#revehae fantasies

[revehae]

marionette (r. fantasies)

warnings: smut, noncon, choking, forced relationship

wc. 765

anton doesn’t sense the fear and urgency chilling your bones to the point where you all but sweat yourself.

you wish he would. but he doesn’t. and if he does, he doesn’t comment on it. as if even he knows better than to go against your boyfriend. 

if you can even call him that. sungchan is not your boyfriend. that is what he tells the world, but if it was up to you, you would not be forcing a smile as you stand to his side with his arm draped over your shoulders as he looks at you almost affectionately. 

almost.

but anton does notice the red mark on sungchan��s forearm as it dangles over you. when asked about it, sungchan responds, “oh, it’s nothing. i was exercising too hard.”

you almost bristle in anger at the lie, but the memory of what really happened flickers in your head and you stiffen in something much closer to fear. though only for a fraction of a second, because you dread what will happen if one of sungchan’s friends become suspicious.

they can never know the truth, even if it haunts you. even if your body still aches with the memory. sungchan’s weight on top of you, ignoring your defiance, the way you told him you didn’t want it and begged him to spare you just this once. 

he didn’t. you are starting to think that remorse is something jung sungchan is simply not capable of. 

“can you at least slow down?” you choked out, aching for mercy. 

your eyes were misty, a bright glare in them from the shiny, hot tears that burn your eyes routinely. it was too much for you; it always is. the constant, creaking motion of the weary bed beneath you was a testament to the vigor of which he pounded into you, as if he was using every bit of his strength simply because he could.

you wouldn’t have been surprised. sungchan is flashy like that. it’s there in the way he flaunts his bulging arms and toned abs online after working out, the way he drives his obnoxiously loud, fast cars, the way he only sports the most extravagant clothes, and in the way he always shows you off.

sungchan ignored your cries, having gotten used to tuning them out. it was like second nature to him. “take it,” he hissed, big hands clamping down onto your thighs with enough force to bruise your already sore skin as he kept them spread. 

you whimpered, legs pushed beyond what was comfortable, but you knew better than to move. you clung to his forearms, not to draw him closer, but to desperately attempt to anchor yourself. holding him tight, your fingers scraped his skin, making his face twist in a wince.

“god, you bitch,” sungchan snapped, jerking his hand away from your thigh and repositioning it around your throat. he watched your eyes widen, your fingers flying up to meet his. “you’ll have to be dead to stay fucking still for me, is that it?”

your body went rigid for a moment. your heart was hammering. shaking your head the best you could, you tried to whisper a weak, “no,” but the sound came out as a faint squeak with the same quietness as a broken toy. your throat bobbed as you tried to breathe, hands uselessly prying at the ones around your neck.

but his grip didn’t slack. instead, you noticed his fingers clamping down onto your windpipe, sucking the life out of you like a noose. sungchan stared into your eyes silently as he pushed you further and further, forcing the breath out of you second by second, and for a moment you were convinced he would actually do it. 

maybe sungchan was, too. the intensity of his eyes locked on yours, no soul in them, no empathy, was more paralyzing than his grip on its own. but ultimately, he slackened his hold, tugging at your hair, and leaned low as he threatened, “then, you better fucking listen.”

the feeling of sungchan’s hand slipping down to your waist jolts you out of the cold memory.

you fidget with the black turtleneck you’re sporting as you force yourself to lean closer into sungchan’s side and throw anton a forced smile as you reply, “yeah, you know how he gets. always on grind mode when he hits the gym.”

because in spite of what sungchan does to you now, if anyone ever finds out about who he is when the two of you are alone, he will be a billion times worse.

[revehae]

idol (r. fantasies)

warnings: dubcon, shoe riding, sticking things up your coochie that should probably not be there, idol!haechan x (f) reader ft. idol!mark

wc. 984

jake version posted on my enha account @/ireverie. i’m not plagiarizing myself guys…

haechan thinks of it as an experiment. a mad scientist testing a hypothesis, curious about the inner workings of your mind and the bounds of your adoration for him, wanting to see exactly how far he can stretch your limits before you snap.

he starts mild. it’s an entertaining sight, you orgasming on his shoe, the thin, wet fabric of your panties clinging to the black leather and giving them a luminous shine. your hands had tightened around his thigh as your hips rolled deeper and deeper onto his protected foot and your teeth tangled in the loose fabric of ripped jeans to muffle the sound.

you look ashamed after, embarrassed. this is not how you had imagined meeting him would go, and you don’t want your memory when he eventually leaves to be stained by something so disgusting. the filthy fucking fan that rode his shoe, so desperate to be filled by him.

but haechan tells you that you’re not done. you’re confused, brows stitching together. wordlessly, he kicks out his other foot, giving it a nice tap against the carpet of his hotel room. now do the other one, is his silent command. you swallow the lump in your throat, hoping all the humiliation goes down with it, and begrudgingly switch shoes.

haechan stifles a laugh, not wanting to make you feel any worse than you likely already do. he watches you slowly grind down onto his other shoe, clinging onto his leg for support, your moans louder this time now that you are sensitive from climax. “haechan,” you whimper, burying your face in his pants. it’s so embarrassing.

even though he doesn’t say anything, too observed in monitoring the meek way you rub your needy cunt against his shoe, he gently pats your head in a way that makes your heart hammer and flood with warmth. for a moment, this is not so bad anymore.

but only for a moment, because the climax sneaks up on you again, and your hole throbs with impatience, clamping around nothing but empty space as you try to suppress the wanting. it’s hard, too hard. haechan is hard, for that matter, but he’s having too much fun pushing your buttons to let it end.

the next task is more humiliating than the last. when haechan disappeared into the bathroom, you had no idea what he was going to do, but he returns with his toothbrush in hand. he gestures for you to get on the bed and expectantly pushes it to you. your brows arched, bemused.

“what am i going to do with this?” you ask, weakly meeting his eyes. 

“what are you going to do with it?” he repeats, chuckling. he forces the toothbrush into your open hand and curls your fingers around it. “you’re gonna fuck yourself with it.”

you gawk, surprised. haechan is laughing, but it doesn’t feel like he is joking. rather, he seems dead serious. “but haechan,” you start. 

“but nothing,” he interrupts, a little rougher than intended. he kisses your cheek to soften his words. “you said you love me, didn’t you?”

“i do, but…”

“were you lying?” he accuses. 

your eyes widen. “no, of course not.”

“then do it,” he whispers, this time pressing his lips against yours. it’s brief, but enough to make your heart race. “for me.”

you heave a breath, but not your head. shuffling out of your panties, you push them underneath your ankles and haechan does the honor of tossing them aside. with a few more breaths, you slowly start to push the toothbrush inside, your hand holding the end with the bristles.

it feels like an object that doesn’t belong there, probably because it is, but it’s not particularly uncomfortable or painful, so you continue to move it deeper inside until your sticky walls have coated most of it with your slick.

you wish it’s haechan instead, but you decide it will have to work for now, thrusting the blue and white toothbrush with the image of haechan’s cock in mind, in and out. your mouth parts in gasps, clenching around the base of the brush as you picture haechan making you take every inch.

“that’s it,” haechan coos, pleased. “such a good girl.”

his lips fall from the pulse in your neck to your cold shoulders to your perky chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth while his finger gently curves around the other. your sounds make his dick jump in his pants, wearing at his self restraint.

your embarrassment hits an all-time peak when mark lets himself in with one of haechan’s extra keycards that you’re too flabbergasted to question why he has. 

“johnny hyung sent me to get your vote on what you wanna eat tomorrow after the…,” mark trails off, eyes widening when he notices what’s going on. “you know what? that’s my bad. i shouldn’t have… yeah. i’ll come back later.”

haechan knowingly holds your thighs spread as you instinctively try to shut them, wanting to keep the sight of you on display even if it embarrasses you. “don’t go. stay for the show,” haechan says, nails digging almost painfully into your thighs.

mark hesitates. what haechan does, especially in his own personally allotted free time, is none of his business, after all. but if he wants him to stay, then… “okay,” mark murmurs, reluctant.

“haechan,” you whimper quietly, looking anywhere but mark’s eyes in fear of judgement.

“shh, baby,” haechan whispers, tenderly brushing his fingers through your hair. “don’t be mean to mark, he’s my friend. he deserves a little love, too. i’ll give you what you want in a minute. just be a good girl and be patient for me, okay?”

your cheeks are burning. your heart is thudding. your thoughts are whirling. but what haechan wants, haechan gets. so you nod and whimper, “okay, haechan,” placing the toothbrush back between your fingers.

[revehae]

weak (r. fantasies)

warnings: smut, noncon, virgin!jisung x (f) anemic!reader, drugging

wc. 990

i been writing this on and off for 24 days and youre telling me its only 990 words im not a serious person at all… fake news its longer now cause i suddenly added one (1) sentence. thank you @neocentral for holding a gun to my head

for two entire days, jisung was antsy. even the mere thought of you, no matter how brief, made a cool wind sweep over his shoulders and his gut tighten uncomfortably.

he knew what he was going to do, and he knew how he was going to do it, but even more so, he knew that it was wrong.

but if he knew that it was wrong, then why did he resolve himself to do it anyway? why did he smile in your face as if he didn’t know that he was about to hurt you? why didn’t he give jeno back his stuff, instead of holding onto it all this time?

jisung didn’t have any idea what it was, other than what jeno had told him while pressing the tiny bag into his chest. colorless, odorless, tasteless, and she’ll be out long enough for you to do all the dirty, perverted stuff you’re too scared to do while she’s awake.

but the truth was that compared to the thought of doing it while you were awake, this terrified jisung tenfold. would it still hurt you, bother you? would you feel the soreness between your thighs and instantly know what he had done? would you hate him more because you wouldn’t remember?

those were the thoughts hurtling through his head when you got up to use the bathroom. but if he was going to do it, he had to act quickly. your nightstand was littered with prescriptions pills and jisung knew you took the iron supplements every night. he poured the powder into your water bottle, watching it disappear as he shook it.

jisung’s heart raced at a rhythm he never knew could be possible when you came back and grabbed a hold of your water bottle. you didn’t make a face, drinking it like nothing was the matter. and he was surprised by how quickly you were out. in the few minutes it took to take effect, you didn’t even have time to become sleepy.

for a long minute, jisung didn’t even seem to remember why he had done this anymore. he was staring at your face, poking your cheek to see if you would react, but you didn’t stir. he worried that maybe you were dead, but when he put his finger to the base of your neck, there was still a normal pulse.

jisung’s breath quickened when he realized all of the things he could do to you right now. he didn’t dive in headfirst like he thought he would, his fingers absentmindedly trailing your soft skin first. he started with your neck, since his hand was already there, gently tightening his fingers around it. he wanted to mark you so badly, but he couldn’t.

he brought his thump up to your bottom lip, overcome by the formerly suppressed urge to kiss you, and with nothing to stop him, he pressed his lips to yours. he was mildly annoyed that you couldn’t kiss him back, but on the bright side, he still had the opportunity to touch you.

to do all the dirty, perverted stuff he was too scared to do while you were awake, as jeno put it.

his words always echoed in jisung’s head, influencing him in ways that were less than healthy. you could easily take her, if you weren’t so weak in the knees, jeno would tease, nudging jisung painfully. she’s anemic, for fuck’s sake. she can’t be that strong. 

jisung pulled back to gape at you in your night gown. he always thought you looked good in them. the way they gave away your collarbone and the little lace ribbon where your cleavage stopped, and the way the cute sleeves cuffed at your wrists was endearing to him.

but right now, as he gingerly bunched up the dress and caught sight of your lilac, cotton panties, the only thing he could think about was how desperately he ached to be inside you, to feel your sticky, throbbing walls cling around his virgin cock. to prove that he wasn’t a coward, that he wasn’t weak like you were. 

and for that reason, he couldn’t be slow and steady anymore. he knew there was no clock on him, nothing pacing him and nothing threatening to tear him away from the warmth of you, but his self-restraint had already worn thin and he was running on empty.

jisung convinced himself that you wanted him as he sheathed himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, every impatient inch of him. it may not have come from your mouth, but the slick somewhat facilitating his entry was answer enough. you may not have known what was happening, but your body was hyper aware.

god, jisung’s was, too. he couldn’t resist the tight squeeze, the way your pussy gripped him for dear life, and he tipped his head forward as his hands gripped your thighs to anchor himself before he fell too deep. even they were warm, the most cute and supple pair.

his eyes were completely closed, winced shut at the first pulse of your warm and tight cunt around his dick. he knew you would have loved him, if you could feel him. he knew he was big enough to please you. the guys too often teased him, saying he had all those inches, but not a hint of what to do with any.

but jisung knew right now. driving his hips passionately into yours, big hands clasping at your soft, moisturized skin, he knew he could make you feel things unimaginable. the sounds you were unknowingly yanking out of his throat, he could easily pull out of you. the way his face tensed with pleasure, he was certain he could make short work of you, too. 

“so weak,” jisung whispered into deaf ears, burying his face in your neck, and breathing in your ravishing scent. he imagined you calling him sungie like you always did, and it only made him grunt. “it’s okay. i’ll protect you. like i always have.”

[revehae]

ghost (r. fantasies)

warnings: masturbation, grave desecration, kind of angst

wc. 742

heeseung version posted on my enha blog @/ireverie. i am not plagiarizing myself guys

haechan misses you.

he can’t take it anymore. nights spent skin-to-skin with you in his arms, nights spent with your body on top of his as you rolled your hips, nights spent with him panting in your ear as you rode the soul out of him all taken away in one second before he even got the chance to say goodbye.

three whole months have gone by since then and to him, it still feel yesterday. one minute, he was confident he would come home to you waiting for him like you always did, and the next, he got that phone call.

haechan fists his cock as he perches on your grave, jean-clad knees stained with dirt. he doesn’t care. cheap denim jeans are replaceable; you aren’t. he tries to touch himself the way he remembers you doing it, picturing your warm, soft hands and pretty, gem-embedded nails wrapped around his cock.

his eyes flutter closed. you would start slow and steady, looking into his eyes as you pumped him, smiling up at him with your gorgeous, enticingly sweet eyes. haechan moans at the thought. you always knew exactly what what to do to make him lose his mind. only after he got all worked up, tip leaking profusely with precum, would you finally go faster.

haechan speeds up. his eyes snap open for a moment, glancing around to make sure he’s alone. it’s the middle of the night, no one should be around unless, much like him, they’re a freak in violent need of help. sensing no one, he allows himself to close his eyes again and resume the image of you in his head, eagerly jerking him off.

the tip of his heavy, aching cock is sticky with precum that coats the palm of his hand. it covers his whole shaft as he inadvertently smears it everywhere, rapid palm lubricating his cock the way your mouth would. you used to love that about him; he always comes so much.

“fuck,” he groans louder than intended, the very thought making his dick twitch in painful delight, in sweet yearning.

haechan desperately wants to go even quicker, but he forces himself to have some kind of restraint, wanting to do this the way he knows you would if you were still here with him where you belong instead of six feet underground.

at first, it was chilly outside to haechan. but now the cool, crisp air goes unnoticed as the scalding heat burns his sensitive ears down to his flushed cheeks down to his bobbing neck. you would, he remembers, nibble at the flesh behind his ears, kiss his soft cheeks, and suck at the quick, throbbing pulse in the base of his neck.

“calm down, hyuck,” you would tell him, giggling in his ear. god, he loved that sound. he still does. he would give anything to hear it again, one last time.

he sheds the jacket, feeling suffocated by how increasingly hot his body is getting, and tosses it onto the ground. haechan knows he’s close, that’s the only reason he’s making himself be patient. you never wanted to finish him too quickly unless you were impatient yourself. you liked to to draw it out, to make him wait.

it was fair, haechan thinks. he was always so busy, so caught up with work and the like that he rarely had time to spend with you. it was only fair that you made him ache just the way you did when he was gone for days, sometimes weeks on end. 

haechan wishes he would have gone about things differently. had he known his days with you would be numbered, he would have dropped everything to spend every available second with you. he would have never taken time with you for granted.

but he can’t hold back anymore. he needs to come. he needs you, but he knows that this as close as he will ever get to feeling you again. he teeth sink into his bottom lip a little too hard as he releases with a moan of your name followed by curses, shooting ropes of cum onto the nature-weathered stone of your grave and the dirt in front.

haechan breathes for a while, relaxing. he glances around, but still spots no one. then, he glances back at your grave, a heavy pang in his heart. 

“come back,” he whispers wistfully, knowing you can’t hear him, but hoping you can.

[revehae]

dazed (r. fantasies)

warnings: almost fluff, implied noncon/stalking

wc. 589

jake ver posted on my enhypen acc @/ireverie. i’m not plagiarizing myself guys…

arm curled around your waist, seunghan flips up the light switch in your apartment with his free hand and watchs the bright, warm colors suspend over the darkness. he’s been here before, he was here yesterday, and it looks the same as it did when he last came over. pink blankets draping over the couch, fluffy, white pillows between the seats, and your laptop on the coffee table with cute stickers on its lid.

“c’mon, baby,” he coos, gently tugging you towards the hallway he’s at least familiar enough with to know where your bedroom is.

you are leaning into his side, hands gripping onto his waist for dear life as he both supports and steers you. seunghan chuckles, giving your head a sweet pat before he pulls you into your room, turns on the light, and sits you on the bed.

your clothes are scattered everywhere, messily thrown about here and there in what seunghan can only comprehend as the aftermath of you picking out your outfit for tonight. glancing you over, the same way he had done at the club only half an hour ago, he appreciates the effort. you look too cute, boobs sitting perfectly in your shirt and your tiny skirt leaving little to his own twisted mind.

seunghan shakes his head in mock disapproval, glancing down at you. “now, what are we going to do about this mess, baby?” he asks, blowing the hair out of his face so he can see you better.

you glimpse around your room, frowning. you hadn’t thought about what you would have to deal with when you came back from hanging out, and you were much too tired to clean it up now. “dunno...”

seunghan snickers. everything about you is endearing to him, especially the sight of you so obviously sleepy. “it’s okay, baby,” he whispers. “don’t worry about it. we’ll fix it tomorrow, how does that sound?”

nodding your head, you notice it starting to droop to the side a little as exhaustion weighs down your body. “hanni, i’m sleepy,” you murmur, scratching behind your ear.

“i know,” he says, giving you one last long look in your outfit before he starts to tug your shirt over your head. “let’s get you in something more comfortable first, yeah?”

you nod your head again, raising your arms up for all of two seconds, and seunghan chuckles when he sees you drop your hands on your head and lower the side of it onto the edge of your right shoulder. your lips are jutting out and your eyes are fluttering.

seunghan pulls the shirt above your head and tosses it aside, marveling at the white, lacy bra strapping around your chest and back before he shifts his attention over to your skirt. he makes you lift your hips so that he can slide it off you with ease and watches you drop like it took all your energy to sit up straight.

no jammies, only your bra and panties. yes, you sleep like that often, seunghan notes.

“thank you for taking care of me,” you mumble, feeling a pinch bit guilty. you didn’t mean to get so drunk. “when i wake up, i’ll make you something like i did when you last came over. how long ago was that? a month? you should visit me more often.”

seunghan hums innocently, liking the sound of that. he licks his lips in remembrance. he always gets such sweet treats when he comes here. “you’re right.” he nods his head. “i should.”

[revehae]

maneater (r. fantasies)

warning: noncon, semi-public sex, jisung × (f) reader x jaemin

wc. 1.3k

love that i wrote this for @neocentral and she’s also the only reason i was able to recover this 🫶🏽 EVERYONE SAY WE LOVE YOU BELLE

maybe it was jisung's fault, the unfortunate outcome of his generous naivete. foolishly, he had mistaken your kindness for infatuation, your exuberant flashes of teeth when you glanced his way as flirtatious gestures of mutual affection.

jisung wouldn't consider himself a loser. he had a couple of friends. sure, he wasn't the most popular guy around, especially not with girls, but that didn't make him a loser. there was no reason to doubt his chances with one of the campus' most popular students, especially not when you made it so easy to like you.

too easy, jisung would think, clenching his pale, whitened knuckles into stiff fists when he saw other guys talking to you, checking you out from head to toe like you were a fresh slab of meat on display.

deep down inside, even if he refused to admit it to himself, jisung couldn't fault them like he wanted. your wit was admirable and your beauty rivaled that of goddesses. to say nothing of the fact that you were so amicable and approachable, maybe too approachable.

idiotically believing under the trance of your bewitching stare and enthralling smile that you reciprocated jisung's less than platonic feelings for you was his first mistake.

mustering the courage to approach you and ask you out was his second.

at the very least, you were sweet enough to let jisung down gently. even as you ripped his thudding heart out his chest and shredded it with bared teeth, unraveling the thread upon which his very world spun, your lips were fixed in a perfect smile as you apologetically told him that you didn't feel the same way, tenderly brushing your hand against his.

how kind of you to shatter his heart in the most beautiful way possible. you had to have done this a dozen times before, maybe even twice as much, so accustomed to rejecting every male's advance that you knew all the right words to say.

"you'll forget you ever felt this way," you'd told him at one point, most of your other words becoming white noise to his ears as indignation poked holes into his chest and swallowed him whole.

jisung liked to think that he handled the rejection fairly. outwardly, at least, it was true. you wouldn't have guessed from looking at him that the world as he knew it had been upturned and rage was festering in side of him quickly and brutally. he should've listened to his friends when they told him, dude, she's a maneater.

to think only days ago jisung thought so highly of you. now, whenever he saw you, only the most degrading of words came to mind. what a picky, arrogant whore, hissed his thoughts bitterly.

you must've thought you were so much better than him. you must've got a good laugh at his expense, leading him on and making him believe even for a minute that you liked him the way he liked you. or maybe you were just playing hard to get, so entitled that you thought he would chase you.

wrong. jisung was not like those other guys that would come begging at your feet and he refused to lower himself to such degradation, solely so that you could feel better about yourself.

it had to only have been a couple of weeks forward, jisung's anger intensifying by the day, when he heard those godawful noises coming from just around the corner.

he recognized that voice - your voice. jisung would never admit that he was obsessed with you, but there was no doubt in his mind that the high-pitched, agonized cry he heard came from between those glossy lips of yours.

naturally, it was jisung's first instinct to investigate, to wonder what was so terrible that you were shrieking so sharply. he became especially curious when the sound was cut off, suspicious sudden and abrupt, as if it had been muffled.

jisung tiptoed around the corner, quiet as to not disturb the scene unfolding just shy of him. although, given how busy the city was, bustling with everyday life, it would've been more difficult to hear him approaching.

jisung nearly gasped at what he saw, poking his head around the sturdy brick wall and spotting your frame caged behind jaemin's as your back was pinned harshly against a cold wall.

"shh, sweetheart." jaemin crooned, tone of voice cheating his violent hands. "wouldn't want anyone else to see you like this, now would you? imagine how hard it would be for you to have a good future if all anybody saw when they looked at you was this loose little pussy."

jisung wanted to say that that was already what people saw, but he held his tongue. he didn't want to risk making his presence known. one slightly wrong move, one bad step, and both of you would know that he was watching, lurking discreetly in the shadows. 

shameless, jisung whispered in his brain, shaking his head as he kept his eyes locked on the incident in front of him. jaemin was forcing himself onto you in broad daylight, for fuck's sake. without a care in the world if anyone saw him.

even as people walked only mere feet away from the sight, burdened with the tasks of their own problems. people that wouldn't randomly think to check around an alleyway to see if there was a girl attempting to fight off her attacker.

your face was familiar, but hardly recognizable all at once. your usual heart-stopping smile was surely upturned into a piteous frown, though it was obscured from jisung's vision as jaemin smothered your screams with his palm. moisture stung your eyes, gathering at your lashes and dripping thickly down your tear-stained cheeks.

even with jaemin's palm pressed flat against your mouth, your whimpers still faintly traveled through the hot, stuffy air. you thrashed in his burly arms, struggling to wrest your way out, but jaemin kept you in place with his spare arm.

part of jisung was bristling with pain and seething with white-hot anger watching another guy touch in ways only he should've been able to, but he couldn't move and he definitely couldn't look away. your stiff nipples were exposed from where jaemin had yanked your shirt down, jisung arriving only moments to see how jaemin sucked at licked at the tender buds.

"i don't take no for an answer," jaemin whispered, stuffing you full of his thick, veiny cock. your pussy was sore from how vigorously he was using you, but nothing would stop jaemin from doing as he pleased if he wanted it enough.

jisung's cock twitched in his light sweatpants. he only wished he could've felt the way your cunt squeezed his cock for dear life, milking it for every last drop of cum like it did jaemin's. if only he would've had the courage to slam you against a wall and take what he wanted, show you who was in charge.

it kept him up sometimes fantasizing about how tight and wet you were as he fisted his own cock to ecstasy. the sight of jaemin abusing your poor little cunt was infuriating, but erotic. not taking out his cock and pumping in his hand took all of jisung's willpower. 

watching how wide your gorgeous, fretful eyes were, how your chest heaved quicker and quicker, skipping breaths to get to the one that came after, jisung almost felt bad for you. he liked to think he would've been much more tender, had he gotten the opportunity, setting the mood and taking his time to please you.

until you broke his heart. now, whatever happened to you was out of his hands and jisung couldn't have cared less, ignoring the panic in your body language and obvious pain tensing your features.

jisung had the power to stop his friend if he really wanted, to intervene and save you from your troubles, and he most likely would've, had you not wounded him. but he remembered the gash still fresh on him, your smiles rubbing salt in the cut, and decided this was what you deserved. you'd get over it.

yeah, she'll forget she ever felt this way, jisung mimicked resentfully, those words burned onto his heart harshly. so in the end, against jisung's better judgment, he kept on walking.

[darkficslover]

Omgg it was too good!! Sungchan is super mean. I love the way you write r.fantasies fics <33.

marionette (r. fantasies)

warnings: smut, noncon, choking, forced relationship

wc. 765

anton doesn’t sense the fear and urgency chilling your bones to the point where you all but sweat yourself.

you wish he would. but he doesn’t. and if he does, he doesn’t comment on it. as if even he knows better than to go against your boyfriend. 

if you can even call him that. sungchan is not your boyfriend. that is what he tells the world, but if it was up to you, you would not be forcing a smile as you stand to his side with his arm draped over your shoulders as he looks at you almost affectionately. 

almost.

but anton does notice the red mark on sungchan’s forearm as it dangles over you. when asked about it, sungchan responds, “oh, it’s nothing. i was exercising too hard.”

you almost bristle in anger at the lie, but the memory of what really happened flickers in your head and you stiffen in something much closer to fear. though only for a fraction of a second, because you dread what will happen if one of sungchan’s friends become suspicious.

they can never know the truth, even if it haunts you. even if your body still aches with the memory. sungchan’s weight on top of you, ignoring your defiance, the way you told him you didn’t want it and begged him to spare you just this once. 

he didn’t. you are starting to think that remorse is something jung sungchan is simply not capable of. 

“can you at least slow down?” you choked out, aching for mercy. 

your eyes were misty, a bright glare in them from the shiny, hot tears that burn your eyes routinely. it was too much for you; it always is. the constant, creaking motion of the weary bed beneath you was a testament to the vigor of which he pounded into you, as if he was using every bit of his strength simply because he could.

you wouldn’t have been surprised. sungchan is flashy like that. it’s there in the way he flaunts his bulging arms and toned abs online after working out, the way he drives his obnoxiously loud, fast cars, the way he only sports the most extravagant clothes, and in the way he always shows you off.

sungchan ignored your cries, having gotten used to tuning them out. it was like second nature to him. “take it,” he hissed, big hands clamping down onto your thighs with enough force to bruise your already sore skin as he kept them spread. 

you whimpered, legs pushed beyond what was comfortable, but you knew better than to move. you clung to his forearms, not to draw him closer, but to desperately attempt to anchor yourself. holding him tight, your fingers scraped his skin, making his face twist in a wince.

“god, you bitch,” sungchan snapped, jerking his hand away from your thigh and repositioning it around your throat. he watched your eyes widen, your fingers flying up to meet his. “you’ll have to be dead to stay fucking still for me, is that it?”

your body went rigid for a moment. your heart was hammering. shaking your head the best you could, you tried to whisper a weak, “no,” but the sound came out as a faint squeak with the same quietness as a broken toy. your throat bobbed as you tried to breathe, hands uselessly prying at the ones around your neck.

but his grip didn’t slack. instead, you noticed his fingers clamping down onto your windpipe, sucking the life out of you like a noose. sungchan stared into your eyes silently as he pushed you further and further, forcing the breath out of you second by second, and for a moment you were convinced he would actually do it. 

maybe sungchan was, too. the intensity of his eyes locked on yours, no soul in them, no empathy, was more paralyzing than his grip on its own. but ultimately, he slackened his hold, tugging at your hair, and leaned low as he threatened, “then, you better fucking listen.”

the feeling of sungchan’s hand slipping down to your waist jolts you out of the cold memory.

you fidget with the black turtleneck you’re sporting as you force yourself to lean closer into sungchan’s side and throw anton a forced smile as you reply, “yeah, you know how he gets. always on grind mode when he hits the gym.”

because in spite of what sungchan does to you now, if anyone ever finds out about who he is when the two of you are alone, he will be a billion times worse.