#whcedit

[seolinguk]

sieun we can all see you

[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

[rose24207]

Don’t thank me, thank her

Summary: Seongje’s gentle girlfriend protects timid Juntae from Hyoman, and later, Seongje himself steps in to defend Juntae—showing the Union that for her, he’d do anything.

Geum Seongje x reader

A/N: nothing to add here

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The Union had teeth. Everyone in the city knew that. Their name carried weight, whispered with respect or dread depending on who was speaking. And at the center of that name was Seongje — feared, respected, and unbending. He was the kind of man who made a room fall silent just by walking into it.

And then there was you. His girlfriend.

On paper, it made no sense: you, all warmth and softness, someone who could coax laughter out of even the coldest member of the group; and him, razor-sharp, cold-eyed, a man who trusted no one but you. But somehow, that contrast was exactly why it worked. Where he brought the iron, you brought the silk. Where he froze, you thawed.

And because you were with him, you knew everything about the Union. He didn’t keep secrets from you. He never felt the need to. And though you weren’t blind to the darker parts of their world, you loved him — all of him. Maybe that’s why the other Union boys adored you too. You weren’t naïve, but you were kind to them in ways they rarely experienced. When Seongje’s sharp stare had them stiff and nervous, your gentle smile reminded them that not everyone next to him had to be made of stone.

You were on your way to the bowling alley that night, the familiar neon lights glowing faintly in the distance, when you heard voices down a side street.

“Come on, you really that useless?”

You knew that tone. Sneering, sharp. You slowed, peering around the corner — and your stomach tightened when you saw them.

Hyoman, shoulders hunched like a hyena, had his hand clutched in the collar of a smaller boy. Juntae.

You’d seen him before, a handful of times. He wasn’t Union material, not in the way others were. Too timid, too hesitant, like he carried an apology in every step. And that made him an easy target.

Hyoman shoved him against the wall. “What, you too weak to even talk back? Pathetic.”

Something in you snapped.

“Hyoman.”

Your voice cracked through the air like a whip. The two boys froze, heads turning toward you.

Hyoman’s smirk faltered. “Oh, it’s you.” He tried to recover, straightening up, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. Everyone knew who you were. Seongje’s girlfriend. And Seongje’s girlfriend meant untouchable.

Still, his pride made him sneer. “What, you come to rescue your new little puppy?”

You strode closer, your expression flat, cold. It wasn’t often you let yourself be harsh, but you could when you needed to. And this? This was worth it.

“I don’t like weak men picking on someone smaller than them,” you said, voice sharp. “You think this makes you look strong? It makes you look pathetic. And you know what else it makes you look like?” You tilted your head. “Like someone who will never belong to the Union.”

Hyoman stiffened, his jaw working. He didn’t like the way you said it — not with fear, but with disgust.

“Tch. Whatever. Not worth it,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. But his eyes flicked nervously around, as if expecting Seongje himself to appear any second. And with that fear lodged in his chest, he backed off and left.

You turned immediately to Juntae, softening your expression. “Hey. You okay?”

He hesitated, swallowing hard. His eyes darted to you, then away, as if he wasn’t sure if he should even look directly at you. “Y-Yeah. I… I think so.”

You smiled gently, offering your hand. He blinked at it before slowly taking it, letting you help him steady himself.

“Don’t let him get under your skin,” you said kindly. “Hyoman just likes to bark. That’s all he’s good at. If he tries again, let me know. Or…” you smiled faintly, “better yet, let Seongje know. He wouldn’t even get the chance to touch you.”

Juntae’s eyes widened a little. The idea of Seongje even noticing him — let alone protecting him — seemed surreal. But still, he nodded quickly. “Th-Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

The bowling alley was alive with laughter and chatter when you walked in. The boys immediately perked up when they spotted you.

“Noona!” one of them called, waving.

“You made it!” another grinned.

“Yah, she looks way too good to be here with us,” one teased, earning laughter from the others.

You laughed softly, waving back at them all as you weaved through the crowd. They always greeted you warmly — not out of obligation, but because you were genuinely kind to them. They all saw the way you looked after Seongje, and in turn, after them in little ways.

And then you spotted him.

Seongje sat back against the sofa like a king on his throne, cigarette burning low between his fingers, eyes half-lidded but sharp. The second he saw you, though, his gaze softened. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in the smallest of smiles.

You slid in beside him, nestling into his side. His arm immediately draped over your shoulders, pulling you close.

“You’re late,” he murmured.

“Got caught up.” You tilted your head up at him. “I saw Hyoman on the way.”

His gaze sharpened. “Hyoman?”

“Mm. He was bothering someone. Juntae.”

His brows furrowed. “That kid?”

You nodded, sighing. “He looked terrified. I stepped in, but… I just feel bad for him, Seongje. He doesn’t deserve that.”

He exhaled smoke, watching you closely. You could tell he was turning it over in his mind, weighing it, deciding how much it mattered. To him, Juntae was nothing. Not Union, not worth his time. But to you? It clearly mattered. And for him, that was enough to plant a seed.

“Mm. I’ll keep it in mind,” he murmured.

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

From across the room, one of the boys called out teasingly, “Hyung, you’re so whipped!”

The others burst out laughing, and even you couldn’t help but giggle. Seongje just gave them a flat look, but the faint pink in his ears betrayed him.

“Shut up and bowl,” he muttered, tightening his arm around you as if to prove his point.

When Seongje saw Hyoman again a few days later, shoving Juntae against a wall, he felt irritation pulse through his veins.

He could have walked past. Normally, he would have. Juntae wasn’t his business. Not Union. Not anyone important.

But your voice echoed in his head. He looked terrified. I just feel bad for him, Seongje.

That softness in your eyes, the way you’d pressed closer when you said it — he wanted to keep that look on your face. Always.

So he stepped in.

“Hyoman.”

The name cut through the air. Hyoman froze, hands dropping from Juntae’s shirt as if burned.

Seongje’s stare was ice cold. “Still picking on someone weaker than you? That’s the only way you feel strong?”

“Hyung—I was just—”

His fist cracked across Hyoman’s face before he could finish. Blood sprayed. Hyoman stumbled, clutching his jaw.

“You think you’re tough?” Seongje stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “You’re nothing.”

Hyoman glared, but fear swam beneath it. “Why do you even care? He’s not Union!”

Seongje’s lips curled into a smirk, sharp and dangerous. “Because my girl cares.” His voice dropped. “And that’s enough for me.”

Another punch, harder this time. Hyoman collapsed against the wall, groaning. When he scrambled away, it wasn’t with bravado — it was with fear.

Silence lingered.

Juntae stood frozen, trembling, eyes wide. He looked at Seongje like he wasn’t sure whether to run or bow.

“...You okay?” Seongje finally asked.

Juntae nodded quickly, words tripping over themselves. “Y-Yes, thank you. I—”

“Don’t thank me,” Seongje cut him off. “Thank her.” He shoved his hands back in his pockets and walked off, leaving Juntae trembling but safe.

Inside, though, he thought of you. Of your smile when he told you. Of the way your face would light up because he’d done something that mattered to you. And that thought alone made his fists ache less.

That night, when he came home, you were curled on the couch, waiting for him.

“You’re still awake?” he asked softly, leaning down to kiss your temple.

“Couldn’t sleep without you,” you murmured, tugging him down beside you.

He watched you for a moment, then said, “Saw Juntae today.”

Your eyes widened. “You did?”

“Hyoman was on him again. I took care of it.”

You blinked, processing. “You… you did that for me?”

“Of course.” He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. “You wanted him safe. That’s enough.”

Your heart swelled, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes. “I love you.”

He kissed you, slow and certain. “I’d do anything for you. Don’t ever forget that.”

And in his arms, you knew he meant every word.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ladyoflynx, @cmleitora, @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane, @stxr-lilac, @geumseongjelicker, @itzzezraa, @night-fall-moon, @niggette, @martynka1, @intoanothermind, @hadesnumber1daughter, @barbara12372

[phuwins]

You’re a total psycho, you know that? Look who’s talking.

Park Jihoon as Yeon Sieun & Choi Hyunwook as An Suho WEAK HERO CLASS 1 (2022)

[juliettejwnewinesa]

BAKU VER OF 💦 "you came on my lap?" PLSPLSPLSPLSPLS

You came on my lap?

hyuntak version su-ho version sieun version seongjae version yeongbin version wooyoung version beomseok version

pairing: humin x fem!reader tags: suggestive content, clothed grinding, accidental orgasm, teasing, dom!humin undertones, lap sitting, kissing, tension, soft smut, aftermath, implied smut continuation word count: ~1.2k ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t supposed to go this far.

You were just messing around, lounging sideways across Humin’s lap while he absentmindedly scrolled through his phone. His hand was resting on your thigh, barely paying you any mind—and that was the problem.

You were wearing nothing under his oversized t-shirt but panties, and he was in loose joggers. It should’ve been nothing. Should’ve stayed playful.

But he wasn’t paying attention, and you were in the mood to change that.

You shifted in his lap slowly, like it was innocent. Adjusting your position. Resettling.

Except… you did it again. This time pressing down.

Humin didn’t look up.

“You’re ignoring me,” you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you turned toward him. “Rude.”

“I’m not ignoring you,” he replied, still looking at his screen, but his voice had changed—lower, rougher. “You’re just being annoying.”

You rolled your hips deliberately once more, slow and heavy against the growing outline beneath his sweats. “Still annoying?”

His hand tightened around your thigh. The phone disappeared somewhere behind him.

He looked at you finally—eyes low-lidded, mouth slightly parted, like he was already imagining how this would end.

“You trying to get me hard or something?”

You smiled sweetly. “Are you saying I’m succeeding?”

His gaze dropped to where your hips were pressing down into his lap. The tension in his jaw said enough.

You kissed him before he could say anything else. Lazy. Testing. Like you were still pretending this wasn’t what you wanted.

But Humin didn’t play half-games.

He kissed you back hard, tongue pushing past your lips, hand sliding up your back to hold you down firmly against him. The pressure made you shiver, the way his cock pressed thick against you through both layers of fabric—hot and heavy.

You grinded on him again. And again. The slow friction of cotton against cotton sent a pulse of heat straight through your gut.

"You're so warm," you whispered, dazed, already feeling the ache build between your thighs.

He smirked. "You started this. Don’t act shy now."

You weren’t shy. You were desperate.

Every roll of your hips made it worse—more sensitive, more raw. Your panties were soaked through, dragging against the soft cotton of his joggers, and the contact was maddening.

"Keep going, baby," he muttered, hand splayed over your lower back now. "If you wanna get yourself off on my lap so bad, I won’t stop you."

You whimpered, pace stuttering for just a second. His voice in your ear made your stomach twist.

“You like that?” he murmured. “Grinding like a little slut, soaking through your panties just from a kiss?”

Your thighs clenched. Your nails dug into his shoulders.

You didn’t mean to fall apart so fast—but your body wasn’t listening. The heat coiled tighter. Every little thrust against him made your clit throb, your breath catch.

“I—Humin—”

He felt it the moment you snapped.

You gasped—high-pitched and quiet, body shivering as you came right there in his lap, your thighs trembling, cunt pulsing helplessly through the cotton of your ruined panties. You buried your face in his neck, fingers clinging to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you together.

He was so still beneath you—until a slow, knowing chuckle rumbled through his chest.

“…You came?”

You didn’t answer.

“Baby,” he said, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “did you just cum on me without even getting undressed?”

You groaned and tried to hide again. His hand gripped your waist, holding you there.

“Oh my god, you did.” He laughed softly, dark and absolutely delighted. “That’s crazy. You were trying to tease me, but you’re the one who couldn’t take it.”

You huffed. “Shut up.”

But Humin leaned in close, teeth grazing your jaw. “Nah. I like knowing I can make you cum like that.”

You shivered again.

And just when you thought it was over—when your body was still wrung out and trembling in his lap—he shifted underneath you, cock still hard and twitching.

“Now sit still,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous. “Because I’m not letting you get up until I’ve ruined you for real.”

[divineandmajesticinone]

LOVE AND LEASHES (2022) WEAK HERO CLASS 2 (2025)

[parkjihoonswifey]

oh beom-seok and popular girl? 🫶🏻

A/N: He's such a cutie I hate what he did :(

Title: Little Miss Popular

Pairings: Oh Beom-seok x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Sexual Content (it felt right), kissing, idk what else.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Beom-seok had always figured girls like you dated boys with easy smiles and louder laughs. Boys who didn’t flinch at affection or worry that love was a trap waiting to be sprung. You, with your shiny lip gloss and sunshine laugh, with hands always touching someone—braiding your friends hair here, a hug there—your life looked like it belonged in a movie.

His looked like CCTV footage.

You were the type of girl who walked down the hallway and made people look. Not because you tried—just because you were. Pretty, popular, always with a few friends orbiting you like satellites. The type to plan parties, Carry a cup with you everywhere, and post photo dumps on Instagram with captions like “this night felt like a movie”.

He was the boy in the background of those photos. But somehow, you saw him.

“You don’t talk much, huh?” you said the first time you really spoke to him. Beom-seok hadn’t even realized you were talking to him at first. His shoulders tensed as he looked up from his phone. “...Not really.” You smiled like that didn’t scare you. “That’s okay. I talk enough for two. I think it's kinda cute.”

And it started like that. You in the cafeteria—sliding into the seat across from him, a little too bright for the dull fluorescent light. Him, heart hammering every time you leaned in, every time you touched his arm when you laughed.

He didn’t understand why you kept choosing him. When your phone buzzed with party invites and friends wanted you at karaoke nights, you always texted: “Wanna come?” He usually said no. You usually show up at his place with takeout instead of going.

You’d kick off your shoes like you lived there, flop onto his floor with food, and talk about all the chaos in your life.

“Everyone thinks I have it perfect,” you said once, digging through your food. “But you’d be surprised how lonely being liked by everyone is.” Beom-seok had looked at you, blinking. Because how could you feel anything less than adored?

“Sometimes,” you continued, eyes soft, “I feel like no one actually knows me. But you look at me like you see me.” He didn’t know what to say. So he just said the truth.

“I do.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Dating you was like learning how to breathe underwater.

Everything in Beom-seok’s life was sharp, cold, and too quiet. His father’s footsteps down the hall still made his stomach flip. His own silence was a survival tactic, not a choice.

But you held his hand like it was worth holding. You hugged him like he was worth hugging. You loved him like he was worth loving. You dragged him into sunlight. You introduced him to your friends—though most raised eyebrows. Some asked "Why him?"

But you answered every time:

“Because he makes me feel safe.”

“Because he listens.”

“Because he’s real.”

"Because he loves me."

And Beom-seok didn’t say it, but he thought it constantly: Because you make me feel human. Like he wasn’t broken. Like he could be more than what his past tried to shape him into.

Of course, it wasn’t easy.

Once, he overheard someone say you were “wasting time” dating him.

Another time, he saw a rumor online that he was just a rebound. It tore at the parts of him he tried to hide. He distanced himself. Stopped replying to texts. Started skipping school.

You showed up at his house, eyes glassy with frustration and worry. “Why are you pushing me away?” you demanded. “Is it because of what people are saying?”

Beom-seok didn’t answer. “Do you not want to be with me anymore?” He looked at you—really looked at you—and it cracked his chest open.

“No,” he said. “I want to be with you so much it scares me.” You exhaled, a breath caught between a laugh and a cry.

“You idiot. I chose you. I keep choosing you. Let me love you, even if it’s hard—especially when it’s hard.” And Beom-seok—for the first time in a long time—let himself be loved.

Sometimes he still wonders how a girl made of sparkles and attention fell for someone like him. But then you smile at him like he hung the moon.

You paint his nails with pink polish and kiss his scars like they aren’t ugly, and he thinks maybe broken boys and golden girls can love each other after all.

Even if they come from different worlds—even if it’s messy. Because your love is the first thing he’s ever had that felt real, and he’d die for that.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sex started slow, like everything with Beom-seok. Your first kiss was 3 months into the relationship, Your first makeout not long after. Each time you initiated something intimate, he thought it was a joke—pushing away until he remembered you were his. Only his, no one else's.

You were curled up on his bed, legs tangled with his, head on his chest. You were watching something on TV, some action movie. His fingers absentmindedly brushed your waist under your hoodie—his hoodie. He never wore it anymore. You'd practically claimed it the day you started dating.

He was quiet, like always. With you, Beom-seok didn’t feel the need to talk much. You understood the language of looks, of touch. And right now, he was looking at you—eyes low, hands warmer than usual, breath slowing like he was trying not to do something reckless.

You noticed—leaned in closer, lips brushing his jaw. “You’re thinking about me,” you murmured. He stiffened for a second. But then his hand gripped your waist tighter. “Yeah,” he whispered, voice rough, hands shaky. He's a virgin, of course. He kissed you like you were something he wasn’t supposed to have. Like every second might be his last. He barely touched you in public, and carefully in private. He never even thought too much about sex, always figured no one wanted that with him.

His eyes met yours, a beauty that hid beyond his glasses. “You always look at me like I’m gonna disappear,” you said softly.

Beom-seok looked at you—really looked at you. His eyes saddened a bit. “People like you don’t usually stay with people like me.”

"Oh, baby." You flipped onto your back, pulling him with you until he hovered above you—hand placed beside your head, shakily keeping himself up. He's breath caught, surprised by the boldness—it made him feel excited. His breath was erratic as you grabbed his glasses, pulling them off his face slowly, placing them on his dresser. “Then let me show you how long I’m staying.”

His hoodie came off you first, and the look on his face when he saw you—only in your bra, thighs pressing together—was starstruck. His fingers traced your skin like you were porcelain.

“You’re so..” He shook his head, biting his lip. “I don’t deserve this.”

Your hands reached up to cup his face. "You deserve this—You deserve me. You've been the best boyfriend ever. Popular or not, You're mine and I'm yours."

You felt his hips slowly rock into yours. He maintained eye contact as he rutted himself into you, small groans leaving his lips. his eyes started to water, "I love you," he whispered. You pulled him into a kiss, breaking only for air.

"I love you," you said, your foreheads pressed together.

He was hesitant at first. Careful. Like he thought he'd break you. But when you guided his hands, when you kissed him like you knew what you were doing, Beom-seok started giving in. He felt comfortable— he trusted you. His hands got bolder. His kisses, messier. His grip on your hips, tighter.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your collarbone, lips hot and wet. “I’ll do anything.” You smiled, breath hitching.

“I want you. All of you.”

The dam broke.

Clothes scattered on the floor. His mouth on your chest, down your stomach, reverent and shaky. And when he finally slid inside you, eyes locked to yours, the gasp that left his throat was the rawest sound you'd ever heard from him.

“Fuck—” he whispered. “You feel like—like I don't deserve to feel this.”

“You do,” you breathed, arms around his neck. “You do.”

Beom-seok moved slowly at first, careful. But when you pulled his hair and moaned in his ear, something shifted. He fucked you like he needed to prove something. That he could love you right. That he could make you feel him. That you’d never look at anyone else the way you looked at him now—flushed, messy, adored.

His hand slid between you, fingers searching for your clit. When he finds it, your back arches hard.

“That’s it,” he said, voice shaking, hands trembling like he was scared to feel the pleasure. “Take it. Take all of me.”

You let go with his name in your throat.

And he followed soon after, lips on your shoulder, hands gripping your waist like an anchor.

Afterward, you lay tangled in sweat and kisses.

“I think I fell in love with you a little more tonight,” you whispered.

Beom-seok blinked, cheeks still pink. “Me too."

You grinned. “Good.”

A/N: I actually really love this but lemme know what you guys think cause that's what really matters!

[lattekims]

Na Baekjin. Are you all right?