#Weak Hero Class

[riprenn]

[flwrfields]

THE ONLY EXCEPTION — PARAMORE • Y.SE

summary: si-eun never really liked physical touch, not until you came. as your friendship grew, he found you becoming his only exception.

a/n: heh, i'm getting active!!! this idea popped up when i was trying to sleep and i immediately put it in my notes so i wouldn't forget it LMFAO!!! and notice how i put the images in the correct order of si-eun getting run over??? heh.. heh. also, this fic's idea is inspired by paramore's song name "the only exception", so i suggest if you listen to it while reading!!

warnings: clingy reader, softie si-eun, mutual feelings, si-eun is definitely whipped for you, absolute FLUFF, lowercase intended, set in class 2 w/c: 1092

yeon si-eun, this guy never liked it when people touched him or be overly touchy. that was before you appeared into his life. at first, he found you absolutely annoying. he always found himself in situations where you're clinging onto him like your life depends on it. he hated how much you linked arms with him, how much you rested your head on his shoulder like a pillow, how much you held his hand, how much you hugged him... there's a lot of things that irritated him. one time, you ran towards him during lunch, all while yelling his name, "si-eun-ah!" the worst part is, all of his friends are sitting right next to him, probably laughing their asses off because he had to deal with your clinginess. they didn't laugh because they were mocking you, they would never! they laughed because they think it's funny how you're clinging onto si-eun, out of all people. you sat next to him, noticing how everyone is laughing and giggling. you tilt your head, wondering why. "did i miss something?" you ask, curiosity filled your voice. you receive shakes of heads, still hearing laughter. "no, no, we're laughing at si-eun!" baku says, pointing right at the guy, who seems miserable. but, you knew that miserable look of his would fade... you were sure of it. and you were right. as time went on, he warmed up to you. when you cling onto him, he can't bring himself to pull away. he stayed there. he let you be as close as you want. he's allowing you to invade his space, as if you successfully broke down the walls you've been trying to break through. and that's exactly what happened. you made him go soft, and surprisingly, he doesn't mind it. in fact, he moves closer to you when you hold him. he does all of this without any hesitation, no reluctance. he doesn't do it because he's forcing himself to — he's doing it because he wants to. he's letting you into his space. his safe space. he's never let anyone in before, and it's clear. but, hey, at least you're welcomed in.

months go by, you're still your clingy self. si-eun is completely warmed up to your clinginess. though, there's something different. he's being cautious. you're aware that si-eun gives you short responses. but now, his responses feel like there's another hint of emotion that you can't figure out. you never comment on it. to be completely honest, si-eun isn't sure when he exactly started feeling things for you. it was just a random friday — you, jun-tae, baku, gotak, and him. the five of you were out, standing on a basketball court. all you could hear is chattering, yelling, sneakers, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor... it was a chaotic mess. you were playing basketball with the boys, protesting about how all of your height differences weren't making the game fair. all you got was teasing and laughing, making you roll your eyes without any actual annoyance. si-eun watched you from afar, feeling the corners of his lip twitch. then, you groaned and exclaimed, "i'm taking a break! you guys continue." as you walk towards where si-eun was sitting. you sit down, letting out a breath. "you sure you don't wanna join them?" you ask, your gaze focused on the three playing. si-eun hums in response, shaking his head. "no." you nod, not wanting to force him. suddenly, you lean your head on his shoulder. it's a normal thing for you to do, he should be used to it, right? well, no. si-eun felt his breath hitch. his heart raced, beating faster than usual. he froze, shoulders tense. you were too tired to notice, but he was noticing everything, every detail. he noticed your breathing on his shoulder, strands of your hair brushing against his neck, the way you bumped your knee against his — he isn't taking this very well. eventually, you noticed. you lift your head from his shoulder to look at him, seeing that the tips of his ears were pink, his eyes looking everywhere but you. you giggle, nudging his arm with your shoulder. "you're blushing." you mumble, teasing him. he turns his head away, making you giggle even more. you were about to say something else, but gotak interrupted you. "yah, lovebirds! come over here and play!" gotak yells, grabbing both of your attention. jun-tae smiles, nodding in agreement. you sigh and stand up, grabbing si-eun's hand in the process. "come on, they'll keep bothering us if we don't go." you softly say, tugging him onto his feet. he stands up with your assistance, his flushed face becoming worse after he processes the word "lovebirds". you don't comment on it, knowing that you're fully blushing as well. when you two arrive on the court, you're both a blushing mess.

currently, you're in si-eun's house, sitting on his bed as you eat some food you grabbed from his fridge. he's by his desk, studying per usual. his focus is on his notebooks, but it quickly shifts onto you when you speak up. "hey, si-eun? i gotta ask, do you like me?" he freezes, not expecting the question. "uh, no. why do you ask?" he replies, lying. "i don't know, i just feel like you like someone! you're acting all weird and stuff." "weird, how?" "you've been staring at me a lot. you blush when i do things i've been doing for months. you answer less. and i also heard from jun-tae that you stare at me with some type of way... like you're in love with me or something." si-eun sighs, hearing your explanation. he knows he can't hide anymore, he has to say it, he has to admit it. it's been months, it's now or never. "maybe i do like you." you blink, looking up from your food. your eyes widen, your cheeks flushing. you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. you look down at your lap, smiling to yourself. "well, i'm glad to hear that." you whisper, glancing back to si-eun. he smiles at you, an actual smile. you've never seen si-eun smile like this before, and now that you're finally seeing it... god, he's so pretty. the silence drags longer than expected. it isn't an awkward type of silence — it's a comfortable one. you didn't say it exactly, but si-eun knows that you feel the same way as he does. and he knows that you'll still be his only exception.

© flwrfields

[cesowi]

husbands™️

[neilissevered]

Hiii! Can i req a drabble for Baku again? Maybe fluffy and comforting Baku wherein he finds reader drunk (But reader doesn’t drink so it’s unusual for reader to be that way), and he just takes care of the reader?

Yk those ones who pull up their hair when they throw up, etc. U can experiment on this one I really don’t mind but that’s the gist of it!

- Anon 🧃 (I’ll send in as this one! I’m the one who first requested for Baku ❤️)

ˋ°•*⁀➷DRUNK ON YOU!

You got drunk for the first time. Hu-Min found you, stopped you from puking in a bush, carried you like a bride, and crashed on your couch like a man with morals. Drabble, whc2, reader has long hair, accidental confession, soft and flustered Hu-min Park Hu-min (Baku) x gn! reader wc: 1k+ tw: mentions of vomiting, but it's not descriptive. masterlist

The alcohol hits harder than expected.

You can tell… but at the same time, you can’t.

The world spins lazily around you, like it’s floating just out of reach. Your body feels weightless, but your head is filled with cotton, and your ears are ringing with a dull buzz. The shot glass in your hand is warm, slick, almost melting in your grip.

You don’t drink. Everyone knows that. You know that.

And yet, here you are—slumped against the back wall of a convenience store, half-hidden behind a row of boxes, nursing your second (or was it third?) bottle of soju like it’s a lifeline.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You had other plans tonight—study a little, rest your brain, maybe even sleep early. But the week had chewed you up and spit you out, and with exams looming over your head like storm clouds, you cracked.

A bottle won’t kill me, you had thought.

Just this once.

You’d read the posts online. Those who said alcohol numbs the stress, softens the edges of a bad day, and makes things quieter, if only for a little while.

They weren’t wrong.

You feel… floaty. Unanchored. Like you’re laughing at nothing in particular—maybe at the absurdity of it all. Maybe just because it’s easier than crying.

Your phone buzzes again. For the fourth time in the last five minutes.

It's the group chat with the boys.

Bakutastic🏀: "seriously dumbass WHERE are u??" Si-genius: "you okay?" GoTank: "if you don’t reply, I’m tracking your phone. Not joking." JUNNIE💕💗🐰🐰🐰: "So…Baku ran off😭😭"

You stare at the screen, lips tugging into a crooked smile.

Always so worrisome, those three. Like they weren’t getting into fights every day.

You don’t reply. Not yet.

Right now, you just want to stay in this haze a little longer, where nothing matters, and everything feels far, far away.

Then suddenly—

A hand wrapped gently around your arm, pulling you out of the hazy fog you’d been drifting in. Before you could even process it, you were moving—

No… falling.

Straight into someone’s arms.

Warm. Steady. Familiar.

Hu-min.

He held you tightly, like he’d been holding his breath the whole time and could finally exhale. You felt the rise and fall of his chest, still a little frantic, like he’d been running. And he had searched every convenience store he knew you liked, desperate to find you.

And now he had.

He pulled back just enough to see your face, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. His thumbs brushed gently against your skin, tapping lightly as if trying to wake you from a dream.

“Hey,” he murmured, worry tightening his voice, “you should’ve called me if you were planning to get drunk.”

A soft scolding, but his touch never left your face.

Then, with a small, helpless huff, he pinched your already flushed cheeks.

“Idiot,” he added, quieter this time. “What if I hadn’t found you?” His voice was a lot softer than usual.

You only hummed out in response. Smiling lazily up at Hu-min as your vision came in waves. He looked funny. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his waist as you grinned up at him

“Join me, Hu-min.”

“Are you seriously trying to ask me out right now?”

“They say it’s best to share soju with a lover!”

“You—“

Hu-min looked away. Face turning red at your very sudden, bold attitude. Your words were slurred, and you hiccuped with each syllable, but the way you were grinning up at him like a lovesick fool made your intentions pretty clear.

You just confessed. Accidentally…

“Okay, you’re completely drunk, and I’m teasing you about this in the morning.” He huffed, fixing your messy hair and your jacket that was slipping off one shoulder. 

You only laughed, almost falling further, but Hu-min already had an arm wrapped around your waist. Supporting your body with his while he walked back to your place.

Soju definitely worked with escaping your academics

Your relationship with Hu-min will, however, turn very interesting in the morning.

Hu-Min managed to get you home with surprisingly little trouble, which was impressive, considering you were leaning your entire weight against him like your legs had given up for the night. He tried to match your unsteady footsteps, but it was a lost cause. You kept wobbling unpredictably, veering into his side like a very affectionate shopping cart with one broken wheel.

Still, he held on, one arm locked tightly around your waist, the other hovering protectively in case you decided to face-plant into the sidewalk.

It was a quiet night. Just the crunch of gravel under your shoes, the soft buzz of faraway streetlights, and your off-key humming something vaguely familiar, possibly the theme song of a children’s show.

He should’ve been annoyed. Embarrassed, even. But all he could think about was the words you slurred earlier:

“They say it’s best to share soju with a lover!”

His ears were still burning.

Then—

“Hu-min. Hu-min.”

He blinked out of his thoughts. “Hm?”

“I think I need to vomit.”

“What.”

He came to a dead stop. Your apartment building was literally right there, glowing like a finish line in some twisted, drunken marathon — and you were about to throw up next to a shrub like a tragic K-drama extra?

“Hey—HEY! Keep your mouth shut!” he shouted, nearly tripping over his own feet as he scrambled to stop you from bending over the nearest bush. “Don’t even look at that hedge!”

You groaned. “But I’m dying.”

“No, you’re not! You’re just dramatic and full of bad decisions!”

You slumped harder into him, breathing through your mouth like a medieval damsel. He muttered a string of curse words under his breath, then looked up at the second-floor balcony of your building.

The elevator was out. Of course.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he hissed to himself. Then, louder:

“Okay. This is happening.”

With a grunt, Hu-Min bent down, swept your legs up, and lifted you bridal-style into his arms. You yelped in surprise, then immediately wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Oh my god,” you giggled, voice muffled against his collarbone. “Are you finally sweeping me off my feet?”

“Shut up,” he huffed, already halfway up the stairs. “You’re literally seconds away from puking, and I’m saving your dignity. Barely.”

Your head lolled against his shoulder, but you looked up at him with that same dazed, lovestruck smile from earlier—the one that made his heart beat a little too fast.

“…You’re strong,” you murmured.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You smell nice.”

“Do NOT throw up on me.”

He made it to your apartment door in record time, panting and slightly red-faced—though whether it was from physical exertion or your constant drunk compliments, even he wasn’t sure.

When he finally set you down, gently leaning you against the wall to unlock your door, you sighed dreamily and said, “This is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He snorted.

“Then your standards are tragically low.”

Finally, after some fumbling with your bag and a lot of muttering under his breath about why you carried five pens but no water, Hu-Min managed to fish out your keys. He nudged the door open with his shoulder and kicked it shut behind him, heading straight for the bathroom like a man on a mission.

He gently set you down by the sink, supporting your body with one hand while reaching for a towel with the other. Then, without a word, he grabbed your toothbrush, ran it under water, and squirted on your toothpaste like it was part of some practiced emergency routine.

You groaned and leaned forward, and he was already there, brushing your hair back from your face, gathering it in his hand like it was second nature. He held it gently but firmly, thumb stroking the back of your neck with a feather-light touch you were almost too drunk to notice.

“There,” he said softly, crouching a little to meet your eyes. “You’ll feel more sober once you rinse off.”

You blinked at him, swaying slightly as you stared at his face, all soft lines and furrowed brows and the kind of worry that couldn’t be faked. Before you could say anything else, though, you vomited into the sink, and Hu-min waited patiently for you to finish.

“You okay?”

“You’re reallyyyy good at this,” you mumbled, eyes half-lidded.

“At holding your hair while you puke?” he laughed 

You nodded slowly. “Mm-hmm. Husband material.”

He froze for half a second, toothbrush still in his hand. Then:

“Brush your teeth before you say stuff like that.”

But even as he said it, his ears turned pink again. It’s ridiculous how soft he gets with you. His voice turns down a notch, and instead of his loud and boisterous attitude, he can’t help but feel calmer and relaxed around you.

Hu-min stayed the entire time. He helped you brush your teeth and wash your face. 

“C’mon, your highness,” he grumbled as he gently steered you out of the bathroom, one hand on your back. “We’ll talk in the morning, when you’re more sane, okay?”

You dropped onto the mattress like a sack of potatoes, face-first. “You’re my favorite person.”

“That’s the soju talking.”

“Nooo,” you mumbled, voice muffled by your pillow. “The soju would never lie to you.”

Hu-min laughed under his breath, but it came out more fond than amused. He pulled the blanket up over your shoulders and gently tugged your tangled hair out from under your face.

Just as he stood to leave, you cracked one eye open and reached out lazily, catching the hem of his shirt.

“…Stay?”

He froze.

A beat passed.

“…No,” he said, more gently than expected. “You’re barely sober, I'll stay at your couch." He bent down, carefully swiping away stray strands of hair from your face.

You pouted. “But my bed’s cold.”

“I’ll turn up your heater dumbass” he laughed, prying your fingers off with great care.

You flopped back dramatically, already halfway to sleep again. “You’re no fun…”

“Righttt…” he muttered, walking out, “that’s definitely the problem tonight.”

He grabbed a spare blanket from your cabinet and made his way to your couch, shaking his head to himself as he lay down, arms behind his head.

Silence filled the room, broken only by your soft breathing.

Then— “…Hu-min?”

He groaned. “Yes, your highness?”

“…Don’t forget to dream about me.”

He stared at the ceiling. Then covered his face with the blanket.

“You’re so annoying.”

But under that blanket, he was smiling like an idiot.

an: Hello again, anon! I'm sooo sorry this took a while to post! Got a bit busy! But anyway, I feel like this scenario would also apply to a platonic relationship with Hu-min! (minus the romantic stuff, ofc) He's a really caring person and would definitely want to make sure his friends are okay when black out drunk.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

THEM. Just them. I'll be here for a while.

[slaybinnie]

HUMIN SMUTT PLEASE 🙏

PROBATION

ׂ╰┈➤ Humin (baku) x fem!reader

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, KINDA CRACK FIC, reader has boobs, humin has a boob obsession (lolz), dw I don't mention the size.

about: Humin usually seeks comfort in touching y/n’s chest.. privately. But when he crosses the line in public, he’s but on restriction. Oh the horror! How long can Humin last his boob probation? (lol)

note: WHO DOUBTED MEEE?? I ended up finishing this fic and it kicked my ass lolzers but it was so fun to write. thanks anon for requesting ILY. MUAH

WORD COUNT: 5k <3

Okay you admit it, this was partially your fault. The first time Humin had ever put his hands in your shirt was by your suggestion. 

It was a cold day and you were both curled up on your couch watching some random drama he had put on. You'd noticed Baku rubbing his hands together periodically with that adorable frustrated expression he got when he was annoyed. 

You reached over to touch his hands and they were freezing, “Your hands are so cold.” 

“Well yeah, the heating in my house is so bad,” he grumbled, even though you both knew he just ran cold naturally.

Without really thinking about it, you grabbed his hands and guided them under your oversized sweater, pressing his palms against your warm stomach. “Better?”

Humin grinned and nodded, “Much better!” His thumbs traced small circles on your skin, and you tried to ignore the way it made your heart skip.

That innocent moment had somehow evolved into... this. Since then Humin's hands seemed to have claimed permanent residence under your shirts, hoodies, and sweaters. What had started as a simple solution to his cold hands had become his go-to comfort method.

What had started as something innocent had slowly become something much more intimate as time went on. You weren't even sure when it had shifted but soon enough, Humin had discovered that your chest was the perfect temperature for warming up his hands. Your stomach was no longer an option for him. 

You'd be lying on the couch together, his head on your shoulder while you scrolled through your phone, and his hands would automatically find their way under your shirt to cup your breasts. It wouldn’t always be in a sexual way, though you were very affected sometimes, but just for comfort. 

“Mmm, you're so warm here,” Baku would say, sleepily, his thumbs brushing over your nipples unconsciously. 

Sometimes he'd even massage them gently while you watched TV or he'd trace patterns on your skin, and also play with the lace of your bra until you were squirming beside him. He seemed to find some kind of peace in the action which was fine by you. But Humin had a big problem. The problem of not differentiating between “at home” and “literally anywhere else.”

It was fine when he did it at home. More than fine, actually. You'd grown to love the way he'd automatically slip his hands under your shirt when you cuddled on the couch, or how he'd sleepily reach for you in the morning. But gosh, Humin had absolutely zero sense of appropriate timing or location.

You'd lost count of how many times you'd had to grab his wrists and gently pull his hands away when you were out in public. At the grocery store when he got bored waiting in line. During study sessions at the library when he got restless. Even at cafes when he'd absent-mindedly reach for your chest while scrolling through his phone.

“Baku, no,” had become your most frequently used phrase and honestly, the worst part? He has no idea why you were stopping him. He’d give you these genuinely confused looks as if the middle of the campus quad was an appropriate place for his hands to be wandering under your clothes.

Today’s situation had been the most annoying though, which led to your final decision of banning his touches. 

You and Humin had decided to catch the latest action movie on a Friday night. The theater was packed, and you'd managed to snag seats in the middle of a row, surrounded by other moviegoers. The previews were still playing when you felt Humin's familiar cold fingers slip under the hem of your sweater.

You didn't think anything of it at first as you were expecting his usual gentle touch on your stomach. The theater was dark enough, and you were tucked away in the corner where no one would notice. But his hands moved higher than usual, and instead of stopping at your bra like he did in public, his fingers slipped underneath the fabric to cup your bare breast.

You jumped so hard you nearly spilled your drink and a quiet gasp escaped your lips. 

“Humin.” you whispered angrily, grabbing his wrist and yanking his hand away. “What the hell?”

He looked genuinely confused, how annoying. “What? I wasn’t-”

“You can't just…” you took a deep breath “grab my boobs in a movie theater.”

“Why? There's barely anyone here. And I always touch you?”

Your eye twitched in frustration. You wanted to raise your voice to get your point across, but since you were in a movie theater, you just rolled your eyes and ignored him for the rest of the film.

-

After the movie was over you walked out in a tense silence. Humin kept trying to hold your hand, but you pulled away each time, still irritated. 

“Baby, come on,” he whined as you both got into his car. “What's the big deal? It's not like anyone saw anything.”

You turned to face him. “That's not the point, Baku! You can't just... feel me up in public. It's cringe and inappropriate!”

“But I always touch you,” he said, that same dumb confused expression on his face that made you want to kill him. “You’ve never minded before.”

“Because we were at home, Humin. At fucking home! Not in a movie theater, not at the grocery store, and not at the library!” You replied, turning your head to look out the window.

After a few minutes of silence Humin spoke, “Y/n. I’m sorry about touching you like that in public. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable but I did. I promise I won’t do it again.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at Baku's apologetic face. His genuine remorse was clear, but you wanted to have a little fun with this. “I forgive you.”

Humin smiled and was about to say something until you said, “But I’m going to have to put you on restriction.”

“Restrict- what the fuck is that?” 

“Probation. You’re cut off. You’re not allowed to touch my boobs until you fully understand my frustration.” 

Humin's eyes widened in horror like you'd just told him the worse news of his life. Well, maybe this was the worst news of his life. “What? No! You can't do that to me!” 

“Well, I just did so…” You shrugged your shoulders, trying to ignore how his bottom lip was already starting to wobble. “Maybe this will teach you the difference between private and public spaces.”

The rest of the ride home was filled with Humin's dramatic sighs and protests.

“But what if my hands get cold?”

“Then you’ll wear gloves like a normal person.”

“What if I need comfort?”

“I don’t know, hug a pillow.”

“What if I can't sleep without touching you?”

"Then you'll be very tired."

“But I can’t survive without sucking them!” 

“Humin shut up!” 

By the time you reached his home, Humin looked like a kicked puppy. He followed you inside, hovering around you like that would change your mind. 

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he sighed, throwing himself onto the couch, “I'm going to die. Actually die. From sadness.” 

“You're so dramatic,” you said, but you couldn't help but smile a little. 

“Dramatic? Would if I withheld my penis from you? How would you like that huh?” Baku whined then buried his face in a couch cushion and let out a muffled scream.

“What the fuck is actually wrong with you.” You responded. 

“Nothing is wrong with me! I just love you is all.” Baku said, finally looking up from the couch cushion. 

You laughed then sat next to him on the couch, slowly running your hands through his hair. He immediately leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

“So I can touch you now?” he mumbled, hope lacing his voice.

“No,” you said firmly, pulling your hand away.

“Goddammit woman!” 

-

So turns out Humin was the most dramatic person on the planet when he didn't get his way. He'd taken to wearing the most pathetic, sad expressions whenever you were around. He'd sigh heavily every few minutes, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When you cuddled on the couch, he'd place his hands on your waist or shoulders, then let out pitiful sighs like he was being tortured.

Mind you, it was only Saturday. One day after his ban. 

“You're being ridiculous,” you told him when you caught him staring longingly at your chest.

“I'm not being ridiculous,” he muttered, but his pout suggested otherwise.

“You're pouting.”

“I don't pout.”

“You're literally pouting right now.”

By Tuesday his friends had started to notice his very… very unusual behavior.

“Dude, what's wrong with you?” Gotak asked during a group lunch, watching as Humin stabbed at his food with unnecessary aggression.

“Nothing's wrong with me,” Humin grumbled.

“You've been weird all day,” Juntae added. “You keep sighing and staring at Y/n like she kicked your puppy.”

“She might as well have,” Humin muttered under his breath.

You kicked him under the table. “Don't be dramatic.”

“I'm not being dramatic!”

Sieun leaned forward, “Did you two have a fight?”

“We didn't have a fight,” you said quickly, shooting Humin a warning look. “Baku is just being a baby about something completely reasonable.”

“I am not being a baby!”

“You cried yesterday because I wouldn't let you put your hands under my hoodie.”

“I didn't cry! My eyes were just... watery.”

Sieun, Juntae, and Gotak exchanged confused looks but let it go. 

By Wednesday, you were starting to feel a little bad for Humin. Not bad enough to lift his punishment, but bad enough that you were considering it..

You had just gotten back from classes and were in his bedroom changing into more comfortable clothes. Normally when you were at home you never wore a bra. It was just more comfortable that way. Humin had gotten so used to it that he barely even noticed anymore. Well, he noticed, but it was just normal for him.

But now, with him on probation, you realized this might be the perfect opportunity to mess with him just a little before ending his punishment. 

You put on a fitted shirt that showed every detail of your chest and some comfy shorts then walked into the living room where Humin was spread on the couch, still looking pitiful. Cute, but pitiful. 

“Hey,” you said casually, settling down next to him.

Humin looked over at you, and you watched in real time as his brain processed what he was seeing. His eyes went wide, then narrowed, then wide again.

“Y/n,” he said slowly.

“Hm?”

“Why did you even put on a shirt?”

You tilted your head, like you were confused, “What do you mean?” 

“I can see your tits through the shirt!” 

You looked down at your shirt innocently, as if you hadn't deliberately chosen the most fitted top you owned. “Can you? I didn't notice.”

Humin's jaw dropped. “You're doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what on purpose?” you asked, stretching your arms above your head in a stretch. The movement made your shirt ride up slightly and pull tighter across your chest.

Humin made a strangled noise. “You're evil. Actually evil.”

“I'm just wearing a shirt, baby,” you said, settling back against the couch. “It's not my fault you're... distracted.”

“Distracted?” His voice cracked slightly. “Y/n, you know exactly what you're doing to me right now.”

You turned to face him fully, watching as his eyes immediately dropped to your chest before snapping back up to your face. “What am I doing to you?”

“You're... you're…” He gestured helplessly at your shirt. 

“Use your words, baby,” you teased.

Humin let out a frustrated groan and buried his face in his hands. “You’re giving me blue balls!” 

“No I’m not!” 

“Yes, you are. You're the worst girlfriend ever.”

“Aw, that's not very nice,” you pouted, leaning closer to him. “Maybe I should add another week to your punishment.”

“No!” Humin's head shot up, eyes wide with panic. “No, no, no. You're the best girlfriend ever. So beautiful  and funny. I love you so much.”

You laughed at his dramatic change in tune. “You're being very cute right now.”

For the next hour, you continued your torture. You'd lean over to grab the remote, giving him a perfect view down your shirt. You'd stretch, arch your back, and basically do everything you could to drive him crazy without actually letting him touch you. 

Thursday came and guys were having dinner with friends and they still had so many questions.

“Seriously dude, what is wrong with you? We tried to drop it last time but I can’t ignore it anymore” Gotak asked.

“Y/n's still being mean to me,” Humin mumbled.

“Stop lying to your friends.” 

“I’m not lying. You're torturing me!”

“How is she torturing you?” Gotak asked, looking between you two with confusion.

“She just…” Humin trailed off, clearly not wanting to explain the situation to his friends. “She's withholding affection.”

“Withholding affection?” Juntae pressed.

“Yeah, like... she won't let me…” Humin caught your warning glare and quickly changed course. “She won't let me hold her hand!”

His friends exchanged confused looks.

“You're being weird about hand holding?” Sieun asked slowly.

“Very weird,” Gotak agreed.

“I'm not weird! I just love holding her hand! And she's being stingy with the hand holding!”

You buried your face in your hands, torn between embarrassment and amusement at his terrible cover story.

“This is the weirdest conversation I've ever been part of,” Sieun said.

-

Later that evening, you were curled up on Humin's couch, still giggling about his ridiculous hand-holding excuse.

“Hand holding?” you said, holding in a giggle. “That's the best you could come up with?”

“I panicked!” Humin flopped down beside you dramatically. “I'm not good under pressure, okay? I just wanted them to stop asking questions.”

You laughed, and the sound made Humin's expression soften.

“I love your laugh,” he said quietly.

“Even when I'm laughing at you?”

“Especially then.”

You looked at him as the two of you cuddled on the couch. His hair was messy, his eyes were soft, and despite his dramatics, he looked genuinely happy just to be near you. 

“Can I ask you something?” he said quietly after a while.

“Sure.”

“Do you like it? When I touch you like that, I mean. Not in public obviously, but at home.”

You turned to look at him, surprised by the uncertainty in his voice. “Of course I like it. Why would you even ask that?”

“I don't know. This whole week made me think that maybe you just put up with it because you felt bad for me or because you felt like you had to or something.”

“Baku.” You shifted so you were facing him fully. “I love the way you touch me. I love that you find comfort in it. The only thing I don't love is when you try to do it in front of other people.”

Relief flooded his face. “Really?”

“Really. And you want to know a secret?” You leaned closer, dropping your voice to a whisper. “Sometimes when you're just holding me like that, playing with the lace on my bra or just touching me  gently. It drives me crazy.”

Humin's eyes darkened slightly. "Yeah?"

“Yeah. A good crazy. Like I can barely concentrate on whatever we're doing because all I can focus on is your hands.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, his grip on you tightening slightly. “You can't say things like that to me right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I've been thinking about touching you for six days straight and if you keep talking like that I'm going to lose my mind.”

You bit your lip, studying his face. His pupils were dilated and you could see the way he was holding himself back. It was actually pretty hot, seeing him like this.

“Well,” you said slowly, “I suppose you have been very good today.”

“Have I?” he asked hopefully.

“Mmhm. Very well behaved. Very respectfulish.” You traced a finger along his jawline, enjoying the way he shivered at the light touch. “I think you've learned your lesson.”

“I have. I definitely have. I'm a changed man.”

You laughed, “Okay. Your punishment is officially over.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before Humin was kissing you, his hands immediately going to cup your face. It wasn't rushed or desperate like you'd expected, but slow, like he was savoring the moment.

When you broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours and said, “I love you.”

“I love you too baby.” 

Humin grinned and leaned down to kiss your neck, his hands finally sliding under your shirt to rest on your waist. His touch was gentle and his hands were cold. The two of you shuffled so that you were sitting on his lap. 

“I want to see them,” he said, looking up at you with dark eyes. “Please?”

You nodded, and he carefully pushed your shirt up, his breath catching when you were revealed to him.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. “You're so beautiful.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your chest, right over your heart, and you smoothed your fingers through his hair.

“Can I suck on them?” he asked, and the question was so direct and honest that you laughed.

“Of course baby.”

He didn't need to be told twice. His mouth latched onto your nipple, and the feeling made your back arch. He sucked gently at first, then with more pressure when you made a soft sound of approval.

“Missed this,” he mumbled against your skin, switching to your other breast. “Missed this so much.”

His free hand continued to knead and caress, and you got lost in the sensation. You missed this too. The way Humin touched you like you were his treasure, like you were his whole world.

“Feels good,” you breathed, and he hummed against your skin in response.

He took his time, switching between gentle kisses and firmer sucking, using his tongue to tease and his teeth to just barely graze your nipple. Your fingers tightened in his hair, and he groaned at the sensation.

“Humin,” you gasped when he bit down a little harder.

“You like that?” he asked, looking up at you with dark eyes. “You like when I bite?”

“You know what I like.”

“I want you to say it,” he said, his thumb brushing over your other nipple. “Tell me everything you like.”

“I like when you bite,” you said breathlessly. “I like when you suck hard enough to leave marks. I like when you use your tongue to…oh!”

He'd taken your other nipple into his mouth while you were talking, sucking hard just like you'd described. Your words dissolved into soft moans as he worked you over with his mouth and hands.

“You're so sensitive,” he murmured, switching between your breasts. “So responsive. I could do this for hours.”

“Please,” you gasped, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Please what, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“I want... I want you to keep going. Don't stop.”

“I won't stop,” he promised, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. “I'm going to love every inch of you. I'm going to make up for every day I couldn't touch you.”

Humin flipped you on your back so that he was hovering above you. He took a moment to just look at you, “I can't believe you're mine,” he said, his voice full of awe.

“I'm yours,” you confirmed. “All yours.”

Humin smiled and took in your nipple in his mouth again, his hand trailing down to pull your pajama shorts off. 

“Baku,” you whimpered when he bit down gently on your nipple.

“Hm?”

Instead of answering with words, you took his hand and guided it down your body, past the waistband of your panties. He groaned when he felt how wet you were.

“All this for me?” he asked, his fingers starting to move in slow, teasing circles around your clit.

You nodded as you moaned loudly, sensitive from not being touched in a week. 

“So wet, Y/n.” He whispered, voice thick with desire. “So perfect like this. Falling apart for me.”

Your head tipped back against the couch cushions, a soft whimper escaping you. Humin kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then moved lower again to kiss the swell of your breast. 

His fingers slipped lower, circling your entrance but not pushing in, just teasing. You let out a sound of frustration, and he let out a low laugh. “Use your words, baby.”

“I want your fingers,” you whispered. “Inside me. Please.”

The moment you said it, he obliged, slowly sliding two fingers into your heat. You gasped and your back arched as your hands flew to grip his shoulders. “Fuck!”

Shh,” he murmured, curling his fingers just right. “Let me take care of you.”

He set a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of you as his thumb found your clit again. Your body responded instantly—hips rocking, breath hitching, thighs trembling around his hand.

“That’s it,” he whispered, never taking his eyes off of you. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. You always look so good when I’m touching you.”

You felt like you were going crazy, your body wasa over-aware of everything being said and done. “I’m close,” you breathed, barely able to speak. “Please, don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping,” he promised as his fingers pressed deeper into you. 

With a cry, you came hard around his fingers. Your body jerked as the wave crashed over you. Humin held you through your climax, his free hand stroking your thigh as he whispered praises into your skin.

He kissed your forehead. “You okay?”

“Yes but, It was so good.” You said as your body sunk deeper into the couch as you tried to catch your breath. 

Humin stayed close, his fingers slowly pulling out of you with gentle care. He brought his hand to his mouth, tasting you with a soft groan that made your thighs twitch.

Can’t believe I went a whole week without this,” he murmured, trailing kisses across your collarbone. “Lift your hips baby.” 

You lifted your hips and Humin tugged your now soaked panties down your legs. He ran his hands along your thighs, then leaned down to press kisses to the inside of each one then pressed a firm kiss to your clit. 

You gasped when his lips made contact with your core and a soft surprised moan caught in your throat. His tongue flicked over your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. He wasn’t rushing it. He was taking his time, savoring every reaction you gave him.

“Humin,” you breathed, voice already trembling again.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt through your whole body. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you open for him as he worked his tongue on the place you needed him the most. He’d always been good at this but now it felt like he was determined to remind you exactly how much you’d missed this week.

You reached for him, one hand fisting in his hair, and he groaned softly when you tugged. His tongue pressed harder and faster when your hips started to buck into his face, he paused and sucked your clit into his mouth.

You choked nearly jerking away, but his grip on your thighs tightened. “Stay still,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. “Let me take care of you, baby. ”

Your head tipped back in pleasure. Your body burning with pleasure and your nerves buzzing. You could barely think. All you could do was feel. 

Humin kept going until your whole body was trembling and your moans were little whimpers. Your second orgasm hit stronger than the first, and you cried out in pleasure. 

After your orgasm Humin didn’t stop. He kept licking you through it, even sucking your clit. “You taste so good,” he murmured between licks. “I could do this for hours.”

Finally it was getting to be too much, you were moaning continuously and you were pushing weakly at his head, oversensitive and gasping.

“Too much,” you cried.

Humin finally let up and gave your clit one last soft kiss before lifting his head. His lips were slick, and there was a soft look in his eyes. “You’re unreal,” he whispered, brushing your hair away from your face. “So fucking pretty when you cum.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He melted into the kiss and his hands slowly found there way back to your chest, thumbing at your nipples. 

“Humin, I need a break,” you said pulling away from the kiss.

“Of course baby. We don’t have to go all the way tonight.”

“No! I want to go all the way, I just need a breather.” You responded, kissing his lips. 

“Thats fine! Want to watch a movie?” 

You shook your head no and pointed to the obvious bulge in his pants, “I can help take the edge off until I’m ready.” 

“You don’t have to do that, I can wait. Or I can take care of it in the bathroom-”

“No! I want to do it.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low, already affected.

You nodded slowly, “Let me take care of you, baby. You’ve been so patient.”

He swallowed hard, “You sure?”

“Very.” You kissed the corner of his mouth. 

He sat back as you shifted to the floor in front of him, pressing your palms to his thighs. His breathing was heavy as he watched you, and his hands rested awkwardly on his knees like he was trying not to grab you. You ran your fingers up his thighs, teasing the waistband of his sweats before tugging them down.

Humin helped you ease them off, his erection springing free. He looked painfully hard.

You leaned forward to kiss the tip, just a soft press of your lips, and he let out a shaky breath. “Fuck,” he muttered, head tipping back.

“And you call me sensitive.” 

When you finally took him in your mouth, his hips jerked up and he let out a string of curses. 

“Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good,” he groaned, his hands gripping the ends of the couch.

You hummed around him in response, taking him deeper. Every reaction made you want to give him more. 

You took your time with him, using your tongue and lips to drive him crazy. When you could tell he was getting close, you pulled back, ignoring his whimper of protest.

“You can’t come two times. You know that.” 

“But-”

“I’m ready, Humin.” You said, cutting off his protest. 

His breath hitched as you cupped him, wrapping your fingers gently around his length. You got up from your knees and placed yourself over his lap, slowly sinking down onto his length. Both of you moaned at the sensation, your eyes falling closed as you adjusted to the feeling of being filled.

“Fuck Y/n, you feel incredible,” Humin moaned, his hands going to your hips.

You started to move slowly, savoring the feeling of being connected to him like this. His hands roamed your body freely, stopping to cup your breasts as you rode him.

“So perfect,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. “You're so damn perfect like this. Riding me. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, hm?” 

You leaned down, pressing your forehead to his, lips barely brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss, “Yes Humin, only you.” 

Slowly, you picked up your pace, riding him faster and clenching him in. You felt him deepen his grip and his breathing get uneven as you slid down and back up again. 

He pulled you down for another kiss, and the angle change made you both moan into each other's mouths. 

You slowed your pace, leaning forward to press your hands against his chest, grounding yourself. His lips found your neck, trailing soft, featherlight kisses.

“Touch yourself,” he requested breathlessly. “I want to watch you touch yourself while you ride me.” 

“Fuck Humin,” you said but did as he asked.  Your fingers found your clit as you continued to move on top of him and stimulation was almost too much. 

“That's it,” he encouraged, hands guiding your hips, “Keep going.” 

Your free hand tangled in his hair as you picked up momentum again. Your eyes locked and you moaned at the lustful look behind his. 

Your hands left his hair and he leaned down to take your breast into his mouth for the 100th time today. You felt yourself tipping over the edge and you couldn’t hold it anymore. 

“Humin,” you gasped

“I know, baby. I can feel you tightening around me. Let go for me.”

Humin pushed your hand away from your clit and replaced it with his hand. The stimulation from his fingers was all you needed. You came with a cry, your body clenched around him as your third orgasm hit. 

The feeling of you coming around him was enough to push Humin over the edge too, and he thrusted into you one last time before spilling his seed into you.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing heavily. His arms wrapped around you immediately, holding you close as you both came down from your high. 

For a moment, you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, heartbeats slowing to match, skin sticky and warm. You were the one to break the silence, “Are you okay?” 

“I should be asking you that, you’re the one who came three times.”

You laughed, “Light work.” 

Humin smiled and kissed you softly. “We should probably shower.”

You yawned, “Probably.” 

“You’re not going to get off of me are you?” Humin asked.

“Nope.”

-

AND SCENE. Erm... thank you queens for reading. Was very very fun to write this :D REQUEST IF U WANT

[poetic-emmett]

You know life's fucking shitty when you start relating to this motherfucker:

[juliettejwnewinesa]

please make something with toxic seongje and gf reader 🙏🏻

Toxic Fluff // Seongjae x Reader

Seongjae’s apartment was a mess of scattered clothes, empty energy drink cans, and the faint smell of cigarettes lingering in the air. It was the kind of chaos that felt like him — unpredictable, a little dangerous, but somehow familiar enough that Y/N had learned to navigate it without losing herself.

She stood by the door, arms crossed, watching him slump on the worn-out couch, eyes fixed on his phone screen but clearly not seeing it.

“You’re late,” she said, voice calm but edged with disappointment.

He didn’t look up. “Work ran long.”

“Again,” she pressed. “You promised you’d call this time.”

Seongjae finally met her gaze, dark eyes tired but sharp. “I don’t owe you explanations.”

The words hit like a slap, and Y/N’s jaw clenched. She hated how easily he shut her out, how he could turn cold like a switch flicked on and off. Yet, she hated even more how she kept coming back for more, hoping maybe this time he’d let her in.

“You don’t have to like it, but I’m here. I’m trying.”

He scoffed, but the usual fire in his eyes dimmed for a second. “Trying isn’t enough.”

“Then what is?”

Seongjae leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t know.”

Y/N moved closer, hesitating only a moment before sitting next to him. The space between them was charged, like static before a storm.

“I hate this,” she whispered.

“So do I,” he admitted.

They sat in silence, a fragile truce hanging between them until Seongjae’s hand found hers. His fingers wrapped around hers, tight but hesitant.

“Don’t leave,” he said softly.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t want to.”

But the words felt brittle, like a promise made on cracking ice.

Days passed like that — a cycle of heated fights and tender apologies, cold silences and sudden touches. Sometimes, Seongjae’s anger flared over small things: a missed message, a forgotten plan, a joke taken wrong. Other times, Y/N’s frustration boiled over, her voice rising as she demanded the honesty and care she craved.

And always, after the storm, they found each other again, bruised, exhausted, but somehow unwilling to let go.

One night, after a particularly rough argument that left both of them shouting into the dark, Seongjae stormed out. Y/N waited, heart pounding, unsure if he’d come back.

Hours later, the door creaked open. He stepped inside, clothes rumpled, eyes heavy with regret.

Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. Y/N let herself melt into the heat of him, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her hair.

“For what?”

“For everything. For being so damn stubborn. For pushing you away.”

She shook her head, voice thick. “I’m not perfect either.”

He pulled back slightly, searching her face. “We’re a mess.”

“A toxic mess,” she said with a shaky laugh.

“But ours.”

Seongjae kissed her then — slow, desperate, as if trying to memorize every inch of her before the chaos swallowed them again.

In the quiet aftermath, wrapped in each other’s arms, they found something rare: a fragile peace, a whispered hope that maybe, despite the toxicity, despite the pain, love could still grow — flawed, imperfect, but real.

Because sometimes, love wasn’t about being perfect. It was about holding on even when everything told you to let go.

And Y/N was willing to hold on. For Seongjae. For the messy, beautiful, broken thing they had.

[innerchimeragalaxy]

[freakmcnastyy]

The Last Candle

Oh Beom Seok x f!reader

Summary: In a world that made him feel invisible, you became the only light Beom-seok dared to believe in.

Note: Anon request! I’ve been feeling really sorry for Beom-seok nowadays, so in this fic, I wrote someone who’s there for him when he feels left out.

⸻

Si-eun, Su-ho, Beom-seok, and you were once inseparable. Si-eun’s quiet intelligence, Su-ho’s protective nature, Beom-seok’s fragile soul, and your way of treating everyone equally—together, these things made your friendship feel rare.

Even with the bullying he had faced in the past and the chaos he lived through at home, Beom-seok had found a place among you. The way you cared for him—your gentle attention, your quiet understanding—became a kind of light for him. The moments he shared with you felt precious. Around you, he felt safe.

But things shifted when Yeong-i joined the group. Su-ho’s growing interest in her started to stir up something dark in Beom-seok. His old insecurities came rushing back. He began to feel left out, like he was fading into the background. Even though your support never wavered, a deep sense of loneliness had already taken root inside him.

He tried to hold on to the bond he had with you. He talked to you, opened up. But the group dynamics kept changing, and slowly, he started to feel like a burden. Like he didn’t really belong anymore. Like no one would notice if he just... disappeared.

Those feelings created a storm inside him. He felt invisible. Unwanted. Forgotten. Even your presence, even your kindness, couldn’t quiet the noise in his head. He was drowning in his own darkness, and it was getting harder to breathe.

The warmth the four of you once shared eventually faded into distance and silence.

⸻

That day, Si-eun wasn’t there. His absence left a strange silence in the air, but you still walked like there were four of you. Because now, Yeong-i was part of it. Maybe at first she seemed temporary, but slowly, she was carving out her place.

As you walked down the street, Su-ho and Yeong-i moved ahead. You and Beom-seok trailed behind.

When the sound of their laughter echoed through the narrow road, Beom-seok dropped his head slightly. His shoulders tensed, and he picked up his pace just a bit. He tried to smile at something Su-ho said. But then Yeong-i added something, Su-ho turned back to her, and they laughed again—just the two of them.

Beom-seok’s voice hung in the air for a second... and then quietly disappeared.

That’s when you noticed it.

That tiny effort. That shadow in his eyes.

You didn’t say a word. You just gently slipped your arm through his. When you turned to gauge his reaction, he looked surprised at first—his eyes widened slightly. Then he smiled, slowly... but there was something broken behind it.

In a soft voice, you whispered,

“You can talk to me, Beom-seok. I’m listening.”

He looked at you like he wanted to thank you. But no words came. He looked away almost immediately. Even your quiet company felt like too much for him to deserve.

⸻

Later, you arrived at a café. Su-ho ordered with Yeong-i. You gave your order. Beom-seok ended up last in line. It felt like no one even noticed he hadn’t ordered yet. Everyone just turned and walked off to the table. And of course, the bill was left to him. Again.

Small things—but they left huge, aching spaces in his chest.

You waited. You stayed beside him. As you walked with him to the counter, you brushed his arm lightly.

“If you want,” you said, meeting his eyes,

“We don’t have to stay long. I know they make you feel like you don’t belong sometimes… but you do. At least, to me.”

That one sentence—those few words—sent a storm crashing behind his eyes. His lips trembled, but he caught himself.

When you returned to the table, you sat next to him.

The only one who didn’t leave him alone.

And for that, even in silence, he was endlessly grateful.

The café was stuffy, the crowd too loud, but somehow, Beom-seok’s silence hurt the most. Even with you beside him, his eyes stayed fixed on a single spot.

Su-ho and Yeong-i laughed, shared screens, whispered things. Like it didn’t matter whether Beom-seok was there or not. You recognized that kind of quiet humiliation. His silence wasn’t “I’m fine.” It was “I’m breaking, and no one sees it.”

So you made up an excuse. Pushed your chair back a little.

“I feel like taking a walk,” you said casually.

Then you turned to him with a small smile.

“Come with me? We could use some air.”

He met your eyes briefly, then gave a small nod. Wordless. Soft. He grabbed his coat and followed.

When you stepped out, the breeze kissed both your faces. Out of habit, you slipped your arm through his again, and the two of you walked slowly.

At first, you didn’t say anything.

Then, out of nowhere, you asked,

“What does it feel like… being around them?”

Your voice wasn’t accusing. Just… honest.

He shrugged.

“Like I’m just... extra.”

A pause. A few more steps.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, “I can’t even hear my own voice around them. Su-ho says something, Yeong-i chimes in, you smile… and I’m always one step behind. Unless someone directly asks me what I think, I feel like I’m not even there.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in his words. You looked at him—but he kept staring ahead. His lips were trembling slightly, but his eyes weren’t angry. Just tired.

“And at home?” you asked gently.

A longer pause.

“Every conversation with my dad feels like a test I’m failing. Whatever I say is wrong. Whatever I do is not enough. He already sees me as a disappointment.

And my mom… she’s here sometimes, not here the rest. The silence screams louder than anything else.

That’s why I run away so much.”

You stopped walking.

You didn’t need to keep going. What he just said had rooted you to the spot.

You stepped in front of him. He looked at you, surprised.

And then you lifted your hands, placed them gently on his cheeks.

The moment your skin touched his, his eyes widened. He looked at you like he had never been touched before.

You smiled softly.

“You’re not lacking, Beom-seok. Not with them. Not at home. Not with me.”

He tried to say something, but you kept going.

Your voice didn’t shake. If anything, it was the only steady thing in his crumbling world.

“I see you. I take you seriously. I like walking with you, talking to you… just being near you. Maybe no one ever said it out loud before, but— I’m here. Really here. And you matter.”

His eyes filled. He blinked hard, trying to hold it back, but it was close. So close.

“Yn… you…” he whispered.

“Hm?”

“You’re like… the last candle lighting up this darkness.”

You smiled again. You didn’t pull your hand away.

He was still looking at you, eyes glassy but lips curving slightly. There was hesitation in his expression—shyness, disbelief… but mostly, quiet gratitude.

And then, without warning, you leaned in and pressed a tiny kiss to the tip of his nose. His eyes shot open.

“H-Hey!” he stammered, but before he could finish, he broke into a laugh. A real one. Nervous, boyish, and honest.

He tilted his head back, covering his mouth like he couldn’t believe what just happened. But he didn’t stop you.

You laughed too, at his reaction. Then you opened your arms.

“Come here.”

He didn’t hesitate. He stepped into you. Rested his head against your neck. Wrapped his arms around you—tight.

Close enough for you to feel the rhythm of his heart.

Each time your hand touched his back, he trembled just a little.

Every wall he’d built fell away.

“No one’s ever done this,” he whispered.

“No one’s ever hugged me like this. Or looked at me like this.”

“I see you, Beom-seok,” you said softly.

“I see the boy who tries to protect others even while falling apart. And I love that boy.”

He held you tighter.

There, under the fading sky, for the first time—

he felt like himself.

No Su-ho. No father. No Yeong-i.

Just you.

Just your arms.

And for once, that was enough.

You stood there for a long time.

The silence had never felt so peaceful.

And somewhere deep inside, without saying it out loud,

Beom-seok thought:

“Maybe someone can love me for real…”

[sjse]

#성제시은 😬

[countyourfreckleslikestars]

Just go with what I say

pairing: oh Beom-Seok x reader (weak hero)

wordcount: ~3.3k

warnings: dom!reader, sub!beom-seok, virgin!beom-seok, power dynamics, overstimulation, praise kink, marking (biting/hickeys), rough riding (cowgirl), wrist pinning, oral (m!receiving), creampie, dacryphilia (crying during orgasm), dirty talk, slight aftercare, possessive behavior, reader is baek-jin’s sister (even though he makes no appearance), implied gang violence (non-graphic), reader uses “baby,” “good boy”

Beom-Seok knew he was being followed.

It started with the sound—low engine rumbles creeping behind him like a warning growl. At first, he told himself it was coincidence. Just a few guys out on bikes, taking the same route. Nothing more.

But then he turned the same corner. Once. Twice. Three times.

And they were still there.

His hands clenched the straps of his backpack tighter. Shoulders hunched. He kept his head low, trying to stay invisible, but the roar of engines only felt louder in the silence of the empty street. They were trailing him slowly now, like they were waiting for him to slip. Waiting for him to panic.

‘They’ll stop eventually… right?’ he told himself. ‘They’re just trying to scare me.’

That’s when he felt it—a hand sliding around his shoulders from behind. A body pressing into his side.

His entire body jolted, ready to flinch, but then—

“Hey, babe!”

A girl’s voice. Loud, cheerful, familiar in a way that made no sense.

He blinked, heart racing as she leaned in close.

“Should’ve told me you were on your way,” she said sweetly, her smile wide and bright—but he could feel the tension in her body, see the stiffness in her jaw.

“I would’ve come sooner.”

Then her voice dropped, barely audible over the rumble of the motorbikes still behind them.

“You’re being followed. Just go with whatever I say.”

Beom-Seok didn’t know who she was, didn’t even get a good look at her face yet, but there was something in her voice—certainty. Control. It cut through the chaos in his mind like a blade.

He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

She adjusted her hold on him, tucking herself against his side like a girlfriend out for a late-night walk. Her body was warm, her hand firm against his chest as she leaned in and whispered something about how long her day had been, how glad she was to see him.

Every word was a lie for show.

But behind them, the motorbikes began to slow.

One of the gang members cursed under his breath.

“Wait… is that her? That’s—fuck—Baek-Jin’s sister.”

Another one muttered, “You serious? She’s the one that broke that kid’s jaw last semester—”

Brakes squealed. One of the bikes turned sharply and sped off. The rest followed.

Gone.

⸻

Beom-Seok didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until the silence settled again.

She finally let go, stepping back just enough to face him. He turned, eyes wide, confused and breathless. The streetlight above them flickered faintly, casting a soft glow over her features.

He finally saw her—sharp eyes, calm expression, a quiet kind of power.

“You good?” she asked casually, as if she hadn’t just scared off a whole gang with nothing but a fake smile and a whisper.

“Y-Yeah…” he mumbled, still dazed. “W-Who are you?”

She gave him a small, knowing smile and told him her name.

“I’m Baek-Jin’s little sister. Right-hand, too.”

His throat went dry. He’d heard of her. Everyone had. People said she was worse than Baek-Jin himself—quieter, smarter, and more dangerous.

He felt dizzy.

“You shouldn’t walk home alone,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced down the empty road. “Especially not when Gil-Su’s crew is out looking for people to fuck with.”

She hesitated, then added, “Come with me.”

Beom-Seok blinked. “What?”

“To my place,” she said. “They might still be lurking. I don’t want them finding out where you live.”

His heart skipped.

He should’ve said no. He didn’t even know her. But something about her voice—low and calm, something about the way she looked at him like he was something worth protecting—it made him nod without thinking.

“O-Okay.”

Beom-Seok stood awkwardly in the middle of her apartment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

He was too nervous to sit.

Too aware of her presence—how calmly she moved, the way she kicked her boots off by the door like this was just another Tuesday. Like she hadn’t just saved his ass.

He clutched his backpack straps tighter.

“Relax,” she said without looking at him. Her voice was even. Low. “They’re not coming.”

She disappeared into the kitchen. He heard the fridge open. A bottle cap twist.

“You want water?” she called.

He nodded, realized she couldn’t see that, then croaked out, “Yeah—yes, please.”

She tossed it to him over the counter, and this time, he caught it. Barely.

She smirked a little when he fumbled it against his chest.

“You’re jumpy,” she said, stepping back into the main room. “That wasn’t even a fast throw.”

Beom-Seok swallowed, shoulders tense. “I-I’m not used to… people. Helping me.”

“No shit,” she said casually, crossing her arms. “You looked like a rabbit about to get hit by a truck back there.”

He blinked. “Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.”

Her voice snapped like a whip. Not harsh, not angry. Just… final.

His mouth shut immediately.

She nodded toward the couch.

“Sit. You’re making me anxious.”

He obeyed, stiffly settling on the edge of the cushion.

She sat beside him—close. Not touching, but just enough to make the hair on his neck stand up. The room felt too quiet. Her presence took up all the air.

“What’s your name?” she asked suddenly.

“…Beom-Seok.”

She hummed. “You go to Eunjang, right?”

He nodded. “Y-Yeah. Class 2-3.”

She glanced at him. He looked away too fast. She didn’t.

“You always stutter when girls talk to you?”

He froze.

Her voice wasn’t mocking. It was teasing, sure. But curious. Intrigued.

He peeked at her from the corner of his eye—at the sharp line of her jaw, the loose strands of hair falling in her face, the faint scar above her brow.

“O-Only when they’re…” He stopped.

She raised a brow. “Only when they’re what?”

He swallowed hard. “Scary.”

That made her laugh. A low, amused sound that did things to him he wasn’t ready to examine.

“You think I’m scary?”

He nodded. Quickly.

She shifted, turning to face him more fully. Elbow resting on the back of the couch, fingers ghosting under her chin. Studying him.

“I think you’re scared of a lot of things,” she said quietly. “But I don’t think you should be scared of me.”

His breath caught.

“You shouldn’t be scared of someone who’d fight off five guys for you.”

Beom-Seok didn’t know what to say. His hands were clenched between his knees. His chest tight with something unfamiliar—like gratitude, but deeper. Hungrier.

You leaned in a little, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You aren’t scared of me, are you?”

He shook his head. Honest. Dazed. “N-No…”

“Good.”

A beat passed. She reached up, casually brushed a bit of lint off his shoulder, then let her hand drift—just slightly—across the base of his throat. Testing. Watching him react.

He flinched. Barely. But he didn’t pull away.

Her fingers hovered there for a moment.

“Your pulse is racing,” she murmured.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

She smiled. This time, it was soft. Almost… warm.

“Don’t apologize,” she repeated, gentler now. “Just breathe.”

The silence in the room thickened like honey.

Your fingers were still brushing the base of his throat, feeling his pulse quicken under your touch. His lips were slightly parted, eyes flicking down to your mouth like he couldn’t help it.

You tilted your head, voice barely above a breath.

“You want me to stop?”

He shook his head. Fast. Desperate.

“Say it,” you whispered.

“No,” he breathed. “Don’t stop.”

You smirked—there it was.

Your hand slid upward, fingers cupping the side of his neck with slow control. He whimpered. Whimpered. And when you leaned in and kissed him, it was soft—at first.

But when he kissed you back? When his fingers clumsily grabbed at your hoodie like he didn’t know what else to do with himself?

That’s when you bit his lip.

He gasped.

And that gasp gave you the perfect opening to push your tongue into his mouth, tasting the leftover fear and adrenaline on him like sugar. You straddled his lap without asking—without needing to. His hands flew to your hips like instinct, like he’d never wanted to be this close to anyone before.

“Is this your first time?” you asked between kisses, your mouth hot against his jaw, then his throat.

He nodded quickly.

“You wanna stop?”

“N-No. Please… please don’t stop.”

“Good boy.”

He shuddered.

You slid your hands under his shirt—slowly, deliberately—feeling the lean muscle beneath his trembling body. His breath stuttered when your nails scraped lightly down his sides. His thighs shifted under you, twitching.

“You’re so sensitive,” you purred. “Bet you’ll come so fast if I just grind on you.”

You rolled your hips once. Just once.

His head fell back against the couch, eyes fluttering.

“F-Fuck—!”

“That easy?” you teased. “God, you’re adorable.”

He made a strangled sound, trying to hide his face. You didn’t let him. You grabbed his jaw, fingers gripping firmly, making him look at you.

“Don’t look away. You stay right here with me, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah—yes, I promise.”

You rewarded him with another roll of your hips—this time slower, letting the friction build between you, his cock already rock-hard under you and leaking through his pants. You hadn’t even touched him properly yet.

You leaned forward, lips brushing his ear.

“You gonna let me take care of you, baby?”

“Y-Yes, please—please I-I want—”

You cut him off by biting down on his neck, hard enough to leave a mark. He moaned. Moaned. Loud and broken and so fucking needy it made your pussy throb.

You pulled back, stood up, and held your hand out.

“Come to the bedroom.”

He stumbled to his feet, pupils blown, hands shaking. You led him like a dog on a leash.

⸻

You pushed him down onto the bed, climbed on top of him, and finally tugged at his belt.

“Take it off.”

He obeyed so fast he almost fumbled it. You watched the way his hands shook, the way he swallowed like his throat was dry. When his pants and boxers hit the floor, his dick slapped up against his stomach—long, flushed, already dripping.

You clicked your tongue.

“Already this hard? I haven’t even sucked you off yet.”

Beom-Seok whimpered, hips twitching.

You took your shirt off slowly. Let him watch.

His eyes trailed over every inch of you—thirsty, reverent, helpless.

Then you got on your knees between his legs.

You didn’t touch him right away. Just leaned in close, lips brushing his tip without taking him in. His hips jerked. You pressed a hand flat to his stomach.

“Don’t move unless I say so.”

“O-Okay—okay—”

You licked a slow stripe from base to tip. He choked.

Then finally—finally—you took him in.

All the way.

“F-Fuck—oh my god—ah, ah—please—!”

You sucked him off like you were starving. Eyes locked on his. Every time he tried to buck his hips, you pulled off with a warning.

“Stay still, baby. You wanna come already?”

“N-No—I mean—yes—just—fuck—!”

You hollowed your cheeks, swirling your tongue around the tip, then down, letting spit drip from your mouth to his cock as you jerked him slow and firm.

His hands gripped the sheets like a lifeline.

You could feel him getting close. His thighs shaking. Stomach tensing.

You stopped.

He whined.

“Why’d you stop—?!”

“Because I’m not done with you yet,” you said, crawling over him again. You slipped off your pants and panties and straddled him. Lined him up.

“You want this?” you asked, grinding against his leaking tip, letting him feel the heat of your cunt.

“Yes—yes please—fuck, I want you—”

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours—yours—please, fuck me—”

You sank down on him in one smooth motion.

He screamed.

“FUCK—!”

You rode him hard. No mercy. His hands flew to your hips but you grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, forcing him to take every inch while your walls fluttered around him.

“You feel that?” you whispered, panting in his ear. “That’s what you get for being so good.”

He was already close again—soaked in sweat, eyes rolling back.

“Can I—please can I come, please—!”

“Beg.”

“Please—please let me come—I need it—please I’ve never—fuck—!”

You slammed down on him hard once, twice, and he shattered.

Hot, thick ropes inside you, his entire body convulsing under you like he was short-circuiting.

You didn’t stop. Not until he was sobbing.

“Too much—f-fuck—”

“Shh,” you whispered. “You’re fine. You’re mine.”

And when he finally stopped shaking, when his eyes fluttered closed and he exhaled like he’d just been reborn—you kissed his forehead and whispered sweet praises into his ear

He’s a mess. Chest heaving, eyes glazed, skin flushed and damp.

You wipe his hair back from his face and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You did so good, baby.”

He smiles through the haze, dazed and pliant.

“F-Feel like I’m dreaming…”

You chuckle, shifting to lay beside him, pulling the blanket over both of you.

“If you were dreaming, you wouldn’t be this sore tomorrow.”

“F-Fuck…”

You stroke his chest slowly, letting him come down from the high. He turns into you, burying his face in your neck, clinging like a boy starved for affection.

You hold him. Tight.

And just before he dozes off, you whisper:

“Next time, I want you on your knees.”

authors note: hi guys!! Hope yall like this! It’s rll not proofread and I’m half asleep as I write this so I hope it’s good 😭

Love ya, Moon

Tags (request or comment to be added)

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @inotaku-talkz @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium @d-dilemma @lovestruck-sky @sxmmerchxld

[pamouche]

Su-ho-ya. I’m sorry I forgot everything you taught me. How great it is to have friends. How nice it is to laugh. What you did for me, I want to try doing that for others.

WEAK HERO CLASS. SEASON 2

[hystericalend]

was talking with a friend abt weak hero and we birthed a semi-joking hc that juntae is really into bl and yaoi and how maybe he brings some mangas to the hospital for suho as an effort to bond..... and maybe one of his bl mangas was accidentally left in the pile.... and maybe suho is intrigued by the cover that looks nothing like all the other manga juntae brought him so he picks it up and-

warning. this got way too long. read at your own risk

SO we know juntae's friend group before sieun was all the anime losers so it's not too far of a stretch to assume that he's also into anime and manga and probably has since he was a kid, and when he was 12 or something he accidentally stumbled across a bl manga not knowing what it was. at first he was freaked out bc ?? why are these boys kissing. why are these boys- woah, hey wait. hey wait a second. why am i feeling things. why do i like this.

and boom, juntae the fudanshi is born.

fun. fun. but going deeper, bl manga also being the catalyst for him realising he's gay. he starts buying his favourites and soon has a huge bl manga collection that is actually super meaningful to him because it's his outlet for his queerness that he doesn't get to express elsewhere. and yes he loves baku and gotak and sieun and YES he feels entirely safe with them, but baku and gotak are wrestling each other dudebro straight boys and sieun is emotionally unavailable 99% of the time so even tho he trusts them entirely, he's not sure he's ready to tell them he likes to read abt boys kissing. (and that he'd like to kiss boys too, if any boys were up for it.)

so anyway, he's happily gay and in the closet reading his yaoi, living life, and then everything changes when sieun's friend wakes up.

it's mind boggling to him when he meets the boy in wheelchair, to see with his own eyes the boy they've only heard about in quiet, solemn snatches. he's alive. and holy shit sieun is crying?? oh my god sieun is SMILING???

it takes a while for him to get to know ahn suho properly. the eunjang boys have seen throughout their friendship with sieun how important suho is to him, and think it's probably best if they have their space. they have it for a while, but then a few weeks after suho wakes up sieun tells them suho wants to get to know his friends, so they all nervously crowd into ahn suho's hospital room and introduce themselves.

ahn suho is pale, thin, and looks perpetually tired, but he's alive and he smiles when juntae introduces himself, and juntae's heart aches.

they start accompanying sieun to his suho visits, sometimes all together, sometimes one at a time, and slowly they get to know suho better. one day, it's just sieun and juntae, and while they're sitting with suho talking sieun stands up and says he's going to get them something to eat. juntae immediately panics bc fuck he's never been left alone with suho before?? what if he says something weird?? what if something goes wrong?? but before he can protest sieun has already left the room and it's just the two of them

in an effort to make things less awkward juntae is like, so... how have things been.... and suho immediately goes fucking BORING that's how. and juntae is like ahhhh yeah i can't imagine there's much to do here..

cue suho ranting abt being super bored now that he's gotten so much better and is conscious all day, having nothing to do in between physical therapy. juntae nods along being the empathetic listener he is until he is goes hey maybe i could bring you something? do you like manga?

and suho is like hell yeah i like manga. you got any slam dunk? and even tho his reading taste leans more towards suckin and fuckin than dribbling a ball juntae does have some sports manga sitting at home that gotak lent him so he's like yea! i'll bring it to you

juntae being juntae he doesn't waste time and he's at suho's hospital room the next day with a bag full of mangas like!! hello!! i can't stay but here's the manga you asked for :)) and suho is like damn that was quick thanks juntae.

juntae isn't there when suho goes through what he brought him, finding one manga that doesn't look like it has much to do with sports.

baku and gotak are busy with basketball practice, so the next visit is just juntae and sieun again. the minute they get there suho immediately starts complaining about how he's starving and goes sieun-ah, can you get me some food? plsplssplps. juntae has seen sieun subjected to similar teasing from baku with a 0% success rate, but as he watches sieun is up out of his seat and heading to the cafeteria without another word.

as soon as the door shuts suho turns to juntae with a grave expression on his face.

suho: juntae... i read your manga

juntae: oh!! which ones? did you like them? :D

suho, dramatically pulling the bl manga out of his hospital gown: this one

obviously juntae freaks out immediately and tries to think of an excuse like OMG GDSKJGHDSKG AHH ACTUALLY THAT'S MY SISTER'S I DONT KNOW HOW THAT GOT IN THERE AHAHHA SORRY THAT'S SO AWKWARD but then suho just looks at him dead in the eyes and is like.. can u get me more

and that's how juntae discovers that ahn suho is gay as fuck.

before they can have any real conversation abt it sieun walks in and they both go suspiciously quiet, suho all like ah! sieun-ah! you're back! (not subtle at all) but sieun is sieun so he doesn't press them and they start eating what he got from the cafeteria and talking normally.

the next day, juntae goes to the hospital again. alone.

juntae, slamming open the door to suho's hospital room: U WANT MORE BL??

suho: yea

juntae: WHY???

suho: cause i'm gay

juntae: UR GAY????

suho: yuh

juntae: ME TOO!!!!!

suho: ayo no way!

juntae: YEA :D

suho: :DD did u bring more of that manga with dudes kissing tho

juntae did, in fact, bring more.

like yes this is lowkey a crack hc but it's so cute to imagine juntae and suho having this secret friendship founded on their bl manga book club. juntae being busy with school so they exchange numbers so suho can text him live commentary as he reads and juntae will get texts from him throughout the day like "ayo this shit is fire" and "THEY HELD HANDS" .. and its mostly all fun but as they text more they actually get? super close?? and bc i personally hc suho as knowing he was gay since he was pretty young but not rlly telling anyone its super sweet to imagine him and juntae both finding their first queer friend in each other? like finally having someone to talk to abt stuff like when they first discovered they liked boys, crushes growing up n all that stuff.

juntae admits that suho is the first person he's ever come out to and that nobody else knows he's gay not even sieun and suho tells him that sieun doesn't know he's gay either and juntae is like?? how?? i feel like you guys know everything about eachother and suho is like well yeah it's awkward cause i feel like if i tell him i'm gay i also have to tell him i'm in love with him yk and juntae is like.. you what now..

bc like. he knew. he's not fucking blind, he KNEW there was something queer going on between those two but to have it confirmed so bluntly makes his brain short circuit a little and he immediately goes??? oh my god you have to tell him?? but suho is like ahhh it's complicated... and juntae is like?? HOW?? he literally waited for TWO YEARS for u suho he definitely loves you.. and suho hasn't told anyone this, but as silly as it sounds he's genuinely gotten really close to juntae through the little gay book club thing they have going on that he feels like he can really open up to juntae so he ends up sharing his insecurites abt his condition and still being in the hospital and not wanting to make a move or start something when he's still healing. and juntae is super accepting but assures him that the minute he's ready, sieun will be waiting for him. there's no doubt in his mind that sieun loves him back.

JUST LIKE!! everyone always goes on about suho x baku besties post coma suho x gotak besties but am i crazy if i say i think suho's taste in friends is the quiet ones? like if we look at beomseok and sieun as a pattern i genuinely think juntae would be the one suho would be the closest to among eunjangz aside from sieun, especially if you're like me and look at that connection through a lense of queer solidarity.

AND HOW CUTE IS THAT!! suho and juntae becoming extremely close in private until it inevitably shows outwardly and baku gotak and sieun being absolutely baffled by it?? juntae accidentally dropping in conversation "oh suho told me..." "suho sent me this...." and sieun being like?? since when did you have his number??

and it's so funny to picture sieun being maybe a little bit jealous of their connection bc?? what do they even talk about? how did they get so close?? and trying to be subtle and Not Affected he mentions it to juntae one day offhand like "so how did you and suho get close?" and juntae isnt about to out both of them by saying "he read my bl manga" so he's just like oh you know, we talked. and sieun externally is like, ok cool, but internally just screaming WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU TALK ABT???

(you, sieun. they talk about how suho is in love with you.)

idk, this is a mess. i just think that juntae and suho would be bestfriends and not enough people are talking abt it. if you made it this far you get a cookie (ily)

[starliteonearth]

I'm not sure how some people think Suho can't stomach excessive violence. He's simply disciplined. His ‘don't cross the line’ doesn't necessarily stem from moral discomfort but most likely from being an MMA fighter where you're trained to not accidentally kill your opponent in a fight. Because some of the moves taught can absolutely do that. You need to be well versed in the techniques you're using so you don't break an opponent's limbs or worse, their neck, during a match. Knowing when to stop is a must. Suho's likely applying that very principle to any fights he's in. He has the knowledge, training and foresight to see when an altercation might become fatal. Sieun and Beomseok however, do not. They crashout with no thought given to the possible grave consequences of their violence (seen clearly with Beomseok in episode 7). Suho therefore tries keep them from going too far.