𝒐𝒐𝒐. "I didn't write this to forget who I am as a person nor did I write it for money out of desperation. I wrote this because I know, one day, someone will find this story in the corner of a library, squeezed between forgotten stories with a dus...
Choi San. November 4th, 1980. | Tuesday, 10:45 PM. WARNING: Undertone of rape. It isn't stated that it is but it's detailed that it is. Please read at your own risk— If you are uncomfortable, it is okay to skip, you won't miss anything.
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His body trembled terribly, nails digging into his delicate skin, breaking through and causing his hip to bleed, seeping into the person's bedsheets; staining. It hurts, it hurts so much but they won't listen to him. All he could do is push his face into the soft, warm pillow, squeeze his eyes shut and wait for them to finish. 'Imagine something nice,' He thought, 'It'll be over soon.'
San hates when they're rough with him, manhandling him around the bed and spanking him to make it 'pleasurable' when it only pains him. It leaves marks and bruises that he never wants to see, he only wants to get it done and over with, but they never listen.
He doesn't like it when they're rough with him, he likes it when it is fast, thrusting in and out, cumming inside of the condom then calls it a day. This is why he sleeps around with girls because he could take control instead of the other way around, they never let him take control. They force him to be the girl, push him around, and tell him to shut up, don't make a sound because you're ruining the fun.
"O-Ouch!" San flinches from the harsh hair tug, body twitching from the horrible thrusts inside of him as he could only grip the pillow to his chest, begging for the person to slow down. "You're g-going too hard, c-can you be a little soft—"
"Shut the fuck up," The boy said, roughly shoving San's face into the pillow as he rocked his hips in an untimely manner, sloppy and rough, burying deep. "Keep your whines to yourself, nobody wants to hear you."
He doesn't like it when they're rough, most of them don't make it pleasurable for him. They're inexperienced, using San as a substitute to 'get better' for their girlfriends or to live up to their sick fantasies. Yet, San doesn't decline because sex is sex, he was made to do this — he has no choice but to say yes.
You're meant to do this, San, just take it.
San chokes out a sob, tears soaking his pink cheeks as the guy unloaded his seeds inside of the condom, pulling out and allowing his friends to have the next round. "Aren't you a pretty one," One whisper in San's ear, his lips forming into a tight smirk as he lifts San's head by his blonde hair, earning a pained whine. "Open your mouth."
San shook his head, he never puts anything in his mouth unless he knew the person. He doesn't know who these people are, only meeting one guy at the college party he's at then all his friends appeared, claiming they want a go.
Do what he says, San, just take it.
"I said," The guy forced his fingers inside of San's mouth, the blonde gagging. "Open your fucking mouth." San continues to shake his head, keeping his mouth sealed around the fingers as the guy tries to force it open, growing impatient from the rejection. "Do it."
