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on-leatheredwings · 2 months

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False Pretenses (18+)

Yandere ! Damian Wayne x (Fem) Reader

romantic, 18+ > summary: Damian needs an heir someday, and he knows your body can provide that. > tw/cw: stealthing/baby trapping. there is consensual sex under false pretenses, so this could (and should) make this fall under dub- or non-con! there is also a brief mention of somnophilia. Plus, some breeding kink, praise kink. Also some weird thoughts about (cis) women who are fertile being ‘ideal’ and a preference for biological children. Just a warning. > word count: 5088. jesus christ. > [a/n: (smokes a blunt). ] > again 18+ only, damian wayne is 21

So, Damian has a breeding kink.

You sit in bed (his bed), knees to your chest, trying not to smile.

The covers are wrapped around your bare body as you recall the night prior’s events.

Last night was the farthest you two have gone physically. You’ve made out, of course. That was in short order after officially becoming a couple, the both of you starved for the other. You’ve groped each other, both over and under your clothes… You’ve given him a handjob… (To his utter dismay that you’ve brought him to orgasm first rather than the reverse.) And last week, you took him in your mouth for the first time. But yesterday night was the first time you had been on the receiving end.

Now, you are no virgin, but the memory does make you clutch your metaphorical pearls. You didn’t know simple fingering could be so… perverse.

Damian’s two middle fingers are thrusting back and forth into your trembling cunt. Your ears are steaming at the resulting noises filling the air. They’re lewd, and entirely involuntary on your part. Sweat on your temple drips, your torso heaves with shaken breath. Your damp back lies flush against his hard chest, two perfect puzzle pieces. Damien’s chin rests on your shoulder, allowing him to have a beautiful view of the mess you’re making on his slender digits. Viridian eyes have their entire focus on you, utterly fascinated.

The look in them is enough to make you blush, even if two of his fingers weren’t in you right now.

Sinful, reverent whispers into the shell of your ear marvel about how well you’re doing, how prepared you’ll be to take him afterwards. Damian’s free hand rests on your abdomen, pointedly over your womb.

He’ll fill you. Breed you. After all, you can handle that. You were basically made for it. He knows you’d be perfect at it.

Chin resting on the palm of your hand, you come back to the present.

Yeah, that was really turning him on, you mull, with almost academic interest. Your lips curl into a catlike grin. How curious!

Hey, you aren’t judging! You can see the appeal. After all, you hadn’t exactly been complaining last night… just caught off guard.

You sit with your thoughts as Damian washes up in his restroom.

It is in his bedroom you currently lounge, absentmindedly fiddling with satin sheets. His bed is large enough to drown in. His room is a wash of dark emerald greens and deep blues, with golden accents. On a table sits a sheathed sword, its grip a beautiful gold.

Both of you are college students finishing up your last semester. During the school season, Damian stays in his penthouse. Yes, his penthouse. Why he couldn’t just stay at his billionaire father’s mansion, you don’t know. Bird has to leave the nest sometime, you suppose.

Slowly lowering your knees and letting your back hit cool sheets, you lie down. You get lost in the ceiling – a beautiful Arabesque pattern is subtly molded across its expanse. Damian’s culture is so cool. Such was a sentiment you had communicated in such words, and he simply kissed your knuckles with a proud curve of his lips, and thanked you for the compliment. You blush.

Ugh. Damian is so cool.

You start pulling up every uncool thing about him in your mental reservoir. You can’t have him getting a big head, after all. Or rather, can’t have his head getting any bigger.

Hmm… breeding kinkster, breeding kinkster, thy name is Damian Wayne.

You blink dumbly.

Breeding... breeding…

Pregnancy.

Your body stiffens.

Wait. Does this… does that mean something? Is that like. A thing? What people call foreshadowing? You sit up, disturbed.

At that exact moment, Damian saunters out of the washroom. His eyes catch yours immediately, as if drawn by magnetism. He is still shirtless, navy blue sweatpants looking entirely artful on his tall, bronze body. His usual shrewd expression relaxes at the sight of you.

At the sight of him, your heart skips a beat, and not out of admiration for his looks. It was like you had been caught red-handed, speculating things. Sometimes you swear he knows what you’re thinking.

He stalks toward you, eyes loving. He places a kiss on your lips, punctuating it with “Good morning, my love.”

“G-good morning,” you return, painfully aware of your nakedness under his sheets. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He places kisses on your bare shoulder, trailing down until he’s kissing your hand. While normally you’d be melting, you remain stiff.

Damian pecks one last kiss when you blurt, “Do you want kids?”

You inwardly smack your forehead. Well, you weren’t one to shy away from a tough conversation. For better or worse.

Damian stirs, blinking at you.

You continue, trying not to wilt, “Do… Do you want kids? I-is that something you want? Like, someday?”

How the hell did this not come up sooner, you don’t know.

… Well.

Perhaps it hadn’t come up because your relationship was fairly new. You’ve known Damian for five years now. And for the last two, your relationship had been under a taxing, soul-sucking ‘will-they-won’t-they-it’s-complicated’ vague denomination for quite a while. Both of you knew each of you had feelings for the other. But Damian confessing his vigilante secret and his assassin past was quite the double whammy.

Damian was resolute in keeping you and himself safe and alive, but you had to think critically about a future with him. Eventually you said fuck it, throwing caution to the wind because you loved him, and you wanted him. And he, you.

Officially, it’s only been three months of dating – and you both are young. You both are in your last year of college. Talking about kids felt … fast.

Damian remains silent, face tentative. Having been leaning over you, he now sits on his bed, looking thoughtful.

“... Is that something you want?”

You sigh. Of course he’d turn it on you.

“I…” Your throat feels tight. God, why can’t we just enjoy a damn honeymoon phase… “I mean…? I’m… open to it. But yeah, it seems kinda… Like. I don’t know. That’s a lot right now.” Your voice is uncharacteristically small and meek.

You should stop there. Keep it vague. Keep things light. But you know which side of the fence you’re leaning on, and so should he.

“A-and you know– like, you know I didn’t have a good relationship with my mother– I just. Don’t know. If ever. I guess?”

You sit in awkward silence with him. You pray God just decides to smite you where you sit, because Christ. That was horrible.

Things like this could break a relationship, you know. And your chest clenches painfully at the thought of separating from Damian.

Damian takes in your words, nodding. He’s usually so easy to read – you’re well-versed in Wayne-nese by now, having spent a lot of time with him and the rest of his family. But he seems to be withholding his inner thoughts intentionally from you. Your heart sinks.

You nudge him with your feet.

“Damiii. Do you?”

Damian’s eyes glimmer with characteristic haughtiness, instantly making you warm. He crawls forward, hands sinking into the bed by your hips. He nips at your nose before locking lips. It’s a sweet, sweet kiss that’s like candy, until you feel the stroke of his hot tongue. You moan freely, not caring that he’ll likely tease you later for being so easy.

He retreats, licks his lips.

“You fiend,” you blurt. The insult rolls off him.

“What I want is to be with you.” You swallow dryly, heart thumping like a chorus line. You wouldn’t be surprised if Damian could see literal hearts in your eyes.

He puts a hand on your knee, stroking softly. You feel mollified at the action. Damian only did that when everything was alright.

“We’ve got class. If you get dressed fast enough, I’ll buy you that confectionary you’re always wanting.”

You stick out your tongue. “It’s a frappe,” you say, adding before he could say otherwise, “and yes, it is real coffee.”

Back from class, you decided to read on his living room recliner while he drew in his study. Damian indeed sketched, as he did everyday. Unsurprisingly, you were the subject, along with your favorite flowers. But Damian chose his study, rather than drawing you from life, because he also wanted to check if today was the day he thought it was. He opens the drawer of his wooden desk, papers neatly filed. He picks up a sleek black folder that spends most of its time laid in hiding underneath.

…

So, for the record, Damian did not lie.

He merely obfuscated an answer with a truth.

He does want to be with you above anything, and if children were out of the question due to natural causes… sure, he would learn to get over it. His brothers are all adopted and are as legitimate heirs to his father as he. But as it stands, Damian needs an heir someday and he knows your body can provide that.

… A not-insignificant part of him quietly admits that he simply wants his children to be blood-related. He’d never express this to anyone. His brothers are adopted, so how could he? But instilled from infancy into Damian was that he was the result of two genetically perfect individuals.

So why shouldn’t his child be the genetic amalgamation of you and him, both of whom are also two perfect beings? The thought of impregnating you sounds… good. Ideal. Natural, even. Call him a romantic.

When opened, inside the folder is a calendar for the year, with no notes or writing. Some days are blank. Some are highlighted in either red or green.

His eyes skirt down to the current day of the calendar, and Damian's pleased to see it is indeed among a week that's painted in green. You've ovulated, and the six days afterward are an ideal window.

You've said in passing that your cycle is pleasantly regular and Damian's past investigations have proved this to be true. Not that he asks anymore. He snorts, remembering how last time you looked at him incredulously and asked if he was a Republican, since he was “all up in your womb.”

However, you do keep menstrual products in your bag when he’s predicted it. You also spend quite some time at his place, so he does note when there’s pad wrappers in his bathroom trash bin.

Last year, the day he knew you were the one – his One – he brewed you a tea before bed. Its sedative contents ensured you wouldn't wake, and you were out like a light within minutes. So, Damian pulled off your pants, and collected a specimen from you as you slept. Of course, he did so with sterile, sexless precision – Damian wasn’t a pervert or deviant. He sniffs. He’s better than that. Even if his hands did linger.

Test results proved you were healthy and fertile. He recalls this with pride. As expected, you were perfect in all things. Damian closes the folder and ruminates in his seat.

Damian had assumed so, but now you’ve confirmed with him that you’re unsure about raising children based on your history with your own family. He hears you. As if he doesn’t have his own slew of mommy problems. If you bring it up again, he’ll wave you off. You’ll be an amazing mother. You just need a push, and you’ll be confident soon enough.

His fingers steeple. Hm… There’s the issue of having children before marriage… He doesn’t know how you feel about children outside of wedlock, but it’s not as though you’re very traditional. You don’t seem to have a problem with the fact that’s how he was conceived. It’s not a big concern regardless, because Damian is going to marry you anyway. If it’s an issue, you both could marry in as soon as a month.

It all works out.

It’s perfect, he thinks.

Damian puts up his sketchbook and folder alike, heading to his bedroom to change. It was about time he put his plans into action, and he knows just how to usher it into fruition.

“That doesn’t look like a very satisfying read,” Damian says, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

You don’t look up from your book, your cringing face only deepening.

“Well, that’s because it isn’t. I was lied to! By my favorite Youtuber! By BookTok! And fuck it, by the government–”

"My love."

“You ask for one slow burn rivals-to-lovers and instead you get him fawning over her within three chapters–”

“My love,” he repeats, though amused.

“And let’s not even start about how this prose is abysmal–”

“My love.”

Since it was said oh-so-sweetly, you look up from your book.

Damian is... oh. He's in that outfit he knows you like. The League of Assassins one that's sleeveless, dark, and form fitting with gorgeous gold trim. It turns his body into a marvelous painting of black and gold on the tanned backdrop that is his skin. And you’ve told him so… Except his eyes. His beautiful, intense green eyes. He straightens from how he leans against the wall, stepping closer.

You toss your book, not even watching its trajectory. It takes out a vase on the way down and you still don’t spare it a glance.

"Damian Wayyyyyne," you sing, hopping up to stalk toward your prey. Your hands land on his chest. Hello, tig ol' biddies, you cheer internally. It takes considerable restraint to keep from saying it aloud – you know Damian gets all flustered with his delicate sensibilities. “Why, are you trying to seduce me?”

An elegant, thick brow rises in amusement. Well, that was exceedingly easier than expected.

“That depends entirely on whether it’s working.”

“Oh, it’s working,” you say, running your hands down to his abdomen. His hands rise to capture yours.

“Tt.”

Damian takes steps backward, leading you by the hands into his bedroom. Your leer grows even bigger. Oh, yes. You two lock eyes the whole while until you reach the foot of his bed, merriment and attraction dancing in both pairs.

You push him onto the bed, on all fours above him. You dive down for a deep kiss, tongue eager for a dance. Eventually it’s you who separates to breathe, panting lightly. The sight below you is one for sore eyes, Damian Wayne lying with eyes glazed with lust. He’s acting awfully agreeable, and you can’t say you don’t like it.

“Habibti, I want you.” Damian slides his hand to cup your crotch. You shiver, at his touch and his words.

“And you have me,” you say, voice warm. “Habibti.”

He smirks, probably thinking your accent could use some work.

“It’s Habibi, coming from you.”

You nod shyly, but you can have a lesson later. You’re about to slip off your pants when he brings your hand in between your bodies, placing it on his crotch. You sharply inhale. He’s hard, and straining against sinful, elastic tights.

“... And I mean, I want all of you.”

Your brows rise. So, he wanted to go all the way today? You feel your cheeks and crotch flood with heat. You find it easier to nod your head rapidly, lest you start barking. At your agreement, Damian’s face washes over with anticipation. You’re glad it’s not just you over the moon at the prospect.

You both rip your clothes off manically, laughing and elbows butting into each other’s sides. Damian expertly flips positions, boxing you in with his knees. You exclaim in surprise, a sound that drifts into shaky breaths and mewls of pleasure as he runs his fingers over your breasts, your stomach… He wets his fingers with his mouth before his digits start circling your clitoris.

You inhale sharply, mesmerized by the cyclical motion. Never until Damian has sex felt so flustering. Just watching his administrations was overwhelming, let alone the feeling– Your head reels back from an electric shock of pleasure. You gasp into the air.

"W-wait... wait, you have a condom, right…?" you whisper, though you have half a mind to just go without. You need him.

Damian tensed.

"I... I don't like how it feels." You raise a brow. You've heard condoms can feel like a second skin, especially nowadays. Then again, men were always complaining about them. It's not like you had the necessary equipment to confirm, so hell if you knew how it felt.

You place your hands on his cheeks, and his hands ghost over your wrists. You bite your lip.

"Well… Just this once? And if... it's that important to you, maybe I'll get on birth control–"

His head jerks as if struck, his brows furrowed.

“No.”

You stare, agape. There’s a small pause, both of you staring at the other. Damian’s face looks as though he’s betrayed himself. Your boyfriend didn’t strike you as so… traditionalist, to say the least. Lord knows you wouldn’t be with him if he was… so you will hear him out before nurturing any suspicion.

Sitting up on your forearms, you ask, “... What do you mean ‘no’?”

"I mean… I…” Damian sighs, looking utterly frustrated with himself. “I mean, you don’t need to.”

You blink and raise a brow, unimpressed.

“... Because?”

Damian’s jaw hardens. He grits out, “Because, I'm… sterile."

You flinch, purely from surprise. Damian merely stares, eyes narrowed in what you presume is annoyance at himself.

Uh. Okay, hello brand new information? Why hadn't this come up before? Well, it is pretty sensitive information. And since you hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, why would he have brought it up? And today was the first day you had even thought about kids. It… makes sense.

"Y-you are...?" You settle down, much like a cat whose hair is lowering from standing on end. "Okay… okay...” Damian remains stony, but he cringes at your clear relief.

Mistaking it as embarrassment, you quickly stroke his cheek. “No, baby, I'm sorry about that." You could assume it's quite emasculating. Men and their complexes about performing and wow, suddenly the breeding kink makes sense.

“So, you can’t…” you trail off. Knock me up? remains gracefully unsaid.

Damian nods stiffly. He really does hate lying to you like this. "I've been told it's very... unlikely." In reality, Damian knows his sperm count, and he's verified there should be no issues with reproduction. You both are in peak condition.

Despite the heat raging in your pants and your body begging can we just fuck already, you furrow your brows. All of this sounded fine, but it was still just… you needed specifics. To be safe. After all, there’s no rush, is there? Even if your pulsating cunt would beg to differ, painfully aware that two naked people were in a bed not doing naked-people-things.

"When did you get tested? And w-why? I mean, you're only twenty-one."

He waves his hand, snorting with his typical condescension. "I'm an heir to a dynasty – as soon as I was of age, it behooved us to know."

Us. That’s not a you-and-me “us”. You cringe, thinking about Talia and Ra's Al Ghul making it their business to know Damian's fertility. What an invasion of privacy for him… And no wonder he thought nothing of being in your body’s business as well.

"Well, unlikely is still possible, right?” You fear any surprises. Lord knows it would be just your luck to get fertilized by the un-fertilizable. You point at him. “And we should be using condoms anyway! It's not just pregnancy we should be afraid of."

Damian wants to assure you how insanely low the chances are of an infertile male getting anybody pregnant, and is about to do so, when his eyes narrow.

"Is there a reason we would need to protect against venereal diseases? There are none between the two of us." You flinch at his tone, colored with the acidity of jealousy. Suspicion.

The implication (accusation?) causes you to glare at him.

“...Yeahhh, okay,” you reply coldly. “Moment's ruined.”

You push him off you, but in a panic, he hisses your name. You flinch. At your wary expression, the color drains from his face.

“I… I’m sorry,” he says, brows furrowed and looking utterly ashamed. “I… I’m sorry.” You don’t meet his eyes, simply nodding. He places kisses on your wrist, shoulder, nose. Damian sometimes had his moods, although he was truly confusing you today.

“It’s fine, really,” you reassure. And it’s true, it was mainly the heat of the moment. You were sure Damian could never really scare you.

Your words don’t persuade the shame and fear out of his eyes or lighten the heaviness of his brow. You smile, huffing. Taking his face into your heads, you kiss him chastely on the forehead, nose tip, both cheeks. Until you punctuate the action with a kiss to his lips.

“Damian, really.”

Damian nods stiffly. He’ll never truly forgive himself, but he’s probably okay enough for now.

You shift on the bed, and there’s the telltale sensitivity between your thighs. Damn it. You still want him. You two stare at each other, still very naked and aroused. You turn the idea in your head … He’s sterile, right? And pregnancy is your only reservation.

As if hearing your thoughts, Damian’s face fills with determination.

“... I-it’s–” okay, let’s have sex anyway, you are going to finish.

“I’ll do it,” he interrupts. You blink. He leans toward you, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. You’re sure he’s about to kiss you, when he suddenly withdraws.

Your eyes catch the glimmer of some metallic object. He holds a silver square wrapper in between his fingers, likely plucked from beneath his pillow.

You look at him, and he says frankly, “I’ll do anything for you.”

You melt… before grinning, catlike. “My, my. So it seems Mr. I-Don’t-Like-Condoms still prepares a contingency plan. Very Son of Batman of you–”

“Shut it,” he groans, dotting kisses along your neck to make you do just that.

You feel relief flood your bloodstream. Then it is quickly replaced with raging desire. Oh, finally.

“Lay back,” he says, too soft to be an order. You do so without fanfare, a little curious as to why he’s not following you. Then you see him scoot back, feel him hike up your lower half, and you feel a thrill of excitement.

You squeak, feeling your ass leaving the bed entirely. A pillow is quickly placed underneath, and you are feeling quite pampered.

There’s curious licks along your labia, to which you twitch.

Damian finds his way to your clitoris, suckling and stroking heavily with his tongue.

“Hhnngh,” you speak. Keep going. Right there.

“Truly, a poet,” Damian’s voice says, muffled. You bite your lip, unable to retort because it feels too good. Damian is curious, experimenting. You know he’s gamifying this, responding and changing his strategies entirely on what draws the most unintelligible noise out of you. He slips his tongue in, and you grasp at his hair. He responds by pumping it back and forth.

Eventually, you do fear he’ll bring you to orgasm with this alone, when you both have more plans for the evening.

You wipe a layer of sweat from your temple, panting. “I’m ready. I’m ready,” you say, tugging meekly at short black locks.

Damian hums, and the vibration hits you straight in the clit. He sits up on his forearms, lips delightfully messy. His cheeks are ruddy and his brows are pinched with effort, chest heaving for breath. He looks very good like this.

“I’m ready,” you say again. Damian doesn’t need to be told twice. Your head hits the back of the pillow, and you close your eyes as you catch your breath. You hear the rustling and discarding of a condom wrapper. Damian positions himself accordingly, hands sunk into the bed on either side of your waist.

“Ready?” he asks. His eyes hold… shyness, if you can believe it. You stroke his cheek, grinning.

“Always ready for you,” you respond. You make sure to sit up. You want to see.

You watch, fascinated, as the head of Damian’s cock slowly disappears into your body. The consonance between seeing it and feeling it only stokes the fire of your arousal.

You moan openly, the sound making your ears heat. Damian dares to chuckle, and you claw his back in retaliation.

“Oh, shut up, and go deeper,” you breathe, eyes fluttering with pleasure. You didn’t realize how much you missed this. The feeling of being filled, of being full. You didn’t realize you could miss something you never had as well – Damian felt like he belonged in you. You feel every inch of you work to accommodate his sudden presence.

“And how can I deny such a request?” he gasps aloud, voice strained.

You feel more than a little pride that you were among the few who could make Damian bend to your whims with this (or any) level of subservience. The proud, proud Damian Wayne. The same Damian that sinks into you further, into your tight, hot wetness. He finally bottoms out and you exhale.

“You’re… a perfect… fit,” you say, dazed and in between pants.

Little do you know the resulting pang that shoots into his groin at that statement. He grasps you harder, maybe even enough to bruise. He needs you badly. He needs to fill you badly.

Damian leans even more forward, and you squeal. You’re just along for the ride at this point. He does all the necessary machinations to fold you in half, thighs bending back.

"W-wait," you stutter, but it falls on deaf ears.

He’s really stretching the limits of your flexibility here. Before you know it, you’re in a mating press.

“Damian,” you moan, because you’re too overstimulated to say much else.

“You’re perfect,” he says into the shell of your ear. “You can take this. You were made for this.” You nod, slack-jawed. He rocks into you, skin slapping against skin as your pelvises meet. Your eyes flutter and roll back.

“I could spend forever filling you up. I could spend forever watching it spill out of you.”

You close your eyes, cheeks aflame, much too embarrassed by his perverse whispers. You feel … almost ashamed at how much it arouses you. Almost. Majorly, it’s fulfilling a dark fantasy you didn’t know you liked.

“... Come inside me,” you breathe, unable to say anything more. You were embarrassed enough. He was using a condom, it was assumed he would be. But hopefully he’d see you were participating in his little fantasy, that you liked it too…

His thrusts are unyielding, and they only get harder, faster, more desperate as the time passes. Damian finishes with a groan, his abs clenching and flexing with effort.

You welcome it, taking it all because he’s right, you were made for this. In this moment, it’s like you were entirely made for this.

To your surprise, there’s sudden stroking on your throbbing clit, and that brings you to the finish line as well.

Your head jerks back violently, body snapping to attention as you ride the wave of an orgasm. A gasp by your ear. You’re clenching around Damian’s length, wringing him dry.

He collapses, narrowly keeping himself from squashing you flat. The two of you are a tangle of sweaty limbs, chests heaving.

“You’ve got to get out of me sometime,” you tease.

You’ve both been lying like this, too taxed to move for maybe ten minutes now.

“Is that so? Honestly, I could die here without complaint,” Damian says, and you get the feeling he’s dead serious. Nevertheless, he rolls away. He does not let you go far, wrapping his arms around you. You shiver at the feeling of him unsheathing himself, suddenly feeling empty.

… And wet. Wetter than expected.

You keep from flushing. Damn, you were really enamored with him, it seems.

You rub your thighs together, relishing in the feeling. Until you pause.

… No, like, you’re really wet.

You slowly sit up, investigating. To your surprise, you’re leaking… cum. And clearly not just your own. It’s smattered down your thighs, sticky. When you pause and can literally feel the cum drip out of you, you exclaim.

“Fuck… fuck.” You put a hand to your dripping cunt, and are surprised when it indeed comes back wet and pearlescent white. It’s for real.

“What’s wrong?” you hear, but you hardly register it.

You pull at a scrap of wrinkled plastic, pulling it out. The condom is shredded. It broke.

“Damian. It broke.”

You stare at it dumbly. It broke. You feel the onset of fear creep by… it’s held at bay, when you feel Damian hushing you, stroking your shoulders.

Damian holds you, asks why are you worrying…? He told you there’s no way. He can’t, he’s sterile.

You dumbly nod, combating fear by reasoning with yourself. Well… you were about to have sex without it anyway, after all. What does it matter if the condom broke?

You suppose it’s just the shock of a failsafe… well, failing to save you. So why do you feel so disconcerted? What’s this niggling feeling, you wonder. You stare at your inner thighs. His cum paints you like a mark.

“It’s nigh impossible,” Damian states. He’s doing what he does best – nullifying your emotions with facts. He pulls you back into his arms, your back against his chest. “The condom was really for your peace of mind. It’s not like it did anything.”

You don’t speak, simply staring at the condom in your hand. You nod.

“Really, there’s no point in wearing condoms from now on anyway. They break.”

Damian’s fingers trace circles on the bone of your shoulders. “I mean, they’re practically pointless. And either way–”

With his long reach, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He pulls up an article, illustrating the likelihood of him successfully inseminating you.

“See?” he says. “It’s not a factor.”

Unwilling to let whatever strange funk you’ve entered ruin the afterglow of your orgasm, you nod again. You turn your head halfway, smiling. Of course, without missing a beat, Damian kisses you sweetly.

To hell with the condom. And to hell with getting stuck in your head. Lord knows you overthink everything. It’s as Damian says.

His fingers dance on your abdomen, and it tickles.

It’s impossible.

#yandere damian wayne #yandere batfam #damian wayne x reader #girllllll #i just have to post this already im tired #mine

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 3 months

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Blue Swede - Hooked on a Feeling 1973

"Hooked on a Feeling" is a 1968 pop song, written by Mark James and originally performed by B.J. Thomas. Thomas's version featured the sound of the electric sitar (played by Reggie Young) and reached No. 5 in 1969 on the Billboard Hot 100.

In 1973, the Swedish poprock group Blue Swede did a cover version, which included the ooga chaka introduction from a 1971 cover by Jonathan King. King had heard Johnny Preston's "Running Bear", which was the inspiration for the ooga chaka chant. This version reached number one in the US in 1974.

In 1992, Blue Swede's recording was featured on the soundtrack of Quentin Tarantino's debut feature Reservoir Dogs.

In the mid-90's, the Dancing Baby "sk_baby.max" model became one of the first viral memes. The animation was also shown on several episodes of the 1998 legal comedy-drama series Ally McBeal as a recurring hallucination, suggesting a metaphor for the ticking of Ally's biological clock, and was accompanied by Blue Swede's "Hooked on a Feeling". Various commercial advertisements presented the Dancing Baby animation to international markets continuing the mainstream media attention. This particular manifestation of the video, bound to the song, is widely distributed and referred to as the "Ooga Chaka Baby", further cementing the scene in pop culture history.

The 2014 film Guardians of the Galaxy, which featured the brass fanfare and title lyrics of the Blue Swede cover version prominently in its trailers and theatrical release, resulted in a significant spike in sales for the recording; the film's soundtrack reached the top of the Billboard 200 chart in August 2014. The song was also featured in the teaser trailer for the 2017 sequel, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2.

Blue Swede's frontman is singer/actor Björn Skifs. He did the Swedish dub of Woody in the first two Toy Story movies, as well as singing in stead of Phil Collins in the Swedish dub of Brother Bear.

"Hooked on a Feeling" received a total of 81,9% yes votes!

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misirosekisiro · 6 months

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Bullied No More 1 - 3

เป็นเรื่องที่เหนื่อยมากต้องแก้เยอะมาก ๆ พอตัวละครโผล่มาหลายคน AI ก็สับสนไปหมด ไม่นับพยายาบจับให้เอากันกลางถนน 555 น่าจะต้องพักบ้างหลังเรื่องนี้ ช่วงนี้สนุกกับการเล่นกับ AI มากไปหน่อยกลางคืนนี่บางทีเกือบเช้าเพราะติดพัน

Chapter 1

As Shota trudged along the damp hallways towards another grueling day at high school, he couldn't escape the relentless whispers that followed him. It wasn't surprising - the rumours of his submissiveness toward Ryuji Namisawa, the most dominant figure within the social hierarchy, had only served to fuel the gossip mill further. What few knew, however, was that beneath Shota's gentle exterior lay a simmering reservoir of bitterness and vengeance waiting to explode.

Ever since the fateful encounter when Ryuji humiliated him publically, Shota had been scheming behind closed doors – seeking retribution through the most intimate means possible. This obsession consumed him, leaving little room for anything else in his once simple existence. To achieve this twisted goal, Shota sought out the aid of his closest confidante, Akira Ikegami. While seemingly unaffected by the cruel world around them, both boys shared a dark side that yearned for power, domination, and conquest.

In the dimly lit library corridor where they met clandestinely, Akira listened attentively as Shota divulged his plans of taking control of Ryuji's life by any means necessary. With each word spoken, his fascination grew stronger until finally, Akira found himself unable to resist participating in such an intriguing scheme.

Agreeing wholeheartedly, Akira revealed his own desires regarding Ryuji’s appearance—a fact that added further fuel to the fire igniting deep within Shota.

Their discussion continued well past sunset, the two bonding over mutual loathing for the oppressive regime that governed their lives. Together, they decided upon a course of action that would ultimately bring ruin upon those responsible for their suffering.

Their resolve only intensified when they stumbled across rumors circulating throughout the school regarding an experimental serum capable of transforming individuals into whatever physical embodiment they desired. They dubbed this mysterious potion 'the Miracle Drug.' Knowing full well how much Ryuji prized his image, Shota saw an opportunity here. If this substance could truly grant anyone their wildest fantasies, then why not seize the chance to become someone untouchable? And thus began their quest for the elusive Elixir...

Driven by adrenaline and ambition, the duo set forth on their mission to obtain the highly coveted Miracle Drug. It's not easy work. Most of information is just rumor. They decide to drive in dark web, the most deep illigal part of internet.

There you can find almost all secrets hidden and illegal things. But if got caught there, serious consequences await them. Risky as it may be, the potential rewards far outweigh the risks. After several hours spent browsing countless websites, They found some little hint about where of that "Miracle drug". A rumor about "The Dealer" who sell it. But prolblem lie here. No one have specific location about "The Dealer". Some say he at the Abadon Storage near dock, some confirm meet him at backdoor of normal clothes store. No one tell same story.

Each person give different answer. It's confusing. Shota frustrated. He worried about time too. They must act fast before other people discover this amazing Miracle drug and change body of everyone around them. Finally, they agree to investigate every lead separately. Akira would search for clues online, whilst Shota hit the streets asking questions directly to locals. Maybe combined efforts increase chances of finding The Dealer quickly. For now, they continue searching alone but promised to meet later at a pre-determined rendezvous point. The game begins.

Each day brings new challenges and opportunities, yet with each passing moment, Shota feels ever closer to achieving his ultimate objective. Akira seems equally determined, dedicating countless late nights combing through various websites dedicated to the topic. However, despite these apparent progresses, there still remained no concrete evidence pointing them in the right direction. Frustration mounts with each fruitless endeavor, yet neither gives up hope nor cease trying. Their tenacity only grows with every obstacle faced, forging a fierce determination in pursuing the path to success.

But like their activity was observed. One night during Akira dive in to reach more information. He got a private message on his phone.

"Abandon clinic, near Kanda river."

This messge not tell anything else. Akira don't even know is mysteries messge will it relate to "The Dealer" or not, who sent it, how they know his number.

All question flooded his head. Still he didn't want let go this possibility. He took courage and started driving towards that strange place. On his way, he thought hard about what might happen. How many times already he dreamt of meeting the guy who could solve all their problems and grant them supremacy. Yet he never expected reality to feel so surreal. He felt excited, fearful, and invested all at once, swallowing hard, trying to suppress the nerves running rampant inside him.

Shota doesn't need to look for answers anymore.

When he steps onto the street corner leading to the abandoned clinic, he knows beyond doubt that he's arrived at the heart of darkness itself. A cold wind blows past him, sending eerie chills down his spine. His breath forms tiny clouds as he draws closer to the entrance of the dilapidated building. As Shota stands hesitantly outside its grim walls, something tells him that fate lies concealed somewhere amidst these broken fragments of history.

He slowly opens the door creaking loudly, causing the echo to bounce off the cracked walls.

Chapter 2

Shota tentatively pushes open the door, a mix of excitement and apprehension filling him. Inside, the abandoned clinic appears larger than he initially anticipated, with its dusty hallways stretching far into the distance. Pools of moonlight filter through the dirty windows, casting grotesque shadows upon the decaying walls. Unnerved, Shota takes slow, careful steps forward, acutely aware of the silence surrounding him.

It feels like he's trespassing on forbidden ground, entering a world cloaked in mystery and danger. With each step, his pulse quickens, and his palms grow slick with sweat. He looks warily around, eyes scanning every shadow, expecting something sinister to materialize from the gloom.

Slipping past forgotten exam tables and old medical equipment littering the floor, Shota wonders whether this ominous location holds any promise of salvation.

"Shota!, there" Akira point to a desk, a chair behind it got one man sitting in the dark. His appearance was cloak in darkness. But both can guess form the shadow that, the man wear in black hooded jacket. Hide his face under the shadow.

A silent observer watching their movements closely. Slowly getting up from his seat, he starts walking towards them. Both boys instinctively retreat deeper into the shadows, their hearts thumping madly in their chests.

“Who…who are you?” stammered Shota, his voice quavering with anxiety.

“Why did you send us that cryptic message?”

As if sensing their unease, the mysterious figure stepped forward confidently, the moonlight cast upon his features, allowing them to see his silhouette clearly. A tall, broad shouldered individual shrouded in black clothing stood before them, his hooded jacket obscuring much of his facial features. Except for his piercing gaze, which seemed to penetrate straight through their souls. Intrigue melded with fear, mixed with a sense of curiosity.

Shota glanced at Akira, sharing identical expressions of astonishment and apprehension etched upon their faces. Feeling increasingly exposed by the stranger's probing scrutiny, Shota couldn't help but notice how gracefully the enveloping darkness appeared to embrace the unknown figure, heightening his air of mystique. The atmosphere hung heavy with trepidation as both boys nervously shifted their weight from foot to foot, unsure of what to expect next.

With deliberate slowness, the figure drew nearer, gradually revealing his true identity.

"You come here not to know anything about me, right? You know what you really wantand that's the reason you came looking for me," said the stranger, his tone laced with a subtle undertone of amusement.

"And you won't leave until I fulfill your request, correct?"

Both boys nodded solemnly, feeling relieved at finally reaching this decisive moment. Nervously, Shota asked, "What do we call you?"

"To others, I am known simply as The Dealer."

An unexpected thrill ran through Shota and Akira upon hearing this title. This had been the name whispered among fellow students, passed along in hushed whispers - the legendary figure they sought.

Reality dawned upon them, leaving the two boys wide-eyed in disbelief. The sudden realization that they were in the presence of such infamy left them speechless, their minds racing with the implications of the situation.

"Only one thing that i can answer that your question. No i'm not lead both of you here. It's only a your "Desire", Deepest, Darkest of your desire bring you here."

The Dealer pick 2 vials form his pocket and show it to the boys.

The contents within seemingly undistinguished, however, the power contained within those vessels rendered them priceless. "These contain a rare substance, One who take it. They soul will... no no i can't tell that. But just know that anyone who take it will turn to be a lifeless skin. A bodysuit, wait for new owner to wear. And.. Anyone who wear it will take over everything form privious owner, Appearance, ability even memory."

The Dealer continued. "Imagine having complete control over someone else's life, controlling their existence, making decisions on their behalf, living in their shoes. Isn't that enticing?"

His words resonated deeply within the boys, sparking hidden fantasies and stirring ambitions buried deep within their psyche. Their hearts raced faster, their palms grew moist again. They exchanged meaningful glances, understanding one another without uttering a single word.

"But please take note this seriouly" The Dealer add while look at the vials. "It's no turning back, One who take it, no ways to turn back to life again. May can call they just "dead". And one who wear a skin, after progress finish. It's no ways to take it off. It's will seal deal your destiny to previous owner life."

The Dealer says solemnly, drawing out the final consequences of their decision.

Looking at the vials, Shota and Akira felt a sudden surge of adrenaline course through their veins. They knew exactly what they wanted—to take control of Ryuji's life and humiliate him in return for years of mistreatment. This was the perfect opportunity to exact vengeance on their nemesis and reclaim their dignity. Akira nodded eagerly, confirming their shared resolve.

Without further hesitation, they reached toward the vials, fingers trembling slightly as they going to contact with the precious cargo. But The Dealer move them form their grab.

"Shuu.. Don't you forget, everything come with price. "

Say The Dealer, placing the vials safely away from their grasp.

Feeling frustrated yet determined, Shota pleaded earnestly, "Please, we really need this! Our lives depend on it!"

Surprised by Shota's fervent reaction, The Dealer studied him intently. Satisfied with his conviction, he gave a slight nod, conceding.

"So how much you will pay.. for them" The Dealer ask while playing with vials in his hand.

"How much willing to give up your own lives for sake of their future happiness? Remember, once taken, this potion cannot be reversed."

Inside Shota’s heart, conflicting emotions raged – fear of losing his freedom versus yearning for retribution against Ryuji. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized the gravity of their predicament. Desperately, he looked to Akira, seeking reassurance. Seeing the uncertainty mirrored in his best friend's expression, Shota took a deep breath and made his choice.

With unwavering determination, he declared, "We'll do whatever it takes." He turned his attention back to The Dealer, resolute in his decision. "Whatever the cost may be, we're ready to accept our fates."

Akira nodded affirmatively, fully committing to Shota's resolution. His gaze held a mixture of admiration and respect for his courageous friend, recognizing the depth of their bond transcended mere friendship. Trust flowed freely between them, emboldened by their mutual goals.

"Whatever? That sound confidnce. Good... So you agree for what ever price, right?"

Said The Dealer with his cold voice. Shota gulped hard, accepting his fate. Akira nodded strongly, showing full commitment to Shota's decision. Their loyalty bound them together tightly despite being polar opposites. The Dealer studied them keenly, taking in all these details. He appreciated seeing this kind of devotion amongst humans.

"Yes!" both confirm intently.

The Dealer eye seem like got a spaking red light shine for a sec. He show a cold smile. Then he bring 2 scrolls of parchments form the desk's drawer. It's look ancient, perhaps older than many other things in the area. Like pages from book long ago lost. Both boys can see -sales contract- writing on the top of scroll while the Dealer place it on the desk.

"Read them carfully, I really mean it. This contract is very... i must say, what is write, it's seriously mean that."

Shota read carefully each line written on the ancient scroll, while trying to ignore the pit of dread forming in his stomach. After skimming the entire document, he swallowed heavily, his throat dry. There wasn't enough time to consider their options now.

Akira followed suit, poring over the arcane text meticulously. Fear lurked beneath the surface of his otherwise calm exterior. Though cautiously optimistic, they understood the risk involved in signing these documents.

He wonder, on the payment was write - Whatever - as both of them just said while ago. But how?, Noways The Dealer can write that in just a blink, He just bring scroll form the desk and place it on the desk and doesn't touch it after place them.

He looks directly at Shota, then glance at Akira. "Alright kiddo, this paper means serious business, understand?"

Shota nodded anxiously, a knot forming in his chest. He wished there was some way to retreat from this dark path, but he knew it was too late. Resolutely, he replied, "We understand."

Turning to Akira, The Dealer braced himself firmly. "Your friend here knows the risks, right?"

Akira nodded gravely, displaying a mix of unease and fortitude.

Both boys acknowledged the severity of their choices. Intense concentration filled the silence as they scanned the dense legalese, taking note of the ominous provisions detailed within the scroll. Finally, Shota signed the agreement, marking its completion. A faint trace of apprehension remained visible across his features, underscoring the weightiness of the decision he had just made. He handed the quill back to The Dealer, hoping it would signify closure on this tumultuous journey.

The Dealer checking the both scrolls, before rolls it and keep it in under his jacket.

"Remeber, strick to the contract." The Dealer, whispering add. Then he turn back and walk deep inside a darkness of abadon clinic. He slide the door close behind him. then left nothing but silent.

Akira feel so curious, he dare himself to walk in follow the Dealer. Open the door that the Dealer just closed. He open it, It's just a dark and abadon examination room, no other exit nor windows, but the Dealer gone.

Looking around, Akira notice old equipment scattered throughout the room, likely abandoned when funding dried up. Pieces of broken machinery lay strewn haphazardly about, rust eating away at their metal frames. A solitary skeleton key rested amidst the chaos, hinting at forgotten secrets buried beneath layers of dust.

Shota touch his shoulder form the back, Shota just follow him and look inside the room. His face turn grim.

"Where is him?, this room is dead end" Shota asked in fear.

"I don't know also..."

They both decide just let's it go. This "The Dealer" is also mysteries thing, same to "Miracle drug" that he belongs.

No one seems know anything about them or whereabouts. Even if people want find this person or thing, none could get any reliable information. It's like trying hunt down shadow of yourself or dreams. The only known fact is 'If you can't find 'em, maybe they will find you.'

As they returned home from their ill-fated meeting with The Dealer, Shota start to forget about that "The Dealer", his mind now focus on vials in his hand, while on the bed. He look in the vials, that contain a "Miracle drug".

His fingers were trembling with excitement and trepidation. Was this truly the power he needed to seek vengeance on Ryuji and rewrite his life forever?

Chapter 3

At next moring, Shota and Akira discussing how to work as their plot. It's not possible for now for them to get close to Ryuji, who always got people around. Also Ryuji's family is wealthy family, His Mansion even got guards take care of security. No ways 2 normal boys can breakin. So as a plan, They need help of Ryuji's best friend identity. Hiroki.

Now how to get close to Hiroki and trap him while he alone. And make him take a "Miracle drug"?

Shota thought aloud. The idea seemed plausible since Hiroki was frequently seen alone during breaks, making him easier to approach. However, Akira cautioned that such a strategy might require great tactical planning. And indeed, capturing someone without them knowing proved difficult. Nonetheless, the two teenagers resolved to put their heads together and develop a foolproof plan.

Days passed in meticulous preparation. Shota researched Ryuji's schedule, studying patterns to predict his routine.

Akira observed and analyzed potential locations for ambush, selecting an isolated spot near the school track field. During weekends, Hiroki frequented the park for jogging sessions. Together, they strategized various scenarios for trapping Hiroki alone.

While discussing the logistics, Akira brought up the issue of ensuring his cooperation without raising suspicion. Given the delicate nature of their mission, failure meant exposure of their intentions and jeopardizing the success of their ultimate plans. Hence, persuasion became crucial.

On the morning designated for execution, they arrived early at the park entrance, waiting patiently for Hiroki's arrival. Sneakily concealed among bushes, they closely monitored every passerby, narrowing their focus solely on Hiroki.

Drenched in perspiration due to mounting anticipation, Akira shifted slightly in his hiding spot, causing branches to brush against his bare arms. A sudden breeze rustled through the leaves overhead, casting eerie whispers upon the young conspirators. Nervous energy radiated off both boys, palpable as static electricity in the cool air.

Finally, Hiroki appeared. A warm ray of sunlight filtered through the thick foliage surrounding them, bathing his silhouette in a golden glow.

Hiroki approached the park entrance, looking relaxed and unfettered. Yet unbeknownst to him, danger loomed closer by the second. Unseen eyes watched his movements, calculating the precise moment to strike. Patience and timing would determine whether they achieved victory or suffered defeat.

As Akira continued monitoring the situation, Shota crept out from his hiding spot, approaching Hiroki stealthily. He was determined to carry out their sinister plan, though doubts still plagued him. Would they succeed in getting past the barriers erected by reality?

Only time would tell. Meanwhile, Shota's heart raced wildly in his chest as he neared Hiroki. Silent footsteps carried him closer to his unsuspecting prey. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the gravity of his own conscience. Gritting his teeth, he clung onto the conviction that this was necessary for retribution.

Suddenly, Akira signalled him urgently, pointing to the corner of the park ahead. Without hesitation, Shota veered toward his indicated destination.

His breath quickened in anticipation as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Heart racing, he reached the predetermined spot moments later. Ducking low behind a tree trunk, he maintained eye contact with Akira for reassurance. Seeing confirmation, Shota began his maneuvers with calculated precision. Sliding through the leaf-covered ground, he steadied himself and prepared for the final leg of their operation.

Meanwhile, Akira kept watch nearby, alert to any signs of suspicion emanating from Hiroki.

Then it's a time!.

As Hiroki approached the edge of the park entrance, unaware of the perilous game being played above him, Shota and Akira executed his well-rehearsed attack flawlessly. Swiftly emerging from their hiding spot, they swiftly subdued the unsuspecting victim.

In a matter of seconds, they bound Hiroki securely with ropes taken from his bag, rendering him immobile. Panicked yet unable to cry out, Hiroki struggled futilely against his bonds. After see who attack him. He raise his shout in angry.

"How dare you! these 2 maggots!" Hiroki remeber both prey well, as he join Ryoji on bully both of them.

But instead of answer, both boys know well they need to act quick. Even it's no people around here now, but if let's Hiroki shout. Who know what happen. Akira pick a vials form his pocket.

"This should do," he muttered, his voice tinged with apprehension. Both boys help to open Hiroki's mouth wide, he struggle to advoid no matter what this boys try to feed him. But in the end, that mysteries mixture was pour into Hiroki's mouth.

Feeling disoriented and lightheaded, Hiroki started losing consciousness. Unable to resist anymore, he succumbed to the effects of the potion. Within minutes, Hiroki fell limply into the grass below, his senses lost in a sea of oblivion.

Grim satisfaction filled Akira's gaze as he stared down at the helpless figure lying motionless before him. He glanced over at Shota, conveying a mix of triumph and relief via subtle facial expressions.

Now both of them is eye-witness of what effect of "Miracle drug".

It's start with unconcious Hiroki body slowly deflat like a ballon lost its air. His clothes start to loose since it's seem like all Hiroki muscle and bone was slowly disappear.

Seeing this transformation happening right before their eyes was horrifying and surreal. Shota couldn't believe his eyes as the once robust Hiroki transformed into a frail, boneless body – an empty shell. This sickening sight sent shivers down his spine, a combination of horror and fascination taking hold of him. Akira stood there, silent and stoic, observing the unfolding process intently.

His brow furrowed with deep concern as the realization dawned upon him - Hiroki was essentially gone. In their hands lay nothing less than absolute power over human flesh. Overwhelmed by the implications of their newfound abilities, Akira found solace in companionship. Turning towards Shota, he nodded solemnly, acknowledging the weight of their decision.

Despite the undeniably macabre setting, something else stirred within Shota - a sense of empowerment mixed with lustful curiosity.

Now they both pick every Hiroki's clothes, shoes, sock, underwear to Akira's backpack.

They took away everything that represent Hiroki, leaving the empty skin. Both boys feel some kind of shock when seeing this lifeless, emotionless body. It's hard to belive this was same person few hours ago full of spirit and strength. Now he becomes mere husk left behind. For first time, Shota feels sadness and pity about his enemy Ryuji. What had been done to him? How much pain did he experience?. That feeling makes his hatred softens.

Then Akira fold Hiroki's skinsuit, it's seem light in his hand, feel like a leather, thin leather skinsuit.

The silence between them spoke volumes as they contemplated the magnitude of their crime. Both boys were aware of the consequences awaiting them, but they had come too far to falter now. Their thirst for vengeance burned stronger than ever, fueling their determination to bring justice upon those who wronged them. Shota knew that the road ahead was treacherous, marked by deceit, betrayal, and dark desires.

Both boys looking for some hidden place in the park. For Akira will wear Hiroki's skin. Then they foundplace in the corner of the park, shielded by tall trees which provide enough cover for them.

Akira remove Hiroki's belongs form his backpack, also Hiroki's bodysuit.

"Ready?" Akira ask Shota firmly.

Shota respond with affirmative nod.

With steady hands, Akira began peeling off his clothes methodically, revealing his toned physique beneath. Clad only in briefs, he turned to face Shota, challenging him with a fierce expression. Then he take off his briefs. Akira now standing full nake. His face turn red with shy.

Akira now pick the Hiroki's skinsuit in his both and, a figure of Hiroki but flatten like a empty body suit. His finger touch it, it's just feel like tough anyone skin, just empty inside. He checking it where to start. But see no open or zip to open the skinsuit.

Akira confused how does it work?, he looks up to Shota with questioning eyes. "Isn't zippers usually used?" Akira asks, puzzled. Shota tries to recall the details from his research.

Hm may i try this? Akira thought, He move both and to a mouth of Hiroki's skinsuit. then pull it. Wonder what he see, the mouth of suit just open wide as he pull, not see a tear off sign. It's like pull a very elastic rubber.

Akira said surprised about the material of the suit. He pull it wide enough for him to put his leg in. Then he adjust his leg inside, to match with Hiroki's skin suit leg. It's prove need a bit try to fit him in each feet'stoenail.

After some struggling, Akira managed to wiggle his leg into the strange garment. Though initially loose, the fabric soon conformed to the shape of his limbs, allowing movement despite its unusual texture.

As Akira pulled the suit higher along his body, he marvelled at its flexibility. It seemed almost alive, adapting seamlessly to his form. His mind swirling with questions, Shota standing and help Akira to adjust each finger to fit with Hiroki skinsuit's finger.

Finally Akira able to pull the rest of the skinsuit covering his upper body until his shoulder, neck, and finally reaching his head. Now, it's look wried for Shota that look at Akira in Hiroki's skin. Since Hiroki build was bigger and taller. It's like Akira try to fit himself in loose clothes. But then it's happen.

A sudden surge of energy flowed through Akira, A loose skinsuit start to fill in, it's like body of Akira inside was expanding, filling the gap. In no time, no more Alien like figure try to wear human skin in MIB. Standing there is Hiroki, full nake, but it him with Akira full control inside.

While Akira wearing Hiroki's skin, his movements became fluid and precise, mimicking Hiroki's own. Yet, something felt different. An otherworldly essence clung to Akira, hinting at an uneasy alliance between two souls separated by reality. Unnerved by this connection, Akira tried to ignore it, focusing solely on mastering Hiroki's body language.

Looking deeply into Hiroki's eyes, Shota realized that he was witnessing an incredible transformation.

Not only had Akira perfectly replicated Hiroki's physicality, but he had also adopted his mannerisms, manner of speech, and even posture. Stunned, Shota stepped closer to observe Akira in astonishment.

"Unbelievable," he whispered, marveling at the likeness. His initial fear gave way to an eerie admiration. Shota could barely conceal his growing arousal at the sight of Akira dressed in Hiroki's skin.

Watching Akira effortlessly imitate Hiroki's gestures and mannerisms amplified the eroticism tenfold. Feeling the sexual chemistry intensify between them, Shota tentatively approached Akira, gripped by an insatiable urge to explore the boundaries of their relationship.

Eyes locked onto each other, neither wanting to break the momentary spell. As Shota reached out to grasp Akira's waist, their fingers intertwined briefly, heightening the anticipation coursing through their veins.

"Not yet friend" Akira said in Hiroki's voice.

His tone suddenly shifted to mirror Hiroki's playfully teasing attitude.

"We do it later when you as Ryuji, to grant us a prize."

Akira continued in Hiroki's voice, laughing devilishly.

Akira nod, he start to dressing in Hiroki's belongs.

First thing he take is Hiroki's underwear. It's tight fitting black compression pants, made from stretchy fabric designed to hug his legs snuggly. These would be perfect for his mission. Following these, he puts on Hiroki's running shoes, comfortable and durable footwear ideal for training activities. Lastly, he grabs Hiroki's tracksuit bottoms, providing comfort and freedom of movement during strenuous exercises. Finally, he selects Hiroki's track jacket, giving him protection from cold weather conditions whilst maintaining mobility. All these items were carefully chosen based on their functionality and compatibility with Akira's needs.

Standing there, no more Akira, just Hiroki.

Even though his body was inhabited by Akira's consciousness, Shota still struggled to accept this chilling transformation. Trembling slightly, he studied the familiar-looking stranger before him. The resemblance was uncanny, making Shota wonder if he should trust Akira in this new role.

Hiroki, sensing Shota's hesitation, smiled knowingly. "There's no reason to worry, my dear friend.

I won't let anything bad happen to you." Hiroki said, placing a reassuring hand on Shota's shoulder. As Shota looked down, he noticed the striking differences between Hiroki's hands and his own – the calluses on Hiroki's palms, testament to years spent practicing sports.

Intrigued by the contrast, Shota asked curiously, "What are these lines here, around your fingertips?"

Smiling playfully, Hiroki replied, "Oh, those?

Those are called 'calluses'. You develop them when you regularly participate in certain sports, like soccer, for example. When your muscles contract repeatedly, friction occurs between your hands and whatever surface you're pressing against—that creates these small bumps."

As Shota listened intently, fascinated by the explanation, he couldn't help but notice the subtle difference in Hiroki's scent compared to Akira's – a mix of fresh air, perspiration, and underlying hints of masculinity.

Mesmerized by the unique blend, Shota drew closer, attempting to identify the specific components contributing to this enthralling fragrance.

Suddenly, Hiroki suggested, "Why don't we walk around the park a little? I think it might clear our minds, helping us focus better on our plans." Shota nodded eagerly, grateful for the opportunity to spend more time in Hiroki's presence.

"You know, slowly, but constantly I start to remember everything of Hiroki's memory." Akira's add. "It's start to flash in, It's like everything he use to do, i do it experienced it myself. But my memory, feeling, everything also be there untouch."

Akira explained with serious note. "So I can understand why Hiroki likes this place so much. There’s a peaceful calmness here. And I can sense a part of him too."

The wind rustled softly through the leaves overhead, creating a serene ambiance for the duo as they strolled casually through the park. Every step they took brought forth memories and experiences etched deep within Hiroki's soul - a rich tapestry that connected past and present.

While walking side by side, Shota couldn't help but compare the real Hiroki to the impostor wearing his skin. Despite being visibly identical, there remained traces of Akira's individual personality emanating from Hiroki's altered expressions and demeanor. This revelation piqued Shota's curiosity, driving him to delve deeper into understanding their shared psychological bond.

"Let's me say, It's like while i'm Akira, I'm also can act as Hiroki in the same time like i born as Hiroki." Akika smile to his friend.

Shota feel a bit strange, Hiroki who is his tormentor. Smile warmly to him. He know that Akira inside, but it can't be help form what he encounter until now. Akira see Shota and know how he feel, He touch Shota's shoulder.

"Dont' worry, I always be Akira for you even in this skin."

Akira continue to smile, showing his confidence. Looking back towards Shota, he could detect a mixture of relief and surprise on his face. Shota didn't know exactly how to react; however, he understood that it was essential to regain his composure since Akira appeared genuine in expressing his intentions.

As they walked beneath the canopy of trees scattered throughout the park, the sunlight filtered through the branches, casting gentle patterns upon the ground below. The tranquil environment allowed both Shota and Akira to process their complex feelings and emotions surrounding this unexpected situation.

"You know, form what i learn form Hiroki's memory. I think i know how to trap Ryuji for you."

Akira say confidently, grinning maliciously. "He usually hang out at some places. Like cafés and parks near school."

"How can we guarantee he doesn't suspect anything when we interact with him?" Shota inquires skeptically.

"Suspect me! fifty maggot! how Ryuji, my best frind will suspect his dear friend, Hiroki!" Akira act as Hiroki.

"Give me some time, I will see how to lure him out of his group alone. So we can just druged him with "Miracle drug"." Akira say as himself.

Both of them say good bye for today. Akira give him his backpack full with his "Akira's clothes" since he need them no more. Said Shota can thrown it or just keep it, it's up to Shota. Then he come near Shota's ear and whisper in playful Hiroki style. "Got my breifs inside, if you interest", Shota face turn red with shy.

Before saying goodbye, Shota handed Akira his old cellphone number. "Just in case you want to talk privately.

"Oh yes, i forgot you never have Hiroki's number."

Akira laughed softly. "And please remember to avoid Ryuji's company for some days before we strike."

Shota promised solemnly, a determined glint lighting up his eyes. "Don't worry, I got this covered."

Without another word, Akira turned away and New Hiroki start his jogging toward his new home. While Shota also head back to home.

His heart racing with excitement and nervousness. Thinking about how they going to turn Ryuji into a Bodysuit soon.

Serveral day later, During this time in school. Shota feel a bit alone, His best friend not join Ryuji's group as Hiroki. He can saw them talk, joy, laugh also bully others as everyday. But seem Akira as Hiroki, help to lure Ryuji form bully Shota in various ways, naturally. So even feel alone, but it's first week in Shota's life that can stay in peace without get bully form Ryouji. In that week, teacher ask Shota as closest friend, that he know where is Akira. Since he absent for many days. Teacher also contact his family but it's seem Akira is live alone. So no one know where is he now. Act as worried, he lie to teacher that last time he meet Akira is last weekend. He can't resist to look at Hiroki that sit with another friend, pretent to talking while listening these conversation. Teacher show that he worry that something may happen to Akira but decide to wait longer before do anything.

In the weekend, finally Akira call him. Hiroki's number show on Shota's phone.

Shota hesitated for a moment before answering it."Hey, It's me." Hiroki's voice sounded distant, muffled almost.

"Hey," came Shota's reply, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine, Shota i think, i have a plan for you."

Akira explain excitedly, Shota feel relieved. After many days, they can moving forward with their goal.

"As You know normally Ryuji always stay with his gang. Until he back home, which out of our reach. but tomorrow is special. It's my birthday! ah umm. acutally Hiroki's birthday. It's like a ritual. Every year me.. um i mean Hiroki. Will go hang out together, only Ryuji and me. -Alone-, So no gang, no guard, only me and Ryuji. I always one who suggest where to, so this year, I guess we need a bit special place for me and my best friend Ryuji to hang out.

Akira thought with a devilish grin.

"Where is fit our plan?" Akira asked.

Shota felt his heart race with excitement.

This could be their chance. "Okay. What do you suggest?"

Akira paused for a few moments, contemplating carefully. Finally, he spoke again. "Well, considering how isolated the area is and how rarely people visit, it would definitely offer enough privacy."

Curious, Shota inquired, "Where is this place located?"

"In the woods behind the abandoned factory near the river bank."

Shota tried to recall any such spot nearby.

"That sounds perfect...but aren't there rumors about the abandoned factory?"

Akira dismissively waved off Shota's concern. "There are always stories circulating about creepy places, especially in urban legends. Don't let superstitions stop you from pursuing your objective. Besides, everyone believes those tales anyway."

Pondering Akira's advice, Shota decided to trust his instincts. "Alright, then.

We should prepare well tonight. Gather all necessary items including the 'miracle drug'," Akira advised firmly. "Remember, timing is crucial; we must ensure Ryuji arrives late enough so that we won't miss the window of opportunity."

"At first i think i will take "Miracle drug" form you and mix in his alcohol's glass to let's him drink. While he and me alone there. But i'm not sure is it still effective by mixing alcohol. So my plan is, You follow us and hiding in a brush near by. I will keep feed Ryuji with alcohol, to drunk him. Dont' worry, he always drunk but i will make sure he will not awake when you appear."

Akira reassured Shota, adding a sinister tone to his voice. "Once we have him immobilized, administer the 'miracle drug'. And Kaboom! at last! New Ryuji will born form ash of Trash one." Akira add with Hiroki's play tone.

"Perfect, Hiroki. See you tomorrow night." Shota confirmed enthusiastically.

They follow a bit with some detail, after say goodbye, Akira cut the line. Shota close his phone.

Shota couldn't sleep despite being exhausted; his anticipation of the coming night proved too exhilarating. He lay awake staring at the ceiling, wondering whether this ambitious endeavor would actually succeed. He hoped fervently that his calculations were accurate and precise, because failure meant losing the key to fulfilling his ultimate dream – vengeance against Ryuji.

#identity theft #steal clothes #stolen identity #clothes stolen #gay #male body suit #male bodysuit

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ffion451 · 2 years

Text

Rebel with a Cause | A JJK, KTH oneshot

Summary: Sweet, shy Jungkook has been pining over a girl for months - is he too nervous to make his move or does he realise that her links with his gang’s rivals would make any move a suicide mission?

Characters/pairings: Jungkook x f!reader, Taehyung x f!reader

Genre(s): Dystopian au, SMUT with a teeny smidging of angst

Warnings: SMUT (protected and unprotected penetrative sex, rough sex) unhealthy relationship dynamics, power imbalance and suggestions of coercion (NOT dub-con).

Note: Please see the note at the end when you’ve read!

Word count: 11.8K

Beta credit(s): 🌙 @moonleeai and 🍒 @cherrysoulth - two excellent and wonderful people who confirmed that this mostly makes sense!

When exactly did your world end? Unlike some Hollywood blockbuster, there was no defining event, instead a slew of pandemics, followed by economic and environmental collapse saw your world just decline into the nightmare-scape that it now is. Nobody really remembers the glory days of this vast metropolis anymore, its memory is erased by the effacing misery of its now ghettoised state, shut off from the rest of the country. This city is by no means unique, every other city is the same, they all hide behind high walls, all fending for themselves, mistrustful of outsiders; every passing year breeds further distrust of the world beyond the city walls, the idea of an outsider now synonymous with threat and danger.

What was the tipping point from lawfulness to lawlessness? Again, it’s nearly impossible to pinpoint, but it could be when local government and the police simply capitulated and gave in to the reigning chaos. Power never disappears though, it simply transfers, and the vacuum was quickly filled by every power-hungry bastard in the city. The struggle for power was brutal and short, by the time the rival gangs had fought it out, only two remained, each equal in influence and power, though very different in their methods.

On one side there was Park Joonggil, a CEO of vast influence and wealth, he had never been averse to breaking the law as and when it suited him before the collapse and so flourished now. Joonggil, a man of exceptional intelligence, had all the suave adaptability of a true psychopath; when society collapsed it he simply took it as another business opportunity and saw the change in his operations as ‘diversification’. Joonggil’s gang, though he’d only ever refer to it as his ‘organisation’, ‘corporation’ or ‘company’, are all shaped in his image. He expects his associates (read underlings) to present as professionally as he does, the result is a team of exceptionally suave and capable people. Though the head of a vast empire, his inner circle is small, compromising his most trusted colleagues: Kim Namjoon, his second in command, a man of ruthless intelligence with a keen mind; Park Jimin, a man of breathtaking duality who can negotiate through any situation with an unending reservoir of charm; finally, Kim Taehyung, a man who can smell an opportunity from a mile away and acts without hesitation.

The other half of this power sharing alliance already had roots in the underworld of the city before the fall. Their leader, Jang Dongsoo, better known as ‘Big Boss’, had been a gang leader all his life, his role inherited from his brutal father and the son is very much in that image. Dongsoo’s gang (unlike Joonggil he doesn’t shy away from the term) are undoubtedly more at home with the seedy underbelly of the city and are not afraid to get their hands dirty. Dongsoo views his gang as his foot soldiers and, whilst he can be terrifyingly violent, he is also paternal, watching over them with a sort of stern fatherly affection. Just like Joonggil, he too has a small band of lieutenants: firstly there is Kim Seokjin, a man who’s handsome face masks the shrewd, calculating mind behind it, not to mention the explosive rage he’s capable of; Min Yoongi is possessed of the same incisive mind, but he is far more controlled, he’s often the ‘ideas’ man, with a sharp focus that can rival any of the schemes devised by the Park Corp; finally, in the last few months Dongsoo has taken a shine to a foot soldier of seemingly immense talent who seems to be able to succeed at any task he’s given. This kid, who he’s come to refer to as his ‘golden maknae’, has made a real impression on him and he’s begun to groom him for success: his name? Jeon Jungkook.

No matter their branding, whether they’re in the sharply tailored suits of the Park Corp or the typical leather jacket, ripped jeans look of the Jang gang, the two groups are essentially the same: both are headed by men with a insatiable desire for power and wealth, both with an innate belief in their own superiority and their entitlement to devotion and respect. Both organisations maintain a rigid hierarchy that is almost exclusively male and neither are shy about trading in, or making use of, prostitution, drugs or any other racket that brings them wealth. They have little value or time for anyone outside of their circles, doing all of their business in two large buildings, that serve as housing and offices for the elites.

Across the sprawl of the city, business, districts and associations are divided between the two fairly evenly; there are very few places in the city that are truly neutral. One of these rare places is Hobi’s bar, it’s neutrality maintained by both groups; they use the bar as their meeting place when they need to negotiate or discuss anything and the arrangement works. Hobi, sunshine in human form, presents no ground for opportunity for either Park or Jang and so they see no value in trying to recruit him, instead they rely on his neutrality and the existence of his bar as a safe zone. Hobi might be all sweetness and light but he has a very clear morality that he absolutely will not compromise, no weaponry or drugs are allowed or tolerated on his premises, neither is harassment of his patrons, especially the women, these are rules that all uphold and respect.

It’s that final rule that his always mattered to you; it’s the reason you’ve always felt safe at Hobi’s and it’s why, over the years, you’ve spent so much time there, well, that and the fact that he is one of your dearest friends. Of course, spending so much time at a bar frequented by the most dangerous men in the city was bound to bring trouble sooner or later.

Sooner, as it turned out.

“Here again, I see,” smiles Hobi, gently waving the bottle in his hand.

Jungkook nods at the offer and slides his glass down the bar towards Hobi who catches the glass deftly, filling it before bringing it to the downcast man slumped at the bar.

“Are you ok, kid?” he pries carefully. He’s always cautious with Jang’s men, so many are volatile and though this kid has been haunting the bar for months now without a hint of trouble, he’s still on guard.

“I’m not a kid,” Jungkook says in little more than a whisper. “And I’m fine.”

Hobi smiles at that, deciding to give it one last shot, “Sorry, mate,” he cajoles, “I’m a neutral here, so you wanna talk about it? Is it woman trouble?” he teases.

Jungkook raises his head to look at him then, the big doe eyes swimming with emotion that is clearly aching to be released. When he speaks, his voice is surprisingly gentle, “Man, you have no idea -” he begins, before spilling the entire contents of his heart out.

Over the next hour Hobi learns a lot of things about Jungkook. Firstly, the boy really is very sweet and only a few years younger than Hobi. Secondly, he’s really quite handsome, even more so when he smiles, giving away a flash of a cute bunny grin. Thirdly, he learns that Jungkook is head-over-heels, off-the-chain, fully-obsessed with a woman that he’s been watching in this bar for months and he’s never even spoken to her. If he wasn’t so earnest, so truly and completely besotted, Hobi would be worried. Yet, there’s almost a naive purity to Jungkook, despite his gang affiliation, that suggests he’s not some weird creep or stalker, just a young man with a crush so dehabilitating that it paralyses him and makes it impossible for him to simply talk to this woman who is the obvious focus of all his desire and affection.

“She’s just so perfect, hyung,” whines Jungkook cutely, clearly comfortable now with Hobi and asking him for the kind of support and advice he’d never dare approach Jin or Yoongi for, “she’s so sweet and kind to everybody around her and I just want to talk to her, I just want her to notice me.”

Hobi presses a little harder, asking if it’s only nerves that prevent him, because he senses Jungkook is holding something back.

Now at ease with Hobi, and his tongue loosened by alcohol, Jungkook loses some more of his inhibitions and confides further, “I think she has some kind of arrangement with one of Park’s men,” he whispers and immediately sees that Hobi is going to point out that that is more than a red flag, rather it’s a carnival of flags, all with ‘leave this alone’ emblazoned on them, but Jungkook continues on, “I know what you’re going to say, but I’ve been watching her for ages and I think she’s being, like, forced into it. She doesn’t look happy at all.”

Hobi sighs, “Your a nice guy, Jungkook, but whatever the deal is, if involves one of Park’s men, for your sake and hers you should leave well alone.”

Jungkook knows the kind older man is right. The problem is, the second Jungkook sees you, he just doesn’t care.

———————————————————-

Later than night, Jungkook is so drunk that it is a mystery of physics that he is still somehow mostly upright at the bar, teetering precariously on his barstool. You’ve only just arrived, you make a habit of being around to help Hobi lock up. It’s for your protection rather than his; you help him lock up and then you walk to your apartment block together as he lives a couple of floors beneath you.

You smile brightly at Hobi and begin to stack stools and chairs on tables ready for the cleaning lady in the morning. It’s only then, as you clatter the stools around him, that Jungkook realises he’s the only one left at the bar, and he staggers to his feet in embarrassment. Th laws of physics can only be held at bay for so long though, and gravity catches up with Jungkook as he loses his footing.

He doesn’t crash to the floor though and it takes his inebriated mind several seconds to realise it’s because you’ve slotted yourself under his arm and are steadying him, moving him away from the bar stools. He hears your voice, though it echoes distantly in his drunken mind, “Hobi, can you get this kid some water?”

“’m not a kid -” is all he is able to mumble before he passes out.

The next morning Jungkook wakes, confused as to where he is. He sits up, realising his leather jacket has been taken off him and is neatly folded on the table beside him, it sits next to a litre bottle of water in an ice bucket and, practically if not a little grossly, an empty ice bucket in case the worst happened (luckily, it hadn’t). Beside these things are his keys, switchblade, phone and chapstick, all in a neat little row. He groans and stretches, shrugging off the blanket that’s been placed over him.

After several minutes where he’s checked his phone, rubbed his eyes and gulped down half the water, he hears the door to the bar unlock and open. He tenses immediately and almost reaches for knife when he pauses at the sight of your smiling face, keys in one hand, two coffees in a carry case in the other and two paper bags of takeout balanced on your arm as you try to navigate through the doorway.

Jungkook is on his feet immediately and rushes over to help you and it doesn’t take you two long to awkwardly negotiate your burden and to come to sit beside each other at one of the booths near the couch he’d slept on, the door safely locked behind you.

You’re the first one to speak, “Good morning,” you smile, “I figured you’d be hungover and hungry and a little confused,” you say gently.

He smiles awkwardly in return, “You did this for me?” he asks gratefully as you nod, “I passed out here last night, didn’t I?” he cringes.

You smile and confirm his worst suspicions, “Don’t worry about it though, as totally off-your-face drunks go, Jungkook, you’re a very sweet and pliable one.”

His eyes narrow slightly in suspicion, “How do you know my name?”

You wince then in discomfort, “You don’t remember telling me?”

Jungkook groans and puts his head in his hands. If he had a choice, he’d rather be shot than have to look up at you again. Moments from last night bubble up from the murky depths of his subconscious: he remembers waking up as you manoeuvred him with Hobi on to the couch; he remembers you telling him to empty his pockets so he wouldn’t crush anything or hurt himself in his sleep; he remembers telling you that you were lovely as you tucked him in; he remembers the feel of your fingers gently brushing the hair from his face as he started to drift off, catching your voice as you wished him sweet dreams.

He wishes that was all he could remember.

Sadly, in the moments between, he also spoke to Hobi. As he recalls, at the time he thought he was whispering, but now, in all the horrifying clarity of the day and soberness, he realises it was less of a whisper and more a sort of hoarse shout. He had told Hobi, several times, that you were ‘her’, the girl he had been pining for and fantasising about. He can’t remember the precise words, but given your evident mortification, he had made his feelings more than clear.

He groans for long minutes before you try to lure him from his hunched ball of shame, “Jungkook, come on man, your breakfast is getting cold, eat with me!”

Being rude is worse than being ashamed for Jungkook and so he raises his head, fishing the contents out of the paper bag you’ve thrust at him and thanking you repeatedly before stuffing his face as an excuse not to speak further.

Together you drink coffee and eat in silence, it’s not altogether uncomfortable as you smile continually at him in encouragement and slowly his embarrassment starts to subside. As the meal comes to an end, and the last dregs of coffee are tipped into your mouths, he tries to find the confidence to speak again to you.

Finally, as he hears another set of key in the door and watches it begin to open he rushes words out, “Can I please see you again?”

You smile, but you seem a little confused and he seeks to elaborate, “Because…”

A voice then joins in, “…because you’re the love of his life,” supplies Hobi with a grin, reenacting one of the more dramatic declarations of the night before to a groan from Jungkook, who buries his face in his hands.

He’s surprised to feel your own hands close around his wrists as you gently pull his hands from his face and it sends a delicious thrill through him. He dares to open his eyes and you are smiling kindly at him, “Ignore Hobi,” you say softly, “I’d like that; I’d like to see you again.”

It’s then that his face breaks into the widest most-bunny like smile, “Really?” he asks with childlike excitement. He notices that you are shyly embarrassed in the face of his enthusiasm and he finds it even more endearing: he was right about you all this time, you’re just as sweet as he thought you were. Whilst Dongsoo encourages Jungkook’s wide-eyed wonder with the world around him, the others, especially Jin and Yoongi, laugh at him for it, always warning him that the world is a dark place and nobody can be trusted. As Jungkook looks at you now, and finds that you’re all he thought you were and more, he knows that they’re wrong.

You speak then, “Really. I’d like to be your friend. Though things are complicated for me,” you say awkwardly, “I’ll explain when we get to know each other better.”

Jungkook smiles, certain that whatever your situation is with the Park Corp together you’ll overcome it.

———————————————————-

Over the next couple of months, Jungkook falls harder and deeper for you. The two of you hang out regularly, seemingly dating despite the fact that he seems to have made no progress beyond holding your hand on a few occasions: though he’s horny as hell and deeply frustrated, he accepts the situation as it is. He’s so head-over-heels, and it’s still such early days for the two of you, that he won’t push his luck and risk losing the relationship he’s building with you.

One night, having drinks together at Hobi’s bar, Jungkook can’t help but notice that a pair of dark, dangerous-looking eyes glare through from the group of Park Corp men at the corner of the bar and watch your every movement. Jungkook doesn’t say anything but he can see you’re aware of it and that you seem to quail under the attention. Eventually, he can no longer handle your discomfort and asks you about what’s going on.

It’s then that you smile sadly and explain your situation to him. You’d grown-up next door to, and attended the same school as, Kim Taehyung. You’d never really been close friends but you’d always been part of each others’ lives. As you grew up and felt the danger of your position in the world with no family other than sick grandparents left by your early twenties, Taehyung’s power and influence was a necessary safety net for you and he took you under his wing; you were essentially marked as Taehyung’s property. For a long time that hadn’t really meant anything, just that you had protection and could continue to live mostly free from harassment in the city, everything has a price though. Over time, it became clear what Taehyung’s was.

You seem mortified as you explain to Jungkook the nature of your arrangement with Taehyung; you’re clear that there is no love or even real affection there, just his lust and the need to fulfil his desires. You also put at end to Jungkook’s protestations that he, and the Kang Gang, can replace that protection and accept you into their fold. You see too much danger in it, too much risk for both you and Jungkook and it’s too early in your relationship to take that risk, you’re not going to free yourself from being trapped by one gangster to turn to one you hardly know.

It’s hard for Jungkook to accept, but there is such an earnest desperation within you that he lets it go, even if he’s clear that it’s something he’ll want to discuss again. He leans over the table and strokes your cheek with the backs of his tattooed fingers in a gesture of comfort; he struggles to contain his smile as you lean into his touch and then catch his fingers in yours before bringing them to your mouth where you skim your lips across his knuckles. Your eyes meet for a moment and something undefinable passes between you, simultaneously soft and gentle whilst being sharp and hungry.

“Outside, now,” commands a deep voice, and instantly you look at Jungkook in warning. You needn’t have bothered though because Taehyung only says the words in passing as he strides past your table on his way to the back door of the bar.

“Go home, Jungkook,” you say softly as you stand, clearly embarrassed.

“I’ll see you Sunday, yeah?” he checks as he gets to his feet, pulling you into a quick fleeting hug before you turn away from him and follow Kim Taehyung’s footsteps, your head hung in shame.

Jungkook is nearly at the door out of the bar, when a gut-feeling, a twist of intuition, tells him he can’t leave you like this. Quietly, moving through darkened shadows, he makes his way slowly through the bar, careful not to draw attention, until he reaches the door you and Taehyung passed through.

He presses the door open gently and it leads onto the darkness of a narrow brick-lined passage way strewn with debris and graffiti; he holds his breath as he listens for you and it then, at the far end of the alley that he hears a rhythmic thudding and spies an old structure, like a shed, that’s little more than a frame, covered over with thick sheets of milky white, partially translucent plastic, its edges lifting in the breeze.

There’s a light within, it looks like its cast from a camping lantern, and from that dull light he can see the outline of a woman sat on some kind of surface. Looming over her, from between her legs that are spread and wrapped around him, is a man thrusting violently into her. Jungkook knows it’s you and Taehyung and though sickened, if unsurprised, he draws closer.

As he nears, he begins to hear the wet sounds of your bodies joining together, the gasped breaths, moans and grunts of effort. He doesn’t realise how close he’s drawn until the wind teases at the edge of the plastic again and parts it, it’s then that he sees Taehyung pull you to him, kissing your neck and whispering in your ear as his hips slow, his thrusts driving deep now, causing you to whimper.

His eyes flicker up, and he catches the outline of another body, realising immediately that it’s Jungkook, a smirk plays at the corner of his lips and when he speaks, it’s louder and more purposeful, “I’m close,” he groans, “you’re so good for me, always so tight.”

He begins to chase his high then, battering into you with a desperate fury and you cry out, pained, “Please, Taehyung - ”

“Fucking take it,” he growls, a hand tangling in you hair, pulling it back so he can lick a wet stripe up your throat, “remember who this cunt belongs to.”

He continues to pummel you before repeating his words, “Who does it fucking belong to?” he growls as you scream out.

“You, Taehyung, you!” Jungkook watches pure pleasure write itself over Taehyung’s face as he comes inside you exactly as you speak the words.

Moments later Taehyung is pulling out and tucking himself back in his trousers, throwing a handkerchief from his suit pocket at you.

“Clean yourself up and make sure you’re home when I come over later, yeah?” he asserts before he walks away from you towards Jungkook, who has now retreated further down the alley though, knowing he’s been made, he doesn’t attempt to flee.

When Taehyung reaches Jungkook he has a dangerous smirk on his face, “I know who you are,” he begins without preamble, “you’re Jang Dongsoo’s little wonder boy, and so you think that makes you untouchable.”

Jungkook returns the smirk with one of his own, “Doesn’t it?”

Taehyung laughs coldly then, “Let’s be clear. I don’t care if you two want be besties, plait each other’s hair and paint each other’s nails and have movie nights; I don’t love her and I don’t want her. I do own her cunt though, and I don’t share, so keep your grubby little paws off her,” he commands as he straightens his tie.

Jungkook frowns, hating the way Taehyung speaks about you, “And if I don’t?”

For a moment he doesn’t think Taehyung is going to answer as the older man walks past him and reaches the door back into the bar. Yet, when pulling the handle towards him as he steps through, Taehyung looks back at Jungkook and delivers his final warning, “I mean it - I don’t share. She’s been my friend nearly all my life, but if you touch her, I’ll kill her without fucking hesitation,” he says flatly, without any feeling, and is gone.

Jungkook feels sick with shock and only seconds later, leaves the alley and the bar behind, not wanting you to know what he’d witnessed.

When Jungkook sees you on Sunday, he realises Taehyung couldn’t have only spent the rest of the night after he fucked you in that alleyway with you, but probably the whole weekend; you’ve done your best to hide the marks across your neck and clavicles, but Taehyung has clearly spent a lot of time sucking and biting the signs of his ownership across the canvas of your skin. Jungkook also hates to see the way you’re moving carefully, your body evidently aching from whatever marathon fuck session Taehyung has subjected you to.

He changes the plans he had for the two of you, and instead settles for a picnic on the rooftop of your building, abandoning the strenuous hike he had planned to one of the few green places left within the city limits. As you gather supplies, obvious eager to get out of your place, he notices that all the windows are open wide, and his sensitive nose notes the still lingering smell of sweat and sex. From his place on the sofa, he turns his head to look around, and smells Taehyung’s cologne on the fabric, making him wince internally.

When you’re finally together on the roof, he’s able to relax, especially when you’ve had your fill of the the delicious snacks he brought and you lay with your head in his lap, looking up at him as he talks to you about his weekend and the various jobs Dongsoo has had him doing.

He looks down at you fondly as you express concern for his safety, he knows you’ve never been interested in any of the details of his gang life, never really engaging but you always listen to anything that’s about him, always taking time to express worry, or to show your admiration, or to congratulate him on an achievement. It’s now of the many reasons he believes he’s falling in love with you.

He tenderly brushes the hair from your face, “Thank you for worrying about me, honey,” he says, recently he’s adopted the pet name for you and he’s hoping you’ll let it stick.

“Don’t thank me,” you say warmly, “I should be the one saying thank you! Thank you for being my friend and for everything you do for me, including this picnic,” you ramble on, trying to get him to agree to take money from you to pay towards the treats he bought; he finds it remarkably endearing.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he says earnestly; he needs you to know that his relationship with you isn’t like yours and Taehyung’s, it’s not transactional, everything that he does for you is based on his growing love for you, not what he can get from you.

When you’ve sullenly agreed not to pay him, he smiles, “I do have one favour to ask though,” he asks before he tells you of a lavish party that Dongsoo will be throwing at his Penthouse in a few weeks, begging you to come with him. He wants you to go, to stay at the building over night, promising you that you’ll be safe, that Dongsoo would never allow harm to come to you.

It takes a long time for you to agree. You disappear downstairs for a while and when you return, you say that your grandparents, ill as they are, are prepared to lie and say you’re visiting them at the city limits, in case Taehyung checks.

“I can only stay one night though,” you insist, you never talk about Taehyung if you can help it, so it’s noticeable when you do, “he can never know; he’d kill me.”

Jungkook nods heartily in agreement, pulling your body close to his in a strangling hug, and wonders if you know how true the words you have spoken are. He swallows hard in discomfort, but satisfies his conscience with the belief that being with him makes you as happy as it does him.

————————��——————————-

“That dress is Gucci” says a quiet voice beside you.

You turn to face the man, he’s handsome, cat-like, clever-eyed; immediately you’re alert to the danger he could pose.

“Well?” he prompts.

“Well what?” you respond, careful to keep your tone flat, “you made a statement, you didn’t ask a question.”

He eyes you in cold appreciation, clearly deciding you’re worth his time, “That’s fair,” he asserts before he fixes you with a question, “here’s a question for you then: do you know who dresses exclusively in Gucci?”

You appraise him coldly, with more confidence than you feel, “Who are you?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies lazily, and watches as you piece together who he is, “answer the question please,” the polite word does nothing to hide his demand.

You smile coldly, “What’s the point in this?” you ask rhetorically, “can we just skip to the point you want to make? You evidently know about my connection with Kim Taehyung, so please just be direct.”

Yoongi smiles momentarily, “I like you,” he states, with a slight narrowing of his eyes, “do you like our maknae?”

You smile genuinely then, “I do,” you say warmly, “though maybe a little less enthusiastically than he’d want. He’s a sweet guy, he’s nice to me and he doesn’t offer me his protection just so he can call me a whore and fuck me in alleys, so yeah, I like him.”

Yoongi nods slowly, “Why is Kim Taehyung obsessed with you? I don’t mean to be offensive, you’re very attractive and obviously a good person from what Jungkook says, but Taehyung could have anyone, why does he buy you expensive dresses? Why just you?”

You shrug, “Do you think he tells me?” you say hopelessly, “I think it’s power and power only. He’s known me forever. We were once good friends. He buys me things because he thinks I provide a service for him, it’s like tipping, I suppose. I’m convenient, unthreatening and he seems to enjoy the things he does to me.”

Yoongi looks at you in pity then, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he says kindly.

You shrug and blink away the tears that rise in your eyes, “It’s worth a lot,” you nod, “I understand that you’re suspicious of me, but I don’t want to be here, I don’t want your protection and I don’t want any affiliation. I’m only here because I want to be a friend to Jungkook and he asked me.”

Yoongi nods, “I understand,” just before he takes his leave of you, he keeps his voice low, “maybe give him a chance though? Maybe it’s worth being fucked by someone less brutal for a change?”

You suck air between your teeth at the crudeness of the comment, but he’s already gone, leaving you discombobulated.

The night stretches on and you’re grateful for the time you have with Jungkook because he’s seemingly in constant demand. Earlier, Yoongi asked you why Taehyung was in to you, but right now, watching women flock around Jungkook, you have to wonder why Jungkook is.

Eventually, the party draws to a close and Jungkook appears to escort you to a guest room. As he shows you around, you thank him, “Where do you sleep?” you ask innocently.

“A couple of floors above,” he smiles, “just below Big Boss,” he explains.

You nod, “I see,” and you try to hide your nervousness.

“I could stay,” he says in a low voice that you’re unfamiliar with, his eyes are dark and his expression looks hungry.

You say nothing as he steps closer, your heart beating against your ribs like a caged bird.

He’s before you now, smiling in his cute way, but there’s a dangerous gleam in his eye, “We’re in a bubble now,” he smiles, “the outside world and its rules don’t exist. There’s no gangs, no Kim Taehyung, just you and me.”

You gulp nervously as his eyes darken and his voice deepens, “Let me love you.”

Before you can respond or even breathe, he’s moving closer, one hand tucks a stray strand of hair away from your face, the other comes to rest around the back of your neck. You take a ragged breath in, and then the flat of his palm comes to rest on your cheek before his mouth meets your mouth. His lips press against yours and you yield to him, your lips parting, he seizes the opportunity to kiss you more deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He runs the tip of his wet muscle along the edge of your teeth before he laughs throatily, betraying his desire. Soon his mouth is back on yours and you can feel the lust exude from him as his kisses become more hungry, more uncontrolled, more fierce.

The more he kisses you the more his grip on you changes, though the hand holding your head in place remains constant, the hand of your face travels across your shoulders and down your back until it reaches your ass, its purpose there seems twofold: firstly, to grope and knead at the flesh and secondly, to hold you in place as his grinds and rubs against you, his dick hardening as he begins to hump against you like a dog in heat, breaking his kisses now so he can pant desperately.

“The bed,” he groans into your mouth, “please can we move to the bed?”

Before you know what’s happening, you’re thrown to the bed and Jungkook is standing at the foot of it, staring down at you like you’re the last banana milk in the convenience store. He falls to his knees and undoes the fiddly, small buckles on your heels, pulling them off before kissing up your bare legs in speedy, sloppy kisses. Halfway up your thigh he meets the hem of your dress and pushes it up so it gathers at your hips, kissing all along your upper thigh where he pauses and sucks in a breath between his teeth.

Jungkook had been pleased that you arrived at the party in your revealing dress with unmarked skin, but now he sees that Taehyung was simply concealing his marks of ownership; the soft flesh of your inner thighs are painted a deep, blackish purple where Taehyung has evidently bruised every inch of you that his mouth can reach around your core. Hating Taehyung, but undeterred, Jungkook presses his lips to the soft silk of your underwear kissing through the flimsy fabric to the sensitive flesh beneath causing you to cry out, drawing another throaty laugh from him.

“Take your dress off, honey,” he commands, but his tone is clearly desperate.

You flush then, “I can’t,” you whisper, “I don’t want you to see me.”

Jungkook smiles kindly, “I want you so fucking bad,” he groans, “trust me, you’re fucking beautiful and I want to see every inch of you.”

It’s then that he notices that though you’re shy, there’s evidently more to it and he asks perceptively, “What has he done?”

You look mortified and can’t make eye contact with Jungkook as you explain that Taehyung has decided that as you’re so fond of Jungkook you must be into tattoos and so you should get one. He has been using a temporary ink over the last few weeks to test various designs. As Jungkook slowly peels your dress from you, half in dread and half in arousal as your soft flesh is revealed to him, he begins to see what you mean: all along your pelvis, under your belly button and, as he hooks a finger into your underwear, all the way down to the folds of your cunt is written “Taehyung’s” in various different shapes, sizes and styles and varying degrees of being faded out. Jungkook has done many questionable and immoral things in the service of Dongsoo, but he has never yet killed anyone and until now he’s really never wanted to. Nonetheless, if someone put a gun in his hand at this moment, he’d blow Taehyung’s brains out.

You’re so embarrassed at Jungkook witnessing your humiliation that it takes some time of him lying beside you on the bed, him still fully dressed, you only in your underwear, for you to relax. For a length of time he strokes your hair and talks softly to you of everything and nothing until you unwind in his arms and your stiff limbs soften. It’s then that his mouth finds yours again and soon you’re on your back while Jungkook lies over you, his tongue chasing yours, his hard cock pressing into you from the restraining fabric of his suit trousers.

Soon, Jungkook is fighting his way out of his clothes as he kisses you tenderly until you’re both in your underwear, kissing lazily as his rock-hard bulge presses into your dampening underwear. It’s when he finally frees your breasts from your bra that he loses control, instantly grasping at the flesh with his tattooed hands, sucking a nipple into his mouth as he teases it with his teeth before turning his attention to the other.

When he hears you whimper out, he eases the drag of his teeth on the sensitive nub. The tension deep in his gut, his heavy balls and throbbing cock are all telling him he needs to rail you senseless but his mind is filled with Taehyung brutally ramming into you in that alley way; that’s not what Jungkook wants. He wants your first time together to be a time where he shows you how much he loves you and so he slows everything down. He gently eases your underwear down your legs and, after scrabbling around in his discarded trousers for his wallet, he eases a condom down his length, finally shedding his underwear.

He rejoins you on the bed then and continues kissing you as he lays between your legs. He feels you shudder pleasurably each time his cock twitches against your thigh and he smiles as his lips cushion yours until, finally, you gasp into his mouth as the head of his cock presses against your hole. He takes your hands in his then, interlacing your fingers with his and pinning them beside your head as he kisses you deeply, pushing his cock into your tightness, surprised by how tight and resistant you are despite your wetness. When he finally bottoms out and breaks away from you so he can pant, he starts to understand why Taehyung exclusively cleaves to you an no other woman.

Jungkook smiles down at you, noticing the tears leaking from your eyes, “Can I move?” he asks and you nod fervently, clearly in discomfort.

He establishes a languid space then, fucking you deep and slowly, so that you feel every ridge and vein of his cock and he pushes into you and then drags out of your tight walls, his pelvis grinding against your clit, his hips rocking into you to bring you near the edge.

After what feels like hours of exquisite joy and torture, Jungkook’s impressive stamina starts to wain and his ability to hold back even more so. His hand comes between you then as he massages your clit and his hips begin to snap into you that bit faster, that bit more fiercely, as he feels his impending high grow ever closer.

You come without warning, faster than he expected and he grins at you, not once breaking eye contact as you give him a fucked out, dazed and glassy smile; his thrusts falter then and soon he collapses on you as he spills into the condom with a yell of satisfaction, your hands gripping his muscular back, clinging to him in your afterglow.

“I love you,” he whispers into your shoulder and feels your body tense and he pulls back to look at your nervous face, “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to say it back,” he says generously, though he’s desperate for you to, he really doesn’t expect you to.

“I really care about you, Jungkook,” you say honestly, “Any normal woman would love you, I guess I’m just a bit broken. It will take me longer.”

Jungkook reassures you that you’re not broken and that he can wait as he shepherds you to the en-suite where you clean each other up before you climb back into bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

A knock at the door wakes you hours later, but not Jungkook, who’s totally at peace in the safety of his building. With difficulty you ease yourself from under Jungkook and you clothe yourself quickly in the sweats you brought with you before you answer the door. The glowering figure of Dongsoo fills the doorway as he eclipses the dimly lit corridor.

“I think we should talk,” he mutters, taking in the sprawled naked body of Jungkook in the room behind you, the smallest scrap of blanket covering his ass as he lays flat out on his stomach.

———————————————————-

“It’s agreed then,” Dongsoo says as he walks you back to your room, a gentle smile on his face and you nod amenably before you re-enter your room and shut the door softly behind you, sighing in gentle relief.

Dongsoo had taken you to his office and told you that he would claim no affiliation that you didn’t want but that he’d support your ‘friendship’ with Jungkook and that you’d always be welcome at Jang Tower. As a shrewd man he obviously added that that was entirely dependent on how Joonggil behaved; Dongsoo admitting readily that if the Park Corp found the arrangement not to their taste that he would have to rethink his decision. You admire his honesty, you know he seems to like you and that he cares deeply for Jungkook, but he won’t compromise the safety of his men, or his empire, for one woman he barely knows.

Taking a deep breath, and avoiding waking Jungkook, you climb back into bed.

———————————————————-

A month later and Jungkook is concerned: after seeing you regularly in the couple of weeks following Dongsoo’s party where you’d been to the building regularly and you guys had spent much more time together, over a week has passed since he last saw you and he feels you’re avoiding him.

His concern has brought him here, to Hobi’s, and he’s disappointed not to find you here. However, he does spy a group of Park men and an empty chair with a distinctive Gucci jacket hanging off the back of it. Following his intuition he sneaks around the edge of the club and out the exit leading to the alleyway where he hears hissed voices, though he knows he needs to get closer to hear what’s being said, it’s clearly argument between a man and a woman.

Closer now and he hears your voice; you sound exhausted and desperate, “Please Taehyung,” you beg, “please don’t make me do it any more. It makes me feel sick, like some cheap whore.”

Taehyung’s voice is cold, “You’re saying that like there’s a choice,” he says flatly and Jungkook strains to hear clearly, leaning forward; his foot grazes a bottle then, and it makes a dull ringing sound as it topples over. The silence that follows is deafening and his whole body tenses as the moment seems to stretch out infinitely.

Finally, Taehyung speaks again, “You’re a friend,” he says to you, “and you’re not a cheap whore, but you are my whore for as long as I want you so just learn to shut your fucking mouth and spread your fucking legs when you’re told or I’ll be less generous.”

The tremble in your voice allows Jungkook to imagine the tears that must now be flowing freely down your face, “Less generous than this?” you scoff, though your attempt at attitude is undermined by your clear, desperate hopelessness.

When Taehyung speaks, it’s clear he’s moving away from you and towards Jungkook who flees up the alley in response, only managing to catch scraps of Taehyung’s parting shot, overhearing a mention of those sweet, unwell grandparents you’d mentioned before.

Later, when Taehyung has swept from the bar, taking the Park Corp men with him, you emerge through the doorway and are surprised to see Jungkook at a nearby table waiting for you. He feigns surprise to see you coming through the exit door and smiles placidly as you fudge some harebrained and unbelievable reason why you’d be out there.

It’s only later in the week, back at your apartment, that the truth finally comes out, when it does, it feels like Jungkook’s world has ended.

———————————————————-

“I don’t know how Taehyung knows what’s happened between us, but he does,” you explain to Jungkook. You’re sat opposite him on your sofa, legs crossed and your hands in his, “he’s been clear. If anything more happens between us he’ll kill my grandparents,” you say.

You don’t cry, you simply sit, numb with shock and pain. Jungkook tries everything to reason with you, saying he’s sure Dongsoo will allow your grandparents to come live in Jang Tower too and you can all be together and safe. His heart shatters when you then reveal your conversation with Dongsoo and the limitations of the protection he’d afford you.

Jungkook grips your hands desperately, “This can’t be it,” he says, his voice unnaturally high and strained, “this isn’t how it ends for us!” he asserts desperately.

He’s prevented from losing control by the sound of a key scraping the lock, “That’s him,” you say, and flinch from the look of betrayal from Jungkook, “I have to do what he says, Jungkook,” you say sadly, “for my family.”

Neat as a pin in his tailored suit, Taehyung strides into the apartment looking at Jungkook in distaste, “Time’s up, kid,” he says flatly before he turns to you, “Get your shit together,” he hisses as you wipe at your eyes.

“Fuck you,” spits Jungkook, but Taehyung doesn’t rise to it and simply offers him a bored look.

“It’s time to go, wonder kid,” he says drily, before again turning to you, “The CEO wants to see you, so get your stuff, you’re coming to the Park Plaza with me.”

You release your hands from Jungkook’s, unable to look him in the eye, only whispering “I’m so, so sorry,” before you disappear into your bedroom and shut the door.

Jungkook sits in shock, staring vacantly at the closed door you’ve disappeared behind and the wall beside it. Taehyung follows his line of sight and offers a small chuckle that snaps Jungkook out of his reverie.

“Shit, isn’t it?” Taehyung says with a sneer, looking at a stylised abstract painting on the wall beside you bedroom door, “Fuck knows where she got it, or why she likes it. Turns out you can’t fuck taste into someone. Who knew?” Taehyung glances back at Jungkook, looking him up and down and the implication of what he’s saying is obvious.

Jungkook could rip Taehyung’s throat out. He’s so angry that he bounds up and vaults over the sofa, grabbing Taehyung by the lapels and shoving him forcefully across the room until they collide with the wall beside the apartment door.

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Jungkook yells, spit flying in Taehyung’s impassive face, pinning him, his fists balled into the expensive fabric of the suit, “I won’t let you do this -”

It’s then that the door opens again and the tall, imposing figure of Joonggil steps in, staring with haughty distaste at Jungkook, “You have no choice,” he says smoothly, his voice detached as though he’s dealing with a troublesome child, “I’ve spoken with Dongsoo, you are to leave and you are not to contact her again.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to retort but Joonggil simply raises an eyebrow and steps back, allowing Jin and Yoongi to enter. The appearance of his gang brothers surprises Jungkook so much that he releases Taehyung in shock. By the time he realises what’s happening, Jin and Yoongi have his arms pinned to his side and they’re dragging him from the apartment and into the corridor away from you.

Joonggil steps back into the corridor, watching Jungkook depart and then and delivers the parting shot, “Come near her again and I will kill you, her and everyone either of you have ever loved,” he doesn’t even glance back at Jungkook who’s cursing desperately over his shoulder as he’s dragged away. Joonggil simply steps back into your apartment and closes the door behind him.

Jungkook rages on through his tears as his brothers wrestle him from the building. He lets the rage overtake him to ward off the incoming tidal wave of pain and grief: no matter how romantic Jungkook is, he knows, deep in the recesses of his heart, even as it now breaks, that you’re lost to him forever.

———————————————————-

“You can come out now,” Joonggil calls as he shuts the apartment door behind him.

You emerge from your bedroom quietly and he gestures for you to approach with a small jerk of his head.

Stood before him, you look at him nervously as he evaluates you with an inscrutable expression, “You’ve done well,” he says gently, “I know it isn’t what you want, but I think it’s time to come and live in Park Plaza. At least you and Taehyung can be together properly there, even if you forfeit your independence.”

You bow deeply and thank him for his generosity, agreeing to everything he has said, careful to be deferential and respectful.

“Taehyung is lucky to have you,” he says without feeling, “and I am grateful for everything you have done. You have my gratitude,” he smiles briefly, sweeping away from you, “I’ll leave you two alone, I’m sure you need some time.”

He offers a gentle smirk to Taehyung, who has now crossed the room and is straightening the painting he’d earlier been insulting, before he leaves the room.

Now alone, you turn back to Taehyung, imitating his voice, “Shit isn’t it?” you mock, repeating his words from earlier.

Taehyung laughs, running a figure over one of the abstract faces in the painting, tracing the line of red paint that connects the nose to the mouth, “I can say that if I want to.”

“I love that painting,” you frown as he turns from the work and crosses the room towards you.

You give into him as he wraps his arms about you, “That’s why I painted it for you, my love,” he says warmly, kissing the top of your head, before changing the subject “I know you don’t want to come to the Plaza baby, but I think it’s time that we’re finally together properly.”

You pull back slightly and look up at the man you’ve loved your entire life, “All I want is to be with you, Tae, always,” you sigh. He catches your soft breath in his mouth and swallows it down with his, before his lips find yours for the millionth time. He kisses you with all the tenderness of the very first time he kissed you clumsily in his kitchen when you were both only six years old.

“Is that finally a yes?” he asks, a keening enthusiasm underlying his gentle teasing tone.

“Are you asking me to marry you again?” you smile, your stomach fluttering in excitement.

“Yes,” he says, his voice now clearly tense, his body thrumming with energy.

You nod repeatedly, unable to speak, tears flowing freely down your face as he yells in pure joy, his mouth crashing against yours as he walks you both backwards into your bedroom as you both begin to giggle giddily.

“Taehyung, be sensible,” Joonggil warns, as his most devoted colleague paces back and forth rapidly, hands clenched in fists, full of rage.

Taehyung is the angriest he’s ever been. He loves and respects his boss, but this? No. Never. Taehyung will not agree to his girlfriend, the one true love of his life, being used as bait to lure in some pathetic love-struck kid so that the Park Corp can get ahead of the Jang Gang in a trade agreement with a gang in Ilsan.

“It was a fucking joke,” Taehyung hisses, “what the fuck even is this?” he almost shouts in exasperation, looking at Namjoon in betrayal. He’d text Namjoon an hour ago, relaying the story that you’d told of him of your evening and the sweet and very drunk young guy in the bar who’d declared his undying love for you and all that Hobi had told you as you walked home. Namjoon had received the message while having a whisky with Joonggil, who’d demanded that Taehyung leave your apartment and come immediately to the Park Plaza: Joonggil had also insisted that you come along, and that’s where you find yourself now, perched uncomfortably on the end of a large, leather couch as the men around you debate.

You’ve been around these gangs for so many years now that you can read escalating danger rapidly and easily. You know Joonggil is fond of Taehyung, but he’s also something of a psychopath and you can tell his patience is wearing thin with Taehyung’s anger and refusal to do as he’s told.

You and Jimin exchange a silent but meaningful look and you realise your instincts are right; Joonggil’s patience with Taehyung hangs by a thread.

“I’ll do it,” you say firmly, “but on my terms.”

Joonggil fixes you with a cold stare as Namjoon and Taehyung look at you, all agog, “Good,” he nods, “we shall discuss terms.”

That final statement makes your blood run cold as you realise that you were foolish ever to think you had any say or control of the situation you’re in.

———————————————————-

You don’t remember first meeting Taehyung. Neighbours from your infancy, he’d always been a presence in your life, the two of you inseparable from your youngest years. You first kiss had been from a shy, 6 year old Taehyung when you gave him your last strawberry. Later, when your teenage years found you, he’d been your first real kiss.

As you grew up and the danger of the world became more apparent, you two kept your friendship secret. Taehyung knew he was destined to join his family in working for Park Joonggil, but he’d be damned if he let you get caught up in that. Nonetheless, one sticky summer found you two exploring each other’s bodies for the first time as you lost your virginity to each other in an abandoned building, one of the many clandestine places you two would meet up. You would hang out, talk, sit together, kiss and, as your friendship matured into deep love and commitment, the place where you’d fuck like rabbits, insatiable in your desire for each other.

Now, both adults, you know that Taehyung is the only man you will ever love.

———————————————————-

“Babe, I admire your loyalty, I really fucking do, and trust me, I feel sick at the thought of him anywhere near you,” Taehyung wheedles, “but you’ve been out with this guy so many times now and you’re not getting anywhere nearer Dongsoo - you’re going to have to give him more.”

You cuddle more closely into Taehyung’s sweaty chest, “After fucking me senseless, you’re telling me you want me to let Jungkook touch me?” you ask incredulously.

“You know I don’t,” he reasons, “just hand holding, a little kiss, I don’t know - just let him believe you feel something for him.”

“I do feel something for him,” you fire back, “he’s a good guy - he’s sweet and gentle and kind and I feel like shit for doing this to him,” you sigh.

Taehyung pulls you closer, he’s not jealous that you’re fond of Jungkook. He knows you’re his, always have been, always will be.

“Baby, I love you,” he sighs, “but what choice do we have? You know Joonggil, it won’t be just us in danger if this doesn’t go as he wants.”

You shudder at his words and he nuzzles into your hair, “He’d never really hurt you, Taehyung, I don’t think, not seriously anyway, or your family,” you say, mostly believing your words.

“I don’t know about that,” he wonders aloud, “but it doesn’t matter because anything that happens to you or your family is the same as it happening to mine. I am you,” he insists.

“You are me,” you return, with a soft smile.

Together, you lie in the dark, the lights from the city splashed across the walls in neon violence and you both silently wonder how you’ll make it through this situation and the strain it places on your both.

———————————————————-

Taehyung breathes heavily as he turns on the camp light, “Will he follow us out here?” he asks, looking around the dark alley.

“I think so,” you whisper.

In Hobi’s bar, Taehyung had been seething with rage as he watched Jungkook cosy up to you, until he noticed you tapping three splayed fingers against your thigh: the SOS sign the two of you had devised and he’d rushed to his feet, doing the first thing that came to mind and insisting you meet him outside. Now, in the privacy of the secluded alley, you’ve just explained that Jungkook has figured out there’s something going on between the two of you and you spool out the tangled web you’ve woven.

The two of you stand for a moment in nervous energy before Taehyung grins naughtily at you, “Well, if he’s coming, shall we give him a show?” he suggests, blood instantly flowing to his cock.

“What are you thinking?,” you ask cautiously, though your voice is laced with excitement.

“Let’s let him think I’m using you, just like you say I am,” he grins, “I won’t hurt you, babe, but let’s let him think I am. We need him to buy this story and it might put him off trying to fuck you a while longer.”

You smile awkwardly, “It’s a good plan, but honestly I don’t think he’s that desperate to fuck me,” you demur.

Taehyung moves closer to you with a dark look in his eyes as he pulls your skirt up and your underwear down before lifting you onto a nearby surface, “I bet he fucking is,” he growls and he grips your jaw to deliver a ravenous kiss to your lips, “because I always am, no matter how many times I’m lucky enough to have you.”

With a moan that gives away all of your desire, you spread your legs and yank him closer by his belt before you begin to tug at the buckle.

A little while later, Taehyung leans into you as he slows his thrusts, kissing your neck and whispering into your ear, “He’s here, don’t sound like you’re enjoying this.”

As you pretend as though Taehyung is using you, you feel cheap and dirty. Taehyung’s cold words and feigned distaste are still hurtful even though it’s only an act and it’s not hard for you to begin to cry and play the role of his whore. When Taehyung leaves you and you’re left clutching his handkerchief, the tears roll flatly down your cheeks.

That night you open your door to an ashen-faced Taehyung, “Let’s never do that again,” he says with a trembling lip, “I’d rather he touches you than see you like that again,” he says with heartfelt pain. You collapse into each others’ arms before you spend the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend in fact, inseparably close as though somehow the bond between you can be made concrete and physical through force of will. By Monday, you’re both exhausted but certain that nothing will ever come between you.

———————————————————-

Jimin looks as sick as you feel.

“That’s what Joonggil said?” you ask, numb with shock.

Jimin nods, looking bilious, “He said that you have to fuck Jungkook at the party because it’s the only way in. Only then will you have enough access to the building to find out about the Ilsan deal so we can undercut them.”

You look at each other, both abject in your misery before you say, simultaneously, “Taehyung can’t know,”

You smile drily and humourlessly at each other, more grimacing than grinning, before Jimin continues, “He’d kill Jeon Jungkook before he let him near you. He can’t be told until it’s done.”

“I understand,” you say, “I can hardly bear the thought of it, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Taehyung.”

Jimin nods grimly, “I know.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick, “Jimin, I don’t think I can tell Taehyung.”

Jimin gives a second, grim nod, “Tell me when you’ve done the deed and gotten the information and I’ll tell Taehyung.”

You’re too sickened to smile, but you manage to thank him with a vague tightening of your mouth.

———————————————————-

After fucking Jungkook and spending weeks gathering information on the Ilsan deal from your time at the Jang Tower, Joonggil finally consents to you having some breathing time while he reviews the information you’ve gathered and decides whether you’re done or he needs you to continue.

It’s been a little over a week of absolute seclusion for you. You stayed in your apartment, scrubbing your skin raw and crying, doing everything you could to avoid both Jungkook and Taehyung. Today, under Hobi’s concerned insistence, you’ve ventured out and are drowning your sorrows at the bar when Taehyung finds you.

“Any word on whether I have to keep prostituting myself out?” you ask him bitterly and you immediately feel ashamed; none of this is Taehyung’s fault and coping with the idea of you and Jungkook has been very difficult for him. He hasn’t once made you feel bad about it, being a caring, kind and supportive boyfriend despite the fact that you, his girlfriend of over ten years, have fucked another man.

“Let’s talk outside,” he murmurs, nodding towards the door to the alleyway.

Leaning against the damp cold of the brick wall outside, you feel the strength leaving you, “I can’t do this anymore,” you sob, “I hate it so much. I don’t want to do this to us. Fuck Taehyung, I don’t want to do this to him either, he’s a good guy and this is so wrong.”

He nods, trying to contain his own boiling emotions, “I don’t want this either. But what can we do? We can’t leave, nowhere will take us. I can’t leave Park Corp, he’ll kill me and if you openly disobey him, he’ll kill you or your grandparents, or someone else, and that can’t happen. Trust me, thinking that is the only thing that’s stopping me from going crazy over all this.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one who has to fuck someone else,” you snipe.

“Trust me,” he scoffs, starting to lose his temper, “there’s nothing easy at all about thinking of you two together,” Taehyung knows you’re hurt, knows you’re suffering, and so he pushes the feelings down, deep down and away so that his anger isn’t directed at you.

“Please Taehyung,” you beg, “please don’t make me do it any more. It makes me feel sick, like some cheap whore.”

Taehyung’s voice is cold, “You’re saying that like there’s a choice,” he says flatly. It’s then that you both hear a sound and Taehyung holds a silent finger to his lips before mouthing “We have company,” at you.

Silently, you mouth back, “Jungkook?” and he nods at the likelihood of it being him.

“I’m so sorry,” Taehyung mouths before he speaks again in a loud and clear voice, “You’re a friend and you’re not a cheap whore, but you are my whore for as long as I want you so just learn to shut your fucking mouth and spread your fucking legs when you’re told or I’ll be less generous.”

Taehyung’s heart breaks at your look of betrayal, even though you know he’s playing a part, and even more so at the tremble in your voice as you weep.

“Less generous than this?” you scoff hopelessly and he reaches for your hand, squeezing your fingers briefly as he moves away from you, walking backwards up the alley, his eyes never leaving your face, beginning to threaten the safety of your only remaining family should you disobey him further: each word is a knife in both your hearts.

He’s almost at a bend now, yet before he turns away he mouths “I am you,”

You smile weakly as he pauses for your reply, and you mouth back, “You are me.”

It’s almost a year before you see Jungkook again; you’ve been careful to avoid him. Now that you live at Park Plaza you have no cause to go to Hobi’s bar, instead you two socialise near to Taehyung’s building, though never within, partly because Hobi doesn’t want to be accused of favouring a gang and partly because, within the building, you feel like Joonggil always has a beady eye on you.

It’s a surprise then, when you’re shopping for vegetables in Park territory, to hear your name called by a familiar voice.

You keep your face neutral, but soft, when you turn to face him, “Jeon Jungkook,” you reply.

He looks you up and down, taking in your relaxed unbranded daywear and it seems to please him that you’re not a Taehyung clone, “You look good,” he says, “how have you been?”

You smile awkwardly, “Oh, you know, same old,” you shrug, “What about you? You look great,” you smile. It’s no lie, Jungkook is even more muscular than when you saw him last, his tattoos now a complete sleeve with a new brow piercing too.

He nods curtly, “You live with Taehyung now,” he states. You make no reply, it’s a statement after all, and one he knows the truth of, and so you say nothing.

“I’m sorry for your situation,” he blurts out, catching your hand in his and stroking his thumb over the backs of your fingers and you’re surprised that your fingers reflexively tighten around his, holding his hand in yours.

He smiles at how you return the contact and doesn’t release your hand, the touch feeling natural between you, “I sometimes wonder if you’d have loved me as much as I loved you if we could have found a way to work out…” he trails off in thought for a moment before he shakes his head, as if to wake himself up from his thoughts, “but I guess we’d both have ended up dead.”

You can only nod in response, shifting uncomfortably.

“I hear Taehyung plans to marry you soon,” he says dispassionately, “he must treat you better nowadays?” your heart twinges at that because you can hear the hope and concern in his voice, the last traces of his lingering love for you.

You nod again, and force yourself to speak, “Things are good,” you confirm vaguely.

It’s then that a group of low-ranking Park men appear and the two of you briefly exchange goodbyes and best wishes before he turns away, his fingers slipping from yours, and you’re puzzled to find that your fingers seem to hover outstretched towards him for a moment as if to call him back.

———————————————————-

At a street corner now back in Jang territory, Jungkook pauses for a moment, leaning against a wall. Idly, he thrums his fingers across his thumb restlessly, the tattooed flesh haunted by the ghost of your touch.

Last week he’d overheard Jimin and Taehyung at one of the few luxury department stores that the city has left to offer; Taehyung was agonising over the material for his wedding suit and Jimin seemed to be in the role of advisor and emotional support. Jungkook had taken time to watch Taehyung carefully and it was evident that he was a mix of emotions, excited, nervous, tense, eager, too many to count in fact. The most prominent feeling though was written all over his face, laced into each syllable of his words, in every soft movement of his elegant fingers across the fabrics: Taehyung was clearly head-over-heels in love with you.

It caused Jungkook to wonder what had happened, his mind pulling apart every time he’d seen you together. After a long chat with Yoongi running through all his thoughts, he thinks he’s finally figured it out: Taehyung had always loved you.

The truth of it was obvious, Jungkook thought, as he pondered it. Taehyung had loved you all his life, but because of his reputation and his psychopathic boss, he’d hidden his feelings from everyone. Jungkook thinks that it must have been the threat of losing you to Jungkook that changed him, it must have made Taehyung finally reveal his feelings to you.

With that thought in mind, Jungkook decided he had to see you. He had to know how you were. Had you let Taehyung into your heart too? Now, resting his head against the sun-warmed brick behind him, Jungkook thinks you might have. Though he could feel that you still have feelings for him, as he does for you, you seemed contented, happy even, and that’s good enough for him.

Jungkook comforts himself that he isn’t like Taehyung; he doesn’t think if he can’t have you then nobody can. No, he can let you go and he hopes that you’ll be happy. With a final, bittersweet smile, Jungkook pushes the sole of his motorcycle boot off the wall and moves forward, heading home.

———————————————————-

Through gleaming floor-to-ceiling plate glass, Yoongi watches Jungkook return across the street to the building and his mind wanders back to the conversation he had with Jungkook.

The things Jungkook said have been simmering away in his mind and are now beginning to bubble and spit: he can’t help but wonder if the timing of your exit from Jungkook’s life and the collapse of the Ilsan deal that came shortly after was coincidental or something more. That deal changed the power balance in the city irrevocably; though the Jang Gang still share power with the Park Corp they have less territory and sway than they once did - Joonggil simply holds more power, land and influence now.

Jungkook’s theory made sense, Taehyung had always loved you. Fine. Yoongi gets it. But what if you’d always loved him too? What if you’d used Jungkook and betrayed him because you loved Taehyung? Yoongi feels like his theory makes equal sense, perhaps even more sense than Jungkook’s.

The boiling pot of ideas in his head now bubbles over, releasing scalding anger. Yoongi is going to do some investigating of his own, and if his suspicions prove true, then he won’t let it go: there’ll be hell to pay for you and Kim Taehyung.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Please, please, please drop me a line and let me know your thoughts! Anons are on and my inbox is always open to feedback, requests character asks, etc. Don’t be shy; sharing is caring folks 😘

UPDATE: A little drabble set a few months after the epilogue - THE KISS

A little character map for you so you can see how I visualised the characters:

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#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #bts fic #minors do not read #bangtanwritershq #btswritersclub #monfics

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