#dg x reader

One of your regulars is a mob boss with an X-shaped scar across his face. Newbies aren't allowed to service him.

The reason is simple: Jonggun Park likes rough sex.

He also doesn't hold back. 

Countless women have left his room covered in bruises, welts and scars. Some even received wounds on their faces. You're one of the rare few who volunteered to be with him. Unlike the other girls, you don't have friends or family to fuss over your injuries, and you weren't popular, so it's only logical to keep him entertained so the more in-demand workers can focus on other clients. 

Your first time with Gun Park was an experience. You used to think that you weren't into rough sex, but maybe your previous partners weren't rough enough. 

Gun gave you a safe word, but you never felt like using it.

You love having his tattooed arm hooked around your neck as he pounds you from behind. You can't get enough of his deep, rumbly voice calling you his cheap whore. You can't help but smile when he sneers down at you. 

The morning after is always painful, but you find the ache delicious. 

But Gun has changed. When he calls for you, he doesn't throw you to the couch or bed the moment you arrive. He invites you to eat with him and asks if the bruises he gave you last time still hurt.

You weren't one to say no to a free meal but it was disarming to have Gun Park treat you like a person. Even more disappointing is how he has been fucking you less and less. During your last visit, he ate you out until you came, and then he fell asleep without entering you.

Is he getting bored? You hope not.

You find Gun's violence titillating.

On the other hand, there is this other client, a giant named Gitae Kim. He was your introduction to orgies. Well, more like a harem. The man loves women so much he sleeps with them in groups. You were nervous at first, but the other girls—your "seniors" so to speak—were very nice. They even told you that a group arrangement with one man and multiple women is relatively easier and leagues safer than anything else.

But for some godforsaken reason, Gitae Kim singled you out. The man who was obsessed with harems began asking for you and you alone. Your co-workers were terrified on your behalf and begged the madam not to send you to him, but everyone knew that they can't say no to a mobster, let alone the boss of an entire syndicate.

But surprisingly enough, despite his history of group sex, Gitae Kim was… kinda vanilla. He liked to watch you suck him off and bounce on his dick, but that was it. However, as the other girls pointed out, you were the only one who could keep up with his stamina. Perhaps that's why he preferred having multiple partners.

You really do wish he would get bored of you already, because you've long gotten bored of him. More importantly, the oversized thug has begun sending you flowers. In your line of work, that kind of attention is dangerous. Instead of flattery, the bouquets of blood-red roses only served to freak you out.

Speaking of  freak, your least favorite client was also your first one. A beautiful man known only to you as "DG." He has a face that could put movie stars to shame, and a body that would have Michelangelo's David shaking.

DG started gently. You thought for sure that he was going to be one of your more "normal" clients. It turned out to be the opposite.

Like Lucifer, he was deceptively sweet.

He's the biggest pervert you've been with.

One of his favorite activities is using you as white noise to help him focus—he would type on his computer as your muffled screams and sloppy sounds filled the air. Usually, he just plugged you with toys, your arms and legs tied together while you suffered through delirious agony. Sometimes, J would take over.

You prefer J over the toys.

He always shows up wearing a policeman's uniform (probably one of DG's sick fetishes, you told yourself). In contrast to DG who never stops smiling, J's face remains impassive. However, J is kinder.

You like how warm he is, how he asks "Are you okay?" as he fills you.

But you barely see him, especially now that DG has decided to start fucking you with his own cock.

DG pulled you into a lover’s embrace and said, “Let’s make it official now, noona.”

“Enough already. I’m tired of your jokes.” You tried to get away and like a fly struggling in the maw of a Venus flytrap, you only made it worse. 

His arms squeezed the breath out of your lungs and DG put his chin on the top of your head. “If only I were born a little earlier,” he whispered.

He finally loosened his grip, but didn’t let go. 

DG took a step back and met your gaze. “Noona has the morals of a normal person so I told myself I’ll be patient, but I’ve overestimated my patience… or perhaps I underestimated my greed.”

It was hard to look away from those silver eyes of his.

“I know that you met me when I was just a brat. Maybe I wouldn’t be so impatient if you still saw me as that thug who followed you around. But I’m not blind.”

He cupped one side of your face. 

“I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose or maybe you’re just dense…it’s pretty cruel of you to give me hope only to keep rejecting me.”

Now that pissed you off. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He smiled. “We’re both adults, noona.”

He then whispered directly to your ear, “So how long will you deny us what we both want?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking abou—”

He was kissing you now. He tasted as sweet as mangoes.

But Diego kissing you was no more surprising than you kissing him back.

You almost lost yourself in his hold if not for the noise of incoming employees, causing you to panic and shove him off.

The staff passed by, greeting you both, but you stayed quiet. You kept your eyes on the floor.

Once they were gone, DG stared at you. “I’m sorry for kissing you so suddenly. This isn’t how I wanted it to happen, but am I wrong to think that you liked it too?”

“I…” You hung your head, too ashamed and confused to face him. “I can’t do this right now.”

“I understand.”

He let you go. “Please enjoy the rest of the morning. I’ll leave first. I assume your brother will pick you up?”

He shouldn’t have to leave. This was his free trip.

“Ja—Diego, wait.”

“Don’t worry about me.” He grabbed your hand and raised it to his lips. “I visit places like this all the time.”

You didn’t see Diego during the remaining hours at the spa.

No more than ten minutes in the sauna, you left, unable to relax as the heat only exacerbated your emotions.

There was no trace of DG when you returned to your suite. 

You felt too guilty to relax so you packed up your things and while waiting for the elevator, you looked up any nearby convenience stores where you could wait for Gun.

Ding.

You stepped inside, focused on your phone.

“...seven-minute walk away…” you muttered. 

“What is?”

“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t mean to—” you finally looked up and your mood soured “—talk aloud…”

Gitae Kim stood before you. Fully dressed this time. There were no traces of lipstick and perfume on him, which made you mildly happy for some reason. (You knew the reason, but you were too proud to admit it.)

“Leaving already?” he asked, glancing at your luggage.

“What gave me away?” The lame quip left your mouth before you could stop it, so you coughed and added, “I figured I should leave early to beat the afternoon traffic.”

“...”

“...”

You didn’t mind dead air, if anything, you preferred it over small talk, but you couldn’t stand the way he looked at you. It wasn’t a gross, shameless leering that many men would subject you to (though there was definitely a hint of lust in his eyes that he didn’t bother to hide)—he stared at you like he was trying to figure you out. Like he had a thousand questions at the back of his throat.

“...”

“...”

Gitae Kim: (⊙ _ ⊙ )

You: (ᴗ_ ᴗ  )

Gitae Kim: (⊙ _ ⊙ )

You: (ᴗ_ ᴗ ᵕ)

You glared at the operating panel. Why’s this damn elevator taking so fricking long?

As if hearing you curse at it, the elevator jittered and shook you off balance.

Gitae caught you by the arms as the elevator stopped moving completely.

You glanced up at the ceiling or whatever its elevator equivalent is called; you kept your poker face but in your head you were raging at the heavens with one word: WHY?

“Hey.”

“Huh?” You remembered that you weren’t the only captive right now.

Gitae was still holding you.

You gave him a nod. “Thanks.”

“...”

You tried to get up to hit the emergency button, but his hands were immovable. “Is something wrong?” you asked.

“Why do you keep avoiding me?”

What do you think, you father-killing gangster?! Plus, who wants to eat breakfast time with a fling? “Avoiding is…” You paused and reconsidered your word choice. Gitae Kim (or any of the Kim men for that matter) was not known for his brains, but he wasn’t an idiot. You were both adults so there was no reason to skirt around the issue like a lovesick highschooler.

You explained: “I didn’t mean to offend you, but as I have said before, neither of us are looking for anything serious. I don’t see the point in making things awkward by forcing us to act friendly when we can just be strangers. Two passing ships in the night, as they say.”

“...”

He was surprisingly untalkative today.

Then he replied, “That still doesn’t explain why you’re avoiding me.”

You take it back. Gitae Kim is an idiot. 

Keeping your calm, you continued, “I doubt you’re interested in a platonic relationship so there’s really no reason for us to spend time together.”

His hands move from your arms to your waist. “Maybe we don’t want a serious relationship, but why should that stop us from having fun?”

Ah, yes. Friends with benefits (minus the friendship). You’ve had similar arrangements in the past, with classmates and co-workers; it was safer than flings with complete strangers. Most of them worked out, a few ended disastrously. But that’s a story for another day.

You scanned Gitae’s form. Strong jaw, big nose. Wide shoulders, perfect for grabbing. A rock-hard torso that tapered down to a slender waist. Thick thighs that were begging to be straddled…

You shook your head. “Nope. Sorry. I think one night is enough for me.” You already rode this dragon and you reminded yourself that Gitae Kim looked more delicious than he tasted. Size wasn’t everything. Actually, it was difficult to have fun when he was so needlessly huge.

But… you stole a glimpse of the bulge straining under his jeans. 

You gulped.

…with enough preparation and sufficient training, he would be perfect…

Calloused fingers snuck under your blouse, dancing over the clasp of your bra. 

Gitae was smirking. “Your thoughts are written all over your face.”

His warm hands on your bare skin was the wake up call you needed.

You smacked his arms away. “Are you insane? You realize we’re in an elevator, don’t you? There’s a camera and—shit, I forgot to hit the button!” 

“Don’t worry, I did it while you were ogling my thighs.”

“I wasn’t ogling you, asshole—!”

He cupped your face with one hand. God, he had large hands.

“W-what?” 

He gave you a small smile. “You’re finally looking at me.”

“???”

“Who is James Lee to you?”

You thought for a moment before answering, “My fiancé.”

“...”

“If I tell you that, would you believe me?”

He looked at you and then he scoffed, “Ha. Not one bit.”

“Good, because he’s not. Anyway, our…I guess our ‘relationship’ is a long story, one that would bore you to tears so if you want to hear about it, go pester DG.” You glared at him even harder. “Now, would you kindly let me go? Your hand smells like potato chips.”

He freed you just as the elevator started up again.

You grabbed your mirror and a wet wipe from your purse.

Gitae Kim quietly watched you dab your face. 

You stared at his reflection, and, after a few more seconds of silence, found yourself speaking again, “You really do look a lot like him.”

That stone face cracked at the mention of his father.

You looked over your shoulder and met his wide eyes. “Though you’re definitely taller.”

The elevator slowed and you faced forward again.

Gitae chuckled.

The door slid open.

You pulled on your luggage, but Gitae snatched it from you. 

“What are you doing?”

“You’re going to the convenience store, right? I’ll walk you there. I need a smoke.”

It felt like he added the last part when he saw you about to say no. Maybe he did, but you didn’t care.

Against your better judgment, you thanked him.

After ten minutes of the manager bowing and apologizing for the incident with the elevator (it would have been much longer if not for Gitae making it clear that he wanted to leave), she let you and Gitae go with a complementary fruit basket and a buttload of gift cards for any beauty product associated with their spa. 

When you arrived at the 7-Eleven, Gitae stayed seated with you inside.

“I thought you were gonna smoke.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Fine. Stay here and watch my stuff.”

You disappeared and then returned with two cups of coffee. “Here.”

“...”

“Do you want cream or sugar?” 

“...it feels odd seeing you be nice to me for real.”

You guess your acting during breakfast wasn’t as stellar as you thought. “Shut up and drink.”

“Ah. Much better.”

The veins in your forehead throbbed. 

Gitae watched you take a sip before he asked, “So, why sixty-eight pesos?”[1]

“You remember that, huh?”

“Kind of hard to forget. I figured a night with me should at least be ten million US dollars.”

“I’m almost jealous of your confidence.” It was almost as megalomaniac-sized as DG’s. 

“Well?”

You took another sip and said, “I was one peso short.”

“Are...are you serious?”

You shook your head. “It was my rating for the night. Six point eight.”

“Out of ten?”

You didn’t answer.

He snorted. “You’re a funny girl.”

“I know.”

He started his coffee, which was sweeter than he usually took. But he saw your satisfied expression and kept drinking.

After a whole minute of undisturbed peace, he asked, in a hesitant tone that felt unbefitting of the Gitae Kim, “What was he like? I mean, with you?”

“He was annoying.”

“Pfft.” 

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. I just…I didn’t expect someone like you to describe him like that.”

“Someone like what, exactly?”

He looked up in thought and then back at you. “Someone normal. Didn’t you say he was your benefactor?”

“Yeah. He forge—I mean, he helped me settle here, in South Korea. I didn’t know the language, I had no money, no connections. Gapryong Kim paid for my schooling and found me a home.”

“Doesn’t sound like a man you would call ‘annoying.’”

You shrugged. “It’s not like he did all those things out of the goodness of his heart. It was payment.”

“Payment?”

“I found one of his men on the streets. There was a gang fight and he was badly injured.”

“What, did you perform CPR on him or something?”

“...yeah, something like that.” It was an emergency thoracostomy.[2] The man had a collapsed lung. But a thoracostomy was an advanced medical procedure that you learned from your first life, one reserved for doctors and something a child had no business performing. 

“Anyway,” you said, changing the subject, “when Gapryong-nim asked how he could repay me, I asked for his help. I told him he couldn’t put a price on a person’s life and a decade of raising me was nothing.”

Gitae let out a sound of amusement. 

“I was busy studying so I rarely saw him, but when I did he kept feeding me and he always sent me new clothes.”

“...how is that annoying?” Your listener sounded almost jealous.

Well, it wasn’t like you didn’t understand. You must have seemed like a complete brat right now.

“It was annoying because it felt like he was trying to use me. Not in a gross way—” you reassured Gitae, who looked ready to punch the table “—he was a man desperately repenting.[5] Whenever he looked at me, I could tell that he didn’t see me, but someone else. It’s weird. I don’t know how else to put it. I guess it’s kinda confusing, huh?”

“A little.”

“Right?” You laughed. “He was annoying to be around, and he was a notorious womanizer despite being married. But…I didn’t dislike him. That’s why I wish I could’ve been by his side when he died.”

You raised the paper cup to your lips, pretending not to notice how his breath hitched. “Maybe I could’ve done something to save him.”

“No.”

You turned to Gitae. He was staring down his coffee. 

“I don’t think you could have done anything,” he said.

You tried to lighten the mood so you rolled your eyes. “Gee, thanks.” You tried to sound insulted. “Did you forget that I saved your ass once?”

“I meant—”

The Imperial March blasted from your phone.

“What the hell is that?”

You checked the caller ID. “It’s my brother.” DG must have messed with your ringtone again.

“Hello?”

“Nee-san, I’m outside the store. Where are you?”

“I see your car. Hold on, I’ll be right out.” You hung up.

Gitae was already on his feet, holding your luggage and the basket. “I’ll walk you there.”

“You really don’t have to.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe you can carry these things?”

He didn’t wait for your reply. He went straight outside.

You died before Lookism ended so you have no clue who would win between Gitae Kim and your brother. But you were sure that it wouldn’t be quick and bloodless.

“Wait!”

You chased after him, but it was too late. 

Your brother stood a few feet from the entrance and Gitae already stepped out the door.

“Gun!” You stepped between them. “Why did you get out of the car?”

“I…was going to grab your luggage…” His black eyes fell on the bag—your bag, which Gitae was carrying.

These two battle freaks were sizing each other up.

“Aw, that’s sweet of you! We should probably go—”

“Gitae Kim,” Gun whispered, “why the hell are you with my sister?”

“Oh, Gun, don’t be rude, sweetie.” You hurried to his side and hooked your arm around his. He wouldn’t throw a punch while you were hugging him.

…right?

“Y-you wouldn’t believe what happened back in the resort. Gitae and I got stuck in an elevator. How hilarious is that?”

Gun’s muscles tightened and you coughed. 

In retrospect, mentioning how you were alone with Gitae Kim wasn’t the brightest move.

“That is hilarious. Lol.” Goo appeared beside you, hands in his pockets and looking like he stumbled into a goldmine.

“Goo?”

“Sup, angel. Looks like you… ‘made a new friend,’ amirite, Gun?” He then cackled. There was no way they didn’t know Gitae’s reputation with women.

He was instigating your brother.

“Gun, I do have work tomorrow so can we—”

Gitae Kim, who was staying still this whole time, finally stepped forward.

Gun gently pushed you backward, preparing to fight.

But instead of throwing a punch, Gitae merely pushed the basket and bag towards him.

“You heard her, she has work tomorrow. Better get moving.”

Taking this chance, you grabbed the basket and shoved it into Goo’s arms, then you took your back and held Gun’s hand.

“Thank you, Mister Kim.” You did your best to sound as formal and distant as possible.

You then dragged your brother back to the car.

Once Gun settled in the driver’s seat, you could finally breathe.

Goo observed your reflection on the rearview mirror. “This has to be the first time I’ve seen anyone more stressed than ever after a free spa trip.”

“...just…” You closed your eyes. “Let’s just go home.”

—thankfully, neither Gun nor Goo asked you about DG or Gitae Kim. 

You expected your brother to react childishly to the whole ordeal, so you didn’t mind his pouting. Frankly, you were grateful for any reaction that didn’t involve violence (living in this world has severely impacted your standards for how men should express themselves). However, Goo was  strangely silent during the car ride and he didn’t stay the night like he usually did.

You rolled onto your belly, your cheek hitting the linen. 

You really wished the weekend had a third day so you could decompress.

“...maybe I should call in sick today.”

“That’s an idea.”

“What the—!?”

Goo Kim was standing over the cot, beaming. 

“Hope you don’t mind, I picked your lock.” He thumbed at the door. “That’s a lie. I just sliced that thing, you know, that metal thingy that keeps it locked.”[3]

“You’re paying for that.”

“Relax, just tell the principal that someone broke in—”

“You did”

“—since this place has insurance. But enough boring talk, let’s go play hooky.”

“Ta-da!” Goo removed your blindfold. 

After some back and forth, you let yourself be dragged to Goo Kim’s “hideout.” It was what you expected Gun’s condo to look like: sleek lines, leather and wood furniture, the latest toys, loads of junk food and alcohol; the ultimate bachelor pad.

“Wow.”

“Is she gorgeous or is she gorgeous?”

“I’d whistle if I could.”

Goo boasted that it was exclusive to “his people,” which included you now, apparently.

You two started with a friendly game of scram.[4]

You won the first four rounds, though you had a feeling Goo kept losing on purpose. He slipped, tripped and missed way too many times for it to just be “bad luck.” 

You didn’t mind; winning was winning, after all. 

And it was…sweet.

You two agreed on a break and Goo ordered buffalo wings, nachos and iced tea.

“See, isn’t this better than rotting at home with that doberman breathing down your neck every two seconds?”

“Gun’s not that bad.” You offered him some wet wipes.

“You need to be firmer with that brother of yours. Don’t you feel bad for your future boyfriend slash husband? I’m pretty sure Gun’s going to live with you guys until the day he dies.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not.” Goo cleaned his hands, already feeling sorry for the future version of you. 

He imagined what Gun’s face would look like when you announce that you were dating, and then what he would look like when you declare your engagement. For a split second, Goo snickered at the thought of your future husband peeing himself in front of Gun. 

A normal guy should be the perfect match for you. You lived in the light while your brother, Goo and everyone else in their circle belonged in the shadows. But at the same time, Goo couldn’t help but think that an ordinary bastard had no right to stand beside you.

You were a civilian. You couldn’t fight. You were Gun Park’s Achilles heel. 

But you were smart, funny and mature, and undeniably cute. You deserved a hella lot more than some Plain Jane salaryman, who would never appreciate you.

“Goo?” You were waving your hand in front of him. “Earth to Goo.”

“Huh?”

“You said you wanted to play a videogame after darts.  I don’t like racing so can we do a fighting game?”

He stared at your face. 

“Hello, space cadet?”

“Hm? Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“...is it really okay for me to be here?”

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if it wasn’t.”

“Cool.” You got up and walked over to his videogame collection. “Fascinating, so you have them separated by genre then arranged alphabetically…”

You were rambling—praising his organizing system. 

For once, he was pleased to hear someone talk more than he was. You didn’t have a melodious or even notable voice; like many parts of you, your voice was adorably average, but Goo found himself loving every word that left your mouth.

You returned with Tekken 6. 

Goo clapped. “Excellent choice.”

“An oldie but goodie.”

After three rounds, you sighed and paused the game. “Goo, you don’t have to let me win.”

“You don’t like winning?”

“It was fun the first few times but now it just feels insulting. I’m fine with you kicking my butt, I’m not a sore loser like my brother.”

He snorted. “He says the same thing about you whenever we play anything. Of course, I never let him win.” Gun sucked at fighting games, which was something Goo liked to remind him. 

“I’m flattered,” you said flatly. “I’m changing my character.”

“Dibs on Lili.”

“You’re already Lili.”

“Well, dibs anyway. I don’t want us playing the same character.”

“Why not?”

“House rules.” One that he made up on the spot.

You laughed and he was happy with his decision.

“Okay, okay. I’ll get Jin.”

A karate practitioner. You originally chose Kazuya, Jin's father and another karate master. Did you choose these men because they reminded you of your brother? If so then…well, maybe Gun wasn’t the only strange one in this relationship.

But then, he remembered that Jin was an illegitimate child. 

“Hey…” Goo drawled. 

You hummed in reply, too focused on the screen.

“Uh…” For the first time in forever, Goo Kim wasn’t sure how to bring up a topic. 

“What is it?”

“How do you know that guy?”

“A name would narrow it down, thanks.”

He coughed, “Gitae Kim.”

Your hands twitched but you kept playing. “He’s just some guy I know.”

“He seemed to like you enough. You guys friends?”

“We’re not that close.” You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “But you seem to know him.”

“I guess you can say we work in the same field.”

He watched you closely and you seemed to accept his explanation. 

“But,” he said, pausing the game, “you shouldn’t hang around him. That guy’s a loose cannon.”

“Worse than you?”

“No one’s worse than me.” He winked.

You laughed again, the sound tickling his chest. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You put a hand over his.

He looked up; your exhausted features have softened into a small, lovely smile. 

“I mean it, Goo. Thank you.”

“...don’t mention it.”

You let go. “One more?”

“Yeah. Actually, wait.” He put down his controller. “Let me turn on the AC.”

He didn’t wait for you to respond as he shot up to his feet.

He clenched and unclenched his hand. 

It was uncomfortably warm today.

Diego Kang’s personal assistant was getting worried.

Her boss had been locked in his study ever since he returned early from the spa. That was thirty-one hours ago.

Diego was the ideal employer. He paid more than the industry average, he had a strict policy on schedules so zero overtime, and he never raised his voice. Plus, DG always kept his composure. If there was a moment where he felt irritated, the world would have no way of knowing. 

Unfortunately, DG was in a peculiar mood today. 

He didn’t greet his driver or his PA, he refused to pick up his phone, and he hasn’t left his study in hours.

His assistant steeled herself and knocked on the door. “S-sir? I brought you something to eat. It’s grilled salmon. Y…your manager wanted me to t-t-tell you to stop ignoring his calls.”

No answer.

“Um, if you don’t like salmon, then a-at least have some water and I-I’ll get you something else.”

The PA let out a sigh of relief when she heard movement—his footsteps, followed by the door unlocking.

However, her smile froze when she saw the heavy circles around DG’s eyes.

“Thanks for bringing me dinner. Leave it anywhere.”

“It’s actually breakfast but you’re welcome! I will…!?”

She still hasn’t gotten used to the life of the ultra-rich. Even for a penthouse, the study was bigger than what she expected. But that wasn’t what caught her off guard—

Dozens of tiny velvet boxes littered the space. 

Rings. 

DG wore jewelry, so this shouldn’t be a baffling revelation, except these weren’t any old accessories. These were glittering, sparkling, bankruptcy-inducing engagement rings. 

The PA recognized household names like Cartier and Tiffany, but there were also brands reserved only for the one percent like Boucheron and Harry Winston. There must have been at least three rings per brand. Any one of these rings cost more than what the PA could ever hope to save in a lifetime.

“Leave it anywhere,” DG repeated from his seat. He said it so casually, like there weren’t diamonds and sapphires on every surface of his office.

DG didn’t seem concerned that she might steal one of the rings (not that she would). He was bent over his desk, scribbling—no, drawing.

Thinking “what the hey,” his assistant brought the tray over to his side and she discretely (well, she tried) snuck a peek over his shoulder.

“Sir…”

“Thank you. You can take the rest of the night off.”

She was about to inform him that it was morning and the manager would be pissed, but DG’s tone left no room for protest, so the PA bowed and left.

As she got onto the elevator, she thought about DG’s waste bin. It overflowed with crumpled pieces of paper. She wondered if they contained the same thing he was furiously sketching on his desk: wedding bands.

Gitae Kim blew out a stream of smoke.

He hadn’t heard of Gun Park until today, and based on his instincts, he could tell that guy was strong. He wanted to fight him right then and there, but when he saw your face as you struggled to separate the two of them, Gitae let it go.

He glanced at the report his men sent him.

“She’s a yakuza princess but she hates violence, that’s gotta be troublesome.” 

As he mumbled these words, your voice—a memory from years ago—echoed in his head: “She kept saying that she failed and blamed me for being born as a girl.”[6]

He sighed and put down the folder.

You weren’t a princess.

He recalled Gun Park’s tranquil fury, Goo Kim’s silent jealousy, and best of all, James Lee’s blatant possessiveness. Gitae grinned and raised his pipe, thinking of the day when he could steal away his Cinderella.

[1] See "Like Water for Chocolate" TLDR: After their one-night stand together, Noona left 68 MXN on the nightstand.

[2] Thoracostomy: an invasive medical procedure wherein a tube is inserted in the patient's pleural space to drain fluid or air.

[3] He's referring to the latch bolt.

[4] Scram is a two-player dart game. During one round, one player is the "stopper" and the other is the "scorer." The goal for the latter is to score as many points as possible before the stopper claims all the numbers.

[5] For new/confused readers, in this series, Noona was originally reborn during the Pre-Generation Era. She died and was reborn again, but she doesn't remember her time with Gapryong Kim and the Yamazakis. Here is a brief summary of the timelines.

[6] See "If I Love You, Beware" TLDR: During pillow talk, Noona told Gitae that her mother (in this world) killed herself because she wanted a son.

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Disclaimer: The images used are screencaptures of Ep. 478, 557, 481 & 519 - Lookism, Webtoon.

My Baby Brother is the Strongest Character Masterlist

Eli

Flirting Style: Smooth, attentive, and giving

Gives you the quiet eye contact and sweet half-smile that melts panties

Lowkey flexes how good he is with kids (“Yenna made you a drawing… I helped her, but don’t tell her I said that”)

Will say “you’re beautiful” once, then act like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing because

His love language is offering you food and asking how your day was with full attention and active listening.

Protective but not overbearing. Will bodyblock a falling shelf and act like it’s just another Tuesday.

Bonus: If you touch his arm while laughing? Play with his hair? Be a good presence in Yenna’s life? Game over. He’s yours.

Gun

Flirting Style: Intense eye contact and threats that sound like proposals

“I don’t need a partner. I need someone who can keep up.” (Translation: I want you.)

Doesn’t smile, but you know when he’s into you because he starts looking at you like you’re prey, and HE IS STARVING.

Gifts you things that don’t feel romantic… until you realize no one else gets them. Like a new phone. Or a whole ass penthouse (to act grown in).

“You need discipline” - he’ll say after fixing your form at the gym, his hands lingering longer than necessary.

Bonus: He purposely loses at video games he’s previously beaten. Not because he can’t win, but because your grin when you win is more satisfying than victory.

Goo

Flirting Style: Chaos and catcalling, but make it charming

Will call you every nickname in the book. “Sugar tits,” “baby shark,”or “wifey” - he’s def testing which one makes you react.

Pulls pranks just to hear you laugh… or scream. Either works for him.

Gets jealous easily but pretends it’s a joke (“Oh, he looked at you? I’ll murder him, Y/N. kidding! Unless…”)

If he’s quiet for longer than 10 seconds around you, it means he’s either in love or planning something stupid. Or both.

Bonus: He’ll flirt with everyone to throw you off. But only you get the soft, sleepy Goo voice at 3AM.

James Lee / Diego Kang

Flirting Style: Elegant, detached… until you touch him.

Doesn’t flirt traditionally. He just shows up, stares at you from across the room, and somehow leaves you breathless. (Not too far from canon lol)

Compliments feel like confessions: “You’re a distraction. And I hate distractions. But I keep looking at you.”

Will not initiate physical touch, but if you do? He’s not letting go for anything.

Dangerously polite. Opens doors, holds your coat, corrects your form at the private gym he booked for just the two of you. You’ll think he’s just being nice until he says something like - “I dreamt about you...again”

Bonus: One kiss and he starts spiraling privately. He’ll still act cool. He’s not lol

Ryuhei Kuroda

Flirting Style: Bully-to-lover with unhinged fixation energy

Constantly bothers you. Flicks your hair. Steals your pen. Won’t stop poking your buttons.

“Dumbass. You’re too cute when you’re mad.”

Treats you like a game until the moment someone else flirts with you, then it’s not a game anymore.

You get under his skin in ways he hates. And craves. He’d rather eat nails than admit he’s blushing.

Bonus: He’ll fake-disgusted moan if you touch him - “Ew, you’re touching me? Are we dating now or something?” (he hopes yes)

Hudson

Flirting Style: Gentle loyalty with hints of angst

He watches you with sharp eyes but speaks softly. He doesn’t talk much but when he does, it’s only to you. He also never brings up his street life because he thinks it’ll ruin how you see him (it won’t lol)

“Need anything?” - sounds sooo casual, but it means he’s already halfway to solving your problems before you finish answering.

The kind to memorize your favorite snacks, the exact way you like your tea, your allergies. Acts like it’s no big deal. (He gives your snack choices +100 points even if he doesn’t like them)

Protective as hell. If you so much as stub your toe, he’s ready to declare war on gravity.

Bonus: When he finally touches you, it’s hesitant and reverent—like you’re sacred. His ears might go red.

“Let me,” he growls softly, his grip tightening as if he’s about to flip you over, take control like he always does. But you shake your head, pressing your palms against his chest, holding him down with a firm but gentle pressure. 

“Not tonight,” you say, your voice soft but insistent, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat under your fingers. “Tonight, you don’t get to be in charge.”

His eyes narrow, a flicker of frustration flashing across his face, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t fight you—not yet. He’s too curious, too caught off guard by the way you’re looking at him, with a calm determination that he’s not used to. He doesn’t let go of your hips; his fingers dig into your skin, and you can feel the tension thrumming through him, the desire to flip the script, to take you down and make you beg for him.

“Just let me take care of you,” you murmur, leaning down to brush your lips over his, the kiss soft, lingering. You feel his body shudder beneath you, the barest hint of surrender, but he still watches you warily, as if he’s not sure he can trust himself to let go.

Slowly, you start to move, your hips moving against him, taking him inside you inch by inch. His breath hitches, and his sharp, predatory focus giving way to something softer. His hands twitch against your waist, but he stays where he is, allowing you to set the pace.

“Just relax, handsome," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you move, slow and unhurried, letting him feel every inch of the sweet walls of your pussy.

He makes a low, frustrated sound, his hands tightening again as if he’s about to take over, but you press him back down. Your fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him subtly gasp. “No,” you insist gently, but firmly. “You get to relax tonight. Relax.” You put emphasis on the last word.

He looks up at you, his breathing ragged, and you can see the war in his eyes—wanting to give in, but hating how exposed it makes him feel. But he doesn’t fight you, doesn’t try to take back control, and there’s something almost desperate in the way he watches you, as if he’s never felt this kind of weakness before. It's almost like he's turning into putty in your hands.

As you move, your pace quickening, you can feel the tension in him slowly unraveling. His fingers loosening their grip on your waist, his head falling back, exposing the column of his throat. God, the way your pussy just squeezed the life out of his cock felt good, he wouldn't admit it but letting you set the pace for once felt good.

You lean down, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, his neck, savoring the rare moment of intimacy as his body begins to respond to yours, his hips lifting to meet your movements.

“You’re doing so well,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear, and he shudders, his eyes fluttering shut as if he can’t bear to look at you while he’s like this—laid bare, completely exposed. There’s a rawness in the way he grips your thighs, his fingers trembling just slightly as he gives himself over to the moment, letting you take him to the edge.

Every sound he makes—every low, breathy moan, every ragged gasp—feels like a victory, each one more desperate than the last as he lets go of the control he’s always held so tightly. His muscles are tense beneath you, his breath hot and uneven as he watches you through half-lidded eyes, his jaw clenched with the effort of keeping himself in check.

Your words are soft, soothing, and you can see the way they hit him, the way his breath catches as he looks up at you, his gaze suddenly raw and open in a way you’ve never seen before. His hands slide up to your back, holding you close, and you can feel the way he trembles—just a little, just enough to let you know that you’ve cracked that icy exterior.

His moans grow just a tad bit louder, his control slipping further with each roll of your hips, his breaths coming faster, rougher. You feel his hips move up into you to try and meet your hips, his eyes squeezing shut, his grip on you tightening as he lets you take him apart piece by piece until he’s gasping your name, lost in a pleasure he can’t control.

When he finally shudders and falls apart beneath you, his seed painting your insides white, there’s no pretense left—just raw, unguarded emotion, his eyes glazed and unfocused, his body spent.

You stay like that for a moment, catching your breath, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath yours. He looks up at you, and for a second, you see the barest hint of a smile before he pulls you down into a fierce, hungry kiss, as if to reclaim some of the power he’d let slip away.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s okay with that.

ᯓ★—GOO

Goo should’ve known better. Maybe he wouldn’t have said yes if he’d realized things would end up here, or perhaps if he’d actually taken you seriously, the consequences wouldn’t have been so... brutal.

It started with a simple request—you wanted to switch things up in the bedroom. He laughed, entertained the thought, but never let you follow through, always brushing it off with a smirk and a smug, “Next time.” So, this time, you decided to make sure he’d regret that.

You pushed him down onto the bed, capturing his mouth in a fierce kiss, and before he knew it, he heard it—the click of handcuffs locking his wrists above his head. His eyes widened as you pulled back, a sly smile playing on your lips.

“Alright then,” he chuckled, half-disbelieving. A playful, cocky grin spreading across his face. “Let’s see what you got, boss.”

You straddled his hips with an intensity that made that cockiness of his falter. For just a second, you caught that slight drop in his expression. “Stay,” you ordered, voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

He chuckled again, but there was a faint trace of uncertainty there now, a sliver of something almost like nerves.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” he mocked, but it sounded hollow, his confidence starting to crack.

You leaned close, your breath warm against his ear. “I mean it, Goo. You move, and this stops. Understand?”

You felt his body tense beneath you, the slightest catch in his breathing. He laughed, but it was softer, less certain. “O–Okay, whatever you say, sugar,” he muttered, voice slipping as he started to take you just a little more seriously.

You rewarded him with a slow, deliberate grind against his cock, feeling it harden beneath you as his breath hitched, his fingers twitching above his head, clearly aching to grab you but unable to.

“You’re gonna listen, right?” you teased, voice low, testing just how far you could push him.

“Yes,” he replied, but it wasn’t steady, the usual cocky edge blunted, replaced with a hint of submission.

“Good,” you murmured. You could feel the tension in his arms as he strained against the cuffs, testing his restraints but holding back, for now.

He could feel his cock twitching to be inside of you, but he could do nothing but watch as you grinded on his length. That smirk of his was slipping fast, the usual swagger replaced with something far more vulnerable.

“Still think this is funny?” you asked, pressing your hands down on his chest, pinning him harder. His eyes widened, and you watched as a bead of sweat formed on his brow, his cock pressing harder against you as he looked up, flushed, defiant, but beginning to crack.

Oh, who was he kidding? You looked so fucking hot like this. His dick was only getting harder by the second.

“N–No,” he admitted, voice breathy. He licked his lips, gaze locked on yours, his arrogance unraveling with each passing second.

You leaned in, slowly grinding on him. Each touch, each kiss was a slow burn, drawing out every last bit of his restraint. He started off with cocky retorts, but the longer you teased, denying him even the slightest touch, the more his smug façade crumbled.

His breath came in sharp gasps, smirks turning into bitten-back moans when you finally sank down onto his cock—agonizingly slow at that—and when he tried to lift his head to capture your lips, you pulled back, keeping him right on the edge.

Goo couldn’t handle this. Just when he thought you’d finally give him some release, you went completely still on top of him. No, no, he’d hold out—you’d move sooner or later, right?

But you didn’t. And now he was starting to feel cornered, his body aching for you to move. The way your cunt would give his dick a squeeze every now and then, the stillness so torturous he thought he might lose it.

“Please,” he murmured, voice stripped of all bravado, replaced with genuine need. His hips bucked against yours, wrists pulling desperately at the cuffs, eyes wide and pleading.

“What was that?” you asked, pretending not to hear, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, a teasing glint in your eyes.

“P-Please,” he repeated, louder this time, voice breaking, his face flushed as he looked up, wild-eyed and almost desperate. “Fuck, I—need you—”

You smirked, leaning down until your lips brushed against his, voice dipping into a low, teasing whisper. “Oh, now you’re begging? I thought you were the one in control.”

He let out a broken groan, head falling back as he tugged at the cuffs, his usual arrogance shattered. “Please,” he said again, voice raw, the word slipping out like a whimper, leaving him exposed to you.

You couldn’t help but grin, a thrill running through you as you saw him so undone, so needy—all because of you.

“Well,” you murmured, finally granting him a slow movement of your hips. The friction drawing a deep, shuddering moan from him. “Maybe I’ll give you what you want...as long as you keep being a good boy for me. Can you do that for me?” you purr at a tone that's so sweet yet razzing.

“Yes, yes-” he gasped, trembling beneath you, wide, desperate eyes locked onto yours, no trace of his usual swagger left. “I’ll be good. I promise. Just—please, just fuckin’ move.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” You ask, lifting an eyebrow at him with a small pout. He immediately shakes his head, “N–No, sugar, ‘m sorry–I just-”

Oh this was just too amusing.

ᯓ★—DG

Diego Kang, the level headed man. The one man circle, the legend of the first generation…the titles he’s earned could go on and on. Always exuding that calm confidence, that unshakable aura. But tonight, that was exactly what you aimed to break.

After all, he was still a man, wasn't he?

Your little movie date night with him is long forgotten by you as you shift closer, slipping your hand under the blanket, trailing your fingers over his thigh. You catch the briefest flicker of his eyes down to you, a faint question there, but he says nothing. Unfazed, as always.

Yet you don’t stop. Your hand slides further, pressing just a little harder, and when your fingers graze his cock through his sweats, you feel him tense ever so slightly. He doesn’t say a word, but there’s a slight exhale, barely audible, as he shifts in his seat.

You pull it out, touch feather-light as you ran your hand over the length of his cock, only teasing at first. He didn’t flinch, only looked down at you with that calm, unreadable gaze of his, like he was trying to figure out what game you were playing.

“You’re not going to get to me,” he murmured, that calm, even tone never wavering.

You smirked, looking up at him. “Is that so?”

Leaning forward, you wrapped your fingers around his cock, giving it a slow, torturous stroke from base to tip. He let out a measured breath, eyes narrowing as he tried to keep his expression neutral.

“Mmhm,” he replied, but there was the faintest tremor in his voice, just barely enough to let you know you were getting to him, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Slowly, you ran your thumb over his slit, feeling his body tense under your touch. His jaw clenched, but he kept his eyes locked on the screen, refusing to let you see him slip.

“Nothing to say, hm?” you teased, keeping your strokes excruciatingly slow, keeping him right on the edge, but never giving him enough to tip over. The way your hand feels around his dick has him wanting more. More than this.

He could just imagine your pretty little lips wrapped around his thick cock or maybe even better—him sinking every single inch of him into you. He bites his lip, hands flexing at his sides.

It makes him swallow hard, adam’s apple bobbing as he forces himself to stay in control. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he replied, his voice tight but still steady.

Your fingers moved faster, stroking him with a little more pressure, watching his resolve waver, bit by bit. His breath hitched, his eyelids fluttering just slightly as he fought to keep his composure.

“Oh? So you don’t mind if I just… keep you here like this?” you murmured, voice laced with a teasing sweetness as you slowed your strokes, edging him right up to that breaking point before pulling back again.

His lips parted, and for a split second, you saw it—the faintest flicker of frustration in his eyes, a crack in that calm exterior. He let out a shaky breath, biting down on the inside of his cheek, clearly still fighting to stay composed.

“That’s... fine,” he managed, but his voice was strained, his hands clenching into fists at his sides now.

With a smirk, you leaned in, pressing your lips against his neck, littering the space with slow kisses. “I don’t think you can handle it,” you whispered against his skin. “In fact, I think you’re going to beg.”

His body tensed, and his breathing quickened, but he still wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of breaking. “I won’t,” he replied, though his voice had grown softer, barely above a whisper.

You laughed softly, moving your hand with a firmer stroke, watching as his cool demeanor slowly melted away, replaced by the raw need he could no longer hide.

“Let’s see,” you challenged, stroking him just a little faster. His gaze shifts down to his dick, looking furious at the constant denial of release. He could feel the tension build in his body as he struggled to hold onto what was left of his control.

Finally, a low, ragged moan escaped him, and he gave in. Those eyes hazy with desire as he whispered, barely audible, “Please…”

“Didn't hear you,” you teased, slowing your movements to a crawl, dragging out each stroke until he let out another shuddering breath.

“Please,” he repeated, his voice softer, almost pleading. His eyes met yours, the last of his composure slipping away as he gave in

You leaned back, smiling victoriously as he looked at you, expression shattered and vulnerable. It was everything you wanted, and you hadn’t even pushed him all the way over the edge yet.

“See?” you whispered, your fingers ghosting over his cock again, driving him right back to the brink. “I told you you’d beg.”