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on-leatheredwings · 10 months ago

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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. Today is within the ideal window leading up to your ovulation.

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 · 10 months ago

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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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#finished #sweblr #high votes #high yes #high reblog #60s #70s #blue swede

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gilverrwrites · 3 months ago

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A kiss for the caged bird

Tim Drake/Reader, 5K

AN: Please don't think too hard into any of the science-y crap I wrote, I was pulling it all out of my butt. Anyway, this was supposed to be a quick 500-1000 thing to clear up my writer’s block and here we are. Bon appetit my loves, I hope you enjoy ♥︎ Warnings: Dub-con (purely by the nature of sex pollen) | voyeurism | swearing | dirty talk | mean-ish Tim | minor slut-shaming ♥︎

His normally tender blue eyes are completely saturated with a dense shade of green. From the whites, to his pupils, they almost seem to be glowing. They've also been watching you like a hawk with a heated intensity that puts your hairs on edge from behind the glass of his cell since you’d entered the cave.

“It's just a shame the one person who could probably crack this in no time is the one person who can't help us right now.” Dick laments as he adjusts his bootstraps. “But I have complete faith that Oracle has got this.”

“Me too.” You agree as you stare at the projected screen, all of Barbara’s research thus far. Most of it made little sense to you but it all seemed technical enough, like she was on the right track.

“Right, so she's gonna keep working on that, Spoiler and Orphan are following the Narrows lead while Red Hood and I check out the Reservoir.” The words breeze through your head, you know you should be paying more attention but you're only half listening. Tim has taken his shirt off and is leaning against the cell door. His toned body gleaning under a layer of perspiration, as his venomous green eyes stay locked onto your frame, in all of its dragged-out-of-bed-at-2 AM-after-a-looonnnnngggggg-day-patrol glory. Seemingly noticing your distraction, Nightwing steps into your line of sight as he continues to relay the plan. “You just have to make sure he doesn't hurt himself or do anything stupid until we figure this out.”

“I know, I got it.” Dick doesn’t seem convinced, frowning as his eyes dart between you and Tim. Ignoring his doubts, you settle into the chair at the centre of the console, clicking away until you pull up the live feed from inside Tims's 6x8 prison. You can understand Dicks caution, the undeniable chemistry you and Tim shared had been evident to everyone for a long time, impeached only by your mutual reluctance to date on the job. If Bruce were here, he’d never allow for this, but Dick is doing the best he can with the resources available. Regardless, all doubts aside, you won’t allow your feelings to cause problems, not when lives hang in the balance. “Just go.”

“You’re sure?” He tries to place a reassuring arm on your shoulder but you both jump at the sudden sound of Tim’s fist needlessly hitting the wall. He’d need superstrength to break out of that thing, you're not concerned. Maybe a little more roused by the lack of restraint than you’d like to admit, but no less confident in your ability to babysit than you had been moments ago.

“Certain.” You wave off Dick when he turns back to you, lips still pursed. “Go. Who knows what that crap is doing to him, the sooner you find Ivy, the better.”

He knows it, probably better than you do.

“Buzz if you need anything.” At once you're relieved by his departure, and concerned for his safety, for everyone’s safety.

“Be safe.” You bid, watching as he straddles the Wingcycle.

“Be safe.” He echoes and without another word he's gone, leaving you alone to care for your caged Red Robin.

For a long time, you stare at the empty space Dick left behind, all too aware of Tim and the way his hot-blooded stare makes your skin burn but eventually you have to face him. Can’t monitor him without looking at him after all.

In an attempt to ease the mood, you offer him a smile. Apparently, it does nothing to reassure him or ease his tensions. He simply continues to glower at you. When that doesn’t work you play up your preceding frown, playfully pouting the way you would when you’re teasing his mid-mission stresses, but that fails too. Finally, you curve your left hand in a half heart shape, a common greeting between the two of you from rooftop to rooftop and for a moment you think it might work. He pulls the hand he has pressed to the glass back for a moment, but all he does is clench his fingers back and forth a few times before letting it fall to his side.

At a loss you spin around to the computer, tapping your fingertips on the desk as you consider Barbara’s research once more. The chances of becoming a forensic palynologist within a few hours with nothing but google and whatever research Bruce has backed up in the archives is slim, but it saves twiddling your thumbs, so you start by looking up any chemicals identified by the forensic scanner that you’re not familiar with.

It’s hard to sit still, knowing your every move is being scrutinised but by far the worst part is the silence. Tim and you are muted to each other unless you’re pressing the comms link located on the keypad by the cell door. The only sounds you can make out are the far away screeches of real-life bats located further into the cavern, and the drip, drip, dripping of the wet walls. It’s downright eerie when you’re practically alone, so when Oracle buzzes in about an hour later you jump to answer it, eager to hear another human, and anxious to find out if she has any updates.

“How’s he holding up?” She asks, and you’re glad she can’t see your worried expression. Tim hasn’t moved since Dick left. Except for when you’d crossed the bullpen to look for a fresh pen after the one you’d been using ran out of ink. You exclude that last part from your update, however.

“Okay, just tell him to hang tight, I'm getting closer.” You can tell she’s trying to sound more hopeful than she actually is, and your suspicions are confirmed when she begins to ramble about her findings. She often uses the team as a sounding board when she’s trying to wrap her head around something. “The pollen he inhaled is decreasing his plasma levels and increasing his testosterone.”

“If he’d touched the plant like she’d wanted him too it would re-level those hormones, presumably she was relying on him needing that to keep him under her control.”

“Right.” You’ll pat yourself on the back for impressing her at a more appropriate time. “And if that were it, we could just pump a bunch of oxytocins into him and voilà! But something else is messing with his nociceptors. Not to mention this stuff is packed with things I’ve never even heard of. Have you heard of horny goat weed?”

“Yeah, epi-me-di-um.” You sound the word out from your notes. “Only since tonight.”

“Where do people get these names from?” Babs groans, you can hear her tapping away at her keyboard. “I’m close though, I know it.”

“I believe in you.” She ‘awhs’ at your encouragement.

“Until I’ve got this, there is one thing he can try.” She trails off at the end. Her hesitation strikes you as odd. Surely whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. “If he’s really suffering… ejaculating might help ease any pain if only temporarily. Masturbatory only, obviously, this stuff can and will spread like hot gossip at one of Bruce’s galas.”

“Ah, okay.” You understand her aversion now, looking over at Tim as you consider how you’re going to tell him that. “I will pass the information along.”

The line goes quiet, Babs clearly sensing your discomfort, but however you’re feeling, Tim is likely feeling one thousand times worse.

Habitually, you tell each other good luck and be safe before hanging up, promising to get back to each other ASAP should anything change.

As you pass by the glass of his cubicle to reach the control panel on the other side Tim follows, falling into stride with you like a mirror image. When you stop, he stops, pressing his forearm to the glass and leaning his weight against it as he awaits your next move. Tilting closer when your fingers graze the comms button. Up close you can see that actually his irises are still blue, they’re just almost non-existent, drowned out by his green sclera’s and the sheer size of his impossibly blown-out pupils.

Bzzt. The mic crackles as you activate it.

“Hi.” You test the waters, but when he doesn’t respond you press on. “Are you in pain?”

He silently gazes at you for so long that you start to think he’s never going to answer you. Dumbly, you tap your finger on the plane to try and coax him out of his head, instantly feeling bad as you remember all those signs in zoos ‘PLEASE DON’T TAP THE GLASS, IT MAY CAUSE STRESS OR HARM TO THE ANIMALS’.

Tim must feel the same, like a caged beast, because the seething in his response startles you.

“No.” He taunts mockingly, mouth still twisted into a tight snarl. “I feel fantastic.”

At least his sharp humour is unaffected.

“Oracle said… that…” You can’t help allowing your eyes to trail down his body, shamelessly locking onto the subject matter, due to the distance and the darkness of his tights you’d hadn’t noticed until now that he’s rock hard, the length of his erection straining against the close-fitting fabric. Your face burns at the realisation, at your obliviousness. Of course he was, that’s what aphrodisiacs do. But mostly you're ashamed of how much you enjoy looking at it.

“Wh-” Tim's voice makes you jump. Embarrassed, you inadvertently take your hand off the switch. An uninfected Tim would have rolled his eyes at that, would have laughed at you good-naturedly, but this Tim just tilts his head like he’s cracking his neck, eye still on you. It’s like he physically can’t look at anything else, can’t stop drinking in every inch and crevice of you, cuts and moles and all. When you push down the button again, he repeats himself impatiently. Bzzt. “What did Oracle say?”

You take a deep breath, staring at the wall behind his head to help you concentrate, determined to get the words out no matter how awkward you feel saying it. “She said that masturbating, specifically ejaculating, won’t fix things, but it should… alleviate some of your discomfort, for a while.”

It’s his turn to drum his fingers on the glass, jaw growing tight as he seems to mull on what you’ve just told him. You chance a glance back down to his crotch just long enough to see him palm his hard-on through his pants. You’re unable to keep from imagining what he looks like down there or how he might go about pleasuring himself. Feeling bad for having such depraved thoughts about him while he’s suffering and vulnerable, you remind yourself not to gawk at him.

“No, I’m not doing that.” He states sternly.

“It might help.” Your objection comes purely from a place of concern.

“What would help me is if you’d fuck off.” His response is like a slap in the face, hitting you out of nowhere. You’re only trying to help, had your wondering eyes really prompted this level of ire?

“Wh- “

“It’s bad enough that I can’t control my body and that I’m stuck in here unable to do anything worth doing, but I have to watch you fucking slutting around in those f-.” Shocked by his sudden outburst, you instinctively pull your hand back. You know he’s just trying to let off his frustrations, but it still stings a little. Feeling bad for silencing his partly warranted rant, you tune back in, unable to keep yourself from flinching and jumpily flailing your hands around every time he gets under your skin. Bzzt. “Should be making an antidote or tracking down Ivy but instead all I can think about is bending you over that-”

Bzzt. “-out there trying to help me and I wanted to punch him for touching you like some macho i-” For the first time since you’d started supervising him, Tim finally looks away from you. Throwing his head back and tugging on his own hair as he tries to compose himself. It doesn’t work. You hadn’t thought it possible but when he finally comes back to you, his face is flooded with even more ferocity, like he wants to eat you alive. Bzzt.“-elp me, if you want to help me then fuck me yourself or get out of my sight!”

There's no way you’ll let him get away with talking to you like this, but now is not the time. Swallowing your pride and clenching your fists, you leave him be, hurrying back to the desk, cursing him under your breath as you pull your feet up into the chair and turn your back to him in order to try and make yourself as small as possible. You hate to admit it, but if it weren’t for the risk of infection, his parting words might have worked. Fuck. The thought of opening that door and letting him bend you over whatever he’d had in mind makes your blood rush.

To distract from the thought of Tim’s cock being buried tight in your walls, or how hot he’d look, panting and red faced beneath you as you fucked yourself on his length, you return to your research, glancing at the live feed to Tim’s cell every few minutes purely to confirm that he’s still alive.

You consider changing into something more conservative, this might be the one and only time you could consider slut-shaming somewhat okay, but to do that he'll be forced to look at you, so ultimately you elect not to.

Filthy thoughts continue to plague your imagination as you try to work, and the knowledge that Tim is thinking them too, only makes it worse. You’re so tired and tense and horny that after a while it becomes difficult to focus. You’re pressing your palms into your eyes when you hear a ping; A message from Spoiler to say that The Narrows was a bust, they’re moving on to another location. Another ping from Red Hood reporting a similar issue with their own intel. One more from Oracle to say that she’s pinpointed 90% of the formula and should be able to start reverse engineering soon.

You chime in to state that Tim is holding up. The computer pings once more, a private message from Oracle asking if it helped. You’re part way through typing that he refused when you glance at the video feed, Tim still has his back to the camera, his body pointed toward you the same way he had been all night. You freeze as you notice his bare ass.

His hose are around his knees, back bent in a hunched position, one arm jerking rapidly to and throw as he presumably strokes his cock. Without thinking you turn to face him, and he brazenly stares back at you. Once your suspicions are confirmed, you rapidly swing back.

He’s working on it. You amend. Unsure what to do from there you needlessly stare at the jagged ceiling, restlessly pulling at your fingers as you try to calm and distract yourself from the fact that Tim is currently playing with himself, and using whatever 2-inches of your skin he can see to fuel his fire. Brain and libido at odds, you force yourself not to look at the spectacle he’s putting on.

He’ll be mortified when he’s cured, don’t make it worse, you think. Yet ultimately you crack, too intrigued not to sneak another peek and once you give in to the temptation it becomes impossible to stop.

You could watch him like that all day. Watch the fierce look of concentration on his face, the bulge in his cheek where he’s biting his tongue. Watch the pink crown of his cock, and the way his balls tighten with each brutal thrust of his fist. Watch the way every lean muscle in his body tenses and twitches as waves of pleasure roll though his body. The way his green veins grow more pronounced as he chases his climax? Wait. That can’t be good.

Had they been green this whole time and you just hadn’t noticed? You've only seen one thing like this before. Venom. Could that be the missing 10%?

As though you hadn’t just been ogling him, you cover your eyes as you approach. This time he doesn’t follow you, legs firmly planted on the ground, but when you glimpse through the cracks in your fingers his head is turned to watch you still and you hastily snap your digits closed again before you speak to him.

Bzzt. “Tim, your veins are turning green.”

At the sound of your voice his knees buckle, your hand falls away to watch as his weakened muscles cause him to fall forward. His weight rests precariously against the glass as he hangs between standing and kneeling.

“Tim. Y- “

“I know.” The aggressiveness in which he snaps at you makes your skin run cold, but he follows it with the most pained, puppy dog eyes that you immediately forgive him. As if you have ever been able to hold anything against him for a substantial period of time.

“It hurts.” His teeth are gritted as he explains. “Hurts when I stop.”

You’ve no idea what to say. You wonder if there’s a painkiller on earth that could help him right now but he speaks again before you can suggest it.

“Help me.” He sounds so solemn, despite the fact that he hasn’t once stopped stroking his dick, closely staring at every curve of your body.

“We’re trying.” Your words barely seem to register with him. “It won’t be much longer.”

“No. Help me.” The repeated instruction does nothing to clarify what else he could mean until he continues. “Your voice sounds so sexy, fuck. Talk to me.”

Oh. “And say what?”

“God, fuck. Do I have to spell it out for you? Anything!” He barks, simultaneously carnal and irritable. Each word out of his mouth is more breathless and desperate than the last. “Fucking anything. Tell me you want me, that you want me to fuck you. Come on, please do this for me.”

“Okay, okay.” You can do this. “I do want you. I want to fuck- I want you to fuck me so bad, Tim.”

Despite it being true, you feel lame, clumsily parroting him, but Tims full bodied reaction spurs you on. He takes the final plunge, dropping onto his knees, leaning back on his haunches and practically presenting his engorged shaft to you. From here you can see how his skin is tinted several shades of pink and red. His blush seems to stem from his chest, running along his neck and shoulders, highlighting his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. You’ve never seen a prettier sight. It’s so enchanting, it almost diverts from his unnerving blood vessels.

“You’re so beautiful.” You purr, finding more confidence with every quiet huff and moan that spills from his lips. “I wish I could do this for you. I want to make you feel so good, I’d let you fuck me anywhere.”

He nods rapidly at you, encouraging you to continue while bucking his hips forward.

“I know your cock would fit just right in my mouth and feel so good, would make me gag until you came down my throat.” You open your mouth and stick your tongue out to show him, feeling silly until he replies.

“Fuck. Yeah. You’d look good sucking on my cock.”

“Yeah!” You agree, just the sight of him is enough to make your heartbeat race. But the thought of taking him in your mouth, slobbering all over his cock and watching him enjoy every second of it makes you rub your thighs together. You want so badly to get yourself off too but the little voice of conscience in the back of your brain is telling you not to, that it would be taking advantage. “Or you could bend me over, rip off my clothes and fuck me. I’d love to feel you pounding into my tight pussy.”

“Oh, pleasepleaseplease.” The words are slurred as he sinks his teeth hard into his tongue.

“You don’t have to beg, Timmy.” He hangs on your every word as you vocalise the thoughts and fantasies you’ve only ever indulge in when you’re alone at night. “You can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want, you can fill me up over and over. We’ll make sure everyone knows who my pussy belongs to. Would you like that?”

“Yes.” The confirmation is instant, no-nonsense. Followed by him closing his eyes and slamming his spare hand against the window to steady himself.

“Mine…” When he opens his eyes again, they unsurprisingly immediately lock onto you once more, zeroing in on your throbbing centre as he tells you. “Let me see it.”

“What?” The saliva in your mouth turns dry in an instant. Despite Tim baring all to you the thought of getting your whole pussy out in the Batcave scares you. In a strangely invigorating way.

“Need to cum and I fucking can’t.” Tim explains weakly, punching the wall again, this time with less vigour. “Show me your cunt.”

The c-word sounds so strange on Tims lips, so filthy. He’s frantic. You’re no closer to understanding how to cure him, and apparently your presence has only made things worse but maybe this is how you help him.

Hurriedly, you scurry over to the Batcomputer, Tim asserting his discontent by hammering his open palm on the wall repeatedly until you return moments later with the desk chair.

You waste little time shimmying out of your sleep shorts before you lose your bravado. Falling back into the chair, you adjust the height until your now exposed pussy is level with Tims eyeline. His demeanour changes in an instant, lips morphing into the first semblance of a smile he’d given you all night as he shifts closer.

Emboldened by his enthusiasm you spread your legs wide, resting your feet on the glass and using your fingers to spread apart your folds for him to get a real look. You’re not sure how he’ll feel about the shameful amount of moisture you’ve produced later, but for now his mouth very visibly waters. You don’t think he’s blinked since you sat down.

Uncurbed, you brush your finger over your sensitive clit, toes curling in response. You’d love to say you did it to put on a show for Tim, to help him find relief but in actuality it’s entirely self-serving. Unable to resist touching yourself at the sight of him on his knees for you, mercilessly fisting his cock in frenzied, rhymeless strokes. Regardless of your motivation, Tim seems to appreciate it.

Strands of his dark hair fall into his face as he leans forward, partly hiding his glassy eyes and reddened cheeks, but he quickly whips them back once more ensuring he maintains an uninhibited view of your fingers as they rapidly paw at your sex. Angling yourself so that Tim can see every minute detail, every roll of your hips as you lower your hand and sink two fingers into yourself. All the while you keep massaging your sensitive bud, Tim’s name a prayer on your lips as you watch him, watching you, fevered and hungry.

It comes as a surprise when your orgasm hits first, walls convulsing and spasming as you objectify yourself for Tim, acting like his personal pornstar. It’s a shame he can’t hear the wetness of your hole or the strangled, lewd gasps and moans that escape your throat as your body trembles from the intensity of your climax.

The slick of your release leaks from your sex, trickling between your legs, down the chair, and onto the metal floor. Like a man starved, Tim slams his face into the glass, finally closing his eyes and lapping at the pane with a flattened tongue.

Whatever vision he’s conjuring works, his lids twitch, eyes darting open to watch your panting frame. He looks sacrilegious, full body blushed and sweating. His face softens, mouth slack and drooling as rope after rope of cum spills from his reddened tip and hits the pane.

You’re only able to enjoy the sight of him coming apart for a moment before you notice that the viscous fluid is unsettlingly coloured. Not milky white as it should be, but a strange, luminous green colour.

Tim slumps downward once he’s spent, and you watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest while he comes down from his high. Your heart aching as you wonder whether his pain has been even slightly alleviated. The fact that the swelling of his veins seems to have subsided bodes well. Eventually he comes too, enough to also notice the puddle of green excrement between his legs and it’s your turn to all but lunch yourself at him. You shout falls on deaf ears until your kick’s echoes into his cell. His hand freezes and he watches, still hunched as you stumble to the control panel on unsteady legs.

“Don’t touch it.” Tim nods sheepishly in agreement. It probably won’t hurt him, having come from inside him, but better safe than sorry. “I’m gonna grab you some gloves and slides to take samples with.”

Before he can concur, you’re gone, inelegantly hiking your bottoms back on as you go. You feel bad, jumping straight back into business without so much of a ‘how was that for you?’ but these are strange circumstances, and whatever freaky substance he just shot out of his balls might be the missing puzzle piece in treating him.

Eventually, once you’d collected everything you’ll need and updated the Team, you do ask, holding the mic down with your elbow as you pull on a pair of rubber gloves, waiting to take the samples from him. “How do you feel?”

“Hot, and sore.” He tells you. He’s pulled his trousers back up, but you can still see the outline of his half-hard penis. “It’s still in me, I can feel it, but it doesn’t hurt as much. I can think. Which is something.”

“I’m glad it helped. Hopefully we’ll get you back to normal before it gets bad again.” He offers you a smile then. A genuine, none-hedonic one that makes you feel fuzzy. You’ve missed that smile.

“Yeah, hopefully.” He places the slides, tools, and used gloves in the containment slot and closes his side of the two-way mechanism. You offer him a half heart which he returns before you start sorting and bagging everything.

You’re about to turn your back when he taps gently on the glass, gesturing for you to open the comms line again and you oblige with your elbow once more.

“Listen, I’m really sorry for being an ass earlier. You didn’t deserve what I said to you.”

You can tell he’s stressing about it from the gloomy look in his blue-green eyes and the way he tugs at his waistband. Normally he fidgets with his gloves or his collar, but needs must an’ all. You’d give anything to be able to hug him right now.

“Don’t worry, I know you didn’t really mean it.” Admittedly it had shaken you, for all of five minutes, but you’ve never been able to stay mad at Tim, even at his worst, and you’ve seen him do far worse. “You weren’t really mad at me, right? Just the situation?”

“Yeah. Mostly myself but that doesn’t make it okay.” He’s still fiddling, still looking at you mournfully. It means a lot that it bothers him so much, but you need that to stop. You need him to be normal for like half an hour so you can get some work done without worrying. And you need to get the work done so you can make up for your own misdeeds.

“No really, it’s fine I don’t care.” You stress, hoping if you chide him a little it will absolve him of his guilt. “Just don’t do it again.”

“I’ll try not to.” He promises. You can tell by the way he works his jaw back and forth that he’s working up to say something else, something that has his ears and cheeks turning pink. That or the absolved symptoms are coming back already. “And thank you. For the other stuff.”

“Oh good, I was worried you might regret that part.” You hadn’t realised how badly you needed to hear him say that until it happened. It’d kill you and whatever situationship you have going on if he’d considered your actions exploitative.

“No! Not at all. I mean, I always kind of hoped that one day we might end up…” He vaguely gestures into the air which doesn’t help his point, but you understand what he’s getting at and nod, urging him to continue. “You know? But I never would have imagined it happening like this.”

“I know what you mean. I always figured something might…” You’re floundering. This is not the time or place for this conversation, you’re completely unprepared and as badly as this conversation needs to be had, you really don’t have time. “I mean, I wouldn’t wish what’s happening on anyone, but if it had to happen, I’m glad it was you. Because you’re the only person I would have done that for.”

You can’t imagine having done that for Dick, or Barbara, or God forbid Bruce. Just thinking about it makes your stomach churn.

“Good.” He seems more relieved now than he had when he’d cum. “I’d hate it if you’d done that with anyone else.”

If this were a movie or an action-romance novel, this is the part where you’d kiss, you think. But it’s not, and every second the two of you spend stammering about your feelings and making go-go eyes at each other is a second that could be spent on finding an antidote.

“We’ll talk, later.” You promise.

“I’d like that.” Tim replies before you pull away from the keypad. In a moment of whimsy, you blow your hot breath against the glass until it’s steamed up before pressing your puckered lips on it. No sound escapes the barrier between you, but you can see Tim laughing, his cheeks still palpably pink. He returns the gesture just moments before the Batcomputer begins to buzz.

Hi friend! I just wanted to let you know that I'm glad you exist. ♥︎

#gilverrwrites #dc #reader insert #tim drake #tim drake/reader #tim drake x reader #red robin/reader #red robin x reader #red robin #nsft #as always i wrote this with AK Tim in mind but I added the long hair cause I know ya'll are thinking of pretty boy tim #i love em both but AK Tim is my true love #f reader

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mickeyluggage · 6 months ago

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I need help from some native speakers

So in Reservoir dogs, when Larry and Freddy enter the wharehouse for the first time, Freddy says this:

And the subtitles always show that he's saying this:

But I'm pretty sure I hear "She had a baby man, she had a baby" which would then be a reference to the woman he killed right after she shot him.

I talked about this with a friend and apparently in the french dub they say "tu vas m'sauver" which means "you're going to save me".

So is there a mistake in the subtitles that somehow made it through a whole dubbing of the movie, or am I tripping when I hear "she had a baby"???

#reservoir dogs #quentin tarantino #tim roth #mr orange #harvey keitel #mr white #freddy newandyke #larry dimmick

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misirosekisiro · 1 year ago

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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.

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