#manager kim

summary .𖥔 ݁ after weeks of feeling invisible to your husband goo kim, you go to a club hoping a little jealousy might bring back the fire between you. what starts as a desperate, innocent plan spirals into something dark and devastating when he misreads the situation completely. what’s destroyed is destroyed.

warnings: DARK CONTENT 18+ MDNI extreme dub-con, graphic accidental physical violence, heavy verbal degradation use of "slut" and "whore" repeatedly, misunderstanding, insecurity and fear of abandonment.

a/n: if any of the above is a trigger or a boundary for you, please skip this entirely. take care of yourself first 🩵

seven weeks had starved you.

goo kim used to devour you with his hands greedy, mouth filthy, body pinning yours like he’d die if he let go for even a second. now he ghosted through the apartment like smoke: home long enough to shower off the night’s violence, pressing the ghost of a kiss to your hairline, mutter “night, baby” to the dark, and roll away. the bed felt endless. you would lie there listening to his steady breathing, fingers twisted in the empty space where his arm used to curl around your waist, wondering when he stopped seeing you as home and started seeing you as obligation.

you still loved him with every fragile, foolish piece of yourself. that was the wound that never closed.

your friends saw how thin your laughter had become. they pulled you to the club with convincing you that “it’s just one night, just to remember you exist.” you let them because silence was killing you slower than noise ever could.

the dress you wore that night was blush silk, the one he once called too innocent to survive a single night with him. it clung now like apology: neckline slipping low over the soft curve of your breasts, hem fluttering against your thighs with every nervous step. you felt naked. you felt like a child wearing her mother’s lipstick to a funeral.

the club was all pulse and shadow the bass bruising your ribs, sweaty bodies grinding like they were trying to forget themselves. you let a man approach you because he looked harmless in the way rich men sometimes do. clean watch, practiced smile. you answered with shy giggles, let your fingers brush his sleeve when he leaned close, tilted your head the way goo used to lose his mind over.

you weren’t flirting. you were drowning and hoping someone would notice.

goo noticed. from the mezzanine, cigarette dying between his fingers, mid-sentence with men whose smiles were like sharp knives. his gaze slid down, casual then stuck to you. pale silk under violet light. that stranger’s palm flat against the dip of your spine. you flashed a small hopeful smile.

the cigarette hit the floor, and he crushed it beneath his shoe, grinding it out until the sole began to smoke.

when the man leaned in, lips grazing your ear with words that made your skin crawl, you turned your face away, trembling, apologetic. “i’m married,” you whispered. “sorry- i can’t.” he only tightened his grip on your wrist and tugged you toward the hallway. “he’s not here, sweetheart. let me fix that ache for you.”

fear bloomed sharp in your throat. the door crashed open. metal screaming against tile.

goo filled the frame like a storm breaking. no jacket, sleeves shoved up, veins tight along his forearms. his eyes were black. empty and bottomless. the man dropped your wrist like it was live wire and ran away.

goo crossed the room without a sound, seized your throat in one hand. fingers digging deep enough to bruise windpipe. and slammed you back against the sink counter so hard your skull cracked against porcelain. stars exploded behind your eyes.

“you disgusting little slut,” he said. the words were quiet. almost tender in their precision. that made them unbearable.

tears flooded instantly. “goo-

“don’t.” his thumb pressed into the soft hollow under your jaw, stealing air until black spots danced at the edges of your vision. with his other hand he ripped the dress from neckline to hem. silk gave way like wet tissue. your breasts spilled free; nipples pebbled painfully in the cold. he grabbed one and twisted the tender bud until your back bowed and a raw sob tore from your chest.

“these used to be mine,” he said, voice flat with contempt. “used to beg me to bite them until you cried. now you’re parading them for any cock with a credit card?”

“no! please- your hands lifted instinctively, fingertips brushing the open vee of his shirt, reaching for the man who once kissed your palms like they were holy. he caught your wrist and snapped it sideways. bone ground. pain lanced up your arm. you cried out in pain.

“don’t fucking touch me,” he snarled. “you don’t get to act like you still love me after you let him mark what’s mine.”

he spun you, slammed your chest down onto the marble the edge gouged your ribs. he kicked your legs apart, tore the panties down your thighs until they tangled at your ankles then shoved them aside with his boot. belt clattered. zipper rasped like a threat.

he forced himself inside you in one savage thrust. thick, unforgiving, tearing your tender walls that hadn’t felt him in weeks. you screamed. shattered, he gave no quarter and fucked you like erasure: brutal, pounding, hips slamming forward with such force your body jerked against the counter with every stroke. wet, obscene slaps filled the room. your tears ran sideways across cold marble, pooling beneath your cheek.

“this what you came for? huh?” he hissed, knotting his fingers in your hair and yanking your head back until your throat stretched taut. “wanted to be fucked like a back alley whore? wanted some stranger to split this cunt open while i’m out dying for you?”

“no-goo! stop- your voice splintered into sobs.

he slapped the curve of your ass. vicious, open-handed then again, and again, until skin blazed scarlet and you shook so hard your teeth rattled.

“shut up,” he said. “you don’t get to cry now. you don’t get to play the fragile little angel when you’re dripping around my cock like the desperate slut you are.”

you reached back. blind, stupid, still hoping fingers grazing his hip, trying to hold him, to remind him you were his.

he seized your arm, twisted it behind your back until the socket screamed, pinned it with crushing weight between your bodies. “i said don’t touch me,” he spat. “you’re nothing. you’re less than nothing. just a used-up hole that forgot who it belongs to.”

he fucked harder. deeper, each thrust a punishment, chasing something blacker than release. he reached under you, found your clit, pinched it cruelly and twisted until you shrieked.

“if you’re so fucking unhappy,” he said, voice low and venomous, each syllable a striking at you like a blade, “then just leave. pack your shit tonight. walk out that door. go find your club prince. let’s see how long he lasts when he realizes you’re just a needy little whore who can’t keep her legs shut.”

the words landed like acid in an open wound. something inside you collapsed.

ugly, heaving sobs ripped out, childlike, devastating. “i don’t want to leave,” you cried, your voice cracking open. “i love you—i love you so much. i just wanted you to see me again. please don’t make me go—please don’t hate me-

he kept thrusting.once, twice more…then stopped. buried to the hilt.

he looked down at you. your dress in ruins, body trembling, face streaked with tears and mascara, arm twisted at an ugly angle, bruises already darkening like storm clouds across your throat, your wrist, your hips. you were still trying. still trying to reach for him with the hand he hadn’t accidentally broken. his grip loosened.

then fell away entirely. he pulled out so suddenly you whimpered at the loss. your knees buckled, you began to slide down the wall.

he caught you in an instant, dropped to his knees on the filthy tile and dragged your shaking body into his chest. one arm locked around your waist, the other cradled the back of your head as though you might shatter if he breathed wrong.

“baby,” he whispered. the word came out ruined. “baby. fuck- fuck! you curled into him like you’d been waiting your whole life to do it, face buried in his throat, sobbing so hard your whole body jerked. “i didn’t… i pushed him… i swear… i only wanted you… i’m sorry… i’ll be better… please don’t hate me…”

he rocked you in desperate motions his face pressed to your hair, breathing ragged. “i don’t hate you. god, i could never-i thought-i thought you were finally done. thought i’d finally driven you away. thought you’d looked at me one morning and realized i was never coming back the way i used to.”

you shook your head against him, fingers clutching his shirt. “never. i could never be done with you.”

the regret hit him then about how bad he has fucked up. not clean, not poetic. it was visceral it felt as if a hand reached into his ribcage, wrapped a fist around his heart, and twisted until he couldn’t draw breath. every bruise on your skin, every tear track, every broken sob. he had put them there. he had taken the only person who ever looked at him like he was worth saving and tried to break her so she couldn’t leave first.

he carried you out. past the staring faces, past the music, past the world. holding you like something stolen back from hell.

at home he ran you a bath so warm steam fogged the mirrors. undressed you with hands that shook like leaves in wind. kissed every mark as it bloomed: the purple fingerprints on your throat, the swollen wrist, the handprints seared across your hips and ass. he washed you slowly. soaped every inch with reverent circles, murmuring apologies against your temple, your collarbone, the pulse point under your jaw.

“i’m so fucking sorry, baby.” he whispered over and over, voice cracking each time. “i was terrified. i was so fucking terrified of losing you that i tried to make sure you’d hate me first. i’m a coward. i’m a monster. but i love you. i love you more than i know how to live with.”

in bed he laid you down on clean sheets. kissed your mouth. soft and slow, trembling. when he entered you again it was careful, deliberate, eyes never leaving yours.

“i love you,” he said with every measured roll of his hips. “i love you. i love you. i’m never saying those words again. you’re never leaving. you’re never unwanted. you’re my entire fucking existence.”

you wrapped your legs around him, soft gasps mingling with his, fingers threading through his hair. “i’m here,” you whispered. “i’m not going.”

he made love to you like atonement. deep, unhurried, hands laced tight with yours, mouth tracing every line of your face as though memorizing it in case he ever forgot again. when you came it was quiet, trembling, safe; you whispered his name like prayer. he followed with a low, broken groan, spilling inside you, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to crawl inside your skin and stay there forever.

afterward he stayed buried, arms locked around you, his nose pressed to your hair, fingers stroking slow, endless patterns down your spine.

the regret didn’t fade. it settled deep and permanent. every time he closed his eyes he saw your face against that counter, tears pooling, body shaking under his cruelty. every time he looked at your wrist he saw the faint shadow of his own fingers. it lived in his throat like a stone he couldn’t swallow.

“no more nights apart,” he said quietly, voice rough. “no more letting anything come before you. if i ever make you feel small again, you can walk away i won’t hold you back if i am in the wrong. but god help me, i’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to.”

you gave a small, watery laugh against his chest. “promise?”

“on every breath i’ve got left,” he murmured. he kissed your forehead. held you closer. “you’re my priority. my only fucking priority. always were. i just forgot how to breathe without being by your side.”

you traced the line of his jaw with a fingertip. “i love you, goo.”

he pressed his lips to your hairline, eyes burning. “i love you more,” he said, voice thick. “and i’m never letting that go quiet again.” the room was still except for your snoring against his chest. home. he was your home, even though what he did was unforgivable in your eyes but you knew he promised what he meant.

I find it so affirming as a person who struggles with their romantic orientatation. I just live for that state of not quite friends/not quite lovers.

Like yes, they are partners, yes, they live and die for eachother, yes, every other relationship they have loses all meaning compared to them. But also no, they haven't kissed, and they don't want to kiss, and yet, somehow, every single word, every single glance, every single touch carries so much meaning and conveys so much love because this amount of platonic love is usually unheard of and they don't want the other to misunderstand. And I just- aaah, it gives me so much hope and reminds me that romantic love isn’t the only type of love worth experiencing and showing on screen/paper.

I do wish it was done intentionally and wasn’t just a product of homophobia and capitalism. Like I really, really hate the reason I get this representation. Like, it also leaves a somewhat sour taste in my mouth, because I can see that if the world was more accepting, it would probably be a romantic relationship.

Quality (tentative since some are incomplete) (probably still biased but not on purpose like the other one):

1. My Life as a Loser

This manhwa is the only reason I believe any manhwa PTJ is involved in is still capable of sticking the landing. It gets to be at the top of the quality ranking because its pacing is consistent, it doesn't do anything unnecessary, and it delivers on exactly what it promises. Its characters have goals that they achieve. It has an ending that is satisfying for everyone involved. This should not be the bar, but unfortunately it is. Its characters have the stupid charming flair of many PTJ verse characters and its ending actually feels suitable and well deserved.

2. Juvenile Offender

The only other PTJ verse manhwa that has a decent ending. I think these two combined are just joint proof that this company only makes good manhwa when given a length restriction. I would assume it's just because both main characters have such obvious goals from the get-go that they didn't have wiggle room to make up a new goal (stop the drug war! take over gangbuk!) midway through the story. Some absolutely heinous things happened in this manhwa to the point where I felt physically ill reading it, but ultimately I think it had something it wanted to say and it carried that message faithfully and with a decent amount of flair. The main character has a goal, he works for his goal, and he achieves his goal. Congratulations yay. Good work all around

3. Lookism

This manhwa is dogshit from a broader plot perspective. Its pacing is terrible. It has zero (0) consistency whatsoever. Being a fan of it is like being trapped in the manhwa reader torment nexus for ever. I have however moved it up fairly high in the quality showdown because the parts of it that are good are really good. It has more complex characters than almost every manhwa in here. Johan Seong ripped my heart out and stopped on it in steel toed boots. If every one of these manhwa were only being represented by their best-written moments, Lookism would unquestionably be at the top, but it is just so bad that it cancels out also being so good. Every other manhwa in here it handles women terribly, but it is the only one that is so bad at handling women that there are just no women at all whatsoever for 200 chapters. Its morals are questionable at best if you operate under the assumption that it has any at all. It switches genres halfway through and does not turn back even once. I hate it. Everyone I know should read it

4. Viral Hit

God I wanted to put this higher than Lookism just because it at least had the decency to end. But I’m sorry I just hated the ending so much. I guess the problem is Hobin is not at his core a protagonist who seeks out trouble, he has increasingly worse Situations happen to him and he reacts accordingly, but it all just felt terribly anticlimatic. I did put it above the other three on account of having Baek Seongjun in it, but I think Viral Hit and Lookism both have really good parts and really bad parts, but Lookism has a lot of both, while Viral Hit has a handful of good parts, mild bad qualities, and a huge expanse of really mid parts that altogether don’t make it as memorable. It has more consistent quality than Lookism, but it doesn’t have as many shining points to bring it up.

5. Manager Kim

Lowkey this manhwa forgot what its purpose was immediately after the first arc. The entire time I was reading it I was thinking wow this plot could have been a one shot. Lookism loses sight of its goal, but Manager Kim achieves its goal within thirty chapters and spends the next two hundred or so wandering around headless. Additionally, despite all of them technically being power fantasy shounen, Manager Kim feels like it has the lowest stakes of all, because while Daniel and Hobin and Suhyeon are all OP as hell, there is still a chance they will lose. Manager Kim does not lose. He would not be Manager Kim if he lost. This is probably the issue with taking a guy whose original role is Infallible Mentor and then trying to write a story about him without ever undermining that original impression. It just doesn’t work. I have never been concerned ever the entire time reading this whether Manager Kim was going to succeed, and that feels like a genuine failure.

6. Questism

Oh my god where do I even start. This manhwa is so bad. This manhwa is SO bad. I want to kill everyone involved in the making of this manhwa. The pacing is dogshit. Suhyeon is little more than a plot device and experiences no character development whatsoever over the course of the entire story. Not a single character in this manhwa develops substantially during the time it occurs actually all of the people who experience change went through that change prior to it. The only ones who change in action do so because their have the evil magically removed from their brains. What do you mean your main villain spends ten chapters explaining a backstory that amounts to ‘actually he was always evil’ and then smash cuts to him jumping off a building and then that’s it?? Plot wise this manhwa has no redeeming qualities. I was so ready to rank this manhwa higher because it was the only one with the guts to involve actual queer people instead of fanservice bait that never goes anywhere, but it is hilariously bad and its ending borders on unreadable.

7. Laws of the Good Child

This manhwa did not lose sight of what it wanted to do, it just becomes increasingly apparent it never knew what it wanted to do to begin with. We are losing the plot at an incredible rate. I’ve been reading it since it had like fifteen chapters and it just kept getting further and further away from what was already a barely substantial goal. It treats its characters like cannon fodder. Its pacing is patently terrible. I could not tell you at any given point who the antagonist actually is because it changes its mind on this every other chapter. I also barely remember the names of anyone in it despite it being one of the ones I kept up with most recently. I like it but it is quite simply indefensibly not good.

Extremely biased personal scaling:

the text is from our blondie. read them!

oooooo, our babygirl is a cool and serious man at work~ 👀

summary: headcanons of manager nam x fem! reader

pairing: manager nam x reader

details: mentions of using contraception . not much of warnings other than that . anon request . all headcanons are my opinion, i'm not forcing you to agree with them! . all dividers used are from @cafekitsune . all pictures used are from pinterest

a/n: i love him i love him i love him i love him when yall see this man i want you to immediately think of me and the im his main im his side im every woman that's in his mind sound because he's my goat oh my fosh 🤑 anyways, enjoy babes! thanks for the ask, this was highkey fun to make.

And if you do can you make one about mr kim.

And if you did please dont do it smut.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. manager kim x reader .

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. your daughter set you up with your ex-husband even though you ended in bad terms — well you ended in bad terms, he had his reasons .

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. ~1.3k .

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff. f!reader. INSPIRED BY DETECTIVE CONAN. self - made au kinda ! [reader is not replacing the actual mother, they got married after manager kim's past] . spoiler - free. safe for minors! crappy writing. manager kim's name never got mentioned. manager kim may seem ooc .

　“PLEASE!”

Minji plead, ready to get down onto her knees what she swore to never do infront of someone. But it's you we're talking about. And you're undoubtedly the mother Minji never had, who was once happily married with her father. But due to unknown reasons, you two divorced — he divorced you for whatever reason without letting you know the reason. You're still angry, up to this day.

"Get up, Minji. We're done discussing about this topic." you began pinching her ear with one hand, letting her yelp in pain.

"But mom! Dad is hopeless. You're hopeless too. You two aren't even interested in dating, only staring at your rings." she complained, finally standing up, "why are you even wearing those rings?!"