angst (my favorite), hurt/comfort, toxic relationships, yandere themes, self insert, a bit of violence, literally almost everything.
I'm trying with smut!
𖤐 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎
incest and omegaverse. the first bc I feel a little uncomfortable and second, because I don't know how to approach the subject (sorry 4 the omegaverse)
Pairing: producer! best friend! yoongi x best friend! fem! reader
Summary: Life is taken for granted. People like to kill time not knowing it is time who is killing them. Love is not always a medicine, fate is always cruel. Or in which Yoongi realised his mistakes too late and was sentenced to live with an empty soul. There are times in which you can't always be there. He knew he was too late.
Warnings: ANGST, so much angst guys, medical terms, terminal sickness, argument, fainting, character death, more angst, feelings of guilt and desperation. (Let me know if I missed anything!)
A/N: Soooo, this was originally planned to be a drabble but it escalated so, hehe here it is! Also, I'm still working on the next part of Four Seasons. It'll be a long chapter so please bear with me.
Please let me know what you thought of this in the comments! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one.
Word Count: 5.1k
"Three months at the most."
Said the doctor. You looked at him. No emotion marked your beautiful features. You blinked. A second passed. Then another and another. The world continued on its normal course while your sentence was already dictated. It almost seemed comical.
"There is, of course, a surgery we could perform on your brain. But I'm afraid it will only allow you to live for a year, year and a half if we are lucky. But it'd be dangerous. Even performing a biopsy is risky in your condition, Miss Lee."
You took a deep breath, your hand clutched your purse as it rested in your lap. The tickling of the clock was driving you insane, you wanted to leave your doctor's office, you wanted to run, to scream, to cry but your body was frozen in place.
A soft smile plastered on your face, the only reaction you could fathom at the moment.
"Thank you, Doctor Kim. I'll... I'll think about it."
He stood up, towering over you as he said with a nod. His hand extended to shake yours.
"Please, do so. Come in a few weeks if you start having headaches."
You nodded, shaking his hand as you also stood up.
"I will. Have a good day, Doctor Kim."
Your hand left his and you turned around to leave. Your feet carrying you out of the room that suddenly felt too small. You only wanted to go back to your flat and curl on your bed.
In a monotonous way you paid for the appointment at the reception of the hospital. Your eyes didn't focus on anything in particular while also noticing everything at the same time.
You walked slowly through the busy streets, the evening sun kissing your skin. The steps you took were automatic, you allowed your legs to take you home while in your mind there was only space for the doctor's words.
"Three months at the most."
That phrase repeated itself over and over again in your head. How you wished to just be home right now however, you decided to not take a cab, you wanted to enjoy the walk. Admire nature as you pass by the park and feel the sun in your skin.
Rarely did you ever pay attention to all those little things. Details that gave colour to your life. Details you were never able to forget. Not until it would happen and you'd leave this place. But you still had some time. Three months was too much.
Or that was what you thought.
~ 73 days later.
"You are hiding something from me!"
Yoongi exclaimed. Your heart clenched at the words coming out of your best friend's mouth. It hurt. It hurt to not tell him. For you to leave him in the dark. For him to think you weren't being honest with him.
You both had been friends for so long you couldn't count the days any longer.
"I'm not! Don't you trust me? We've been friends for so long, Yoongi!"
He sighed, wetting his lips as he tried to form words with his muddy thoughts swirling all over his head. He wasn't stupid. You'd been acting weird as of lately. You often gave him excuses of why you didn't want to leave your flat and when you both would go out he'd notice things.
He'd always notice when something was bothering you, when you were in pain, when too many thoughts were going on through your head. He knew you. Probably better than he knew himself.
All those little suspicions, the strange headaches you'd have only for later to vanish into thin air. The way you looked paler than usual, how you were overly tired.
He had noticed.
Yoongi would be a fool to not acknowledge the signs happening in front of his eyes. Yet his mind couldn't get a conclusion. Instead he was blinded by worry over you. Worry expressed as anger. As desperation. As frustration.
"It is you who is not trusting me, (y/n)! I know something's going on. And I will figure it out whether you like it or not."
"I do trust you."
Your voice sounded so hurt and small with those four words whispered out. Tears clouded your vision but you didn't fight back the moisture in your eyes. You kept looking at him in desperation.
Couldn't he just let it pass?
Apparently not. Yoongi was a stubborn man. If he wanted something, he got it. One way or another. But how would you tell him you were dying? How would you tell your best friend you didn't have much time to live? He had planned on taking you on vacation together after he had signed a good contract with a singer.
He promised to treat you to ice cream next Sunday. You promised that you'd be with him forever. You had been with him forever. In everything he had ever accomplished you had been there. You had been there to dry his tears and smile with him. to celebrate his victories and advise him during hard times.
You had always been there. Always by his side. Always in his life.
Did you have the right to take that away from him?
You were a coward. Yes. You knew that yourself. A part of you didn't want to acknowledge the fact that you were dying. And it hurt so much when Yoongi couldn't see further than his own assumptions. He didn't see you as someone he could trust anymore. He thought you were hiding something from him. Which, technically, you were.
Never in your life had you ever hidden something from him. That was why it hurt him so much when he realised there was something going on in your life that was taking a toll on you and he didn't know.
Yoongi ran a hand through his dark hair, his gaze softened slightly at the sound of your delicate voice. So vulnerable. So hurt. It wasn't like you to talk like that.
But despite his heart clenching at the sight of your tears, his next words cut you deeper than any knife could ever harm you. Not even the doctor's words three months ago had hurt as much as Yoongi's words.
"It doesn't seem like it. But if you don't want to tell me, fine. Take your secrets to your grave, I don't care."
Take your secrets to your grave.
If only he knew you were already standing above it. If only he had known those words had made your heart shatter in such a way you couldn't even fathom to say something, if only he knew there was more that met his sight.
If only he knew.
You didn't say anything. Silent tears were running down your cheeks. This was it. The tread you feared would ever break. He had broken it when you were already so sick, when your days were numbered. He had broken a friendship of years with a single sentence.
You were to blame too. If you hadn't been so scared, this argument would have never happened. This gap wouldn't exist. You are to blame too. You are at fault too. You ruined his trust, played with his emotions, wasted his time. All for what? So that you could keep a secret that would eventually come out?
But now it was too late.
Yoongi didn't want to hear anything else. You opened your mouth to say something. Anything at all. But the words died in your throat, shot down by his disappointed declaration instead.
"I'm leaving. I need some space to think."
Your hands trembled as they hung next to you limply. You were losing him. Yoongi, who was your closest friend, your best friend. The closest thing you ever had of a family. The man who owned your heart in more ways than he thought.
You lost him.
He wasn't going to intrude where he wasn't welcome. He wasn't going to push you. If you weren't going to trust him, there was no point in him staying in a place he no longer felt welcomed.
Yoongi turned around and left, not allowing you to say a single word. He wished you had stopped him. He wished you had walked over to him and grabbed his wrist, pleading him to listen. For you to tell him whatever was happening that made you hide it.
He wanted to know.
He needed to know.
Because his heart screamed a name he didn't want to recognise. His soul yearned for the touch of a woman he was yet to take into account. His mind was busy with thoughts of you. Memories of you. Plans with you.
But he didn't know what it meant. He didn't know what he so deeply desired. Needed. So he left.
Yoongi left you to yourself, your front door shut and you were alone. Alone for good. Left behind. Abandoned. Everyone has a limit and Yoongi has gotten to that limit.
He said he needed space to think. Space to be on his own. Time to think if your friendship was worthy of keeping or if he had to let it go. Despite the pain his soul would suffer and the wrecked heart he'd have to endure.
Sometimes it's better to just let go.
But he didn't know what he was letting go. He didn't know anything. Yoongi left without answers and you stayed with a broken heart.
It's been a week since that argument. There had been no calls or texts from Yoongi. And you weren't going to get in contact first either. He wanted space, you'd give him that. He wanted time, you'd give him what you had left.
You sat in front of your desk, soft rain pattered over the glass. It was calming. Soothing in a way. A pen rested in your hand as words were being scribbled down on a sheet of paper addressed to him. To Yoongi.
You were giving him all the time you had for him to come back. But just in case you ran out of it, you wanted to explain everything to him. He deserved to know. You realised that now. He had deserved to know since the very beginning.
But you were scared. You had been selfish. You chose to live in a fantasy when reality clawed its way through you, tearing you apart in your little safe world that you wish would come true. But wishes never come true. There are no happy endings for liars. There is no mercy to change your fate.
You put the letter on an envelope with Yoongi's name written on the front. It was a letter only for his eyes to read and his mind to comprehend. It was for his mind to keep and his heart to treasure. Only for him. Always for him.
You stood up, the destination of your bedroom in mind as you were feeling tired. It wasn't unusual these days. The naps you took were getting longer and longer. You knew one day you might as well not wake up again.
But fate wasn't that merciful. You took a step, a single step forward only to have a piercing ache in your head that made you hiss. You shut your eyes, trying to get it to pass but it didn't work. If only it only got stronger with each passing second.
Your hands clasped at your scalp, fingers pulling your hair in a desperate need of relief.
The realisation hit you stronger than a train. You needed help. And you needed it fast. You stumbled towards the coffee table, the only goal in your mind was to get your phone and call for help. Something was wrong. Very wrong. You knew it. You felt it. You couldn't ignore it anymore.
With a shaking hang you reached for your phone, you didn't even bother to unlock it as you pressed the emergency call button. It rang and rang and rang, the pain continued to increase, your vision blurred.
You prayed to the skies that the person on the other line would answer. It was your only chance. The last straw to life you clawed at desperately. But it rang again and again and again and you couldn't help thinking that perhaps this was it.
Yoongi came back from the bathroom in his studio, he had been working on some new beats he wanted to try out in the near future. He had been keeping himself busy with work so as to not think about the fight he had with you a week ago.
A part of him wished you'd call him or text him but he knew you too well. If he had asked for space you were going to give him that. This was probably the worst fight you two had ever had throughout your years of friendship
He sat back down in front of the large computer screen, putting on his headphones. Yoongi continued with his work.
It wasn't until out of the corner of his eyes he saw the phone's screen lighten up. He didn't have to look at it to know someone was calling him. He sighed, taking the headphones off and saving the file with his music before he blindly picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
But there was silence. No-one answered back and for a moment, Yoongi thought it was one of those scam calls he always blocked. But before he could hang up, his name reached his ear in your whispered voice.
"Yoongi..."
He knew something was wrong the moment the first syllable reached him. He frowned, leaning forward in his chair as he tried to listen to your voice.
"(y/n)? What's wrong? Are you alright?"
The fight he had with you vanished from his thoughts as they were clouded with worry for you. He was getting scared, never in your life had you called him in such a state that it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with nerves.
You whimpered, pressing the phone close to your ear. The pain in your head was getting stronger and stronger that you couldn't speak.
"(y/n)?"
Your best friend's voice came from the other side of the phone, if you hadn't been so blinded by the white pain pressing on your skull you would have noticed the concern in his deep voice.
"(y/n), you are scaring me, what's going on?"
Yoongi stood up from his chair, grabbing his car keys in a hurry.
"H-help me."
When you dialled your emergency contact you didn't remember you had saved Yoongi's number there.
Those two words were enough to have him bolting out of the door. The destination of your place carved in his mind as he left the building.
He kept his phone pressed to his ear as he ran through the studio. His heart was beating so fast in his chest he thought it would leave his body. Adrenaline pumped in his veins. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
The fact itself scared him, because that something had to do with you. He felt as if the building was larger than normal. Like in those nightmares as he tried to reach the exit but it got further and further away. This had to be a nightmare, right?
He heard your gasp through the phone unaware of the fact that you had fallen to your knees in your apartment, your other hand clutching your head in a vice grip.
"(y/n/n) talk to me. I need you to say something. Please."
Yoongi reached the door and pulled on the handle with more force than was needed. He stepped outside, inhaling the humid air as the soft drizzle tapped against his form.
"I'm sorry."
He yanked the car door open and got inside, one hand was on the steering wheel while the other still held his phone against the side of his face.
"It's alright, (y/n). I'm on my way, okay? Just hold on, I'll be there in a second."
But you didn't hear those words from him. There was a ringing in your ears that took hold of your senses, the phone slipped from your grasp as you fell to the ground over the soft carpet with a dry sound. You closed your eyes, allowing the pain to take you in its claws of darkness as you surrendered yourself to it.
You had been fighting for so long. A little nap wouldn't harm you. You slipped into unconsciousness with the last thought in your mind being: Yoongi.
The man who you were previously speaking to fell into a frenzy when he heard the sound of the phone colliding with your carpeted floor. The hand on the wheel tightened to the point where his knuckles turned white.
"Darling, answer me please! Say something."
But he could only hear your laboured breaths from the other line. He ended the call and threw his phone on the passenger's seat. A curse leaving his lips. If the circumstances had been different, he would have blushed when the nickname escaped his lips but he couldn't fight it in a moment like this. He couldn't help the fear, the anxiety, the stress, the guilt from controlling his mind.
From making him act the way he was. He pressed on the gas and accelerated into the street. Not caring if he got a ticket for the speed limit, not caring if he drenched the bypassers with his car, not caring for anything else other than getting to you.
Tears of desperation began forming in his dark eyes but he blinked them back. It was not the time to cry. Not now. Not when you needed him. Not when you were in danger. Not when you had called him to help you. Not when his heart yearned to have you, feel you, touch you.
Not now.
Yoongi arrived at your flat in record time. With his heart thumping in his chest and his hands trembling, he stepped out of the car. He didn't even bother to lock it behind him as he was already running up the stairs that led to your apartment.
He used his spare key, one he was immensely grateful you had given him. Not bothering to knock or to take his shoes off he barged into the place like a desperate man. He was a desperate man.
Desperate to see you fine, to find you healthy, for you to be alright.
But his world came crumbling down like a paper plane when he saw you laying over the grey carpet, your phone by your side. You weren't moving.
For a moment he couldn't move. The patterning of the rain against the window drowned him in an ocean of tears he was keeping inside his soul. The quietness of your flat wasn't normal, you were always humming to yourself, playing some music. Doing something.
But as he saw you laying there, limp and cold, Yoongi's heart shattered into a million pieces.
He was brought out of his trance by some miracle, he found himself at your side the next second. His hands wouldn't stop shaking as he pulled your shoulder to lay you flat against the floor.
"(y/n)?"
But you didn't react. It almost seemed as if you were sleeping. The rise and fall from your chest was the only indication to Yoongi that you had only fainted. The circumstances as to why were still unknown to him.
His hand cradled your cheek, trying to get a reaction out of you. Something. Anything at all. But you were long gone in the world of darkness.
In a mere second, he was able to recall your call with him. You sounded in pain. Hurt. There was something that had led to your current state. Something that needed medical attention.
His hands slipped under your body and he stood up; an arm beneath your shoulders and the other supporting the back of your knees. Yoongi walked towards his car in long and hurried steps. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. His stomach churned with nerves.
If you hadn't called him, how much time would have passed until someone eventually found you? He couldn't think of that possibility. He decided to focus on the now, on the fact that he had you in his arms, that he had found you, that you were going to be okay. You had to be. For his sanity.
The soft rain wasn't enough to drench you or him as he made his way towards his parked car. With as much care as he could muster and with some tricky manoeuvre he managed to sit you in the passenger's seat and strap you to it.
Your head lulled to the side and his hand, once more, found home against the side of your face. In any other situation Yoongi would have thought that you were merely sleeping. To a point you were.
Have you always been this beautiful?
He thought to himself before he shook himself out of those thoughts and walked around the car, getting into the driver's seat and speeding off to the hospital.
One hand was on the steering wheel while the other one clasped yours tightly. It was a way to ground himself. To ground his thoughts and remember that you were there, that you'd be fine. That you were with him.
If someone had asked Yoongi before today when he had been the most patient he'd have answered when he had to download one of his large files.
But now, now as he sat in the waiting room of the hospital waiting for news about you was the time when his patience got tested.
How he wished to just enter into the room where the doctor was checking you. He needed to know what was going on. What had happened to you.
He needed to know that everything was going to be fine.
In his desperation, he called one of his friends, Hoseok and explained the situation with a lump forming at the back of his throat.
"She'll be fine, Yoongi. She's a tough girl. I'm sure it's nothing serious but I'll be there in thirty minutes in case you need anything."
That was what Hoseok had said over the line. He had met you on a few occasions, more than a few to be honest. The sweet man came to know that you were a beautiful woman with a kind heart and he respected too much the friendship Yoongi had with you.
"Is anyone here for Lee (y/n)?"
A doctor said with a clipboard in his hands. Yoongi immediately got up. His legs carrying him to the man dressed in a white coat, his eyes were red with unshed tears.
"I brought her here. Please, is she alright?"
The doctor let out a sigh that made alarm bells ring in his head.
"You better come with me."
Yoongi swallowed yet the lump in his throat only got bigger and bigger with each passing second, with each step he took behind the doctor. He stopped in front of a door, presumably your room before he spoke, his tone professional with a hint of sorrow for the broken man in front of him.
"(y/n)'s condition worsened too much in the last week. I'm surprised how quickly it deteriorated. The tumour in her brain got to the amygdala, that was what caused her immense pain resulting in her to lose consciousness."
The tumour in her brain...
The tumour in her brain...
The tumour in her brain...
...what?
"What... what do you mean with "the tumour in her brain"? She... Is she-"
So many thoughts were racing through his mind too quickly he began to feel nauseous. You were sick? All this time you had been sick? Is this what you had been hiding? The doctor sighed yet again as he spoke once more, his voice sombre this time.
"I believe she never told you."
Yoongi shook his head. Too in shock to utter a word. He felt as if someone had stabbed him in the heart. He'd bet that a stab wound would hurt less than this. The sole thought of losing you was heartbreaking enough but he couldn't help but feel like shit when the argument he had on your flat repeated itself in his mind over and over and over again.
Like a broken record player.
In a mocking manner.
With sadistic intentions.
"I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Mr. Min."
A tear rolled down Yoongi's cheek slowly.
"Will she be alright?"
The world might as well end now because the younger man couldn't fathom the idea of existing. Not after the doctor's next words.
"I'm sorry. She was never a candidate for surgery, we detected the tumour too late. She isn't conscious right now but you might as well go in. I don't think she'd be able to hold on for much longer."
He hadn't expected that. He was supposed to be told you hadn't been taking your meals or you were dehydrated to the point in which you fainted. You weren't supposed to be dying. And what was worse was that he had never known.
For how long have you known of your condition?
Why did you hide it from him?
Why didn't you let him support you?
Yoongi entered your room without another word leaving his lip. He nearly collapsed at the sight of you. Pale and weak lying in a hospital bed. An IV tube was attached to your hand. Your eyes were closed.
He sat on the chair next to your bed. His trembling hands reached out for your smaller one. Why wouldn't his hands stop shaking?
"Why didn't you tell me, (y/n)?"
Those whispered words were meant for your ears only but they never reached you. You couldn't react to his stimuli even if you wanted to. your limp hand in his made tears cloud his vision and this time, he didn't hold them back.
"This was it, wasn't it? This was what you were hiding from me, right?"
He wished you'd just move, he wished you would open your eyes and gaze at him like all those times before. He wished he could hear your voice. At least one last time.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry for shouting at you that day. Y-you didn't deserve that."
If he could turn back time he'd make everything different.
"Please, (y/n/n). Please open your eyes."
If only he had been more observant.
"You cannot leave me now. Not now. Not like this."
If only he hadn't been so selfish and distanced himself from you.
"I cannot live without you, (y/n)."
If only he had been there.
"Please."
If only he had been a better friend. The best friend you deserved. The best friend you needed.
"Please don't leave me."
If only he had said the words when you could hear them. If only he hadn't taken your time for granted.
"I beg you, darling. Please don't go. Please."
Hoseok ran through the halls, the number of the room you were at was engraved in his mind for he knew Yoongi was by your side. His hand grabbed the door handle and he twisted it.
What Hoseok saw after opening that door was never going to leave his memories. A sight for his eyes to never forget.
Yoongi was grasping your hand so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes were red and puffy as tears leaked from his dark orbs, like endless rivers of absolute and utter pain. The sound of his sobs reached Hoseok's ears. A flat line in the background.
"S-she's... she's gone. She's g-gone, Hobi."
Hoseok could only watch in horror. Never in his life had he seen Min Yoongi look so broken. So empty. Never had he cried in such a way. The sight was painful enough that tears made their way to his own eyes.
Yoongi's sobs were like poisonous arrows dripping with the blood of his wounded heart. An irreparable wound. Shattered pieces of his very own soul.
Hoseok took slow steps toward his friend until he was able to rest a hand over his shoulder.
"She didn't suffer, Yoongi. You were by her side, you allowed her to go in peace."
But those words did little to console him. He couldn't stop thinking about the "what if's". He couldn't stop the blame to gnaw at his already broken heart.
"I-I never told her, Hobi. I was a coward and I... I never fucking told her."
Hoseok's heart clenched at the pain laced in his friend's words. His pale hand grabbed yours with more strength, if that was even possible. As if he could prevent you from leaving him when you were already gone.
"I never told her that I loved her!"
Hi Yoongs, I hope you are alright.
How's life going on for you?
If you are reading this letter it probably means I am no longer with you and I'm so sorry that I had to leave you behind but as you may already know, I had no choice.
This was what I had been hiding from you. I am sick. Terminal apparently. There's nothing to be done and I don't want any kind of painful treatment. I decided to let go and enjoy what I had of time.
Please don't blame yourself. I chose not to tell you so that I could experience my life as it was. Normally and by your side.
I may not be there physically but know that I live through your memories. Please don't give up on your dreams because of me and go and do all the things you talked to me about. Fulfil our wishes. Be happy.
I wish you the best.
Thank you for being my best friend. And it is probably the worst way of saying this but I want you to know that I love you. I love you in that way. As in more than a friend. You were the best person that ever crossed paths with me, I didn't want to ruin that friendship.
I now realise that was probably a mistake. I loved you deeply. With all my heart and being. That was why telling you about my condition was more painful than it should have been. Because just as your happiness is my happiness; your pain is also my pain.
I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want you to say things out of pity. I didn't want that. I wanted to leave in the most normal way I possibly could.
Please know that I love you and I wish you the best in life. I won't be your friend all your life, let alone your lover. I won't live that long. But I will treasure your friendship and love you all my life.
I am part of your life but you are my whole life.
~(y/n).
July/30/2023
~Masterlist
Likes, Comments and Reblogs are really appreciated!!!
LISA REQUESTS ARE OPEN AHHHH!!! I have been waiting for this moment!!
Could I pretty please request Steven Meeks (my beloved) with a female reader? The reader is a student at Welton who’s disguised herself and pretended to be a boy at her family’s request since Welton doesn’t accept girls but she was smart enough to get in and her family wanted her to have a good education. Since she’s friends with Neil and Charlie, she gets invited to be a part of the Dead Poets Society, and because of that she gets to know Meeks and gets closer to him, but she feels terrible about lying to him. So one night at a Dead Poets meeting, she stands up and admits to being a girl, and though she’s terrified about them reacting badly the other Dead Poets promise not to tell anyone because she’s their friend (except for Cameron, obvs, but the others kind of bully him into promising). And then afterwards she has a one-on-one conversation with Meeks where she tells him how she feels and he admits he feels the same (and maybe he even felt the same about her when he thought she was a boy but was scared to say anything) and it’s just really cute?
Of course, if you don’t wanna write this that’s totally cool!! Thanks in advance, and I hope you’re doing well, beloved!! <3
'the secrets that we keep' - steven meeks
masterlist
a/n: in the fic, b/n stands for boy name. since reader is pretending to be a boy, you need a boy name for Vibes and Plot
Although dutifully called on by schoolboys to change the age-old protocol, Welton Academy has never admitted a girl to their brilliant ranks. For reasons of religious purity, single-minded pursuit of study, and otherwise knowing how easily distracted teenage boys are by a pretty face, the doors of this bright school have shut in the face of willing and able female candidates for years. It is a long-standing rule, as familiar as not running in the halls or sneaking off campus to engage in underage drinking. Similarly, this rule is about to be ignored by yet another student, and this one is you.
Headmaster Nolan firmly intended to maintain this rule. Your parents wanted a good education for their daughter. Never before has such a violent clash rocked the hills of Vermont. Not in a while, at least. It took many, many heated arguments and a good deal of defensive letters, plus a promise to secure an internship at a nearby hospital for the son of Headmaster Nolan’s good friend, a certain Mr. Perry. Also, you would have to promise to keep the whole girl thing under wraps.
This may seem impossible, but they were the terms of your acceptance to the prestigious school, and you were willing to live by them. No doubt Headmaster Nolan would be watching you like a hawk for even the smallest of slip ups, but you don’t intend to give him even a second of victory over you. You’ll play according to his rules, and you’ll ace your classes at the same time. Wouldn’t it be funny if one of Welton’s brightest pupils was a girl?
These were the sorts of thoughts that helped tide you over the summer until your first day of school. When that inevitable day came around, though, you couldn’t help but feel paranoia wrap around your stomach with cold, digging claws. This whole idea seemed impossible. How could you possibly pretend to be a boy the whole time you were at the school? You could cut your hair short and deepen your voice, stomp around the halls and act as if you were just like the rest, but what a thing to do. Still, whenever you think about quitting, you think about the triumphant expression on the headmaster’s face, knowing he’d assigned you the one task he thought impossible. If you were going to do anything, you could at least prove him wrong.
With this mindset in place, you move your belongings into Welton. You’ve been given a single room, as the headmaster decided that having a roommate would only complicate things. Smart move there; it might be difficult to hide your evident lack of masculinity from someone who’d be with you around the clock.
There are plenty of singles in the Welton dorms, the students placed inside for various reasons. It’s nothing uncommon. Still, it does draw a fair amount of attention during move-in, as students pretend not to openly stare at you while you’re unpacking your luggage to see what kind of kid could manage to pull the lucky slot of a dorm room all to themselves.
One group of boys in particular seems keen on making your acquaintance, although their attention, unlike that of many of the other students coincidentally passing by your door, seems pleasant instead of demanding. Their apparent leader, Neil Perry, drops by to say hello. Always glad to see a new face, or so he’d claimed.
Neil was the first, quickly followed by his new roommate, Todd Anderson, plus Neil’s best friend, Charlie Dalton. An additional entourage of Gerard Pitts and Steven Meeks joined them soon enough, and a redheaded Richard Cameron followed up the tour, although judging by the not-so-subtle hostility in everyone’s glances his way, Cameron would be the least favored of the whole group.
At first, you’re terrified to have that much attention directed your way. Your goal was to skate under the radar, only making friends when you absolutely had to so you could both avoid detection and focus on your studies. Although it might make for a lonelier experience, staying undercover was far more important. Your parents were sacrificing a lot to keep you in Welton’s halls. You couldn’t afford to disappoint them by getting caught all because you started feeling alone.
However, none of the boys seem to notice that you’re not what you claim. They take up your explanation of having recently moved there readily enough, as it would explain why they’d never heard of your boy name before. You picked that one out earlier that month as if it were a new notebook or yet another school supply: B/N. It’ll be tricky to remember to respond to that name, but no trickier than any other part of this little scheme.
Besides, once classes start to kick up, all of you have far bigger fish to fry than unraveling the precise identities of the latest addition to the friend group. Soon, questions about where you grew up and how you managed to get yourself cast down to Hellton are replaced with frantic trig study sessions and grievous Latin complaints.
If there’s one class none of you seem to mind at all, though, it would be English. The other boys heard rumors that you’d be getting a new teacher, but none of them knew a thing about this Mr. Keating. The general consensus is that English this term would be no different from English at any other time of year; plenty of assigned readings, loads of essays required to be written under short durations, and all of the other joys that a required literature course often brings.
This, however, was not to be the case. From the moment Mr. Keating opened his mouth, all of you knew you’d be in for a treat. Some of you were less hesitant to embrace Mr. Keating into your hearts, namely Cameron, but the rest of you have been quick to appreciate what you have. For once, you’re having fun in class. Who could have an issue with that?
And, when Neil swoops by your seat and asks you if you’d be willing to engage in the first meeting of the new Dead Poets Society out in the woods that evening, you know that the impact your new teacher has on his students is far more drastic than even you’d envisioned. You agree readily, and the rest of your friends look pleased with themselves for managing to boost their numbers with such an agreeable fellow.
If there was one boy who looked the happiest that you’d be joining them after hours, you’d have to say that it was Steven Meeks. Although he may not be the loudest of the set, Steven has quickly been rising through the ranks in your mind. He’s been working on this radio set almost nonstop with Pitts, but every time Steven accomplishes even the smallest of achievements, he immediately has to put everything aside to rush to your side and tell you all about it. It’s wonderful to watch him, how his eyes light up as he talks, hands waving wildly in the air while he talks about receiving signals and communication potential.
You should know better than to get attached. There is a significant chance that your whole ruse will be revealed sooner rather than later, and you’ll be unceremoniously removed from Welton, never to speak to any of these boys again. Still, watching Steven’s ginger curls fall messily about his bright eyes, tracing the path of his hand absentmindedly combing back the strands so he can focus on repeating the information he’s just learned, you can’t help but wonder if maybe this one connection wouldn’t be so bad. Your friends wouldn’t turn you in.
Besides, cutting yourself off from Steven sort of feels like chopping off a limb. When the lot of you sneak out from the dorms that evening, running and howling through the forest, Steven stays by your side the entire time. Dry leaves crunch underfoot, and the moon hangs low and bright overhead. Your heart beats erratically from its cage in your ribs, and you wonder how you could ever have been afraid of something like this. This is living, you decide. You and Steven in the endless night, laughing like crazy, more free than you’ve ever been even as you live your greatest lie.
The first meeting of the Dead Poets Society is a wild success. You take turns reading off various stanzas and prose, alternating between oohing appreciatively at a particularly good turn of phrase and teasing each other wholeheartedly whenever someone provides the opportunity. Despite the jokes, the atmosphere in the cave is reverential, almost. Everyone believes in the strange spirit that’s bewitched all of you, the knowledge that what you’re doing here will make you gods of men. It’s entrancing and awe-inspiring and the first thing you ask the next morning is when all of you will be meeting up to do it again.
Charlie breaks into raucous laughter. “See, that’s the spirit we want! Even B/N here wants more. We’re high off poetry, imagine that.”
You scowl at him, even as the others laugh along. “What do you mean, even B/N? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Charlie rolls his eyes. “Nothing, honestly. Just that you didn’t seem all that inclined to hang out with us at the start of the semester, that’s all. We got worried you didn’t like us so much, but obviously that’s not so anymore.”
You arch a brow incredulously. “Of course I like you guys! Would I put up with Neil’s monologues if I didn’t? Or Cameron’s bullshit? Or all of you howling in a cave past midnight so we can pay homage to dead poets worldwide?”
Steven snorts, more at the disbelieving look on Cameron’s face than anything else. “Now that’s a vote of sympathy if you’ll ever get one. I, for one, never doubted you.”
Charlie scoffs loudly. “Of course you didn’t, Steven. Anyone who listens to you ramble on about the benefits of the modern radio as much as B/N would have to be your best friend. Honestly, I’m surprised that didn’t scare him off more than anything else.”
Steven’s face falls, and to cover up for it, you say quickly, “I don’t mind the radio talk. Honest. It’s interesting.”
“Sure it is,” Charlie says a little too loudly, “So’s the company. Anyway, B/N’s right. How about tomorrow night for another meeting? Bring your best limericks, I want to be entertained.”
Neil breaks into choking laughter. “Absolutely, your highness. All your jesters will do their best to make you crack a smile.”
“It’s an honor and a privilege, you know that,” Charlie defends himself.
As you watch the friend group devolve into cackling laughter, you can’t help but meet Steven’s eyes across the table. Instead of getting caught up in the mock argument between Charlie and Neil, he hasn’t lost focus on you for one instant. When he catches you looking, he smiles quietly and mouths, thank you. You smile back.
The meetings of the illustrious Dead Poets Society carry on for weeks. As they go, you realize that you’ve never had friends like these, and it feels as if you never will. They’re the best, brightest bunch of boys in the world. You trust them more than you do anyone else. Those sacred spaces in the caves off campus, baptized by moonlight and wild imagination, make you feel more like you than anything else.
Except, of course, for one secret that still hangs in your way.
You haven’t told anyone that you’re a girl. Your silence carries with it the weight of your studies at Welton. If you want to stay, no one can know. It’s as easy as that. Still, in the quiet, happy moments when the wild laughter fades and you’re left looking around at the faces of the boys who have become your brothers, you can’t help but wonder if maybe you could tell them after all. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they knew. Maybe they would even help you maintain your cover.
It would be nice to have a little bit of this burden off of your shoulders, after all. It feels as if every waking moment not spent studying is chained to making this lie work. Every time someone talks to you, you’re certain they’ve figured you out. This sort of paranoia is driving you mad, and being able to finally share the secret feels like a relief akin to offering a drink of water to a man dying of thirst.
The opportunity to share comes up sooner than you expected. At one of the Dead Poets Society’s meetings, Neil turns to you with a slight frown when they’re asking around for someone else to share a piece.
“B/N, do you want to go next? You’ve been quiet all meeting, I don’t want to speak over you accidentally.”
You shake your head a little too quickly. “No, no, I’m good. Just thinking.”
This, more than anything, attracts attention. Charlie grins, leaning over to you dramatically. “Thinking about what? World domination?”
You snort. “I’ll leave those plans to you, thanks.”
“Come on, B/N, talk to us,” Neil urges. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Your breath hitches in your throat. This is it, your chance. They’re all here, all willing to hear you out. If not now, then when?
“Alright,” you begin, “There is something I do need to say. I’ve, uh, been keeping a secret from you. A pretty big one.”
Charlie arches a brow. “A big secret? Let me guess, you’re secretly a teacher in disguise sent to keep an eye on us.”
This would usually elicit a laugh from you, but tonight you’re so worried about getting this right that you can’t even muster up a weak chuckle. “Not quite, Charlie. I’m–” The words dry up in your throat. How do you say this, after all this time?
The other boys stare at you expectantly. You’ve started now, you can’t back out anymore. “I’m a girl,” you say in a rush. “My parents wanted me to get a good education so they sent me to Welton. The headmaster really didn’t want to let me in, but he only allowed me to enroll if no one knew I was a girl. He said he didn’t want to mess with his pristine record of only letting boys inside or something. It’ll still show up on my college record that I went here, and he wouldn’t have to handle the difficulty of more girl students. I’ve been pretending to be a boy this whole time, but I’m not. I’m a girl.”
The words hang in the air. For once, the cave is absolutely silent. You can hear quiet breathing all around you, nothing more. Your eyes are fixed on the stone in front of you, resolutely refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. You’re certain that if you were to look up, you’d only see disgust or disbelief on their faces. This was their sacred space, and you’ve broken it to bits with your secret. You never should have told them. You never should have thought you could pull this off in the first place.
Just when you’re debating the merits of running for the dorms to get out of here, Charlie starts clapping loudly. You jerk up, expecting him to be mocking you, but instead his expression is celebratory. “Let’s go!” He says. “I’ve been waiting for a girl to go here forever. Of course Headmaster Nolan would be an asshole about it. Wow. Can you get more of your friends to enroll, too?”
You stare at him incredulously. “You’re not mad?”
Neil breaks in. “Why on earth would we be mad? That’s totally cool. You’re like a spy or something. We should write a poem about it. Maybe even a play.”
You can’t help but laugh at that. “It would be an honor to be your muse, Neil. But seriously, you’re all fine with it?”
“Of course we are,” Charlie assures you. “Jesus, have you really been worried about that? What were we going to do, kick you out? Your secret’s safe with us. We’re not rats.”
“We’re not?” Cameron chooses this moment to pipe up.
Immediately, he’s hit with death glares from every other boy in the cave. “No, we’re not,” Neil says firmly. “And if anyone even hints to an administrator or other student that B/N’s not a boy, they’ll get their ass kicked. Is that understood?”
Cameron nods, not meeting your eyes. Still, you have a feeling he’ll keep your secret.
Pitts raises a hand. “If you’re not a boy, is B/N your real name?”
“No,” you answer him. “I’m actually Y/N.”
“Sick name,” Charlie comments.
You swat him on the shoulder. “Shut up, Charlie.”
“Nuwanda,” he says in a dramatically injured tone.
Just like that, the tension is diffused. Once you’ve been assured a few more times that no one will say a word about your inherent lack of boyhood, the agenda turns back to poetry more. It’s like nothing even happened, except everything did. Your friends still support you. You feel more free than you could have even imagined, knowing that everything worked out.
On the way back to the dorms, you hang back a little, wanting to take in the events of the past hour by yourself. Steven notices and joins you.
“So,” he says quietly, “Y/N.”
“Y/N,” you affirm. “It’s not too weird, is it?”
“Trust me, it’s not,” Steven says. “This actually answers a lot of questions for me.”
You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”
It’s hard to tell in the darkness of night, but you swear his cheeks have started to heat up. “Well, I realized– or, I thought, really, I was sort of still deciding that for myself, I mean– Well, Y/N, I think I love you.”
Silence in the forest. “You love me?” You ask cautiously.
Steven scratches his head. “Yeah, I do. Hadn’t really admitted it to myself yet because I thought you were a boy. There was a lot of reflection going on. This makes a lot more sense, though.”
You can’t help it, but break into laughter. “I’m fascinated by that. What have the past few weeks been like for you?”
“Very confusing,” he answers. “Still a lot of questions left unanswered.”
“Like what?” You ask.
“Like if you like me,” he says quietly.
You smile again. “Well, I thought that one was obvious. I love you too.”
Steven stops walking completely. “Really?”
“Really,” you laugh. “Now come on, we have to get back to our dorms before an administrator notices we’re gone.”
Steven sighs dramatically. “The administrators are the last thing I want to talk about right now.”
You think your smile might never fade. “Me too. We’ve got plenty of time for that, though.”
Plenty of time indeed. The rest of this term, then on and on until both you and Steven can sum up perfectly what it feels like to be absolutely happy. For now, though, you think you’ll let the sensation of him taking your hand for the first time to lead you back through the forest do the explaining for you.
A/N: Different fandom but same styled headcanons :) Brahms rattles around in this dome of mine nearly everyday so he had to be next. Also, first time doing NSFW headcanons so the writing may seem awkward just bc it’s slightly uncomfortable to write lmao
SFW Headcanons:
> Brahms's Main Love Languages to give are: Physical Touch and Quality Time.
> Brahms is obviously very clingy and needy. You can find him to be attached at the hip with you at all times.
> It doesn’t need to even be something important but he’ll be hugging you, holding your hand. Something. ANYTHING. So long as he’s by your side.
> He’s simply happy to be beside you because you’re his favorite person in the whole world!
> Now, this is where his bratty behavior can come out. If you brush him off or not reciprocate his excitement, he’ll pout and whine that he should be given your attention.
> Brahms will match his schedule to yours to ensure that he spends as much time as possible with you! Occasionally he’ll stay up for later but normally he doesn’t want to miss out on any chance while you’re awake.
> Incredibly possessive over you and insists you never leave him. He has massive separation anxiety and is incredibly nervous when you ask to leave to do some chores.
> When you get back, better believe he is NOT letting go of you for a good while. “Please don’t leave me again! You can never do that again! Stay with me here! Please!”
> I 100% believe that any source of romantic interactions that he’s gotten is from romance books. He pictures himself as the knight in shining armor and will try and mimic things he’s read in books.
> Cue him trying to hype himself up to offer you a flower from the garden to which you’re wondering why you have several weeds in your hands now at 8:00AM.
> He definitely cannot cook or clean but seeing you do it will encourage him to want to help you out because he wants to be useful.
> He ended up burning his finger on the pan and cried at the pain for an hour and insisting he needed to be kissed better.
> He also watches you as you get ready for the day with pure admiration. His eyes sparkle while you do skincare, makeup, put on jewelry or do your hair.
> He then will ask if you can do the same to him. (Do his hair or skincare, etc.) Brahms will keep happily still and follow each instruction you give so he can look just as good as you do!
> It takes a long while before he ever considers pulling off his mask. Whenever he gets food from you, he immediately runs off to go eat it so you can’t see him without his mask on. If you help him bathe, he will firmly insist his mask stays on.
> After some time, if you ask again, he’ll hesitate but give a slight nod to encourage you to remove it.
> If you shower him in affection and praise at seeing his face, he’ll be wide-eyed and stunned asking if you really mean it then pull you into a bear hug.
> Brahms's Favorite Love Languages to receive are: Words of Affirmation and Acts of Service.
> Brahms obviously feels most loved when he's taken care of. His needs need to be tended to regularly or else he feels as though he's being ignored or has done something wrong to have deserved such treatment.
> Cooking for him, bathing him, brushing his hair, cleaning his mask, etc. are things he'll happily watch you do with pure love in his eyes.
> And obviously because of his childlike nature and insecurities, he needs to be complimented and reassured often.
> He'll get all giddy and excited accompanied by slight stimming when he's complimented. It's like you can tell when he's blushing under his mask just by how openly he reacts.
NSFW Headcanons:
> When you first arrive as a nanny to take care of Brahms and he begins developing his obsession with you, he’ll find it more comfortable to watch you while you sleep.
> He’ll start by just watching from inside the walls, then to being in the room, then to sitting at the bedside, then finally, he’ll work himself up to touching you.
> He keeps gentle to not wake you but he gets excited by the opportunity to be this close to you and touch at your soft belly and chest. He fears you waking up so he’ll only caress your body for a bit before slinking back into the walls.
> Definitely has several peepholes all across the manor to get off to you. He finds it difficult to keep quiet. You swear sometimes you could hear some breathing somewhere in the manor but you can’t place it.
> Occasionally, you’ll find your clothing missing. It would take a bit to notice since it’s one or two things but you take to notice your laundry seemed more full than you last saw it and your drawers can be messier than how you left it.
> Once you’re comfortable with the actual Brahms, he’ll straight up ask to have your clothing for… “personal reasons”.
> Firmly believe he has no idea how sex works. His parents, once he was an adult, gave him magazines to scroll through but that isn’t an instruction manual to do anything. So you need to teach him how most of it works and what feels good and also what aftercare is.
> To keep all his needs satisfied, he was gifted one of those dolls. Y’know? It’s a miracle he hasn’t broken the damn thing with how aggressive he can be.
> Remember those stolen clothing items? Guess what doll is dressed in them.
> The doll he has customized best he can to look like you and he’ll use it while dreaming and fantasizing what it would be like to use you the same way.
> I know he’s commonly accepted to be a pure sub but I think he’s a switch (sub-leaning). He does want to please and have someone take control which is why he’ll let you take the reins most of the time.
> But, get him worked up enough or he’s getting close? He’s changing positions quick and fucking you hard and fast without restraint.
> Like—Doggy style while his arms are wrapped around you to keep you in place as he desperately pounds into you.
> He enjoys hearing praise for when he’s doing well. His eyes will look up to yours for confirmation that he’s doing what you asked for.
> It’s pure praise for him. Bby boy cannot handle degradation because he’ll take it seriously and be put off. So obvious pet names like being considered your “good boy” or a slew of other sweet names like “baby”, “honey”, “sweetheart” or “love”.
> Brahms is the type to not last long or for the average time but have insane recharge speed. Like he can go five times a day until he’s crying from sensitivity.
> If he’s straight up frustrated, he does not hesitate to just bend you over the nearest surface, yank your clothing off and fucking you to oblivion. He struggles with restraint if you couldn’t tell.
> He’d enjoy doing that in every part of the house by the way. Just to be reminded anywhere that he’s at of what your body looks like.
> CLINGS onto you like never before once you guys are done and puddled in sweat. Aftercare consists of telling him how good he was while he worships your body and apologizes if he's hurt you or went too hard.
This is just filth, I'm sorry guys. Actually I'm not sorry, this is what y'all are here for. Enjoy!
Warnings: Somnophilia, oral f!receiving, creampie, 18+ minors dni
Brahms was pressed firmly against the wall, staring hard through the small peep hole he had created in the wall. His breathing was shallow as he palmed his aching cock through his pants, fighting back pitiful moans as he stared at your sleeping form.
Sometimes Brahms wondered if you knew he loved to peer through the walls of the old house and watch you sleep. Maybe that's why you were wearing nothing but a thin t-shirt and lacy panties. Laying on your stomach with one leg bent gave him the perfect view of your ass and a teasing glance at your pussy. Your sleeping form was practically begging him to come have his way with you. Brahms was desperate to touch you in the ways he often imagined, to explore your body and show you exactly who it belonged to.
Brahms had just started to undo his belt when you let out a soft moan in your sleep. Immediately, his eyes snapped back to the small hole in the wall to peer at you once more. His nails dug into the wood on the inside of the wall as he watched you hungrily. Through the wall he heard the sheets ruffle as you rolled onto your back.
"Mmmm, Brahms."
The way you moaned his name in your sleep was pornographic. Brahms could feel any restraint he had left crumble. It was obvious you were dreaming about him, just as desperate for him as he was for you. He had to have you.
As quietly as he could, Brahms snuck his way into your room, careful to not wake you. You hadn't stirred since you had moaned so prettily for him, so he was confident you were still sound asleep. At first he just stood over you, admiring you up close, but it didn't take long for his aching cock to remind him why he was in your room.
Carefully, he traced his hand up your thigh to the swell of your ass, testing the waters. His touch was feather light as to not wake you. However, when you didn't flinch he grew more confident. This time his hand trailed lightly up your side, sneaking up under your shirt. Ever so carefully, he bunched up the thin cotton until your breasts were exposed to him. Without the thin barrier to keep them warm, your nipples hardened and so did Brahms cock. He let out a small whimper at the sight of you being exposed to him, luckily you didn't wake.
Brahms fingers continued up your sides until he reached your breasts and he began gently tracing your hard nipples. Without any restraint left, he caved and took your hard nipple into his warm mouth. He traced the hard peak with his tongue and then began gently sucking as his hand began pinching at your other.
You let out a soft moan and Brahms froze, pulling away from you. He waited until you settled once more before he continued. This time he trailed his way down to your pussy, finger gently tracing your folds through the lacy material of your panties. He could feel that you were wet and that only fueled his arousal.
Trying his best to hold back his heavy breaths, he carefully moved your panties to the side to reveal your wet pussy to him. He gently pushed a finger between your folds, collecting some of the wetness there before carefully circling your clit.
Your legs parted more as you stirred and let out another soft moan, but still you continued to sleep. Brahms kept running a finger through your folds before slowly and gently easing a single finger into you. You were so wet it sunk inside of you easily and Brahms moaned as he felt your warm walls. He no longer cared if he woke you as he added another finger and began pumping them in and out of you rapidly. The wet sounds your pussy made around his fingers caused him to let out a desperate whimper.
This time your moan was louder and Brahms could feel you tense as you woke up to the sight of him between your legs. "Brahms," you moaned out, "what are you doing?"
"Please," he begged, "please let me y/n. I promise I'll make you feel good. I promise I'll be a good boy." His voice was shrill as he begged, and you weren't awake enough to decide whether this was right or wrong. Instead you simply gave into the pleasure and let Brahms continue what he was doing.
Soon enough his tongue joined his fingers and began circling your clit as his fingers continued to pump in and out of you. He moaned as he tasted your dripping pussy, eating you out like he was a starved man. Alternating between licking and sucking, Brahms abused your clit until he had you singing his name. Looking down at him, you realized his entire face was exposed to you. He glanced up and the two of you made eye contact as he savored your pussy.
"Am I doing a good job, y/n? Am I being a good boy?"
You let out a loud moan as you felt your climax building, your hips grinding down against Brahms' face. "Fuck! Yes, Brahmsy you're doing a good job. Such a good boy for me."
Brahms ministrations didn't stop even once you had finished. His tongue continued to suck at your overstimulated clit. Grabbing his hair, you had to practically pry him away from your pussy and he whimpered as you did. His hips thrust against the bed and you noticed he was still rock hard inside of his pants.
Guiding him on top of you, you pulled his face towards yours, kissing him roughly. He kissed you back eagerly, and you could taste your release on his tongue.
Reaching down you fumbled with his pants until you could pull them down. Grasping his already hard cock in his hand you smoked him a few times. The sounds Brahms let out were whiny and desperate as he rocked his hips into your hand, desperate for any sort of friction.
Pawing his pants further down, you grasped his thick cock and guided it to your entrance. Brahms' eager eyes met yours seeking approval.
Smiling, you nodded at him. "Go ahead. Fuck me."
Brahms could no longer contain himself and he quickly thrust himself all the way into you. The slight burn from the stretch had you clenching your eyes shut and hissing. He didn't wait for you to adjust to his long size. Instead, he moved one of your legs onto his shoulder so he could thrust deeper inside of you. Brahms practically growled as he rapidly slammed his cock in and out of your pussy. The sounds of your wet pussy taking him in filled the room and urged him on.
His hands were all over you touching you any part of you that he could reach. One moment he was squeezing your ass the next he was groping your boobs. Finally his thumb found your clit again as his hips began to stutter, letting you know he was close to cumming.
"Fuck, oh fuck," the word fell from his lips repeatedly, but this time his voice was deep and it urged you towards your second orgasm. You loved the way he moaned so desperate for you. Like you were the only one in the world that could make him feel like this.
His hips stilled with his cock deep inside you and you could feel the warmth of his cum as he filled you with it. Brahms fell against you, panting, as he waited for his cock to soften before pulling out of you. He wanted to stay inside of your warm walls forever.
Collapsing beside you, Brahms watched as you drifted back off to sleep quickly. He watched you sleep for awhile, fingering his cum back inside of you while you went back to dreaming.
A/N: This isn’t something anybody requested, but I’m really getting back into MHA, and I love Iida, so I’m gonna write about it anyway. <3
I don’t think Iida knew about age regression before he met you. But once you tell him about it, he researches more about it as soon as possible. He loves you and it sounded really important to you, so he wants to fully understand what it is.
After he’s done researching, if you don’t bring it back up for a while, he’ll just come up to you and ask you if you have a caregiver. When you say “no” he just asks “well, do you want me to be your caregiver?”
Just. Casually. Like it’s nothing.
And of course, you say yes.
It’s a learning process for both of you when you first regress around him. He immediately asks how old you are and you hold up 2 fingers.
You’re so little, he panics a little bit. But it’s fine! He learns what to do eventually.
He’s so gentle and kind. He’s LARGE and STRONG so he’s constantly worried about accidentally hurting you.
Buys you literally anything and everything you want. He’s rich, so he can afford it. He barely even looks at the price before he’s adding it to his cart.
If you ever feel guilty about it, he always assures you that it’s fine. He’s more than well off. He’s got more than enough money to handle it.
He’s VERY strict. You must got to bed by at least 10pm, wake up at 6am on school days, eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner every single day, and drink enough water. You also have to give him an update on your day at the end of every day. And you aren’t allowed to play until you’ve finished your homework. He always helps you, though!
He loves to call you “sweetheart”. I dunno why but I think he’d use this pet name A LOT.
Always holds your hand if you guys are going in public anywhere or really just outside of either of your rooms.
Like, he’ll be gripping your hand even if you guys are just going into the dorm common room.
The first time you gave him a picture you drew/colored, he almost fainted. He felt so special. He keeps it on his room in his wall.
Whenever he can’t take care of you, either Midoriya or Todoroki take care of you. You started calling them your uncles. Midoriya makes it clear that he really likes it and feels honored. Todoroki seems indifferent but secretly is very happy about it.
Sometimes they’ll all watch you at the same time. That’s always fun. Especially when you make them play with you.
You always manage to stay up past your bed time whenever they come over.
Midoriya is a sucker and when he watches you, it isn’t hard to get him to let you bend the rules a bit.
You can’t tell Tenya, though. BOTH of you will get a lecture and Midoriya might not be allowed to watch you for a while.
Tenya likes being called parental names a LOT. But, if you just wanna call him his name or a different name, that’s fine! It’s about you and your comfort!
He picks you up. A lot. Like I said, he’s super strong. He uses it to his advantage because he knows it makes you feel even smaller.
at the time of starting this,, i posted a whole short a few hours ago, but i can't sleep and it's getting frustrating, so here's some little whatever's so i don't go bonkers in my little corner <3
( in my experience, insomnia is very very frustrating and kinda makes me want to bash my head in and throw myself into the mediterranean, so i may or may not be slightly touching on those feelings here as well idkk )
bakugo :
tbh if you came knocking at his door in the small hours of the morning, he would probably seem a bit irritated ( dw he isn't he's just worried about you and doesn't know how to show it. and he might be just a little irritated, )
"the hell are you doing up this late?"
he'd lean against his doorframe as you explained - you'd been trying to sleep for hours, but you just couldn't get tired, couldn't get comfortable, couldn't keep your eyes closed. and it was just a bit maddening,
with a heavy sigh, he'd open up his door and step to the side ( a silent invitation into his dorm ).
bffr tho as soon as he closes that door, he's pulling you into a hug, rubbing your back, massaging your head and just holding you to his chest. he wouldn't say anything, just hold you, making sure to take deep, slow breaths.
eventually he would pull out of your arms and make his way back to his bed, rolling onto his back. at first you thought that was his way of telling you that you were done there, but after a second of you not moving, he would open his eyes and look over to you, motioning to his chest.
"are you coming or what?"
he would sleep as he usually did, with an arm behind his head, but tonight his free hand was around your waist, holding you close.
he wouldn't draw attention to it, but he would do his best to stay awake until you were out. he'd use his thumb or fingers to draw small patterns on your torso to try and lull you to sleep.
the more you came to his door at night, the less he asked.
eventually it got to the point of you coming in without knocking, and just crawling into bed with him. he never seemed to mind though. as soon as he was stirred, he would look around a bit, see you, and relax again, wrapping an arm around you.
he'd give you a half awake, "you okay?" just in case it was worse than usual, or if it had a more specific cause.
under the circumstance you said no, he would sit up so he wouldn't fall asleep and just listen to you talk until you were ready to pass out in his arms again <3
todoroki :
he understands sleeping problems, they probably plagued him in and out of his childhood.
the first time you had come knocking at his door, he was concerned. he would try to help, offer to make you tea or get you a blanket or melatonin or anything you could need.
but if it got to the point you were willing to wake him up, then you had already tried everything. dragging him into your waking nightmare was the last thing you wanted to do, really.
before he could finish his list of solutions, you had your arms wrapped around his waist and your body weight leaning against his.
"whoa, hon, hey..."
he would hold you up and support you immediately, kissing your head and lifting your chin to face him.
he would push some hair from your face and smile at you. maybe kiss the tip of your nose,
"don't worry love, i'll take care of you.."
he'd lie in bed with you, playing with your hair and just brushing his fingertips across your skin. he would probably lie awake just a bit, racking his brain over you.
he just wanted to help you, and knowing there was nothing more he could do than hold you and try his best to be comforting, it just didn't feel like enough. in perfect contrast, though, he couldn't help but know exactly how you felt.
when he was young and still shouldering his father's abuse alone, he had plenty of sleepless nights that nothing but the sunrise could put an end to. he was, at the very least, grateful he could be one thing he didn't have- warmth and comfort to reassure you that you weren't dealing with all this alone.
all his guilt dissipated when you were quietly breathing in his arms, fast asleep, a few minutes later.
in the future, on those especially rough nights that you found yourself at the door of his dorm, he would always be there for you.
he had begun to insist that you didn't need to keep knocking, and after some time you finally listened. some nights, you just went over before either of you first went to bed in the first place.
he didn't shift much in his sleep, but even when he did, he would always find a way to keep his hands on you. the physical contact seemed to be good for you and your insomnia, so he made it a point to offer that comfort, even when he was unconscious. <3
extra - he definitely started getting a second glass of water for his room at night, just for you
iida :
he did react poorly when you first came knocking on his door in the middle of the night, breaking curfew and the rules of being in each other's dorms past dark. (ESPECIALLY your partner's dorm). just know that it wasn't personal.
he was about to scold you in a whisper tone, but put a full stop to that the moment he noticed that you looked as though you were about to cry.
"uh- y/n? are you alright?"
his voice was gentle and concerned, his intense respect for the rules going out the window the second he saw you hurting. he would hold out a hand to carefully cup your jaw, his worry growing when you just closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.
"oh... come in, darling, tell me what's bothering you."
he would turn on whatever his softest light was and sit you down on his bed. he, of course, would take his desk chair and move it so he could sit across from you. after all, if he had no clue what made you so upset, he wouldn't want to risk making you uncomfortable as well.
as soon as you explained your troubles, he went straight into logical solutions. though his intentions were the most pure, his words were frustrating nonetheless.
"a nice cup of chamomile should do the trick!" "have you made sure you've been off your phone for at least an hour before you retire for the night?" "i've heard wonderful things about melato-"
"iida."
you didn't even want to give him a chance to finish that last thought. you thanked him for his efforts, you really did appreciate them, but you were insistent that this was a continuous issue that you've tried everything and them some to cure.
you explained the frustration of lying awake, tossing and turning, never quite comfortable and never quite tired enough. hour after hour of constant moving and shifting that feel like second and an eternity at the same time.
iida was a man of logic, but he was also a man with a heart. he understood frustration, feeling powerless and completely stuck.
so, where logical solutions had failed, he knew now what was left to do was just to comfort you and be there.
over the course of your relationship, you had shaken him a bit loose of being so uptight. especially when it came to pda and physical touch, and ESPECIALLY when it came to being 1 on 1 inside the dorms. despite all that, he would still normally put up some kind of protest as you tried to weasel your way into his lap before he gave up.
this time, however, he made no effort to stop you from curling up to him once he switched off the lights. he understood this is just where you were right now and what you were needing, and this is all he could do, and he was happy to break the rules for your sake.
so much so, that this became regular. he would leave his door unlocked for you to come in and snuggle up to him however you'd like, and he would wake up for long enough to adjust to you, hold you and ask if you were all right before you could both drift off.
any night without fail, he would do whatever he needed to to help you out, even though that definitely went against his intense respect of the ua dorm code. as long as aizawa never found out, he was free to care for his darling girl another night. <3
kirishima :
he's the kind of boyfriend who's like your built in best friend. except you can make out with him.
the first time you had trouble sleeping, you told him immediately the next morning.
"bro i had the worst time trying to sleep last night,"
and the next
"omg babe it happened again."
and kirishima is honestly the biggest sweetheart, he's just trying to be manly and be there for you, so it's safe to say he would have extended an invitation to his dorm by the third time you mentioned it. maybe even sooner.
we all know he's smart, but his first thought probably wouldn't be all the herbal remedies and healthy living practices that could solve your problem. he probably did some research on them when your issues first started, but the second you found out the didn't work, he dropped them to find some other fix. turns out, it was him.
you would knock at his door, just a bit nervous he would be upset even though he had offered beforehand.
he would know it was you, immediately, and answer all sleepy and half awake. rubbing his eyes, he'd lean against his doorframe and put an arm around your waist.
"hey, baby.. 's it happening again?"
you would just nod and he would lead you inside, his hand never leaving your lower back.
"is there anything i can do, or do you wanna just try and go to sleep?"
he would definitely make sure you were completely taken care of - if you needed a glass of water or wanted a snack, he would personally get you one from downstairs and insist that you don't worry your pretty little head and just get nice and cozy in his bed.
once he was positive you had everything you could possibly need, he would snuggle all close to you in any way.
he probably mostly sleeps on his back, with you lying on his chest. he'd have one hand on your back and the other in your hair, brushing through it gently or just massaging your scalp, just trying to help you relax.
sometimes he'd spoon you, just pressed to you with an arm draped over your waist, holding you close. on those nights, he would probably move your shirt up just a bit to be able to trace small circles on your skin. (his hands are warm too aww)
but no matter how you were lying together, he would always be whispering sweet little nothings to you.
extra lol -
there was one time when you said you wished you could get some fresh air, and he was ready to sneak out in 3 minutes. it was freezing outside, but he just said it was just more reason to keep an arm around you while you wandered the bright and colorful streets of musutafu past midnight.
(iida definitely caught you guys on your way back in, but he let it slide when you agreed to do the dishes for a few nights. (kirishima took most of that responsibility too lol <3) )
if anybody wants me to do this w/ different characters, my inbox is open ! it's also open for any other requests <33
my last few posts have pretty much all been some kind of hurt/comfort so i think i wanna do something more fun and cutesy or smth lol anyway
I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!
Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭
But any whosies.
I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)
Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.
You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.
I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼
Take your time! <3
pairing: han lue x racer!reader
words: 11.4k
warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one
notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.
trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.
anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!
i really really hope you like it!!
Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.
You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.
His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.
'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.
People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.
The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.
You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"
Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.
You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.
"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.
"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.
That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.
It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.
"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.
"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.
Han chuckles, "Not you too."
"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?
Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."
"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.
"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.
You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.
Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.
He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.
Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.
"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.
Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.
"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.
"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.
If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.
"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.
You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.
"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.
"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.
"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.
"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.
"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.
You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.
"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"
You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.
You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.
"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.
"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.
He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.
"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.
Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.
"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."
"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.
"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.
"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."
You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?
Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.
You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.
"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.
"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.
"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.
Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.
Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.
When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."
'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.
With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.
Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.
Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.
To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.
"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.
Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.
"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.
"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.
"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.
The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.
Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.
"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.
"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.
"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.
It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.
Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.
Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.
They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.
As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.
"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.
You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.
"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."
"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."
Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.
Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.
You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve.
Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.
With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.
The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.
The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.
Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.
"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.
"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.
"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you.
"You did," you nod, biting your lip.
Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.
"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.
Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.
It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.
Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.
You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.
Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.
"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.
Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."
A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.
Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.
Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.
You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.
It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.
He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.
The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.
Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.
As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.
Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.
"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.
"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.
Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.
His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.
"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.
"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.
Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.
Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.
"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.
"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.
"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.
"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.
Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.
You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.
"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.
"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.
Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"
"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.
"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.
"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.
"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.
Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"
A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.
"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.
"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.
"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.
"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.
"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.
"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.
"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.
"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.
"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.
Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.
You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.
"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.
"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.
A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.
Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."
"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.
"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.
You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.
"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.
"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.
"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.
The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.
"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.
"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."
"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.
"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."
Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.
"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."
"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.
"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.
"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"
"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.
Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."
Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.
Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."
You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.
Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.
You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.
"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.
"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.
"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.
"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.
Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"
Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.
You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.
"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.
"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.
There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.
Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.
Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.
Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."
"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.
"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.
"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.
"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.
Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.
His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.
It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.
A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.
You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.
You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.
"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.
"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.
"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.
He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.
You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.
Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.
Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.
"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.
"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.
"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.
The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though.
As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.
You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.
Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.
Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"
"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.
"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.
Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.
Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.
His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.
Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.
Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.
"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.
Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.
"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.
"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.
"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.
You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.
Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.
Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.
"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.
"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."
Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.
"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.
Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"
You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."
"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.
"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.
"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.
You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.
"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.
The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.
Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.
"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.
"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.
You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.
Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.
"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.
"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.
"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.
Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.
Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.
"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.
"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.
His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.
He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.
You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.
Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.
He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.
When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.
You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."
Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.
"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.
The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.
"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.
"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.
His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.
You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.
"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.
Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples.
"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."
Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.
You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.
Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.
"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.
You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.
His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.
After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.
You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white.
Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist.
"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.
You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.
"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other.
"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back.
"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.
Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.
'Such a tight pussy just for me.'
'Taking me so good, Angel.'
'Can't get enough of you.'
You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours.
Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.
The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him.
With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.
Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.
Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop."
"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."
Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.
Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.
"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you.
"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically.
Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.
Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.
" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.
Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.
Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"
"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier.
The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.
One Year and a Half Later...
You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.
"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.
Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.
"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.
It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.
"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"
There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.
"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.
"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.
"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.
With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds.
You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two.
As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.
You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.
"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.
"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.
The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.
The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.
"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.
"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder.
From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.
"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.
Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.
Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.
"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.
"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.
"You let me win," you then say assertively.
"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.
"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.
"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.
"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.
Fin.
thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!
this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!
this might come off as weird but you know which fictional cartoon couple has like THE MOST sexual tension I've ever seen??
And I don't mean in the "omg kiss already!!" way. I mean in the "these guys can't get off eachother, you just KNOW" way.
Scarlet and Herb Overkill.
Yep, the most iconic villain duo of the 70's in the Minions universe.
I know these two are married and they like have every right to have as much sexual and romantic vibes between them as they want. BUT STILL
They are literally obsessed over one another. I'd say Herb is more obsessed over Scarlet, but that's also kinda wrong since you can see Scarlet melt over how hot and cute her husband is. Even though they are both villains, they have the sexiest, most romantic relationship like ever??? I think that's a great detail, since it shows that some villains are not these heartless monsters without capability to feel anything. Vilains, even though evil and selfish, are also capable of having loving relationships!!
Which is also one of my favorite fictional tropes.
I'm so sorry for the rant, but I'm babysitting some kids for my friends and as every cool babysitter, i'm watching the minions with them.
-calm but he'll try to remain purely factual and even get away from you to take a breather since he feels like emotions complicate things. Especially negative ones
-he is an absolute nightmare in arguments when he does actually get emotional. He won't ever raise his voice at you but this man is one sarcastic bastard and will probably patronise or mock you
-Chishiya isn't afraid to admit he's wrong. He'll probably take some time alone and disappear into his office for a bit but he always returns with an apology and you better know it's heartfelt. He never says things he doesn't mean. Not to you
-He'd prefer having a long,calm discussion about the argument when you're ready. Maybe even some cuddling if he's up for it
-on hard times when his ego is really struggling to discuss what happened he'll start to cook you something.
"What're you doing?"
"Cooking"
"Why"
"Cause"
He'll never give a reason why but this small act of service is his way of making it up to you in ways that words can't
Niragi
-This man has trouble with his temper. Although he would physically do anything that would scare you, he does yell a lot and is prone to breaking things. Niragi is a loud person but he's even LOUDER in an argument
-It'll take him a while to finally process what you're trying to say, immediately having went into defence mode but once he understands he does listen and he will always try his best to take it seriously.
-After arguments you'll get a short "Sorry" Niragi believes actions speak louder than words. He'd usually hold you for as long as you'd allow. Kisses,hugs,cuddling. This man is even more affectionate after arguments. He'll usually listen and try to improve but expect a phone call or some kind of grand act just to show off to you how he's improved.
-That said if it was a fight about the dishes you'll get pictures of clean dishes packed away neatly for days on end. He doesn't mean it in a rude way. He just wants to show you he listened.
I know it’s been an agonizing month since I’ve announced the Niragi fic rec so here it is! <3
Warning!- There will be a section that contains smut fics so if you are uncomfy pls do not go over that area! (Especially those who are not mature enough to read)
These are the emojis that represent the genre: ( adding a new genre because it’s niragi >:| )
Dark - 🥀
Angst - 🌊
Fluff - 🍭
Series - 📚
Personal Fav - 🦢
^ - indicating same the author from above
I’ll be tagging the creators so give them the love they deserve! Thanks again for checking this blog out!
Strangelove 🌊🦢 - @syntheticfoxfire
You’re Everything You Once Hated 🌊🥀 - @sleeping-on-cracking-ice
call me by your name 🌊 - @sucx2bi
In Betweenin’ 🌊🥀🦢(?) - @littlewriterfullofwords
Hot Gum 🌊🍭(?) - ^
Bloody Comfort 🥀(?) - @keysmashingfantasies
Dangeruous Lovers 🍭 - @24hlevi
under the white light 🍭 - @jhynka
Irresponsibily Stupidly Losing You 🌊🥀🦢 - @sery-chan-13
Don’t Care 🌊🥀(?) - @girl8890
Antifragile 🌊🍭🦢 - @kkurades
Come Back Home 🌊 - @niragi-in-borderland
Other places, familiar faces 🌊 - @fireofjudgement
Every inch of you is perfect to me 🍭 - @bangtaninborderland
First Kiss 🌊🍭 - @planetariumwriting
I only play these games ‘cause you’re playing them, too. 📚🌊🍭 - @itsnamjoonssi
uncover 🌊🍭 - @prodbyblush
Love Is Chaos 📚🌊🍭 - @bts-story
WARNING: This section contains SMUT fics (those who are uncomfy avoid this section!) (tbh theres prob more smut fics than the PG rated fics lmao)
Niragi’s Favorite Toy 🥀🌊🍭🦢 - @niragis-thot
his. 🥀🌊🦢 - @kirisunshineboy
not so mr. nice guy 🥀(?) - @xy4n1d3
Blow. My. Brains. Out. 🦢 - @bangtaninborderland
The Pain Before 📚🥀🌊🍭🦢 - @niragisimp (my awesome moot ! ilysm <3)
only you 🥀(?) - @dracoscum
messy for me 🦢 - ^
Tease - @peachesnscream
OFF LIMITS 🍭(?) - @aliceinnaughtyland
Nasty Games 🥀🌊 - @kinkyniragi
Always you 🦢 - @so-many-fandoms-here
(another lovely moot mwah mwah ! 🫶)
paralysed 🥀🌊 - @niragiinborderland
CNC (kinktober) - @tofuxtea
NSFW Alphabet - @brdpch
Carnal Restraint 🌊 - @writeformesinpie
A helping hand 🌊🍭 - @overthinkingaddict
Maniac. 🥀 - @suhyoung-hoes
Headcanons 🍭(?) - @sweet-as-an-angel
Wanna Get Drunk and Nasty? - @nacho-privayuna
Sweet Distractions 🍭 - @fireofjudgement
Master/Pet dynamics - @munsonsvamp
Treasure 🥀(‼️) - @creamwh0re
note: i remember reading this one niragi fic where i think the reader is like new(?) or a doctor and then aguni brings niragi to readers room because he was like trapped in like a freezer (game) so she takes care of him I CANT FIND IT 😔
Warnings: Dirty talk, name-calling, short smut, Fem receiving, Niragi being Niragi. My silly ass decided to add some action to the words🥰
!NOT IN ORDER!
1. "Ahh, look at you. Already naked before I walked in, hm?" His mouth stretches into a wide, cocky grin
2. "That's what I like to see." His bottom lip went between his teeth, wrapping your hand around his length as he watched you intently. Jerking his hips forward, his pants rested under his knees.
3. "You know what I want, don't you? By the looks of it, I'm sure you do." He mumbles, dropping his rifle on the floor as he lazily strolled toward you, eyes hooded.
4. "Why so startled? You called me over, slut." A snicker escapes him, large hand grabbing a fist full of your hair, pulling you up to look at him.
5. "Keep that pretty mouth open, doll." He licked his lips, a shaky sigh falling from them as he slid in between your glossed lips
6. "You think I'm done with you?" He cackled, hand stroking the top of your head.
7. "Yeah? You like that, don't you? 'Love being treated like the slutty bitch you are, huh?" Heavy sighs leave his lips, cock firmly thrusting into you, roughly ramming against your spongy walls as the bed creaked under your bodies.
8. "Beg for it. C'mon, speak up." He looked down at you, crossing his arms with a raised brow
9. "Like what you see?" He tilted his head, smirking.
10. "Who said you could cum?" A sneer formed on his lips, charcoal eyes glaring up at you.
11. "Fuck--- just like that--.." He groaned, looking down at you with parted lips. His length fucked itself in and out of your mouth, hips swaying back and forth as the tip of his cock brushed against your throat.
12. "Who do you belong to? Tell me, bitch." He rushed with a grunt, pulling your hair as far as he could, making you uncomfortably arch your back to get a glance at your face; a completely fucked out complexion resting before his dark eyes.
13. "Awe, Look at her! poor little girl can't even speak 'cause Niragi fucked her dumb, hmmmm?" A short laugh escaped his lips, wide eyes attentively watching his cum gush out of your cunt.
14. "Oh, we asleep now?" He scoffed, harshly slapping your face a few times before huffing in annoyance, looking down at his twitching cock already slick with your wetness. His fingers moved a few stray hairs out of your face, gaze softening.
15. "Weak thing," His arms carried your limp, bruised body back to your bed, not caring if you had his cum on your belly or anywhere else; He didn't think of aftercare.
16. "I'll go find someone else I can finish off on." He walked out of your room, leaving your unconscious body resting on your small bed.
Summary : Han Seojun didn't expect to fall in love so fast, neither did he expect the blind girl he ran into the other day to be so cute.
Wordcount: 3k :)
[ Disclaimer; This is not an accurate description of being blind. ]
A shriek leaves your mouth as you're pulled backwards, falling right into the body of another person.
" Yah! You should watch where you're going! Didn't you see that car? " A (very pleasant) voice scolds you.
You hurriedly turn around, bowing deeply to whoever it is.
" I'm so sorry! " You tell them.
They sigh.
" Honestly, don't apologize to me. Just watch where you're going. " The person scoffed.
You 'look' back up again, hoping you're looking at their face.
" I'm sorry I'm-"
" You're blind. " The person says.
You nod.
" Yes, sorry to bother, I will be on my way again. " You bow again.
However, as you turn around, you're being held again by your wrist.
" Don't blind people have a cane? " They ask.
You can feel the colour rushing to your cheeks.
" Uhm, yeah. Mine broke last week. My family can't effort one for now. "
" So, they leave you to walk by yourself? "
" My mom's busy working. My older sister goes to college so she's generally just very busy- Don't worry though, I'll be okay. "
" Tell me your address. I'll lead you home. " They sigh.
" No way. I don't know you. You could be kidnapping me for all I know. " You exclaim, ripping your wrist out of his hold.
" My name's Han Seojun. I live on MadeUp street and I go to Seobom High. I'm currently 18 years old. " He introduces himself.
" Y'know, for all I know you could be lying. " You point out.
" Well, how would you get home otherwise? " He points out.
" I know the directions by heart. " You smile.
Han Seojun sighs as he's resting his head on the table. His mind keeps going back to that moment of yesterday night.
The girl might've been blind, but her dark eyes seemed to twinkle under the light of the lamppost yesterday night.
Truth to be told, he was scared something might happen to her. What family leaves a blind girl to fend for herself in the dark?
" Yah, Seojun-ah, you're not even listening to a word I've said! " His best friend, Chorong, complains suddenly, bringing him back to present.
" What? " Seojun huffs.
" Ohhhh, what were you thinking about, a girl? " Chorong teases.
" Maybe. " Seojun smirks.
At his answer, Lim Jukyung turns around curiously, yet for the first time in months, Seojun doesn't feel the need to have her attention on him.
-
" Hey! "
Just as hoped, you show again, this time a few hours earlier than before. He's glad he decided to take this route straight out of school.
" Oh, Seojun, is that you? " You ask him.
He smiles.
" Yeah, glad you remember me. I've come to walk you home again. "
He watches as your cheeks heat up.
" Oh, that's real sweet of you. You didn't have to though. " You smile, carefully walking over to him, running a hand over the building beside you.
Seeing your movement, he walks over most of the way, so you wouldn't have to walk all the way to him.
" I wanted to. I enjoyed our walk yesterday. " He tells you with a smile, one you can't see.
" That's nice to hear. I did too. How was your day? " You ask.
The two of you start walking, Seojun making sure to softly brush shoulders every now and then.
" It was alright. I hoped I'd see you again. How was yours? " He asks in return.
You smile sweetly at his words.
" It was okay. I really didn't expect to see you again though. "
And so the two of you walk, once again, all the way to your house. Seojun finds talking with you fun. You seem so soft spoken and delicate that he cannot help but feel a little smitten with you.
" Hey, hand me your phone. " He says, stopping you from entering your house's gate.
" What? " You ask.
" I'll put my contact info in. That way you can call me when you're done in school, I'll pick you up when I can and walk you home. " He explains.
You narrow your eyes at him. (You really aren't though, you're looking right beside him, but it's okay.)
" How would I know you won't be stealing it? "
He laughs.
" Don't worry, even if I did, you can find me at Seobom High. C'mon. " He says, holding his hand out, momentarily forgetting you can't see him.
He softly nudges your arm with his fingers.
" Hmm, hand me your phone, and I'll hand you mine. " You tell him.
He snorts, but does as asked. He takes your hand before smoothly placing his device in your hand. Once he's sure it won't fall out of your grip, he lets go. You take your phone out after a second, handing him an obviously outdated BlackBerry phone. As he puts his number in, the device speaks out every number he puts in.
Once done, he takes your empty hand, placing your phone in it. He softly takes his own back too.
" There goes. See you, hopefully, tomorrow, Y/N." Seojun grins as he pats your head before leaving.
A few months later
Seojun has grown a lot closer with you overtime. Eventually he learned that you come from a very poor family, which was why you didn't have a cane when you first met. A few days after, you thankfully did.
Now the two of you have gone into an easy routine of hanging out nearly everyday. The two of you rarely ever spend time at your place cause' there isn't much to do, but more often than not spend time at his. His mum loves you as if you're one of your own, and his sister has more or less become one of your closest friends as well.
Currently, the two of you are hanging out in his room.
" Y'know, tomorrow I have the day off. " You say whilst spinning around on his desk chair.
Seojun looks up from the 'homework' he's doing. (His phone is in his book.)
" Really? Nice. What're you planning on doing? I've still got school, but we can skip if you're up for something. " He tells you nonchalantly.
You give him an angry look, one he finds all too cute.
" No, skipping classes is bad Junnie. But we can make it later than usual. " You suggest.
He hums.
" Wanna sleep over? " He asks suddenly.
You blink.
" What? I haven't got any of my stuff with me. " You point out.
" That's fine. You can sleep in my clothes and I'm sure we have a spare toothbrush somewhere. My classes don't start until late in the morning anyway. "
" Hmm, let me ask my mom. "
And so it's settled. Tonight, you'll stay at Seojun's place.
" Alright, would you mind if we share my bed or would you like your own mattress? I'm sure we have an inflatable mattress somewhere. " He says, his own cheeks tinting pink at the idea of it.
Truth to be told, the closer the two of you've become, the more he's started to like you. So of course he hopes you'll share his bed.
" I mean, I don't mind sharing your bed if you don't either. " You tell him, your cheeks pink.
" Cool, want me to read to you in bed? " He asks.
" Yes please! "
And so you come back into Seojun's room a while later, a pair of his shorts and his shirts fitting your form. Truth to be told, you look adorable in it.
His cheeks flush as he looks at you.
" You look even better than I do in my clothes. " He grins, getting up from his bed to take you by hand.
A small 'eek' leaves your lips as he pulls you forward.
" Don't worry, I've got you. I'll be your eyes, Y/N." He says softly.
Once more, you start to feel the fluttering of butterflies in your tummy. The boy in front of you really managed to capture your heart in the short time you knew him.
" Okay. " You reply softly.
Just as promised, he leads you to his bed (which is only a few steps away.)
" You can sit down here. " He says, patting his bed as he touches your shoulder.
You carefully sit down, being mindful not to sit on the edge.
It takes a while, but eventually the two of you find a comfortable spot together, with Seojun laid on his front, holding a book in his hands, while you're curled up beside him.
Both of your hearts beat in sync as he reads to you, and you listen to the low hum of his voice.
You're grateful to have run into Seojun. He's sweet, comforting and considerate. He doesn't seem to judge you for weak even though you're blind.
It doesn't take long before Seojun realizes the soft breathing pattern he hears is actually you simply being asleep. He grins as he looks down on you, where your head slightly touches his elbow.
" Aish, this girl. I don't even like to read. " He quietly complains to himself, before glancing down at you again and smiling fondly.
He'll admit, you're cute.
Putting his book away, he turns off the small lamp besides his bed, before turning to lay on his side, facing you. He softly swipes a few stray hears from out of your face, before taking your hand in his.
That night the both of you sleep slightly more comfortable than usual.
-
You're currently stood in front of, what you guess to be, Seobom High. Seojun often goes out of his way to pick you up, so you figured you might as well do the same.
You assume your guess is correct, as you soon hear a lot of footsteps, accompanied by people (of who you guess to be your age) chatting away.
" Oh, are you lost? " Someone, a woman by the sound of it, approaches you.
" Oh, uhm, I don't think so. This is Seobom High right? " You ask, just to make sure.
" Yes, are you looking for someone here? Maybe I can help? " She asks.
" Uhm, no thank you. I don't want to be a bother. " You tell her, giving her a polite smile.
" Don't worry about it, it's quite alright. I'm Soojin by the way, who are you looking for? " She asks you kindly.
" Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N. I'm looking for-"
" Yah, Y/N, is that you? "
Just the man you're looking for.
Soojin watches with wide eyes as Han Seojun approaches the two of you, an actual smile on his face, instead of the rude smirk he usually wears.
" Seojunnie! Yes, it's me. I thought I might as well pick you up today. " You grin.
He smiles.
" That's sweet of you. C'mon, let's go. " Seojun says hurriedly suddenly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and turning you around, walking off without sparing Soojin a glance.
Meanwhile Seojun had spotted Suho from a distance. The male seemed nowhere near interested in what Seojun was doing, but Seojun didn't want to risk catching you between them.
" Oh! Bye Soojin! Thanks for being nice. " You hurriedly call over your his shoulder.
Soojin blinked as the two of you walked off.
" Is that, Han Seojun? With a girl? Since when does he have a girlfriend? " Sooah asks as she approaches her friend, causing Soojin to shrug.
" No idea. "
The next day, Seojun is approached by Jukyung.
" I heard you've found a girlfriend. I'm happy for you. " She smiles.
Seojun knows there's no ill intention behind her words. Her words are genuine, and he's glad she's happy for him.
" Thanks. I'll never let her meet your boyfriend though. " He says, leaning his head back onto his table.
" Yahh, Suho is nice, no need to be worried. "
-
Seojun is sitting at his desk this time, eyes on yours (although you're probably not aware of it), whilst you're sitting on his bed.
" I can feel your eyes on me y'know. Is something wrong? " You ask him, now turning to face him.
He blinks, not having expected that.
" For how long have you been blind? " He asks bluntly, suddenly.
You blink.
Seojun, seemingly realizing how rude that probably sounded, tries taking his words back.
" Sorry, if you don-"
" I'm born blind. "
" Oh. "
" Don't worry. It's okay. Besides, being blind also means I don't have to worry about my looks- I often hear my cousins stress over their appearance. "
Seojun studies you for a good moment, before eventually leaning over, his fingers brushing through your hair gently as he clears your face of a few loose strands. You jump once you feel his fingers, your heart beating just a bit faster than usual.
" You wouldn't need to worry about it anyway. You're beautiful Y/N." Seojun smiles.
You blush at his words.
" Uhm, thank you I think? - Can I see you? " You ask him suddenly.
He furrows his brows.
" What? "
" I'm good at drawing. If you're okay with me touching your face, I can show you what I see- with my hands at least. " You tell him.
" I mean, sure. I don't mind as long as it's you. " He grins.
You smile widely.
" Great! Do you have a pen and paper? "
And so he finds himself sitting still as your hands gently run over his face. It's a very odd feeling, but he doesn't mind it as he watches a sketch of himself come to life.
As time passes, his mouth slowly falls open at how accurate the drawing is. It's nearly like he's staring at a picture of himself, most of his minor skin details are even shown on the paper. The only thing that's missing are his eyes, that spot remains blank. That doesn't ruin the sketch though, instead giving him a more angelic look, if he may think so himself.
" Woah. That's amazing Y/N. " He smiles as he's done.
" Thank you. You're quite handsome. "
" Of course I am, what did you expect? That I'd be bad looking? " He teases you.
You shrug.
" I don't know many people their looks, nor what most would consider pretty, but I always though you'd be , less good looking? I don't know, I'm visually not very creative. "
Seojun has not heard his heart beat quite that loud in a long time.
-
Seojun knows he's got a crush on you, and the more the two of you hang out, the stronger his feelings grow. After a bit of thinking, he decides that today is the day. Now is the time to ask you out.
He impatiently waits until the last bell rings, leaving the classroom before most have packed their bags. On his way to picking you up, he picks up some flowers. He's careful that they don't sting, and that they smell good.
After a while, he finds himself standing in front of your school. After doing some small research, he realized that your school is actually pretty close by. It's a little further from his house, but he'll spare those ten minutes.
It doesn't take long before you come out, and he's quick to approach you.
" Y/N! " Seojun greets you with a big smile.
" Hey Seojun, you sound happy. Did something good happen today? " You smile at him.
" I'm about to find out actually. You see, I like you Y/N. A lot. " He tells you bluntly, straight out with his feels.
He watches as your eyes widen, and the scared feeling of rejection is quick to creep up on him. But before he can doubt himself too much, a big smile breaks out.
" Really?! I like you too! I though that my crush was just one sided! " You say, jumping up and down before engulfing him in a big hug.
Seojun grins, receiving your hug with one arm, the other still holding the flowers.
" Definitely not. You run through my mind all day, Y/N." He says softly into your hair.
" Oh, also, I got you this. " He says as he pulls away.
" Is that what I've been smelling? " You ask, as he guides your free hand to the flowers.
" I hope so. " He blushes.
" They smell great! "
" Glad you like them. "
" Thank you Seojunnie. " You smile softly, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
The moment your lips touch his cheek, his heart skips a beat.
Yeah, he's got it bad for you.
[ A/N: My first try on a Seojun fic :D. I feel like I haven't exactly nailed down his personality yet, but at least I've made a start :], let me know what you think! Also, I'm open to Han Seojun/Lee Suho requests. ]
Summary: Someone makes you cry and Niragi finds you, and your attacker.
Warnings: Violence - Hints of anxiety - Niragi being himself - Mentions of blood/guns/ - Reader gets attacked but not in a sexual way - +18 - MDI
Being in the Borderlands was terrible, however having a big, tall and intimidating boyfriend does help to make things easier.
No one dares to look at you, they move when you walk down by them, too scared, not of you. Your boyfriend carries a reputation in the Beach one that makes everyone tremble.
You have seen him, being a completly monster but you also have seen his soft side. The one thats only for you and shared in the safety of his room.
Newbies were usually a problem, some would follow the rules but being around lots of people again would usually lead to fights.
And this time one newbie had the biggest idea to make you their target. You are not sure what happened, one moment you are at peace having a soft drink the loud music in the background. Next thing you are shoved against the bar, starled to respond as someone begins to shake you. Someone takes them away.
"Dont you know who her boyfriend is? He will kill you!" The loud whisper could be hear as the music lies down.
You were never proud to be someone who cries over little things, specially in the Borderlands where you needed to be strong. The lots of pair of eyes looking at you are not helping, you soon find yourself in the bathroom. Down on the floor, hugging your legs as tears go down your face.
"(Y/N)!!" Niragi's voice its outside the door and then it blasts Open revealing a very agitaged and anxious Man.
You wonder who told him what happened, but things travel fast at the Beach.
"Who did this?" He asks kneeling besides you and pulling your face close to his, removing your tears. You can see the anger in his eyes but also the worry and love he has for you.
"Some newbie...I think they were drunk" You know what will happen to them if you say they were fully sober. However, Niragi does not buy it. He nods but you know he is already thinking who may have been.
"Lets get you out of here, are you hurt anywhere?" When you say no with your head he nods again, he takes your hand and guides you out from the bathroom and bar, no one makes a comment when they see both of you pass.
Once in his room Niragi gives you one of his shirts for you to change, he ropes you like a baby kissing your head.
"Rest, im going to take a walk"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Im sorry!! I did not know she was yours" They scream with a bloody nose and broken fingers. The others who support Niragi and are fans of violence watch in amuzment.
"Oh, you did not know?" Niragi asks pulling his riffle under the chin of your attacker. "But now you do, and you know what?"
He forces the weapon harder against their skin. "No one touches whats mine"
One shot fills up the night, the body falls and Niragi stands up. He looks back seeing the others on their way to move the body.
"I need to return to her now" Its his last tought, he does not care if this has consequences for him later, as he said, no one can mess with you and believe they will be alive next.
