The Favorite- Front Man x Reader- Squid Game

Part 59:

(Same triggers apply as the previous chapter but more stuff happens of course 🫤 There is also a great deal of violent themes)

(Y/N's POV)

His hands were on my body. My neck felt as limp as a cooked noodle, so I had to let it rest before being able to keep my head up. The corner of the counter was digging into the place my hair ended on the back of my head. It was uncomfortable, and I could feel the soldier's hands traveling up from my upper waist. I weakly tried to reach my hands up to grab his arms, but he swatted me away like a fly and my limbs dropped back. He ran his hands over my breasts, getting a handful and squeezing them roughly. I flinched and let out noises of protests, trying desperately to push him off, but I was so tired, and he was completely unaffected.

I tried in vain to think of something that would get me out of this, but my knees still went up, trying to connect with any part of his body that would hurt him enough to stop. This just annoyed him, and he groaned before getting off of me a little and pinning my legs down with his body. This made his ... thing press into my groin area, and I whined. I just wanted this to stop, but I could feel his physical desire to take me. I prayed that it wouldn't be the case, but the situation was looking grim right now.

Only a fraction of my full consciousness was regained over this period, but I was still out of it. Thankfully, he only ran his hands over me, getting his fill of touch. I say thankfully because I knew that there were a hell of a lot worse things that he could do to me that I wouldn't be able to stop, and right now, this seemed like the best worst-case scenario. I still weakly fought him, but he just got madder. He gripped my throat, and I felt intense pressure put on the sides of my throat as well as a light force via his thumb pressing into my windpipe. I struggled to breathe, and all I could take were shallow gasps for air. He used his other hand to snake down my body, and I thrashed against him, trying to get him off. I brought my arms up to his hand and dug my nails into his gloves as hard as I can so I could be free. I pushed into it as hard as I could, and he hissed in pain, bringing his arm back, and I felt air rush into my lungs. He shook his hand off and groaned.

"Stupid bitch!" He yelled.

He brought his balled fist down on my face hard, and it collided with my cheekbone. I yelled in pain, already feeling the bruise start to form. The blood rushing to the spot only made it more painful and it felt hot. Tears pricked my eyes, and I could tell he felt satisfied seeing me like this. He shook his hand off one last time and covered my mouth with it.

"Not so tough now, are you?" He snarled, coming closer to my face. "Now be a good girl and don't fight."

I shook my head furiously, still trying to get him off of me because that's all I wanted in this moment. He seemed to be even more pissed off by this, and he released my mouth before punching me again. This time, it was lower, but still the same side. One of his knuckles hit my lips, and I could feel them pulsing in pain. He got most of my lower face, and now it hurt to move my mouth. I only whimpered, feeling a few tears run down. He grinned down at me in satisfaction and moved both of his hands to my lower half. I squirmed, but I didn't know what else I could do. Being hit in the head multiple times over the course of these few minutes were really getting to me, and I let my head fall back again. I didn't know how I kept it up all of this time, but I just knew "not anymore". I let it fall back and I felt his gross hands on the sides of my thighs. I wanted so desperately to fight back, but I knew it would just make things worse for me.

         He pried my legs apart and got between them, standing up straight, still holding my thighs. He ran them farther back, groping my ass just as he did my boobs. I whimpered quietly, close to crying from something other than my injuries. I watched intently as his black bangs hung over his eyes as he looked down at my body and how his discarded hood rested on his shoulder blades. I couldn't bear it anymore, and he moved his hands to the waistband of my pants. I almost screamed, and I didn't want any part of this. I wanted this to all be a nightmare. A terrible, terrible nightmare that I would wake up from at any second. But I knew that my hopes were unfounded.

         Pulling my waistband down, it revealed my cotton f/c underwear. More tears fell from my eyes, and my head went back. I shut my eyes, hoping that I would be saved by something, anything, but I wasn't. He grabbed my wrists and pulled me farther from the counter, my thighs now hanging off of it and my neck having the support it needed. He exposed my stomach by pulling up my top, and I started crying more. I let out quiet sobs as he yanked me up roughly by the back of my neck and tore my shirt off of my body, the ripped (color) article of clothing was discarded to the side, and I followed it with my eyes. It landed less than gracefully, but it still gave me a distraction from my reality. All that was covering my body was my f/c undergarments.

       I reluctantly looked back at him and he was staring down at my chest with a hunger in his eyes that made me sick to my stomach. He wrapped his arms around me and pushed me with his hips and his arm strength back onto the counter, this time not on an angle, causing my head to hit something. I made no verbal indications, and I instead arched my back and neck to see what it was. I saw the top of a black metal box. It was the mini-fridge.

        The disgusting man then trailed up my body with kisses, and I had to hold in my sobs. I had an idea. I reached behind me as unnoticeably as I can, and gripped the object. I hoped it was light. The man had reached my neck and was kissing it aggressively. I had to hold my tongue and with all the strength I could summon, I gripped the thing with a vengeance and picked it up. It was heavy, and I prayed it wouldn't slip out of my hand, and somebody must have been listening.

        As hard as I can, I swung it down towards his head. Since he was in such close proximity to me, I hit myself as well, and feeling the force of the impact on me, I was hurt and relieved at the same time because I knew that it was a good hit. He yelled right by my ear and pulled back, holding his head and stumbled around, confused. Taking this opportunity of him being off of me, I slid off of the counter and landed on my shaky legs, knees buckling. It took all of my strength and willpower to stand up straight, and I turned, picking up the mini-fridge. I walked towards the injured soldier, and I felt the cord pop out of the outlet. I brought it over my head and hit him with it again. He lost his balance and fell to the floor, barely moving like an insect that you stomped on but still barely hung onto its life and squirmed. That's what he was. A pest.

       I kneeled down, hurting my knees in the process from the force and hit him in the head with it again. His hood had fallen up onto half of his head from his fall, and I could see a visible interference in the uniformity of the back of his head. A dent was appearing, and his dark hair appeared sticky and clumped together from the blood. After I hit him for the last time, I was sure he couldn't have survived past that. I heaved, trembling, and threw the mini fridge to the side. It made a deafening crash, but it didn't matter. I scooted back away from the dead body, and my back hit the wall of the counter. I rested my head against it and started sobbing hysterically, bringing my legs up to my chest and burying my face in my knees.

    Original Publish Date: October 4, 2023