you hated the dark, before, when you jumped onto your mattress from the doorway as soon as you flicked the light switch. before, when a small salt lamp projected a soft hue against the walls and water pooled around its base. before, when you nearly tripped over yourself as you jogged from light post to light post on your way home. before, when he had thrown you in the first time. when the heavy door shut tight and you had no choice but to feel your way to the nearest wall, dirt sticking beneath your nails.
after that, light was a privilege — if you could call it that. it was a fleeting sight that hurt your eyes and forced them closed, only ever managing to see his silhouette walking into the room with eerie nonchalance. he never turned the lights on. the only time you had ever seen him was when he wrapped his arms around your neck, the other snaking around your waist to throw you into the back of an average looking black car. you saw his hair and plump pink lips, his nose and his eyelashes that fanned across his face, the moles that were scattered across his cheeks.
at first, you trembled in fear, eyes opening as wide as they could as if it would somehow aid you when not a single ray of light surpassed the bolted door. you blinked your eyes and pushed your palms against your eyelids until flashes of color appeared in front of you. now, you sit still, occasionally blinking when you have the energy to open your eyes. though, sometimes you aren’t aware you’d opened them until your waterlines touch.
you can see him, but only just. the light isn’t blinding which somehow makes it all worse. you have no excuse to shut your eyes and a part of you doesn’t want to. a part of you wants to absorb every single ray of light. take in every inch of your enclosure as you can before he leaves. you can finally see the carvings in the walls that you routinely ran your fingers against, trying to decipher the words. you can see the dirt on the ground and the piles of pebbles you tossed. but you can also see his ears. you can see the bead of sweat trickling down his throat. you can see the occasional flash of his eyes when his hair jumps a little too much, his irises impossibly dark and deep. you can see his lips that appear as plump and pink as you remember.
the light only seeps through the crack beneath the door, something he was usually careful about avoiding, but it seems his eagerness to attack you made him sloppy this time. as soon as he walked in he was on you. there was no cruel game of him searching for you, making kissing noises as if summoning an obedient puppy while you crawled from corner to corner to escape his nimble fingers.
it’s strange experiencing all of it. the taste of his tongue, the scent of his sweat, the feel of his calloused fingertips and his cock splitting you open, and now, the sight of his mouth hanging open as a whiny moan bubbles from his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his front teeth peaking past his lips. you can even see your own skin, your palms raw from rubbing, your fingernails brittle and broken, dirt clinging to your forearm.
his hands grip meanly at your naked hips, fingers trembling as he pants, dipping his head into your neck, licking up the side to your ear. your eyes fell to his back, seeing the strain of his back muscles against his t-shirt, watching his hips rut up and down with fervor, confined in a loose pair of jeans. you wish it was dark again.
for: @revehae because why not 🫶🏼 (it’s actually a reminder to stop neglecting your man for mine #freewonbin. open your eyes, nisha, your man is over there.)
"i'm not doing it, jeno" you grimace, brows cinched together in disgust as you struggle against the firm hand tangled in your hair. jeno's pants are strained, bulge pushing and pulsing against the dark material.
jeno simply huffs, shifting in withering chair he was always glued to when you were around. he wordlessly reaches for the button of his pants right below your nose, popping it. the material slides against your skin and you push against his hold again.
annoyed, jeno rolls his eyes, "you've done worse. i think you can handle my dick in your throat."
warmth seeps through the fabric, a heady scent attached to it. "i said no," you state, though your voice holds hesitation. "no more."
jeno huffs in irritation, roughly pulling his fingers from your hair. “you want it, don’t you?”
your hand holds the area, feeling a light pulse beneath your fingers. “I brought enough this time.”
jeno watches your gaze flicker to the table beside him where a small stack of cash is thrown lazily beside an open can of soda. he rolls his tongue in his mouth, leaning forward until his face lingers near yours. he pinches your cheeks between his fingers, the skin rough and calloused against your face. “I raised the price.”
you glance at the money again, “it’s more than enough.”
"just start fucking sucking," jeno says, his voice low and calm but his eyes are blazing. he roughly shoves your head backwards, glaring at you as he leans back in his chair, yanking his pants down his thighs, "or i'll tell everyone you let me fuck you to get your fix."
jeno liked it at first. the initial struggle against his bigger frame and the mess you made all on your own. though, it quickly got old. the pleas for mercy and calls for help never stopped even as he made you orgasm time and time again, moans you were unable to withhold telling him how much your body liked it.
but jeno quickly realized that he didn't like the dramatics. your puffy, weepy eyes and swollen, blotchy face only made him want to roll his eyes. your hiccups and unintelligible babbles loosened the coil in his stomach, taking him out of the euphoric bliss consuming his every thought. covering your mouth with his knobby fingers was annoying to maintain and often failed to truly silence you. jeno didn't want to hear you. he didn't want to see you.
he couldn't take it anymore. the annoyance was almost unbearable, making jeno consider finding a new, easier thing to play with. he just wanted to get off and relieve the weight of his balls and calm his brain which was filled to the brim with lewd fantasies. you were easily accessible and while you weren't exactly jeno's type, the fluttering hole between your legs made up for it. you were tight enough and more experienced than most, allowing jeno to bury his length into you with no problem but one. the crocodile tears that dripped from your eyes the moment you caught sight of jeno lurking near your bedroom door.
he's seen the position in porn, heads squeezed between muscular thighs and held down by the weight of unknown men, throats acting as pulsing pussies for throbbing cocks, and slick cunts positioned within reach for eager tongues.
it was harder to get you into the position than he expected, your legs kicking against his face, and your fingernails digging into his thighs as he settled on top of you. his cock didn't slide in as easily as he thought it would, making jeno's lips quirk in amusement. the boasts of how effortlessly you took a cock down your throat were a lie after all. the smile was quickly wiped off his face, replaced with a harsh bite to his lower lip as he paused. the feeling of your contracting throat stimulating his sensitive dick, almost doing the work for him.
jeno didn't stay still for long, rutting his hips against your face as you spluttered around his cock. he growled lowly, no irritating noises of resistance. all he could hear was a wet sound, louder than your cunt ever was. he felt drool pooling in your mouth, sliding out of the corners and smearing onto his thighs with every thrust, falling to the ground in thick strings.
he let his tongue roam your squirming thighs, digging his teeth into the supple skin when you kicked too hard. the scent of your arousal grew stronger, wetness covering his chest with quiet squelches as he moved. amusement crept up on him again, the corners of his lips curling as he forced himself deep into your throat.
ok... the one w mark.. and the g^n ... my brain went wild like what if he recorded the whole thing to send to your father & it started with you tied to a chair & he trails the g^n around your body and he teases you with the g^n in ur mouth telling u to suck it and omg my brain is shutting down
rating: 18+. mdni.
content: noncon (oral, filming), gunplay
the one in mark's hand is yours. the customizations would have told you so even if your engraved initials weren't just below your nose. you look away from them, blinded by the bright flash of a bulky camera. mark's eyes look even more menacing, his blown pupils and the dark brown of his irises glowing golden as his focus shifted toward the camera.
"suck," mark said lowly, jerking the metal of your gun. the metal hits your teeth, causing a vibration to flow up your skull. "show him how well you're doing over here."
you stay frozen, drool pooling near the corners of your mouth. you whimper, shame flowing through your veins, knowing in a matter of hours your father will be looking right at you. broken and bare.
mark glances at you, threats swimming in his irises. you blink, a teardrop slipping from your waterline. your lips wrap around the barrel, tongue stretched beneath it.
"there you go," mark grins. you almost shiver at the sight of it.
you hollow your cheeks, taking the length of the barrel deep into your mouth as mark pushes it inside. he drags it out slowly, twisting the gun, spit lining the metal glimmering under the lights.
the front sight knocks your teeth again, harder this time. you grimace, brows cinching, nose wrinkling. mark chuckles, slowly gliding the weapon along your tongue, prodding at your throat.
your glassy eyes peer up at him only to find his gaze fixed on your spit-slicked lips. "so good," he mutters. "are you gonna suck me off like this?
jisung’s spoon fell from his fingers, the metal clanking against the ceramic bowl in front of him. his plump lips fell open, blood flowing to his puffy cheeks, “what?”
you repeated yourself, crossing your arms over your chest as discomfort settled in your chest. you suddenly felt ridiculous. the accusations suddenly sounded absurd even to your own ears.
jisung looked at you incredulously, panic and embarrassment painting his features. he looked like he wanted to leave, palms already flat on the table, eyes shifting around the small, enclosed dining room. a few long seconds passed before he finally spoke, “are you serious?”
jisung looked unsure, the rushing of his thoughts clear in his brown eyes. you would find his reaction suspicious if you didn’t know him. if his emotions weren’t so clear on his face. jisung’s aversion to confrontation was nothing new, most of your petty arguments stemmed from it. but there was something that made a nearly unnoticeable doubt creep into your mind.
you supposed the subject matter could also justify his strange actions. sex was never something jisung was comfortable with. after years of friendship you had yet to hear of a single sexual encounter involving them friend, not that you were particularly interested, but at the ripe age of twenty two, you couldn’t help but find it odd.
still, you felt foolish. jisung recoiled when you did something as simple as tap him on the shoulder. he would never dream of such a thing. between your legs was the last place jisung longed to be, it couldn’t have been him.
the entire night was unusual, an unsettling air loomed over you the second you stepped out of the door with jisung in tow. the feeling only growing more intense as the night progressed and jisung’s presence suddenly felt suffocating. he stuck to you like glue, likely seeking comfort from the overwhelming amount of people surrounding him. that was yet another reason why it could never have been jisung.
surely there was something you missed as the night came to an end. perhaps another man followed closely behind you, managing to evade an equally intoxicated jisung’s watchful eye. maybe another man had inconspicuously slipped through the door before jisung managed to lock it, finding your bedroom and lingering in the dark as he waited for your friend to tuck you in.
you hadn’t seen jisung leave, but then again, you were exhausted. your eyes fluttered shut before your head had even touched your pillow, your heavy body falling limp in jisung’s lean arms that held you like fragile glass.
the man that forced himself between your legs could never have jisung. the brutality your foggy brain is something you didn’t think jisung could be capable of. the sweet boy that stuck by your side year after year, the boy who refused to raise his voice, or shut the door too roughly.
the hips slamming against your thighs were ruthless, the hand curled around your mouth unrelenting, the hisses in your ear telling you to shut the fuck up remorseless. moans and groans replaced his words, vibrating through your throat as eager kisses were placed upon it, occasional aggressive bites leaving you to cry out louder than you already were. it was worse when he lifted his face, scanning the tears that rolled down the swells of your cheeks and the fearful expression shifting on your face as recognition. At least, you thought it was recognition. as much as the blurry eyes above you mirrored jisung’s, the emotion swimming within them was nothing short of unfamiliar.
jisung quickly stood, face fully covered in a bright red tint that raced down his neck and crept up his ears as he tugged one. “I can’t believe you would say something like that,” he said, stumbling over the words.
you stood unmoving, feeling conflicted as he walked closer. sudden unease made you take a step back, watching as the space between you and jisung grew even larger until he was gone.
