#lookism fic

[kayleeeknee]

When the smut is so good you just stop mid goon to applause <3

[kingchroma]

hellloooo can i request Lookism guys dealing with pregnant reader?🫶🫶🫶🥺 (before their kid was born in your lookism as girl dads hcs)

lookism boys with pregnant reader.

࿇ characters. gun/goo/jake/gitae

࿇ warnings. there’s not a lot of dialogue since i wanted to dive more into their thoughts regarding your pregnancy. basically shows their thoughts re: the news and how they act on it ࿇ author's note. this is set before they became girl dads! thank you for requesting and i apologize for taking so long, i’ve been a bit stuck with this.

part 1 found here.

GUN PARK

If anything, Gun had taken on the responsibility of a father easily compared to what you had initially thought.

Being in Gun Park’s life had meant that you were able to see the rawest, purest form of him—the one where you see the Gun Park who had easily cooked your favorite meal in the cutest way possible. The one where you see how gentle he can be whenever he tends to you despite his heavy hands that were used to beating up people. The one where you see how caring can he be to you and to your unborn daughter.

“Rest,” he says, not even bothering to look up at you as you watch him make another conconction—whatever you and the little one (as he likes to call her) craved for today. It was a little mix of everything, and while Gun had wanted to tell you that this is not healthy, he could not resist you and your cute little face.

So what if he had gone soft for you? You were the only one who could see that softness anyway, and it’s not like he had lost his edge. He still makes a living, completely barricading this part of life away from prying eyes and loud mouths—namely Goo and the rest of HNH—while ensuring that the Four Major Crews aren’t doing shit that could possibly tarnish whatever he had worked so hard for.

All that matters now is you and your daughter.

“But what if I don’t want to?” you argue lightly, though it sounded more of like a tease. Gun had a tendency to be overprotective, making sure that you’re comfortable. If you wanted a massage now, he would almost immediately drop the baking sheet to go and wash his hands before tending to you.

He was quite literally the textbook definition of a househusband.

“Aren’t you a little hardheaded this afternoon?” he asks, looking up to see you glowing. Gun thinks he might have a heart attack with how adorable you look in your maternity dress, how you have that cheeky expression in your face that he loves looking at.

And while he initially was fearful of the pregnancy, it looked good on you. Looked good to the point that he wanted another kid because you being so round with his daughter made his heart ache in the best way possible. “You should go and take a seat on the sofa. It’s like sitting on a cloud,” he says, knowing damn well that he had it imported from whatever country it came from only because he wanted you to be comfortable during this whole pregnancy.

“Yeah, but,” you start, sitting on the bar stool as you watched him pipe animated designs on several pieces of cookies. “It won’t be the same without you,” you say, happiness evident in your tone as you put a hand on your stomach. “And our princess wants to see her dad create a masterpiece on those cookies.”

That was enough to make Gun smile—a rare one to his colleagues, quite normal to you—and while he thought that was cheesy yet adorable, he has his own lines ready to quip.

“How funny,” he says as he finishes piping one of the cookies before handing it to you to taste. “Because our princess needs to know that she,” he points at your tummy. “Is mom and dad’s magnum opus.”

GOO KIM

Goo has done a lot of stupid things, and while they are stupid, they are well-calculated. He doesn’t make a move where he knows he’s on the losing end because Goo will always benefit in the end.

This, however, is not something that he had calculated. He was also unsure if he was going to benefit from this because he hadn’t thought this through. Maybe it was also the panic and anxiety talking because he’s not supposed to talk and think like this whenever you’re involved—making it sound like you’re just some random business deal that he needs to get over with when you’re not.

You’re worth more than whatever pile of money was waiting for him at the end of every goal he has.

Still, he can’t even deny it himself—the news had shaken him up. Though thanks to years of masking his feelings, he’s definitely a lot better at not showing whatever emotion that was about to consume him because you look so happy.

You look so happy at the fact that you’re giving him a child at this age. Goo wonders if you’re as crazy as he is because holy shit, the two of you were only, what? In your 20s?

You should be partying at the club and not getting knocked up by him because: a) he’s got a lot of shit to do in the underworld and he’s involved with incredibly dangerous people, b) he’s an idiot that wanted to go raw, and c) he’s unsure if he can be a great father to this kid.

Goo, at most, plans 5 steps ahead, but with you wanting to keep the baby, he must plan at least 10 steps ahead because God knows whatever life is going to throw at him next. He was still unsure about the pregnancy—the thought of being a father—but he sure as hell would give you everything to ensure that you only have a smooth and less-awful pregnancy.

So, months later, his protectiveness shows.

Really.

“Jungoo, I’m fine!” you argue with your boyfriend as he held your hand, the two of you descending down the stairs of your new home.

He was insane enough to get you a house—away from prying eyes so that you and your beloved baby girl will be safe, not worrying about anyone who could possibly attack the two most important people in his life. “I can go down the stairs just fine!” you exclaim.

And while you almost push him down the goddamn stairs, Goo keeps a tight grip on your hand, the other on the small of your back. “You don’t know that, cupcake,” he says gently, eyes flitting from your face to your pregnant tummy. He feels his heart swell a little because going through the ultrasounds, the parenting books, the look of the nursery—everything made him excited.

A far cry from his initial response to when he found out you were pregnant. “Let me do this for you, okay?” he says gently, trying not to trigger a possible mood swing from you. “Ugh, fine,” you retort, letting him dote over you. “Only because you look funny begging,” you say, in which you receive a face from him.

You think about how Goo had always been so mobile, always in one place and then another because he has business deals all over Seoul. But with you, he’s been so patient, the most he’s ever been considering he always liked to get things done in the quickest, Goo-est way possible.

“Thanks, Goo,” you murmur as he safely helps you down the stairs, your hand immediately resting on your stomach. “Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead before placing his hand on top of yours. “And for our sweet little angel too.”

JAKE KIM

Jake hadn’t really thought about being a father at such a young age.

Considering his lifestyle and as the leader of Big Deal, Jake had wanted to make sure that before anything like a pregnancy happens, or at least progresses, he had removed himself from the gang life.

Sure, he treats Big Deal like family because that’s what they are to him, but at the end of the day, there’s always a sick reminder in his head to never ever forget that it was still a gang—and the two of you having an unplanned pregnancy while he’s still the leader of the said gang makes him want to spiral into the abyss.

But even if he was in a state of shock and in worry, he doesn’t show that to you—not when you looked so horrified right in front of him, hands trembling, your tears instantly filling your lash line as you broke the news to him. You confirmed that you were indeed carrying his kid after a trip to the clinic.

“Hey,” he says as he holds your hand in his, engulfing them. “We’ll be okay,” he assures you in a quiet whisper, hunched down a little as makes a promise.

That’s what he tells you—often does, anyway. Jake was the type of person to reassure everyone around him that things were going to be okay, even if he himself was unsure of what the future holds. But he knows he’ll do something about it, make a plan—he had always been the type to step up no matter what challenge was thrown towards him.

A few weeks in your pregnancy, you began experiencing its symptoms. Jake could hear you retching your guts out in the bathroom, his immediate instinct was to get out of bed and quickly follow to help you. The swinging of the door was heard as you were keeled over, feeling his large hands help you with your hair before letting the other rest on your back.

His expression softens as he rubs your back. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers, and you only hum a response in return because you didn’t feel like talking—the weight and realization of becoming a mother slowly sinking in with the symptoms.

Shit, he feels bad. Jake knows you well enough to know that you’re in deep thought, and he thinks that you wouldn’t have to carry majority of the burden if the two of you had been careful enough. But you wanted to keep the baby, and it’s your body therefore it’s also your choice. In the end, all Jake can do was be there for you and be the best support system for you.

“I’m here.”

GITAE KIM

Fatherhood is a foreign concept to Gitae.

If anything, he thinks—knows, that he’s not meant to be a father. He doesn’t have the gentleness and patience of a parent. Sure, maybe he can be stern, but never in his life did he think that he would be a father. Can you blame him if he didn’t know how to be one, given how he was born out of wedlock? How his own father barely acknowledged him, his first born, and so he turned into whatever this is.

All Gitae knows is that he was a man made to remove people—a man who resented his own parents; resenting them for giving him life when he didn’t ask for it.

He knows that being a parent isn’t for him. So when you told him you were pregnant, a multitude of thoughts had come to his head.

It was as clear as day whenever Gitae recalls the moment you broke the news to him.

How your voice trembled when you spoke to him, pupils looking like they were about to spill salty tears. How you were visibly shaken, making yourself look smaller in his presence, utterly distraught at the fact that you were pregnant when the two of you have been so careful. How you had endless apologies slipping from your lips, not bothering to look at him out of fear that he might get rid of you and your unborn child.

Gitae doesn’t know if the odd pain in his chest was normal whenever he remembers that devastated version of you that day. Even if the two of you had such an unconventional start in your relationship, at the end of the day, he still chose to risk it all with you despite not knowing the first steps in loving someone—in caring for someone other than himself.

At the end of the day, he still wants you in his life no matter how dangerous it was—because he had a silent promise not just to you, but to himself.

That he will protect you because he wants you standing by his side.

“You’re pregnant,” is what Gitae says as he looks down on you, the sentence he utters sounds more like a statement than a question. It was as if he doesn’t completely register the revelation you just told him—the look in his eyes could be described as two things: distant and hollow.

But this is you, not some random woman—not a concubine. So he tries to take it easy on you.

“Do you want to keep it?” Is the first thing he asks, and when you take a while to respond, he leans forward to hug you—a moment of reassurance and affection, quite rare. An unspoken I’ll be here for you. And once you said yes, Gitae steels himself for nine long months of pregnancy—and a lifetime of fatherhood.

Though, he thinks he’s faring better than expected.

Months later, he finds himself massaging your feet as you tell him about how your daughter was giving you a hard time today, constantly kicking, making you want to lay down constantly. And apart from that, pregnancy in itself made it quite heavy for you on your day-to-day, so you asked Gitae to give you a foot massage.

To which he surprisingly obliged.

He only hums as he listens to you, a grunt and even a small chuckle escaping from time to time. “Mi flor,” he speaks, looking at your stomach. “Don’t give your mama such a hard time. She’s already dealing with papa as it is,” he jokes lightly, but he doesn’t notice the slight look of concern that you give him.

He makes it sound so horrible dealing with him. Maybe to his enemies, yes, but Gitae had been nothing but different with you in the best way possible. “I’m sure our little flower just misses you,” you assure him lightly. “After all, papa had been gone majority of the day. She hasn’t heard your voice as much,” you tell him, and he glances at you with a softened expression.

“Is that so, mi flor?” he says, halting in his movements of tending to your feet as he sits next to you. “Well, papa’s here now,” he murmurs, rubbing your stomach gently, feeling his daughter kick, and that instantly brings a small smile on his lips.

“Should I tell you what mama and I plan on giving you when you’re born?” he asks his daughter.

“Would the world be enough, mi flor?”

[ay4tou]

Hello can i ask for lookism men reacts to reader forget to say i love you back (prank)?? that would be hilarious XD thank youu if you dont mind^^

lookism men reacting when you forget to say 'i love you' back

summary: you decided to do a little prank, turns out forgetting three little words is the fastest way to send several grown men into an emotional crisis.

author's note: took a bit too long on the request i got too carried away enjoying my break 💔 a lot of newer characters aren't here bc i genuinely don't know how to write them yet | masterlist

Daniel Park:

“I love you, don't forget to call me when you get home!"

You: “Okay. Bye.”

Pauses. Processes. Doesn’t say anything.

Says nothing for 10 minutes, then hits you with:

“Is this a test?”

You: “What?”

“A test of loyalty. Honesty. Trust. Emotional—”

He looked like a puppy, whining, drenched in the rain, getting told to stay outside the house because he destroyed the sofa. You feel so bad for him so you stay with him for 30 more minutes outside your house to calm down.

Gun Park:

“Love you.”

You: “Alright."

You blink, and he’s suddenly standing five inches closer.

“Say it.”

You: “Say what?”

“You know.”

Stares at you so hard your soul leaves your body, you say “I love you” with your full chest just to survive.

Goo Kim:

“Love you~”

You: “Mhm!”

“MHM???”

Starts spiraling instantly. Drops to the ground like a dying Victorian man.

“You said ‘mhm’ like I handed you a napkin, not my heart.”

Demands reparations in the form of 20 kisses.

Johan Seong:

"I love you."

You text: "Thanks, you too."

"You too..?"

Goes dead. Goes silent. Doesn't reply or even see your texts for a whole day.

You return home and see him glaring at you.

“I knew it. I was right all along. Trust is an illusion. Love is a scam.”

You comfort him and assure that it was just a prank, and after a while of convincing you still love him (of course you do), he breathes a sigh of relief.

You practically see Eden and Miro facepalming.

Zack Lee:

“Love you! See you later!”

You: “See ya!”

He stops. Blinks. Turns.

“…Wait.”

Follows you like a shadow. You lock the door? He stands outside. You go to work? He shows up during your lunch break.

“You forgot. I can wait. I’m patient. You’ll break before I do.”

Vasco:

“I love you!!” 🥺

You: “Hehe okay bye!”

He doesn’t move.

He just... stands there. For a while.

Then he goes to Jace:

“…Do you think they still love me even if they didn’t say it?”

Jace: panicking internally “THEY ABSOLUTELY DO.”

Jake Kim:

“Love you.”

You: “'Kay. Later!"

He nods. Then he realizes.

“Damn. That’s crazy.”

Lua overhears and with a stroke of luck (for Lua, not Jake) gossips to the girls at Big Deal street.

Word gets along fast in the street and Jake gets clowned in the groupchat within minutes.

Samuel Seo:

You: “Bye! I'll let you know when I get there.”

Samuel: “Sure. Love you.”

You wave and get on the elevator without saying it back.

He blinks.

...?

???

???????????????????

Loses his composure for a second but realizes he's in public and regains his nonchalance fairly quickly.

"Tch. Typical.”

Pretends he doesn’t care. Totally does.

Spends the rest of the day overthinking while fixing his hair in every mirror he passes.

DG/James Lee:

He texts it casually: “Love you.”

You: “Alright, later.”

Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t comment.

Just quietly nods and moves on.

But his next text to you is noticeably more formal.

“...Let me know when you get home.”

No emojis. No pet names.

That’s his code for: “I noticed. I’m not mad. But I noticed.”

Ryuhei Kuroda:

“Love you!"

You: “Okay, bye!”

Malfunctions instantly.

“No no no NO. Run that back. Say it again. With feeling. Full sentence. I’m not letting this slide.”

Dramatically reenacts the moment for the rest of the day like it’s a trauma flashback.

You kick him out of the house and begs you to take him back.

Jace Park:

"Bye. Love you."

You: "Mhm."

His first instinct? Apologize to you.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by saying it first I didn’t mean to rush anything unless you do love me then that’s cool but if not that’s okay too unless it’s not then—”

Send help. He’s spiraling respectfully.

Hudson Ahn:

"Love you."

"Okay, bye."

You stare at each other for 5 more seconds, like you both had something to say.

In the end, he just nods calmly.

Looks away.

You turn around and catch him brooding at the sky like he’s in a coming-of-age film.

“The stars don’t talk back either. I get it now.”

[narcissistshandler]

Shoot, you're open requests!! I have been reading the lookism fic on your blog and I really really want to request a fic on your blog!!

So excited..., May i req sub johan seong with dom reader doing dog and master roleplay, like the reader put red collar and leash to johan.. 👉👈 and eugh maybe reader pointing out the bulge on johan stomach.

Okay, that's all. Thank you for consider writing this, heres a flowers for you 🐯🫸💐!!

　⸸ .ᐟ M Y   F A V O R I T E   P E T

[ PAIRING ] male reader x johan seong/yohan seong (lookism) [ CONTENT ] johan only needs his collar and your dick inside him to stop thinking, give him his ears and tail, please [ TAGS ] amab!reader, top!dom!reader, bottom!sub!johan, pet play, owner x pet, collaring, butt plug, puppy!johan, anal sex, breath play, dirty talk, pet names, belly bulge, Johan has anxiety (because I said so), Johan's vision problem mentioned

[ A / N ] I love pathetic little pet Johan. thank you for the flowers ray. (also, slightly changing the aesthetic of the posts, bc I can)

"I knew this color would suit you. Red brings out your eyes," you compliment, fingers leaving behind a streak of heat on his skin, above where the leather band tightens around his throat.

Johan feels the tightness with every breath. He tries to reach for the collar, something in his head telling him he's going to choke, but you pull his hand away before he can make contact. "No, puppy. You are not allowed to touch your collar."

The cold of the floor against his knees creeps up his naked body. Goosebumps cover his skin.

Johan looks at you, where you tower over him, powerful, unreachable. Slightly blurred too, in the vision of his left eye. By this point Johan had learned to stop rubbing his eye, knowing it would do no good and he hated the look on your face whenever you saw him do it again.

It was one of those days.

"But I..." He begins, hands clasping his knees. There are bruises turning color on his skin from the last fight. His vision seems worse today. He's going to suffocate.

You silence him instantly, Johan feels the embarrassment tighten around his throat along with the weight of the collar at your choice of words. "Dogs don't talk. We've already talked about that, haven't we?"

Of course, Johan knew dogs couldn't talk; that was one of the reasons he'd agreed to this act. He didn't want to have to talk or think. But the restlessness in his stomach still made him want to stutter nonsensically, to say something, anything. There was a part of him that wanted to fight, to surrender, to whine to you — he was a mess of feelings.

A lost puppy.

"You understood?"

Johan nods.

"Puppy?" You pull on the leash.

He then understands the order and obeys: "Woof."

"Good. Good boy."

It's humbling, how easily he bows to you with a simple gesture. A snap of your fingers, a point down. On hands and knees. Like a well-trained dog, he's obeying, pushing his butt up in the air, and looking back at you expectantly. Did I do it right? Can you tell me?

"Just like that, such a smart pet," you say and Johan's chest swells with pride.

Your hands fall to his buttocks, caressing, soothing the goosebumps. He feels himself tighten at the attention, tensing around the little plug that fills him, barely enough to do anything but keep him smooth and taut. "I'm going to take this out of you now," you warn before starting to pull the plug out. Johan is suddenly empty, and a needy sound escapes his throat before he can stop it. A whimper.

"Shh shh," you hush, your warm thumb finding the relaxed, smooth edge. "You were a good pup, weren't you? Obedient little thing, carrying your plug around all day without trying to take it off, just waiting for your owner to come home. Look at that cute hole, all red and stretched, barely closing."

Johan's ears burned, but he could only rock back against your hand. After feeling the silicone filling his ass all day, the emptiness now felt wrong. He had been good to you all day, knowing that when he got home he could just be your little dog.

"What do you want, pet? Can you tell me?"

Johan fights the instinct to fall into a messy begging, remembering that good dogs don't talk. Instead, he barks, trying to convey his need as he rocks his hips from side to side, like a bitch in heat trying to entice you to fuck him. "Woof arf woof woof."

Please owner, I need your cock.

It's pathetic.

But with his face against the cold floor, fluffy ears falling from his brown hair, and your commanding presence kneeling behind him, all Johan could feel was the growing need, his hole opening and closing, so, so close to begging.

"My sweet pup," you murmur, hands closing around his slim waist, thick cock brushing against his entrance. Johan bites his lower lip, pushing it back. Disobedient. But you don't punish him, just laugh, enjoying his latent desperation.

An owner as complacent as cruel you were.

"My perfect bitch." You're sinking into him then, inch after inch filling his empty insides. Johan feels the penetration into every vertebra of his spine. His thighs tremble. Even without needing to look, he feels you making space inside him, rearranging his insides to the point where he can barely breathe. Impossible deep inside. The mere thought makes him gasp.

You dragged a reverent hand over Johan's trembling abdomen, tracing the outline of you beneath the skin. The unmistakeable bulge where your cock stretched him obscenely wide. "Look at my good pup, so full you’re showing it." Then you pull back, before going back inside, casually pounding him, gradually increasing the pace, knowing exactly how to fuck him raw. Hand still there, feeling where your cock pushes inside him.

You're everywhere — inside him, against his back, legs against his thighs, hands all over his body, pulling on the leash, squeezing the visible bulge in his stomach every time you move.

He was never as full as when you filled him.

Johan doesn't realize he's drifted away from reality until your voice teases in his ear, one of your hands patting the side of his hip. As if calming down an animal. "You're drooling all over the floor, does it feel so good to finally be put in your place? My pretty puppy's belly so stretched for his owner it's made him soft and mindless, hasn’t it?"

He nods, or tries to.

His body no longer obeys, surrendered to the oppression of being completely filled, the firm weight of the leather around his neck, your hands on him.

Then you rock your hips. Your balls slap against his ass and your cock pushes in deep. There's not enough lube to soften the invasion and he feels the burn, the hot friction of your cock sinking through the tightness. In, out. In, out. In, in, in.

Johan is not only drooling on the floor, but also leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. His body is on fire. Hips shaking violently as he tries to keep the heat in his stomach under control.

Then he hears you spit before your cock comes back in, just a little wetter and slicker and he groans like a filthy mutt, loudly, eyes rolling back in his skull.

He knows, and so do you, that he could come that easily, just from your words and the collar around his neck, pulling until it cuts off his oxygen. Your member threatening to reach his lungs. It's scary, letting someone have that much power over him. But Johan doesn't fight or try to touch himself; you'll take care of him, always have. All he wanted was to be good for you, orgasm was a bonus, not the goal.

"You’re panting like you’re in heat. So stuffed, you can’t even whimper right," you murmur, the chain vibrating as you wrap it further around your fingers and pull. "Gotta take good care of my bitch, right? Breed well so she doesn't go looking for another dick. I'll be sure to fill you up good today."

Johan has forgotten how to speak, but he's still your good puppy, and as such, he barks at you, grunts; hoarse, confused, foolish. Yes. Yes. Please. A needy, disgusting little pet, and still your only and one favorite.

[winterwump]

Lookism Boys & How They Flirt When They Actually Like You

Summary: Disaster boy behavior but make it endearing lolol

Author’s Note: this might be a lil corny, it’s not NSFW so idk. I hope y’all like it

Word Count: 862

ENJOY!!!!

Vasco

Flirting Style: Earnest puppy with zero game

Tells you you’re strong even if you just opened a pickle jar

Brings you random trinkets like a rock that “reminded him of your vibes”

Accidentally says “I love you” way too soon and then panics so hard he does damn near melts about it

Thinks doing 200 squats in front of you and flexing his muscles is flirting (it’s working lol)

He blushes so hard when you compliment his tattoos. Expect full stammering, possibly passing out. His tattoos mean a lot to him so for you to like them is amazing.

Bonus: Jace is always 3 feet behind, aggressively mouthing “say something cool!!”

Big Daniel Park

Flirting Style: Shy golden retriever who doesn’t know he’s hot

Can lift a car but gets nervous when your hands brush

Tries to be smooth and immediately fumbles (“You look… great. I mean… good. I mean… you’re wearing clothes.”)

Bakes you something or brings coffee with a little sticky note (“I didn’t know what you liked so I got everything”)

Will die if you call him handsome. Like actually shut down for 2 minutes.

Constantly checks if you’re okay. Doesn’t realize he’s basically boyfriending already.

Bonus: You could kiss his cheek and he’d be so flustered he apologizes for existing.

Zack Lee

Flirting Style: Aggressive gym bro with a gooey center

Challenges you to a fake sparring match so he can definitely lose on purpose (and touch you 😜)

“What? I didn’t mean to fall on you. Maybe you should’ve dodged.” 😏

Will get jealous easily but tries not to show it. He fails miserably like every time.

Literally punches walls after flirting attempts go wrong (He asks Mira for help with you. But she lets him squirm and makes him wing it lol)

Will compliment you mid-argument: “You’re so fucking annoying… and hot. Shit.”

Bonus: If you sneak a kiss during a fight, he’ll melt and forget what you were arguing about.

Johan Seong

Flirting Style: Brooding feral dog boy trying to love for the first time

Glares at anyone who gets too close to you (yes, even strangers. It can be embarrassing)

Has no idea how to flirt so he just… does things for you. Fixes your bike. Carries your books. Murders your enemies.

Once brought you an injured bird and said it “reminded him of you.” You’re still trying to unpack that symbolism.

Will not say “I like you,” but will take a punch for you and then ask if you ate today. Like????

Blushes if you catch him staring. Denies it even when red as a tomato.

Bonus: If you patch him up after a fight, he will fall in love. Again. Harder.

Vin Jin

Flirting Style: Chaotic loudmouth with hidden softboi vibes and a negging problem lol

Roasts you 24/7 but would actually die if someone else did

“You’re kinda ugly when you laugh… I mean it’s cute–wait–no, shut up”

Sends you memes instead of saying “I miss you”

Offers to DJ a playlist just for you but insists it’s “not a big deal or anything”

He’s LOUD but if you whisper something sweet in his ear? He’ll short-circuit.

Bonus: Take his glasses off and tell him he looks good. He’ll probably combust and start teasing you about something dumb to hide his flustered face.

Jake Kim

Flirting Style: Low-key mob boyfriend energy, acts chill but is dying inside from the cuteness aggression you give him.

“You good?” translates to “I’ve been thinking about you all day and I’m obsessed”

Leans on things when you talk: doors, walls, your shoulder if he’s brave

Subtly matches your outfits and pretends it’s coincidence

Buys you something practical (“Thought you might need this.”) but won’t admit it took him 3 hours to pick out

Gets quiet and smiley when you laugh. He notices everything about your face when you laugh.

Bonus: When you gently trace your fingers along his scars (face or body, you pick), he’s flustered and already imagining joint bank accounts.

Warren Chae

Flirting Style: Golden retriever x protective big bro hybrid

Calls you “bro” for way too long even though everyone knows he’s into you

Starts working out harder after you compliment his muscles ONCE

Brags about you to the other Hostel members like: “Y/N said I was cool. They meant it, man!”

Offers to teach you how to fight, but is terrified of accidentally hurting you

Gets flustered by physical touch. Like you bump shoulders and he suddenly forgets how to breathe.

Bonus: If you ask to wear his hoodie, he’ll go speechless and just nod like an NPC loading new emotions lolol

I hope you guys had a good time with this one. Here’s Part 2. BYE!!!

[nightangle9]

Dear Husband.

𑣲⋆FMT: 2.3k words, NewlyWed!Shintaro x NewlyWed!Reader, Marriage Night

𑣲⋆TW: dubcon, unprotected sex, creampie, size difference, slight degradation

𑣲⋆FEM reader

The first time you saw Shintaro was when he came to your estate with the marriage proposal.

A girl from a low-level yakuza clan that could never even dream of getting anywhere near the power that was Yamazaki, but spent all its life serving them, yet the Vice president, the second- in- command of that same clan had sat in front of your eager parents in that pristine white kimono that had your eyes travel to catch every little detail. The crest of the Yamazaki on the chest, the expensive, flowy fabric that couldn't hide the sturdy body underneath.

Your breath had caught as your parents had bowed so deep their forehead touched the ground, thanking him profusely for this once in a lifetine opportunity of elevating their status among the yakuza and wealth, officially selling you off to him.

When you both had stood up, you couldn't have helped but notice just how tall he really was.

A little bird, you were that's what he had thought.

Pretty, small and with wings that were clipped off the day you had the misfortune of being married to him.

And now was the day of your wedding. You were standing beside him in that pure white, heavily layered silk kimono that symbolised purity and new beginnings, your start with the Yamazaki name after yours. He stood beside you in that formal black crested kimono whilst the priest had waved the sacred wand over your heads; its purpose was to ward off evil spirits but which evil spirit would dare to show itself in front of your husband?

Taking the mandatory 3 sips of sake along with reading the oaths to the Gods and Spirits had your wedding ceremony concluded. Every person you registered there held much power that you, even now as his wife, a woman still couldn't fanthom to hold.

As the wedding reception started, you sat beside your husband on the low, long table on the tatami floor of the great hall of the estate, the first-in-command, the Oyabun, sitting at the head of the table as everyone ate the fancy, expensive feast that was laid in front of one's eyes, whispers and firm voices that briefed over discussions that didn't relate to you.

Somehow even at your wedding, you felt a sense of insignificance. One that relieved you, as a person who demanded attention at this place was a person as good as dead.

The reception ended fairly slow as everyone took their time at this formal event that probably, hopefully, won't occur again.

Shingen stood up first; then Shintaro, as you nervously mimicked his action. As everyone made their way out after Shingen had left, it was only you and Shintaro left in the great hall.

"I'll show you our room." He muttered quietly, beginning to walk out into the hallway as you took a step beside him. Strange for such a behemoth of a man, he walked quite slowly, you thought.

The hallway stretched with a courtyard in the middle as the moonless night led to only the dim lighting of the gasoline lamps on the walls glowing the surroundings, showing the soft view of the courtyard that contrasted with the rest of the estate in its delicacy. The finely cut plants and bushes, the small pond with stones around it, the lonely bench in the middle made you want to sit there when evening would close its curtains on the sun, and the sky would pinken with the afterglow of its residue, but you couldn't, of course.

It was your wedding night after all.

Shintaro slid the door smoothly as you stepped your foot in, feeling the texture change from wood to tatami beneath your feet. The room was traditional, just like the rest of the estate. The Yamazaki crest was carved into the wall, with a low mattress below it. It looked soft, cushiony, luxurious something like this man would sleep on but you didn't even know if this was even his bedroom before you came. A small black wooden table sat in front of the mattress, with a cabinet and decorative flowers at the corners of the room.

Shintaro closed the door behind you, as your hand twitched into a fist. This was the part no one prepares for. The intimacy, sharing the bed with a man you barely knew and more so feared than fantasised about.

As he took a step forward, one-two, before he stood right behind you. "Look at me, Y/N." His voice was near you but still above as you slowly turned to look at him with pressed lips that parted slightly as you met his gaze, looking up.

His dark eyes looked at you with an assessment that dimmed his eyelids. A rough, calloused hand came to caress your cheek with a finger, a feather touch so light it could be mistaken. "So beautiful, aren't you? A pretty little thing I've got myself as my wife." He murmured.

You feel the hardened texture of his skin as his palm cupped your cheek, thumb pressing down at your bottom lip. "Open your mouth for me." He whispered, a command disguised as a request. With hesitation and shyness that now was creeping in your skin, you parted your lips slightly.

A deep inhale of his that he took, tightening his jaw as he leaned forward to capture your lips. Your first kiss it was, and now he was about to take your first everything. His hand on your cheek now wrapped around the back of your neck as your breath hitched, as the other worked its way to take off the outer robe. The pristine white fell to the ground.

Your hands twitched in itself, brows furrowed as you struggled to comprehend the dizziness of the warm kiss that left you struggling for air while wanting to drown and whether you were even allowed to touch him. You were his, but he was never yours to begin with.

Shintaro pressed a kiss to your neck, firm like the hold of your neck that came off once he pressed his forehead to yours. Eyes looking at you with a pressure that made heat bubble up in your lower abdomen. His hands were strong and direct as he maintained eye-contact whilst untying the sash at your waist; the thick fabric bundled up struggled against his hands, crumpling and giving up as it fell to your feet.

The main kimono underneath was pliant to his gaze as he slowly looked down upon it before his gaze returned to yours. It was addicting, maddening, the way he had this power over you at this moment and probably forever, as you could only flush pink and tremble with nerves at his actions and eyes.

He lowered himself to wrap his arms around your thighs, lifting you swiftly, your hands coming up to lightly hold his shoulders as his gaze remained steady on your face hued by shyness. The softness of his lips met yours in a firm, breathtaking kiss as he stepped to lay you on the mattress, his larger body looming over yours.

Your face was heated up from the sensuality, the tension that radiated off him that could fill a room enough to choke, breaths coming in and out in a shaky quietness.

Callous hands slowly slipping under the thin fabric of the hadajuban (thin white underrobe), as the soft pink colour of your undergarments were outlined, clearly visible to him. His thumb loomed clearly over your fabric-covered cunt, the barrier of your underwear clearly separating the electrifying sensation you wanted bare on yourself; he started rubbing small, firm circles on it, leading to your breath hitching and thighs tightening over his hand. The flush on your cheeks turned crimson as his pace turned sharper and prominent, the hand working to turn you into a squirming mess infront of your newlywed husband.

As the wetness seeped from your panties to his thumb, his hand withdrew itself from underneath your hadajuban as you gulped to stifle a whine from the lack of sensation.

"Suck." He commanded

Trailing it, glistening with arousal, he brought it to your lips. Hesitantly, with embarrassment, you opened them as he put his thumb on your tongue, your mouth instinctively wrapping around sucking softly, making his eyes darken with the betrayal of lust that was affecting him. As he places himself between your legs, spreading them enough for accommodation.

His fingers sneaking underneath the white robe to tuck down your panties, leaving them off your ankles, throwing them somewhere unknown that you didn’t look because the black of his eyes held you so firmly in place, you could feel the shiver in your body before anything even started.

He grabbed under your knees to suddenly pull you closer as you gasped in surprise when his crotch pressed against your bare heat. So big... even from the ridges of his yukata, you could feel him pressing against you, firm and hard. “You know what I desire from you, right? You’ll provide it for me as per your duty.” Tugging down his hakama pants just enough to free his aching length, hiking up your white robe to your waist, pretty pussy glistening with arousal as he pressed his cock to your entrance.

“Be my good little wife, Y/N. Do what I command, obey me at your very step, and I’ll give you what you’re meant to have. My heir.” He murmured lowly, sinking into your soft walls slowly, every inch stretching you in pain as you clutched the pillow under your head, the throbbing dizzying up your head as your eyes fluttered in pain with unshed tears as he breached in completely, a shaky whimper leaving your lips in small heavings.

“S-shintaro-sama, please”, you whispered shakily, not knowing yourself whether your words were of pain or request. Shintaro’s hands came to rest heavily on your hips, slowly starting to grind into you as he breathed through gritted teeth at your pussy clenching like a vice around him. His thumb came up to rub circles on your clit like the same tantalising pressure from earlier.

“Relax. You can take it.” He muttered with a rough edge in his voice when he began to pull his hips in and out of you in small thrusts that precisely teased you with the hint of pleasure that was beginning to creep heat into your lower abdomen.

Small mewls and whines from your lips filled the quiet sense of the room, the dim lighting of the lamp flickering as the Vice-President’s thrusts got firmer and firmer by each passing second, hazing the only sense you had that was Pain, which dulled as your limbs tingled with sensation.

He put one leg of yours up his shoulder, your ankle resting on the clothed setting, making you flutter your eyelids in a whimpery cry as he leaned closer to murmur in front of your face with a hint of facetiousness. “You are such a crybaby, and here I was thinking my woman was a strong girl.” He pressed with an increase in his pace, hitting so deep it made your head fall back on the pristine pillow and your toes curl near his ear.

The whimpers and whines turned into a hue of moans as he rutted into you with an energy matching to his promise of giving you a child. Your voice laced with the begging of his name, ‘Shintaro-sama! S-shintaro-sama-!’ falling from your lips in stutters and breathiness whenever he hit a particular sweet spot in you.

“Quiet.” He muttered hoarsely, his rough hand wrapping around your neck as his thrusts turned harsh when he felt you clench around him at his action. A breathy, coarse chuckle escaped his lips as he muttered, “Look at you... getting aroused at such a crude gesture. What a dirty girl you were under all that obedience, hm? Don’t worry, I care to dissect every one of them. You’re mine after all.”

Pressing his lips to yours decisively, he whispered with an uneven breath as your eyes closed and your brows furrowed at the edge you were about to fall off, your walls tightening around his cock unwilling to let him go as he worked through it with his strength, giving you the rough clash of his hips that left you seeing stars behind your lids. “I take care of what’s mine. Y/N.”

You came with a stifled whine that left you with tears in your eyes and heat on your skin, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth. Your pathetic attempt at riding out your orgasm as your hips helplessly twitched against his, which Shintaro paid no mind to as his brows furrowed in focus at now filling you with his seed.

Hauling your other leg over his shoulder as he leaned forward on his knees, chasing his own high. His thrusts turning stuttering and rutting as his black hair fell over from the repeated hard movements of his body, jaw clenched hard as he fucked you over and over through overstimulation, your whines tuned with the skin-slapping sounds in the room, tears falling over the already damp pillow sides. His hips moved in once, twice before he paused their movements to cum into you deeeep with an uneven groan of his voice.

His chest heaved softly as he looked at your dishevelled state, running his hand through his hair. “I would really have to work on you. Need to enlist the practise into your core.” He muttered hoarsely with a sly smirk that crept in for a second as he looked down at the mess between your legs, slowly pulling himself out and tugging the towel resting on the side to wipe off the residue before looking at your dripping pussy with a hint of pride and possessiveness for a moment before cleaning you off.

“Was I satisfactory to you, Shintaro-sama?” You muttered breathily, still dizzy from earlier, as you sat up on your elbows whilst he dressed himself in sleepwear in front of the wooden cabinet.

He scoffed, pulling the yukata, his bare tattooed abdomen in view. “Just how clueless can a person be? I chose you out of every possible option ever. You have always been more than satisfactory.”

[wannaeatramyeon]

Being Goo Kim's Secret Friend: Gitae Kim

2.2k. G/N. Gitae Kim x reader. Reader is morally grey. Gets spicy (Prequel-ish: An Introduction) Other Masterlists

“So, let me get this straight."

"Mm." Goo hums, meaning go ahead.

"You're paying me to babysit?"

"Man-sit," he interjects.

"Whatever." You flap your hand, "but I am looking after this person, correct?"

"Yes my little sweetpea." Goo rests his head on your shoulder, so close you could count his eyelashes and see the way his pupils dilate. "It's my secret friend's first time back in Seoul after being away. It'll be good for you to show him around."

"...I'm charging my usual rate."

"Sure-"

"And you're covering our expenses."

He rolls his eyes, "Ugh, fine."

.

.

Gitae Kim, from what you have managed to find out, is patricidal and a powerful man with unsavoury dealings.

"Play nice," was Goo's parting advice when you came to him with your concerns.

"Play nice?!" You say, voice shrill. Goo grins.

"Fuck you, my rate just tripled."

The grin drops and is replaced by a scowl.

.

.

"I thought we could try this place. It serves the best yukhoe." You gaze over to Gitae sitting in the passenger seat as you navigate the roads, checking if there's any response. 

Nothing.

"Raw beef tartare." You explain, "I've heard you can be bloodthirsty."

His eyes flicker to you and you give him your most charming smile.

.

.

Head resting in your palm and elbow on the table, you observe him.

You find his table manners leaves a lot to be desired and watching him has put you off your own meal.

He eats like a beast but if the ferocity that he attacks his food is anything to go by, you're right on the money with guessing his taste.

"Let's get you another drink," you murmur, signalling for the staff. "Goo will kill me if you choke to death and I'm not practised with the heimlich."

.

.

"That was good, right?" You ask, striding alongside and trying to match Gitae step for step as he ignores you.

"I think you enjoyed it. Or you look like you did. I'm not really a fan of raw anything to be honest but gotta be a good host." You direct a smile his way and he hasn't even glanced over at you. You shrug it off and continue to ramble. "I'm still pretty hungry. There's a really good bubble tea place round here and they have a limited edition drink I want to get-"

"No," Gitae cuts in rudely.

"It won't take five minutes."

"No." He repeats, indicating there's no room for argument.

"Aww, cmon," you pout and he once again continues to ignore you. You consider going anyway, with or without Gitae. 

Goo, face scrunched up in anger and shrieking obscenities, pops into your mind's eye when you imagine telling him that you might have lost his secret friend because you wanted a bubble tea.

"Fine," you grumble and throw Gitae a dirty look.

.

.

Gapryong's eldest is a man of few words and it only adds to his intimidating and menacing aura.

You've seen his list of achievements and he is not someone you want as an enemy. But when someone is this difficult, your default is to try and see what response you can get out of them.

"You know they have vapes now," you signal at the pipe hanging from his belt as you continue to walk next to him.

"Do you smoke?" you ask, and expectedly, he doesn't respond,

"No? I guess it's cool you're committing to it for aesthetic reasons." Then dammit, you wonder what has gotten into you. Maybe it's hanging out with Goo too much because you can't help but add, "Even if it makes you a bit... y'know."

He slows, looking over at you at the same time that you pull a face. Indicating clearly you meant 'cringe' even if you didn't say it aloud.

"You do you though," you say, giving him a thumbs up.

He looks at you for a beat longer, head tilted and eyes narrowed, before continuing on his way with you scurrying to catch up.

.

.

By the end of the first week, Gitae has responded to exactly three things that you've said.

The second week, he's still mostly silent but he actually looks at you sometimes when you talk.

The third week, he calls you by your name when he demands your attention and you're surprised that he even knows who you are.

And the fourth - you manage to make him laugh.

Ok, maybe laugh is a bit generous, but he exhales harder than usual and you're sure he's at least amused.

.

.

GItae thinks you're strange.

You run your mouth like you don't know who you're talking to, though you anticipate his needs and preferences like you've been studying him for most of your life.

You're this side of irritating, but not irritating enough that he wants to kill you. 

And, the few times he tunes in to your comments, he admits that he finds you quite entertaining.

No-one has spoken to him like you do in a long time. There's a refreshing honesty to your words, and he's also confident that you're not going to stab him in the back at any second to wrest control of his cartel territory, which is also a welcome change from his usual company

It means that he can relax around you, or relax as much as someone like him can..

All in all, progress. Gitae finds himself trusting you like you're his second-in-command.

.

.

"What do you do for fun?" You ask. Gitae doesn't respond.

Right, you think, back to ignoring me.

You roll your eyes and start to ramble about this and that. You tell him that you're chronically online, giving a wry smile, and say it's a general side effect of your job but at least it's interesting to know the ins and outs of a few things.

Really though, maybe you should consider taking up some exercise to get fit or even as a form of self defence with your line of work and the people you come into contact with (you give Gitae a side eye at this) but it's kinda hard to find the time and-

"I can teach you," comes Gitae's low voice.

"What?"

"I can teach you," he repeats and your mouth drops open in shock.

.

.

Ok, as far as bad ideas go, this is a terrible one.

First, Gitae is huge. There is no chance you could even win in a spar or anything against him. You doubt even bullets would be able to penetrate that muscle.

Second, there is a lot of close contact and even more touching.

You aim a punch with all your might at him, any part of him. He deflects without effort, capturing your fist in his palm and he pulls you to his body. Chest against your back, wrapping his arms around you and pinning your own to your side as you try to wriggle out of his grasp.

He leans down to murmur into your ear. "You're very weak." You can feel his voice rumbling through his chest. "But you're very fun."

Your eyes snap to his at his words.

He's grinning, for the first time you've been with him. Eyes crazed and pupils blown, breath hot on your skin.

"Thanks!" You dip your head just before throwing it back sharply, connecting to Gitae's nose with a loud crack.

.

.

Gitae's nose isn't broken though it is bruised.

You apologise profusely and he tells you you have nothing to apologise for.

"It's a great hit."

You halt in your apologies, peering up at him through your lashes with a smug smirk, "I know."

.

.

Your response plays on his mind.

The lift of your lips, the sharpness of your smile, the confidence in your eyes, that half-lidded gaze.

"I know."

.

.

Gitae sees you in a new light.

He has enough of an understanding of Goo Kim to know that he's selective with his secret friends, and you have talked enough that Gitae also understands you play the role of brain rather than brawn.

Though he did not expect such viciousness to hide under your veneer, or you to be capable of such an underhanded move.

He's impressed.

.

.

"Why do all these shows make Mexico so blue?" You ask, watching a scene unfold on your phone. "Is it actually?"

You hold out the device to Gitae, some drama show playing and Mexico is indeed blue tinged.

"No."

"Hmm. It'll be cool to see for myself." You murmur, pulling your phone back.

Gitae pauses. The idea of you in his territory is very appealing. He can demonstrate to you exactly the kind of man he is, the power he wields. He can relish the impressed (or horrified) look on your face.

"I can show you," he says and you beam at the offer.

"Deal!"

.

.

“How many people have you killed with this?” you flex your hands, signalling ‘gimme’ and Gitae passes over his axe.

“Too many to count.”

“Cool,” you say nonchalantly,  testing your grip. Gitae gives you a strange look.

“I gather intel, remember. That’s my thing,” you say, swinging the axe experimentally a few times and appreciating the heft behind it.

The meaning is clear: I know all your secrets and Gitae, to his surprise, feels some respite at this fact.

.

.

"Fuck," you squirm to no avail, trapped underneath Gitae as he looks down at you lazily, inches from your face.

Your wrists are pinned above your head, held in place by his grip as his other hand rests, light but threatening, on your throat.

You have had a few other training sessions since the first one, and the way they had gone was all pure luck. You had managed to gain the upperhand by complete fluke.

This time you feel completely stuck. Movement completely restricted. Gitae straddles your hips and you’re left unable to escape. You have no way to get close and cause any damage.

"Looks like you lose," he says.

You buck your hips, trying to throw him off but the weight and strength difference is too vast. He barely moves even with all your effort and you’re left more dishevelled than before. Shirt riding up and hair in your eyes and mouth.

“Fuck,” you groan again, elongating the word and pouting.

You peer up at Gitae and find his eyes flicking between your jutted out bottom lip and your sliver of skin on show.

An idea pops into your head. It may be your worst one yet.

Throwing caution to the wind, you tilt your head up in one swift movement and kiss Gitae full on the mouth. You make contact harder than anticipated, almost clashing your teeth painfully together but adjusting the angle just in time. 

His body stills when he realises what you’re doing.

“Why-” he asks, pulling away, and you take advantage of the distance to nip at his bottom lip and reel him back in.

Gitae’s thoughts are cut off. 

You bite down roughly, feel your sharp canines punctuating skin.

Blood bursts onto your tongue and he lets out a guttural groan, eyes boring into yours and darkened with lust.

His other hand releases your wrist, caressing over your body, slipping down until it reaches your bare exposed skin. He slides his palm under your top, long, thick fingers splaying over your ribs.

With your hands now free, you continue kissing him, mingling spit and saliva and bursts of metallic tang.

You squirm and this time, Gitae gives in to what you want; rearranging his position without breaking contact. Tongue delving into your mouth. Tasting you as you wrap your legs around his hips.

Taking advantage of the situation, you hug your arms around his neck and use your body as leverage to flip him over. Straddling him as his hardness grinds into you and his hands circle your waist to press your body close.

You can feel exactly how turned on he is, how much he wants you. And god, you’re just as fucking horny. You want him just as badly, except now you’ve managed to climb on top, the whole point of this came rushing back. You absolutely hate yourself for stopping this but-

It’s the principle.

“You know,” you murmur into his mouth, then pushing up off his chest to sit up, “I think I’ve won. Again”

Gitae frowns at the sudden loss of contact, “What?”

“I’ve won. Pretend this is a knife,” you smirk, holding your hand against his throat, in an almost-mirror image of your previous position. “I would have killed you.”

Gitae’s eyes widened in surprise, “You did this… to win?” 

“Yep!”

“I didn’t expect you to play so dirty.” He says, grinning maniacally as the pieces click into place and he finds himself completely captivated.

“I play as dirty as I need to,” you tell him, tongue swiping out to lick the remnants of his blood from your lips before dipping your head down to kiss him and continue where you left off.

[koiiiji]

touch starved

author's note ; highly inspired by ptjs tiktok with alarms. first art cr. to loveissiwan on X.

Jonggun doesn’t ask for hugs. he doesn’t initiate warmth. and he definitely doesn’t admit to wanting it.

to most people, he’s all sharp angles and cold control — distant, untouchable. that’s how he likes it too. how he’s always been. people respect fear and power. and Jonggun is very good at giving them reasons to keep their distance.

raised on fists and discipline, taught that strength meant survival, he was trained to fight — not to feel. touch, in Yamazaki world, had always meant something else. a punch. a blow. a warning. nothing comforting ever came from it. so somewhere along the way, his body just stopped expecting softness altogether.

no one really hugged Jonggun growing up. no one ruffled his hair or held him helping hand. what he got instead were commands, missions, the expectations to be perfect weapon and leader. without any hesitations. emotions were inefficient. touch was a liability.

so now, when something warm and human stirs in his chest, he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

Jonggun doesn’t want to fight you. that’s the first thing he understands.

he doesn’t want to intimidate, doesn’t want to keep you at arm’s length like he does with everyone else. but affection? that’s foreign territory. too soft. too vulnerable. too un-Jonggun.

so he does what he can.

he flicks your forehead when you're distracted. he pokes your side when you don’t respond to him. he pinches your cheek when you ignore his presence — subtle little things, rough around the edges. never quite a real touch, never too serious. just enough to feel you.

it looks like teasing on the outside. it’s easy to mistake it for annoyance actually.

but it’s the only way Jonggun knows how to ask for touches.

because he knows that you will always brush his hand away in annoyance. or slap his forearm in playful manner if he bother you too much. a fleeting touch of fingers. the slightest touch. such a small thing Jonggun can forgive himself for, but still wanting more.

because hugging you? that would be crossing a line he doesn’t know how to return from. asking for closeness would mean admitting he wants it — needs it — and that’s too exposed, too raw. he doesn’t have the language for it.

so he lingers instead. he sits a little closer than necessary. lets his shoulder brush yours. stands behind you quietly, watching, protecting even.

and if he ever tickles you — which he does more than he’d admit — it’s because laughter feels safer than silence. because if you’re laughing, you’re not questioning his motives. you're not asking him what he really wants. and you're not pulling away.

he doesn’t touch people if its not fight. but with you, he finds his own excuses.

Jonggun not trying to be cruel or confusing — it’s just all he knows.

so no, Park Jonggun never ask for hugs.

but sometimes, when he flicks your ear or pulls you into a half-hearted scuffle that feels more like a game than a fight — maybe he’s asking anyway. in the only way he knows how.