#tekken x reader

𝒥𝐼𝒩 𝒦𝒜𝒵𝒜𝑀𝒜!

the lighting of fate’s got a taste for more things than one. to start off, it's absolutely thighs. jin’s whole personality is about control, nonchalance and repression; so of course he’s obsessed with the one part of you he can pretend he’s not staring at. he loves the way they look wrapped around his tapered waist, how they tremble when he’s fucking into you ever so slowly, the way you squeeze down then around him whenever you’re close. he’s always cupping the soft underside of your full thighs, squeezing just a bit too long. and when he’s kneeling between your legs, face hovering over your inner leg? he looks just about ready to make you cry on his mouth and press those thighs around his head.  

there’s another particular . . interest of his, one that he’d never openly admit. jin swears he’s above it, tries to convince himself he’s disciplined, focused—  but the second you walk in with even a hint of cleavage, his dark eyes drop before he can stop them, and he feels the shame hit heavy like a blow to the chest. he’s helplessly drawn to the softness, the round warmth, the comfort he’s never known, and when he finally gets to touch you, he turns ravenous; kissing down your supple chest like he’s starving, sucking your pert nipples with quiet, shaking breaths, kneading the swell of your breasts like he’s trying to memorize their weight in his warm palms. any position where he can watch them bounce wrecks him completely; you riding him has him burying his face between your tits to hide the way he whimpers. in missionary, when you pull him in by the hair, fingers threaded into dark unruly spikes, he breaks right there above you. clutching at your waist and thrusting desperately, whispering “don’t let go.” and when he tilts his hips upwards to finish on your chest, watching it drip down your smooth warmed skin, he looks dazed, licking it off his fingers and dipping low to clean your chest with the slow drag of his tongue. 

𝒦𝒜𝒵𝒰𝒴𝒜 𝑀𝐼𝒮𝐻𝐼𝑀𝒜!

kazuya is an ass man to the coreee! in fact, he’s disrespectfully fixated and won’t pretend otherwise. he loves how the weight of it fills his palms, the way it gives in under his relentless grip, the wave of ripples when he slaps it. he’s mesmerized by the curve of it when you’re bent over, that perfect arch that makes his breath hitch. his crimson eyes glower and narrow like he’s about to ruin something expensive. he’s obsessed with the spread of it too, the way your thighs part when he makes you hold yourself open, the way he can drag his thumbs over the softest part and watch you shiver. and god, how responsive it is, you are, to him— how it jiggles when he smacks it and drags you back onto his cock, how the fat of your cheeks ripple when he’s pounding into you so relentlessly. he kneads it, bites it, marks it, lifts it, uses it. and when he finally fucks you from behind, hand locked around your nape, the other gripping your hip so hard you know you’ll see fingerprints later. he revels in the echoing slap of skin, watches you takes every thrust like you were made for him.

𝐻𝒲𝒪𝒜𝑅𝒜𝒩𝒢!

loudly and proudly, ass and thighs. he wants the wholeee bottom half. what else do you expect from the master of taekwondo? that man is a menace behind a motorcycle and an absolute problem in bed; it’s honestly a miracle if he keeps his hands to himself for more than ten seconds. hwoarang slaps it like he’s testing the recoil on a new weapon, grabs it with both hands like he owns it, lifts you by it just to hear you gasp and cling to him. doggy-style is practically his religion. he loves the ripple when he snaps his hips forward, that perfect aftershock that makes him groan through his teeth; he’ll yank you back by the waist just to see it bounce again, biting his lip like he’s watching his favorite sin. when you walk past him, what follows is a sharp smack and a stupidly smug grin. whenever you bend over? there goes his grumbly involuntary groan. and when you sit on his lap, he’s instantly hard, grinding up into you like he can’t help it. when he finally gets you alone, hwoarang spreads you with calloused thumbs, pressing into the small divots of your back, breath hot at your ear with his bulge to your perked butt. 

𝐿𝒜𝑅𝒮 𝒜𝐿𝐸𝒳𝒜𝒩𝒟𝐸𝑅𝒮𝒮𝒪𝒩!

hips. he’s a gentleman; direct, polite, strategic. and he is obsessed with the gradual, elegant curve of your hips. his palms settle there almost automatically, guiding you into his firm lap, pulling you closer, squeezing gently like he’s appreciating fine art. he loves grinding you against him, loves the soft dip where your waist meets your hips. he guides you onto his thighs with that controlled strength of his, pulling you close, grinding you down against the thick weight straining his pants, murmuring a low, breathy, “just like that . . . perfect.” he loves the silhouette you make when you arch for him, loves how your hips tilt when he drags his hands along them. he ruts into you from behind with a hand circling that curve as he groans into your skin, his chestnut-brown hair grazing your shoulder, “these hips were made for my hands.” 

𝐿𝐸𝐸 𝒞𝐻𝒜𝒪𝐿𝒜𝒩!

lee is a man of luxury; he indulges, he savors, he worships. so of course he’s a titties man through and through! he massages your breasts with warm squeezes and slow rubs, like he’s performing the best skincare. he moans into them, nestles his face between them, and loves nothing more than falling asleep there like it’s his personal pillow. he loves having you on top, bouncing prettily in the soft light of his grand rose-petaled room while his large hands grip your waist and his eyes stay locked on your chest, following every perfect bounce and sway. and hen he gets that mouth of his on you? he sucks your nipples slowly, decadently, tongue dragging warm circles while you tug on his perfectly styled lilac hair. that’s when he purrs— actually purrs— into your skin, "you look marvelous, my love," vibrating against your chest like you’re his sweetest indulgence.

𝒮𝐸𝑅𝒢𝐸𝐼 𝒟𝑅𝒜𝒢𝒰𝒩𝒪𝑉!

neck & collarbone, because sergei’s tastes have always been rather niche. mister soldier is a peculiarly different kind of man. dragunov is feral about you, but through that all-consuming silence of his. he’s obsessed with the delicate, vulnerable parts of you; probably because they’re the only soft thing he’s allowed to touch. he licks your throat long and slow in one devastating stroke, bites the slope of your shoulder hard enough to make you gasp, nips at your jugular with a low grunt that feels like a blaring warning. whenever he sinks into your pulsing center, he leans in and buries his nose in the warm hollow where your neck meets your collarbone, breathing you in like he’s starving. he pins your wrists above your head with one large hand, unshakably steady, while the other drags down your sternum as he marks you in sharp lines of teeth. he’s possessive, yet methodical in the most animalistic way. he doesn’t say shit; never does. he just breathes against your skin, hot and heavy, eyes half-lidded and hungry, watching the way you melt underneath his broad, immovable frame.

𝒞𝐿𝒜𝒰𝒟𝐼𝒪 𝒮𝐸𝑅𝒜𝐹𝐼𝒩𝒪!

claudio my angelll! i feel like he’d be into thighs & tits, but in this guilt-shrouded holy shame. claudio is a sinner with a complex, a walking contradiction wrapped in italian silks and timeless scripture. he tries so hard to be above it, to keep his eyes lifted toward heaven— but the second your warm, soft thighs wrap around his head? he forgets the choir, forgets the doctrine, forgets God. he sucks bruises into the softest parts of your inner thigh, resolve crumbling once he encircles your throbbing little clit with his eager tongue. he tastes of you, grows drunk on the sweetness in a way wine could never do to him, and spouts weak excuses. eats you out and says that he shouldn’t, but he’s lying through his teeth. you feel it in the way he groans. and your boobs? he stares too long, palms them too gently, loses his place mid-prayer when they brush his arm. when claudio finally gives in, he ruins your sanctity and himself right along with you; fucking into you like salvation and damnation are the same thing.

𝒮𝐻𝒜𝐻𝐸𝐸𝒩!

this prince adores your waist / stomach with a devotion so breathtaking. he’s ridiculously tender about it too, a man of steel hands yet light touches. shaheen loves the softness beneath his palms when he lifts your shirt slowly, savoring the warmth settling in his palms. loves kissing just above your navel. loves when you arch into him and he can feel your breath stutter by the seizing tremble at your torso. if shaheen’s on top, he’ll hold your waist and guide you down on his cock, gripping tight as though he’s safeguarding gold. when you ride him, he strokes your stomach with careful fingertips, the most beautiful reverence. he worships gently, his stubble grazing your skin as he murmurs sweet praises against your throat.  

𝒮𝒯𝐸𝒱𝐸 𝐹𝒪𝒳!

undeniably ass. boxer behavior, through and through. he grabs a handful every time he pulls you into a kiss, smacking it playfully just to watch it bounce with eager storm-blue eyes. he loves how your ass moves when he grinds you down on him, loves pinning your hips just to see the recoil when you try to wiggle free. reverse cowgirl is his personal heaven; the man loses his entire mind. head thrown back, throat bobbing, messy blond hair plastered to his temples as you slam down on him and make a complete fucking mess out of the man. his fight-worn hands squeeze your cheeks like he’s molding them, breath breaking into rough, needy groans that shake his whole chest.

𝐹𝒜𝐻𝒦𝒰𝑀𝑅𝒜𝑀!

fahkumran is tit-obsessed, but in the sweetest way. big man, big hands, and an even bigger love for softness. he loves pressing your chest against him during missionary, loves cupping your breasts in gigantic tattooed palms even though his hands swallow them whole. he nuzzles into them when he leans halfway down to hug you, sighs into them when he’s tired, groans against them when he’s hard. he can lift you like it’s absolutely nothing; one huge veined arm holding your ass, the other gripping your tit as he sucks your nipple until you’re whining and clinging to him.

𝑀𝒜𝑅𝒮𝐻𝒜𝐿𝐿  𝐿𝒜𝒲!

law’s mischievous, energetic, playful to no literal end. of course he’s an ass man. he smacks it when you’re cooking, grabs it when you’re hugging, uses it to derail arguments by squeezing it mid-sentence. in bed, he’ll have you bent over in a heartbeat, hands spreading you open so he can watch every tiny twitch, every clench. he’ll spank you just to watch your recoiling flesh bloom red, laughing at how cutely you squirm. 

𝒫𝒜𝒰𝐿 𝑃𝐻𝒪𝐸𝒩𝐼𝒳!

paul loves tits like it’s his only life purpose outside the iron fist tournament. just unserious and absolutely shameless. a well-aged himbo, if you will. he lays his face on your chest like a human cat, just sprawls there. he sleeps there, talks there, drifts off there while absentmindedly squishing them during tv shows as you’re raking through his long blonde tresses. he holds your breasts steadily, squeezes them just right, kisses them like good luck charms. but riding paul? oh, you’re gonna break him. you lean forward, offer him your chest, and he goes feral— blue eyes rolling back, huge hands squeezing you closer, his voice turning deep and wrecked as he grunts against your skin.

Jin Kazama didn’t celebrate birthdays.

He sometimes forgot his own. It wasn’t out of pride or modesty. He just didn’t mark the day anymore. Not after what happened when he was fifteen.

It was easier to ignore it. Easier to treat it like any other day and move on.

But you remembered.

Because you knew the truth beneath all that steel and silence. Jin was just a boy who never got the chance to grow up softly. A boy who learned how to carry pain instead of candles.

That’s why you planned today.Not to throw a party, not to surprise him, but just to remind him he was still human. Still worth warmth.

You’d slept on top of him, your usual place. Chest to chest, head tucked into the crook of his neck. Jin never minded. He was broad enough to hold you, strong enough to stay still while you drifted off.

He, of course, hadn’t slept. He rarely did.But he rubbed your back gently, patiently, until your eyes blinked open.

“Jin…” you murmured, voice groggy. “You know what day it is?”

He stared up at the ceiling. “Tuesday?”

You laughed and sat up, his hand still curled loosely around your waist.

“No, dummy. It’s your birthday.”

He didn’t move. Just lay there, eyes dull, like the word hadn’t landed right.

You didn’t expect him to be excited. You knew Jin didn’t want streamers or balloons or voices singing his name off-key. He didn’t want a surprise. He didn’t want attention.

But you wanted him to feel something other than numb. Even if just for one day.

You started small. Made his tea the one he always made for himself, steeped exactly how he liked it. Same cup. The one with the chipped rim he never replaced.

Next to it, a folded note. No “Happy Birthday.” Just:

Jin.

Thought you might like something warm.

You didn’t hover. You didn’t smother him. But you made sure the day moved smoother. You rerouted a meeting, adjusted the training schedule, cleared the noise from his path. It was quiet the way he liked it like the world was holding its breath.

That evening, he finally said something.

“Darling… I appreciate all of this. But it’s just another day.”

You shook your head. “Jin, please. Just tell me—what do you want?”

His eyes flicked to you, almost pained. “Y/N… don’t. You don’t have to celebrate everything.”

Before you could answer, his arms were around your waist. He lifted you up effortless and placed you on the table like you weighed nothing.

“What do you want for lunch?” he asked, hand still resting at your hip.

You punched his shoulder lightly. “No, Jin. I’m making us lunch.”

Dinner was his favorite.Or at least, your best attempt at it. You’d never made it before, but you watched the video twice, checked every step, ruined the kitchen in the process.

No cake. Just a candle. One small flame to warm the room.

“I know you didn’t ask for any of this,” you said as you set the plates down. “But I thought… maybe it would help. Even just a little.”

He didn’t speak. Just sat and ate in silence, sipping tea between bites. But you caught it the exhale. The tiny, nearly invisible breath that left his chest like something unclenching.

After dinner, the lights stayed off.

The soft glow of the candle, faint music, your head on his shoulder, his hand resting on your thigh.

Still, something gnawed at you.You don’t feel any satisfaction after all you done today.

“Was it okay, Jin?” You asked ,

He didn’t answer right away. Just turned his head, slowly. His eyes darker than usual. Like something long-buried had shifted.

“…You really remembered,” he said with a rough voice “Even though I never talk about it.”

You didn’t let go. You reached for his shirt, tugging him gently toward you.

“Why?” he asked quietly, eyes still fixed on the scenery outside. “Do you think I’ll forget?”

You pulled at his collar again. “Jin… you still haven’t answered me.”

He blinked.

“What do you want for your birthday?” you asked again, brushing your fingers along his cheek. Guiding his face to meet yours. “Tell me.”

And finally, he said it.

“…I just want you.”

You didn’t breathe. Just watched him.

“In a… desperate way,” he added, almost ashamed. His eyes dropped to the floor.

You knew what that meant. Knew what he couldn’t say aloud.And you were already his, weren’t you?

“fuck…..Good girl”

Jin had you on your knees, dressed in nothing but that sweet little thong he never let you wear for long. Your breath hitched as he spread his legs wider, settling into the chair like a king on a throne. One gloved hand fisted gently in your hair while the other rested against his thigh. You struggled with the buckle of his belt, eyes flicking up to him.His cock already sprung out . Huge and thick while his head’s swollen dripping with a pre-cum.

“Already…wet?” Fuck yes , you’re so wet that you can feel a dripping on your legs , You stared at him , god you need to taste this big guy , every touch , every kiss ,

“Jin…Please….” Your whisper makes him gulped on his own saliva , Jin’s still blushing and his finger pushing your lips gently.

“Come on sweetheart…”

Your hand finally reached out to massage his cock slowly and you started to jerk it while letting a string of saliva fall from your mouth.You pressed your thumb on his tip and smeared the pre-cum all over his dick.

He was thick. Bigger than you remembered. You hadn’t touched him like this in too long, and he felt even heavier in your hand , your pace picking up as his hips gave a subtle twitch in response.

“Fuuckk fucckk sweetheart”

Jin start to losing his mind when he can feel your tongue swirling all over his tip . You still jerking his big fat cock while taking his whole length in your mouth.You started to choked ,

“mmghh-Jin”

“Fuck sweetheart , take it slow..okay?” He grabbed your chin and start to pull it away from his dick , just to not hurt you.

“Fuckkk such a good girl aren’t you sweetheart?”Both of Jin’s head on your head . He’s controlling the bobbing of your head , back and forth , forth and back while you’re still jerking his dick , up and down like a dildo.

You looked up at him through your lashes while you’re still sucking the sould out of him.His jaw was clenched, his body trembling.You were unraveling him.

From that , you find your hand starts to gently rub his heavy balls while your mouth is full of his huge cock and his pre-cum.

“Shit , sweetheart .I’m going to…c..cum” Jin’s face is red and he starts to whimper desperately , looking at you with his unsteady breathing while controlling the pace of your head sucking his dick off. You didn’t stop. Not even when he whimpere and came with a broken groan at the back of his throat.

He finally lets a cum shot send at the back of your throat , You swallowed around him, held him deep until his hands loosened. He finally releases your head and you make a sound of pop while he pulls out his dick from you.

“Open your mouth” He demanded , you don't hesitate . You just stuck out your tongue and he released it on your face.His thumb started to clean the remaining cum on your lips , “Good Girl…..”

“mmghh-fuck -Jin!”

Jin didn’t fuck around when he given a chances to fucking you raw , he will atleast to savour it by fucking you 2 or 3 times until you found dumb in the next of the morning.For some reason , he still can draw an innocent face while ruining your little hole with his big cock.

“Fuuckk Jin , no more!”

You’re now riding his cock , since it’s his birthday you promised to him that you will treat him.

“Sweetheart…You promise me..you will take my big cock like the good girl you are right?” He whispers to you , as his mushroom headed tip stuck at the entrance of your tight little pussy.Yes , it was just a tip and it can make you cry out like a baby.

“Fuck , so fucking little compared to me hm?” He said while his huge veiny hands grabbed your waist , controlling it while lifting you up and down.Your clit start to perfectly rolled against his pelvic bone .

“Don’t worry , your pretty pussy will fit in a few seconds….” He whisper as his mushroom tip fucking your tight pussy to make an entrance , you shook your head and start to push his shoulder with your hand.

“Jin–mmgh–She wants you now , she wants you to ruin her…please…”

Fuck , that’s what he want to hear .

One of his hand flew to your clit and he start to pinch it hard as he continue to fuck your wall . “Fuuck baby that’s it , good girl get what she wants hm?”

He began bucking his upwards inside you , he finally made you bounce you on his cock in a devilish pace. You can feel his veiny dick inside you , you whine and your head starts to feel dizzy.

You went dumb over his cock , you can’t even shutted your eyes while his dick bullying your walls.The pressure in your stomach aches as you can feel his finger still playing with your clit like a controller.

“Mmm jin…I’m going to ah! C..Cum!” Your moan desperately as his cock still bullying you while you’re riding him.

“Hm? Then cum with me baby , want this pretty pussy cum for me yea?”

He finally pushed you down , thrusting you deeper and deeper . He makes you throw your head back as he cock thrusts you up and down.Your orgasm finally ends with a squirt , and fuck yea you squirt all over his tip .

“That’s it baby….fuck…” Jin praised you , you can feel his dick twitch inside you.You can feel his large cock filling you up as you can hear his groan desperately with pure ecstasy.

Your body starts to wear out as you just want to collapse right there but then Jin lifts you from his cock , making sure you’re not going to hurt anymore by picking you up carefully. He lay you on your shared sheet then he start to kissed you , like a lot . He kissed every part of your face , your temple , your cheel , your lips. You’re struggling to say such a word with that kiss.

After a long pause, he finally said, “I stopped celebrating after she died.”

You didn’t move. You’re surprised by the confession that came out of nowhere and It’s happened after sex.

“Every year, it just reminded me of her voice,” he said, staring into the flame. “Of how she used to wake me up with a hug and a tray of sweets. Of how she called me her little star.”

A beat passed as you let him to speak up ,

“And after that… it became a reminder of what came next. The Devil Gene. My father. What I became.” He let out a one single breath , this one you can hear the shakiness in his rough-deep-voice

“I didn’t think I deserved to be celebrated. I still don’t.”

You reached the stand of his hair , “Then let me celebrate you,” you whispered. “Even if you can’t. Let me love you. Even when you won’t.”

“Thank you….Y/N”

Jin Kazama

You were sitting on the bathroom floor, hands trembling as you stared at the positive pregnancy test. You knew the dangers of being romantically involved with Jin Kazama. The threats you’d already received for being close to him were a stark reminder that the world wasn't a safe haven for your love. And now, with a baby on the way, the risks seemed to multiply exponentially.

"Have courage," you whispered to yourself, trying to quell the rising tide of fear. "You are strong... You will take care of this." But the words felt hollow and inadequate against the wave of doubts crashing over you. How would Jin react?

Later that day, when Jin arrived home, he immediately sensed that something was amiss. The sadness etched on your face worried him deeply. He approached you, his expression a mixture of affection and concern, and asked softly, "What's wrong?"

"We need to talk," you replied, your voice trembling.

You sat side by side on the couch, your bodies tense and unyielding. You took a shaky breath, searching for the right words to articulate the storm raging within you.

"I've been experiencing some changes... and I took a test today... I... I don't know how it happened, we were so careful, but... I'm pregnant," you confessed, tears streaming down your face.

Jin's reaction was exactly what you had dreaded: silence. He didn't shout, he didn't cry, he didn't express any emotion whatsoever. He simply sat there, frozen, his gaze fixed on some distant point. In his mind, a whirlwind of thoughts collided in a matter of seconds.

He thought of you, your safety, the ever-present danger you faced simply by being with him. He thought of his child, the potential for them to inherit the Devil Gene, the difficult life that could await them. He remembered his own childhood, how he was manipulated and used by the very people who were supposed to care for him: his father and grandfather. How could he possibly be a good father? It was his fault, his love for you had placed you both in jeopardy.

But then, amidst the chaos of his thoughts, a memory surfaced: his mother. The strong, resilient woman who raised him alone, who fought to protect him.

In one swift movement, Jin pulled you into a warm, comforting embrace. With your head resting against his chest, you could feel the rapid beat of his heart.

"Jin... What are we going to do?" you asked, your voice choked with tears.

"Darling..." he replied, his words filled with love and unwavering conviction. "You've just given me one more reason to live and fight."

Those words, spoken by Jin, who was usually so reserved and guarded with his feelings, were a powerful declaration of love.

"Don't worry," he continued, "You're strong and brave. We'll face this together."

In that moment, Jin's only thought was protecting his new family. He held you close, as if trying to shield you from all the evils of the world. A single tear escaped his eye as he realized this was his chance to break the cycle, to do things differently, to avoid the mistakes of his father and grandfather. He would give everything he had to his family. In his heart, he wished his mother could be there to share the joyous news.

During pregnancy:

Jin Kazama, with his naturally reserved and protective nature, would become your personal guardian during your pregnancy. He would feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility and would stop at nothing to ensure your safety and well-being. The memories of his own troubled childhood, the absence of a father, would fuel his determination to provide the opposite experience for his own child.

He would likely compile a detailed dossier on every doctor's appointment, every test, every stage of the baby's development. He would become a self-taught expert on prenatal nutrition, creating balanced and personalized meal plans for you. And, of course, he would ensure your utmost comfort, arranging for relaxing massages, providing extra pillows, and anticipating your every need.

Jin would be a "24/7 husband" during your pregnancy. He would be constantly attentive, observing your every move, every expression, every flicker of discomfort. His protective instincts would intensify to the point where he might install security cameras throughout the house and hire personal security to accompany you on outings.

And, as mentioned before, Jin's love language is acts of service. He would happily embrace the role of "malewife", taking care of all household chores, from dishes to laundry, allowing you to rest and focus on nurturing the baby. This was a side of Jin that only you knew.

At the slightest hint of fatigue, Jin would mobilize his extensive network of contacts to secure the most qualified medical professionals in the country, ensuring you receive VIP treatment throughout your pregnancy.

On fatherhood:

Jin would be a devoted and loving father, determined to break the cycle of violence and abandonment that defined his own upbringing. He would want his child to feel loved, protected, and secure, and would dedicate himself to providing that unconditionally.

You can be certain he would never, under any circumstances, even consider throwing his child off a cliff! Instead, he would commit himself to instilling in his heir the values he holds dear: respect, compassion for all living beings, altruism, and unwavering integrity.

And, naturally, Jin would teach his kid self-defense. After all, a Kazama must be able to protect themselves. But he would do so responsibly, imparting self-defense techniques and martial arts skills with the explicit purpose of protection, not aggression.

Jin would likely want only one child, at least initially. He would be deeply concerned about the possibility of passing on the Devil Gene and would want to focus all his attention and love on a single child. Perhaps, after confirming his child is free of the cursed gene, he might consider expanding his family.

He would strive to be his son's best friend, a present and involved father who actively participates in his child's development and education. He would always be there to listen, to play, to offer guidance and unwavering support. Jin would be a father who inspires his son to become the best version of himself, encouraging him to pursue his dreams and fight for what he believes in.

Hwoarang

Your boyfriend should have been home by now. You sent him a message hours ago, but he hadn't replied. "Ugh! I'm so excited to tell him the news!", you muttered to yourself, pacing your apartment. Today was the day you'd finally reveal you were pregnant. Only Master Baek knew so far.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Master Baek Doo San. He said Hwoarang was training late at the dojo again and that he was practically begging you to come get him. He even added a pleading face emoji, a sight you never thought you'd see from Master Baek.

You rolled your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. Hwoarang and his dedication to training... it was a constant source of amusement and sometimes, mild exasperation, but you secretly admired his passion.

"Okay, Master Baek," you texted back. "I'm on my way. And I'm going to give him a piece of my mind for not answering my messages!"

Grabbing your keys, you left the apartment, a playful scolding already forming in your mind. "He's going to get an earful," you thought, "I have big news, and he's busy beating up a punching bag!"

Arriving at the dojo, you found it mostly dark, save for a single light glowing from within. Hwoarang's motorcycle was parked out front, confirming your suspicions.

You quietly opened the dojo door and peeked inside. There he was, training with Master Baek, completely engrossed in their sparring. They were so focused they didn't even hear you enter.

You bowed respectfully to Master Baek, who returned the gesture with a nod and a warm smile. Then you turned your attention to Hwoarang, who still hadn't noticed you.

"Hwoarang!", you called out, feigning annoyance. "Why haven't you answered my texts? I've been waiting for you!"

Hwoarang stopped mid-kick and turned, flashing you a sheepish grin. "Honey, I totally lost track of time! I'm so sorry!", he apologized, but you sensed he was holding something back.

"Hwoarang!!! I was so excited, you should be more considerate!", you scolded, trying to keep a straight face in front of Master Baek, who was watching with amusement. This was definitely a familiar scene for him.

Your words finally snapped Hwoarang out of his training trance. He looked at you curiously and then, a little nervously, said he had something to tell you too.

Your expression softened instantly. You looked at him with a mix of affection and confusion, suggesting you should both just say whatever it was at the same time. You were certain your news would be the bigger bombshell.

He hesitated for a moment, then excused himself. He went to the locker room and returned a few seconds later, his hands clasped behind his back.

Finally, you both counted to three and…

"I'm pregnant!", "Will you marry me?", you exclaimed in unison.

A stunned silence filled the dojo. You both froze, staring at each other in disbelief.

In the next three seconds, Hwoarang was down on one knee, a small velvet box open in his hand, revealing a beautiful ring. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of shock and overwhelming joy. You were equally speechless, your mind struggling to process everything.

The next moment, you were both embracing, laughing and crying, the initial shock giving way to pure elation. "Are you serious?", "I can't believe it!", you both kept repeating, tears streaming down your faces.

Your now fiancé swept you into his arms and twirled you around, a romantic and joyful celebration. Hwoarang, still beaming, explained he’d been planning to propose for months, saving up for the perfect ring. He then added that Master Baek had suggested proposing at the dojo, where you first met.

Master Baek, his smile radiating fatherly pride, approached you both. He would have normally chided you for the commotion in his dojo, but this time, he simply couldn't resist beaming with happiness for his two beloved students.

"Master, I'm going to be a father and I'm getting married!", Hwoarang announced, his voice overflowing with happiness. "You're going to be a grandpa!"

Hwoarang, typically impulsive and driven by his passion for fighting, would undergo a remarkable transformation during your pregnancy. The news of impending fatherhood would hit him like a lightning bolt, awakening a previously unseen side of his personality.

Baek Doo San, who was both a mentor and a father figure to Hwoarang, and also the respected master of his soon-to-be wife, felt deeply touched. He knew this was a momentous occasion in their lives, and he felt honored to be a part of it.

During pregnancy:

It would take some time for it to fully sink in. Initially, he might still get into the occasional street brawl, but gradually, the reality of his new responsibility would dawn on him. The man who once lived for the thrill of combat would now be a familiar sight at the local supermarket and pharmacy, carrying bags of groceries and prenatal vitamins with a goofy grin.

The once-enticing allure of dangerous street fights would diminish, replaced by a deep sense of responsibility. "My girl's pregnant and waiting for me, I ain't got time for this," he'd declare with newfound maturity, turning down any invitations to trouble.

Hwoarang would immerse himself in the world of pregnancy, devouring books, articles, and websites on prenatal care. He'd pepper doctors and nurses with questions, and might even join online parenting forums, eager to learn everything he could.

The days of forgotten texts and late-night training sessions would be a distant memory. He'd become your unwavering support system, attending every prenatal appointment, every ultrasound, every crucial moment.

He'd transform into an expert on remedies for morning sickness, a masseur for aching backs, and a connoisseur of comfortable sleeping positions. He'd ensure you were always well-nourished, stocked with fresh fruits and vegetables, and gently encourage you to stay active with prenatal exercises.

On fatherhood:

When the baby arrives, Hwoarang's transformation would be complete. The occasional impatience he sometimes displayed would melt away, replaced by an endless well of patience, especially when it came to his little girl.

He'd become the epitome of the cool, present father, attending every school event, teaching her how to ride a bike, and taking her on fishing trips. He'd be bursting with pride, showing off pictures of his daughter to anyone who'd listen.

Hwoarang would radiate the energy of a doting dad, showering his little princess with affection and spoiling her (within reason, of course). He'd take her shopping, buy her adorable clothes and toys, and maybe even let her give him a makeover. Think Gru from "Despicable Me," but with more style and less villainy.

He wouldn't hesitate to shower his daughter with love, showering her with hugs! He'd be a fun-loving dad, playing games, telling stories, and making silly faces just to see her smile.

the morning starts with chaos—the good kind. akashi wakes up at 6 am because she’s bouncing to give her daddy his present. gin is half asleep carrying wrapping paper and a mini combot toy he spent way too much time picking out.

you organize everything because the kids are useless without direction. lee has no idea any of this is happening because he sleeps like a prince with silk sheets and zero awareness.

as soon as lee walks into the living room, akashi jumps at his legs. “daddy!! happy father’s day!!” he immediately softens, picking her up like she weighs nothing.

akashi gives him the drawing she worked on for two days straight. the drawing includes the whole family! lee is drawn extra sparkly (because she says “daddy is shiny”). lee gets all dramatic, putting a hand over his chest like he’s been shot. “sweetheart, this is… excellent!” he says in that savvy voice.

gin tries to hand over his gift like he isn’t nervous. he bought lee a miniature combot robot because it reminded him of his dad’s past inventions. he acts casual like “it’s nothing big,” but secretly hopes lee will like it.

lee pretends to judge the toy at first, “hm… a toy for a man of my stature?” two seconds later he’s pressing every button and smiling like a kid. he places it on a shelf of ‘important things,’ right between his custom perfume and a framed photo of the kids.

he pulls both kids in for a dramatic family hug. gin groans and insists he’s too old for this. akashi clings to lee’s neck like a koala. lee kisses both their heads like the affectionate, dramatic dad he is.

you get the softest look when lee turns to you. he kisses you gently and murmurs a quiet “thank you.” lee may be extra, but when it comes to his family, his love runs deep.

breakfast is filled with teasing. they’re all sitting down at the table while gin is saying “don’t let the combot malfunction.” lee replied with “don’t be jealous that my toy is more obedient than you.” with a stylish grin.

akashi sits on lee’s lap the whole time, proudly guarding her drawing. lee tells every servant that walks by—“look at this, my daughter is an artistic prodigy. admit it.”

the whole day is peaceful, warm, and full of love. lee spends time with you, plays with akashi, and talks to gin about growing into the person he wants to be.

Hwoarang

・Even though Hwoarang is a little shit sometimes, he knows some good ass recipes to make you feel better.

・ Expect him to be force-feeding you.

・ At the beginning of your and Hwoarang’s relationship, I think he wouldn’t necessarily believe you when you tell him you didn’t feel well. He wouldn’t be mad at you, or belittle you, but more that he thinks you're stronger than that.

・ He would only really believe you when he saw it. The two of you would be training when your body finally tells you you’re too damn sick to be trying to fight Hwoarang. He would finally realize how pale you look, how quickly you’re out of breath. Then it really hits him when you collapse to your knees.

⸻⸻⸻⊱༺  ୨୧  ༻⊰⸻⸻⸻

Hwoarang dropped to his knees in front of you, his eyes scanned your face, and his hand held your arm. “You meant it didn’t you?” His voice was quieter than usual, but your body was too exhausted to reply to him. Sweat made your hair cling to your forehead, your body feeling all too hot and freezing at the same time. You let your head fall against his chest, as limp as the rest of your body. Hwoarang didn’t move, nor did he speak, quite unusual for him. You couldn’t tell how many minutes passed, or if it had even been a minute.

“I’m gonna pick you up— and don’t think you’re gonna tell me no either.” Before you could even protest he shut it down. He stood up as you attempted to do the same, feeling like your stomach was going to come up your throat. His forearms swept you up from underneath you, carrying you quickly out of his dojang, luckily his house was not too far.

The rest of the day was spent through a cycle of Hwoarang scolding you to not get up and that he’ll do it. Hell he wouldn’t even let you go to the bathroom alone. But besides the pampering and not allowing you to even take a step, he made you rice porridge, though your nausea was through the roof you could at least keep it down. Sometimes he wouldn’t even let you pick up your spoon to eat, instead feeding you himself. It was oddly romantic and adorable for him, though you weren’t going to tease him about it.

You recovered quite quickly due to whatever magic his cooking skills held, and the cuddling on his couch that was maybe a bit too small for the two of you.

⸻⸻⸻⊱༺  ୨୧  ༻⊰⸻⸻⸻

After you were back to feeling better and mostly normal, he stayed a little sweeter than before. It’s not like he was an asshole before or anything, he still teased you and flicked your forehead from time to time but he was just sweeter. He's really just a big softy at heart.

Dragunov

・Dragunov is definitely one to notice quickly if you’re getting sick.

・ He doesn’t ask you whether you’re feeling ill, he just very conveniently shows up with what you need when you need it. Like he has a sixth sense or something. You’re working at your desk and you feel like you're about to sneeze— he just sets a box of tissues on your desk.

・ Your throat is sore and you’re about to get up to get water? He's already handing a glass of water to you. It’s seriously amazing honestly

・Unfortunately it doesn’t save you from still getting sick though.

⸻⸻⸻⊱༺  ୨୧  ༻⊰⸻⸻⸻

When you and Sergei took a vacation back to his hometown, it was lovely, a thick layer of snow covered every surface. Of course Sergei was used to this weather and even preferred it, but it was simply magical to you. And with that fascination you only wanted to go explore around the town he grew up in. You don’t hear many stories from Dragunov about his childhood or frankly anything, but maybe that's what made him so easy to love.

The two of you went on an outing into the central part of his town, he brought you to many places ranging from a clothing repair shop to an antique toy shop. As the day went on you shivered, and sneezed here and there but insisted you were okay. By the time a couple hours went by your nose was tinted a pinkish color along with your cheeks. Without a word Sergei stopped walking, you turned around puzzled, until his big heavy coat was draped over your shoulders. Before a squeak of objection came out of your mouth he grabbed your hand and turned towards home. You couldn’t really say much because you couldn’t deny that your entire body felt like an ice cube.

Between the warmth of Dragunov’s warm coat and his hand that held your own, you successfully made it back to his home. Sergei took the coat off your shoulders, as his hand reached down to brush the snow off your hair. You thanked him quietly and followed him as he walked into his living room. You plopped onto the couch, turning around to locate where Sergei went, he was about to turn around the corner.

“Stay.” He almost commanded you, with the softest voice possible. You listened to him, waiting for him to return. Your body continued to shiver even though it was not that cold inside the home. You heard his footsteps behind you, he carried a big wool blanket in his hands. He sat down on the couch, patting the spot next to him. You quickly scurried over to him as he draped the blanket over the two of you. His hand found its way to your hair as he slotted the strands between his fingers. Though you knew you were going to end up even more sick tomorrow, right now, this is all you could ask for.

⸻⸻⸻⊱༺  ୨୧  ༻⊰⸻⸻⸻

He just wants an excuse to play with your hair </3

Claudio

・ I think Claudio can be caring and thoughtful when you’re sick but also that man doesn’t want to get sick either. His work is a big responsibility so I think he would want to avoid sickness if possible.

・ But he can’t say no to you.

⸻⸻⸻⊱༺  ୨୧  ༻⊰⸻⸻⸻

Claudio left for work early this morning before you woke up, which he usually does. You woke up in a haze, your throat felt like sandpaper, accompanied by the pounding headache that assaulted your senses. The house was quiet, no sign of your boyfriend. You reached over to the night stand in search of your phone, but in your attempt it fell onto the floor with a thud. It was that kind of day.

The rest of the day was spent either on the couch or in your bed, with a pile of tissues wherever you went. Usually Claudio gets back home before it’s dark but it was getting late, you stared out the window ignoring the tv in front of you. Your attention was torn from your empty gaze to your phone that buzzed next to you. The caller ID being Claudio. You answered but before you could say anything he spoke, “I have to stay late tonight, love.” You replied, but your voice was hoarse as you cleared your throat. “Okay.” “Are you feeling sick?” Claudio immediately asked, his voice switched tones. “I think, but I can manage-“ ”No, I’m coming home, stay where you are.” Claudio stood his ground steady as he ended the call. You sighed, grateful he’d be home soon.

Your front door opened and quickly closed, Claudio was fast to get to your side. “Why didn’t you call me?” His voice was soft as the back of his hand touched your forehead to gauge your temperature. “I didn’t want to interrupt your work, because I knew you were going to come home” Claudio let out a breathy chuckle, which surprised you, causing you to look at him. “You always worry about the smallest things, amore.” He smiled, and you almost melted.

Claudio made you various remedies that his mother taught him, which you overheard him talking to his mother on the phone asking her questions about the recipes. It was quite entertaining to listen to Claudio talk to his mother, you couldn’t understand much but little pieces here and there. He eventually cuddled up next to you, “are you sure you’re okay with me getting you sick?” You questioned him as your back laid against his chest. “I won’t get sick.” You sighed, he's so stubborn sometimes.

⸻⸻⸻⊱༺  ୨୧  ༻⊰⸻⸻⸻

Claudio did in fact, get sick.