• groups I stan : (LONGG list btw) stray kids, enha, ateez, lngshot, cortis, ONE OR EIGHT, Keyvitup, KICKFLIP, illit, kiikii, twice, itzy, red velvet, p1harmony, svt, shinee, got7, nct (all), boynextdoor, bts, youngpossee, new jeans, txt, xixers, &TEAM, le sserafim, daily:direction, LOOSEMBLE MY BABIES, baby monster, nmixx ! !
I lovvvveeee writing fluff idk abt yall, but also angst! I’m not too big on smut, but I LOVE reading it! I hope to have a lot of followers later tho 👀
I’ll mostly write smut for, kdramas(LEGAL ppl), and older groups like enha and skz! I hate smut for -18 ppl, bc that’s so weird tf?? but do what you want ig 💔💔💔
the groups/dramas I’ll write about is skz, enha, cortis, lngshot, and weakhero, aouad.
THATS IT!! im still confused on how ppl use tumblr and like the inbox thing but ITS OK! pls request in comments !!
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𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── juhoon plays in the world cup final when he saw you wearing his jersey and his whole confidence boosted
★ bf ! juhoon × fem!reader
word count ── 4.2k
˖᯽ ݁˖ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 coco speaking here! sadly korea didn’t win against mexico BUT THATS OKAY 😔😔😔 maybe in another life korea wins in the final like my fic LMAOAOA i just thought about this because juhoon is a really good soccer/football player HEHEHEHE HOPE YOU ENJOY 𖧧 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
The stadium roared with a magnitude that felt almost otherworldly.
The deafening chorus of thousands reverberated through your entire body, vibrating beneath your feet and rattling the metal railing gripped tightly in your hands. Every corner of the arena pulsed with anticipation, emotion, and national pride.
A vast ocean of red and white stretched endlessly before you. Flags billowed dramatically in the evening air. Supporters leaped from their seats. Strangers embraced. Children sat atop their parents’ shoulders, waving banners larger than themselves.
The atmosphere was electric—so charged with excitement that even breathing felt difficult. This wasn’t simply a football match, this was history unfolding before your eyes.
The World Cup Final.
The culmination of years of sacrifice, relentless training sessions, devastating defeats, miraculous victories, and impossible dreams, and somewhere amidst the brilliant floodlights illuminating the pitch stood your boyfriend.
Kim Juhoon, wearing a Number 7 Jersey. Captain of South Korea. The man who carried the hopes of an entire nation upon his shoulders.
From your seat high in the stands, you could still pick him out immediately. There was something unmistakable about him. The quiet confidence in his posture, the sharp determination etched into his features, the captain’s armband wrapped securely around his bicep, the way he stood taller than everyone around him despite being surrounded by world-class athletes.
He looked composed, focused, ready. At least until his gaze wandered toward the crowd, toward you.
The moment his eyes landed on your figure, he visibly froze completely, utterly. For a brief second, the chaos of the stadium seemed to disappear from his perspective, because you were wearing his jersey.
Not merely a national team jersey, not a replica purchased from a merchandise stand. His jersey.
The exact one he had carefully folded and handed to you after practice months ago. The same jersey he’d insisted would look adorable on you. The same jersey he’d repeatedly begged you to wear, and the same jersey you had stubbornly refused every single time.
It had always felt embarrassing. Too obvious, too couple-like, too revealing of your relationship to the millions of people who watched him.
Yet today was different, today was the biggest day of his career. The most important match he would ever play, and if there was ever a moment to support him without hesitation, it was now.
The oversized fabric draped over your frame, the sleeves extending nearly to your forearms. His surname stretched proudly across your back. His number adorned the front. A silent declaration that made your cheeks warm when ever you looked down.
Yet the reaction it provoked from Juhoon was far more dramatic than you’d anticipated. Even from across the enormous field, you could see the exact moment his brain stopped functioning.
His eyes widened noticeably, his lips parted. The confident captain who had moments earlier looked prepared to conquer the world suddenly resembled a teenager experiencing his first crush.
A delicate blush climbed steadily up his neck, then to his ears, then across his cheeks. You had never seen him turn red that quickly before.
The sight nearly made you laugh, and then it became worse, much worse.
One of his teammates noticed. The player followed Juhoon’s line of sight. His eyes landed on you, specifically on the jersey.
His expression transformed instantly. A grin spread across his face, and he smacked Juhoon’s shoulder hard.
Juhoon stumbled slightly. Another teammate noticed, then another, then another. Within seconds, half the starting lineup seemed aware of the situation.
Several players turned around to locate you in the crowd. The moment they spotted Juhoon’s name displayed proudly across your chest, their reactions became merciless.
One player doubled over laughing. Another wrapped an arm around Juhoon’s shoulders. A third pointed dramatically in your direction while shouting something that made the entire group erupt into laughter.
Juhoon looked absolutely mortified. You could practically see him debating whether to disappear into the grass. Unable to resist, you lifted your hand and offered him a small wave.
The worst possible decision. His expression somehow became even redder. A feat you hadn’t believed was physically achievable.
The captain of South Korea, the man trusted to lead an entire nation. Reduced to complete embarrassment by a single oversized jersey.
Cute, dangerously cute.
For a fleeting moment, his eyes softened. The overwhelming noise of the stadium faded into the background. The pressure, the cameras, the expectations. Everything seemed to disappear, there was only you, standing in the crowd.
His lips curled upward into the faintest smile. One reserved exclusively for you. Then the referee’s whistle pierced through the atmosphere.
The match had begun, and in the blink of an eye, the shy, flustered boyfriend vanished. What remained was Captain Juhoon.
A man determined to bring home a World Cup, and judging by the fire igniting behind his eyes as he sprinted across the pitch, you suddenly had a feeling that wearing his jersey had given him far more confidence than either of you had expected.
You had watched Juhoon play more times than you could possibly count.
From small youth tournaments where barely a hundred spectators filled the stands, to professional league matches broadcast across the country.
You had witnessed victories, heartbreaking defeats, championship celebrations. Moments where exhaustion nearly brought him to his knees.
You knew the rhythm of his movements better than anyone. The slight tilt of his head before making a pass. The determined set of his jaw whenever he became focused. The calculated precision behind every decision he made on the field.
But this?
This was entirely different. The man currently commanding the pitch barely resembled the boyfriend who spent his evenings curled up beside you on the couch.
Tonight, he looked extraordinary. There was an unmistakable ferocity radiating from him. An almost magnetic confidence that drew everyone’s attention whenever he touched the ball.
It was as though every ounce of pressure, expectation, and responsibility resting upon his shoulders had transformed into pure determination.
He wasn’t simply participating in the match, he was dominating it. Every movement appeared deliberate, every decision seemed flawless.
The ball obeyed him as if attached by an invisible thread. His passes sliced through defensive lines with surgical precision. His footwork was elegant yet devastatingly effective.
Each sprint down the field left defenders scrambling desperately in his wake, even the world’s best players struggled to keep pace with him.
The crowd reacted to his every touch, a collective gasp, a thunderous cheer, an eruption of applause. The stadium seemed to pulse in time with his performance.
And the commentators? They could hardly contain their admiration. His name echoed repeatedly through the speakers overhead, praise followed praise.
They analyzed his leadership, his composure, his vision, his ability to elevate everyone around him. At some point, it felt less like a World Cup Final and more like a showcase of Captain Juhoon.
He was everywhere, directing teammates with sharp gestures, tracking back to recover possession, launching attacks, creating opportunities seemingly out of thin air. A true captain in every sense of the word. The embodiment of leadership, the heart of the team.
And when South Korea secured their second goal, the stadium nearly collapsed from the force of the celebration.
The ball struck the back of the net. The crowd exploded, a deafening roar surged through the arena. Flags waved wildly, fans leaped from their seats, some screamed, others cried. Complete strangers threw their arms around one another in celebration.
The noise was indescribable, yet somehow, amidst all that chaos, Juhoon’s attention immediately sought only one thing.
You.
While his teammates rushed toward him in celebration, he turned, almost instinctively. His gaze swept across thousands upon thousands of spectators. Until he found you.
The moment his eyes locked onto yours, something softened in his expression, just for a second. Then a grin spread across his face, completely breathtaking. Before you could process what he was doing—He pointed directly at you. Your heart nearly stopped.
No… Absolutely not.
There were over eighty thousand people in attendance. Millions more watching from around the world. Surely he wasn’t—
The stadium cameras followed his gesture. Your stomach dropped. A collective murmur swept through the audience, then suddenly—Your face appeared on the colossal screen suspended above the field. Larger than life, impossible to miss.
The realization hit you all at once. The jersey, his jersey. His name displayed proudly across your chest. His number, his team, his unmistakable connection to you.
Thousands of people noticed instantly. The reaction was immediate. Entire sections of supporters erupted into cheers. Some pointed excitedly toward the screen, others laughed knowingly. A few fans even began chanting his name louder than before.
Your face burned with mortification. Heat flooded your cheeks so quickly you were convinced the entire stadium could see it. You briefly considered disappearing into your seat forever, or perhaps fleeing the country. Either option seemed reasonable.
Meanwhile, the source of your embarrassment stood proudly in the center of the field, completely unapologetic, completely shameless.
Juhoon looked downright pleased with himself. The grin stretching across his face was insufferably smug, the kind of grin that said he knew exactly what he had done, and as he jogged backward toward his position, still maintaining eye contact with you for one final second, his expression carried a silent message.
One that made your heart flutter despite your embarrassment.
Mine.
The cockiest man alive, and somehow, infuriatingly enough—The most lovable one too.
South Korea won.
3–2.
World Champions.
For a fraction of a second, the world seemed to fall silent. The referee’s final whistle sliced through the night air, sharp and unmistakable, signaling the conclusion of ninety minutes that would forever be etched into football history.
Everything stopped, as if time itself had hesitated. The players froze, the crowd held its breath, even you found yourself unable to move. Unable to think, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.
Then reality crashed over the stadium like a tidal wave. Pandemonium erupted, the deafening roar that followed was unlike anything you had ever experienced. It wasn’t merely cheering, it was jubilation, relief, disbelief.
The collective release of decades worth of hopes, dreams, and prayers. The sound was so overwhelming it vibrated through your bones. It swallowed every other noise whole.
Around the pitch, emotions burst forth without restraint. Several players collapsed onto the grass, their legs finally giving out after carrying them through the most important match of their lives.
Others fell to their knees, hands covering tear-streaked faces. Some sprinted aimlessly across the field, screaming at the top of their lungs. A few simply stood motionless, staring at the scoreboard as if they needed visual confirmation that this wasn’t some elaborate dream.
The magnitude of the achievement was almost impossible to comprehend. South Korea… World Champions. The words felt surreal, unbelievable, historic.
Above the stadium, enormous confetti cannons detonated with thunderous force. Thousands upon thousands of crimson and silver fragments exploded into the night sky before drifting downward like shimmering snowfall.
The dazzling pieces caught beneath the floodlights, transforming the air into a glittering spectacle. Streams of color spiraled through the atmosphere. Fireworks illuminated the darkness overhead. Flags waved furiously from every section of the stands. Supporters embraced complete strangers.
Many openly wept, others laughed through their tears. The entire stadium had become a living, breathing celebration, yet amidst all the chaos surrounding you, your attention remained fixed on one person.
Juhoon.
Your vision blurred before you even realized tears had begun slipping down your cheeks. You hastily wiped at them. More appeared, then more.
The overwhelming emotion settled heavily in your chest, because this wasn’t merely a victory. It was the culmination of everything.
Every sacrifice.
Every setback, every impossible challenge he had endured. You remembered the countless mornings he woke before sunrise for training.
The exhausting schedules, the months spent away from home, the injuries that left him frustrated and unable to play, the nights where self-doubt crept into his mind despite his best efforts to hide it, the pressure placed upon him as captain, the expectations of teammates, the scrutiny of the media, the weight of an entire nation’s hopes resting upon his shoulders.
You had witnessed every chapter of the journey. The triumphant moments, the painful ones, the days where exhaustion clung to him so heavily he could barely keep his eyes open, the evenings where he sat beside you quietly, wondering if he was doing enough. If he was good enough, if all of it would eventually be worth it.
And now—You had your answer.
Standing in the center of the pitch, surrounded by flashing cameras and euphoric teammates, was the man who had refused to quit.
The man who had dedicated years of his life to chasing a dream that many deemed impossible. The captain who carried his team through the biggest tournament in the world. The boy who once practiced alone for hours after everyone else had gone home. The athlete who sacrificed comfort, sleep, and certainty for a chance at greatness.
And somehow, despite the confetti cascading around him and tens of thousands of supporters chanting his name, Juhoon’s gaze wandered toward the stands, toward you.
Even from a distance, you saw the exact moment he found you, his expression softened. The triumphant grin on his face faltered for just a second. His eyes glistened beneath the stadium lights.
Suddenly, he no longer looked like a global superstar, or a World Cup-winning captain, or the hero of an entire nation. He simply looked like Juhoon.
Your Juhoon.
Overwhelmed, emotional, happy beyond words. The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile so genuine it made your chest ache.
A smile that carried years of perseverance behind it. Years of resilience, years of unwavering determination, and as chants of his name reverberated throughout the stadium, one thought echoed louder than everything else.
He had done it against every obstacle. Against every expectation, against every doubt. Juhoon had reached the summit of the footballing world.
And now, beneath a sky filled with confetti and celebration, he stood exactly where he had always dreamed of being.
A World Cup champion.
The celebration seemed endless after, not that anyone was complaining. After all, moments like these didn’t happen every day.
History had just been written beneath the brilliant glow of stadium floodlights, and everyone wanted a piece of it.
The pitch had transformed into a whirlwind of activity, players moved from one obligation to another without a moment to breathe, broadcast crews swarmed every corner of the field.
Reporters fought for interviews, photographers captured thousands of images from every conceivable angle, television cameras followed the champions relentlessly, documenting each tearful embrace and triumphant smile.
The festivities unfolded in a dazzling blur. There were speeches, award presentations, medal ceremonies, team photographs, commemorative videos projected across enormous screens, corporate sponsors requesting appearances, officials offering congratulations, former players shaking hands, fans chanting from every section of the stadium.
The atmosphere remained euphoric long after the match had ended. At one point, you watched as Juhoon disappeared beneath a crowd of teammates celebrating around him.
A few minutes later, he reappeared holding the World Cup trophy high above his head while tens of thousands erupted into thunderous applause.
Then he vanished again, pulled away by reporters. Then by photographers, then by officials, then by another wave of teammates determined to celebrate all over again.
Every time you caught sight of him, he seemed to be somewhere new. Standing on a stage, posing for cameras, giving an interview, laughing with teammates, accepting congratulations.
The captain of the newly crowned world champions had suddenly become the most sought-after person in the stadium.
You understood. Of course you did, tonight wasn’t about you. It was his night, his team’s night, his country’s night. You figured it would be hours before you’d get a chance to speak to him properly.
Maybe after the press conference, maybe after the trophy presentation. Possibly not until everyone returned to the hotel. The thought made sense, disappointing, perhaps. But realistic.
So you remained in your seat, occasionally watching highlights replay across the giant screens while supporters continued singing throughout the arena.
The oversized jersey draped around your frame still carried his name across the back. A small smile tugged at your lips.
World Champion.
The title still felt surreal.
Your gaze drifted toward the field once more. Somewhere amidst the sea of cameras and flashing lights was Juhoon. You wondered if he’d even had a moment to process everything.
Whether he’d managed to catch his breath, or reality had fully settled in for him yet.
Your thoughts were interrupted by the sudden vibration of your phone. You glanced down absentmindedly. The screen illuminated your face, and immediately, your heart skipped.
Juhoon ♡
A smile appeared before you’d even opened the message.
Tunnel behind Section C.
A second notification appeared almost instantly.
Now.
You blinked once, then laughed softly to yourself. Of course. The entire world wanted a piece of him tonight, the media, the fans, the photographers. Yet somehow, the first chance he found to escape—He was looking for you.
Your chest warmed instantly, because no matter how many cameras followed him…
The person he wanted to see first was still you, and judging by the urgency of those messages—Your boyfriend was getting impatient.
The tunnel behind Section C was astonishingly quiet compared to the spectacle unfolding elsewhere in the stadium.
The deafening celebrations that had consumed the arena moments earlier were now little more than distant echoes reverberating through concrete walls.
Muffled cheers drifted faintly from above. Occasional bursts of applause filtered through the corridors. Somewhere in the distance, supporters were still singing, still celebrating, still reveling in the fact that South Korea had become world champions.
Although down here, hidden beneath the stadium, everything felt strangely intimate, private, like a small sanctuary carved out from the chaos.
The fluorescent lights overhead cast a soft glow across the empty passageway as you followed the directions from Juhoon’s message.
Your footsteps echoed gently against the concrete floor. The oversized jersey shifted against your frame with every step. The realization still felt surreal.
World Champion.
Your boyfriend was a World Champion.
The thought hadn’t fully settled in your mind before a familiar voice suddenly cut through your thoughts. “Baby.”
The sound of it immediately made your heart flutter. You barely had enough time to look up. One moment the corridor was empty.
The next—Juhoon appeared from around the corner, and launched himself at you.
“Juhoon—!” A startled laugh escaped you as his arms wrapped securely around your waist.
The impact nearly sent you stumbling backward. Had he not tightened his grip immediately, you were fairly certain both of you would’ve ended up sprawled across the floor.
Not that he seemed concerned, not when he buried his face directly into the crook of your neck, or when he practically folded himself around you. He held onto you as though he hadn’t seen you in months rather than a few hours.
You felt the warmth radiating from him instantly. His skin was still heated from the match. His damp hair brushed softly against your jaw. The faint scent of grass, sweat, and expensive cologne lingered around him. Even now, long after the final whistle, his breathing remained uneven from adrenaline.
Then, you felt him laugh. The vibration travelled directly through your skin, warm, affectionate. “Hello, beautiful.” The words came out muffled against your neck.
You couldn’t help smiling. “Hello to you too.”
Juhoon only squeezed you tighter, if that was even possible. For several seconds he simply remained there, arms securely around your waist, seemingly unwilling to let go, as though the moment he released you, someone might drag him back toward another interview.
Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at you, and immediately froze again. His gaze dropped to the jersey, then slowly traveled upward, then back down.
A disbelieving smile spread across his face, “I still can’t believe you wore my jersey.” His voice carried an unmistakable sincerity.
You rolled your eyes. “It’s just a jersey.”
The reaction you received was immediate. Juhoon’s hands rose to cradle your cheeks firmly.“No.” His eyebrows furrowed. “It is absolutely not just a jersey.”
You laughed. “Juhoon—”
“No, listen.” His dark eyes scanned over you with unwavering attention.
The oversized sleeves nearly covering your hands. The number stretched across your torso. His surname displayed proudly across the fabric. His expression softened with every passing second. “You have no idea what that did to me.”
Heat instantly rushed to your face. You hated how easily he could make you flustered. “You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Baby.” The corners of his lips twitched upward. “That time, I almost forgot how to breathe.”
You groaned. “Okay it’s not that serious.”
“I’m serious.” His thumbs brushed gently across your cheeks. “When I saw you in the stands wearing my name?” A smile tugged at his lips. “I genuinely thought my heart stopped.”
“That definitely didn’t happen.”
“It did.”
“It didn’t.”
“It absolutely did.”
You laughed despite yourself. The triumphant grin that appeared on his face suggested he considered that a victory, then, without hesitation, he pointed toward the field behind him.
“I scored because of you.”
Your jaw dropped. “Okay you’re just lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You trained for years for this.”
“Wrong.”
“Juhoon.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“You’ve been preparing for this tournament since you were a teenager.”
He shook his head, completely unconvinced. “Nope.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
The smile stretching across his face became increasingly insufferable. “The second I saw you wearing my jersey, I knew I was winning.”
You stared at him speechless. “That’s not how football works.”
“It is…” His hands slid from your cheeks to your waist. Pulling you closer until there was barely any distance separating the two of you. “When you have a motivation
You snorted.n“Your big jersey was your motivation?”
“My beautiful girlfriend wearing my jersey was my motivation.”
His gaze softened, becoming infinitely more affectionate. He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The cocky smile never fully disappeared, but there was something undeniably tender beneath it.
“I just wanted to make you proud.”
Juhoon’s arms found their way around your waist once more, as though he simply couldn’t help himself, after spending hours surrounded by reporters, cameras, and countless people demanding his attention, the only place he truly wanted to be was here, with you.
He gently tugged you forward, closer. Until scarcely any distance remained between the two of you.
Despite everything he had endured throughout the evening—the pressure, the expectations, the overwhelming celebrations—his eyes remained fixed entirely on you.
The triumphant energy that had carried him through ninety minutes on the pitch gradually faded. In its place came something softer.
His expression relaxed. The sharp determination that had defined him throughout the match disappeared completely, replaced by an almost unbearable fondness.
For a moment, he simply stared, taking his time, studying every detail. The oversized sleeves draped over your hands. The jersey hanging loosely against your frame. His surname stretched proudly across the fabric.
The sight seemed to render him momentarily speechless, a quiet laugh escaped him.
“God.” His thumb swept gently across your cheek. The gesture was absentminded, instinctive, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
“So pretty.”
Heat immediately crept into your face. You rolled your eyes. “Stop.”
His smile only widened, the kind of smile that always meant trouble, that appeared whenever he discovered something capable of making you flustered. “So pretty.”
“Juhoon.”
“My girl looked beautiful wearing my name.” The words were delivered with such sincerity that your stomach performed an embarrassing somersault.
You hated that reaction, especially because he noticed it immediately. His eyes brightened with amusement. The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
There it was, that infuriatingly smug expression, self-satisfied. Entirely aware of the effect he had on you, the expression reserved exclusively for moments like this. “Aww.”
You groaned dramatically. “No.”
“Look at you.” His voice dropped lower, becoming teasingly gentle.” “So shy.”
You immediately shook your head. “I’m not shy.”
“Baby.” His eyebrows lifted. “You absolutely are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Stop being stubborn.”
“Just don’t hide yourself beautiful,”
Your hands instantly flew to your cheeks. Juhoon’s laugh echoed through the corridor, entirely too pleased with himself.
“You checked.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I was proving a point.”
“You proved mine.”
You groaned again, the grin on his face became almost unbearable.mWorld Champion, national hero, and somehow still the most annoying person you’d ever met.
Juhoon leaned forward slightly, reducing the distance between the two of you even further. His forehead came to rest lightly against yours.
The simple gesture immediately quieted the conversation. Everything slowed, the distant celebrations, the lingering excitement, the overwhelming chaos of the evening.
For a brief moment, it felt as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
His smile softened. “You’re so cute.”
You shoved his shoulder weakly. The motion lacked any real conviction, mostly because you were fighting your own smile, and partially because Juhoon didn’t move an inch.
If anything, he looked even more delighted. “My favorite girl.”
“Juhoon….”
“What? I just love showing off my girl.”
You immediately looked away, his laughter followed almost instantly, entirely captivated.
And judging from the way he continued looking at you, one might have assumed he had just won something far more important than the World Cup.
summary : Martin has never been good with others, but music? Best friends. He could‘ve sworn he didn‘t need a tutor, but.. y/n was there. They helped him actually learn something. but one night.. martin and his father got in a HUGE fight. A few “you’re a disgrace!” And “get the fuck out of my house!” Was thrown around, and he had no one else but y/n to go too.
hubba bubba chewing gum OMG I’m going insane I said I would never like him but like bro 💔💔 Hea so awkward aw aw no I can’t like him so I’m just gonna Stop 💔💔
PT . 01 - 02 - 03 - 04
warning : use of y/n!! You don’t like it, pls scroll!!
can you guess who was always in the music room? the same person who was blaring his electric guitar like it was something he needed? martin edward park.
he had always drowned himself in beats and chords like it was his safe haven, like he didn’t have James, or juhoon, seonghyeon or keonho to go too. but nonetheless, he always interrupted y/n’s studying— even when she was miles away from campus.
when y/n got called to the principals office, it was a shock. Multiple student in her homeroom murmuring ‘oooooohhh’s’ and ‘she’s in troubleeeeee!’ crazy, right? the perfect, prim, proper y/n, being called to the office! y/n slowly got up from they’re seat, walking down the empty hall towards the front office.
once inside, they sat down next to.. Martin? The same boy who skated down the hall like it wasn’t a school violation?
“you’re tutoring Martin.”
“me?!”
“you.”
“Him?!”
“yes. You, y/n, are tutoring Martin.” Said the principal, not at all shocked by y/n’s dramatic melody. “b-but i didn’t sign up for this!” y/n tried to defend herself, even as she slumped against her chair like they were sentenced to a death sentence.
y/n glanced sideways to see a disinterested, bored martin laid back in the chair next to them, and scoffed under their breath. “would he even listen to me? who volunteered me as a tutor! I’m horrible at teaching people!!” y/n complained, even as martin sighed from all the energy in the room.
“just shut up already.” martin grumbled, and stood up with a tall pride, aura alluminating with his sharp, stricken cologne. Smelling like a loud concert and masculinity.
“but—“ y/n got cut off by the principals stern voice. “Enough! both of you— after school, 5pm, whatever day.. just tutor him!” the principal huffed, before he beckoned his hand away from us for us to get the hint— to fucking leave.
the two opposites walked out the office with irritable huffs, stolen glances at eachother as they both walked down the same hall, even as he kept his gaze bored and tired. Soon enough, he was watching y/n walk back into class— before calling out their name, handing them a note with his number. “Text me when you get out of class, okay?” martin said, before walking off— leaving y/n a bit confused.
Y/n watched him with a curious glare, not too sharp, but just right..as if analyzing a test subject just with her glasses. But soon enough, the bell rang for the first warning to get to class. And y/n walked back to her class, mind now set on acing this subjects quiz like usual.
while taking the test, y/n couldn’t focus. she tried telling herself to snap out of it! You usually finished early and re did it just to make sure you got the questions right! But she couldn’t even get past number 12. Crazy, right? What was even crazier.. her mind was starting to fill with Martin. With his leg bouncing up and down out of impatience in the office earlier, and how he had bit his lip slightly while looking her up and down.
‘No— don’t do that, y/n! get your head focused!’ — she told herself, pen clicking over and over, before y/n shook her head and finally snapped back into focus.
after class, y/n walked out the door of the classroom with her neat, clean backpack slung over one shoulder as she walked promptly towards her locker, taking out the phone in her pocket to see who had texted her. low and behold, Martin.
- - - - - - - -
(martin) : hey. out of class yet?
(Y/n) : yeah. heading to my locker, why??
- - - - - - -
after y/n finally made it to her locker on the second floor, she opened it and grabbed her stuff for 3rd period, but pausing to take a little break. She had worked hard on her quiz! maybe a little scroll break on twitter could work.
Until, another text from martin. Maybe or maybe not had he been nervous trying to think of a non-creepy, obsessed response for her.
- - - - - - -
(Martin) : when are you gonna tutor me? I’m free today.
IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN UNACTIVE!! OMG. I’m finally back, I think I’ve been in and out of depression. Some days I feel great, and others I feel like I wanna slit my throat in half and wish I could never come back to this shitty world. But here I am, writing a fanfic. I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY pls don’t make me flop
Yeon Sieun using you as his stress reliever from his studies. ❀⋆ೃ࿔
WARNINGS/TAGS MDNI 18+, explicit content, mentions of p in v sex, clit stim, grinding, oral m!receiving, mean Sieun
════════════════════════
It all started when you were trying to tease Sieun in his room.
Climbing into his lap, grinding against his thigh, whimpering and whining, you were doing everything to get him to pay attention to you. Sieun was determined at first, focusing on his literature report whilst he tried to hold back his moans, but when you had gone as far as unzipping his pants and taking his length into your mouth he completely broke his resolve, grabbed you by fistfuls of your hair and fucked your throat, just using your mouth like it was his personal fleshlight.
From then onwards, he was addicted to you.
Whenever you two were together in his room during your study sessions, and he simply couldn’t figure out the solution to a math problem, it would always end up with him fucking your throat or cunt. And the sex got more intense over time as he got better and gave into his suppressed desires.
And he was mean whenever he was upset over an unsolvable question. Eyes dark and mouth slightly parted from the pleasure as he completely took it out on you, his cock driving into your tight pussy with surprising rigour.
To be honest, you loved this side of him, which you never saw outside of this room. Fucking you so meanly whilst whispering the nastiest things to you.
“God, you’re so tight.”
The bed was creaking from how hard Sieun was fucking into you, grabbing onto your hips to hold you in place as he repeatedly thrusted up against your sweet spot. The side of his lips curled into a smirk as he watched in satisfaction as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
As if the pleasure wasn’t enough, his hands slid over your stomach and pressed down over where his cock was buried in your pussy and you let out a squeal. Sieun leaned in close, his lips brushing over your neck and to your jaw as his other hand moved to thumb your clit, the contact of his finger against your bud sending electric shocks up your body.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” His breath was hot against your neck as his index finger drew teasing circles around your clit. “You’ll cum, won’t you?” You could only nod, your brains had turned into mush from how good Sieun was dicking you down and you could barely form words.
Your body took his words like it was a command, grabbing his arm like an anchor as you came around his thick cock. A soft, satisfied noise left his lips as he watched you come undone underneath him, and he finally pulled out of you.
He took out his napkin from his study table and gently dabbed at your inner thighs, dragging the soft silk over your slit as he held your hand.
“You know, I think I finally figured it out. The answer to that last calculus question.”
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·˚ ༘༘⋆ˎˊ˗ Like a rockstar, living too fast, like a rockstar
·˚ ༘༘⋆ˎˊ˗ SYPNOSIS : You and Ryul have been together 8 months, not including all the times the both of you split. Despite Ryuls behavior, you always come back. But what happens when a boy named Martin comes in and mixes up your carefully curated routine?
·˚ ༘༘⋆ˎˊ˗ WARNINGS : Use of 'y/n', underage drinking, mentions of unhealthy habits, campus culture, toxic themes, mentions of substance use, slight possible infidelity, most of these are NOT used in this part, but in later parts.
·˚ ༘༘⋆ˎˊ˗ I am NOT implying any idols mentioned would ever do anything like this.
·˚ ༘༘⋆ˎˊ˗ Idols mentioned : Jiana of Young Posse, Maki of &TEAM, James and Seonghyeon of Cortis, Ohyul of LNGSHOT
ps.. I'm not leaning towards the next part being a full SMAU but a regular fic💔 I'm not used to this yo I write full stories🤕🤕🤕
·˚ ༘༘⋆ˎˊ˗ Like a rockstar, living too fast, like a rockstar 2
·˚ ༘༘⋆ˎˊ˗ SYPNOSIS : You and Ryul have been together 8 months, not including all the times the both of you split. Despite Ryuls behavior, you always come back. But what happens when a boy named Martin comes in and mixes up your carefully curated routine?
·˚ ༘༘⋆ˎˊ˗ WARNINGS : Use of 'y/n', underage drinking, mentions of unhealthy habits, campus culture, toxic themes, mentions of substance use, slight possible infidelity, most of these are NOT used in this part, but in later parts, not proofread, slight infidelity, there's a possibility I may pair two other side idols tg but im not shipping i swear😿
·˚ ༘༘⋆ˎˊ˗ I am NOT implying any idols mentioned would ever do anything like this.
·˚ ༘༘⋆ˎˊ˗ Other idols mentioned : Jiana of Young Posse, Maki of &TEAM, James, Seonghyeon and Juhoon of Cortis, Ohyul and Woojin of Lngshot, Ni-ki of Enhypen
Finally, after a cramped and hot drive to the location, all of you took a step out of by one. Jiana let out a dramatic groan, yanking the straps of her purse from underneath Ohyul, earning a scowl from him. "Jeez, what's got your panties in a bunch.."
Jiana scoffed, whacking him on the arm and turning back to you again and loops arms, the boys standing on either side of you. James audibly sighs, looking up at the house.
The lights inside could be seen from where they stood. It was an orange-y hue with shadows of people running around and doing whatever. The sound of Bang Bang Bang could be heard faintly, but the little moment was interuptted by Maki walking forward.
"Jeeeeez, man? What is this, a coming of age 2000's movie? Can we get a move on?" he tossed up his arms and you all followed with a few eye rolls.
Inside was even more than you all expected.
There was much more than a few people, but not enough to be suffocating. The music was louder inside, just enough to where you had to raise your voice for someone to hear you.
You looked to your side, expecting your friends to be there just as they were a couple seconds ago, but all you were met with was Jianas' apologetic expression as she was dragged away to the game room by Maki.
Well.
You were about to turn around and find somewhere to sit, but the first step you took you stepped right into what felt like a tree.
The tree's branches reached out to steady you, a small laugh leaving its lips. "You good?"
You lifted your head, eyes meeting his. Not a tree. Not even close. (well, maybe a little close)
"I'm.. Yn. Good. Im good."
"Oh? Yn.. well, im glad you're good, Im martin." He laughed, earning an embarrassed flush to your cheeks.
His hands lingered on your arms before nodding slowly and dropping them, sliding them into the pockets of his washed jeans.
"Well.. I don't think I've seen you before. But, I like what I see right now, soo.."
What the fuck man💔
"I do.. too? Is this flirting?" You laughed a little, looking around the room to break eye contact. "Im guessing this is your place? Nice party, by the way."
"'Preciate that, man- girl? Yn." He chuckled a little under his breath, rubbing the back of his head and dropping his head a little when yo neck hurt kinda.
You laughed a little, a genuine one that you tried to hold back. You quickly cleared your throat, a cloud of awkwardness swarming you before you blurted out.
"Wanna dance?" A bit cliche, but you tried. After he agreed with a small shrug, you walked out to where everyone else was, his hands sliding around your waist and yours on his chest.
It felt a bit taboo. Hence, Ryul is still here somewhere, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. What even were you guys?
Slowly, the conversations flowed easier, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing slow circles on your hip. Eyes half lidded as he stared down at you. You wanted about whatever came to mind, feeling comfortable. Even enough so that you spoke about your relationship with Ryul. bit toom him aback a little, but hearing how he allegedly treated you he reeled himself back in and pushed away any doubts.
Somewhere in the conversation, your words slowed, grips tightening.
Martin's gaze dropped down to your lips a moment, his hands pulling you just a tad closer.
You had stopped talking by now, the air thickening around the both of you as he leaned down towards your lips. It felt so wrong, but you didn't bother moving away.
Your lips brushed his, fingers digging into thr fabric of his shirt. Before you could settle into the kiss, a voice jolted your apart, your hands dropped to your sides.
"No fucking way, bro." Ryul stood in front of the both of you, fists clenching and unclenching.
summary: basically what’d they listen to while sharing airbuds/ AirPods with you. like the song lyrics ok lemme die bye
warnings : none !
guys I’m sorry for being inactive lwk classes rape me sometimes so 🤣🤣‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🚨🚨🚨🚨 tests ‼️‼️‼️‼️🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 bf life 🤣🤣🤣🤣‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️
JAMES -
silver lining (laufey)
(this is kinda canon even though he’s CHAOTIC.) he loves anything with a soft beat. It reminds him of you. soft features, soft rhythm, soft vibe, anything laufey reminds him of you, so he always listens to her just to keep his mind busy on YOU.
JUHOON -
glue song (beabadoobe)
anything romantic, he loves. surprising, right? he’s a HUGE sap in private, and loves showing his love for you.. even though your oblivious and a complete idiot to his obvious LOVE! (who said that….??? 👀👀)
MARTIN -
4 raws (EsDeekid)
he’s never scared to hide his interests from you, even after all he’s revealed, he will always show his love for underground artists!
SEONGHYEON -
over (lucky daye)
he’s overly freaked half the time, even though he’s a minor?? but LOVESSS introducing r&b artists to you, even if you don’t listen to it, but still end up taking a few minutes just to get to know him better when you’re alone.
KEONHO -
bags (clairo)
will ALWAYS get slandered for larping clairo, even though he LOVES clairo and will defend clairo with his LIFE. and even shows his love for music in this special moment you share airbuds.
stop it won’t update and I keep redoing all 30 FUKING RAGS IM BOUTTA GET OUSSED OFF HOLY SHIT. This is lazy and i HADDD pictures but the pictures wouldn’t update with the post and it pissed me off so idc anymore just use your imagination.
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ᝰ.ᐟ pairing - (individual) cortis ot5 x gn! reader
ᝰ.ᐟ summary - and the pet names they give you. some nicknames are more fem sososo sorry for that, theres also just some general fluff headcanons/scenarios where they use the nickname (✿◡‿◡)
JAMES calls you things like "love" he thinks that love is perfect, you're his love.
"love, can you try some of this soup? i can't tell if it's too salty" he'll say from the kitchen while he's cooking dinner.
james picked it up from his parents, sometimes he'll jokingly call you "sweetest sugar plum shmookins biscuit" when you deprive him of attention. you'll be cuddled into his chest watching something on tv, and he'll whisper soft things like "your so perfect, you know that love?" into your hair while you doze off to the chatter of the show your watching.
JUHOON calls you baby, or hun. your sweet like honey, so he thought it fits. he doesn't like to be too serious with you, so just saying your name would feel odd, which resulted in him thinking of cute nicknames for you on the spot, acting carefree when he says them for the first time.
"i love you, y/nnie" he'll say before he walks out the door to go pick up groceries for the week.
"baby, that movie you wanted to watch is in theaters, do you wanna go?"
"hun, i listened to that song you like :)"
MARTIN calls you babe. it's kind of a classic, he loves it for you. everyone knows martin is super affectionate, so he isn't afraid to use pet names like this in front of his friends. he's pretty big on pda, always having an arm around you when your walking through the shops, his fingers lacing through yours.
"hey babe, what do you think about this beat i'm working on? i feel like it's just missing something ..."
SEONGHYEON calls you a nickname that comes from your real name. it could be as simple as adding a "y" or something like that at the end. he's never been too big on pet names like baby and stuff, but one day, "y/nnie" just slipped out and he kinda... never stopped saying it.
"y/nnie !!" he'll say when he finally spots you at the mall after looking for a good 20 minutes, being glad you guys got to meet up
"y/n-ah, would this shirt go better with light or dark wash jeans?"
KEONHO will call you "love" or "babe". they're both a little simple, but there hasn't ever been much more to it. he feels like it conveys everything he feels for you without having to think about it.
"babee-uh, i don't wanna go to dance practice, and plus, i leave at like- 7:00 anyways."
summary : ohyul has had a rough day, and needs y/n’s bright, but calm energy to cheer him up. invites y/n over to the studio at night and eventually falls asleep in her arms after a deep talk.
warnings! : none, rlly.
I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS! my first short story.
when burying yourself in electric guitar strums, pathetic attempts on lyrics for the next comeback, becomes tiring, ohyul always finds a solution to his problems.
y/n.
always smelling like strawberry’s and bliss every time he hugs her, the way her head tilts when she focused on something, or the way she smiled while listening to ohyul’s personal tracks for her(which of course he was too much of a wimp to admit they were for her).
he got out of his studio chair, running a slightly sweaty palm down his tired, exhausted face, and reached over the desk to see his forgotten phone and picked it up, going straight to y/n’s Instagram.
(don’t mind the times on it, okay? I got lazy.)
once he texted y/n, he ordered the ramen she liked. The spicy chicken broth with boiled eggs and spring onion, as well as pork belly and enoki mushrooms. then ordered a kimchi fried rice bowl for himself, and placed the order under the company’s ‘dinner’ card.
the food for here the same time y/n arrived, and she brought it in, smiling happily as she inhaled the food. “You even got me strawberry milk? you’re the best!” She squealed, and set the food down on a slightly empty coffee table infront of the soft couch in the cramped studio.
“Come, come eat with me. you’ve been busy, I assume?” y/n said, opening up the food with a hungry gaze as she dug in quickly, as ohyul sat down close next to her, and slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, clinging almost. Y/n was shocked, not only from the sudden clinginess, but also the fact he was on the verge of crying.
“Okay— what happened? is that why you wanted me to come so urgently?” Y/n asked then, voice soft and muffled at the fact her face was stuffed with ramen.
ohyul looked up at y/n, eyes big and glossy and overwhelmed as he explained what happened in an almost shaky, exhausted voice. “I—I don’t know.. everything has been a blur ever since the album— and now I’m stacked with pressure..” he said, sniffling as he wiped a tear from his cold face.
y/n looked sad then, putting down the ramen bowl to hug him, and I tried to cheer him up. “Okay— it’s fine.. just breathe. please don’t cry..” she mumbled the last part, her eyes watering, before ohyul stopped crying, not wanting to upset y/n.
“I’m okay.. yeah? I’m okay now that you’re here..” ohyul said, then looked back down at the food with newfound hunger. “Let’s eat, yah?” He murmured, sad still, but cheered up due to y/n, and dug into the kimchi fried rice.
after the two ate, ohyul laid between y/n’s thighs with sorrow, pretending to be upset again just for her attention. “I’m just sooooo stressed.. I need a big, warm cuddle session with my beautiful, fluffy, warm best friend.” ohyul pouted, before smiling sheepishly as he nuzzled against the plush thighs.
“best friends don’t do this.. y’know.” y/n spoke up after he nuzzled, and let her hand drift down to his hair, carding through the soft, but distressed strands. Ohyul practically cringed with satisfaction from the feeling of his love’s hands in his hair.
“well, maybe we can be more.” Ohyul murmured against the soft flesh of y/n’s thighs, the vibration of his deep voice sending jolts through y/n’s nervous system. “what do you mean?” she asked, before ohyul looked up at y/n.
after a deep silence, he sighed and tapped her thigh, getting her attention again. “be mine. please? I’d treat you so nice..” ohyul whispered against y/n’s thigh, then looked up at her, to see her reaction.
y/n was a bit shocked, as if not expecting his clinginess, but also flustered..? eyes widened, but then softened into those familiar, soft eyes ohyul knew. “okay.. okay. I will.” she finally admitted, agreeing to his words, before she saw ohyul rest his hand against her stomach, slowly falling asleep in the comfort of his now, girlfriends arms.
Y/n soon followed down the sleep line too, her eyes closing and dreaming on for the rest of the night. Under the warmth of her baby’s body.
~WARNINGS: language, pet names, suggestive content (no smut just a bit sus 👀), bromance, fluff crack, (lmk if i missed anything 😓)
✮⋆˙ aughhhh i got bored of writing the martin fic but ill be back to it sooon!!!! here is some more bf james content 😸😸😸😸😸!! ignore the fact that i forgot to put my watermark on some posts 😭
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SYNOPSIS you had never been the type of girl to crush on boys like most girls your age. well, that was until the basketball team for the year gets announced and you find yourself attracted to the boy who wears jersey twelve. little did you know he had his eyes on you for months already
PART TWO ꪆৎ⋆˚࿔ BASKETBALLPLAYER!SEONGHYEON x FEM!READER
includes!! use of y/n (i know some people don’t like it), illit members, other than that not much tbh😭😭
THOUGHTS uhmm im on the fence about liking this part omg😭 but i js want to say thank you so so so much to everyone who interacted with the last part. all of you are actually the sweetest people ever and i hope you like this part!!! right in front of me is probably out tmrw as i’m a busy tonight!!!
i would really appreciate reblogs, likes, and comments
so many engene are acting really strange and still delusional about this situation. the double standards toward enhypen and heeseung are getting out of hand.
i respect that everyone can make their own choices, but it makes no sense to push a boycott while also being hypocritical about it? telling others to boycott the other six members while supporting heeseung like he’s not under the same company just shows where some of you actually stand.
the whole “7-1=0” mindset is extreme, and saying “oh we only want heeseung in enhypen” is disrespectful to the years of work he’s put into his own album. reporting his insta and picking apart his photos to call them ai is unnecessary and just nasty. i seriously can’t stress this enough — stop overanalyzing everything and pushing your own parasocial narratives onto the members. this is not normal behavior.
at some point, you need to step back and really think about what you’re doing. some of you are choosing to stay in this mindset and turning it into a movement just to feel like you’re helping, when in reality it’s doing more harm than good for all of them.
