Absolutely not. ~{ Michael Afton x Male Reader}~

~15~

Content warnings:

S/a. Abuse. 

Kennith fucking sucks. He's genuinely so horrible and awful. Writing scenes with him in it genuinely make me feel sick irl, which i think i was going for in the first place. I can't wait for you guys to find out what ends up happening to him in the end (of the book I mean.)

Next few chapters are going to end up being very um.. Evil. If you are still here, you're either very interested in phycological horror, true crime, or you are really into learning about complex trauma. To be honest, I didn't think this book was ever going to go in this direction; but it did. And here we are. Enjoy. I guess. 

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(Y/n) Pov.

" I slowly turn the knob.. And enter."

      When I enter, Kennith is sitting on my couch. He watches me with a cold and calculating gaze. Watching. "You're late." He states. I can't do anything. I stand there. Frozen. Kennith stares at me for a moment, before standing. "Sit." He demands. I finally muster the courage to say something. "I... I have work..." I mutter. He chuckles menacingly. "No you don't. You only have work during the weekend." I feel my heart drop to my stomach. "I told you not to pull anything... Didn't I?" He says with blood curdling sweetness. He inches closer. I find myself trapped in the corner of the room. I feel the hinges dig into my spine. I can't get away. There's nothing I can do. His steps are calculated, yet mindless as he weaves his way through my mess as though he's done it a thousand times.

      "Go sit. I wouldn't want to make you." I look up at him with utter fear. What is he going to do to me? What does he want? He hums. "I wouldn't want to make you.." He repeats. I cower further into the corner. "Kennith.. Please leave.." I beg pitifully. I never thought that I would ever beg for mercy. Especially from him. He scoffs. "What do I have to... Ugh." He gets closer. Visibly pissed. I scoot further into the wall. "Plea-"

SLAM.

       I yelp as he slams a palm next to my face. "I told you to go sit. So you have two options. Be a good little bitch and sit on the couch or..." He tilts my head upwards. "Would you rather be punished..?" He grins. He's fucking mental. I shove him off.. Or attempt to at least. Where the fuck is my adrenaline when I need it? His expression turns cold. "...Or I can make you be good.. Hm..?" He hums. I scramble to look for some sort of exit. "I know what you're into y'know.." I fucking hate him. I don't want him near me. I want to go.. Home.. I can't do this anymore. I miss mom. I miss dad. I want it to all be over. I want to forget that any of this even happened. My vision starts to swim. I have to fight for myself. "Get.. Get out.." I whisper.

SLAP.

     I feel an intense sting rest in my cheek. I can't move. "Go sit on the fucking couch." I stare at the floor in utter shock. "I won't ask again." He says sternly. A tear strays down my face. "...Fine." I mutter. He gives a short look of agitation before moving out of the way. I shakily sit on my couch; staring at the ground in utter fear. "That wasn't so hard.. Was it now..?" His voice has returned to the sickening sweet. I don't respond. "Was it?" He asks again. This time it was more harsh. "...No.." I mutter. He grins in victory. I hate this. I hate him. "Good boy." I clutch the fabric on my legs. No. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. He chuckles. Suddenly Kennith is directly next to me. Touching me. "You like that.. Don't you..?" He sets a hand on my leg. NO. NO. It slides up. "No need to be so tense..~" He coos.

     "Stop." I huff. He doesn't. He keeps going. More tears drip down my face. "God you're so pretty when you cry.." He caresses my face. I can't speak. I physically cannot put my thoughts into words. I want to throw up. "Hmm... I wish i could fuck you right now.. But I can't.." He mutters in slight disappointment. I hate him. I hate him. Get. Out. "Why don't you go take a shower.. Hm..? It's been a couple of days.." I hate that he knows. He knows everything about me. I hate it. I've never wanted to be desired less. I hate him. I stand, he stands as well. He rests his hands on an odd place on my ribs. I Hate him. I hate him. I FUCKING HATE HIM.

     "Go on, (Y/n)... Don't be too long.. Mkay..?" He coos. I don't move. "Am I understood..?" He rubs the spot. "Get off." I demand. He doesn't comply. "Don't be like that. Answer me." He states coldly. I can feel his breath against my ear. I hate him. "Get out." He starts crushing my ribs. It hurts. "I don't want to have to punish you.." He says in the same tone as earlier, but this time significantly more menacing. More threatening. I don't want to know what his sick idea of a punishment is. He keeps pressing harder. ".. no... I won't be too long.." I whimper. Voice uneven. I want him out. "What a good boy..~" His grip loosens, and he rubs my sides a bit. Kennith lets go of me, so I run to the bathroom. Quick to lock the door. 

     I want to scrub his hands off of my fucking body.

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A/n.

Goodnight.