DEPUTY - woosan (crime)

054

He looks out at the pool table and assesses the balls on the table and who was leading. Kenzo was playing against one of the other men, and it seemed like Kenzo was winning, as he usually did. He was an expert at pool, often challenged by confident party-goers. He'd involve money, challenging and tricking his opponents into putting large amounts of cash on the table, only for him to sweep them off the table into his bags and pockets when he'd win. He played expertly, and was often admired by others.

San notes the way Kenzo put his hand on his back, patting them. " It's been a minute, hasn't it? " He spoke, looking up at San through his wise, sinister eyes. San could tell Kenzo had alot on his mind, and looked almost wary of him. Nevertheless, he was obvious in his advances to make conversation. " Yeah. " San replied.

Thoughts rushed through San's mind, he'd managed to slither into the setting with the others without raising any questions or putting anyone on high-alert. Now was the million dollar question. How the fucking hell was he gonna separate Kenzo and Rui from the rest of the groups, transport them to a separate room where the whole reason why they even came here could take place?

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Sleep just isn't sleep any longer, it's an escape from reality.

From the horrifying, gut-wrenching torture he has to endure.

Once he falls to slumber, cracking open the door to lunar hours. He imagines the world he once had. The world he misses. The world he wished he didn't take for granted. The world, outside the cement walls he's been kept underneath for for so long.
He's lost track of time, counting what he thinks are hours when in reality it's just minutes.

He thinks he's been under here for several months, his hair has grown longer. Yoongi luckily shaves his face for him, he thinks Wooyoung looks better without facial hair. But Wooyoung's mane has grown significantly longer. He doesn't known what he looks like. He hasn't seen his reflection in weeks. He misses doing his own hair, he doesn't even have a comb to brush his hair. It's a tangled mess, his once thick luscious hair now matted and dirty.

Is this what prison feels like? Endless suffering with no reason to wake up, yet despite every prayer and cry to god to not, you still do?

He's not even religious, yet he finds himself sat on his knees, hands on either side of his head on the floor. Whispering sentences only meant for him and god to hear. " Please, let me out, whatever I did to deserve this I acknowledge and will do better. Please end this suffering. "

Every prayer goes un-heard. and Wooyoung wakes up every day to misery, sadness, and the eventual and inevitable numbness.

He fell to his knees in exhaustion, letting a heavy sigh pass through his chapped, bitten raw lips. Yoongi watches with a cold expression on his face as Momo pulls her hand off his erect, angry red girth. The orgasm he'd fought against and refused giving a few hours earlier had been denied hours on end now. He was too weak to fight against it, not that he needed to, Momo stopped it for him. Like some kind of sick version of edging, only with a dark turn to it, made to satisfy Momo's sick, sadistic fantasies and reduce Wooyoung's defenses, break down his walls and torture him until what they hoped; he'd crack and tell them the questions they'd been asking all this time.

" Still not speaking? " She coos, despite her soft tone her voice tinged with venom. her hand grabbing his jaw and forcefully lifting his head to make eye-contact. " Your little dick is so sensitive I bet I could make you cum just from breathing a little to hard on it. " She mocks, brushing her free hand against it. Wooyoung whines, jerking back from her touch.