#also i just finished solitaire and it was soo good

[riley-nobody]

Fucking love Alice Oseman because when i talked about being asexual to one of my classmates their immediate questions was “oh so like Tori?” And in that moment was the first time where i didn’t need to explain my identity and just be understood in a non boundary pushing uncomfortable way. Representation matters so much and it genuinely almost made me cry

[plumblackjeon]

Ares (Pt. 1)

boxer!Jungkook x Reader Genre: Smut/Angst Word Count: 5004 Warnings: 18+ Perverse sex, drug use, minor character death, stripping, prostitution (for now)

Jungkook is from a poor, working-class family. He is the best boxer in their little town. This story explores his life - hardships, love, hate, sex, death, and all the vices life has to offer. 

Just so there’s no confusion, this story is inspired by my own fic from ao3. Also, please let me know what you think - your feedback is really important to me!

A too familiar morning.

He is out before 6 AM and it’s too cold for his denim jacket to keep him warm. He frowns in the cold air, letting out a shaky breath, as his bag keeps sliding off of his shoulder. The sky is really dark today, completely covered by the huge black clouds, which will surely bring rain later during the day.

It’s so quiet, that the only thing he hears is the slight rustling of the leaves, being carried away by the autumn wind. As he nears the gymnasium, he sees a flock of birds flying over the old building. A couple of steps more and he’ll finally feel warm – after he pushes the hard entrance doors. As soon as they close behind him, the loud sounds of the birds disappear – and he doesn’t even know that this is the last time he’ll hear them.

He inhales the all too familiar smell – the smell of an early morning, the smell of rubber mats they train on, the smell of freshly greased training equipment.

 And this is what he lives for.

 His shoes are too tight and worn out, but his mother won’t afford a new pair any time soon.

He is here before the other guys, and his workout doesn’t stop until his entire body is covered in sweat. When he finishes, he still has 20 minutes before the training starts. The lights are still off and the color of the trees is accentuated by the gloomy weather, illuminating the entire hall with a greenish blue light.

 A muffled melody breaks the silence and he searches through his bag to find his phone. The corner of his lips turns upwards before he even opens the message. And there, on the broken display, is a “I wasn’t able to fall asleep when you left...” and a video.

 His footsteps are echoing through the hall as he walks towards the bathroom stalls, holding the phone in his hand and waiting for the video to download. He throws his bag onto the pale blue tiles and enters one of the stalls. The video finally downloads and he presses play.

Jungkook instantly recognizes his silver necklace, hitting him in the chest, as he thrusts at a fast pace – his forearms bulging in the video, as he focuses on holding himself up. Shy whimpers can be heard behind the camera, together with the squeaking bed and ragged breathing. “You like that? Like when I fuck you like that, huh?” He was barely able to finish the sentence, breathing hard in between each word – his voice always stern and rough when he fucks.

He replays the video one more time, precome oozing out of his tip, when he receives another message. He downloads the second video, and plays it after a couple of seconds.

He squeezes his cock over the thick material of his tracksuit, biting into his lip at the feeling and slightly groaning in frustration – he still has about 15 minutes before the training starts – but the smash of the heavy entrance doors closing brings him back to reality and he turns off his phone.

It’s the coach – he always comes here before the other guys, just to set up everything for the training. Jungkook exits the bathroom and walks towards the main hall.

“Did you have a good warm-up,” the coach asks Jungkook, throwing the heavy bags he was carrying onto the rubber mats.

Jungkook looks at him, still breathing hard from his workout and he replies, “not bad.”

That’s the only thing he says – he doesn’t even shrug. There’s no unnecessary body movement when he speaks. His answers are very concise – straight to the point. He doesn’t smile just to make the other person feel more comfortable. He doesn’t ask meaningless questions just for the sake of being polite, like “How have you been? How was your day? I heard you transferred to a new company, how do you like it there?” He doesn’t ask if he’s not genuinely interested – he doesn’t pretend. And he doesn’t understand why other people do that.

His short answer makes the coach feel a little bit uncomfortable, and so he asks another question under pressure, just to break the nerve-racking silence, “How’s everything at home?”

This time, Jungkook actually shrugs, because the situation at home has never been worse, and so he needs a little bit of time to come up with a lie, “fine,” he frowns a bit, his lips curving downwards and he shrugs again, “the usual.”

The coach looks at him, with some suspicion, but decides against prying any further, and so he starts talking about boxing, “so, we’re starting 1 on 1 training tomorrow, and I want you to be here at 5 am. We’re aiming for the finals now, because you’re the only one who can actually do it… But there is absolutely no room for error now.” He looks at Jungkook with a somewhat stern look on his face, hoping that his words affected Jungkook in some way.

Jungkook just nods.

“Jungkook, I hope you realize how serious this is. Not only for the club and your boxing ambitions, but…” he hesitates a bit, but decides to continue “you can finally get that money for your brother.”

“I know,” Jungkook says, nodding a few more times, with a reassuring look in his eyes.  

 Minutes pass by and the other guys start arriving one by one, and when their cheap plastic clock on the right wall shows 7 O’clock, the actual training starts. Sounds of bare feet tapping across the room can be heard throughout the hall, strong masculine bodies hitting the mats – competitive young men and excess testosterone.

Time goes by fast when he’s here and he feels dread when the training is over, because he has to go back home. After he exits the gymnasium, and the hard doors close behind him, another painful day starts.

He walks back home – the wind has started blowing harder than when he first got out of the house this morning – he rubs his hands over his arms, in hopes of heating them up a bit, but the worn out denim just hurts the blisters on the pads of his fingers. Luckily, he has less than ten minutes until he gets home.

He walks through the inner courtyard of the building complex he lives in, which looks more like a park – just a lot of greenery and benches with interlocked buildings creating a sort of concrete maze around it.

The entire neighborhood is old and most of the buildings are in bad condition. They’ve turned grey from all the smog, and almost all the glass on the front doors is broken and covered in graffiti. The buildings were built specifically for the working class, back in the 80s – some of them are square shaped, some L-shaped and there are also five solitaires in the middle, which everyone calls the white angels. Jungkook lives in one of them.

 When he gets home, Taehyung is there, waiting for him in his room – his dad must have let him in. “Why aren’t you answering your phone? I’ve been...” Taehyung motions with his hand, as he struggles to finish the sentence, and he looks almost angry because his mind isn’t working. “I’ve been…” his eyes are half-closed, and he probably doesn’t realize how slow his movements are and how much he is slurring his words.

Jugnkook can already tell what’s going on, so he doesn’t say a word, he just keeps looking at Taehyung, with a stern look on his face – because he’s fed up with this, he’s fed up with Taehyung’s shit. Mostly because he doesn’t know how to deal with this, he can’t get through to him, Taehyung dismisses everything he says and the frustration in Jungkook just keeps building up, because he feels so fucking helpless.

And so he almost yells at Taehyung, after too much time has passed, “you’ve been what?!”

“Calling you the entire morning!” Taehyung finally says, managing to raise up his voice a little – as if he has the right to be pissed – but he’s physically unable to yell.

“I had training,” Jungkook looks at him, anger starting to build up in him even more now, “I’ve had training every morning for the past three years.” His tone is painful for Taehyung. “Are you on heroin again, Taehyung?”

Taehyung frowns, his nose scrunching – his expression full of rage “Fuck you,” he spits out, “I told you I tried that shit once man, ok?!”

There’s an awkward silence, but Jungkook doesn’t give into it, he just keeps staring at Taehyung. So naturally, Taehyung gives in, breaking under the pressure – especially since he’s desperately trying to defend himself.

“I forgot man... I’m just drunk… I didn’t really go home since last night.” He tries to sit on Jungkook’s bed, moving across the room painfully slowly, “anyways, I wanna sell my leather jacket, so, like, I wonder if..” he makes another unnecessary pause, breathing heavily, as if it’s physically hard for him to speak, “if like,” he raises his voice all of a sudden, “any of your guys from the gym are interested.. Soo, that you can... you know…” He looks at Jungkook, thinking that Jungkook understood everything, not realizing how confusing his sentences are.  “So, can you ask them? If they are?”  

Jungkook is sitting on the couch, right across from Taehyung.

“You look like a fucking junkie,” Jungkook almost hisses, with disgust written all over his face, “you can’t even speak.” He waits for a reaction, but it doesn’t come.

“Are you that fucking dumb? Did you really decide to be a heroin addict, who shits and pukes all over himself, because he’s so out of it? Is that it?” He waits again. “Why did you stop boxing? What, you don’t like it anymore? All of a sudden? Taehyung?!”

Taehyung looks so insulted, but at the same time, he can’t do anything about it, because just trying to focus on Jungkook takes so much energy and concentration. He’s trying so hard to keep his body still and not fall down, but he doesn’t realize that his upper body is swaying from left to right, even though he’s sitting down. His breathing is so heavy and it is so painfully loud in the uncomfortable silence Jungkook has left them in.

“You wanna sell your favorite jacket?” Jungkook continues, “that’s your only jacket.” He waits for a response again. “Why do you need the money so bad?”

“Fuck you man.” Taehyung’s reply is filled with so much hate, that Jungkook was actually able to hear the sound of all the spit that has gathered in Taehyung’s mouth, as he was pronouncing that “F”.  Taehyung starts getting up, pulling up his pants, and slowly walking towards the door.

“Every time I come to you for a favor, you act like a fucking woman, nagging and talking shit all the time. When have you turned into this fucking savior, huh? Does it get you off? Huh?” He grabs the door handle, but looks at Jungkook, before he opens the door, “does this make you feel better, because you can’t help your brother?”

Jungkook just stares at him and Taehyung leaves.

The first few seconds, Jungkook actually feels the need to run after Taehyung and smash his skull. But then he suddenly comes to his senses, and he wonders – when has their friendship turned into this shit? Talking like they despise each other, frustration building up on both sides. He hates the way Taehyung talks to him, the way he’s treating him – who the fuck does he think he is?

Then, after he calms down a little, he actually starts thinking about this the right way. Jungkook is disgusted with himself for feeling impatient and inconvenienced – for feeling irritated by Taehyung – when instead, he should be helping Taehyung.

But he doesn’t know how.

 He has to take cold showers, because their electricity was turned off, for not paying the bills. His mom is out again, his dad is prostrated across the table – his brother long forgotten, as he continues to wither in his hospital bed.

******

 Jungkook skips over a puddle, it was raining hard tonight and it’s chilly outside. There’s no one on the street, he only hears his footsteps tapping across the wet concrete, as he heads towards the club. The air is fresh and the street lights are reflecting in the puddles – a scenario that he knows all too well. He’s already drunk, because alcohol is less expensive in the 7/11 than at the strip club, so he always drinks before he goes there.

He pays for sex – not because he has to, far from it, but because it excites him – it heightens the sexual experience

It’s also a subconscious thing – he feels “loved” here, he is every girl’s object of affection – he is everyone’s favorite. They care for him, nurture him, they heal his scars – both inside and out. He loves the delicate touches, how careful and tender girls are with him – after an entire day of being hit, he guesses that’s kind of normal.

But tonight’s a special night, because tonight he actually came here for someone.

 The bass is so loud that it almost hurts your ears, but you’ll get used to it soon. The music in the club is purposefully chosen in order to create a dark and exhilarating mood, which awakens all the beasts of the soul.

You’ve just exited the changing rooms, entering the main floor of the club, and after a minute of looking around the crowd, you recognize the guy from yesterday. At least you think it’s him, because you can only see his back.

But after a couple of seconds he turns around and now you’re sure it’s him, because of the nasty scar starting all the way from his mouth and spreading across his left cheek – in a way, distorting even the corner of his lips a little bit. You’ve heard of this before, supposedly, it’s caused by cutting the person from the corners of his lips, all the way to the ears, leaving a scar in the shape of a smile. But usually, it doesn’t look as severe as his, you’ve never seen a scar like that, and he only has it on one side of his face.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even realize he’s spotted you too, and now he’s walking towards you. You can’t help but smile a little when you see him, because you’re happy that he’s here for you.

He’s also smiling as he comes up to you, towering above you, because he’s so tall. You want to kiss him, but there’s no touching on the main floor, so you beckon him towards the back rooms – that’s what he’s here for, after all.

But his hand finds its way to your hair, his thumb caressing your cheek, as he smiles lovingly. But now dread is written across your face, because you know that your boss is there somewhere and that he’s gonna get so pissed off because Jungkook’s touching you in front of everyone. And sure enough, you can see him right behind Jungkook, walking towards you.

You try to prepare yourself, as you watch him come over, but as soon as he sees Jungkook, his eyes widen and he looks completely surprised – almost in awe. Jungkook looks at him once, but pays no further attention to him, and pulls you a bit closer.

“Jungkook, what a surprise! Would you, maybe, be interested in a private room?” You’ve never heard your boss be that polite to anyone, so you wonder – what is it about Jungkook that’s causing this special treatment?

Jungkook replies, but doesn’t even spare him a glance and just continues examining your face “yeah, we were just heading there.”

You enter the back rooms in silence – you’re already used to it. You both act like you know each other – as if you’re lovers, who have been separated against their will, and now you have reunited after a long time – you don’t say a word, but every move is filled with such intense emotions. You smile at each other, your kisses are desperate and passionate, but also intimate – he kisses your chest, your hands, your shoulders – and that’s unusual in a place like this.  

He pulls out his cellphone from his pocket and puts it on the small table.

He sits down onto the couch and god... his physical appearance is so divine – god-like. His shoulders are broad, but then his torso narrows down towards the waist, giving his silhouette a beautiful shape. The muscles on his arms are very prominent and are nicely accentuated by the black shirt he’s wearing. And then, your favorite part – his thighs are huge, the muscles large and sturdy, even more so because he’s sitting down. His legs are spread apart, inviting you to just sit in his lap.

You straddle him and decide to break the silence, “you came back,” you say.

His fingers are warming up on your thighs, the watch on his wrist ice-cold as it moves up your skirt. You put your hands around his neck and play with the ends of his tar-black hair there. He just nods as he starts breathing heavily.

“How was your day?” He says, cupping your cheek and you’re surprised at how gentle he is.

“Ok.. The usual.”

He pulls you in for a kiss and you start by kissing his bottom lip first – tasting the remaining alcohol – then you playfully lick his top lip a little bit, before he deepens the kiss. He starts squeezing you harder, encouraging you to grind your hips. He starts pushing his hips into you and can feel the outline of his hard cock.

His hand is in your hair again, guiding you in all the ways he wants, as he lowers down onto your neck, licking long stripes with the tip of his tongue. And you can’t believe that just kissing with him feels this good.  

He clashes your lips together, whimpering in frustration, as his thrusts become more desperate.

You press the palms of your hands down to his sturdy chest, touching him everywhere. Seeing the creases on his shirt blows your mind a little bit, because you didn’t realize you were pulling on it so hard. He takes his shirt off – which leaves him only with his silver necklace on – and you’re finally able to feel his beautiful skin.

You start licking into each other’s mouths again, but the sound of his phone ringing snaps you out of it. He stands up with you still in his lap – holding you by your thighs – he puts you down and walks over to the small table where his phone is.

And you realize that this is the first time you’ve seen his back, naked, because you had no idea that he has a tattoo. He has a traditional Japanese tiger, tattooed all over his back. “The tiger,” you think to yourself, “the sign that is feared – the one who represents strength and courage.”

You completely miss the conversation he was having on his phone, and before you know it, he’s back on the couch. He beckons you over and you sit next to him, with his arm wrapped around you.

It’s so weird, because you feel as if this is your living room and he is your husband – he doesn’t rush anything, he doesn’t want to fuck you straightaway – he’s fine with talking and kissing. But tonight you don’t want to talk, so you straddle him again.

He brings his hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you by the hair and tilting your head backwards. His other hand is on your back and so he’s basically pushing you down on his thighs – while you’re still straddling him – as he towers above you. He just looks at you for a couple of seconds and he kisses you hard, pushing his tongue deep into your mouth, letting out a loud exhale through his nose.

When he pulls you up again, you start grinding onto his hard cock, riling him up, his breathing becoming more ragged.

He pushes you off his lap and onto the floor – a loud thump breaking the silence – when your knees hit the wooden floor. His legs are spread apart, naked chest heaving, and you grabs his calves instantly, pulling yourself upwards, in between his legs.

His massive silver watch looks like a kind of restraint on him and you’re not sure why you like it so much – the fact that he’s naked and he’s only got these two pieces of jewelry on him.

He places his hand on the nape of your neck again, pulling you towards him, as he towers above you.  He pulls you towards his face – you flash him a smile and you open your mouth. He spits into your mouth, letting it dribble out slowly and pulls you in for a kiss.

You’re surprised when he pulls you into his lap again – you thought you were gonna suck him off first – but you learned yesterday that he can be a little bit impatient. He pulls out a condom from his pocket, unzips his jeans and takes out his cock without pulling his jeans down – not even a little bit – and you think to yourself that that’s pretty masochistic, because the metal zipper is pressed into his cock.

You hover above it and you slowly push it in. Your lips part as you do so, moaning when you completely sit down on his thighs, with his cock fully inside you.

You instinctively tighten around him and he groans, already feeling himself leaking into the condom. He starts slamming into you, your ass slapping against his thighs, as you hold onto his wide shoulders. You move your hands to the side of his face, caressing his cheeks, his jaw – just touching his face all over. Then down to his shoulders, his ribs, his abs – you can’t believe he’s real.

He slows down and just darts out his tongue, waiting for you to suck on it. You smile again, wrapping your lips around his tongue and pulling it into your mouth. You start kissing again, clenching every time he slams into you. He closes his eyes – can feel them rolling back into his head – as he nears his orgasm.

“Fuck me,” you barely manage to say, but he stops and pushes you down onto the leather couch, turning you around and pushing your face into it.

“Is this what you want?” That’s the only time he speaks, voice so deep from the alcohol and lack of sleep.

 He rubs the head of his cock over your clit, almost making you cum then and there. He pushes his head inside first and he’s balls-deep the next moment. He brings his hands down to your ass, parting your cheeks, as he looks down at his cock moving in and out. Jungkook places his hand on the back of your neck, holding you down, as he slams into you harder and harder.

You come in silence, your body completely paralyzed from how good it feels. And soon after, he comes, too.

After that, it’s like you’re in your room again. He lights up a cigarette, sitting on the couch with just his jeans on.

“I have this dream,” he starts speaking, “from time to time.” You’re right beside him, listening carefully. “Always the same dream,” he puts out his cigarette and pulls you into his lap. “I’m in a room with this woman and she’s feeding me butterfly wings.” He makes a pause. “I know it’s weird, but they taste nice – like the sweetest, most delicious candy you’ve ever tried.” You’re playing with his hair, as he tells you about his dream, and you listen to him carefully – you don’t know if you’re more mesmerized by him or by his dream.  

“But the wings are so thin and so delicate, that, as soon as she touches them, with the pad of her finger, they stick onto it. And I stick my tongue out,” you look him in the eyes, as he grabs your middle finger and brings it to his mouth, “and she puts them on my tongue.” And he sticks out his tongue, licking the pad of your finger. Shivers run down your spine and you think that you’re finally in love.

******

The crowd is so loud he feels like the entire arena is shaking from their chants. He’s never been in a match this big. They have about ten minutes before they go out, he’s jumping around a bit, warming up, before his coach comes up to him with boxing wraps that he has to put on his hands.

He’s not nervous, he was never the type to feel anxious before something so important and he doesn’t even know how lucky he is because of it. He was born like that and he never had to think about how other people struggle because of psychological pressure.

The coach is saying some words of encouragement as he’s wrapping his hands, even though there’s absolutely no need for that and he knows it. Everyone from his gym is there to support him and in a way he feels happy, because they’re starting to look like a proper team, ready to take on the world.

This is as big as it’ll ever get in their small hometown, but he’s already dreaming of the huge spotlights in the Las Vegas arena.

The clock is ticking and he can’t wait to exit the small white room they’re currently in. The coach went back to the locker room to put away the remaining fabric, but he’s taking too long and they’re supposed to exit in a few minutes. Jungkook hears some faint chatter – a female voice – she seems to be speaking with his coach and then the conversation starts getting louder and louder.

Everyone’s looking towards the locker rooms and finally Jungkook’s mother appears, babbling something seemingly inaudible, or maybe his brain is just unable to process it because he’s so surprised that she’s there. His coach is physically trying to stop her from entering the main room – she looks drunk, completely wasted, maybe that’s why – but then the coach continues speaking to her, raising his voice: “Please don’t tell him now! Now is not the time!”

But she doesn’t listen to him, violently trying to push him away. She searches for Jungkook in this little room filled with unfamiliar people, and when her eyes finally meet with his, she looks so angry at him, her look full of hate, “your brother has died!!!” The sound that leaves her mouth could only be described as a screech, it’s a sound he’s never heard coming from his mother.

And with that, he’s being pushed outside as his name is being announced to the hundreds of people. He’s in complete shock and he’s sure it shows, his black eyes are as wide as when he was a little baby, when his huge bambi eyes were so prominent on his small face. The reaction that he’s supposed to have is not coming out – he knows that he’s supposed to cry, that he’s supposed to scream, but he can’t, and he doesn’t understand why.

The loud cheering of the crowd is driving him into complete aggression, because his brain starts perceiving it as a threat. His body is overwhelmed with emotion and he feels as if he’s going into shock, but instead of fainting, he’s becoming aggressive because he feels attacked.

He doesn’t even remember how he got into the ring, the judge has already announced their names and the match has started. He remembers to hold his fists in front of his face, even though he’s not consciously thinking about it.

Receiving a couple of blows to his head kind of clears his mind and makes him focus on his opponent. Jungkook tries to hit him once, but misses badly. At the end of the first round, he manages to land a few punches.

He keeps reminding himself that he has to stay focused, because this is the fight of his life, this is what he’s been working for every morning for ten years – and then he suddenly remembers that his brother is dead and that this match doesn’t mean anything anymore. He’s been preparing three years for this competition specifically, just so that he can win the money for his brother’s treatment. But now what? Why is he in the ring now?

Somehow, the entire second round passes with him thinking about this, and what’s more surprising is that he lands some very successful punches – he’s pretty sure he’s gonna win this round.

He manages to calm down his mind and his performance improves greatly – he actually has a chance of winning this thing.

His opponent starts hitting him viciously, and Jungkook starts getting angry again – he has just realized that he let his brother die – if he doesn’t start acting differently, the same thing might happen to Taehyung too. And this guy keeps hitting him in the face – who the fuck does he think he is?!

Jungkook puts all his strength into the next two punches, sending the guy down onto the floor, but he just can’t stop himself now and so he kicks his opponent in the head as he’s lying on the floor.

The next thing he hears is the painful sound of the whistle and it finally brings him back to reality – he’s disqualified. Probably from participating in any championships or tournaments for a couple of years.

The burning lights of Las Vegas have turned off.

**************************

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