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 The guy is taller than his pictures suggested, and more handsome, too.

Namjoon, Yoongi reminds himself because that is less rude than calling him ‘the guy’, even if they had only exchanged names just now. Even if Yoongi is so nervous he thinks he might bolt at any moment.

But Namjoon is polite and he is smiling, and perhaps his calm is just a façade, but Yoongi cannot help but feel slightly more at ease in return.

“So,” Yoongi starts. Instead of fidgeting, he twirls his spoon through his coffee, staring into it as he waits for it to cool. “This is weird.”

“It is,” Namjoon agrees with a mild chuckle. He is a year younger than Yoongi, but self-assured. Perhaps it’s just because he is an alpha, it’s hard to tell. Yoongi finds himself somewhat envious, but that’s nothing new.

They’ve been casually talking for a couple of weeks now. Discussing fantasies and where they would draw the limits. How far they really want to go.

It had been a liberating experience, almost spiritual. Yoongi had never dared to tell anyone the true extent of his desires, had only recently – shamefully – begun to look up porn online. He understands there is a bit of a community there, others who share the fetish, who have found ways to fulfill their needs. So it is comforting to know that there are others like him. That he is no complete oddity. No traitor to his sex.

It had taken him years to understand why none of his relationships worked out, why all his sexual encounters seemed so lackluster. And then several more months to truly admit to himself that this is not a weird phase, not a hormonal or mental instability. That this is something that he wants, that he needs .

And then, finally, when he had started to go looking, he had found Namjoon.

“I want to repeat,” Namjoon says now what he has already said multiple times as they agreed on their first meeting today, here, in public, at this nondescript coffee shop. “That absolutely nothing has to happen. If you change your mind for whatever reason, you don’t have to justify yourself. You don’t even have to let me down gently. You can just get up and walk out that door.”

Yoongi swallows.

“I’d like to drink my coffee first,” he says. He doesn’t make any promises but, so far, Namjoon seems very likeable and kind. Almost too kind, to be honest. Yoongi is not sure whether he really believes that Namjoon can give him what he wants.

Then again, Yoongi admits to himself, he isn’t quite sure either whether he truly wants it in the first place.

“If you want to, we can discuss more details,” Namjoon offers. “I know we’ve done a bit of that before, but it’s a little different face to face, I think. More intimate.”

Yoongi nods, though his mouth his dry. He takes a quick sip of his coffee, only burns his tongue a little. He warily eyes the repulsive concoction that Namjoon had turned his latte into by pouring four sachets of sugar into it, followed by another straight into his mouth. Upon second thought, maybe the man is messed up after all.

“I don’t-” Yoongi begins, purses his lips. When he continues speaking, he makes sure his voice is quiet enough to easily be lost in the chatter of voices around them. “I don’t want to set real boundaries. That’s the point of it.”

“I know,” Namjoon agrees. “But we still need safety measures in place. A safe word. If we are going to do this, I mean. I don’t want to presume, of course.”

So goddamn polite. It’s really ridiculous, considering what Yoongi is asking him to do.

“Fine,” he says anyway. “What kinda safe word do you want? And don’t pick something stupid.”

“I was thinking of the standard traffic light system?” Namjoon offers. “Red, yellow, green?”

Yoongi considers that.

“You’re not gonna ask me, right?” he makes sure. “I only say red or yellow when I am truly uncomfortable with something. And if it’s green, I won’t have to say it at all. You just… go ahead.”

Namjoon nods. “I would always give you a moment during which you could say something, of course. But yeah, I wouldn’t ask for your permission.”

It takes all of Yoongi’s willpower to not start squirming on his chair right then and there.

He takes a large gulp of his coffee, thankfully a more pleasant temperature now, sets the mug down only to lift it up again and empty the rest.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” Yoongi excuses himself, pushing his chair back and abandoning both his empty mug and Namjoon at their little corner table.

He weaves his way through the coffeeshop, over to where he has seen the bathroom sign. There is a narrow hallway, clean, three doors designating unisex toilets. He ducks into the first one, locks the door behind himself. It’s just one small room, a sink, a mirror, a toilet, a urinal. It’s not the cleanest he has ever seen, but he just quickly takes a leak, does up his pants again and then washes his hands. 

He stares into the mirror, his pale reflection, the faint shadows underneath his eyes, wondering what the hell went wrong in his life.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Just a second,” he calls out, shaking his hands rather than drying them with a paper towel. He unlocks the door again, pushes against it. Suddenly, it flies outward instead, opening into a wide gap, a man right in front of him.

For a moment, Yoongi is confused, reels back a little. He realizes the man is actually Namjoon, but the expression on his face is intense, and then Namjoon is pushing inside, pushing Yoongi back, swiftly closing the door and locking it.

“What-“ Yoongi says, because he doesn’t understand.

But then Namjoon is already upon him, grabbing him by the collar, spinning him around. Yoongi’s head bangs against the door, not hard but enough to disorient him even more, his damp hands scrambling along the smooth surface.

His breath is coming short and shallow, his instincts going haywire because he doesn’t know what’s happening, he doesn’t know what to do , there’s only the smell of an unfamiliar alpha pressing close, breathing down his neck, and Yoongi has to squeeze his eyes shut to stave off the panic when he feels a hand reach around. Then, the button of his jeans is being undone, the denim pushed aside, his underwear pulled down with such force that the fabric protests noisily, protests more than Yoongi who can only helplessly gasp for air.

“If you scream, I’m gonna choke you, you worthless piece of shit,” the alpha warns him, not even waiting for a nod. A second later, he is kicking Yoongi’s legs apart, reaching between them and roughly showing two fingers up inside his cunt.

Yoongi gives a high-pitched mewl, unable to stop himself. The fingers are long and rigid, efficiently opening him up. The other hand is clenched around the back of Yoongi’s neck, pressing his face against the door. Centimeters separating him from freedom.

“God, you’re already wet, you bitch,” the alpha growls into his ear. “I bet you’ve been waiting for someone to just plow your pussy, hm?”

Yoongi whimpers, tries to shake his head. He feels so violated, so dirty. He didn’t think he’d ever find himself in a situation like this. Slick is running out of him, coating his thighs.

“Been waiting for someone like you,” the alpha tells him. “Someone who won’t fight back.”

Yet something about that taunt finally kicks Yoongi’s brain back into gear. He is in a bathroom in a coffeeshop and a stranger is about to fuck him against his will.

“No,” he grinds out, struggling against the hold. “ No !”

The alpha is strong. Too strong. The grip he has on Yoongi’s neck is like a vice, barely letting him budge.

“The more you fight, the more this will hurt,” the alpha promises. He pulls his fingers free from Yoongi, and Yoongi can feel tears of shame burning in the corners of his eyes because his pussy feels so empty .

He hears the sound of a zipper being undone, of fabric rustling, and then – no, no, no – the alpha is pressing even closer, and Yoongi can feel the head of his cock nudging up between his legs where his labia are spread and throbbing and-

Yoongi’s fists clench and he bites his lower lip till he tastes blood, but that does not protect him from being penetrated in one quick upward thrust that sheaths the stranger’s cock deeply inside him, just this side of painful. He makes a sound, not quite a howl, low and drawn out, and he still hears the alpha growl behind him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hisses, leaning in close enough that he can lick across the shell of Yoongi’s ear. “Bet you haven’t had dick in a while. Bet you’ve never taken one as big as mine.”

He might well be right, Yoongi thinks, helplessly. He’s not inexperienced, not at all, but the cock sits inside him like something completely foreign, too big, too hard, too dangerous.

With a renewed sort of panic, Yoongi realizes that the stranger did not bother with protection, that he might be passing on some disease to Yoongi or even possibly get him pregnant, and Yoongi cannot risk that, he cannot, so he lashes out, knocks his pointy elbow right into the solar plexus of the alpha.

The alpha wheezes, reels back a little, pulling out his cock just a few centimeters – but then he is pushing forward with even more strength, his other hand coming up to gather both of Yoongi’s wrists and pressing them against the door as well, the bones crunching unpleasantly.

Yoongi gasps when the alpha begins fucking him in earnest, the smell of arousal thick in his nose. His own hips are pushed forward with each thrust, his cock brushing against the cool surface of the door, hard in unwilling physical reaction.

He closes his eyes again, tries to shut everything out, but that only intensifies the sounds of the alpha grunting into his ear, the feeling of the alpha shoving his cock into him again and again as though Yoongi is a just a hole, just a thing to derive pleasure from.

It could have been anyone else. If Yoongi hadn’t come here today, if someone else had been around when he opened the bathroom door, this would not be happening. It’s just a twist of fate. The alpha saw him and the alpha wanted him because omegas are only objects in his eyes.

“Fucking. Slut,” the alpha bites out, his hip bones pressed so hard against Yoongi’s ass that he knows he’ll have bruises for days. The thrusts are growing more erratic now, and Yoongi is whimpering again because this cannot be happening, the alpha cannot possibly come inside him, he’ll-

Yoongi’s orgasm hits him so suddenly that he nearly chokes on it, spit catching in his throat and making him breathless. All the tension is his body breaks, his cunt spasming around the cock that is still pounding into him while he comes all over the bathroom door.

Yoongi is sobbing now, his body sunken, sagging in the still relentless hold the alpha.

“What a whore,” the alpha mocks. “Coming untouched while you’re being bred by a stranger. You sure this is your first time?”

Yoongi tries to swallow his tears, but the pleasure is still tingling through him, making him weak, or maybe that is just the fading adrenaline.

“Please,” he begs, though he doesn’t even know what for. The alpha gives it to him anyway.

He comes inside of Yoongi, deeply, shoots his load in him and grinds against him as he rides out the high. It’s only now that his grip slackens a little and, when he finally pulls out, he lets go completely.

Yoongi’s knees buckle underneath him, impacting with the tiled floor.

“Do not tell anyone about this, you hear me?” the alpha says. He’s tugged himself away again and he is lightly kicking at Yoongi, nudging him out of the way. Then he is opening the door, just wide enough to squeeze outside, and a moment later he is gone.

The whole thing lasted maybe five minutes, but it felt like much longer.

Yoongi fights his way off the floor, does up his pants with shaking fingers. He goes to grab some toilet paper, bundles it up to wipe his cum off the door, and then flushes everything down the toilet. There is little to be done about the smell of sex permeating the air, so he leaves the bathroom, shamefaced, knowing that whoever goes in next will know exactly what had gone down there.

Well, he amends. Not exactly. No one would know that one of his darkest fantasies just got fulfilled in the best way possible.

As Yoongi walks back to their table, he can feel warm cum drip out of him, soiling his underwear. If anyone got too close, they would smell this, too, and the knowledge sends a shiver down his spine.

Namjoon is sitting in his chair, legs casually crossed as he finishes his latte. When he notices Yoongi’s approach, he looks up.

“Want to leave?” he asks innocently and Yoongi gives a numb nod.


 

Yoongi doesn’t quite know when he first realized that he was different.

Maybe it was still in school, when he was with his first boyfriend and they had sex, and Yoongi was majorly disappointed because it was so boring. So literally anticlimactic. But he’d heard from others that the first time was often like that, so he shrugged and waited for it to get better, to become more exciting. Only it didn’t and Yoongi grew frustrated, so he dumped his boyfriend, even though he was sweet.

Yoongi was never exactly in love with him, though, and he blamed it on that, waited for someone who made his feelings a little realer. It’s better when you’re in love, his friends had told him, whenever he complained or whenever they just had gotten into a new relationship. So Yoongi dated caring guys, funny guys, serious guys, passionate guys. And still… nothing.

For a while, he tried sleeping around. Tried out anyone who might give him whatever he was looking for. Alphas, betas, once even a drunk omega at a party. But still, sex to Yoongi seemed more like a nuisance. Something his mind and body obviously wanted, but that ultimately left him dissatisfied.

He told some of his partners, in not so many words, that he liked it rough, that he enjoyed getting manhandled. A few of them tried and half-succeeded, but most just floundered a little, overwhelmed by his demands. There was one who fucked him reasonably well but who then started to say some questionable shit outside of the bedroom, and another who misunderstood and thought Yoongi was into that whole BDSM stuff.

But Yoongi does not want to submit. He does not want to obey and get rewarded for good behavior. He doesn’t want to kneel by someone’s feet or to sit still as they twine rope around him.

And that’s when Yoongi admitted to himself that he wants to get raped.

 

 

 

“I hope this was alright for you,” Namjoon says quietly when they have walked in silence for a while and he has bought them popsicles. It’s barely even spring and Yoongi isn’t much one for sweet things, but he appreciates the gesture. Appreciates that he has an excuse to take a moment before he can reply.

“Honestly,” he says, pulling the popsicle from his mouth. “I think that was the best sex I ever had.”

It’s no exaggeration, no calculated flattery. Namjoon had fucked him well and good, just like Yoongi had hoped for. No one else had ever been able to give it to him like that. No one else had ever understood that, when Yoongi said rough , he really meant rough .

“Good,” Namjoon says, ducking his head, though the tone of his voice still makes it clear that he is trying to suppress a proud smile. “That’s good.”

Yoongi eyes him from the side, not quite surreptitiously, this lanky guy, more boy than man in some of his mannerisms, but then so eloquent and thoughtful that Yoongi is tempted to almost call him wise.

So far, they’ve exchanged only a handful of words in person, even though Yoongi’s pussy is still wet from what went down in the bathroom, but their conversations online had been enlightening to say the least.

When Yoongi had started to go looking for some sort of hookup, it turned out that finding alphas who thought about raping omegas was done easily enough. The trick was to find someone who was not an actual rapist. Yoongi had nearly given up because how the hell was a paradox like this supposed to exist on earth? How could there be some guy who was willing and able to treat him like shit while they were fucking, but who would not actually look down on him?

Then again, Yoongi muses, maybe he is a paradox all by himself. An omega, emancipated and outspoken, someone who demands respect and equal pay, and who does not buy into outdated social hierarchies. An omega who still gets off on the thought of how some run-along alpha might just pull him into a dark alley and fuck him and use him and discard him like trash.

Yoongi had thought that, if he ever confessed this to anyone, he would die of shame. But then he explained it to Namjoon, and he didn’t die, and it was honestly kind of wonderful to talk to someone who stood on the other side of his fantasies.

“Isn’t it only true liberation when everyone can do what they desire?” Namjoon had asked him, a truly eye-opening question. “I am not talking about actual rape and abuse of course. But if this is what you want, and what your partner wants, then doesn’t that make it alright? Why should anyone, whether they be omega rights activist or some idiots who believe in alpha supremacy, get to tell you how to enjoy yourself?”

In a way, Yoongi figures, Namjoon has it even harder. Because he does support omega rights, he seems like a genuinely sweet guy. Reconciling that with his dreams of overwhelming an omega and violently fucking them surely must have been a challenge as well.

“So,” Namjoon says. He’s eaten his popsicle in record time and is now licking the wooden stick clean. “If you enjoyed yourself, it’s probably not too forward of me to hope for a repeat performance?”

At the mere suggestion, Yoongi’s guts twist pleasantly.

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Nice, as though they are just agreeing on grabbing another cup of coffee sometime. As though this has been a normal first date.

“If you have any more specific ideas,” Namjoon offers. “Any scenario you’d like to act out, you can let me know whenever you want to. If not, I think I’d really like to surprise you.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches. They’d have to discuss everything over the phone later, but he can only imagine what Namjoon is thinking of. Something like following him home late at night. Breaking into his apartment. Pulling him into his car.

The thought that, once Namjoon would know his routines, would know where he lived and worked, like a stalker, could do anything to him at any time, makes fresh slick drip out of him. Namjoon gives him a knowing look, followed by a smile.

“I take it you like that then,” he says, self-satisfied, and part of Yoongi wants to punch him. Wants to punch him and scream and wrestle and ultimately be overpowered and pressed down into the dirt and-

Abruptly, Yoongi turns his face away. His cheeks burn but he hopes it’s not too visible.

“I have some ideas,” he admits, quietly. He’d rather not discuss them in person, though, especially not in public. But he likes the prospect of being able to just… text Namjoon some requests and know that they will be fulfilled. Like a drive thru, but with rape fantasies. 

The thought is so absurd that he cannot help but giggle, biting down on the wooden stick of his popsicle.

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask. He probably just thinks Yoongi made himself nervous or embarrassed with his own ideas for their future scenes.

For a few moments, they just walk side by side through the small park, quietly finishing their popsicles, cherry and lemon respectively. Around them, people are enjoying the pleasant weather, parents with their children, people walking their dogs. In the trees, bright green in their spring foliage, birds are singing. All in all, it is absurdly picturesque for how the overall premise of their date.

“There’s actually another thing I wanted to ask you,” Namjoon says eventually and, strangely, now he is the one who sounds hesitant.

“Yeah?” Yoongi asks, apprehensive, slowly coming to a halt. He was under the impression that they had discussed all their major kinks before and were pretty much on the same page, so he hopes that Namjoon is not going to blindside him with something Yoongi is absolutely not willing to try.

“Uh,” Namjoon says, scratching the back of his head, the other hand plucking his own popsicle stick from between his full lips as he faces Yoongi. “Would it be alright if I kissed you goodbye?”

Yoongi’s mouth falls open and he stares up at the man who pretended to rape him half an hour ago and now seems too shy to simply kiss him.

“Yes, of fucking course it is,” he says bewildered, tossing his popsicle stick into the trashcan a few meters away. 

At Yoongi’s blunt reply Namjoon just smiles, warm and golden and utterly disarming. Yoongi thinks he might find himself a little in too deep much too quickly.

A moment later, Namjoon has lifted his hands to Yoongi’s face, gently cradling his cheeks between him palms. When he leans down to kiss Yoongi, his breath his warm and his lips very soft and tasting of cherry.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Namjoon tells him, whispered between their mouths, and Yoongi can only nod mutely. Then Namjoon lets go, takes a step back and gives a dorky little salute.

Yoongi snorts and shakes his head, surprised by how genuinely endeared he is by this random dude he found online.

“See you next time,” he says, tries for casual even though the knowledge of a next time excites him beyond belief.

“Great,” Namjoon returns, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he gives Yoongi a last glance up and down, as though evaluating him, thinking about what he might to do him when they meet for the second time. “I can’t wait.”

And maybe Yoongi should pretend in this, too, should play a little hard to get, see how Namjoon reacts to that. But he really doesn’t want to.

“Yeah,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Me either.”