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she/her | 25+ | unhinged fangirl | yumejoshi
current hyperfixation: DC, Lookism
reader supremacy
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💋 smut of varying degrees
🩸 graphic violence, gore
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[Hello, Host! The fics here default to an AFAB or at least, a reader character who uses feminine pronouns and/or pet names, so for efficiency’s sake, only exceptions will be given their own masterlists.]
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[IMAGE SOURCE: The image on this post is a photo of the Orion Nebula aka Messier 42, provided by NASA, ESA, M. Robberto (Space Telescope Science Institute/ESA) and the Hubble Space Telescope Orion Treasury Project Team. Lifted from: https://science.nasa.gov/mission/hubble/science/explore-the-night-sky/hubble-messier-catalog/messier-42/]
my favorite higuruma headcanons .ᐟ ⋆˚࿔ pt. 2
wc. 1.3k | cw. nsfw under the cut. mdni.
part 1 here!
higuruma doesn't know how to truly relax, he can't help it, this man is on the verge of a constant nervous breakdown. but wearing his loungewear helps him a little, because it's high-quality linen trousers and cotton tees. though if someone knocks on the door, he immediately throws on a knit cardigan or a hoodie because he feels "naked" without a layer of formality.
i'm pretty sure he owns a high-end air purifier because, as i said before, his nose is sensitive. if higuruma spots a single dust mote dancing in a sunbeam while he's reading, he'll stop everything to clean
after a trial, higuruma enters airplane mode. he can sit on the sofa staring at a wall for 20 minutes in total silence. he's not sad, his brain is just defragmenting the day's files. if you try to talk to him, he'll respond with a soft mmh that has at least five different meanings.
because he reads so much international literature, he's picked up the basics of several languages. if you're at a restaurant and the menu has a typo in spanish or french, higuruma will stare at it with a furrowed brow. he won't say anything to avoid being that guy, but the vein in his forehead will give him away.
even though he spends a fortune on books, higuruma loves libraries for the absolute silence. he has a very worn-out library card and gets genuinely offended if the librarian asks him if he wants to renew it.
i'm a firm believer that higuruma likes movies where "nothing happens" but the production design is flawless. he would be one of those people who would leave the cinema last, always staying through the credits until the very end, out of pure respect.
when you argue over something small, like who didn't wash a mug, higuruma subconsciously starts using terms like "circumstantial evidence" or "burden of proof". if you laugh at him, he gets very dignified, crosses his arms, and says: "i'm trying to reach a logical resolution, i don't see the humor," but inside he's fighting a smile because he knows he's being too much.
higuruma expresses love through retention. if you mentioned in passing months ago that you missed a specific candy from your childhood or that a certain scent makes you feel calm, he catalogs it. he won't give you a gift just because it's a holiday; he'll give it to you on a random tuesday because he just happened to find it, when in reality, he spent three weeks tracking down that specific item.
if higuruma buys you a book, it won't just be a bestseller. it will be an edition with a specific texture of paper he knows you'll like. sometimes, if he's feeling particularly vulnerable, he'll leave a single, tiny pencil mark next to a passage that reminded him of you. it's a very blink-and-you'll-miss-it gesture, but for him, it's a massive confession.
if you are stressed or sick, his affectionate side goes into overdrive. higuruma will give you a survival kit that you'll find on your counter: the exact medicine you need, a thermos of tea at the perfect temperature, some cooked, cozy meals, and perhaps a handwritten note saying that you should rest, please.
even when the gift is purely romantic, he still includes the receipt and the warranty. but it's not because higuruma is being cold, it's because he wants you to have the security of knowing that if the item fails you, he has already provided the solution. to him, providing you with a hassle-free life is the highest form of devotion
occasionally, higuruma will see something, a piece of jewelry with a gemstone that matches your eyes or a scarf in your favorite color, and he'll buy it instantly. he'll present it with a stoic face, saying nothing, but the way he won't look you in the eye tells you he just wanted to see you smile.
higuruma would never walk into a florist and pick whatever looks nice. he would spend at least an hour cross-referencing botanical books or hanakotoba manuals to ensure the message is precise and hear me out here!
if higuruma made a mistake or was too cold during an argument, he wouldn't bring you generic red roses. he'd bring white anemones, which symbolize sincerity and truth, or purple hyacinths, a formal plea for forgiveness. he wouldn't say much when handing them over; he'd just wait for you to look up the meaning, watching you with that silent, heavy intensity.
also, along with the flowers, there is always a small card written in his impeccable, fountain-pen calligraphy. higuruma is a man who is better with written words than with spoken words.
if he's deeply in love but still too dignified to be cheesy, he'll give you red camellias. in the japanese flower language, they symbolize deep love, passion, and admiration. because they look so elegant and structured, higuruma feels he can maintain his serious lawyer persona while secretly telling you something incredibly intense.
nsfw under the cut
higuruma has a prosecutor's stare that intimidates everyone. in bed, he uses that gaze to analyze you. he's not being cold; he's absorbing every detail of your pleasure. if you ask him to stop looking, he'll probably lean in closer, whispering that he needs to see exactly how your body reacts to him
he's obsessed with the feeling of his skin against yours. since he's a hygiene freak, sex with higuruma sometimes starts with a shower or bath. it's a transition ritual: leaving the lawyer behind and becoming the man who just wants to worship your body.
if you have him between your legs and you stroke his hair while telling him how good he is or how much you love him, his fingers will dig into your thighs, his breathing will become a total mess because higuruma has a praise kink
if your into bdsm, higuruma won't go for rough ropes immediately; he prefers his own silk ties or pocket squares because they are soft, they smell like his cologne, and they are a direct symbol of his professional status being used for something sinful. watching him take off his tie to bind your hands while keeping that deadly serious expression is... a religious experience imo
higuruma adopts a very professional attitude to his legal duties, but when you visit him late at night at his office when he's stressed over a case, he might just snap. there's something about being surrounded by evidence and official documents that triggers a need for visceral control. he will clear his desk, pressing you down onto the case files, blurring the line between his duty and his desperate need to unwind. he'll eat you right there, trying to release his stress.
higuruma can tolerate a suit all day, but as soon as he gets home, he needs to be touched. he'll shiver when you undo his collar or trace your fingernails down his back. his skin flushes remarkably easily, especially when you use dirty words or laugh softly during serious moments. he hates this lack of composure, which, of course, makes him even more reactive
higuruma likes explicit instructions for order. but if you take charge, like grabbing his tie and pulling him down, or ordering him to stay still, his brain stalls. all that legal structure collapses. sub!higuruma briefly reappears. and if you praise him, his eyes go dazed, his muscles lock up, and he will follow any direction with silent, frantic obedience.
when higuruma is giving pleasure, he approaches it with the focus of a surgeon or a judge reading a complex ruling. he won't rush. he wants to know exactly what works, registering your breathing and every subtle hitch in your voice. he aims for maximum efficiency. if you tell him exactly what to do to make you cum, he'll implement it immediately, satisfied when he successfully wins your release
as soon as you both finish, his first instinct is cleanup. not just a casual wipe, higuruma will carry you to the shower, meticulously washing you with gentle, efficient care. it's his transition ritual back into civilized higuruma. he needs to ensure you are both well and clean, before he feels comfortable cuddling.
things that have been on my mind lately (,,>﹏<,,) oh, what a curse it is to be a lover girl 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻
It's truly fascinating how taste changes with age. Years ago, I preferred Sukuna and Gojo but now, the more "stable" guys like Higuruma and Nanami are the ones to catch my eye.
Anyway, I love these headcanons!! A world where I'm in a healthy relationship with a great man, that's the dream 😫🥹🤧
you know, it look like you know that DG and gitae are about throw hands at each other 🤣🤣 since the new update literally like that in your new chapter, thanks for always updating take care of your health 😘
Hi anon, thank you so much for your sweet message.
Loving all of your stories. Please get plenty of rest and drink lots of water.
I was thinking about the baby Yamazaki and his extended family. How would Jake react to the fact that baby is really his biological nephew and sharing uncle duty with Gun? I know he doesn’t mind being uncles with Samuel. I figured Gun would try to hog baby’s and reader’s attention away from Jake.
All of Baby's uncles are the "fun" uncles, but some are more responsible than others. Ironically enough, Jake is more responsible than Samuel because he doesn't fall for those giant boba eyes as easily wahahaha
Hello, I hope you're doing well may ask I just have this imagine sinc that of the both grandfathers arguing with baby's charm (Gap and Shingen mainly) I wonder it they to compete with each other where gap wanted baby to take the Kim name and Shingen wanted the baby to take the Yamazaki namne but noona will say no to both last name and they will get pout in the corner while noona ignored them both with gun nearby being shocked at his noona boldy declining both powerful last name
Noona has seen their pasts and futures with her own eyes (whether in her past life or because of the webcomics), so she has no desire for her son to inherit their destinies.
tbh I've started to read "my baby brother is the strongest" in quotev bc I always read there, but I'm still happy I got tag and I still heart it in here after I read it in quotev.
anyway, I hope your doing okay and always prioritize yourself ヾ(❀╹◡╹)ﾉﾞ
lots of love from me! (≧▽≦)
Aw, thank you! I hope you're doing okay as well <3
Hey🩵 I just read the newest chapter of Lookism and I just know for a fact that Gitae and DG are going to have another verbal spat over who should be treated by Noona first.
Gitae: Move, I'm going to be treated first. Don't you see much I'm bleeding here?
DG: So what? I got my eardrums blown out and then some
Noona: Then go to the ER, both of you
Noona is NOT impressed. You just know she'll be scolding both of them while they're on their knees.
They love every second of it. They love their "nagging" wife.
That update again is wonderful, now gitae and James now know that the woman they want is the same person I wonder if they still will be partners for the grand scheme, and boy poor gun is gonna faint from anger and shock that another pyscho is interested in his noona🤣🤣
I have cute idea about baby first steps and noona was reading on couch then she found baby walking to her excitedly like mommy look I am walking
Noona: (reading while Baby is napping)
Baby: (wakes up and sees his mom, instead of crying, he rolls onto his stomach and crawls until he reaches the couch. he uses the cushion to stand on his feet) Mmmama
Noona: (didn't hear him)
Baby: (pouting, he takes one step forward, then another, and then another) M-mama!
Noona: Yes, honey, mommy is--oh my God.
Baby: (finally smiles when his mom notices him and toddles forward)
Noona: Ohmygod,ohmygod! (gets on her knees and opens her arms)
Baby: (laughs and dives into his mother's arms)
Noona: My baby is walking! You're so cool! Aw! *mwah* *mwah* *mwah*
The ghosts of Gapryong Kim and Shingen Yamazaki: (watching proudly 'cause they were cheering on the little man when he took the first step forward)
“Six a.m., like clockwork,” Jason mumbled, peering through the binoculars.
“My words exactly,” Dick said when he landed on the rooftop.
Ignoring him, Jason bit into his convenience store breakfast sandwich and watched you draw the living room curtains open, wearing the usual robe, too colorful and retro to have been your choice; likely something your personal assistant picked out for you.
He put down his binoculars and unwrapped two more of the same stale sandwich.
Fifteen minutes later, you emerged from the building in casual clothes—too casual, he thought. You needed a thicker coat in this weather. And gloves.
Today, your pit bull wore a string of space-violet pearls around his neck (yesterday, the pearls were pastel blue, and the day before that, he wore a frilled yellow bib) and boots to protect his paws from the cold cement. The pup waited patiently as you rubbed your bare palms together. His skinny tail came to life when you smiled and led him down the street. He wasn’t limping anymore.
Dick swiped a sports drink from the paper bag.
“You won’t even enter that library she built for you but knowing her routine and watching her through military-grade lenses is somehow okay.”
“Thank you for your observation, Dr. Phil. Now get lost, I’ll go on patrol once they’re done and safe back home.”
Jason put away the sandwich wrappers and put on his helmet.
Red Hood leapt to the next rooftop, never taking his sight off you two. This time, he was going to make sure he’ll be close enough to stop any potential dog attack.
He had your schedule memorized down to the second, which sounds impressive, but since you leave the house exactly twice a day, it really isn’t.
06:00 - 07:00 morning walk
07:00 - 09:00 you disappeared into your bedroom until it was time to eat
09:00 - 10:00 breakfast
10:00 - 12:00 you stayed in your room
12:00 - 13:00 lunch
13:00 - 18:00 you watched TV, played with the dog or stayed hidden completely until—
18:00 - 19:00 evening walk
Changes were minor, like cutting down your daily walks to half the usual time. However, now that Peter the Dog was feeling better, you were slowly adding back the minutes to your morning and evening outings.
Jason was happy, not just for the dog’s health but because he could watch you for a little longer again. You kept the curtains closed in both bedrooms and you seldom stayed in the living room.
He knows what this looks like. But he swears that after the first month and he confirmed your general routine, he leaves his usual nest in front of your building to patrol around the city, or at least around the neighborhood.
Today though, you left the apartment again at 8:06, getting inside a butter-yellow Volkswagen Beetle driven by your fifty-four-year-old assistant.
Jason refused to invade your life any more than he already has, which is why he avoided following you online, however, it wasn’t like he could just ignore it when Dick dropped tidbits about your work, such as how you were already in the casting phase for The Scarlet Knight film.
He tagged the car with his helmet and pulled out his grappling gun.
There was a line of guys outside of YourScene Studios. Some were fit, some were paunchy. Some looked to be fresh out of high school, others were clearly in their 30s. All of them had jet-black hair.
Your assistant’s Beetle disappeared into the building’s private parking. Jason was debating whether or not he should follow when, among the sea of black-haired wannabe actors, he spotted one very specific asshole who managed to catch the attention of every female passerby.
Dickhead finally noticed him spying from the roof and winked.
I’m gonna kill him.
Everything happened so fast. Jason remembered Dick appearing next to him on the roof—where he evaded Jason’s attempts to choke him—and then the two of them were waiting in line, dressed in civilian clothes.
“Why are we here?!” Jason demanded. Everybody else was busy with their own noise that his shouting didn’t disturb them.
Dick opened his front camera and finger-combed his hair. “You’re stubborn as hell, but you wanna see your girl, don’t you?”
When it came to insults, or anything out of Dick’s mouth, Jason’s reflex was to retort, but hearing “your girl” overrode his instincts. He raised his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “She’s not my girl.”
“Hey, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can just leave. Well, you can.”
“No, we’re already here so…” Jason looked away.Dick closed his phone and smirked. Too easy.
***
You didn’t know why you were here.
You told your agent that she can choose the actors on your behalf. Neither you nor Jason held live action adaptations in high regard, the only exception was the Pride and Prejudice miniseries from the 90s. However, Dorothea was insistent that you choose.
Blanca did your hair a little too extravagantly for a casting. She also tossed your white dress shirt and gray trousers back in the closet in favor of a tight-fitting blouse and hip-hugging bootcut jeans. It was like she was compensating for the surgical mask covering your face.
You suspected that the two ladies were hoping for you to find Mr. Right from the sea of dark-haired strangers. They would have a higher chance of meeting a living, breathing dragon.
Despite your lack of social skills, even you knew when to feign interest. But Lord was it hard.
The actor in front of you was still in the middle of his speech about how your work changed his life and helped him—
Blah blah blah
It was cruel to be so dismissive of one’s fans, but you stopped caring about other people’s opinions years ago. The one person whom you wanted to impress was long gone.
The minutes felt like forever as every aspiring actor declared their love for your work, or shared their long-standing dream to be a movie star, or their desperation to be part of something big.
You couldn’t take it anymore and Dorothea, who was no stranger to your moods, suggested a short break.
You didn’t smile, but you nodded at her gratefully before wobbling out of there.
You kept your palm over the wall as you tried to keep your breakfast down.
You never liked crowds, but to sit down next to some nepo baby director who shamelessly stared at your chest during conversation while you are forced to watch various men try and fail to embody one of your precious characters was a unique type of Hell.
You covered your mouth. Maybe Blanca was right, eating week-old leftovers wasn’t the brightest idea.
Just as you felt like throwing up, the hairs on your nape stood and you whipped your head. “Who’s there?”
The mystery man held out his arms, but standing over six feet, the gesture did little to make him look harmless. He wore a blue cap over his black hair and a surgical mask, obscuring most of his features.
“S-sorry,” he squeaked. He cleared his throat and repeated, “Sorry.”
“You’re one of the auditionees.”
“Yeah.”
“This area is off limits.”
“Oh, uh, I didn’t know. I was trying to find the restroom.” He had a deep, rumbly voice. If you weren’t on high alert you might have found it attractive instead of suspicious.
You weren’t all too familiar with the building’s layout either, but he didn’t need to know that. “Well, this place is for staff only.”
“Yeah, sure. Sorry again.”
“...”
“...”
“What?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that… you don’t look well.”
Displeasure must have been evident on your face because he frantically waved his hands. “I meant that you look sick.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know this place is for off limits but I can—”
“Don’t worry, my assistant’s nearby. She’ll help me.” Actually, Blanca went to the 7-Eleven downstairs, but again, he didn’t need to know that. “Thanks for your concern, but you should really leave before security finds you.” You didn’t give him a chance to respond as you speedwalked into the ladies’ room.
The rest of the day was a slow burn torture. The mystery man never auditioned though; whether because he gave up on the role or had more sinister plans for following you.
Anyway, after hours of deliberation—particularly on Wren’s actor—you and the director finally decided on the final picks for the main cast.
You refused the invitation for drinks and went straight home, where you were more than happy to strip down to your underwear and collapse on your couch.
Peter the Dog plopped his chin on the cushion.
You gave him a weak smile and rubbed his head. “I’m okay.”
He huffed, not believing you.
You fished for the remote and turned on the TV. A familiar tune played and Peter hurried to sit in front of the screen, where his favorite Bluey[1] was dancing.
Exhausted, your eyes closed themselves.
***
Jason forced himself to focus on Peter the Dog’s wagging tail instead of your bare thighs. For all the time he has spent peek—watching, this was the most skin he has ever seen from you.
You deserved better than to feel violated in your own home, so he repressed every bestial instinct and kept his gaze on a respectful view. That being said, you were going to catch a cold if like this—
Nightwing appeared next to him. “Any changes—”
“!!!” Jason’s hands swung, his binoculars flying in the air.
“Whoa, what’s your damage, Heather?” Nightwing caught the very expensive equipment before it could fall over the roof.
Jason panted, catching his breath.
Nightwing turned to your window. His mask zoomed in on your sleeping form, but upon seeing the state of you, he respectfully looked away.
He then smirked at his brother. “Oh. Wow. I forgot that you died a virgin.”
“Shut up! And give me that!”
Nightwing danced around Jason.
“Relax. I’ve been there. Well, not really. I never played Peeping Tom before, but I’ve been hormonal; I know what having a first love is like, so I get it.” His eyes flitted back towards your window. “Plus, she’s actually cute—whoa!”
He narrowly dodged Jason’s fist.
Dick was about to say something but seeing Jason’s face stopped him. Dick Grayson had been on the receiving end of countless glares, some from actual demons and even Batman himself, but none of those chilled him the way Jason’s did at this very moment.
“Dick,” Jason said, his eyes glinting a venomous green, “forget everything that you saw.”
“Hey now, I was joking. I barely saw anything—”
“But you saw, didn’t you?” Your panties, your squishable thighs, your sleeping face.
A hole opened up in Jason’s stomach, expanding and reaching his chest. He couldn’t stand it. Just the thought of anyone seeing you made him sick. Jason knew that he had no right to feel this possessive over you; if you had someone else, another man to watch over you and see you in your most vulnerable state then he should be happy. But he couldn’t stop the void that formed inside him whenever he thought about you belonging to somebody else.
Dick watched his brother sulk. He then handed him the binoculars. “I’m sorry for messing with you. I didn’t see anything, okay? You know that I would never peep.”
“...”
“Jason.”
“You promise you didn’t see anything?”
“Maybe her hair, but honestly, I was too distracted by Peter. That’s one cute dog.”
“...”
Jason grabbed the binoculars from Dick, who then offered him a handkerchief.
Jason cocked an eyebrow.
Dick pointed at his own mouth and Jason reflexively moved his tongue, soon noticing the taste of rust. He touched his chin and looked down to find blood on his fingers.
He had bitten his own lip.
Ignoring the Superman handkerchief, he used the back of his fist to wipe away the blood.
“Geez, dude. Are you okay?”
“...”
“I really think that you should talk to her. It’s a better, dare I say, healthier approach than this.” Dick gestured over the roof.
“She’s already built a life for herself,” Jason replied, grabbing a box of tissues from his 7-Eleven bag. “She doesn’t need me barging in and ruining her happiness.”
“Really…” Dick snuck one last glimpse through the window. Your fatigue was evident on your sleeping face.
He then turned to Jason, who reminded him of a dog abandoned on the streets.
You both look pretty miserable to me.
[1] Bluey: An Australian kids cartoon. Watch it to heal your inner child.
Series Title/AU: My Baby Brother is the Strongest Character
<<read the synopsis and content warnings first>>
featuring: James Lee/DG, Gitae Kim
Content/Trigger Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, sexual themes
Waking up at ten a.m., not worrying about work, breakfast by the pool minus other people—a part of you now understands why politicians resort to corruption.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” You pointed your knife at Diego’s plate.
You two were served salad with a light vinaigrette dressing, a fluffy egg white omelette, and an assortment of tropical fruits.
While you inhaled everything, he had a sip of lemon water and nothing else.
“I’m full just watching you eat, noona.” He winked.
Your nose twitched with annoyance. “You realize this is free, don’t you?”
“I need to watch my weight.”
“Oh.” Right. Now you felt kinda guilty. But still. “I get it, I do, but it seems like a waste not to eat. At least have the salad.”
“I’ll eat if noona spoonfeeds me.”
“Get real.”
“There’s no way you don’t remember.”
How could you forget? This world-renowned idol—smiling innocently across from you—used to be a delinquent, one with too much time and an awful personality. James Lee was a frequent (and unwanted) visitor of yours. He showed up at your door during ungodly hours, covered in blood and bruises. Knowing what you knew from the source material and the fact that none of his injuries warranted a trip to the ER, you had a sneaking suspicion that he got hurt on purpose. However, you were too soft-hearted to turn away a kid in the middle of the night. He didn’t need to say much. Gun was right. And so was Sammy, and so was Goo. You were a pushover. One sad look was enough to shatter your defenses.
“I still have all those adorable bandages you used on me. They’re safely stored in a sealed glass container in my closet.”
“Yeah, sure you do.” You scoffed at his teasing. What kind of psychopath would keep all those dirty bandages?
“Anyway, here.” You sliced a mango into tiny cubes and placed it beside his plate. “The mangoes are perfect. You don’t have to eat everything but you gotta at least try these.”
“You’re not gonna feed me?”
“I am feeding you.”
He pouted and grabbed your hand, wet with mango sap. He then looked directly into your eye and started sucking on your fingers.
You tried to pull away but like a venus flytrap, the moment you struggled, the tighter he held on. The veins throbbed visibly on his arm.
“You—”
“You’re right,” he said, dragging his tongue from your wrist to the wedge between your ring and middle fingers, “it tastes perfect, like it was made just for me.”
Jesus, this damn brat. Under the pink hair, white clothes and angelic features he was just another deviant.
You refused to admit that he had an effect on you. You were going to forget the feeling of that…big, soft, hot tongue pressed against your skin. Diego might have been a friend you didn’t consent to having, but he was still your friend plus you knew him since he was a senior in high school. You had to cut whatever feelings he gave you before they blossomed. Life here was complicated enough as it is.
“Noona,” he whispered as he sucked on your ring finger. Those steely eyes pierced right through you. “I can feel your pulse.”
He smiled knowingly.
You gritted your teeth as your thighs squeezed together.
His teasing never worked on you before, so why now?
You thought about it and decided that it was because you were close to ovulating. That’s it.
As you agreed to this reasoning, the light above you dimmed. What happened to the sun?
You looked up and—“Ah.”
Gitae Kim stood behind Diego.
Of course.
“What’s the meaning of this, mi vida?”
You were too stunned to speak, both at his presence and the audacity.
Diego tilted his chin slightly to face the beast. He glanced over to you. The genius gremlins inside that skull of his worked overtime and his lips curled, like he just heard the punchline.
“You must be mistaken. ‘Mi vida’?,” he said, pressing a kiss to your ring finger, “this woman is my bride.”
Maybe it’s from spending time with monsters like Gun and Goo, but you have developed the ability to react faster than the average person when it comes to stopping gratuitously flashy, potentially lawsuit-involving fights, so you jumped to your feet and put on your best customer service smile. “G—Mister Gitae Kim, would you like to dine with us?”
Both men chorused a flat “What” and next thing you knew, a new chair was brought in and staff members scattered like frightened ants after setting Gitae’s place at the table.
Now that you wiped the mango sap and DG’s saliva from your hand, you could finally soak in Gitae Kim. The son of a bitch was covered in different shades of red lipstick, from his Adam’s apple to his bare shoulders. Some trailed below his ribs and into his unzipped jeans.
You rejected him, but it hurt your ego that he moved on that quickly. You admit it: you’re a vain hypocrite.
“Like what you see?”
“No,” you said, grinning a little too tightly. “I was just in awe of how big your boobs are.” Major lie. Sammy’s boobs were way bigger.
That made Gitae laugh and you heard a disappointed harrumph beside you.
How Diego managed to move his seat right next to you without you noticing, you will never know.
“I didn’t realize you like big chests, noona. Are mine not good enough for you?”
“Shut up, I was joking.” Lies.
“Mm, that’s true. If it’s too big then it’s just grotesque.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, James Lee?”
“It’s Diego now, actually, and I don’t mean to offend you. I’m just saying, girls are good at acting like they’re having fun when they get paid. We all know that at the end of the day, it all boils down to skill.” Diego turned to you. “Right, noona?”
Gitae sneered. “They say that tiny, insecure guys do tend to overcompensate.”
“Noona’s never had to worry about that. She’s seen every part of me and trust me, I’m the perfect fit for her.”[1]
“Really? ‘Cause she had a lot of fun with mine.”
DG’s smile tightened.
Gitae turned his chin up, looking smug.
The mango felt like rubber in your mouth.
You were going to get a stomachache eating with these idiots.
…You missed Gun and Goo.
Gitae Kim has never been persistent when it came to women. He was a murderer, a thug, a thief, but he stopped all advances when a woman made it clear that she wasn’t interested. For a man as vicious as him, even he had a line in the sand. Besides, with every no he got, there were five yeses just waiting for him.
You were the first woman who ever made him work for a yes.
His second-in-command broke his poker face when Gitae had asked him for advice. The daily visits, the ridiculous bouquets, the cheesy lines—they were all suggestions from his men. He got frustrated when none of it worked on you.
Then he found you in that bar, alone, dressed in something else other than scrubs and wearing makeup that could tempt anything with a pulse. You were also drunk as hell.
He hadn’t intended for things to go as far as they did. He preferred his bed partners lucid, but you clung onto him, pouting with lips begging to be kissed. Only a fool would turn you away.
Gitae Kim has been with plenty of women. Every girl was undeniably and objectively sexy, but you were the only one who left a mark on his mind.
An apparition that refused to leave him.
The faces you made, the way he witnessed your expressions change from utter disgust to raw vulnerability, as you laid your heart bare to him.
The cold, empty space on his bed when he realized that you left him.
Even as he held countless women—every single one gorgeous and willing to be his, whether out of carnal desire or a lust for power and wealth—memories of you remained in the back of his mind.
No. Actually, not even in the back of his mind.
Your robe-wearing ghost stood there, sneering at him as a random girl bounced on his dick. Lying beside him was her friend, he was squeezing her breast as she massaged her own clit. They were office workers on their day off. He met them right after you told him to leave you alone.
If only you would leave him alone.
“Is that it?” You asked. “You were way harder that night. I know you can get a lot bigger too. Are you worried this one can’t take it?”
The girls moaned and “you” mockingly covered your giggling mouth. “You’re awfully lazy today. You’re usually more proactive. Do you remember? You almost carved me into the mattress.”
You’re right. The older he got, the less effort he put into making things pleasurable for his partners. He usually laid back and let the ladies do the work.
But you brought out a hunger in him that night. He couldn’t get enough of you, he pathetically plunged himself into you like an animal in heat—worse, like a virgin. He had to pay the hotel extra for the bed you two broke.
Suddenly, you were no longer standing beside him but sitting over him. Your robe was undone, your breasts and belly spilling out, begging to be squeezed.
You bent over him, close enough to kiss, and whispered, “Let’s come together, cariño.” [2]
The girl on top of Gitae yelped as his large hands clamped onto her hips. She moaned as he grew inside her, but he didn’t hear her. Your sounds filled his mind completely.
The woman beside him bit her lip as she watched Gitae push her friend onto her back and folded her knees to her ears.
There was no need for jealousy though, because the curse was broken—somewhat—as your ghost possessed them both.
The girls screamed in unison as the bed faltered, two of the legs broke, but Gitae didn’t notice.
For the first time in years, Gitae was satisfied.
The next morning, Gitae Kim didn’t even bother showering as he stalked the halls, looking for you. He was still hungry and no other woman would do.
When he found you, you were with someone else. A man.
Worse, it was James fucking Lee.
***
“Anyway, what can I do for you, Mister Kim?” you asked the thug who had been staring at you like a piece of meat.
“Just call me Gitae, mi vida, and you still haven’t given me your name.”
Your eyebrow twitched but you remained composed. “All right.” Realizing that it would be more annoying to keep it a secret, you finally surrendered your name.
He smiled—not a smirk, not a lazy grin, not a psychotic almost-snarl—Gitae Kim gave you a tiny, genuine smile that was so out of place with his rough features. It took you by surprise. But…not in a bad way.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Now that that’s out of the way, what exactly do you want from me?”
“Let’s go on a date.”
The pink-haired wolf beside you spoke up, “Oh Mister Kim, did you forget? She’s my fiancée.”
“I don’t see a ring on her finger.”
“That’s because I want it custom-made to her preference. The girl I love deserves the best things. A walking toilet such as yourself wouldn’t understand.”
As if the words went through one ear and out the other, Gitae grinned at you. “Besides, engaged doesn’t mean married. Idols like him are a dime a dozen.”
You heard the sound of metal breaking and saw Diego’s fork bent in half.
Breakfast continued like a fever dream. The two boys volleyed insults, making snide remarks about the size of the other’s penis and sex life.
It was like you were back in college—no, high school. Ugh.
Your free meal now ruined, you folded your napkin and stood up.
“Noona?”
“Mi vida?”
“I’m gonna go—” you decided mid-sentence not to tell them where you were going “—and be away from you guys. Bye.”
You walked out of the pool area but of course, Diego had followed you.
“Noona—”
“Please, I wanna be alone, just an hour would be perfect.” Breakfast was awful but maybe sweating out your stress in the sauna can salvage the morning.
“I changed my mind.”
“About what? For the record, I only have enough money for an emergency cab home so don’t tell me I have to—”
He pulled you by the waist, pressing your chests and bellies together.
“Let’s make it official now, noona.”
***
Gun flinched. His fingers hovered over the buttons of his navy blue shirt—a gift you lovingly chose for him—which he had taken off, folded and left in his car, where blood and rain won’t touch it while he took care of some bugs.
“What’s wrong?” Goo asked. He flicked his wrist, the blood on his umbrella splattered onto the men around him, eliciting a chorus of groans.
“Nothing.” Gun buttoned up his shirt and gestured for Goo to get back in the car.
“Hey, let’s stop by McDonald’s, I want—”
“No time. Noona’s going to check out in two hours. I promised to pick her up.”
“Isn’t the spa a thirty-minute ride from here?”
“Yes.”
“I want my nuggets!”
“Then walk.”
Gun didn’t want to risk traffic. Besides, the less amount of time you spend with that miscreant Diego Kang, the better. Gun was certain that the bad feeling he got just now was because of that.
It has to be.
He couldn’t imagine a worse scenario than you alone with one persistent creep.
[1] Just a reminder that James Lee/Diego Kang is confirmed to be huge or at least significantly bigger than average.
[2] Cariño: Spanish. A term of endearment like "honey" or "darling."
This reminds me of the meme that was popular among mothers on TikTok when they were breastfeeding their children while their husbands watched them jealously, and there was a background voice :you wish it was you huh! hhhhhhhh
Speeking of Baby persona when he grow in my imagination I see our baby grow up in persona that had Goo humour but more serious his uncle Samuel intelligence especially in money and his jake hero side like he will hit bullies to protect other kids and his uncle gun talent in Karate but he will do it as form of martial art like winning champions yet keeping his mother ignoring or "not knowing" people had crash on him like his mother yet somehow when I think of it like this he may have female friend had crazy persona I don't know why but I always see Yoon Garam/Yoon Karma from Plaything would be someone who had be friends " I know they are from diffrent Univeres but still a girl like Karma seem more like the Goo kim to our Gun like baby" still it's just my imagination
Baby has the Yamazaki and Kim genes AND perfect copy so... look out world lolol
