#jonggun park

“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.

[1] Nomikai: Japanese. Drinking parties held after work, it's not explicitly stated to be mandatory, but you are expected to participate lest you lose chances of a promotion. According to some sources, the boss/company doesn't always foot the bill so not only are required to drink, you're also going to pay.

[2] "He's always messing around. He messes around when he eats. He messes around when he fights. He messes around no matter what weapon he has. He doesn't have a serious bone in his body. But you know, as much as he messes around, there's one time when he gets serious. It's when he's holding a sword." ~ Tom Lee, Lookism Ep. 344

Author's Note: Who needs IRL relationships when I have my delusions with me.

taglist: @ixchelhernandez4, @palekingdomyouth, @placid-plastic, @cocooola, @sugarrushbell, @mizukicidal

If you want to be part of the taglist, please leave a comment on the masterlist so I don't lose track. Thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: The images used do not belong to me. They are screencaptures from Ep. 504 & 271 - Lookism, Webtoon.

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

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.

yamazaki shingen does not get jealous. or at least, that's what he tells himself. jealousy, like any other emotion, is considered a weakness, and a weakness is something his countless foes will immediately grab on to once they catch sight of it, his father always told him.

he had learned to shut off his emotions a long time ago, ever since his embarrassing defeat against the famed gapryong kim from south korea. however he allows himself to have one simple weakness, despite his father and brother's disagreements, and that was you.

his darling, most treasured wife out of the ten women chosen just for him. you beauty shone through the others, and your quick-witted mind and equally sharp tongue was a stark contrast to the other women that only wished to survive in this cold, unfamiliar place.

shingen adored you. he favoured you, and that much was shown when he allowed you to keep your pinky, much to the displeasure of his brother. he gave you a strong and healthy boy with odd eyes, whom you proudly named gun, and treasured with your life.

shingen cherished you, anybody could tell. but do you love him too? this was a six-year question he never got the courage to ask.

which is why he is unsure of what to feel when he secretly follows you and your five year old son out of the compound and to a nearby public playground, and he sees a young boy bashfully coming up to you and showing a bouquet of wildflowers he had collected.

an odd feeling bubbles in his gut as he watches you smile warmly at the boy, patting his head with a gloved hand, gently taking the bouquet, complimenting it as you admired the flowers. nonsense. even shingen could make a better bouquet than that little brat could (he's lying) to give to you.

"what are you doing here?" shingen pauses in his train of thoughts, looking down, only to see his five year old son standing beside him with a blank look on his face, hands in his pockets. he wasn't even looking at the clan leader, merely staring unblinkingly at you in the distance.

the yamazaki head merely grunts, turning back around to watch you interact with the young boy. the little brat was getting bolder and bolder, daring to grab your hands in his grubby little paws and dancing around with you.

the father and son stood by the side, unnervingly identical blank dark eyes glued onto you, watching you interact with the child, and any passerby walking past them would have had to blink and rub their eyes, wondering if they were seeing doubles.

shingen spares a glance down at gun, and feels somewhat amused by how entranced his son was with you. truly, he thinks to himself as he returns his gaze to you. he is truly too much like his father.

he feels that same, odd feeling fluttering in his stomach as he watches the little beast motion for you to lean down, and braves a small peck against your cheek. the kid's face explodes in a fine assortment of red colours as the other children laugh and cheer, clearly entertained by this boy's foolishness. shingen watches as you merely smile at him and ruffle his hair, not saying a word.

to anybody watching, shingen and gun looked the same as before, but if they looked closer – really looked closer, they would see the exact same crease in between their eyebrows as their gazes became sharper, trained onto the boy.

shingen feels disheartened. why was it so simple for a young child you barely knew to kiss you on the cheek? he had been watching you, waiting for the perfect moment to give you a lil smooch, but each time you seemed to read his intentions and kept your distance.

shingen was frustrated. what was he doing wrong?

"MARRY ME!" the impudent little boy suddenly shouts, with flushed cheeks and a makeshift ring, made out of a little daisy he'd found.

immediately, both shingen and gun's head snaps towards him, death threats running through their minds. oh hell no.

meanwhile, you gave the poor, oblivious boy an awkward smile, extremely floored by the situation. poor kid, did he even know what he was getting himself into? by the looks of his expectant expression and hopeful eyes, clearly not. you clear your throat and open your mouth, ready to spout some bullshit, but someone else beats you to it.

"there you are, dear." you jump slightly in surprise as a deep voice murmurs in your ear, thick, strong arms snaking around your waist as your husband magically appears by your side, resting his chin on your collarbone, letting his hot breath fan your skin.

the little boy stares at shingen with a mix of indignation and fear. "w-who are you?!" he stutters out, and you had to admire his courage.

"i'm her husband." was shingen's immediate reply, and your eyes widen slightly to here the subtle pride in his voice.

the boy frowns. "no you're not! i'm gonna marry her, not you!" you sweatdrop slightly as the two males exchange heated looks – well, at least the boy's was heated, shingen looked purely amused, though you swore there was a tinge of annoyance that flashed through his eyes, though you could never telk what was running through that man's mind.

but unfortunately for the boy, he forgot that there was another formidable enemy headed right for them.

"kaa-san, is this shrimp bothering you?" your son smoothly steps in, gaze calm yet predatory as he looks down upon the inferior boy before him.

the little boy's eyes widen in fear as he recognizes gun, as do the children watching them with bated breath. "it's the playground demon!" a girl shrieks, and all the children flee in different directions, screaming their heads off, even your ever-so-valiant pursuer.

you chuckle a little, and sinply offer a loving pat on gun's head, who looks up at you with the same blank look, though your smile widens as you notice a fervent and soft tinge in his eyes as he gazes up at you.

shingen watches the exchange, feeling strangely out of place. he stiffens a little as you turn towards him, a gentle, yet unreading smile on your face.

out of courtesy, shingen wordlessly offers his arm, to which you accept, your other hand holding on to gun's tinier palm as the three of you begin your walk home.

"i noticed you'd followed my son and i here, lord yamazaki." shingen shows no reaction as your clear voice cuts through the awkwardness. he remains quiet for a few seconds, before turning to look down at you straight in the eyes.

"yes," he replies bluntly, and watches as you blink up at him, taken aback, clearly expecting him to dodge the question. your walls quickly rise as they had fallen, and your smile is quickly plastered back on.

"oh my, whatever for?" you chuckle as you continue your journey, and your voice turns teasing. "were you jealous, then? watching that little boy ask for my hand in marriage?"

"yes."

"ah, i expected-" you pause, and turn to stare at him disbelievingly. "...pardon?"

you weren't sure what you were expecting, but it definitely was not for the man beside you to avert his dark eyes, almost in embarrassment, suddenly looking like a kicked puppy. "are you... upset i interrupted?"

"how could i ever be?" and it's shingen's turn to be taken aback at how soft and genuine you sounded, it almost made him flinch in shock. "you are... my husband." you say quietly, ears tinged red.

a few more seconds of awkward silence pass, before the little gremlin decided to interrupt. "kaa-san, can you carry me?" gun asks blankly, stopping to raise his arms in your direction.

you smile, immediately taking your hand out of shingen's grasp, and the yamazaki clan leader is left with an unexplicable void in his heart as he watches you lift your child in your arms, smiling fondly at him as you continued walking.

suddenly, you stop and whirl around, smiling at shingen. and he realizes, with a start, that this was the first genuine smile he has ever received from you. and he loved it.

"it seems i have been neglecting my marital duties as a wife to my lovely husband," you hum, almost teasingly, a suggestive glint in your eyes. "i shall be visiting your bedchambers tonight, lord yamazaki."

warmth spreads through shingen's chest, and he allows the slightest of smiles to creep onto his face.

"i would love that too... my wife." and he takes a step, then another, and another, until he was directly in front of you. you beam up at him, and your little family walks home together.

yamazaki shingen loves you, and he's willing to wait however long needs be and make a fool of himself as many times as he has to for you to smile like that at him once more.

extra:

"kaa-san, i was jealous that little imbecile asked to marry you just now. can you visit my bedchambers too?" gun suddenly questions, and you let out a small laugh at his funny request.

"silly boy, i do that every night." you hum in amusement, gently tapping his nose as you spoke.

"kaa-san, i meant you should visit my bedchambers and not my father's."

"..." you sweatdrop as the father and son exchange blank looks that conveyed malicious threats and murderous intent.

But you’re focused on the dog. The dog, not the man. Because the dog is lunging, and the man is there, and you’re out of options.

“Can you- uh- can you maybe scare that thing away?” you ask, pointing at the dog, voice pitching up embarrassingly high. “I think I accidentally offended it.”

There’s a pause.

A long one.

Gun Park doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. He just shifts his weight slightly, turns his face towards the growling dog, and the thing immediately backs off like it just saw the grim reaper.

You exhale. Loudly. Maybe a little dramatically.

“Whoa. That worked.”

The dog bolts down the alley and disappears. You place one of your hands at the back of your neck, heart still hammering.

Then you look at Gun.

And this is where a normal person might shrink under the weight of his presence. The kind of presence that feels like a blade under your skin, like something sharp that doesn’t cut yet, but could. The kind of guy you cross the street to avoid, just in case.

But you just blink up at him and say:

“Sorry for bothering you. And thanks a lot, man!”

He doesn’t respond.

“Okay... have a nice day... then..?"

And you walk away. Like nothing happened. Like you didn’t just ask one of the most dangerous men in Korea to do you a favor like it was a casual Monday.

Gun watches you go, still and unreadable.

You didn’t even flinch.