A Series of One Shots
folder
Yu-Gi-Oh › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
74
Views:
28,130
Reviews:
422
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Yu-Gi-Oh › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
74
Views:
28,130
Reviews:
422
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Yami and Bakura: Rogue1979
AN: Rogue1979 asked for her 30th birthday today for a Yami x Bakura rape fic like 'release' with Yami's POV. Happy Birthday dear!
PATHOS
It wasn’t like he couldn’t feel anything. He could say he was numb. But it was an excuse—a pitiful excuse from a pitiful man. He knew what he was doing to me—he just didn’t care. And I hated him for it.
Those dirty nails clung onto my flesh like it was their dying will. The horrible, wretched sound of his flesh slapping against mine made bile rise in my throat that just wouldn’t go down.
I was trapped beneath this pathetic man who hisses as he slides his cock into me and laughs when I curse his name.
The ground is cold and wet beneath me. The tiny pieces of rock grind themselves into my skin. It’s raining. I’ve never hated rain so much. It feels like nature itself is mocking me, unwilling to give me the small comfort of calling out for help without rain quickly filling my lungs.
If someone walked by now—would they see how pathetic this thingwas with his pants pooled around his ankles like some juvenile thrusting stupidly into me?
“You’re pathetic, Bakura.”
He laughs—laughs as he pushes his cock deeper and digs it around.
“Saying those things makes me want to cum right now, pharaoh.” He mockingly adds.
This alley is dark but still forces enough light in for us to see each other. And it makes everything feel too...real. I don’t know what I want to do...scream, cry, or just puke my guts out—for my body to feel empty like my heart feels.
I’m so tired and time won’t move forward...I’m panicking. I don’t know when he’ll stop. My body is bruised and blood warms my shivering thighs. Bakura is dirty, his greasy hair looks even viler wet and the dirt from his nails stings the open wounds he’s left. My cock throbs as it grinds against his stomach—it sickens me.
His face is too close to mine and his breath stinks of moldy cigarettes and alcohol.
“Don’t touch me.” I hiss as he presses his chapped lips to my ear just so I can here the fucking pleasure he feels.
“I’m already touching you, fool,” he laughs, “even here.” He sneers the words, letting his fingertips brush the head of my cock. I quickly jerk away—terrified of the rush of pleasure. I choke on my vomit.
And again...
He laughs.
Half my body is numb—my arms have been pressed down too long now and my legs spread open wide like a whore. His cock pulses inside me and he’s wearing this pathetic expression—grinding his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut.
“I hate you.” I choke as he slams into me harder. My eyes sting from pain and humiliation.
“Well,” he grunts, digging his nails deeper, “I fucking hate you too.”
He groans long and hard, shuddering as he cums inside me—my body tightens from the pain—the insatiable stinging that drowns me in humiliation and pain. He leers down at me—like he’s waiting for praise. He looks at my cock, laughing,
“You fucking faggot.” He twists his fingernail into the slit and it feels like agony.
He licks the blood and precum from his nails, chuckling lightly as my hands weakly try to cover myself.
“Who do you think you are Bakura? To do thisto me?” I scream.
“You!” he laughs, “When will you admit it, pharaoh? You fucking lost! You’re here forever just like me in this shitty world.”
I finally cry. It hurts more than what he’s just done to me. My tears mix with the rain, masking my shame. I wanted to blame him for everything even if in the back of my mind I knew it was my fault. “If.”
If I had won.
If I had made it back home.
If Bakura had died.
If Yugi hadn’t needed me.
If someone walked by now—would they see how pathetic this thing?
Or would they see the person beneath him? The pathetic one who couldn’t even do anything about it?
AN: This story was written with a lot of reading between the lines for me. I hope you got some sense of it. But, here’s what I was thinking. Obviously, Yami lost, he didn’t win against Yugi he’s not in the afterlife. He and Bakura are stuck in our world until they grow old and die. Yami’s dead inside. I don’t for an instant think that Yami or Bakura feel anything for each other. Bakura doesn’t want to be stuck here either but he can at least get the satisfaction of making Yami feel as horrible as possible. Thus, the rapeage. I think Bakura finally struck the nerve with Yami when he reminded him he lost. Yami continues to call Bakura pathetic, but in the end he realizes that he is the pathetic one. ITS SO HARD TO WRITE POV FOR THE VICTIM! OTZ
PATHOS
It wasn’t like he couldn’t feel anything. He could say he was numb. But it was an excuse—a pitiful excuse from a pitiful man. He knew what he was doing to me—he just didn’t care. And I hated him for it.
Those dirty nails clung onto my flesh like it was their dying will. The horrible, wretched sound of his flesh slapping against mine made bile rise in my throat that just wouldn’t go down.
I was trapped beneath this pathetic man who hisses as he slides his cock into me and laughs when I curse his name.
The ground is cold and wet beneath me. The tiny pieces of rock grind themselves into my skin. It’s raining. I’ve never hated rain so much. It feels like nature itself is mocking me, unwilling to give me the small comfort of calling out for help without rain quickly filling my lungs.
If someone walked by now—would they see how pathetic this thingwas with his pants pooled around his ankles like some juvenile thrusting stupidly into me?
“You’re pathetic, Bakura.”
He laughs—laughs as he pushes his cock deeper and digs it around.
“Saying those things makes me want to cum right now, pharaoh.” He mockingly adds.
This alley is dark but still forces enough light in for us to see each other. And it makes everything feel too...real. I don’t know what I want to do...scream, cry, or just puke my guts out—for my body to feel empty like my heart feels.
I’m so tired and time won’t move forward...I’m panicking. I don’t know when he’ll stop. My body is bruised and blood warms my shivering thighs. Bakura is dirty, his greasy hair looks even viler wet and the dirt from his nails stings the open wounds he’s left. My cock throbs as it grinds against his stomach—it sickens me.
His face is too close to mine and his breath stinks of moldy cigarettes and alcohol.
“Don’t touch me.” I hiss as he presses his chapped lips to my ear just so I can here the fucking pleasure he feels.
“I’m already touching you, fool,” he laughs, “even here.” He sneers the words, letting his fingertips brush the head of my cock. I quickly jerk away—terrified of the rush of pleasure. I choke on my vomit.
And again...
He laughs.
Half my body is numb—my arms have been pressed down too long now and my legs spread open wide like a whore. His cock pulses inside me and he’s wearing this pathetic expression—grinding his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut.
“I hate you.” I choke as he slams into me harder. My eyes sting from pain and humiliation.
“Well,” he grunts, digging his nails deeper, “I fucking hate you too.”
He groans long and hard, shuddering as he cums inside me—my body tightens from the pain—the insatiable stinging that drowns me in humiliation and pain. He leers down at me—like he’s waiting for praise. He looks at my cock, laughing,
“You fucking faggot.” He twists his fingernail into the slit and it feels like agony.
He licks the blood and precum from his nails, chuckling lightly as my hands weakly try to cover myself.
“Who do you think you are Bakura? To do thisto me?” I scream.
“You!” he laughs, “When will you admit it, pharaoh? You fucking lost! You’re here forever just like me in this shitty world.”
I finally cry. It hurts more than what he’s just done to me. My tears mix with the rain, masking my shame. I wanted to blame him for everything even if in the back of my mind I knew it was my fault. “If.”
If I had won.
If I had made it back home.
If Bakura had died.
If Yugi hadn’t needed me.
If someone walked by now—would they see how pathetic this thing?
Or would they see the person beneath him? The pathetic one who couldn’t even do anything about it?
AN: This story was written with a lot of reading between the lines for me. I hope you got some sense of it. But, here’s what I was thinking. Obviously, Yami lost, he didn’t win against Yugi he’s not in the afterlife. He and Bakura are stuck in our world until they grow old and die. Yami’s dead inside. I don’t for an instant think that Yami or Bakura feel anything for each other. Bakura doesn’t want to be stuck here either but he can at least get the satisfaction of making Yami feel as horrible as possible. Thus, the rapeage. I think Bakura finally struck the nerve with Yami when he reminded him he lost. Yami continues to call Bakura pathetic, but in the end he realizes that he is the pathetic one. ITS SO HARD TO WRITE POV FOR THE VICTIM! OTZ