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──── "ＦＵＣＫ ＭＥ"
uh pathetic loser male reader
heres the first chapter, and if your interested, check it out 😋
First, you need to understand the disaster that befall [name] on an otherwise remarkable Tuesday night in the year 2024, one must first understand the manhwa.
It was called 'When Petals Fall Before the Throne,' a historical romance set in a fictionalized dynasty empire called Haewon, heavily inspired by Goryeo era Korea with the dramatic court politics cranked up.
It had been running for about two hundred and forty chapters on one of the bigger Webtoon platforms for three years, boasting millions of loyal fans, a merchandise line, two spin off novels, a rumored drama adaptation that fans screamed about in comments sections.
And a very dedicated community.
The fan wikis were longer than some academic textbooks, the author, who went by the pen name, '@CrimsonInk, was treated like a deity.
The story follows Seo Areum, a girl of peasant birth with a mysteriously gentle aura, soft eyes, and a personality best described as pure, the kind of girl who cried at dead sparrows and somehow attractive rather than exhausting.
You know, a white lotus.
She had grown up in a rural village, knew nothing of court politics, and possessed exactly zero qualifications for the imperial capitals, remember this.
She ended up there anyway, dragged along as a servant to a minor noble family.
And then, at its center, were the three male leads, each catastrophically attractive, each catastrophically powerful, and each catastrophically obsessed with one poor, innocent, naive girl.
The Emperor, his Imperial Majesty, first male lead.
His character archetype was the classic cold tyrant male lead.
He was cold, ruthless, with a reputation for executing ministers and that made court painters weep because of a small mistake, so basically the most dangerous man alive and the blackest flag you would ever meet.
He had ascended to the throne at sixteen after a succession war that he personally engineered.
He was twenty six in the story's present timeline.
He had eyes the color of dark ember that readers consistently described as 'looking at you like you are the only thing in the room and also like he is deciding how best to ruin you.'
The general, the second male lead, the empire's most decorated military commander!
Which meant he had won campaigns that lesser men hadn't survived long enough to lose. He was a massive, broad shouldered, scarred, physically overwhelming presence that made the palace guards look decorative by comparison.
He had a blunt way of speaking that was either refreshing or terrifying depending on the context. He only cared about strength, loyalty, and .. catastrophically, the heroine.
He had a scar that ran from his left temple to the edge of his jaw, which he'd gotten in a campaign at twenty one.
He was twenty eight in the present story.
He was very morally complicated yet was ignored because .. he was attractive, obviously.
Then lastly, the imperial advisor of the emperor, the third male lead.
The one you wouldn't think is dangerous or even a red flag, since he was always the 'elegant' one.
He was the emperor's childhood companion turned most trusted and most watchful advisor, he had a smile that never reached his eyes and a mind that was always, always calculating three moves ahead.
He carried a folding fan and had the kind of face that the manhwa's artist had clearly drawn with concealed malicious intent towards the reader's composure. And had a silver tongue, patient in the way that predators were patient.
Obviously he fit an almost fox type strategist, the one who seemed playful and charming until you realized he had been maneuvering you into a corner since the moment you met.
[name] was an eighteen year old, who had read 'When Petals Fall Before the Throne,' he lived with parents in a decent sized apartment in the city.
His parents worked a lot.
They were not neglectful, they checked in, they left food, his mom texted him pictures of cats she thought he would like, and he always responded with a thumbs up emoji because come on, it's cats, but they had long ago stopped questioning why he didn't go out.
The questioning had ended sometime around the ninth grade when it became clear that the answers were always a variation of 'I don't want to be dressed up' in increasingly creative excuses.
It wasn't like [name] was depressed.
He would be the first to insist on this, though admittedly the first and only person to insist on it was, him, to himself, at 2 AM.
He just.. Preferred being alone.
The online world made sense to him, his Discord friends, people he'd been talking to for years, some of whom he knew better than anyone he'd ever sat next to in a physical classroom, were real friendships.
Yes, he would go to war for Hana, who lived in Finland and drew incredible rule34 fanart and had the funniest deadpan delivery of anyone he'd ever spoken to.
He would commit crimes for Derek, who was twenty three and worked a miserable job yet always showed up to their group calls anyway, cracking jokes.
When [name] wasn't speaking to his online friends, he read a lot.
Everything, really.
Novels, manwha, fanfiction, and those ..other fanfics also.
He, like many people, had certain reading habits that he kept in a separate secret folder.
Well. He had access to the internet.
The AO3 tags speak for themselves.
Physically, [name] was the kind of person people described with the phrase.
'He has potential.'
Which is a very polite way of saying he does not currently deliver on it. He was on the taller side of average, which he ruined by slouching so much.
His face was fine, actually probably better than fine if he really tried.
He was not fat either, exactly, but he was the soft quality of someone whose most vigorous daily exercise was reading for things on the top shelf.
It's not that he is useless, at least not .. a lot.
He has graduated high school, technically, barely, with grades that reflected a brain that worked but a person who was not applying it in any way to a society found useful.
And his parents would always say.
'Please, just do something with your hands, [name], anything.'
Ahem, mom, for your information, he could use his hands to do something.
He could also draw.
This was the one thing [name] had going for him in any sense of being useful.
He was genuinely, embarrassingly talented, his art had a quality to it, precise and expressive.
And he used it to his advantage, for certain .. activities.
Present [name] had more pressing concerns.
Specifically, he was having alone time, it was almost midnight, and the manhwa he was reading had just introduced its second male lead and [name] had physically had to put his phone down and stare at the ceiling for a moment to collect himself.
He shouldn't do this yet his hand slipped under his pajama pants.
The sounds of moans filled the dark room, the only light was the illumination from the PC.
"Hggn.."
"Aagh.."
"Mmgh.."
[name] sat on his swivel chair and shamefully pumped his dick, his thoughts blanking quickly along with his pace.
Then [name] soon was whimpering before he used his free hand to cover his mouth to muffle his whines.
He threw his head back, his pajama pants weren't fully down, just pulled down enough to have his erect dick out.
His flushed pink tip oozed pearly precum down his length, his eyes half lidded on the brink of tears. His hand then slowed down, gently squeezing at the base as a quiet grunt escaped his lips.
[name] panted softly, trying to keep himself quiet, a low whimper, barely audible, escaped his lips as he arched his back, pressing his hips forward in an instinctive search for more stimulation.
With a final, strangled cry, his hips jerked forward as thick ropes of cum erupted from the tip of his dick, coating his palm.
The sensation was overwhelming, as the tears that were threatening to spill, dribbled down his warm cheeks.
[name] slumped back in his chair, he shuddered and twitched through the aftershocks, finally, with a shaky exhale, [name] released his softening dick from his grip.
He glanced at the clock, noting the late hour.
[name] let out a breath, then he stretched, arms above his head, back arching as the sound of popping could be heard, yawning.
He stood up, shuffled six steps to his bed, flopped down with the practiced grace of someone who has landed on this mattress ten thousand times before.
[name] pulled the blanket up close to his chin, curled up, shutting his eyes.
Then making a small, soft undignified noise into his pillow.