Weak Hero Class 1 X Reader - Blog Posts

I Just Want You

Requested:yesssss!!

Na Baek-jin x Fem!Reader

Soft NSFW · Comfort · Gentle Dom · Intimate First Time Vibes

⸻

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing the world out.

Baek-jin was quiet, as always. But his eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes—had softened. He stood just inside his apartment, one hand still on the door, the other reaching for you like it was instinct.

“Come here,” he murmured.

You did.

His hand slid up the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he kissed you—slow, deliberate. There was no rush, no fumbling. Just heat building gradually, like sunlight creeping over your skin.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud, but his touch was gentle, like he was afraid of breaking you. His hands cradled your face, then your hips, and finally your waist as he pulled you closer, mouths barely parting between breathless kisses.

“You sure?” he asked against your lips.

You nodded. “I want you, Baek-jin.”

That look flickered in his eyes—something dark, something protective. He didn’t say anything. He just picked you up like it was easy, carrying you to the bedroom with his forehead pressed to yours.

He laid you down on the bed like you were the most fragile thing in the world. His touch never rushed. Fingers traced every inch of you—your collarbones, your sides, the soft skin of your thighs. Each kiss left heat behind, trailing lower with every breath. His mouth was reverent on your skin, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

Clothes disappeared slowly. His hoodie first, yours next, layer by layer until there was nothing left but skin and breath and need.

He hovered above you, bare and beautiful, eyes locked on yours. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

You reached up, hand curling at the back of his neck. “It’s not. I want all of you.”

His movements were careful, but when he finally slid inside you, it stole the breath from your lungs. He gasped softly against your throat, burying his face in your neck as he pushed in deeper, your body stretching to take him.

“Fuck—” he whispered, voice strained. “You feel so good. So warm.”

You clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist, letting him go slow, deep, loving. He moved like he wasn’t just fucking you—he was claiming a place inside you that no one else had touched. His hands gripped your hips like they anchored him, like letting go might kill him.

“You’re mine,” he said softly, lips brushing your ear. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

He kissed you through every moan, every slow thrust, every wave of pleasure that made your toes curl and your body tremble under him. And when you fell apart around him, crying his name with your nails raking down his back, he held you like you were something holy.

He came with a soft groan, hips stuttering, forehead pressed to yours. Even then, he didn’t let go.

Later, you lay tangled together in silence. His arms around your waist, chest to your back, thumb stroking lazily along your hip.

“You okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You smiled, heart full. “More than okay.”

He kissed your shoulder, lips lingering. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“Just Hold Me”

Pairing: Geum Seong-je x Reader

Reader has gone through a bad day and just needs to feel safe

Genre:fluff

⸻

The day had clawed its way through you.

Everything that could go wrong had. Your phone screen cracked. You failed a test you swore you were ready for. Someone said something cruel, and it stuck to you like tar. Every word today felt louder than usual. Every hallway, more suffocating. You were tired of people talking at you, expecting things from you, watching you.

You didn’t cry. Not yet. You just moved on autopilot, feet dragging until they brought you to the one place you didn’t have to pretend.

The warehouse was quiet. Familiar.

Geum Seong-je was there, back turned, doing something with his hands—maybe taping up his gloves, maybe cleaning up after a fight. He always had a reason to keep busy. Even when things were quiet around him, his body was never truly still.

You didn’t say anything. You just walked up behind him slowly, like approaching a wild animal. You knew how he was. Touchy. Defensive. Like if you leaned on him wrong, he’d snap and bare his teeth. But today… today you just needed something to anchor you.

So you leaned forward and rested your head gently on his back, arms not even wrapping around him—just laying against him like a ghost of a hug.

He stiffened immediately.

“The hell are you doing?” His voice was sharp, not yelling—but cutting.

You didn’t move. “I’m tired.”

He took a step forward, trying to shake you off. “Go sleep somewhere else.”

You grabbed the back of his hoodie, fingers curling into the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from sinking. “Just for a second.”

He turned around now, face shadowed, brows furrowed in irritation. “I’m not your damn pillow. Don’t come around me like that.”

You finally looked up at him, and this time you couldn’t stop your voice from cracking. “I just want to be held.”

It came out so small.

So raw.

Like a piece of you broke off and landed at his feet.

He opened his mouth—probably to say something sharp, maybe tell you to go home—but then he saw your face. Not just your red-rimmed eyes or the trembling line of your mouth, but all of it. The weight. The silence. The fight you had clearly already lost with yourself.

His jaw tightened. Then relaxed.

He sighed, turning his head slightly like he was annoyed with himself.

“…Tch. Come here.”

You didn’t move fast—scared he’d change his mind if you did. But he didn’t stop you when you stepped forward. Didn’t push you when you leaned into him again.

This time, his arms came up—awkward at first, like he didn’t know where to put them. But eventually, one arm wrapped around your back, then the other rested lightly on your shoulders. It wasn’t tight. It wasn’t romantic. But it was real.

Warm. Solid. Human.

His hoodie smelled like worn leather and faint cologne. His chest was steady under your cheek. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding for hours.

You didn’t talk.

He didn’t ask what happened.

And that was the best part.

Seong-je wasn’t the type to whisper comforts or tell you things would be okay. But he was warm. And still. And after a few minutes, his hand lifted—hesitantly—and started brushing down your back in a slow, grounding motion.

“You should’ve just said something,” he muttered under his breath.

You smiled weakly into his chest. “I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“…Yeah, well.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you’d cry on me either, but here we are.”

You weren’t crying, not really—but maybe he said it just to give you permission.

You stayed like that for a while. Long enough for the noise in your head to dull. Long enough for his arms to tighten just a bit more. Long enough to believe—for a little while—that the world wasn’t as cruel as it had felt this morning.

And Geum Seong-je, rough edges and all, held you like maybe he needed this too.

I need more geum seong je fics to read on here. Ive done read them all😩😩😩

“You Don’t Know Me, But You Will”

Geum Seong-je x Younger Reader(by three years)

Genre: Dark Romance / Obsession / Psychological

Geum seong je finds himself stalking and following her. Memorizing her schedule. Knowing where she lives. It doesn’t bother her. It makes her fall more…

⸻

She didn’t know his name.

You had passed by him maybe once—twice, if fate was being funny. You didn’t even look up when it happened. Just another boy in the background. Another blurred face in the messy canvas of school and city and bus rides.

But to him, you were everything.

Geum Seong-je noticed you the first time you passed his crew on the back street near the old convenience store. Your uniform was neater than the others’, your head lowered like you didn’t want to be seen. But he saw you. He always sees what others don’t.

That day, he followed you.

At first, just a block. Then two. Then every afternoon. You always took the same way home, headphones in, oblivious to the shadows you walked past. He memorized your routine. 4:07 p.m., you left school. 4:15, stopped for bubble tea. 4:38, turned the corner by the florist and disappeared into that tiny house with the rusting gate.

He didn’t know why it started. It didn’t matter.

There was a pull, like something primal. You were younger—three years, maybe more—but it didn’t register as a problem in his mind. Age didn’t mean anything. Not when he’d already decided you were his. Not when he felt something raw and alive clawing at his insides every time he saw you.

You smiled at a classmate once—some boy your age—and Geum Seong-je gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He didn’t like that. You didn’t even know him, but he burned with possessiveness anyway.

He watched you through windows. From rooftops. He learned your schedule better than you knew it yourself. Some nights, he followed you all the way to your tutoring sessions. Once, he even stepped into the same bookstore just to hear your voice when you asked the clerk about a novel.

Your voice made his fingers twitch. He wanted to own that softness. Trap it in a glass jar and never let anyone else hear it again.

You didn’t know it yet, but Geum Seong-je had already chosen you.

And he was just waiting for the right moment to make you see him too.

Lately, you’ve felt it.

A shift in the air. A weight behind your every step, like someone’s gaze is stitching itself into your spine.

It started small. The hair on your arms rising when you turned the corner near the convenience store. The feeling of eyes pressing against your back on the bus, even when no one was looking. You chalked it up to stress, to weird dreams and too many late nights reading horror stories.

But now?

Now you’re not so sure.

Today, you swear someone followed you.

Not with footsteps. Not anything obvious. Just that pull again — the sense that someone’s always a few steps behind, never touching, never close, but there. Breathing the same air. Watching.

And the weirdest part?

You’re not scared.

You should be. Any sane person would be. But instead… there’s something else curling in your stomach when it happens. A strange calm. A chill that makes you walk slower instead of faster.

It feels like something’s waiting for you. Like he’s waiting.

You don’t know his name. But you’ve seen him — tall, maroon jacket, eyes like they’ve seen too much. He’s always on the edge of your world. Near the bus stop. Outside the boba shop. Once, you saw him in the reflection of a window… just standing across the street, his gaze slicing straight through the glass like he could see inside you.

You don’t know him.

But you feel him.

Like he lives beneath your skin. Like something buried deep in your chest recognizes him, even if your mind doesn’t understand why.

It’s not love. It’s not fear either. It’s something in between. Something darker. Something magnetic.

From across the street, Geum Seong-je watches you pause. You turn your head like you can sense him. His breath catches. You feel him, don’t you?

He knew you would.

He smiles.

You’re almost ready.

“The Quiet Between Us”

Pairing: Yeon Si-eun x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, slow-burn comfort

⸻

The wind was crisp today—cool enough to make you shiver despite the faint sunlight filtering through the trees in Yeongdeungpo Park. You tugged your sleeves over your hands and glanced beside you.

Yeon Si-eun was sitting on the park bench, back straight, hands resting neatly on his knees. His expression was neutral as always—guarded, distant—but you could tell he was relaxed in his own way. The gentle sway of his leg and the way he let out a soft breath every now and then told you more than his face ever did.

“You’re cold,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You blinked. “What gave it away? My chattering teeth?”

His gaze flickered to you—dry, deadpan.

“You’re not that subtle,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. “You could offer me your jacket, you know. Like a proper gentleman.”

“I would,” he said without missing a beat, “but you’d probably drown in it.”

That made you laugh, and you didn’t miss the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. You loved that—you loved the way he didn’t smile often, but when he did, it felt like you’d uncovered something rare. You didn’t need big gestures with Si-eun. His presence, his quiet concern, was enough.

“You always come out here when you’re thinking,” you said, watching the small pond across from the bench. Ducks floated lazily, undisturbed by the cold.

“It’s quiet here.”

“You don’t like quiet?”

“No, I like it,” he said, turning his head slightly to look at you. “But when I’m with you, the quiet feels different.”

Your heart stuttered.

He wasn’t the kind of guy to say things like that. He wasn’t the type to offer compliments or be affectionate without reason. But every now and then, he dropped these quiet, thoughtful lines that left you breathless.

“Different how?” you asked softly.

Si-eun looked away, watching the leaves dance in the breeze. His brows drew together—not in irritation, just contemplation. You’d come to recognize the subtle shifts in his expressions.

“It’s not heavy,” he finally said. “Silence is usually… pressure. But with you, it’s not.”

You didn’t speak for a while, afraid that anything you said might shatter the moment. You simply leaned your shoulder into his, your touch light but intentional. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move away.

He let you stay there.

That was enough.

⸻

You and Si-eun weren’t dating—at least, not officially. You weren’t even sure what you were. Friends, maybe. Companions. Something suspended in that space between understanding and unspoken affection.

But days like this made you feel like you didn’t need a label.

“You know,” you said after a while, watching a kid try to feed bread to a pigeon twice his size, “most people wouldn’t pick a cold bench over their warm beds on a weekend.”

He shrugged. “Most people aren’t me.”

“Mm, true. But most people aren’t this pretty, either.”

That made him pause.

“Pretty?”

“You know you are,” you teased. “If you ever wanted to stop beating people up, you could just model for skincare brands. You’ve got that ‘stone-cold beauty’ thing going for you.”

He gave you a flat look, but his ears were pink. That was enough for you to claim victory.

“You’re weird,” he said quietly.

“So are you.”

There was a pause. He was still looking at you, his gaze lingering just a moment too long to be casual.

“That’s why I don’t mind being around you,” he murmured.

You were pretty sure your heart forgot how to beat for a second.

⸻

Later, the two of you wandered the nearby streets, your footsteps naturally falling in rhythm. Si-eun didn’t talk much, but his presence filled the space in other ways. You always noticed the little things—how he walked on the side closest to the road, how his eyes subtly scanned your surroundings, how he slowed his steps if you fell behind.

There was comfort in that. In knowing that he cared in ways that didn’t need to be said aloud.

You stopped in front of a small convenience store.

“Want hot chocolate?” you asked.

He nodded once. You ducked inside, grabbing two cans of warm cocoa from the heated shelf. When you came back out, he was leaning against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets, face turned up slightly to the sky like he was trying to read something in the clouds.

You handed him one can.

“Thanks,” he said, fingers brushing yours as he took it.

The contact made you warm in a way the drink couldn’t.

You both stood there for a moment, sipping cocoa in silence.

“I used to do this alone,” he said suddenly.

You looked at him.

“Come out on weekends. Watch people. Drink hot chocolate.”

You smiled. “Sounds lonely.”

“It was.”

His eyes met yours. There was something unguarded in his gaze, a softness that didn’t come often.

“It’s not anymore,” he said.

“Only I Hurt You”

Oneshot were seong je finds reader in his bed after he was out handling a couple of guys who had fought her while walking home in an alley way (he told her to go home but she went to his house instead)

The front door creaked when he opened it.

Blood still clung to his knuckles, dried into the creases of his fingers. His hoodie was soaked with someone else’s sweat, maybe some of his own, and the adrenaline hadn’t fully left his bloodstream yet. It rarely did.

They’d laid hands on you. That was enough to make him see red. Enough to make him track them down like dogs.

But the house was too quiet now.

Geum Seong-je kicked off his boots and headed down the dim hallway. The rain hadn’t stopped — he could still hear it hammering against the windows. He told you to go home. Told you to listen.

You never listened.

And when he stepped into his bedroom, there you were.

Curled in his bed, soaking wet, blood streaked down one arm, your lip split and trembling. His sheets were damp. Your clothes were stuck to your skin like a second layer. Your shoes were still on.

“You walked here?” His voice came out low. Barely controlled.

You didn’t look at him. Didn’t answer.

He crossed the room in two steps.

“You walked here. In the rain. After they touched you?”

You blinked. He could see the shiver you tried to suppress, your body reacting before your pride could hide it. The blood on your shirt wasn’t all dried. Some of it was still fresh.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” you whispered.

That cracked something in him.

Geum Seong-je didn’t speak for a long moment. He just stood there, fists clenched, chest rising slowly. Then, without a word, he knelt at the edge of the bed and started untying your soaked laces. You flinched when his knuckles brushed your ankle.

“I told you to go home,” he muttered. “But you came here, instead.”

Your voice was barely audible. “This is home.”

He froze. Just for a second.

Then he yanked your shoes off with more force than necessary and peeled your jacket away from your shoulders. It clung, resisting, your blood and the rainwater mixing into a mess that stained his fingers.

You tried to sit up, but his hand landed on your thigh — firm, grounding.

“Stay still.”

You didn’t dare disobey.

He left for a moment. You heard drawers open, the faucet running. When he came back, he had a towel, gauze, ointment, and one of his oversized shirts.

“Take the top off.” His tone left no room for argument.

You moved slowly, the sting in your ribs sharper now that the adrenaline was fading. He watched you, eyes narrow, jaw tight, like he was memorizing every bruise so he could repay them tenfold.

He cleaned the cut on your arm with terrifying gentleness, fingertips brushing over your skin like you were something fragile, breakable.

“You should’ve called me,” he murmured.

“You told me to leave.”

“You should’ve still called.”

Your eyes flicked up. “Would you have come?”

He paused.

Then leaned in.

“I’m always coming for you.”

The silence between you tightened, thick with something you didn’t know how to name. You winced when he pressed antiseptic to your split lip. He cupped your jaw to steady you, his thumb brushing your cheek, rough with callouses and blood.

“I handled it,” he said. “They won’t touch you again. They won’t touch anyone again.”

A beat.

“Did you kill them?”

His eyes didn’t flinch. “No. But I made them wish I had.”

The room went still.

“You scare me sometimes,” you admitted.

He brushed damp hair from your face. Then leaned forward and kissed your forehead — barely a whisper of contact.

“I know,” he said. “But I’m the only one who’s allowed to hurt you.”

You didn’t know whether to cry or kiss him.

So instead, you let him pull his shirt over your head, let him dry your hair with the towel like he’d done this a hundred times before. And when he climbed into bed behind you, one arm sliding under your neck and the other over your waist, pulling you close, you didn’t fight it.

You just let yourself be held. By the boy who broke bones with his fists and still handled you like porcelain.

Because somehow, in all this cold, bleeding chaos —

Geum Seong-je was the only warmth you had left.

Geum seong je x reader headcanons!!

Obsession Disguised as Protection

• He tells you he’s “just keeping you safe,” but it’s really about control. You’re not allowed to walk home alone. Your location is always known.

• He doesn’t trust anyone else with you — even your friends. He’ll start isolating you, gently at first. Then, not so gently.

• If someone touches you — even accidentally — he notices. And that person will feel it, later. Quietly. Violently.

Emotional Withholding & Power Games

• He’s not affectionate in public. Not out of shame — but control. You’re his. That’s enough.

• When you fight, he shuts down. Ice-cold silence. You’ll beg for a reaction, and he’ll stare at you with that deadpan expression that makes your heart drop.

• But later, he’ll show up outside your door, bruised from a fight, and press his forehead to yours like nothing happened.

Violent Loyalty

• The only way he knows how to love is through violence. If someone hurts you — even emotionally — he will retaliate.

• He doesn’t understand emotional boundaries. If you cry, he gets angry. Not at you — at the world. At whoever made you feel like that.

• He has no limits when it comes to revenge. People disappear. Rumors start. You stop asking questions.

He Watches, Always

• He doesn’t need to ask what you’re doing. He already knows. His reach in the streets makes sure of that.

• Sometimes he’ll be standing outside your class, not saying a word. Just watching. People start whispering. You don’t know if you’re flattered or terrified.

• He reads your texts when you leave your phone unattended. Not because he doubts you. Because he needs to know.

His Softness is Conditional

• He shows affection when you’re broken — when you’re crying in the dark or trembling after a confrontation. That’s when he becomes gentle. That’s when his voice drops low, and he brushes hair from your face like you’re something fragile.

• But if you act too independent, too distant? He withdraws immediately. Gives you the cold shoulder until you come crawling back. He needs to feel needed.

Your Pain Grounds HiM

• He doesn’t flinch at your anger. But your tears? That kills him — because he knows he causes them, and yet he still wants to keep you close.

• He once held you after a breakdown and whispered: “No one’s allowed to hurt you. Not even me.” But he already had.

Codependence as Romance

• He tells you, “You don’t need anyone but me.” Over and over — until you believe it. Until it’s true.

• You can’t tell if you’re in love or if you’ve been caged. But some twisted part of you doesn’t want to escape.

• He’d burn the world down for you — but he’d burn you too, just to keep you his.

BONUS IMAGINES!

Even if he has a cold demeanor he would give In to your hugs and kisses and if you asked he’d cuddle you to sleep.

He loves seeing you wrap your arms around him if it means you will sleep feeling safe.

If it ever seems he’s not listening to you when he’s on his while your telling him all your school problems or girl drama. He’s most likely writing down names so he knows who he can’t trust around you.

Arguments end the same sometimes with him. He’s yelling at you. He leaves y’all’s apartment.he comes back with silent treatment, so your the one having to say sorry. Then y’all end up cuddling on the couch watching tv

“No One Else” — Part 5: “Collateral”

Genre: Dark romance, psychological drama, emotional fallout

Tone: Dangerous affection, unraveling consequences, possessive tension

(The guy Jun hyuk is a made up character for this fan fic)

⸻

It wasn’t just between the two of you anymore.

People had started to notice.

The way you always sat next to him—even when there were open seats. The way his eyes followed you like a tracking system. The way no one could joke with you anymore without feeling like a shadow was hovering behind them.

You hadn’t meant for it to get this far.

But the deeper you fell into him—the more obvious it became that there was no getting out without a cost.

And people were beginning to pay it.

⸻

It started with Jun-hyuk.

He’d been your friend since middle school. Safe. Easygoing. The kind of guy who knew your mom’s name and brought you snacks during exam week.

He was also the first person to finally say it out loud.

“You’ve changed,” he told you after school, standing just outside the school gates. “You don’t laugh anymore. You watch. Like you’re waiting for something bad to happen.”

You didn’t answer.

He stepped closer. “Is it… is it Seong-je?”

The name made your chest tighten. You hated how much you liked hearing it from someone else’s mouth. Like he was yours, and everyone knew.

You didn’t say yes. You didn’t have to.

Jun-hyuk’s jaw clenched. “He’s not normal. You know that. He’s dangerous.”

“He protects me.”

“No,” he snapped. “He isolates you.”

That made you look up.

And the worst part?

You felt angry.

Because even if it was true—even if you knew it deep down—he didn’t get to say it. Not him.

Not anyone.

⸻

You told Seong-je about it that night.

Not because you wanted him to do anything.

But because you wanted him to know.

He was silent for a long time after you finished. Sitting beside you, eyes on the floor, the silence thick.

Then he spoke.

“Do you miss him?”

You turned your head slowly.

“Do you want me to?”

His gaze snapped to yours. Cold. Controlled.

But something was breaking.

“No,” he said. “Because if you ever do…”

He trailed off. Didn’t finish.

Didn’t need to.

⸻

Jun-hyuk stopped showing up to school the next day.

Rumors swirled.

Some said he got into a fight and didn’t want to come back.

Others said someone threatened him.

You knew the truth.

And when Seong-je sat beside you in class like nothing had happened—calm, composed, triumphant—your stomach twisted.

But you didn’t say anything.

Because part of you felt safe.

And part of you liked it.

⸻

You were losing things.

But you still had him.

And in the growing silence of your life, that started to feel like enough.

Even if he was a storm and you were just learning how to breathe in the eye of it.