raised a weird golden stick with a winged ball at the end. "Still trying to flee?" he snarled. "Pitiful."

In mid-step, Christina was halted. Her entire body went entirely still, and her urgent struggling was fully unsuccessful-she couldn't move an inch.

The man circled her, and she could see something like merriment glittering in his spine-chilling bluish eyes. It disgusted her.

"I had another girl in this position once-she was more of a woman, really," he said gleefully. His eyes were wild, filled with a crazed lust that was almost animalistic in its one visible desire. "Beautiful, stubborn, fearless, cunning. Twice in my life did I get the wonderful opportunity to see her vulnerable and susceptible to my every whim." His voice became a snarl. "Do you want to know what I did to her?"

Without warning, he ripped off her red coat and pushed her onto the street.

Despite her inner desire to fight, she was utterly helpless as he raised the staff and hooked the hem of her skirt on the tip of one of the axe-shaped wings. She lay utterly still as he lifted the filmy cloth. She didn't have any lingerie, so her privates were bared to the frigid night air as he pulled it up until the wing pushed between her breasts. He pulled it towards himself until the back snapped. Her striking golden eyes, the only part of her not immobilized, widened as she was fully undressed by this strange monster.

Then, to her utter humiliation and disbelief, she lifted her round full breasts up to him-sacrificing them, as if he were some sacrificial god. He smirked and bent his head, suckling the rosebuds. She couldn't even shiver, but she could shut her eyes as they filled up with humiliated tears.

He bent down, his spiky hair brushing against her silky thighs as he sniffed between them. His hands slipped from the curves of her breasts to her slim and taut belly and to the gentle swell of her hips.

His tongue slipped between her pubic lips, tasting the bunched muscle within. Soft moans filled her chests, but her lips refused to part.

The smirk never leaving his face, he rose up again to unbutton his pants. Her eyes widened as she saw the incredible size of his length. Grinning into her face, he lowered down again and thrust.

She wanted to scream as his thick sex parted her inner muscles, each jab filling her with anguish.

He bit into the curve of her neck, thrusting harder and faster. She felt her temperature rising as her aching inner sex clamped down hard upon his length. Moisture leaked from her distended and cruelly stretched pubic lips as the brutal friction continued.

The cruel curse broke suddenly as the orgasm hit her, coursing through her veins and blinding her with its intensity like a white-hot wall of flames. She exploded with release, a piercing cry of passion coming from deep within her as her muscles clamped down on him like a vice. He climaxed in a frenzy of quick, jerking movements as his thickness discharged its warm fluids inside of her.

The smirk never leaving his face, he lifted up from her and pulled up his pants, rebuttoning them with practiced motions. He grabbed the staff, pushed it into his belt, and left without a word.

Acutely aware of the anguish in her heart and the anguish between her thighs, Christina refused to cry.

Her fingers fumbling, she clumsily re-tied the now-filthy white fabric and pulled on the grubby red coat. Still refusing to let a tear fall from her golden eyes, she curled up in a dark alleyway were no one would see her and picked up a sharp rock incase someone did.

Then she cried.