#the boxer fic

[gingeraleluke]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘅𝗲𝗿 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sɪxᴛᴇᴇɴ

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: underground boxer!vinnie hacker x fem!influencer!reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: it’s a night to remember!

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT!! , brief vomit, talks of drugs?, anxiety, brief talks of depression, negative self talk, abusive relationship, brief talks of cheating, gaslighting, homophobia if you squint?

𝗔/𝗡: HELLO!!! i’m back after a long and unexpected hiatus. i’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff and needed some time to heal before i could start writing again, so thank you very much for being patient and understanding (for those of you who were). i love you, enjoy.

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“oh, god! fuck, i…i can’t…think straight!”

her face contorted, mouth hung open as profanities left her lips. the slight rocking of her hips against his face was elevating her chest to the air, throwing her head back, she tried her best to keep it from thumping against the hard wooden floor beneath her. her back was killing, but his tongue was too good for her to care.

“don’t think, just feel, baby.” he pulled away, gasping, before immediately diving back in between her legs. she involuntarily grabbed onto the back of his head for support, her fingers tangling into his hair. “fucking, so good, love. should have done this sooner.”

“fuck, please.” she could feel his tongue dance around her clit, his lyrical fingers pumping in and out of her mercilessly. it was rough, yet she felt taken care of at the same time. y/n’s neck arched, hitting her head on the back off the floor. the pain wasn’t nearly as powerful as her nearing climax that was shadowing her every move.

“would have fucked you in front of everyone, sweetheart.” he removed his mouth, leaning forwards to look down at her. his fingers were making scissoring motions inside of her, making sure he hit every spot as deep as possible. “would have fucked you in the gym. i’d have taken off those boxing gloves just to play with you in front of your brother, princess. why didn’t you ask me to fuck you? it’s so obvious how badly you wanted me to.” his scissoring motions turned back into curled thrusts, pushing even deeper into her. she didn’t even know that he could go that deep until he did, letting the loudest cry leave her lips.

“wanted to taste you so fucking bad, didn’t care where you were, just needed to eat your pussy.” his words were unadvised and just so taboo that it made her want to release the coil in her stomach even more. “who knew i’d end up eating you on your floor.”

“fuck, keep going.” she begged, tears beginning to form.

“what a sweet girl. letting me play with her pussy like this, knowing how wrong it is. gonna let me fuck her in front of her boyfriend.” her eyes were screwed shut, but his eyes never left her face, spewing vulgar obscenities while quickening his fingers, hitting as deep as he could.

“god, please…fuck!” she whined, looking back down at him. he moved back down to the wetness between her legs and replaced his digits with his tongue, slowly fucking into her. his nose hit her clit in the most perfect way, while he reached up to feel her tits through her shirt. “keep going, i’m so fucking close, please.”

“mm” he mumbled, moving to wrap his lips around her clit. the vibrations sent waves through her body and he could tell from the shake in her legs that she was gonna cum. in the blink of an eye, his mouth left her pussy and his fingers were knuckle deep in her again. the constant switching was wrecking her insides, bringing her so very close and playing with pleasure points.

“do it.” he took his other hand to grab the back of her neck, forcing her face a mere inches from his. “fucking cum. cum on my fingers.”

“fuck, VINNIE!”

“there you go, say my name..good girl, my good girl.” she could feel her body weaken as she came onto his fingers, cries and whimpers leaving her body. she didn’t have time to calm down before vinnie’s tongue was in between her folds again.

“please, i can’t.”

vinnie mumbled, obscene slurping noises emerging from below her. “i’m gonna clean you up, and then we can go take a shower, yeah?”

“mmhmm.” she laid back, her hair laid out on the ground beneath her.

“gonna fuck you for real in there, so try not to slip.”

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y/n woke up with the familiar pounding in her head and sweat clinging to her back.

“hey.” drakes hand was on her shoulder, cautiously looking at her. she looked shocked more-so than scared, but her shaking body and ragged breath was alarming to him. he looked over his sisters face while her unfocused eyes darted to random points in the room before her senses gave in and she could finally feel the heavy hand on her shoulder and make out the worried face in her view.

the minute her eyes met his, it was like she snapped back to reality. her thoughts could finally form again and the brief relief that washed over her was quickly replaced by the telltale feeling in her throat. her mouth quivered ever so slightly, her eyes shooting a warning-like look towards drake before she flew out of her bed and ran towards the nearest bathroom. she was sure to lock the door behind her, a weary drake turning her alarm off and following after her.

“y/n, are you okay?”

the sound of the toilet flushing was muffled through the door. y/n wiped off the side of her chin and looked at herself in the mirror for a split second before closing her eyes. tears pricked at the corner of her eyes and drakes voice droned through her ears. the feelings of guilt became draconian and her fingers gripped the ends of the sink. thank fucking god she didn’t sleep at flloyd’s, or else this feeling would have been way worse.

lethal probably.

her and flloyd had already been in murky waters since drakes birthday. she couldn’t bring herself to forgive him for allowing drake to take ketamine that night. the words that vinnie told her, rung in her ears like an alarm. how apparently flloyd had been going behind her back and indulging in substances himself. that thought made her skin itch.

never in a million years did she expect that from flloyd.

roman? of course. but flloyd?

he was always sweet. he always seemed to listen to her. all the times she told him how worried she was for her brother, and this is what he does?

in all honesty, she would have still been ignoring him if it wasn’t for the event tonight. she was way too anxious about the prom to ignore him. that would just worry her more, so fake smiles and pushing feelings to the side was the way she planned to go.

you’re a fucking cheater.

“no-no i’m not.” she shook her head, her face hot. she couldn’t feel her legs and it was as if she was hovering above midair.

all she could think about was that night.

“it’s not my fault. i-i didn’t choose to dream that.”

but you liked it.

her heart broke. how could she be so careless? flloyd was a sweet boy and this is how she treats him?

flloyd deserves better. so did freddie.

“no, flloyd lied to me—“

you really believe vinnie? yeah because he’s a real reliable source, god. look at you, y/n! you’re fucking sickening.

she shook her head, drake’s fists stopped banging on the door. “no, he was telling the truth.”

you’re dumber now than you were in high school. no wonder you believe vinnie, you’re thighs are clenching together just thinking about him. you’re poor brother outside, worrying about you. little does he know that his little sister is a fucking whore who is using his best friend.

“that’s not what this is, that’s not true.”

why do you think freddie cheated on you in the first place? why do you think brittany left you? all you do is use people and then use ur sad tragic backstory to guilt them back.

drake pressed his forehead against the door, calling out to his sister again, before leaving to find something to unlock the door with.

it’s just like he said. you’re a-

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FLASHBACK 4 YEARS AGO

“fucking cheater!”

“that was wicked believable, i’m starting to take you seriously.” y/n laughed, a small ounce of worry in her stomach, boiling. she should have listened to it, but understandably she didn’t. i mean, the whole conversation was ridiculous, he couldn’t actually be upset by it, right?

“this isn’t a fucking joke, y/n!” he slammed his phone onto the table, the device sliding from the impact. “get the fuck out!” he slid his hands over his eyes.

wrong.

“wait, you can’t be serious… baby it was only a dream-“

“yeah, sure. get out.” he laughed coldly, looking up at the ceiling of his living room.

“are you fucking serious? freddie, you’re fucking delusional. it was a dream, it was funny. she laughed about it and so did i, we didn’t actually do anything! why are you being such a baby about this-“ y/n was cut off by freddie roughly grabbing her wrist and cornering her towards the wall.

“call me that one more fucking time.” his breath was hot on her cheek and her heart rate was racing. it was hard for her to focus on his words, with the sharp pain shooting through her wrist. she swallowed, her eyes too scared to leave his brown ones. if she knew that he was being serious, she wouldn’t have laughed earlier. now she knew she was in dangerous territory, like walking through a field of land mines. she knew better than to behave like that when freddie was upset.

“you’re hurting me.” her voice was only a mere whisper, and he tilted his head back laughing breathlessly, his grip staying the same.

“i never cheated on you.” she said sincerely, her eyes watering. her face looked like she was about to sob, while freddie’s stayed the same. cold like always.

her entire being changed that second. everything inside of her suddenly felt like it was working against her and not for her. she was internally screaming at herself.

you ruined everything.

how could your mind be so sick and perverted to do something like that?

why would he ever wanna be with you now.

“bullshit. that’s not what she fucking said.”

“what are you talking about?” she wiggled her arm slightly, to try and break his hold on her, but it only pissed him off more, as he bended her wrist backwards till she stopped moving, a small whimper leaving her lips.

“oh please, y/n!” he raised his voice, making her body jolt under his touch. “she told me about the night you two spent together. how you kissed her, how you try to join her whenever she takes showers.”

he’s right, y/n.

you’ve always been close with her. too close. the pet names and the cuddling. nothing in that is domestic.

you’ve been cheating on him this whole time. who’s to say that maybe one time when you were applying her lipgloss, that you didn’t get too lost in her lips and press yours against them?

“i don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, that’s not true!”

“oh, okay, so she’s just lying?!”

britanny would never lie. atleast the britanny y/n knew.

she was her best friend. they’d been friends since they were kids and she had never been uncomfortable before. his words felt artificial as they traveled through her ears. she knew there was no way in hell that this was actually happening. when she told britanny that she had a sex dream about her, the two just laughed it off. it wasn’t nearly a big deal and y/n never thought to tell freddie about it because why would she? it’s just a dream and didn’t mean anything.

of course she would be uncomfortable.

you cling to her like a lost puppy.

she’s your only friend and by the looks of it, it’s gonna change.

watch, he’s gonna leave you too and so you’ll be all alone.

“i-“ freddie rolled his eyes and went to walk away but she pulled him back. “she is! she’s lying! i-i don’t know why but i swear, freddie it’s not true!”

she started crying. her mascara ran and her lips frowned and all she wanted to do was limp away like a lost little puppy. she had no idea what was happening. her brain couldn’t process it. he began going on about how he couldn’t trust her. about how embarrassing it was for him and how he couldn’t be the guy dating the only lesbian in school, but he said it in a much graphic and cruder way that she couldn’t help but be glad to have droned out. he eventually got sick of yelling at her to leave as she was frozen in place and left himself, towards the door.

you cheated.

all you do is hurt people.

look how upset you made him, he’s starting to walk away.

“freddie wait!” the door opening broke her out of her trance and she felt herself drop to her knees momentarily. she stood back up, taking deep breaths and trying to figure out what was happening.

britanny was betraying her. the very same britanny who she used to play on the playground with and share secrets. who she used to sleep over and eat mac and cheese with. who she swore she would be friends with forever.

there was no kiss. no romantic chemistry between them. she never made a move on her nor vice versa. this whole smear campaign was deeper of a betrayal than she saw coming.

her eyes darted to his phone vibrating on the table. he forgot to grab it when he ran off who knows where.

it was a squalid thing to do, going through his phone, in his living room inside his house. under any circumstance, it was deemed messy. well, any other circumstance.

she didn’t expect the notification on his phone to have her best friends name on it.

she unlocked it, knowing the passcode from the previous times she had seen him open it, and she tried to blink her tears away in order to reach the instagram message.

did you tell her yet? ❤️

it was all a plan. freddie was planning on leaving y/n for her best friend. her best friend had been plotting to steal him away for some time now and when y/n confessed her dumb sapphic dream she had about the two, she saw it as a chance to break them up. it made her sick knowing how meaningless the friendship was if she was willing to hurt her this badly just for another boy.

he’s probably on his way to go see her right now. why wouldn’t he? she’s so much better than you are. you’re a monster.

they’ll probably get married and have kids and you’ll still have a body count of one and zero friends, just like you deserve.

she wished she didn’t keep scrolling through their chats, but she couldn’t help herself. it got worse and worse, pictures and heart emojis became fuzzy as the tears came back. once she swiped out of the chat, she saw numerous others. all girls.

she didn’t even have to click on them to know what it was. the last sent texts had already proven it. tons of ‘you’re so fucking sexy’ and ‘she doesn’t have to know’ with a few hearts and water emojis littered in between.

the list was longer than she thought possible. he’d been cheating since two weeks into their two year relationship. just freshman year and she found conversations multiple classmates. her classmates. ones that she thought she could trust. everyone knew they were dating, how did no one tell her?

one date stuck out more than the others and it was a conversation with britanny’s old instagram account on the day that freddie took y/n’s virginity.

she shouldn’t have opened it.

i thought about you when i fucked her tbh.

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the only physical sensation she could feel was the aching of her now-fucked-up ankles from the sixty minute walk home. it felt like her eyes never left the ground, as if the entire timespan was spent watching as her uggs got darker and darker from the rain. the puddles that she’d usually avoid, she treaded through. something about the sixteen year old and how she walked and felt that night, or more-so how she didn’t feel, haunted her. it was like she couldn’t move anything but her legs that were on autopilot. she imaged that she looked like a ghost, her robotic movements lifeless and her tears still kept inside.

the familiar coolness of the doorknob was the only indication that she had arrived home. y/n had never been so dead in her life. closing the door quietly behind her, she felt the harsh burning of her teardrops bundled behind her eyes and she could feel the sweet release of them falling any second. the sound of drake talking on the phone was cathartic, the tv playing quietly in the background.

“drake?”

he glanced behind him, all muscles in his face dropping at the sight of his baby sister. her lip quivered and a tear from each eye fell almost in tune. he didn’t even say anything to the person on the phone as he quickly hung up, y/n bolting towards him at the same time.

drake picked her up in his arms, her wrapping her legs around him and feeling his hands on her back as she sobbed loudly in his neck. she didn’t say anything for a while. she just remembered her brother holding her and bringing her to the couch with him as she wailed, her head laying on his lap for a while while he ran his hands through her hair. she’d never cried so hard or so much in her life.

he was so used to seeing her happy. even if she wasn’t happy, she’d want drake to think so. always strong for her big brother. it was a pain that was unbearable seeing her like this. he didn’t know what to do but his body was dying to do something and he had to convince himself to stay gentle for her. to do what dad would have done.

but god, did she wail that night. heart wrenching sobs that never seemed to die down.

she knew that freddie had anger issues, and would constantly try to convince herself that that part of him wasn’t real. that it was just in her imagination. that he was perfect. she’d put her feelings to the side. always dimming her glow just so he could shine, because she figured that’s how it needed to be. drake remembered the few times he’d heard freddie raise his voice at his sister a little too much for his liking. how badly he wanted to ring his neck then like he wanted to do now.

no man on the planet was good enough for drake havoks sister.

drake was a guy himself, he knew all men were the same. they would just taint her or hurt her and fuck her over, and god knew that drake wanted that to never happen, but he also knew how much she loved love. he couldn’t take that away from her, not when so much of her life had already been ripped from her grasp.

it made sense that he was fine with flloyd and y/n dating. if she was going to date anyone, he’d want it to be with a guy who he knows inside and out. one who’s predictable and knows how dangerous drake can be when he’s upset, especially when his little sisters involved. flloyd’s a smart guy, not super logical and a bit of a dipshit, but a smart enough guy to know well enough to treat y/n like a princess. anything less than that, and drake would tear him apart.

if he was sober at least.

he knew y/n would have to grow up and have her own teenage experience, once that drake would have to deal with and allow, but he had spent so long trying to shield her from it. doing whatever he could to make her appear like a normal girl. like she wasn’t being raised by her brother. letting her have sleepovers with kids, putting on his deep voice and pretending he’s her father over the phone. it made her feel good. it kept eyes from her, and made her less of a target. he even sold his guitar to help buy her uggs when they were in style.

he knew she was already cool but if she wanted to be the cool popular girl at school and needed materialistic things to do so, drake would do whatever he could to make it happen. no amount of money was too much for her. she deserved the things she wanted and more and it killed him that he couldn’t give her that.

that horrible, billowy feeling in his stomach, as the realization that prom was only in a couple days, made him want to break everything in sight.

everything but her.

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NOW

she remembered holding freddie’s phone when his front door opened. his face held an expression different than before, softer than before, until it dropped at the sight of his phone in her hand. the texts shining on the screen.

to this day, she wondered whether or not he was gonna apologize. if he would have still been with her had she never seen the messages on his phone. maybe if she had just stood there and waited for him, he would have come back, arms open and a complete speech about how sorry he was and how much he loved her. maybe he would have kissed her and she wouldn’t have ever found out about his cheating. they would have worn their matching suit and dress to the prom that weekend and they would have never had any difficulties in their relationship ever again. happily ever after from there on out.

but that didn’t happen.

her glossy eyes counteracted his dim ones and she told him that they were over. that there was nothing left.

she remembered how much it hurt her to do so, and to this day she wasn’t sure where the courage and strength to walk out that door had come from.

she remembered crying that weekend, while scrolling through the numerous posts of him and britanny at prom. she didn’t go.

he still wore the suit she picked out for him.

she remembered seeing the familiar ‘x’ symbol next to britannys name, signifying that she had unadded her, and marking the end of their long friendship. losing the two closest people to her, with little to no closure.

she remembered the bruises on her wrist. the night of their breakup wasn’t the only time that he had inflicted bruises there. in fact, there were only brief periods of time when her wrists weren’t bruised. he’d always drag her down school hallways, and even if she told him to stop and that it hurt, he’d just keep doing it.

she didn’t know better though.

she was 14 and never had a boyfriend before. she didn’t necessarily have a representation of what a relationship should be as a kid. so, she just ignored it and would wear bracelets to hide them. they weren’t too pigmented, usually just a bright red at the start and then a dim purple, but the night of the breakup, her wrist had never hurt so bad.

they were bigger and didn’t start a bright red like they usually did. instead, they were an awful deep color, almost like if she had smudged eyeliner on her skin, before turning into a agonizing orange color. she couldn’t fall asleep with her wrist touching anything, or else it’d hurt her and keep her awake. she had even gone to the doctors to make sure it wasn’t sprained. ibuprofen was her best friend for a few weeks.

y/n went into a depression for the rest of highschool. she started going to therapy again and was prescribed meds to help her. up till graduation, she was miserable. the worst part was the nightmares though.

she couldn’t sleep without waking up screaming and crying. everytime she woke up it was like the morning after their breakup, all over again. she’d feel the betrayal and the pain and immediately look to her wrists, expecting to see bruises. she’d pick up her phone expecting to see texts from her now ex boyfriend, thinking that they were still together.

it got to the point where drake started sleeping in her room with her.

it was one night where he went to check on her to make sure she had taken her pills, a bottle of water in his hand.

“drake?”

“yeah?”

“can you stay with me?”

if it wasn’t the absolutely heart wrenching look on her face of desperation, he would have said no. he told her to scootch over and got under the blankets, which were blue at the time. they’d gotten the habit of watching friends together in her bedroom before she’d fall asleep, once he knew she was out of it, he’d slowly make his way to his room. although, often times he’d fall asleep with her.

once she turned 18, he began sleeping on the chair next to her bed, or even on the floor at times, since she was too old to share the bed with comfortably. eventually she got better and the nightmares stopped, but the rest of her school career, she spent nights with her brother, and because of it, it was difficult for him to date or talk to girls. it was as if he was a single father, the way his little sister had taken up so much of his life.

when she finally left the bathroom, drake wasn’t expecting the first words to be about their old friends marathons.

“are you okay?”

“do you remember when you used to sleep in my room?” she asked, seemingly a lot calmer than he assumed she’d be considering she had just threw up and ignored his shouting.

“yeah?” he was puzzled, his demeanor still on guard to make sure she was okay.

“thank you. for doing that. for staying.”

“of course..” she started to walk by him, towards her bedroom. “are you sure you’re okay?”

“yeah! i’m just nervous about tonight that’s all.” she stated with a smile before grabbing her skin care products and starting her morning routine.

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y/n woke up earlier than usual that day, in order to pamper herself as much as possible in preparation for the night. she had been waiting for an opportunity like this for so long and she wasn’t gonna mess it up. she needed to look perfect.

at first, she was gonna wear something more casual of a dress, until kelsey sent her a picture of the dresses that charli and nikita were planning to wear. now, she was hoping her dress would be enough.

she had spent the day texting kelsey, frequently asking questions and pondering on about worries she had. she’d texted mo and even flloyd a few times, trying to push the image of her sex dream with vinnie to the back of her head.

she was extra jumpy, grabbing her bags and making her way to kelsey’s house. the girl had forewarned her that two of her friends, loren gray and brooke kier, would be joining them, which only added to her anxiety. they already were immensely popular and knowing that she would be spending the night with them, including getting ready in front of them, was freaking her out.

this could literally be the biggest day of my life.

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10:30 AM

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙠𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚𝙮

@ 𝙠𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙚𝙧

prom anyone? <3

���4.1K 🔁11K ❤️23K

replies

@ y/n: 👀

@ iamlorengray: oh i’m so ready

4:40 PM

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙮/𝙣

@ Y/N

@ hypehouse see you soon 👀

💬2K 🔁4.2K ❤️6.9K

replies

@ userone: WHAT

@ usertwo: IM SO CONFUSED?? NEW HYPE HOUSE MEMBERv???

@ userone: @ usertwo SHUT UP ILL LOSE IT

@ userthree: MOTHER IS FINALLY FEEDING US 🥳

@ userfour: you better fucking post some tiktoks or i stg

@ userfive: UMMM Y/N X CHARLI CROSSOVER??

@ usersix: MEET NIKITA PLEASE

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

when y/n arrived at the address kelsey sent her, her heart stopped. she’d never seen the outside of the british girls house, only ever seeing inside her living room and bedroom in the background of her videos. the place made hazels house look like a kmart, and that’s not even being dramatic. the modern building was in a strange shape that resembled a tetris piece, it’s white walls holding the square windows that y/n could peer through to see the somewhat familiar staircase and halls of the house. she grew even more nervous at the sight of multiple, super expensive, cars in the drive way, one she recognized to be kelsey’s.

she’d spent all day working on skincare and planning, trying not to let the anxiety eat her away, but now that she was here, it all truly sinked in that this was happening. kelsey’s house was an hour away, so she offered to have y/n spend the night there along with brooke, loren, and their dates. she obviously agreed, given the opportunity to make more friends in the industry, yet would be lying if she said she wasn’t terrified. she quickly texted the brunette to tell her that she had arrived and waited for her response.

Kelsey 😘:

hey! come through the side door, i left it unlocked. ❤️💖😘

here goes nothing

she ignored the icky nervous feeling that sat in the pit of her stomach, as she continued her way towards the house, slamming the car door and leaving some of her stuff in the car while carrying the smaller things with her. her fingers gripped onto the bags she was holding, forming a tight fist till her knuckles became white, as a way to release some of the immense and sickly tension she felt in her chest. silver rings were worn on almost every finger, in honor of the special occasion. the girl felt weird walking into someone else’s house, especially one she had never been inside before, but since kelsey told her to, she opened the slider door.

entering the lavish building, she was immediately met with the sound of loren laughing nearby. it was a welcoming sound, despite not even seeing them face to face yet. her giggles were adorable and were sent through the hallways, leaving a light echo that traveled along the interior of the large, unexplored building. kelsey’s familiar berkshire accent droned out the laughs from the blonde girl, and while y/n couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, kelsey was never known to be quiet— her booming voice always draping over others and gaining everyone’s attention. even though some may find it annoying, y/n thought it was endearing the way the girl’s personality shone through her voice.

“she’s here!” kelsey shouted, hearing the slam of the slider door.

“hi!” y/n called out, a smile on her face as she walked towards them. the two girls were seated at a black granite counter that was off to the side of the kitchen, contrasting the white island of the kitchen. it was a different set up, as if there was a mini area with just a table that separated the kitchen from the living room.

there was make-up scattered around them, multiple cosmetic bags and two round mirrors with white lights around the rim. she noted the charcuterie board in the center of the counter with numerous fruits, all cut into different shapes, and while brooke arrived back from her trip to the bathroom and loren and kelsey got up to greet the girl, y/n felt her worries slowly get dimmer.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

all of the blueberry’s laid out amongst the fruit, had been eaten by y/n by the time everyone was done getting ready. she loved her two new now friends, but loren was definitely connecting to her on a different level. brooke was sweet but seemed a lot more distant. they immediately did what they could to make y/n feel more included, which started by loren offering her to pick the songs that they played while getting ready. y/n mentioned one direction, knowing that loren liked them as well. truth is, y/n always liked them but after meeting hazel and knowing that she’s loosely linked to them, it made her wanna go back and listen to the heartthrob band again.

they made small talk while trying to get to know the girl, including them asking about who her date for the night would be which resulted in an awkward attempt at y/n briefly touching on vinnie’s existence— the one boy who the girl already couldn’t stop thinking about.

she felt like she had fucked him. obviously she didn’t, and it was just a dream—so moreso like her subconscious fucked him— but boy did she feel guilty. her entire body was pulsating with nerves about what it was going to be like seeing him again. it all felt so real. the way he looked up at her from between his thighs…and it was a clearer image in her head than most actual memories were. she had the feeling that he would be able to know that somethings up, he had a way of reading her like that, so she focused on the drink that kelsey’s boyfriend sebastian gave her and the eyeshadow brush in between her fingers.

her makeup was fairly simple compared to the other girls, but she opted for a blue eyeliner instead of a black one when applying her winged liner, which matched with her space cadet blue dress.

the dress was an a-line gown that was lacy and sheer at the top and had spaghetti straps to go around her shoulders. the dress was sparkly all over, so much so that it would shimmer even when in the dark.

loren had a dress a similar color, but was a lighter teal and hugged her body a bit more than y/n’s did. it was sleeveless and arched at the chest with a long slit down the side, and had more glitter than y/n’s dress did. she braided brooke’s hair back while brooke strapped her black heels on. brooke wore a hot pink satin dress that had ripples in the front and a trail in the back while kelsey wore a more casual bodycon dress that was a glittery black.

y/n’s dress was the most gown-like and because of it, she second guessed herself that she was overdressed, which prompted the girls to remind her what the other partygoers were going to be wearing which immediately shut her up.

the whole afternoon, she spent with her phone nearby. she told the girls that it was because flloyd kept texting her, but the real reason was that she was anxious about vinnie.

what if he comes in a pair of sweatpants?

what if he doesn’t show up at all?

am i gonna regret this?

her mind was going 5x speed through all of the possible outcomes that could happen, even as they all were leaving.

brooke’s boyfriend and loren’s date were going to meet them there, along with vinnie, while sebastian and kelsey sat together, hand in hand, in the center of the limo they were in.

“you really never went to prom?” her british accent cut through the girls thoughts as she mindlessly played with the multiple silver rings on her fingers, her nails blue with stars painted on them.

“no…i didn’t.” her lips made a thin line and she crossed her legs, looking at the other two girls who were smiling back at her. she sat beside loren while brooke sat on the end, kelsey and her date across from them. brooke and loren were drinking what looked like champagne and were playing some song from the speaker of their phone, chanting and clearly excited for the night.

calm down, y/n.

everything’s gonna be fine.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

vinnie 🐞🤍

we just got here, are u close?

hello?

yeah

where are you

road was busy calm down i’ll be there in a sec

okay

everyone is walking in vinnie where are you

hurry up i’m holding everyone up

i’m here

“i’m sorry, he said he’s here.” she turned around, walking forwards down the path towards the gate and peered over the bushes and the cars, trying to see him. she had no idea what his car looked like, so she was a lost cause.

“hey.”

y/n jumped at the sudden voice in close proximity to her and her startled legs shook in her heels, causing her to lose her footing for a second till a hand grabbed her waist to steady her.

“hey, woah. you good?”

“god, vinnie— you scared me!” she put a hand on his chest, the space cadet blue suit sparking her interest.

she couldn’t believe it.

she assumed that he would wear something simple, but boy was she wrong. the color was exact and it fit him perfectly. not only that, but his nails were painted black, a detail she noticed as he scratched his scruff.

he looked so sexy that it was borderline dangerous.

y/n suddenly grew wary of the girls around them, a territorial instinct twisting inside of her.

oh god, get it together the night hasn’t even started yet.

“something wrong?” he asked, prying her eyes to meet his instead of looking at his tattoos that shown on his chest beneath the opened up white button up under his suit, perfectly placed under his silver chains. she couldn’t believe what she was looking at, it was almost too good to be true. his lips were puffy as if he had been chewing on them nervously and he leaned towards her, waiting for her to answer.

“i didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“yeah, well-“ he scoffed, letting his eyes wander downwards to land on her body.

he immediately regretted doing so.

y/n was a stunning girl, that was obvious, but something about seeing her in a gown like a princess with her hair straight and put together behind her shoulders, was killing him in ways he never thought would.

vinnie had never really found dresses attractive like that before.

but y/n? seeing her in one is changing his mind.

he cleared his throat, “you have something for me?” motioning to the box behind the girls back.

“oh, yeah. here.” pinning the white flower to his chest, she then noticed the corsage the boy was holding. “you got a corsage?” she asked, trying to ignore the way he gulped as he looked down at her while she applied it to the fabric.

“well, yeah.”

“have you been to prom before?”

“nope.”

“oh…” the two started walking towards the entrance of the mansion, “me neither.”

after awkwardly introducing him to the girls and their dates, they made their way inside.

“wait.” vinnie blurted, causing his date to turn around confused. the look on his face showed that he truly wasn’t expecting the word to leave his mouth, but once it did, he couldn’t stop.

“you look really beautiful tonight.”

an immediate blush arose to the girls cheeks but she tried to play it cool, thanking him. “you don’t look too bad yourself.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

this is the event she got all worried about?

sure, the place was filled to the brim with influencers, but it was filled with even more camera crews with cameras that were only focused on the hype house members.

she could barely get a word in with how busy with the crews they were. she assumed that they were talking about whatever drama was happening for their netflix documentary, but they forgot about everyone else in at the party, or they just didn’t care.

it was honestly pathetic.

there wasn’t really meeting new people, instead it was just groups of already friends with their dates talking in corners while trying to hide substances from the cameras that were lingering around the place. while brooke and kelsey were busy with their dates, loren was single but that didn’t stop her from being in the center of the dance floor (if you could even call it that). as soon as they finished taking pictures at the photobooths, they all jumped to doing their own thing. loren stopped to make sure y/n didn’t wanna join her, but she opted to stay alone with vinnie and uncomfortably be in the corner away from the hectic mess.

it wasn’t very ‘influencer’ of her, but honestly? her brain was so broken from vinnie’s presence that she found it more exciting standing beside him than meeting and gossiping with charlie and dixie.

she thought that she was fine, but then she’d get hit with flashes of the image of vinnie shirtless on top of her, and she’d lose focus. instead of paying attention to what could be the biggest moment of her life, she couldn’t help but wonder how big her dates dick was and she swore he could read her thoughts with the way he kept eye fucking her.

it felt good seeing how his focus stayed on her rather than the numerous hot girls that surrounded him.

that was until it didn’t.

one girl in particular started chatting the boy up and even though he clearly wasn’t interested, y/n’s vision made it seem that he was. he knew that this was merely for business. that y/n would rather go with any other guy, but he happened to be the best fit; but that didn’t stop him from wanting to give her a good time.

it started with him dragging her more towards the action, keeping his distance while dancing to whatever lil wayne song was playing in the background, but he grew more and more aggressive throughout the songs.

what y/n didn’t know was that some hype house guy kept staring down the valley of her breasts whenever she would face his way, causing hacker to clench his jaw and redirect her so she was looking at him.

“you okay?” she shouted over the music. he insisted he was fine just to keep her dancing. vinnie’s brain kept repeating the same thing;

she’s dressed like a princess, she shouldn’t be ogled so inappropriately by fuckboys.

in fact, she shouldn’t be talking to any guys here as far as i’m concerned.

vinnie hacker? possessive?

usually not, but tonight he was.

♫ 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙗𝙮 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙤

“come onnnn..” he dragged out, barely any liquor in his or his dates system.

“you seriously wanna dance? to this song?”

i used to know but now that shit don’t feel right

it made me put away my pride

every one was slow dancing with their dates and vinnie saw the opportunity to do the same with her. after seeing how upset she looked watching all the couples kiss and dance, he figured she deserved at least one good dance.

“if you don’t dance with me right now, i will take my pants off in the middle of the dance floor, havok.”

“fuck! okay, fine i’m coming. i just..didn’t think you’d wanna dance to be honest.”

i’m wishing i could make this mine

his tattooed hands found themselves on her waist, and for someone who hadn’t been to prom, he seemed to know a thing or two about slow dancing. he was a gentleman to her all night, and she couldn’t believe it. no lewd comments or crude jokes; yes, he would imagine her without the dress on whenever she’d look away and memorize her body, but she didn’t need to know that, hence she was doing the same thing. the slim line between her dream and reality was becoming slimmer by the second and that look in his eyes when she’d talk to him wasn’t helping.

think about flloyd.

think about drake.

if you need it

we could make it

“it’s prom, of course i wanna dance. i’m not a loser.”

usually vinnie knows the things that make him tick. what to do to get him going and what to avoid thinking about, especially in public, but right now he had no fucking idea.

if you want it

you can have it

her chest was in such close proximity to him that he could feel her body heat. while the thought of her sex dream with him finally left y/n’s mind, vinnie’s just got dirtier.

maybe it’s the fact that she doesn’t try to change him. maybe it’s how she is honest with him or maybe how she’s his polar opposite.

but then again, it could also be how she looks like an absolute royalty just begging to be fucked.

whatever he’d have to do in order to have her then and there at that party, he would do.

they gon find you

gon catch you sleepin

her cheek rested against his shoulder and he concealed his thoughts as best to his ability. he couldn’t let her know what he was thinking, he needed her to think that he couldn’t care less. vinnie hacker at a prom? never, he’s too cool for that.

but little did she know that he was just about red hot in her arms.

now don’t you close your eyes

is there sex pollen in the air?

what is it that is making the boy so fucking horny for the girl he was holding? while she talked he prayed that she’d keep her face where it was, scared that the sight of her lips and her eyes looking up at him would snap the cord that was in his chest.

“i’m sorry for dragging you to this…it’s not as fun as i assumed it’d be.”

it was true. she thought that she’d be right in the middle of the hype house members, filming tiktoks with them and listening to their dirty secrets, but instead it was clearly just for pr. she wondered what a real hype house party would be like. one that wasn’t monetized and full of camera men. she assumed that she’d like it a lot more than this.

“i’m just glad that you’re actually making an effort and not fucking some girl on a bathroom sink.”

too late

you wanna make it right but now it’s too late

those words were enough to push him over the edge.

hearing her say ‘fucking’ and ‘bathroom sink’ made him think about how it felt when he hooked up with hazel after seeing y/n’s chest covered in water that she ‘spilled’ onto herself. he wondered how loud her moans would be against shower walls. would the partygoers be able to hear them through all the noise? he’d make sure that they did.

“jesus fuc-“ he lightly pulled away, y/n looking up at him confused.

“what’d you say?”

vinnie felt a buzz in his pocket, signifying that he got a text message. “nothing-no, i was just saying that you really owe me for this..” his hand went to the back of her head, keeping her against his chest as they swayed. he snaked an arm out to check his phone, cursing mentally about how perfect the night would have been if it wasn’t for his immense horniness;

that, and the fact that the text he got was from hazel who was outside of the hype house calling his name.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

@justalostgirl @obliviatevamps @letsjustbeourselves

@starslcve @bakerkells @mrs-woodwesleyobrien

@isabelleforest73 @creepytoes88 @wrldofspice

@soapiaa @tremendousalpacawitch @devilsbooksworld

@lidiyabest @maurauderswhxre @tranquiiit @etleseraphin

@heizenka @radioblah-blah @eilishbby @laylasbunbunny

[fics-lovebot]

jungkook fic recs pt. 2

main masterlist - jungkook fic recs pt. 1 - jungkook fic recs pt. 3

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

fuck buddies - ( @angelguk ) smut, angst, non-idol, fwb au, jk wished you were more than just fwb

decalcomania - ( @floralseokjin ) angst, cheating trope, NOW THIS!!! if you´re an angst loving hoe like me tHIS will do it, its a whole 2019 banger fr, it has it ALLL, and also? no hea, periodddd. i love it SO MUCH

his name - ( @jimlingss ) angst, fluff, multiple personality!au. this absolute 8 piece MASTERPIECE was posted 7 years ago,,2017- can you believe it? i was so happy to read this again. fuck "after" tHIS is the one that should be on netflix, i have never read anything similar on here, the whole plot is INSANE, i love it

squirting - ( @lavishedinjimin ) smut, pwp. anon had a vvvery specfic request and we love her for that

written in the stars - (@jcwriting ) anggst, fflluufff, smut. soulmate au, werewolf!jk, human!reader. one of my faves out there for rreealllll, it´s an all-rounder and, ofc, a 2021 banger

this kingdom - ( @whatifyoulivelikethat ) smut, fluff, crack, au series, one sided E2L, softsub gamer!jk, power bottom gamer noona!reader, reader is thiccc and jungkook is an ass man fosho. ANOTHER ONEEE, this time from 2020, this is fucking AMAZING ok??, the seggs, the banter, the chemestry, EVERYTHING, it´s so good omg

pretty girl - ( @bts-trash-blog ) smut, tattoo artist!jk, chubby reader, THIS IS ITTTTT, he´s tall, dark and handsome, flirty af too, "pretty girl" stFUUUU, they both want to fuck so he shoots his shot at the tattoo appointment

easy - ( @itsamejin ) angsty, fuckboy jk, bet!trope, jk plays you so he can get his rent paid, i read this one a lawwngg time ago and decided i was an angst loving hoe

Inevitable - ( @ahundredtimesover ) angst, fluff, smut, lovers to exes to lovers, baseball player!jk, dad!jk, parents au, you break up with jk years ago after you got pregnant bc you wanted him to follow his dreams and now he´s back home just to find out there´s a boy who looks just like him.. this is a masterpiece, honestly one of THEE best jk series out there, it has it all fr, the angst is angsty and the fluff is FLUFFY, i love it sm i´ve read it 3 times and never get tired of it

finish line - ( @bonny-kookoo ) fluff, nerdy!jk, racer!jki loooooveee itttttt, so cute, so fluffy, this blurb uGHHHHH, just read the whole thing pls

ungodly hour - ( @explicit-tae ) crack, smut, fluff, college au, broke college student!reader, lowkey slutty!reader, jk is thirsstttyyyyy, simping atp, "who´s dick do i have to suck for a hulu account?" this series is honestly so funny ksjakskjs

disney + and bust - ( @1kook ) angst, fluff, smut. yall already know i love to see man crying and begging for forgiveness :p, so kook is ur succesfull "app developer" bf and he says some very hurtfull things to you out of anger

rattled - ( @gukslut ) complete series, single dad au, angst, smut. honestly? one of the best fics out there. I read this a long time ago and i´m still in awe. The way this is written makes you feel every word. also, the plot is so so unique. i love it.

pu$$y fairy - ( @angelguk) smut, college au, non-idol, fuckboy!jk, virgin!reader, this is a 2020 old but gold, i read this a long time ago and still love it to this day

sweeter than strawberries - ( @cinnaminsvga ) shy baker!jk, college student!reader, noona!reader ??, s2l, mutual pining, cute cute cuteeee, another 2020 banger, i love how lenghty they used to be

you wrote jk a confession letter but he didn’t see it - ( @angelguk ) fluff, small brain big heart!jk, college au, non-idol, LMAOOOO this was funny asl, 2020 did it again, i loved this

frost impressions - ( @fortunexkookie ) soccer coach!jk, teacher!reader, gamer au, work au, idiots to lovers, one sided pining at first, it´s a longggg one. another 2020 masterpiece, one of my favorite fics out there, he´s so disgustingly smitten with his new coworker that he ends up making a terrible first impression. so so so entertaining and fun to read, jk is silly af lmao, can´t stop putting his foot in his mouth, theres a bunch of cute second hand embarrasment situations

Over The Odds | The Confession - ( @jungk0oksthighs ) ceo jk, sugardaddy jk, jealous bf jk, sugar baby reader, he gets mad and yells bc he is lowkey insecure of her ex but reader is equaly in love. this is a series

wrong time - ( @spideyjimin ) smut, angst, dilf!jk, ceo!jk, exes to lovers, workaholic as a scape mechanism, the one that got away type of stuff but she broke things up first for valid reasons, big big heartache but she´s still the love of his life

don´t blame me - ( @ctrlsht ) sugar daddy!jk, ceo!jk, soft yan!jk, obsessive!jk, student!reader, unhealthy behavior on his part, manipulative behavior on her part, jealousy on both parts, he goes a lil too far but reader is bitchy and annoying, he lit gives her everythinggg she asks for, the man is..creazy about her in a very unhealthy way and she takes advantage of that, toxicc

failed quickie - ( @vminizzle ) cowerker jk, suggestive, they´re about to fucc on an elevator but shit happens, he likes his hair pulled!!1!

someone older - ( @bonny-kookoo ) smut, ceo jk, divorced jk, 30 something yo jk, taehyung has a kid, younger oc, its a nice read, would do it again

night after night - ( @brown-bi-beautiful ) smut, angst, crack, fluff, semi-retired fuckboy jk, red flag jk, stalker jk, break up au, lovers to exes to lovers, he fucked around and found out so he is FREAKING ouT, also he is beggING okk.. we love that, he also has a Harley bc he is bad boy™, they make up anyways bc he is pussy whipped.. or in love, whatevs you wanna call it

seven plus one - ( @jvngkoos ) smut, angst, they break up for like a week and that shit got him SIMPING fr, standing under the rain begging and stuff, the man is obsessed, we love it

you good?? - ( @mono-moonchilds ) drabble, smut, "what if you gave jungkook head?" is righT bc i´ve been thinking about it for a min!!! he is mean ok yall know he is a brat buT, the head is too good to do all that, the man was shaKINg for godssakeee, so good he had to answer with a thumbs up bc reader drained him fr, left him so brain dead he couldn´t even speak

[cute-sucker]

note: this is an unofficial part 2 of this boxer!rafe and his sweetheart <3

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

boxer!rafe can't stop thinking about you pregnant, and some would say he got more protective when you did get pregnant.

you weren't showing yet, but he was always keeping a watchful eye on you, protective hand wandering to your midsection.

after the scare you gave him at the games, he watched you all the time, willfully bringing home more food than was needed, feeling willing to come back home when he heard your whines through the phone, and buying you the most beautiful sundresses ever.

sometimes the two of you would spend more time together, looking out the balcony as he smoked a cigarette, and you looked outside with a dazed expression, hand stroking your stomach. he watched the way your nose wrinkled when a trendil of smoke reached your nose.

you made a screwed face, and then looked back at rafe with a pointed look, "i don't like that."

the next day all the cigarettes in your house were gone, and he went back to boxing. it was sweet the way your small proclamation could command him to do anything. sometimes you couldn't help but test it. test how much he loved you, and how willing he was go to. you knew it was bad the way you were acting, but you ached for the attention.

so it was all to plan when you woke up craving a burger.

not just any burger. it needed to be homemade, or even one of the burgers that rafe had made you during your first date. you remember it so clearly, the way his hand scimmed past your back as he helped you chop the cucumbers, a soft hand twirling a tendril of your hair.

it was all in your head, and suddenly you needed the burger with your life. you were pawing at his chest, soft whines leaving your mouth. he woke suddenly, taking a deep inhale of air.

"what's wrong?" he muttered, words slurred with sleep. you couldn't feel but feel bad as you pouted at him. you were wearing a pretty nightgown with a bow at the top. you watched him scan your swollen body.

you were pulling all the routes as you lowered your voice, "i need a burger."

he looked at you incredulously, eyebrows raised putting his rough hand on your shoulder, "right now?"

you frowned, before rubbing your stomach, "yes."

he groaned, falling back to head head first. you bit your tongue to stop giggles from spilling out of your mouth. he was so soft with you now, and you knew that months ago he would never act like this. but you couldn't help but tug at his arm as a grunt fell from his mouth.

"do you really need it, mama?"

now you couldn't stop your smile. you loved it when he called you 'mama,' and you loved the gentle tilt of his mouth when he called you that. and you rested your head back, nodding. finally, he gave an annoyed sigh before getting out of bed.

"goddamn it," he groaned, pulling a cleaner shirt up his head. you rested at his feet watching him put on his clothes. there was something so domestic about the whole scenario. tanyhilll was full of pictures of the two of you, small pieces of the two of you.

finally, as if he realised you were watching him, he scowled looking at you. still in your nightgown with a frenzied look on your face, he seemed to sigh again.

"ah, don't you think you should change?" he murmured, hands skimming over your top. you melted at his touch, practically hopping into his lap with eagerness. he let out a laugh before gently pushing you away, "listen. you gotta change out of that. can't have you looking like that."

you gave him a cheeky smile as if it was the middle of the day instead of three in the morning. somehow you found increasing amounts of energy and rafe was always confused about how you did it all.

"look like what?"

he shook his head, eyes flashing with slight annoyance, "nah. 'm not doing that today. get up bun, 'n go change."

although he sounded demanding you couldn't help but feel your heart drum harder at his words, biting your lip as you pulled on one of his old sweatshirts.

that night you got your burger, and he got you.

please let me know if you'd like to added to the boxer!rafe taglist!!

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook (5) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

slight angst

flirting & implied smut

note: enj <3

//

the crowd is deafening. 

the stomping feet, flashing lights, and the roaring crowd vibrates in jungkook’s chest. people are calling his name, reaching for him as he walks down the tunnel, robe hanging loose over his shoulders, fists tightening at his sides. he’s an amateur boxer, sure, but it’s moments like this where he feels like he’s bigger than his title. 

yet, he can’t help but feel off. 

he’s not thinking about this. not about the audience, not about his opentent, and not about the cameras. 

no.

he’s thinking about you.

as he walks towards the ring, his head turns, scanning, eyes flicking past faces that don’t matter. you promised you’d be here. 

you said you’d be here. 

but he can’t find you in the sea of strangers.

his stomach twists.

instead, his eyes meet namjoon and the rest of his friends, lined up near the ring, waiting for him. namjoon claps him on the back when he passes, murmurs something, but jungkook doesn’t really hear it. he doesn’t really care to. instead, he climbs into the ring, rolling his shoulders, twisting his neck side to side.

 still, he looks for you. 

just one more time.

and fuck. 

you aren’t here. 

you aren’t anyhere. 

his jaw tightens.

jungkook exhales hard, then shrugs off his robe. his mouthguard clicks between his teeth as he grinds down, shifting his weight, slipping into his stance.

if he was losing you tonight, he has to at least win this.

jungkook’s fingers tremble as he fumbles with his car keys.

the sharp jangle of metal cuts through the quiet hum of the rain. he exhales hard through his nose, jaw tight, frustration curling at the edges of his ribs. his body is sore, his adrenaline wearing off in slow, miserable waves, leaving behind exhaustion and a dull ache in his limbs.

but none of that even compares to the ache he feels in his chest.

in his heart.

the back alley behind the boxing arena is dim, the streetlight flickering against the wet pavement, reflecting the sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin. the air is cold, biting at his bruises, but he barely feels it.

he should be relieved.

he should be basking in the victory, letting the rush of his win settle into his bones.

but all he feels is—

his breath stutters.

his head lifts.

and then he sees you.

you’re standing at the end of the alley, bathed in the dull glow of the streetlamp, an umbrella clutched in one hand, a first-aid kit in the other.

your fingers curl tight around the edges, like you’re holding on to something fragile. like you’re bracing yourself.

his heartbeat stumbles, a sharp, sudden ache blooming in his chest.

you came.

you’re here.

he swallows, throat tight, feet rooted to the ground as you step toward him.

finally.

you're the one walking towards him.

immediately, your eyes dart across his face, scanning over every cut, every bruise, your breath hitching when you see the dark swelling along his nose.

“h-hey,” you whisper, voice soft but urgent. you reach out, barely hesitating before your hands find his jaw, tilting his face toward the streetlight. your touch is careful, gentle, but he still winces when your fingers graze his cheek.

you make a sound—something like worry, like frustration. “oh my god, jungkook. your nose—can you breathe okay? are you dizzy? can you—c-can you follow my finger—”

just as you lift your finger and take another step closer to him, he tilts his head and crashes his lips onto yours.

victory.

the first-aid kit slips from your hands, landing in a shallow puddle, but neither of you care. you freeze for half a second—just half—before you’re pressing into him, fingers twisting into the damp fabric of his hoodie.

jungkook groans softly against your lips, something deep and aching unraveling in his chest. he pulls you closer, his hands firm on your waist, his thumb pressing into the dip of your spine like he needs to feel you, needs to anchor himself in you.

he’s still dizzy, but he swears to god it has nothing to do with the fight.

it has all to do with you.

how you kiss him. how you're here. how... how it's you.

when you finally pull away, your breath is unsteady, your fingers still curled in his hoodie.

his lips are swollen, bruised, but he still manages a smirk.

“you have no idea how long i've waited to do that.”

you nod, exhaling shakily. “i think i have an idea."

"yeah?" he chuckles. "you break my heart one minute and piece it back together the next. you sure you want to be all smart with me right now? i'm fragile."

you snort and reach for another kiss.

he gives it to you.

then, you pull away and sigh. "i... i had a patient. and then, when i got here... i couldn't step foot inside. i didn’t have it in me to watch you get beat up,” you murmur, your voice lighter now, teasing but still soft. "b-but i had nam joon text me updates. he told me that you slip away through the back alley and i... i'm here, jungkook."

he can't help but let himself smile.

"i'm glad you are."

you smile at him too. then, you squint and tilt his chin up, not liking the way his face is beginning to swell.

"you look awful."

jungkook scoffs, shifting the weight of the championship belt under his arm. “you should see the other guy.”

you huff a laugh, tilting your head. “should i?”

he swallows, watching the way your lips curl at the edges. he wants to kiss you again. wants to hold you tighter.

but then you sigh, the worry creeping back into your expression.

“come with me,” you say, gentle but firm. “back to the hospital. i need to treat you properly, jungkook. i want to check for a concussion and—”

he smirks. “ah, so you do want to take me home.”

you shoot him a look. "the hospital isn't my home."

"can't you flirt with me? just a little bit? you're nagging."

"i'm not nagging."

"you're nagging."

"i'm worried and i care about you—"

"not as a patient?"

you pause.

"what?" he snarks. "here as a fan?"

your shoulders drop. "jungkook..."

"do you have a crush on me too, doctor?"

you gulp.

he hums, letting his fingers lace through yours.

“laugh," he begs you. "i know you're not here as my doctor. you're here as—"

"ha ha!"

this time, he pauses.

"cute."

jungkook swings his feet off the edge of the patient bed, fingers loosely gripping the hem of his hoodie. his knuckles are wrapped, his nose cleaned and bandaged, but his body still hums with the dull throb of exhaustion.

you’re across the room, focused on his scans, the light from the screen casting a soft glow on your face.

he watches you, the way your lips press together, the way your brows furrow slightly in concentration.

you care so much.

he doesn’t know what to do with it.

all he knows is that he's happy to have you the way he does right now. even if it means spending the first few hours of being with you in a hospital room.

“you are concussed,” you say finally, looking up at him. "i knew it."

he shrugs. “great. it's late and your shift was over hours ago. let’s get you home—”

you shoot him a warning glance.

"i'm not going home."

he looks at you confused. "did you pick up a shift?"

“no... it's just... w-well, don't you want to stay overnight? for observation?” you ask, voice careful, but there’s something stern beneath it. “i don’t want you going home and passing out on your floor or something.”

jungkook hums, tilting his head.

you're so cute when you're worried.

“how about you come home with me then? you could sleep right next to me to monitor my breathing. hell, i'll take off my shirt so it's easier for you to hear my heartbeat. spoiler alert, it'll be beating pretty fast. might even be skipping too... you know? considering you'll be next to me,” he grins, teeth peeking through. “what do you say? for medical purposes, of course.”

you exhale, crossing your arms.

“are you trying to seduce me?”

he shrugs. “only if it’s working.”

you roll your eyes, but he catches the way your lips twitch at the edges.

“you’re concussed,” you mutter. “and your nose—”

his smirk widens.

“my nose?” he echoes, tilting his head as he watches you. “it’s a little busted, yeah. but i’m sure it can do what it needs to.”

you give him a flat look, but he sees the way your breath catches, the way your fingers twitch slightly against your arms.

he grins, hopping off the patient bed in one smooth motion, closing the space between you.

you don’t move away.

his fingers skim your waist as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin.

“jungkook,” you murmur.

he hums. “yes, doctor?”

he kisses you.

your hands press against his chest, like you’re about to push him away, but then your fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie instead.

when you finally pull back, you shake your head.

“nuh-uh,” you mutter, breathless. “you can’t just kiss me every time—”

he kisses you again.

“jungkook—”

your voice is soft and so fucking hard to not cave to. who is he to fight that? instead, he grins against your lips.

“fine, fine,” he huffs, relenting, but his hands stay firm on your waist. his voice drops, something softer beneath the teasing lilt.

“whatever you want, doc,” he murmurs. “i’m all yours.”

pulling away, you blink at him.

"what?" jungkook exhales a quiet laugh, something smug curling at the edges.

"that easy?"

he rolls his eyes at you. "what do you want me to do? resist? not listen to my beautiful brilliant doctor? my woman?"

"your woman?"

"mine."

this time, you roll your eyes.

you both laugh though. then, a moment passes.

"what?" he asks again.

"nothing... it's just..." you scoff at him. "i guess you finally know how to lose."

he rolls his eyes at you for the final time and before you can say anything else—he's already pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

the truth is simple.

jungkook loves his wins. he loves the rush that boxing gives him when he trains and participates in the sport... years of trials and tribulation were time and efforts well spent because he could not be any prouder of being the man he is today.

strong.

determined.

passionate.

... and now, as everything comes down to you—he's more than grateful for the concussions, stitches, and fractures that led him into your care. into your life. into your love.

if losing meant all of this—your laughter, your touch, your voice—then okay. fine.

he'll lose every time.

because, again, the truth is simple. you are his victory.

in other words...

jungkook wins.

[freedomfireflies]

Knockout*

Summary: The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises.

Word Count: 9.4k (jeepers, sorry!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, very brief violence

Your stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in white gauze, but are stained with streaks of red.

And he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

A cup of coffee – black – and a slice of pie.

He’s like clockwork. He comes in exactly five minutes after midnight, takes a seat in his booth, and orders his usual.

Then, he pays his bill, and he leaves.

You’ve grown used to him. Comfortable with the idea of his face and his voice and the strange, but unsettling presence he brings with him.

You find that it’s more unnerving when he’s not here than when he is. 

“Hi, Cherry.”

Your stranger’s voice cuts through the quiet diner and forces your attention from the mug of coffee you’re pouring. 

You glance up, finally able to see his face now that he’s lifted his head. His skin is littered with deep cuts and vicious scratches. There’s a bruise just by his eye that’s dissolving into an unsettling shade of purple and his bottom lip is split down the middle.

Even still, he’s smiling. A gentle upturn that looks almost painful given the cracked fibers and dried blood.

“Hi,” you reply softly, feeling your heart race beneath your chest as his eyes find yours. “Would you like your usual?”

Somehow, his grin gets a bit brighter. As though he’s touched by the question. “Of course,” he answers calmly, in a voice you imagine you’d recognize anywhere. It’s deep and sultry, but it crackles like lightning. Sensual in a way you can’t exactly explain. “What have you made tonight?”

“Chocolate,” you tell him, glancing back toward the counter where the pies are displayed. “With extra whipped cream.”

“Mm.” His hum is playful, and it matches the glint in his eye. “How much extra?”

“As much as you want.”

He laughs, and you swear fairies are born. “Then I will have a slice of your chocolate pie, with as much whipped cream as you’ll allow.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you nod and turn on your heel to grab his order. Setting the coffee pot down before grabbing a small plate.

Once it’s ready, you return, sliding it across the table beside his mug. “Is that all?”

“No,” he says simply, gesturing now toward the seat across from him.

And just like every other time, you feel your pulse jump. “I’m…I need to get back—”

“You don’t need to go anywhere,” he interrupts with a wry grin. “Please?”

Your lips roll into your mouth, and your heart lands in your throat. Your stranger has always been good at getting you to do what he’d like, and it seems tonight is no different. 

So, with a sigh, you glance back toward the kitchen. Checking to make sure you aren’t needed too direly before you slip off your apron and slide into the booth.

“There,” he hums, placing his arms on the table to learn forward. “S’much better, hm?”

And you can’t help but smile as you nod and glance toward your cuticles. Avoiding that vivid green that always seems to send your stomach into a frenzy. 

“How are you?” he asks next, and his voice is soft, as if attempting to draw your attention back.

Braving a glance, you lift your head, and meet his eye. “I’m all right. How are you?”

“Good. Better now.”

The flirtatious remark sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. But you don’t respond, instead reaching out your hand toward his. Allowing your fingers to dance along the gauze that’s wrapped around his knuckles. 

“It’s bad again,” you whisper, and you feel him study you. 

There’s a gentle pause. And then, “Not by much. It’s been worse.”

You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your lungs. Turning his arm around in order to inspect the wounds painted near his wrist. “You promised.”

Even without seeing the full of his face, you catch his expression fall. 

“I know, Cherry,” he murmurs. “And I’m trying, I promise. S’just…not that easy.”

Your throat constricts, growing dry from the implication. “I know.”

It’s almost inaudible, but your stranger still hears it, and he sighs as he slips his fingers between yours. Pulling your focus back to him. 

“You know you don’t have to worry about me,” he says, squeezing your palm as if to cement the point. “M’gonna be okay.”

“Are you?”

He looks gutted. Ashamed of your disappointment. “It’s just something that I have to do.”

“Why?”

He considers this before shaking his head once. “I don’t know.”

It’s the same answer every time. You ask him who does this to him. Why he does this to himself. Where he goes, why he keeps going back.

But he never offers anything concrete. Just enough to keep you hoping.

He leans closer. Desperate to make you understand. “I’m gonna be all right, Cherry. I promised, didn’t I?”

“But this isn’t ‘all right,’” you argue quietly, once again studying his scars. “You hurt yourself. Or you let somebody else hurt you. And I don’t know why.”

He takes in a breath before setting it free. “I don’t know why, either. But it’s not forever. And I promised you I would be okay. So, I will be.”

You release him and pull yourself from his grasp. Creating a physical distance much like his emotional one. 

“I have to be,” he adds, and that charming smirk reappears. Popping a dimple from his cheek. “I’d miss your pies too much.”

Even if your insides have twisted, you can’t help but laugh. “I suppose they’d miss you, too.”

“Good, I would hope. Might be my second-favorite sweet thing here. Only after you.”

Again, his coy remark leaves you entranced. Hands gathering on your lap as you look out through the large window beside you. “You’re quite forward tonight.”

“M’forward every night. You just don’t notice.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. Can’t really help myself, Cherry.”

The familiar nickname feels like home. It was coined after the first night he’d come in. He’d sat in your section – this very booth – and made small talk while you served him. 

He asked for your recommendation, and you suggested one of the desserts. The pies were your specialty, and you made a new one every evening. He seemed charmed by this and ordered two slices.

That night was cherry. He ate every bite between sips of his coffee and compliments to you. Leaving nothing but crumbs once you came to collect his plate.

He told you he loved cherry pie. It was his absolute favorite. But he’d never had a pie as good as yours.

And from that night on, you became his Cherry.

He never asked for your real name, and you never offered. You supposed this was intentional. A way to protect you from whatever life he led outside the diner doors.

And in the few weeks he’s been coming back for yet another slice of your pie, you’ve learned only three things about him:

He always pays with big bills.

He drives a vintage, black ’69 Mustang.

And his name is Harry.

Anything past that you suppose isn’t yours to know. Yet despite that, you feel drawn to your stranger. Even if he only seems to exist after midnight.

“You weren’t supposed to be working tonight,” he says, calling your attention back. 

You glance away from the window just in time to see his frown. “Joshua asked me to cover a few of his shifts,” you explain. “I’ll be here through the weekend.”

“You covered him last week,” he reminds you, with just a touch of disapproval. “And a few weekends before that.”

Your stranger is right, but you merely lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t mind. The extra money is nice, and the night shift is always quiet.”

“Not always,” he retorts, and you notice the pull of his eyebrows. “Not everybody is as kind as you, Cher. Not in this part of town. Or this late.”

You can’t help but smile at his need to shelter you. “I know. But Owen is here, and he makes sure to check on me from time to time.”

However, Harry’s expression seems to settle into something hard and unnerved. “And what if he gets distracted? What if he doesn’t see some loser trying to grab for you? Or talk to you? Or take advantage of you?”

His voice is rising, a gentle but obvious crescendo that turns the heads of the few patrons scattered about the diner. 

You reach for his hand once more, squeezing it hard to implore him to listen. “Then I will use my extensive training as a waitress and kick their ass.”

You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he smiles. Brushing his thumb along your wrist before looking down. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

“I know,” you whisper, dipping down in order to find his eye. “But I’m not the one who needs protecting.”

The air is charged with a sort of tension you can’t explain. He feels so close and yet so very far away. Your heart aches for your stranger, and for his scars that never heal.

“Hey,” calls a loud voice, ringing through the small diner until you and Harry both turn. You find a man sitting near the counter, wearing a camouflage baseball hat and flannel shirt. His beard is long and scruffy, and his expression is wildly annoyed. “Do you fucking work here or not? Been waiting on a refill for ten goddamn minutes.”

Feeling rather embarrassed of the way you’ve neglected the other customers and deserted your post, you quickly slide out of the booth and stand. Cheeks warm and heart racing. “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir.”

You rush to check on the coffee pot near the counter, making sure that it’s hot and fresh before you approach. Then, you tip the spout into his mug, and refill his drink that’s already three-fourths of the way full.

You can see Harry watching you from his spot. A similarly irritated look behind his eye as he studies the man sitting before you.

Once the coffee has been refilled, you nod an apology, and begin to retreat.

“Not so fast,” the customer grumbles, clearing his throat as he straightens up. Forcing you to hesitate. “I want my check. And a slice of pie on the house. For my troubles.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, but you nod again. The Starlight Diner doesn’t exactly offer free pastries, and anything that a staff member has to comp comes out of the employee’s paycheck. 

Granted, one slice won’t set you back too far, but the shame will. The idea that you left a customer waiting while you chatted with a man you hardly know. It’s unprofessional and not at all how you’d like to be perceived in the workplace. As a mindless girl who merely doddles her day away. Fawning over handsome strangers and daydreaming about a life she can’t have.

“Absolutely,” you tell him, rushing to grab him a fresh piece just as Harry begins to stand from the booth. “Will that be all?”

“Don’t be stingy with the whipped cream,” he instructs. “In fact, I’d like to see you put it on in front of me. So I can make sure you aren’t trying to fuck me over.”

The blood drains from your face. You feel humiliated under the warm hue of lights strung up around the restaurant. Grabbing the can of whipped topping in a desperate attempt to please and end the interaction all together.

“Why don’t you watch your fucking tone,” Harry grits, approaching the man from his left.

But the customer merely scoffs, refusing to offer him even a disinterested glance. “Yeah, and why don’t you mind your own business?”

Suddenly, Harry’s hand smacks down onto the counter beside him, inches from his plate while the coffee inside his mug trembles.

You can’t help but jump, arm recoiling away from the pie while the entire diner grows quiet. Everybody’s attention has turned to your stranger. Watching him closely as he leans forward, and dips down to catch the man’s eye.

“Wasn’t a question,” he murmurs darkly. “You watch your fucking tone when you speak to her. Or I’ll watch it for you.”

And you can tell the older gentleman is a bit off-put by Harry’s distressing demeanor. Yet he remains rather calm, clearing his throat again before leaning back. “And what are you gonna do about it, cupcake?”

Harry’s head cocks to the side. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough to force his eyes to yours. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, she’s fine, buttercup,” the customer snorts, spinning around to face you once more. “Now let’s go, princess. I don’t have all fucking night.”

His fingers snap together before he points toward the pie. Instructing you to continue applying the fluffy cream until you hesitantly continue.

The whipped desert sprays out of the can in a steady stream, piling higher and higher atop the pie until it begins to spill over onto the side.

Yet he doesn’t stop you. He simply nods and mutters for you to keep going. To fill the plate until he’s satisfied. 

And you know exactly why he’s doing it. Not to satiate a sweet tooth but to demean you. To force you under his cruel, sadistic stare until you fold like a house of cards.

Your stranger fumes from his place a few feet away. You can tell he’s desperate to intervene, but he obeys your look of frantic insistence. Remaining quiet while you oblige the customer’s request. 

Soon, the can runs out. The last few drops spewing from the nozzle until you’re left with nothing but air and an empty bottle.

With a hitch in your breath, you begin to withdraw your hand. He’ll have to drop this degradation act now, and you hope that he only demands the rest of his check before going about his night.

However, before you can fully retract your arm, a collection of grimy fingers dart out and curl around your wrist. Keeping you in place while the man’s eyes narrow and he hisses, “Did I say you could stop?”

But the moment his palm touches your skin, Harry is stepping forward, grabbing a fistful of his collar, and hoisting him from his seat. Then, he shoves him back against the tile wall just behind him, the connection so forceful, it knocks the gentleman’s hat askew.

The other customers, including yourself, gasp from the sudden act of violence. Watching as Harry steps up to him and sneers in his face with the vilest look of disdain you imagine you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t ever…” he seethes through deep, even breaths, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

And he’s terrifying. So utterly terrifying, with his busted knuckles, his cracked lip, and his bruised jaw. It’s clear he’s a threat, and the man he’s holding goes deathly pale as Harry keeps him trapped against the wall.

All he can do is nod his understanding, choosing to end the fight before it can begin while Harry – after a very long moment – finally lets him go and allows him to flee from the diner.

There’s a stillness in the café that makes your heart race. The few regulars that are left watching on with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. It’s not until Harry shoots them their own venomous glare that they quickly turn away and continue on with their meals.

You slump into the counter, letting the can drop to your side while the sound of a door flinging open echoes from somewhere behind you.

“The hell…is going on?” Owen calls, exiting the kitchen in order to get a better look around. He finds you first, raking his stare up and down your frame before looking to Harry. “What happened?”

“You fucking left her out here, alone,” Harry barks. “That’s what fucking happened.”

Owen’s eyebrows raise as he moves his attention to you. But you quickly side-step into Harry’s path, attempting to end another confrontation before it can begin.

“Just…a customer,” you finally answer softly, reaching for the plate in order to clear your regret away. “It’s fine. He left.”

Your boss nods once. “But he paid first, yes?”

Again, your heart sinks into your toes. Lashes fluttering when you realize his bill will be coming out of your paycheck. “He…um, no, he…he left before I could collect it—”

“Darling,” Owen sighs, and it’s heavy with disappointment, “what did we talk about?”

“I…I know. I’ll…I’ll pay for it—"

Harry’s palm suddenly smacks down onto the counter for a second time this evening. Yet now, there’s a wad of cash beneath his hand. From the looks of it, well over a hundred dollars.

“This will cover it,” he mumbles, turning his unforgiving stare to your boss. “And it’ll cover the rest of her shift, too. She’s done.”

With that, his fingers are wrapping around your upper arm before you can even wrap your head around his offering. Blinking wildly while Owen glances from the cash to you in an effort to piece together Harry’s instruction.

 But your stranger leaves you no room for questioning or bargaining. He’s pulling you out the diner door and into the dark parking lot before you can even bid your boss goodbye.

He strides between the cars before hooking a left around the building. Leading you toward the back alleyway where he normally keeps his car, the wet pavement squeaking beneath his sneakers.

 And during this fervent stalking, his fingers slide down from your upper arm and into your hand. Grasping it tightly as if to make sure he won’t lose you.

Perhaps a part of you would like to feel miffed or ashamed of what just took place, but you can’t seem to fault him for his reaction. He’s always been nothing but kind to you – even if he doesn’t always lend that kindness to others. Expressing his desire to protect you, even if he doesn’t know you.

You wonder if this need to defend is part of the reason why you’ve only ever seen him covered in scars and bruises. If he comes to the diner in the dead of night in order to watch over you. Like a guardian angel or vigilante. 

Right now, however, he disappears into the shadows, gently pulling you along with him until you see his car only a few feet away. He releases you at the same time that he releases a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark curls as his hood is pushed down. 

“Harry…” you begin quietly, tentative of startling him.

“I’m sorry,” he says before you can even finish. “M’sorry, I lost my temper. I know.”

You watch the way he turns away from you. Bracing himself against the hood of the Mustang while dropping his head in what you only assume is remorse.

And your heart aches for him. For the gentleman that lives beneath the outlaw. “Harry,” you whisper again, stepping closer in order run your fingers down his back. Feeling the way his muscles tense before melting beneath your touch. “I’m not mad, I promise.”

“I know you don’t like it when I interfere,” he mumbles, and it’s almost swept away by the cold, early morning air. “But he fucking touched you, and I—”

“I know,” you interrupt tenderly. “I know, and I’m not mad. I’m glad you did it. I’m glad you were here.”

He hesitates, face turning toward his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You allow your chest to meet his spine. “Always feel safer with you.”

He exhales deeply, releasing something heavy before he’s turning around, and reaching for your cheeks. The soft, stained gauze slides against your skin, and his touch is firm. Keeping you in his embrace while he gazes at you warmly. 

“Are you all right, Cherry?” he asks now, thumbs sweeping beneath your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

Your head shakes. “No. Scared me a little, but I’m okay.”

It’s clear he doesn’t like this, that familiar frown reforming as he holds you a bit tighter. “He never should have spoken to you like that. Much less put his fucking hands on you—”

“I know, but it’s okay,” you interject again, hoping to ease his stress. “I’m okay because you were here.”

And this is the only thing that seems to calm him. That familiar smile of his the perfect remedy for such a strange night. You don’t want to tell him how often this happens. Especially during the later shift. But that’s what you get for working at a 24-hour diner, and you’re starting to think this is merely part of the job.

And truth be told…you think he already knows.

His forehead meets yours, and you can’t help but grin yourself. Grateful for the comfort he provides – stranger or not.

“Speaking of which…why are you here?” you ask gingerly. “I thought you didn’t come in on my days off?”

“I don’t. But…I saw your car.”

“Oh…how?”

His smirk transforms into something coy. “I was driving by.”

“Oh, really?” you tease. “On purpose?”

The smile slips now, a more reverent look in his eye as he nods. “I like to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”

And maybe in any other universe, this would strike you as odd. Perhaps even unsettling or disconcerting. 

But even if you don’t know him, you know him. You know his intentions have only ever been pure, and even without having much more than his name, he has always made you feel safe. 

You choose to believe in him. In the goodness of your stranger and the care he provides. Inside and out.

“You do?” you murmur, allowing your hands to rest on his chest. “How often?”

A beat. Then, “…every night.”

The alley grows quiet. Scattered streetlamps reflect off the pools of water that are sprinkled across the cement, warming the dark night with their sepia-toned beams.

And you stand there, just you and him, while the weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders.

But instead of chastising him or asking any further questions, you push yourself up onto your tiptoes…and kiss him.

It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and you know, undoubtedly, that it won’t be your last. Your stranger has been stealing your kisses for weeks now.

And you suppose stealing isn’t exactly a fair comparison. After all, you’ve nearly pleaded with him to kiss you every time he’s come in. 

Not that there’s much need for begging when he’s so willing to offer them to you. Sneaking you away the moment your shift is through. Chasing you through the parking lot…pulling you into the backseat of his car.

It makes you giddy. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the handsome senior. Slipping into the shadows where he waits. Letting him hold you, kiss you, touch you.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know more than his name or what he does behind closed doors. You choose to share these special – albeit somewhat scandalous – moments with the mysterious gentleman in booth 505.

“My sweet girl,” he breathes against your lips. The wonderfully delicious nickname melting on your tongue. “Missed you.”

You want to remind him that it’s only been about two days, but you can’t. Because you missed him, too.

“And m’so sorry,” he says next, trailing his quick but fervent kisses down your neck. “So fucking sorry for being so bad. Never wanna scare you or make you anxious.”

A soft, delicate noise bleeds from your throat, and you cling to his much stronger frame as though you’re afraid you’ll simply disappear without him.

“Wanna make it up to you,” he whispers. “Will you let me, Cherry? Let me be good again?”

You nod, needing him to keep himself as close to you as he’ll allow. You want to settle him in your lungs, keep him snug inside in your chest. Against your heart.

And a large part of you just wants to keep him…always.

“Let me make it better,” he says, hands dropping to your hips in order to push you toward his car. Placing you against the door in order to trap you and deepen his kiss. “Let me be good, sweet girl. Be good for you.”

And he’s always good. Good to you, good for you. It doesn’t matter how he is with everybody else. 

“Please?” he asks again, leaning back just far enough to catch your eye. “Will you let me?”

He wants your explicit consent. Wants you to say the words before he continues, and you appreciate this stricter habit. 

“Yes,” you manage to answer, exhaling the word with the little strength you still possess. “Yes, please—”

He takes your hand before you can finish, guiding you over toward the backseat before swinging the door open and stepping aside.

“Lay down, baby,” he mumbles gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while guiding you in. “On your back, okay? Want you comfy.”

You do as instructed, dipping down into the vehicle before settling into the soft, leather seat. Flipping over until you can find a position you like. 

Harry is quick to follow, landing between your thighs before pulling the door shut. You both maneuver until he can hover his body above yours, keeping you beneath him as he runs a palm up the side of your leg.

His warm hand feels good against your bare skin, the dress you’re required to wear as part of your waitressing uniform bunching just at the top of your knees from the new position. But it’s like ecstasy, heating up your goose bumped skin from the nippy air outside. 

“How’s this, hm?” He squeezes your hip. “You all right, Cher?”

You rest your head against the door and nod, fingers already itching to reach for him again. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“Promise?”

“Mhm. Promise.”

The side of his mouth curls up, and it makes your stomach flutter. “Good girl. Gonna go slow, okay? Earn my forgiveness.”

He continues the lazy strokes to your thigh, falling all the way down to your ankle before going back up. It is slow, and it almost drives you mad. Because he knows what you want. And he knows just how badly you want it.

Things with Harry never go further than you. Something you’re almost tempted to find odd, but he’s a giver. That was made clear from the first time. He derives more pleasure out of your orgasms than he apparently does his own. He only ever wants to touch you, taste you, feel you. It’s never about him. 

You often wonder if there’s a deeper reason for this. If he’s denying himself release on purpose or if he’s merely terrified of getting close. And occasionally you wonder if he simply just doesn’t want to fuck you, but something tells you that’s not the case.

Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to ask.

Tonight, however, it seems he’s still determined to put the attention on you. Long fingers gently scratching at your leg until you shiver. It makes him grin.

“Can I see you, baby?” he asks softly, letting his eyes trail beneath the hem of your dress. “See how pretty you are?”

Again, you can only whine pitifully as you motion your head up and down quickly. Wanting to succumb to his strong touch. Only feeling grounded if he’s there to hold you.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he breathes, using his scarred hands to push your outfit up a bit higher. Revealing your quivering stomach and the delicate pair of panties around your hips. 

They’re nothing special. In fact, you imagine they’re rather embarrassing. A simple, tan fabric that does absolutely nothing to make your pussy look more desirable. 

Perhaps it’s a little silly, but you like to look nice for him. On the nights you know he might be coming to see you (which has been every night you’ve worked since you met), you tend to pick prettier pairs. 

Some with lace, some with little bows. Sweeter colors, sexier colors. Anything that might make him smile.

But you hadn’t anticipated seeing him tonight, and now, you almost want to shy away. Lashes fluttering as you look up toward the roof of his car.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Nor does he seem to care about the color around your waist, his eyes growing wide as his attention glues to the mesmeric sight before him. Pink, bruised lips parting with wonder while he moves closer. 

“Cherry,” he exhales, the feel of his breath sweeping against your bent knee, “missed you so much. Been forever, hm?”

You nod again, braving another glance just in time to see his hand lower. And then you feel him. Feel his thumb pressing gently into the front of your underwear, just above where your clit lies.

Your entire body seems to spark to life like the flicker of a flame. And you gasp, subtly bucking up into his touch in search of more. In search of him.

He smiles. “S’it feel good, honey?”

You let out a soft breath, chest nearly caving in as you whisper, “Harry…”

He looks up, eyes flicking to yours as that coy smirk grows. “What, baby? You okay?”

Of course you’re okay. He knows you’re okay, but you’ve noticed he likes to hear you say it. He likes to know he’s making it better for you. That he’s helping, that he’s doing good.

When you don’t answer, he returns to your pussy, fingers strumming up and down your covered cunt like he’s playing an instrument. Tuning your body to his needs. 

“Can I touch you?” he asks now, dipping down to nudge his nose beneath your jaw. Pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “Wanna touch you…be good for you, Cher. Was so bad…just wanna make it better.”

He’s attempting to atone for what he did in the diner. To apologize, offer his remorse.

And even if you know he has nothing to apologize for, you can’t find it in you to deny him. Reaching up to tangle your fingers in his curls as you tug him closer. Kissing him fiercely.

He’s hard on himself. You know he is. You don’t know why. You don’t know what the cause is. But you can see the repercussions. They’re painted all over his body, and he wears them proudly. 

He curses against your mouth, and you’re reminded then of his busted lip. Instantly pulling away while you mumble an apologetic, “I’m sorry. I forgot—”

“No,” he nearly groans, slipping his other hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I promise. I like it.”

His kisses become hard again. Anxious, desperate, and rushed. As though he needs you in order to survive. His nose knocking into yours from the way he readjusts himself. Wanting to take you deeper, really taste you. 

You’ve never been so happy in your life.

He only pulls away in order to slip your panties down your thighs, pushing them to your ankles until he can really see you.

His entire expression softens the moment his eyes find you. Filled with a certain kind of hope and indulgence as he gazes at you almost tenderly. Unable to resist reaching out and letting his finger brush down your folds. 

You make another noise, but he doesn’t notice this one. Too content to be touching you. Feeling you. Spreading you open just to watch you drip.

“So fucking good to me,” he murmurs. “You know that, sweet girl? So perfect for me. Exactly what I need and far more than I deserve.”

You aren’t sure what he means, but the implication makes you frown. Pulling on his hair a bit harder while he moves to your clit and begins to press down.

The pressure of his thumb against the more sensitive nerves leaves you breathless. Squirming beneath him from the rush of pleasure that only serves in making you needier. 

“Always so warm,” he muses quietly. Almost as if to himself. “So soft. So sweet. Can’t ever get enough of you.”

It makes your head spin the way he seems to adore you. The way he talks about your body as if he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to behold it. To feel it, to get to indulge in it. Worshiping you like you’re his religion.

He begins to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. Kissing you once more in order to taste your whines and feed off your desperation. Wet noises fill the car. Not just from your pussy, but from his frantic kisses that echo between the foggy windows. 

It makes you shiver, loving the way he nips at your bottom lip just to leave you restless. The way he whispers your nickname before moving to your neck, pulling your skin between his teeth and smoothing over the mark with his tongue.

He goes faster. Chasing after your whimpers and the way you arch your body into his. Loving how excitable you get from only a few flicks of his thumb across your sensitive clit.

Then, he slows down. Exhaling a heavy breath as if bracing himself to edge you. Like it hurts him more than it hurts you.

And you mewl pitifully as you cling to his broader frame and tug him down into your arms. “Harry—”

“I know,” he coos, and it’s gentle the way he speaks. Sympathetic almost. “I know, sweet girl. But m’not done with you yet. Just wanna keep you a little longer. Is that okay?”

You bury your face in his neck and make another noise. Something akin to his name that gets lost in the way he curses.

“It’s okay,” he tries again, allowing you to use his body like a lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. All right? M’right here, I’ve got you.”

He proves this by resuming his sweet torture. Circling the nerves a time or two more before moving down. Smoothing through your folds and lowering toward the pooling of arousal that waits for him. 

You hear him hum. “So precious. S’this all for me, then? Mine to play with? Mine to taste?”

You whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” as quickly as your mouth will permit, and he chuckles. 

The tip of his finger dips inside, presumably to collect everything you have to offer him before he’s lifting it toward his lips.

And you settle back against the door to watch. Enchanted by the way he places you on his tongue and sucks. His lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing from the taste.

You don’t imagine you’ll ever get used to watching him do that. After all, you’ve never been particularly…unbothered by the idea of somebody tasting you. Not even with past partners. You get too caught up in your own head. Worried about the taste, the feel, the smell.

Truth be told, most of the men you’ve been with before were never interested in you. They wanted what you could give them. And then they wanted out.

By all accounts, Harry is nothing like anyone else you’ve ever known. Not just because of the mystery that follows his persona, but because of his endless attention to you. To what you need, what makes you feel good. 

He devotes every second to making you feel like you’re God’s gift to Earth. A gift to him. Praising you for simply existing. Indulging in your taste as though you're the sweetest dessert he’s ever had.

Like now, while a deep moan reverberates from the depths of his chest. Filling the car and your ears like music, making your thighs clench around his hips.  

“S’why I call you my sweet girl, you know that?” he murmurs, sucking on his fingers until you’re sure there’s nothing left. And even then some. “So fucking sweet for me. Can’t ever get enough. Gonna get me addicted, baby. Might already have.”

The moment he takes his hand back out, you’re lifting up, and pressing your mouth to his. And you don’t even care if you can taste yourself on his tongue because all you really taste is him.

But the mixture of him, and you, and the slight tang of blood from the busted fibers of his lip is euphoric. Strange but lovely in a way you hadn’t anticipated. 

He seems to understand this despondency, growing a bit more frantic in his need to please. No longer focused on edging as he drops his fingers back to your cunt while his other hand moves for the buttons on your chest.

He pops them free one by one until your equally plain bra is revealed to him. But again, he doesn’t take notice of such things. Instead swallowing thickly at the sight of your breasts that swell behind the cups.

He kisses you again. And again, and again. Then he moves to your cheek and down your neck. Trailing his tongue toward your collarbone and along your sternum. 

You feel restless. Waiting for something – for him. You already know how magical his touch is. You already know the kind of pleasure he provides, and it nearly drives you mad to simply sit in anticipation. Stuck on his time.

Eventually he reaches your chest, lips moving for the curve of your tit before he’s making another noise and sucking into the tender flesh. Nipping at it, pulling it between hungry teeth. Smoothing over the marks with the warmth of his mouth while you reel.

Your hands disappear back into his hair. Stroking the curls almost fondly, nails lightly scratching at his scalp.

He’s always seemed to enjoy this. Instructing that you pull on him as hard as you’d like. That you tug and scratch. That you use him to inflict your pain and your pleasure. That you think of him first and foremost.   

Now is no different. He nuzzles himself further into your breasts while simultaneously sighing with contentment at the way your hand feels against his head. The way you keep him close to your heart. 

You’d keep him forever if you could.

You hardly even notice the way his finger has slipped inside. The way it strokes your delicate walls that flutter from the intrusion, tensing before relaxing in order to allow him in.

“There,” he whispers, pleased with the way your body obeys him. “S’okay. Gonna make it better. I promise.”

And you know he will.

“So tight today, baby,” he says, leaving another kiss to the swell of your chest. Open-mouthed and messy. “Has it been that long?”

You don’t know. You can’t remember the last time he touched you, although you’re almost sure it hasn’t been more than a week. The two of you have become rather insatiable for each other. Chasing after a kind of release you only seem to find within the hands of the other.

Those beautiful green eyes flitter up to yours, studying you closely. Benevolently. “Have you not been taking care of yourself, sweet girl?”

You take a moment to consider what he means before you feel your cheeks warm. Offering him nothing more than a quick shake of your head.

He frowns, brows pulling together. “Why not, hm? Thought you promised you’d try for me. Help make things better when I’m not around.”

You shrug, growing a touch embarrassed. “I know, but…it’s not the same. Don’t like it.”

“Is that right?”

Another shake. “Get bored.”

“Bored,’ he repeats, and there’s a certain glint in his eye. But instead of disappointed, he seems empathetic. “Cause it’s not the same, yeah? Your fingers too small?”

Now you nod, making a noise of agreement. 

He nods along with you, beginning to smirk. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bet it’s just so frustrating, isn’t it? Trying to find all your sweet, little spots, but just not quite being able to reach?”

You cling to him as he stretches you a bit further. Doing everything you can’t do for yourself. Effortlessly curling his finger into that one spot until you begin to shake.

“Just like that, hm?” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “S’that what you can’t find, baby? S’that what’s so achy?”

And it is. It’s so infuriatingly sore that it almost makes you cry. Wishing you could chase after that feeling until your heart gives out. 

“I bet.” More kisses to your chest. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix it, okay? Make it all better again.”

“Please?” you whimper, nails scratching down his broad back. Attempting to pull him closer. 

“Mhm.” He leans forward and brings his lips to yours now. His kiss quick but full of promise. “Always gonna take care of you.”

He begins to thrust the longer digit in and out. Slow enough to work you up but fast enough to leave you wanting more. Coaxing the muscles open before bringing a second finger into play.

The sounds of your wetness being pushed and pulled by his hand are sinful. Sending a chill down your spine and directly into your cunt.

You moan when you feel them, writhing a bit beneath his body until he has to press his leg into yours to keep you still.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he mumbles. Leaving another kiss below your jaw. “Know you can take it, baby. You always do. Don’t you?”

And even if that’s true, you aren’t opposed to the slight sting. Instead invigorated by it and the way he uses great care with you. Wanting to make sure you’re all right so he can please you the way he wants.

Yet somehow, it’s still not enough. Even with the way he curls, and pumps, and thrusts those beautiful digits into your pussy, you feel empty. Barely scratching the surface of that itch as he presses his chest to yours to calm you.

Your noises are becoming more pathetic. Your entire being heaving with the weight of promised pleasure in a way you can’t seem to understand.

His thumb presses into your clit every few minutes, attempting to guide you closer to your release, and it works. The combination making your stomach coil until you nearly see stars. Every cell in your body tightening.

“You close, Cherry?” His free hand moves for your face. Palm pressing into your jaw as the bandage on his knuckles sweeps across your cheek. “Hm? You gonna cum for me?”

And you are. You are, you are. You can almost taste it. Can feel it bubbling up from between your thighs, ready to unravel like the seams on your favorite sweater. 

“Yes,” you gasp, arching from the leather seat. “Yes, please…please don’t stop. Please—”

“Won’t stop,” he promises in a soothing tone, lips ghosting atop yours. “Never stop, I promise. M’gonna be right here until you do, okay? Go ahead. I’ve got you.”

And this is all you need. It happens suddenly and yet far too slowly. Pulling you apart from the inside out. 

You moan so loud, your chest shakes. Eyes rolling back and nails scratching down his spine as it hits you. 

Instantly, he moves his hand from your jaw to your lips. Palm pressing hard against your mouth in order to silence you as he whispers, “Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? It’s okay, you’re all right. Just let go—"

And you do. Allow your body to deplete itself of all energy as he works you through every goddamn second. Dragging it out as far as it’ll go. Increasing the speed of his flicks and thrusts. Pumping your orgasm out of you until it sits in his waiting hand.

“Good,” he breathes before finally removing his hand in order to kiss you quickly. Fingers squeezing the back of your neck as he brings you closer. “So fucking good, there you go. S’okay. Keep going, come on.”

And it’s so good, so wonderful. You feel like you’re floating, high up into the clouds. You decide then that he must be an angel, carrying you in his wings and setting you on a sunset.

But you’re still squirming, seemingly discontented, and he notices far too easily. “You okay, Cher?”

“More,” you whisper faintly. “More…please…”

“More,” he echoes. “My sweet girl wants more. More what, hm? What do you need?”

“More,” is all you say. Once again wiggling your hips down as if to sink his fingers in further. “More, Harry, please.”

“Oh. You want another one. Is that it?”

You nod silently, too strung-out to think in coherent sentences.

He chuckles again, kissing your other cheek before pinching your chin. “All right. Give you as many as you want, baby.”

Feeling incredibly grateful, you allow your trembling limbs to fall slack. Once again settling beneath him as he works to get you to your second.

But even as he resumes the languid but practiced thrusts of his fingers, you feel unsatiated. Eager for something else, but you aren’t sure what.

He realizes before you do. “S’not enough, is it?” he coos. “Need something bigger, don’t you?” 

That’s what it is, and you nod eagerly as your nails scratch down the sleeves of his hoodie. 

“Think you can take something bigger? Think you can take another finger, baby?”

Another nod. Faster, more fervent. Eyes pleading with him to give you anything he has to offer.

He obliges this, glancing down before lining his fingers up, and slowly slipping all three inside.

This stretch is a bit more prominent. He’s deliberately gentle, never giving you more than he assumes you can handle. 

And he watches you closely. Searching for any grimaces or winces of discomfort. 

When he finds none, he seems relieved, kissing up from your chest to your throat once more. “Good girl. There you go.”

You begin to writhe a little more ardently until he has to bring his other hand to your knee in order to press it down into the seat. Keeping you spread and still until you settle.

“Easy,” he coos gently, placing some of his weight onto your thigh. “Gonna have to be good, baby, and relax for me. Let me make you feel good, okay?”

You want to obey. You do, really. But the overstimulation and sensitivity from your first orgasm is almost too much. Making you choke on the heated air until you can hardly breathe.

“Like it when I take care of you, don’t you?” he asks you now. Licking a stripe along your jaw. “Like it when I steal you away from them?”

He’s right, you do. Perhaps you shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way he makes you feel as though you deserve more than this. As though you’re meant for more than the diner. He makes you feel invincible.

“Maybe one day I’ll take you away,” he decides. “Fucking take you from them and make you mine. Forever. For always.”

And you decide you like the sound of that.

Another moment of his strenuous torture passes before he leans back to watch. And you notice something in his face. Utter fascination and lust over the way your body bends to his will. Over the way it stretches around his fingers, the way he pulls it open.

He releases a deep, coarse groan through clenched teeth. Fixated on the way his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Taking me so well, baby. Know you’d take my cock, too, wouldn’t you?”

You whimper miserably, undone by the thought. You can’t deny that you’ve wondered what he’d feel like. All of him, stretching you open. Fucking into you while leaving you a panting mess.

You often imagine what he’s like in bed. In an actual bed and not in the backseat of his car or yours. What he might be like when he’s truly lost himself to the pleasure. Guiding his hips to yours, bending you into a hundred and one positions meant just for his indulgence. 

You wonder if he’d be just as careful as he is now. Just as devoted to you. If he’d be hard and fast or soft and slow. If he has dirty kinks, secret fantasies. If he likes the lights on or off. If he likes the bed or if he likes it up against the wall. 

You hope one day you get to find out. 

“Think you would, yeah?” he continues, sliding his digits all the way to the knuckle. The fibers of the gauze brushing against your clit. “Know you would. Be so good for me. This sweet little pussy would treat me so well, wouldn’t it?”

You nod quickly, pouting at him anxiously.

“I know,” he tuts, finally leaning back over to kiss you again. “Know you’d be such a good girl for me. Let me work you open until you could fit me…let me stretch you just right.”

You reach out for his wrist in search of something to squeeze, and it makes him chuckle. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you moan.

“Might take a while,” he muses. “Might take hours. Days. I’ll have to just keep you in my bed until you can fit me, hm?”

He attempts to pull away, but you chase after him. Looping an arm around his neck in order to yank him back to you. 

His smirk feels good against your lips. “M’not going anywhere, sweet girl. Just like to watch you. Bet it’d be fun to watch you take my cock, wouldn’t it? Watch it sink right into this tight little hole.”

He’s evil. Absolutely sadistic and it makes you groan against his tongue until he has to soothe you.

“I know, baby. One day,” he breathes. “I promise. M’gonna take you away and do it right. Make it worth it.”

The thrusting of his fingers becomes more poignant. Enough to drive a plethora of desperate moans from your chest as he nuzzles his nose below your jaw and simply breathes.

“Gonna worship you. Give you everything you deserve.” He sucks in a quiet inhale before dancing his lips along your throat. “Have you sit on my face until I can’t breathe.”

The image has your eyes rolling back. Even if you aren’t sure you’d ever feel comfortable doing so, you’re enamored by the idea. Of the thought of him holding onto your thighs, pressing you down to his mouth. Completely controlling you. 

“Can never breathe when I’m with you, anyway,” he whispers, and you almost don’t catch it. You wonder if you were meant to. “M’gonna do it right, sweet girl. I promise.”

And this is the vow that pulls you through to the other side. Large digits curling up into that one spot that makes your legs shake and you’re falling apart for the second time.

But he still doesn’t stop. Stroking, pressing, pumping even after the tears have begun to slip from your eye. 

“Keep going, there you go. Does it feel good? Feel so good, cumming all over my hand?”

And it does, but you can’t exactly answer. Can’t seem to do anything but cry out as you ride the wave and his fingers as though your life depends on it.

“Doing so good,” he murmurs gently, raising up to kiss you once more. Swallowing your pitiful mewling. “So fucking good, baby. M’so proud of you. Took me so well. So beautiful when you cum, Cherry, you know that? Could watch you forever.”

The sentiment makes your entire body grow warm. You’ve always wondered what you might look like when you orgasm, and truth be told, you imagine it’s not very pretty.

But to hear him say it now – so earnestly – makes your stomach wrench. Nails curling into the seat below as you lift off the leather and knock your chest into his.

He holds you as tight as he can before slowly pulling his fingers out. Relieving you from the overstimulation before putting you back in his mouth. Sucking until a string of saliva drips down his into the gauze on his knuckles. Painting it a much prettier picture than the red has.

After swelling every drop of you with a lewd groan, he finally pulls his hand out, and takes you into his arms. Kissing you through the remnants of the blissful rush.

“So good,” he says again, face burying back into your neck while stroking your thigh with his soaked fingers. “Always make me so proud.”

Your limbs tangle with his as you both slouch into the backseat. Allowing your heart beats to synchronize into one, steady rhythm. 

And once they have, you begin to grin. “Harry?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

He exhales a soft laugh before leaning back onto his knees to get a good look at you. “What for, sweet girl?”

“Just for…this, I suppose,” you mumble shyly. “For all of it. Tonight. Standing up for me and…you know, this part.”

His chuckle becomes a bit more smug. “Are you thanking me for making you cum?”

“I’m…trying. I think.”

“Hm.” His grin is playful and so damn charming as he dips back down to hover his lips near yours. “Don’t have to thank me, Cherry. Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”

His teasing remark makes you giggle, and you kiss him hard before he has the chance to leave you again.

You kiss for a while. A long while. Until you can hardly breathe, your muscles beginning to ache and your eyelids beginning to grow heavy from the lack of sleep in this early morning hour. 

It’s not until you actually yawn that Harry finally remembers to pull himself away and reach for the panties around your ankles. “Shit, it’s late, isn’t it? Know I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”

With a quick shake of your head, you push up onto your elbows. “No. I’m fine, I promise. Just…cumming makes me sleepy, I guess. And you’re so warm. It’s nice.”

This makes him smile again, and that dimple of his makes your heart ache. “You know I’d keep you in this car until the sun came up if I could.”

“I know.” Your fingers outstretch for his hoodie, tangling into the material on his stomach while he guides your underwear back up around your hips. “Maybe one day, yeah?”

His expression softens, and you almost swear you see a flash of sadness behind that sage green. “Yeah. Maybe.”

It’s quiet as you rebutton your dress and pull the hem back down. And even quieter as Harry opens the door and slips out of the car, extending his hand toward you in order to help you out as well.

But once you’ve straightened up and turned to face him, you see that something has changed. A look of longing that hadn’t been there before etched between those scarred features.

His thumb brushes just beneath your eye and then down to your lips. Tracing the lines and dips before he sighs and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Are you gonna be all right?”

You place your hand over his and squeeze. “Are you?”

Another deep breath. Heavier and more forlorn. “You know I’ll try.”

“Promise?”

His forehead meets yours, and you both still. “I promise.”

And you choose to believe him.

You say goodbye, and regretfully let him go. Shaky legs carrying you back to your car as his eyes follow you all the way. Making sure you get there safely before you take off down the road and leave him behind.

A few nights later, you’re back for your next shift. And truth be told, you’re almost excited. Because having to go so long without him feels like a form of punishment. Like your days aren’t nearly as bright without him. And neither are your nights.

You can’t help but count the seconds as you go about your evening. Unable to distract yourself with the pastries no matter how hard you try. Thoughts drifting back to those chocolate curls and that devilish smile.

When midnight strikes, you feel relieved. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you grab your notepad and slip out of the kitchen. Ready to greet him in his favorite booth.

But the moment you slip past the door, you find that the diner is empty. Not a single customer to greet you as you scan the floor in search of that familiar face. Even a glimpse of his shoes or the sound of his voice.

But the booth is empty, the diner is quiet, and it’s 12:06. 

Your stranger isn’t here.

I know not too much has happened yet but we are building up to tons more smut and plot and angst and fluff, I swear!! 😭💞

Next Part:

~ Whiplash*

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge

[sonarspace]

KNOCKOUT KISS, SUGURU GETO

CONTENT: friends to lovers. (boxer!suguru x reader). slight violence. nsfw! (not proofread) WC: 6K A/N: back after a long break! hope you guys like this <3

☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸

suguru sits on the bench in his locker room after his boxing match. his face covered in cuts and bruises and his body batttered. despite that, a delirious smile takes place on his face as you approach him with antiseptic swabs and bandages.

his smile is so bright that for a moment, you forget he's covered in blood. "looks worse than it is darling," he rasps, his voice hoarse from exhuastion.

you stand in front of him, carefully tending to his wounds. "you're going to be the death of me, suguru," you mutter, gently dabbing a cut near his lip. he presses his lips against your finger teasingly, earning a glare from you.

"you worry too much," he chuckles. "you've got the money, i don't get why you're still doing this," you retort with a huff.

"adrenaline baby. no high compares to the one i get after winning. hearing the crowd cheer for me. hearing you cheer for me," he smiles his hand rubbing mindless patterns on your waist, his touch warm against your skin.

your eyes lock with his. you gulp, feeling the weight of his stare. you take a step back, your gaze shifts to the wound you've patched. "all done," your voice is slightly unsteady — courtesy of suguru geto's stare.

"thanks, sweet thing," suguru says softly. "let's grab a few drinks and play some pool" he suggests. you could never understand how he could easily bounce back after a fight like the one he just had, acting so casual. sensing your worry, he adds. "i'm fine, i swear".

"i have a date," you reply, your lips pressed into a thin line.

"great. another guy i have to compete with for your attention," he grins, his tone playful yet tinged with jealousy.

"his name is mark. he recently signed a deal with dad. dad said to give it a shot, said it could be good for the company." you sling your purse over your shoulder.

"so a douche bag?" he teases.

"suguru! he's actually sweet. don't be mean," you defend your date. he huffs, rolling his eyes. "when's your next match?" you ask, trying to change the topic.

"next month," he says, eyeing you intensely. "then i'll see you next month," you reply with a warm smile. he lets out a dramatic sigh and stands, his tall frame looming over you. "stay safe," he murmurs, his voice laced with concern and affection.

"don't drink too much. and don't let him push you into doing anything you're not comfortable with," he warns.

"are you done, dad?" you tease, but suguru's expression stays serious. he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your hair and cups your cheek. "just lookin' out for you," he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"see you champ," you say with a smile moving toward the door. suguru nods in return. you step out of the room and take a deep breath.

a month later

the roar of the crowd fills the arena as suguru steps into the ring. he waves at the crowd and then his eyes land on you. you're wearing a sleek black bodycon dress that hugs your curves jut right. his smile fades into a scowl as he notices the man beside you. he quickly masks it, turning his attention back to his opponent.

they touch gloves and return to their respective corners. the bell rings, silencing the crowd. suguru's focus narrows down to the man standing in front of him. whispered conversations flow through the crowd as they wait for the first punch to land.

suguru's gloved hand raises and connects with his opponent's jaw., and the crowd erupts into a chant of his name. but only one voice—yours, matters to him. "YES SUGURU! LET'S GO!!" you cheer.

mark beside you is taken aback by the fervor of your cheer. he claps politely. your squeeze your boyfriend's arm, your gaze fixed on your best friend in the ring.

it's the final round. the decider of the match. suguru is worn out, breathing heavily, his shoulders slumped and his lip cut once again. he sits in his corner taking deep, ragged breaths. his eyes find you again, watching as you whisper something to mark and share a laugh. it's a punch to the gut, more painful than any of the hits he's taken tonight.

the bell rings and both fighters raise their gloves. suguru's attention shifts from his opponent to you. he sees your boyfriend's hands wrapped around your waist. your back pressed to his chest as you cheer, mark's lips pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

POW!

suguru's body jolts back as his face turns from the force of the jab. his ear rings and his vision blurs momentarily. the arena falls into a hushded silence. "suguru!" you shout, reaching out instinctively as if your hand could somehow bridge the distance and stop the blow.

"mark, wait. let me go," your voice quivers with desperation as suguru's figure wavers before you. mark's grip tightens, holding you firmly against him. "where would you go?" he taunts, the amusent in his voice deepening your frustration.

the metallic taste of blood fills suguru's mouth. he spits it out, straightens up and touches his jaw, trying to refocus. his gaze drifts between you and his opponent. he notices your anxious expression and the way you're straining against mark's grasp.

mark's hold on you slackens, allowing you to step away. but before you can react, he grabs your chin and pulls you into an unexpected kiss. your eyes dart between you're boyfriend and suguru, who narrows his gaze and then delivers a hard blow, knocking out his opponent.

as suguru's eyes meet yours, he smiles through blood stained lips. strands of his hair fall loose from his thight bun, framing his face. he raises his fist in victory and the crowd erupts in applause.

you pull back from the kiss, clapping and cheering his name along with the crowd. he stands there grinning, looking like an angel—a bloody and sweaty angel. your bloody, sweaty angel. the thought tugs at your heart with a bittersweet pang at the reminder of what could've been, but you quickly push it away.

your boyfriend squeezes your shoulders, "looks like he won after all, huh?" he says, half amused.

"he always does," you smile, proudly. "let's go to the bar. i'll ask him to come meet us over there."

you make your way to the bar, exctied to introduce suguru to the man you're quickly getting close to. you wait for twenty minutes and then text suguru. "hey. you coming? we're at the bar."

he sighs as he reads the message. his body aches, his head throbs, and perhaps his heart aches too. the win feels hollow without you there to patch him up like you usually do. he contemplates just leaving but he knows how much you were looking forward to this. the last thing he wants to do is let you down. "be there in five," he texts back.

he rises with a groan and pulls on a black fitted shirt and heads out of his locker room. he makes his way to the bar near the arena. it's packed with people. some of them smile and congratulate him on his win. he returns their smiles but it never reaches his eyes.

he spots you in the corner, your boyfriend’s arm around your shoulders as you chat animatedly. when you see suguru approaching, your eyes light up. with a loud cheer for him, you leap out of your seat and pull him in a tight hug.

suguru stifles a grimace as he tries to return the hug. his head nuzzles into your hair as he breathes in the comforting scent of your shampoo and a wave of calm washes over him.

you introduce the two men to each other. suguru takes a seat across you and mark. a teasing smile on his face as he leans back. "i was really looking forward to your usual post match check up in the locker room," he says with a playful glint in his eye. "did you skip it to make me miss you more?"

mark shifts in his seat, annoyed but keep his comments to himself. you laugh at suguru's playful comment, as the tension you felt earlier between the two of you melts.

as the conversation flows, you try to get mark to speak more but he doesn't comply. eventually you turn to suguru and ask "so, when's your next match?"

"next weekend," suguru sighs with a small smile. "you'll be there right?" he asks.

just as you're about to respond, mark interjects. "actually, we won't be able to make it. we've got dinner with my parents." he puts an arm around you pulling you closer. suguru's smile falters slightly and a flicker of annoyance passes over his face as he hears mark's use of, "we" and the sight of his arm around you.

"oh, i didn't know things were getting serious between the two of you," suguru says, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of hurt.

mark glances at his watch. "we should probably get going. it's getting late and i've got a meeting in the morning," he says to you.

you nod, standing up and smoothing down your dress that had ridden up slightly. suguru's eyes follows the movement but he quickly looks away, a light shade of pink coloring his cheeks.

suguru stands up as well and shakes mark's hand. you squeeze suguru's arm gently, giving him a warm smile. "go home and rest, okay?" you tell suguru.

suguru returns your smile, his eyes soften as he looks at you and nods.

mark places his hand on your waist as he guides you out of the bar and to his car in the parking lot. once you're in the car and on your way, he finally speaks up. "so, you and suguru, huh?" he asks glancing, over at you.

"what about me and suguru?" you ask, tilting your head.

"you looked pretty cozy back there with him," he says, his voice laced with jealousy.

you huff a chuckle. "mark. you know how long we've been friends for, i've told you this".

his irritation deepens, "didn't seem like just friends, back there. with all the flirting and touching. that's not what friends do."

you feel a surge of frustration at his implication of something more. you try to keep your voice steady as you speak "you're making this into a bigger deal than it is. i told you. we're just friends. have been for ages now. that's all."

he's silent for a moment before he speaks up again glancing at you sideways. "that dress," he says his tone dripping with disdain, "it's really something. almost like you're asking for everyone's attention."

the atmosphere in the car tenses. you don't respond instead you look outside the window.

"i don't like you hanging around him" he says. you look at him, taken aback. "what?"

"you heard me. i don't want you being around him, i don't like how he flirts with you and you let him."

"mark. it's not like that," you try to explain. but he cuts you off.

"it doesn't matter what it's like. i'm telling you i don't want you to hang out around him. i know you've been friends for a long time but things change. this isn't just about him- it's about us. you're dating me now."

you feel a wave of frustration and all of a sdduen the thought of being in relationship with someone like him has you feeling nauseous.

"stop the car," you say, your voice cutting through the tension.

mark glances at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. "what? why?"

"just stop the car," you insist.

you step out of the car and mark follows you out. "where the hell are you going?" he demands. he grabs your wrist pulling you between him and against the car. "you think you can just ignore my feelings and walk away? that's not how this works." his voice rises, his eyes flashing anger. "i won’t let you disrespect me like this."

he presses himself further against you, the cold metal pressing to your back felt harsh. "mark," you tried to sound commanding, but your voice trembled with fear.

his hands move to your hips to keep you from moving. his hands move over your body uninvitingly. his touch felt like fire on your body. "you want to be a whore? is that it? want guys to look at you, drool over you. well here i am," he gives you a smile so twisted, it makes your stomach churn.

just as his hand reaches out to touch your face, you act on instinct. with a swift move, you bring your knee up and slam into his groin. the sudden pain is enough to make him double over and a guttural cry escapes his lips as he falls to the ground.

without looking back, you sprint off leaving your heels behind. your heart pounds in your ears. you hear mark's furious shouts echo behind you, "you fucking bitch!" you keep running until the familiar lights of the bar you had just left come into view.

you burst into the bar, dazed and disheveled, breathing heavily. as you push through the crowd, every face blurs together, your only focus on finding the one that offers you comfort and safety.

he’s getting up from the table where you left him not even an hour ago. he pulls on his jacket, turning around as he spots you. his expression shifts from confusion to deep concern as he takes in your appearance. he calls out your name, reaching for you as you half-collapse into him.

"what happened?" he asks, his voice laced with worry as he wraps his arms around your frame keeping you upright.

“suguru... mark... he—he—” you struggle to speak through the tears. suguru’s face hardens with a fury. “i’m going to kill him,” he says, his voice sharp with anger.

"suguru. please, just get me out of here,” you beg, your voice trembling. "okay, okay." he says, his heart clenhing at the hurt and fear laced in your voice. you cling to him as he guides you out of the chaotic space and into his car.

once you’re settled into the passenger seat, suguru’s gaze falls to your feet. he notices the blood staining the undersides. “you’re bleeding,” he says, his voice tight with worry. he opens the glove box and grabs a bunch of tissues, gently wiping the blood from your feet.

“i’ll clean this up properly when we get to my place,” he says softly, his eyes filled with tender concern. he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road. the car is silent except for the hum of the engine. he reaches over and places his hand gently over yours in your lap, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. 

he pulls the car into his designated parking spot. as soon as you step out, you hiss in pain, your feet throbbing. suguru is by your side instantly. he scoops you into his arms, holding you close. his body heat seeps into you as you press your head into his chest. warm and reassuring.

he steps into his penthouse and gently carries you to the bathroom. with careful movements, he sets you down on the counter. he grabs the first aid kit from the cabinet and kneels before you. placing one of your feet on his lap and holding the other in his hand. his focus unwavering as he begins to clean and tend to your wounds.

once he's done, he places a tender kiss to your ankle. his lips soft against your skin. his eyes meet yours as he stands to his full height, towering over you sitting on the counter. "i'll grab you some clothes," he says stroking your cheek.

he helps you into his bed, pulling the sheets over your body. he starts to move away but you grab his wrist. “please, stay,” you whisper. his eyes soften as he nods. he slips under the sheets beside you. you move closer to him and he wraps his arms around you.

as you rest against him, you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you. he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “do you want to tell me what happened after you left?”

you recount the night’s events, your voice trembling. tears stream down your face but suguru's quick to wipe them away. "that asshole," he lets out a deep exhale as you finish up.

his arms tighten around you as he pulls you closer. "he'll never be able to hurt you again. i promise," he murmurs against your hair as his hand moves up and down over your back, soothingly.

you spend the week at suguru's penthouse, both of you falling into a comfortable routine. each morning, he heads to the gym to train for his fight before you wake, always leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. he makes sure to return by the time you’re up, so you can spend the rest of the day with you.

the day of the fight.

you weave through the backstage corridors, the noise of the crowd buzzing faintly in the background. you finally find suguru's locker room and knock softly. his coach opens the door, glancing back at suguru. he's seated in a silk robe with his name embroidered on the back, chatting with his team. "suguru, your girl’s here," the coach announces and your heart skips a beat at being called his girl. the coach steps aside to let you in.

suguru looks up. his face breaks into a warm smile and he asks everyone to excuse you both. "there she is," he smiles. he gets up and takes a step towards you, placing his hands on your waist. "you're dressed nice," he murmurs with affection. "looking goreous, darling."

“big day today,” you say with a lighthearted chuckle. “thought i’d dress up for the soon-to-be three-time champion.” suguru’s smile widens, and he chuckles, a blush rising to his cheeks. “it means the world to me that you’re here,” he says, his tone turning serious.

you smile in return. for a moment, both of you simply gaze into each other’s eyes. a knock on the door breaks the silence, followed by a voice calling out, “five minutes till you need to be in the ring, geto!”

he takes a step back, his hands falling away from your waist. "gotta go," his voice is quiet as he moves toward the door.

before he can take another step, you pull him close and press your lips to his. a rush of warmth spreads and floods through both of you. the world around you fades into a blur and time stands still as you feel the softness of his lips. his one hand wraps around your waist, pulling you in close while his other moves to the underside of your jaw, tilting your face upward so he can kiss you better.

before the kiss can turn into something more, he pulls back and rests his head against yours. "fuck," he breathes. "i have to go."

"i know," you squeeze his arm. "win for me." you smile, your eyes twinkling with mirth. "and maybe you'll get more than a championship belt tonight."

he chuckles, the sound low and warm, as he strokes your cheek. “i will,” he says, his voice carrying a promise. he presses a quick kiss to your lips, his thumb grazes your bottom lip before he reluctuanly pulls away and walks out.

after a couple of minutes, you follow him. you find a spot near the crowd, your eyes scanning the ring just as the fight begins. the energy in the arena is electric, every cheer and chant adding to the tension.

the match is intense, with both fighters exchanging heavy blows. suguru's focused, moving with a purpose. by the fourth round, it's over — he lands a hard punch that send his opponent down in the ring, knocked out cold. the crowd erupts in a chant of his name as he stands tall and the ref raises his hand in victory

his eyes meets yours. he points at you with a triumphant grin, pumping his fist. your heart races as a thrill runs through you, imagining what’s coming next. you can’t help but chuckle, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

he waves as he exits the ring, then disappears backstage. you chat with his team while suguru wraps up his post-match interviews. just as you’re about to head to his locker room, your phone buzzes with a text from him: “wait by my car. i’ll meet you there.”

a grin spreads across your face as you read the message, excitement fluttering in your chest. you lean against his car, heart racing as you eagerly await his arrival.

suguru walks over proudly holding up his third championship belt. "i told you i'd win!" he declares, his voice laced with victory.

you can't contain your excitement as you rush into his arms with a joyful squeal. he laughs heartily as he lifts you off your feet, holding you close. the weight of the belt presses between you. your laughter mingles with his as you both savor the moment.

he sets you down and quickly drops the belt into the car. then, cradling your face in his hands he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. you melt into the kiss. his hands on your cheeks are warm and gentle. he pulls back slightly, a soft smile playing on his lips as he murmurs “my good luck charm,” against your lips, his voice full of affection and gratitude.

your heart swells with love, but the moment is abruptly interrupted by a distant sound. your smile fades as you see a stumbling figure makes it way towards you and suguru. a cold wave of dread washes over you as you recognize the slurred voice calling your name. "mark," you utter.

suguru's expression hardens as he takes in the sight of mark approaching. he steps in front of you protectively. mark scoffs taking in the sight of you and suguru together. “i knew it. i knew you couldn’t just be friends,” he sneers, his voice thick with bitterness.

you take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. "suguru, please," you say trying to keep your voice steady. "let's just go," you squeeze his arm.

suguru's jaw tightens but he nods. just as you turn to walk away, mark's voice cuts through with degrading edge. "you're just a whore looking for attention from anyone who’ll give it. first it was me and now it's him, huh?"

your heart sinks at mark's cruel words. "suguru!" you go on to grip his hand but his patience snaps. without a second thought he turns around and punches mark. the force of it sends mark sprawling to the ground. a grunt of pain escapes his lips.

mark scrambles back to his feet and lunges at suguru. you watch in horror as they fight. the sound of their fists hitting flesh and bones crunching echoes around you and you're not sure whose it is.

suguru manages to pin mark to the ground. he lands a few more punches, mark's face becoming a bloody. “suguru!” you plead, your voice breaking as tears begin to fall down your face. “stop, let him go!”

suguru finally drops mark and wipes the blood from his hand onto mark's shirt before standing up. mark groans on the ground. suguru takes a few heavy breaths then turns to face you. his expression immediately softens.

he wraps his arms around you, guiding you to the car. you slip inside, still shaken from the encounter. suguru slides into the driver's seat next to you. his hand finds yours with a comforting squeeze.

you take deep breaths as the car starts moving. the drive is quiet as you arrive back at his place. you're both silent as you step into his penthouse. you notice blood seeping between his fingers and you gasp. suguru looks down at his hand and then at you "it's okay, i'm okay," he says.

you shake your head and guide him to the bathroom. gently, you clean his cut and wrap a bandage around his knuckles. suguru watches you with a quiet chuckle. “this feels just like old times,” he murmurs.

“you always playing nurse after my fights.” you glance up at him. “someone’s got to take care of you,” you reply, your tone filled with affection.

his smile deepens reaching his eyes. "i'm glad it's you," he says sincerely. he gently tucks a strand of behind your ear and caresses your cheek.

"i really want to kiss you," he says lowly, his voice filled with longing.

you nod and his lips are on you in an instant. your eyes flutter close and his bandaged hand slips out of your grasp and moves under your jaw tipping your head up for better access.

“i always want to kiss you,” he whispers against your lips, his thumb stroking your bottom lip. your heart flutters at his admission. boldly you part your lips and kiss him again. his tongue slips in your mouth and he groans at the taste of you.

your hands move to the hem of his shirt. "eager," he chuckles stopping your hands. he tuts at your pout. "don't pout." he pulls your bottom lip in between his letting it snap back against your teeth.

"just don't wanna rush and ruin this. don't want you to regret it." he speaks softly, his finger lightly caressing your jaw in a way that feels almost instinctive.

"i won't regret this," you say, your voice a mix of desperation and hope. "want this suguru. want it with you. want you. please?"

"jesus christ," he murmurs under his breath. his hands move to the back of your thighs, carrying you to his bed. he gently sets you down and moves atop you. he parts your legs and sits on his knees in between. with a smirk, he reaches behind his neck and pulls off his shirt in one smooth motion.

you've seen him shirtless countless times before, but seeing him like this—bathed in the soft light of the lamp, every dip and muscle accentuated—feels different. the sight of him, shirtless for you, leaves your throat dry.

"suguru," you say his name in awe.

"sweet girl," he replies softly. "going to make you feel so good, you'll never want anyone else."

his hands move over your shoulders, pulling the straps of your dress down. he tugs the dress further until it stops at your chest, causing you to laugh shyly. "there's a zip on the side," you murmur. he chuckles softly in return. you can feel the way his fingers tremble ever so slightly as he lowers, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

"you're nervous," you state, propping yourself on your elbows. he doesn’t respond, instead focusing on pulling the dress down until it rests at your hips. you lift your hips, allowing him to take it off completely.

his breath hitches as his eyes roam over your body, now only covered by a bra and panties. his hands linger on your hips for a moment, his touch gentle. he meets your eyes, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. "you're my best friend," he whispers, his tone serious. "we can’t go back from this, you know?"

"i—" he takes a deep breath. "i can't go back to being just your friend after this," he says earnestly.

you reach up and cup his face, grounding him with your touch. "i don't want to go back to being just your friend either" you tell him, your voice steady and warm. "i want to go forward."

he looks at you with a mix of relief and determination, his smile widening as he takes in your words. leaning in, his forehead gently touches yours. “then let’s move forward,” he says softly, pressing his lips to yours. the kiss melts away all his doubts.

his hands shift from your hips to your back. he undoes your bra, he pulls it away from your chest and drops it on the ground beside the bed. he pulls back from the kiss, his smile spreading into a wide grin as he tips his head back and laughs joyfully. he lowers his head back and his eyes glisten with a need you've never seen. "can't believe you've hidden this from me," his hands cup your boobs.

his lips trail acseries of kisses across your. chest. when he reaches your nipple, he wrap his lips around it and sucks it eagerly. he lets out an appreciative moan as his tongue teases and circles around it. his hand explores your other boob, mimicking the movements of his mouth, pinching and rolling your nipple.

the sensation sends a wave of heat rushing betwen your legs making you gasp. your hips arch up, seeking fricition and contact to bring you closer to the relief you crave. he smirks, his mouth still on your nipple before he lets it go with a pop. his lips move lower, kissing your stomach and swirling his tongue around your belly button. he nips softly at your hip, leaving a mark just for him to see later.

he tugs the band of your panties back with his teeth, then lets it snap against your skin making you hiss from the sudden sting. he chuckles at your reaction. you glare at him "stop teasing!"

"okay darling," he grins. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slides them down over the smooth skin of your legs. his hands brush against the skin of your inner thighs, sending a shiver up your spine.

his lips follow the path of his hands. he bites and sucks the tender flesh of your inner thighs making you moan in pleasure, as your arousal intensifies. his nose nudges against your folds and you instinctively try to close your thigh but he keep them open with a firm grip.

he tuts softly, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “you’re being a bit greedy,” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse with desire. “keepin all this sweet stuff for yourself”.

his tongue lolls out to taste you. he hums his eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you at last. he can't help himself but need more. his tongue presses further into you, exploring every fold and contour. he releases a deep moan, the sensation vibrating through your body prompting you to echo it into the room.

your fingers curl into his long hair, gripping the strands tightly as he plunges not one but two fingers into you. "she's so eager," he mumbles talking about your pussy. his lips wraps around your nub, sucking it enthusiastically.

your walls tighten around his fingers making his brain short circuits with thoughts of how you would feel around him. he pulls away trailing kisses up your body. when he reaches your lips, he murmurs, "sorry, pretty. i need to be inside you."

you whimper as he pulls out his fingers and gripping your chin, smearing your arousal on it. he leans in and hums as he licks if off before kissing you. his tongue entwines with yours, letting you taste yourself.

you arch up into him craving more. desperate to feel him just as much he does. he fumbles with the button of his pants, anticpation coursing through him making his hands tremble. your hands move to his hips, helping him out. he sits back on his heels as he gets rid of both his pants and boxers.

"fuck," you breathe looking at his length. he chuckles, his ego visibly stroked. "i'll go easy, don't worry". a deep blush spreads across his cheeks as he notices your unwavering gaze. he begins to stroke himself. his cock is a vibrant shade of crimson which thick veins running along the length, pulsing with each stroke — the head a darker hue, slightly glistenig with pre cum. he swipes his thumb across it and then brings it up to your lips.

"want a taste?" he asks with a teasing smile. you nod eagerly and he pushes it between your lips, making your eyes roll back. "as much as i'd love to feel your mouth on me" he says positioning himself between your thighs, "i think i'd lose my mind if i don't fuck you right now".

the tip of his cock nudges against your wet folds, brushing against your entrance. his eyes lock onto yours as he presses forward, easing into you. the fullness makes you gasp and your hand comes up to grip his arm as he stretches you open. he pauses, letting you adjust. his breathing heavy and uneven as he holds himself still above you.

“god, you’re so tight,” he growls. your walls cling to him as he starts to move but stops. "baby, breathe for me," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. "i can't move." you let out a giggle at his words and unknowingly clench around him making him gasp. his head falls onto your chest. "fuck, dont do that," he groans.

"you can go harder," you whine. he grins as he pulls out and drives back in. the force of his thrust makes you shudder with pleasure. he reaches that senstive spot inside you making you mewl out in pleasure. each stroke brings you closer to your climax, his head pressing against your g-spot.

"yes, right there suguru!" you gasp, your hips move in rhythm with his. his sweat-slicked body rubs against yours, his thrusts growing faster and more urgent. “fuck, thought about this for so long” he murmurs into your ear. his tongue traces the shell of your ear before he nips it and nudges his nose into your cheek. the action soft and gentle unlike his pace.

he kisses you with an intensity that turns your brain into mush. the kiss is messy and unrestrained. his teeth occasionally bumps against yours as your tongues tangle together. "suguru," you whine into the kiss and he grunts in response. his thumb finds your clit, pressing and rubbing in tight, steady circles that make you moan.

his pace quickens and you can feel the pressure building deep in your belly, your body strains with the need to come. “come for me, sweet girl,” he commands, his voice rough with his own impending orgasm. “i need to feel you cum around me.”

another hard thrust of his has you crying his name when you reach your climax. "suguru! hngghhh!!" your body arches and trembles beneath his, waves of pleasure crashing over your. he follows suit, his movements becoming erratic as he spills into you. your name escapes his lips in a broken, breathless moan.

he collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for air. the intensity of your release leaves you both breathless, your bodies entwined in the afterglow. his hand gently caresses your sides as he comes down from his high, and the room is filled with the lingering echoes of your shared passion.

a quiet settles between you, both of you lost in thought. you reflect on how everything has shifted. doubts swirl in your mind—wondering if suguru sees this as a one time thing or something more. you remember him saying he wanted more, but what if he just said it in the heat of the moment.

the silence stretches, and he can sense the turmoil in your thoughts. with a sigh, he pulls away from your shoulder. his gaze is warm and reassuring, “just ask me whatever’s on your mind".

he looks between your eyes, understanding what you're thinking before you can voice it. he presses a tender kiss to your lips, catching you off guard. he rests his forehead against yours. “i meant what i said,” he murmurs gently. “i want this. i want to move forward. i want more of this—more of us.”

you run your hands through his hair as he reassures. "i want to be your boyfriend," he mumbles, a shy smile spreading across his lips. your heart swells at his vulnerable expression, not used to seeing him like this. you chuckle softly and return his smile. “i’d like that,” you say, your voice warm and filled with emotion. unable to help himself he peppers your face in wet kisses making you laugh heartily.

☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸

A/N: please drop a like, comment or reblog!

© SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[euphorajeon]

trippin' over, gettin' lost on you | jjk (m)

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, smut | college au, slight coffee shop au (?)

— word count: 12.4k

— warnings: pov change after the first part (its kinda obvious.. i hope), sleeveless jk, jealous jk, like really jealous, side character yoongi, cameo jimin and hoseok, they work tgt in a coffee shop, boxer!jk is back to his nature (he's boxing again, at last), cocky jk (but he's hot so its ok), usual banter between jk and oc, also banter between oc and jimin, mentions of cuts and bruises from boxing, references to the movie Real Steel, uhh what else i dont rmb anything else this thing is GIANT for me, smut in the form of: kissing, marking (hickeys), making out, an attempt at dirty talk, dry humping, cumming in pants, hint at unprotected penetrative sex at the end (don't do this!). [pls lmk if i missed smth]

— summary: a visit to the coffee shop you work at rewards jeongguk not only with a cup of coffee and a plate of brownie, but also with something else simmering deep in his veins. a challenge is issued, and all hell breaks loose.

— author's note: okay first of all full disclosure i started this in sept 2022 and just finished it today ^_^ i tried to edit it as best as i could, so if you see any mistakes, pls kindly... ignore... thank you... ^_^ that aside, i also feel the need to disclose that this is only my second time attempting to write smut so pls.. be kind.. hehe. okay! i hope you enjoy this absolute giant baby of mine!!

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

There’s an advantage to knowing someone for years. Jeon Jeongguk can attest to this fact from first-hand experiences he’d had with you throughout the many years you both have known each other. He’s seen you cry after you almost drowned when you were ten and you’ve seen him throw up his breakfast after drinking skimmed milk when he was twelve, where both life-threatening experiences had been deemed not serious by young-you and young-Jeongguk who used both experiences as means to roast each other. (Though growing up, your hands automatically grabbed the whole milk carton when grocery shopping with him and he’s never let you go within a five-meter radius of a swimming pool without his supervision.)

Years of friendship with you has also given him the advantage of being familiar with your likes and dislikes, from trivial ones like how you don’t drink coffee because it upsets your stomach to more serious ones like the type of boys you would date in your teen years. He’s never had a problem with the former, instead using it as another mean to annoy you (“You can’t drink coffee? What are you? A child?”), but the latter had always bugged him for reasons unknown prior to his big epiphany a little over a year ago. (Spoiler alert: it was the first time he came home with piercings on his eyebrow and lower lip, when he tempted you into kissing him stupid.)

Now he’s confident that the type of a boy you’d date would be someone who is handsome, tall, has a great smile and tattooed bulging biceps on the side. Add a lip piercing (and a fake tongue one!) as well and he’s sure you’re never going to look at other boys ever again. If you do, well, he’d just make the piercing on his tongue a permanent one, even though that means he wouldn’t be able to kiss you for weeks after. But as said earlier, he’s confident that you only have eyes for him alone.

With that same confidence, Jeongguk struts through the glass door of the coffee shop you’re working at for the summer, going up to the counter with a grin painted on his features. Said grin goes unnoticed by you, though, as you’re busy taking the order of the person in front of him. His lips stay tilted upwards as he watches you work, writing the customer’s name on the cup with your big, round, cute handwriting. Only when you’re done taking the order and the customer’s cup has been given to your coworker do you notice his presence, eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

“Hi, what can I get you today?” you greet him in your customer-service voice and smile like you do any other customer that has come before him. Jeongguk gives you an amused smile, making you chuckle as you key in his order even before he says it himself. He eyes the small screen in front of him that displays his usual choice of beverage, making a sound to stop you from ringing him up.

“Actually,” he says when you hum in question, “could you add milk to that? Make it a latte?”

“You want a latte?” you emphasize the last word, making sure you didn’t hear him wrong. “Like, with milk and foam on top?”

“Uh-huh,” Jeongguk confirms, leaning his elbows on the counter to stare at you as you change his order from an americano to a latte. “Can I also order you on the side? Look too good not to be devoured,” he adds, a sleazy smirk on his lips.

You scrunch up your face at his innuendo, his words hard to believe when you’re wearing a murky brown apron and a matching cap on your head. “I’m adding a brownie,” you deadpan. “That would be seven dollars.”

“You don’t want anything?” Jeongguk asks as he straightens up, hand reaching for his wallet to take out his credit card. “No coffee though, babe.”

“Nope, I’m good,” you answer as you accept the card Jeongguk hands you, swiping it through the card reader. “Yoongi said I can try the new menu in large for free! I’m saving calories for that so no sugar allowed for now.”

His forehead creases upon hearing the new name. “Yoongi? Who’s Yoongi?”

“Him,” you tilt your head towards a mint-haired guy who’s busy making all the drinks, hands skillfully moving from one cup to another. It’s a wonder how he doesn’t spill even a drop of liquid. “I’ll introduce you later but now you have to move, there’s a line. Shoo.”

Jeongguk gives you a playful pout as a protest but complies with your request to move, sliding down to the pick up counter as you greet the next customer in line. There are two people lined up after him, barely a line like you made it sound like, but he figures because it’s an hour before closing that you consider any amount above one person a line. He also notices that you and the mint guy (Yoongi, was it?) are the only ones manning the counter, so it’s not like you have any spare time to deal with him given the amount of work that has to be done.

“An iced latte and brownie for Jeongguk!” Mint guy shouts as he slides the drink and dessert on the counter, lingering for a second when he sees Jeongguk’s hands reaching for his order. Mint guy’s gaze trails up his arms to his face, eyes meeting Jeongguk’s confused ones. Recognition bleeds into his cat-like eyes as his mouth forms into an O shape.

“Kiddo’s boyfriend?”

The low baritone of his voice is unexpected, though that’s not the only thing throwing Jeongguk for a loop. ‘Kiddo’? He has a nickname for you??

Mint guy—Yoongi!—doesn’t take his lack of response personally, instead opting to turn around and talk to you who have just finished taking orders from the customers. Jeongguk can’t hear what words you and Yoongi are throwing around, but from the way you glance at him, it looks like the mint-haired guy is just trying to confirm the answer to his two-worded question directed at Jeongguk earlier.

Your response to Yoongi’s inquiry makes the guy give you double pats on your cap-covered head, triggering a laugh to come out of both of you. While Yoongi’s laugh looks like he’s teasing you good-naturedly, yours looks like a shy one if the pink dusting your cheeks are any indication. It prompts a scowl to appear on Jeongguk’s handsome visage, furrowed brows and clenched jaw. It is not in your nature to get shy.

As much as he wants to stay rooted to the pick-up counter to keep you and Yoongi in his close watch, he has to move his ass somewhere less crowded to avoid getting eye-fucked by the girl next to him who has been staring at his tattoos for the past five minutes. Prior to dating you, anyone who displays interest in his tattoos would make pride swell in his chest, an ego-booster guaranteed to make his day a thousand times better. He used to subtly flex whenever he caught someone looking at his sleeve tattoos, an equally subtle wink on the side if that someone is a girl he found attractive. But after dating you, he realizes that the only attention he wants (and matters) is yours. Now anyone staring at his tattoos with the intention of flirting or getting in his pants just makes him shiver in disgust.

Though, in this particular instance, Jeongguk admits it’s his own fault by showing up to the coffee shop in a sleeveless shirt. It wasn’t intentional, he just grabbed anything within reach when he packed for the gym earlier in the day, but the way he left his hoodie in the car is definitely intentional. He thought he would give you a distraction surprise by baring his sleeve when you’re working, but you seemed unaffected even when he leaned on the counter to flex his muscles. Which is weird, considering you never missed any chance to ogle his inked bicep whenever he’s boxing.

As Jeongguk plops a small piece of brownie into his mouth, he just realizes that your roles are reversed now, with you doing your thing and him doing the staring. His eyes never leave your figure as you ring up three more customers since he sat down, transferring plastic cups onto Yoongi’s never-ending queue of orders. He watches as you take the last two cups by yourself, re-reading the order before moving to grab the ingredients needed for the drink. Your hands don’t work as fast as Yoongi’s, the muscle memory not yet settling in, but Jeongguk can tell that your help is appreciated by the way the mint guy smiles at you while patting your shoulder.

When the orders are all done, you go up to the glass door to flip the sign so it shows the Sorry, we’re closed! side. A glance at the clock tells him that it is thirty minutes until closing time, meaning thirty minutes until you can get out from behind the cashier and into his waiting arms. He hasn’t seen you all day today and all he wants to do is kiss you breathless the second you get rid of that horrendous apron and cap. Jeongguk starts counting down from the thirty-minute mark, hoping time would tick by faster.

Behind the counter, Yoongi is still busy making one more drink while refusing your offer to help. It’s weird seeing your kindness being offered to someone that isn’t him, but Jeongguk supposes this time it’s strictly work-related as he knows Yoongi has been making all the drinks (except the last two that you did) ever since he sat down with his order. Though, it seems like the drink in his hand is not an order at all, because he gives the plastic cup to you instead of putting it on the counter for a customer to take. There’s an almost childish grin on your face as you sip on the drink, eyes lighting up as you shoot Yoongi a thumbs up. After you exchange some more words with Yoongi, Jeongguk watches as you skip happily to his table with your drink in hand.

You place said drink next to his cup of latte on the table before your hand reaches for his drink to steal a sip. “I just have to clean up and wait for everyone to leave, then we’re good to go.” You steal two more sips of the latte just because you can.

“Okay, babe, but I still want my latte, you can put it down now,” Jeongguk chuckles, watching you do as he says with a guilty smile on your face. But then your hand takes the little spoon that came with the brownie to cut a sizable chunk from his half-eaten treat, quickly plopping it into your mouth. “Finish your brownie so I can take the plate away to wash it.”

“Are you just here to steal all of my food?” Jeongguk jokes, no menace behind his words as he reaches up to thumb away a stray piece of brownie from the corner of your lips. “And you said you didn’t want anything when I offered earlier.”

“I didn’t,” you confirm, “stealing from you is just too hard to resist.”

Jeongguk would’ve continued the banter if not for Yoongi calling your nickname from behind the counter, signalling for you to get back to your job.

“Boss calls,” you say, sneakily stuffing some more brownie into your mouth. “Should get back. Bye!”

“He’s your boss?” Jeongguk asks incredulously, glancing at the mint-haired guy who’s still busy moving around behind the counter. “That young guy is your boss??”

“Yeah, I’ll explain later,” you wave your hand dismissively, turning to leave. “Don’t steal my drink!”

In true Jeongguk fashion, of course he steals a sip from your drink. He does it just to be petty that you won’t explain anything about Yoongi, but he’s also curious what the new menu tastes like. He doesn’t remember seeing any banner for a new menu when he entered the shop earlier, so he’s guessing it hasn’t gone on sale yet.

He scrunches up his face the moment the drink touches his taste buds, tasting the bitterness of coffee among the layers of other flavors. It’s not as strong as the americano he usually has, but he can still feel it linger even after he swallowed the drink. Definitely not the type of drink you’d order on your own, though, so why were you so excited to try this new menu?

Looking around the shop, Jeongguk’s gaze falls on Yoongi. You did say he was your boss, didn’t you? Could it be that this free drink is just a plot to use you as a guinea pig for his experimental weird recipes, knowing that you can’t refuse your boss? Was that why he refused your help earlier? So he could make the drink taste as bizarre as it is right now?

His eyes continue following your and Yoongi’s figures behind the counter, squinting them in distaste whenever he sees you laughing at something the mint-haired guy said. Your smile, your lowered gaze, your shy demeanor, all remind him of a feeling he thought he had buried a long time ago—the same feeling he got whenever you got a boyfriend in your adolescent years. Suddenly, Jeongguk feels fifteen all over again—a clueless doe-eyed boy who donned t-shirts in every color of the rainbow every day of the week and strutted like he owned the school just so you can see that he was cool, only for you to deny him of a Sunday together.

Those years have become a core memory for him that it inspired him to get one of his tattoos: Rather be dead than cool, because he realized the way to your attention was not by being cool, it was by just being himself. (Yes, the ‘him’ who showed up unannounced at your doorstep after two years and ended the day with you on his lap stealing all the breath straight from his lungs.)

Anyways, all of that doesn’t matter because currently, your eyes are not on him but on your mint-haired boss who’s busy grinning while washing some equipment. Why are you both smiling so much around each other? Do you have some kind of inside joke that’s so funny you can’t stop laughing? What is so pleasing about Yoongi’s presence that you keep beaming at him?

Jeongguk chews the straw of your drink in anger, not realizing that he has inhaled almost half of the cup’s content despite claiming that he hates the taste. Sipping on your drink has become an afterthought as he was busy analyzing how wide your smiles are while working with Yoongi and how friendly the shoulder and head pats you give each other are. It’s sickening.

Eventually, everyone else in the coffee shop left and you’re in front of him once again to get rid of the brownie plate from his table, whining when you see the half-empty cup in Jeongguk’s hand even as you’re chewing the rest of his brownie in your mouth. Fair trade, he says as you walk away with the plate and spoon in hand.

Not even five minutes has passed since you left his table, yet Jeongguk feels tired of being patient, taking your and his coffee cups in each hand before coming up to the counter. It seems like Yoongi senses his presence, because he looks up from the calculator app on the tablet in front of him to give Jeongguk a curious glance. Their eyes meet for a split second before Jeongguk moves his gaze past Yoongi’s shoulder to you, who’s still busy wiping down the counter. A knowing smile curves on Yoongi’s lips.

“Hey, Kiddo,” Yoongi turns towards you, the nickname still irritating to Jeongguk’s ears. “I’ll finish closing up, you can go. Great work today.”

“No it’s okay, I can help you mop the floor after I’m finished with the counter.” You don’t even look up as you wave him off, oblivious to Jeongguk’s presence and his increasing impatience in front of your boss. He clears his throat comically loud, making you turn around to see a frown etched on your boyfriend’s face and Yoongi tilting his head towards him with a small, almost teasing smile on his face.

“Oh.” You pull your lips into a thin line. “Okay then. Sorry about him, Yoongi.”

“No worries, Kiddo.”

Yoongi’s nonchalant response is laced with a chuckle, which for some reason, upsets Jeongguk even more than the nickname he keeps calling you by. Is Yoongi not scared of him? Of his tattoos, of his muscles? Is he not intimidating? Can’t he feel the piercing stare Jeongguk keeps giving him ever since he walked into the coffee shop?

“You.” Your stern voice tears his hot gaze away from the mint-haired guy, whose focus is back on the calculator on his tablet to count the sales they made today. “I’ll clock out first then we can go. Please don’t do anything weird in the five minutes that I don’t have my eyes on you.”

Jeongguk follows your figure with his eyes until you disappear into the backroom, leaving him alone with Yoongi. Yoongi, the guy with the mint hair, whose surname he doesn’t even know, who is your boss that strangely have an endearing nickname for you. Things that stream steady questions into his head, about your initial meeting with Yoongi to the extent of your relationship with him. It’s the nickname he can’t seem to shake off of his mind, the way it rolls easily off Yoongi’s tongue, as if he’s been calling you that for years. Has he known you for years like Jeongguk has? Been through near-death experiences with you like Jeongguk has? Has he deserved the right to call you by a nickname like Jeongguk has?

“You can stop shooting daggers at my head, you know,” Yoongi’s low drawl almost makes Jeongguk think that he’s talking to himself, but the sentence is clearly directed at him. The older guy finally looks up from his tablet to look at Jeongguk in the eyes for longer than a second, no coffee orders to complete to interrupt their interaction this time. “Kiddo’s boyfriend, Jeongguk, right?”

As Jeongguk gives a nod to confirm Yoongi’s question, a hand is extended towards him to complete the introduction. “I’m Yoongi, Kiddo’s coworker-slash-boss.”

Jeongguk grips Yoongi’s hand with more strength than necessary, unintentionally flexing his muscles too. He thought that would be enough to tell Yoongi that Jeongguk is your boyfriend and he has no business being so friendly with you, but Yoongi only glances at his tattooed arm before letting go of his hand with a comment about how strong his grip is.

“Thanks, I do boxing,” Jeongguk mutters curtly, upset at the degree of nonchalance Yoongi is showing. He starts glancing at the door to the backroom where you currently are, wishing you would emerge right this second so he can go and doesn’t need to face Yoongi’s mint hair ever again.

“Yeah, Kiddo might have mentioned that a few times, just like she won’t shut up about your sleeve tattoos,” Yoongi says, going back to his tablet. “I used to box too, by the way.”

If you asked Jeongguk what Yoongi used to do, he wouldn’t be able to answer at all as he chooses to focus on the part where Yoongi said you won’t shut up about his sleeve tattoos and tune out the rest of his sentence. “My tattoos? What about them?”

“She said you have tons. Shoulder to fingertips. That’s how I recognized you when giving your order,” Yoongi answers lightly, which piqued Jeongguk’s interest even further. Wouldn’t it be fun to use this coworker-slash-boss of yours to get information about what you’ve been saying about him at work? What else does Yoongi know about him other than he does boxing and has a sleeve tattoo?

“Really? Does she gush about how hot they are to you, too?”

It’s not a question meant to be answered, its sole purpose to show off that you indeed gush to him about how hot his tattoos are. Though, if one thinks about it, why would Jeongguk need to boast to Yoongi about the compliments you give him about the strokes of ink on his arm? What business does Yoongi have knowing about it?

Yoongi seems to be unaware of Jeongguk’s inner dilemma as his face breaks out into a grin. “I think she’d be mad at me if I told you half the things she gushes to me about you.”

So you do gush about how hot his tattoos are to Yoongi. Interesting.

The fact that Yoongi insinuates there’s more to that is both endearing and terrifying to Jeongguk, because while he’s giddy that you talk about him with other people with so much enthusiasm, too much of it could end up in you sharing something about him that you should not have. Not to mention you’re sharing it with your boss, someone you should keep at an arm’s length when it comes to sharing about your significant others. One wrong move and he could use it against you.

Jeongguk is just about to ask Yoongi to elaborate further on his statement when you step out of the backroom, now out of the murky brown cap and apron and in a white t-shirt that looks like it belongs to Jeongguk. All thoughts of Yoongi knowing all sort of things about him evaporates right away, his mind focusing on how cute you look instead. If only Jeongguk doesn’t know basic human decency, he’d pull you by the waist to taste the mouth he’s been deprived of for the whole day, not giving an ounce of care about your boss watching the whole thing.

No, he’s a good boyfriend so he opts to pull you by the shoulders instead, letting your arms go around his waist before squeezing you in his arms. The kiss he drops on your cheek is chaste yet lingering, like he wants to let you know just how much he missed you. You tighten your arms around him in return, wordlessly saying the same thing back.

“Ready to go?” Jeongguk mumbles into your hair, not yet letting go of the hug.

“Ye—oh, wait!” You pull your face away from its initial position on Jeongguk’s chest. “You haven’t met Yoongi yet.”

“We did, Kiddo,” Yoongi waves you off. “You’re free to go. Your boyfriend here has been waiting long enough.”

“No,” you say, pulling away from Jeongguk’s hold. “I mean I haven’t introduced you two properly.” You gesture to the both of them back and forth as you say their names. “Yoongi, meet my boyfriend, Jeon Jeongguk. Jeongguk, meet my boss, Min Yoongi. His family owns this coffee shop.”

“That’s what you mean by proper?” Jeongguk says to you as he takes Yoongi’s hand for the second time that day, regular grip this time because you’re watching his every move like a hawk. “I didn’t know you own the shop. Nice place,” he nods to the older guy, releasing his hand.

“Thanks. It’s my dad’s, though. I just help from time to time,” Yoongi shrugs.

“You ‘just help from time to time’ but willing to dye your hair mint in honor of the new menu.” You nudge his elbow playfully. “Speaking of the new menu, did you finish the whole cup, Jeongguk? I’ve only had a few sips.” You frown as you bring the cup to your eye level, examining just how much of it is left. It’s an exaggeration, obviously, as the cup in your hand is still half-filled. But Jeongguk plays along, saying the reason why he inhaled your drink is because he’s tired from having just gone back from boxing.

“You have your own latte,” you point out, finally taking a much-deserved sip from your free drink. It still tastes okay, so you stop grilling Jeongguk about stealing your drink (even though you kinda stole his too, in the middle of your shift nonetheless.) “Oh, and did you know Yoongi also—”

Yoongi clears his throat loudly before you can finish your sentence. You look up from your drink, alarmed, afraid you might have said something wrong. Your eyes meet Yoongi’s and he gives you a tiny shake of his head, one Jeongguk doesn’t notice because he’s busy taking sips from his own cup of latte. (And because he’s more focused on you than Yoongi.)

“He knows, I told him I used to box too,” Yoongi says.

“You did? I didn’t catch it,” Jeongguk averts his eyes from you, turning to look at Yoongi. “Wanna have a match? I could use an opponent for my session tomorrow.”

“I said I used to, Kid,” Yoongi re-emphasizes on the two words. “I have a shoulder injury. It’s healing, but I still shouldn’t do too much to it.”

“Oh come on, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Jeongguk!” A slap lands on his bicep courtesy of you.

“What? He said it’s healing!”

It’s only now that Jeongguk witnesses the exchange between you and Yoongi using only your eyes, yours looking frantic while Yoongi’s looking as cool as a cucumber. Maybe he should dye his hair a shade of green resembling a cucumber rather than a mint.

After watching you and Yoongi have a silent conversation for a minute, Jeongguk lets out a sigh as he takes the final sip from his latte. “It’s okay, babe, I was just kidding. It’s fine if Yoongi doesn’t want to have a match with me.” He throws the empty cup into a trashcan nearby. “It just means that he backs down easily from a challenge.”

You physically face-palm at his sentence, missing the way Jeongguk throws a challenging smirk Yoongi’s way. The older doesn’t seem fazed at all, instead letting a small smirk take over his features as well. “That’s not a really nice thing to say to someone you’ve just met,” he drawls.

Jeongguk shrugs. “Just stating the truth.”

“Jeongguk, please stop,” you whine from behind your hands, still facepalming because you don’t want to become a witness in case this coffee shop becomes a crime scene.

“Alright, I’ll have a match with you,” Yoongi says finally, tone resolute. You peek out from the cocoon of your hands, glancing back and forth between your coworker-slash-boss and your boyfriend who are having a staring contest, both refusing to back down. “Tomorrow after my shift works? Kiddo here can take the same shift so she can watch us too.”

“Sure,” Jeongguk agrees without a pause. “It ends at three, right?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. See you then.”

Then Jeongguk puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from the counter to finally go take you home as it’s the reason he came here in the first place. You hastily give your coworker a wave goodbye over your shoulder, getting a wave back accompanied with a laugh. Jeongguk uses the opportunity to steal yet another sip from your drink.

“Stop it! You’re gonna finish it all!”

“What even is it? It tastes really weird.” Jeongguk scrunches up his face.

“It’s mint mochaccino, you ass.” You pull the cup away from him, who chases the straw with his mouth while grinning wide. “Stop or I won’t kiss you until tomorrow morning.”

“Always withdrawing kisses when I need them the most,” he pouts, retreating from your drink to let you finally finish the cup yourself. “Can I kiss you in the car or should I wait until we get home?”

(Does not matter what you answer is, because he grips the back of your neck in the car to make out with you for five minutes, and then finish what he started in the safety of his room, under the blankets.)

“Are you sure you want to fight with Yoongi later?”

You and Jeongguk are back in his car, on the way to the coffee shop for you to start your shift and for Jeongguk to get his americano to kick off the day. His nod to your question is firm.

“Yeah. My coach said it’s good to train with an opponent sometimes.”

“You could’ve fought with your coach instead, then,” you point out.

“True, but—” Jeongguk tilts his head, sucking in a breath. “He’s the one who trained me, so he knows my fighting style and pattern. It’s good indeed, but it’s missing that element of fun.” He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Besides, I want to know what your Yoongi is made of.” He casts a glance at you to see your reaction.

“What ‘my’ Yoongi, what are you talking about …” You heave a sigh, massaging your temple. It’s not even 9 AM yet but you can already feel a headache coming. Sometimes you wonder why you’re willing to date this childhood friend of yours, knowing all of his flaws and bad habits like this. Though it’s given you the advantage of being able to read between the lines of his actions, often you wish he’d just say things outright without you having to dig it out of him.

“You know, the Yoongi you work with? The Yoongi who gives you head pats? The Yoongi who has a nickname for you?” Jeongguk’s tone gets more annoying near the end of his sentence, almost as if he’s trying to get a certain reaction out of you.

“The Yoongi who owns the cafe I work at, which is the sole source of income I have?” you reply instead, refusing to give in to Jeongguk’s silent provocation. “Also, the Yoongi who used to box. I think you should keep that in mind when you fight him later.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bet he wasn’t even that good.”

You manage to arrive at the cafe unscathed, only losing a tiny piece of sanity because your boyfriend couldn’t keep his mouth shut about Yoongi and his non-existent boxing skills (Jeongguk’s words, not yours.) It doesn’t help that the Yoongi in question is already standing behind the register, greeting you with a smile and throwing a lopsided smirk your boyfriend’s way. You don’t like the thick tension between them at all so you quickly slip into the backroom to let Jeongguk be a big boy for once and order his own americano for the day.

Stepping out of the backroom in your mandatory work apron and cap, you’re kind of relieved when you see the shop is still intact, not thrown upside down courtesy of your boyfriend and his inability to control his strength (and emotion) in the face of a threat (read: Yoongi.) Upon seeing you, Jeongguk pushes himself off the counter he’s leaning against before reaching for your waist despite your boss standing just a few feet away. The cup of americano on the counter tells you that you took too long in the breakroom, which if anyone asks, you’d justify with adjusting your work attire. In reality, you just don’t want to face your boyfriend and the sour look he has whenever he so much as glances at your boss.

“You can always cancel the fight with Yoongi, you know,” you murmur, biting your bottom lip in worry. “You could hurt him, he could hurt you … it’s not ideal.”

“Hmm.” Jeongguk purses his lips. “What’s not ideal is your boss having a nickname for you.” There he goes again, always having something to say about Yoongi. “Aside from it being highly unprofessional, it’s also inappropriate since you have a boyfriend and that is me. Jeon Jeongguk. I am your boyfriend.”

“Jeongguk, he knows,” you groan, fed up with the back-and-forth about this whole Yoongi thing. You don’t even know why your boyfriend is so threatened by the older guy when he’s a whole lifetime ahead of him. “It’s not even a nickname. You’re just seeing what you want to see.”

Jeongguk’s reply never makes it out of his mouth as he’s interrupted by Yoongi clearing his throat, making you both look at him tapping on his wrist to signal the time. It’s a reminder that you’re here to work, not to continue the argument that sparked in the car. Your boyfriend rolls his eyes at your boss, sharing a hard stare with him before deciding to do something one should not do in front of their boss: dip down to kiss you, using your surprised gasp as a way to slide his tongue inside your mouth. In the five seconds he manages to tangle his tongue with yours, you completely missed the sound of the glass doors opening and the low whistle that came after, along with Yoongi’s chuckle and greeting to the person who just came in.

Shoving Jeongguk away by your hand on his chest, you try to cover your burning face with your other hand as an attempt to save your dignity in front of Yoongi, though you doubt it’s working at all. Jeongguk licks his lips then winks at you, squeezing your waist in his grip before stepping back to grab his cup of americano, now full of condensation sliding off the plastic cup. He takes a sip to taste test before scrunching up his nose.

“Could’ve been better,” he sneers, making you glare. “Alright, I’ll let you get to work. See you later, babe.” Then, after a second, turns to Yoongi to add: “you too.”

When Jeongguk disappears into his car, you put your head in your hands and let out the loudest groan known to man. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”

The mint-haired guy only gives you a gummy laugh, eyes turning into crescents as he shakes his head. “Your boyfriend is really something, Kiddo,” he muses. “A really … fun early morning entertainment, you could say.”

“Entertaining it was!” You hear the voice first before you see the person, the one who must’ve come in when you were rather preoccupied with your boyfriend. Park Jimin, your other coworker, slides behind the counter in a brown apron identical to yours and Yoongi’s, just minus the cap. Good, that means he doesn’t have a bad hair day today and can take the position at the register instead of you. You could use some more time to learn to make the drinks, anyway.

“Didn’t know you and your boyfriend were such exhibitionists, Kim,” Jimin taunts you, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. “Although, if my boyfriend were that hot, I would have wanted to exhibit him too…” He purses his lips in an exaggerated manner of faux thinking, obviously trying to rile you up. “Lucky you, Kim.”

“Shut up, Park,” you seethe through your teeth, slapping him with a dish rag while he cackles happily. “We’re not exhibitionists. You just have terrible timing.”

“Oh, it was perfect I’d say, just in time to catch sight of his tongue going into your mouth—”

“JIMIN!”

When Jimin continues making fun of you by making gross kissing sounds, you turn to Yoongi for help. As the oldest amongst you three, he must have a sound solution to get Jimin to stop making those awful sounds and put you out of your misery. Although, your trust in him is probably misplaced as Yoongi just chuckles and tells you something your own mom would tell you whenever you’re telling on Jeongguk: “Just ignore him, Kiddo.” The sacred word of ignore. “Go prepare the breakfast pastries now.”

So much for sound solution.

You go about your shift as usual, with Jimin manning the register like you planned to. Time goes by quickly when you’re busy working (and when your coworker is Park Jimin) that you didn’t realize it’s almost time for your shift to end. You glance at the line in front of Jimin and see that there are still three more people he needs to serve, while you and Yoongi still have about five tickets to finish before you can clock out and leave. Scratch that, might be eight tickets to go considering the workers who have their shift after you aren’t here yet. It’s gonna be a while before you can see your boyfriend and be a witness to an unnecessary fight between him and Yoongi.

“Hey, Kim, where’s your boyfriend? Didn’t you say he was gonna pick you up from work?” Jimin nudges your elbow when he finishes taking one customer’s order, sliding a plastic cup into the queue in front of you. “I want to see just how hot he really is,” he continues while wiggling his eyebrows.

Before you can slap the guy with your dish rag again—it’s looking more like your weapon rather than a cleaning tool at this point—Yoongi pipes up from his position in front of the sink. “Just look for someone with a tattoo sleeve. He loves brandishing it.”

“Ooh, a hot guy with tattoos,” Jimin whistles. “Add some piercings and I might steal him away from you.”

“Jimin, quit drooling over my boyfriend,” you sigh, taking the next cup in line as your coworker turns back to the register. He’s already starting to greet the next customer when you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, sliding next to him to brew the espresso needed for the order you’re making. “He has one on his lip, but he’s mine. Note that, Park,” you whisper to him while he’s keying in an order, earning a light chuckle from the man.

“He’s just messing with you, Kiddo, don’t mind him,” Yoongi chuckles from beside you, eyeing Jimin whose focus is currently on the cup he’s scribbling a customer’s name on. “He has his eyes set on someone else already.”

“Gossiping, aren’t we?” Jimin turns to you and Yoongi with a sleazy smile. “Careful now, unless you want Hoseok to know about your hot boyfriend too, Kim.” He gestures to the glass doors, where Hoseok from the next shift just walked through. He’s a great guy, but you’ve only shared a couple shifts with him, so you think you haven’t got to the point of sharing about significant others.

With the mention of Hoseok, you and Yoongi move to finish the orders you have left before handing over the shift to the aforementioned man. When all your orders are done and you’re ready to head to the backroom, you turn to ask Jimin to go with you only to find him still rooted in front of the register. “Jimin, you’re not going?”

“Oh, I’m actually covering for Eunbi.” Jimin shrugs, sliding a cup into Hoseok’s line of orders. “Go, Kim. Have fun with your boyfriend,” he grins, sending you a teasing wink.

Hoseok, a clueless witness, looks at the both of you with a scandalous stare. “What, what, what did I miss? Why are you winking like that, Park Jimin?” he says, urging Jimin to elaborate while pouring drinks into a plastic cup.

“You should ask her, Hobi,” Jimin snickers into his hand as he turns to greet a customer. Hoseok turns to you, his expression hopeful that you will shed light on the reason behind Jimin’s wink.

“My boyfriend is about to fight with our boss and I don’t know how to talk him out of it,” you say through your teeth, giving an overly-sweet smile to a confused Hoseok. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet him and make sure he’s not gonna bite Yoongi’s head off.”

“Bye, Kim,” Jimin sing-songs, waving his hand to you. “Say hi to your boyfriend for me!”

You’re already walking away, turning to tell Jimin off when you bump into Yoongi who’s just came out of the backroom, void of his work apron and ready to go. He grabs your shoulders to turn you around, pushing you into the backroom to prevent anymore banter between you and Jimin. “Let it go, Kiddo.”

In the backroom, you catch a text from Jeongguk saying that he’s already in the coffee shop, ready to go when you are. You emerge from the room after clocking out, moving your feet to the dining area of the cafe while waving to Jimin and Hoseok behind the counter. Scanning the room, you search for a familiar mop of black hair that belongs to your boyfriend.

It’s easy to spot Yoongi’s mint hair amongst the sea of other natural-colored hairs. What’s not easy is believing your eyes when you see the person sitting in front of Yoongi waving wildly at you, grinning like a mad man. It’s your boyfriend, the person you’re supposed to see after work, the person you’re supposed to supervise when he fights your boss later, alright, that part you know. The part that you don’t know and have a hard time believing is:

Jeongguk’s hair is mint.

Not black, not brown, not the experimental half-half he tried in high school. Mint.

The exact same shade as Yoongi’s.

It feels like you’re on autopilot when your feet carry you to their table, jaw on the floor while your eyes are stuck on Jeongguk’s freshly-dyed strands.

“Hi, babe,” your boyfriend has the audacity to say, lips stretching impossibly wider. He reaches up to run his fingers through his mint hair, an act so deliberate even Yoongi sighs at the sight of it, but it makes your heart skip a bit nonetheless. “Do you like my new hair?”

The light green strands previously tangled with his fingers fall back to cover his forehead and frame his face perfectly, the light hue somehow blending well with Jeongguk’s skin tone. It also accentuates his jaw more, making it appear sharper when the grin on his lips morphs into a smirk once he notices that you can’t stop staring. Oh, that smirk. Usually hot with his previously black hair, it is now lethal with his mint hair, toeing the line of playful and dangerous at the same time.

You want to scream at the obvious and cheesy question.

Yoongi, the third person who’s been watching the entire interaction unfold before his eyes, clears his throat. “If you’re done eye-fucking your boyfriend, can we go now? I have somewhere else to be after this.”

“Yoongi!” you whisper-shout, half scandalized, half disbelieving that your boss can say something so crude in the middle of his own buzzing coffee shop. Maybe he’s been hanging out with Park Jimin too much. (Or maybe he’s just sick of you drooling over your boyfriend time and time again … yeah, maybe that.)

“Can’t wait to lose to me, Min?” Jeongguk snickers, taking your hand in his as he follows Yoongi—who pointedly ignores his taunting question—towards the glass door of the coffee shop.

You catch Jimin’s eyes as you’re stepping out, his eyes rounding in surprise before a sly smile takes over his features. Have fun! he mouths, giving you a wink. Ugh, you’re gonna face a lot more questions the next time you have a shift together with him.

After another futile attempt at talking Jeongguk out of fighting with Yoongi, you’re seated where you usually are, on the sidelines of Jeongguk’s gym, this time with heightened anxiety out of fear that your boyfriend and your boss could hurt each other. You’re worried less about the physical part—boxing is a very physical sport, after all—and more about the mental part.

Boys are full of pride, full of ego. They pride themselves on their ability to box, delivering punch after punch until their knuckles bruise. They pride themselves on their muscles, bulging biceps that took years to build and maintain. They pride themselves on their strength, how they are able to hold you up against the wall when you’re busy sucking air off each other’s lungs.

Oh, and in case it’s not clear, by boys you mean Jeongguk.

You have a lot of faith in your boyfriend, of course, but knowing Yoongi’s boxing skills, no matter how long ago it was, the outcome of the fight today could just be the one that would hurt Jeongguk’s pride. The possibility of it happening is so high that you’re already preparing yourself for when Jeongguk comes back to you with his ego bruised. God, you can only hope Yoongi won’t hit too hard.

You’re too busy thinking of the many possible outcomes of this fight that you don’t realize when Jeongguk is back from putting his gloves on and warming up, now standing in front of you. “Wish me luck?” he says, along with a toothy grin your way.

“Yeah, good luck, Ggukie,” you reply, lacking your usual sarcastic bite. Jeongguk seems to pay no mind to it, though, ducking down to peck your lips before turning around to face his opponent for the day.

You catch Yoongi’s eyes when Jeongguk has his back to you, quickly mouthing don’t hurt him! to your boss, which he only responds with a smirk. All the blood drains from your face. Looks like your worries about someone getting his ego bruised won’t be just worries after all.

When the fight has started (Jeongguk’s coach started it—you’re grateful he’s there because then you don’t have to worry too much about Jeongguk and Yoongi beating each other to a pulp), you can’t help but watch. You just realize, in the years you’ve known Jeongguk and watched him box, you’ve never actually seen him fight anyone else other than his coach. He’s said before that he only took boxing as a way to work out, not to actually fight, so you guess that makes sense.

You don’t watch boxing matches a lot (actually, you don’t watch them at all), your only knowledge of boxing you get from watching Real Steel, a movie about boxing matches for robots, set in the far future when human boxing is not interesting anymore due to the limited brutality. You’re not sure how much information you retained from the movie, and how accurate they are, but you’re pretty sure you don’t need much boxing knowledge to know that right now, Yoongi is playing defensive while Jeongguk is playing offensive.

Alright, you admit, you have no idea if the terms you’re using are right, but it’s the simplest ones you can use to describe the sight in front of you. Since the start of the fight, Jeongguk has been throwing punches continuously, while Yoongi has had his gloved hands covering his face the entire time. Okay, not the entire time, but he’s only thrown one punch compared to Jeongguk’s one hundred ones.

As the fight goes on, Yoongi starts throwing punches here and there while still dodging Jeongguk’s aggressive fists. You’ve never seen Yoongi move this much in the entire time you’ve known him, and it surprises you how agile he is. The way he ducks under Jeongguk’s arm and throws him off balance is admirable, sometimes a little bit funny (just a bit, you promise) because it shows just how calm he is compared to Jeongguk’s aggressive, almost-angry boxing style.

When Jeongguk’s coach declares a break, your boyfriend walks back to you with his brows furrowed, tearing off one of his gloves so he can remove his mouth guard and grab his water bottle. After chugging down half of its content, Jeongguk heaves a frustrated sigh.

“I can’t grasp his fighting style,” he grumbles to himself. His eyes are set on Yoongi, who’s on the other side of the room, drinking from his own water bottle. “Who the fuck ducks all the time while boxing?”

“Maybe it’s because you keep throwing angry punches at him, babe,” you say, initially to keep his frustration at bay, but instead it makes him raise his eyebrow at you in a duh way. You backtrack immediately. “Okay, okay. But it’s just your first time fighting him, isn’t it? Be patient, Jeongguk, and maybe let up your punches a little bit?”

“Baby, it’s boxing,” he says exasperatedly. “Someone has to throw some punches.”

“I know, but you just seem so … angry. Yoongi’s only ducking to dodge that. I’m saying maybe you can tone it down so he could stop dodging, so then you can see his fighting style better.” You’re saying this while gripping his biceps, hoping your words can go through his seemingly-clouded mind. “When you see his fighting style, won’t it be easier to figure out a way you can beat him? Isn’t that what you taunted him with at the cafe?”

You know it’s not even remotely possible to learn one’s boxing style just from a single fight, let alone “figure out a way to beat him”. Somewhere in his fogged mind, you believe Jeongguk stores this fact as well, he’s just currently too deep in frustration to place it in the front of his mind. You’re not even sure your suggestion to learn Yoongi’s fighting style is registered well in his head, considering your boyfriend is now back to eyeing your boss with fire in his gaze.

“Jeongguk?” You give his shoulder a firm grip as he puts his mouth guard back on. “Tone it down. Yoongi could just be waiting to punch back. You don’t want that.”

Jeongguk parts ways with you with an absent-minded nod and two pats to your head with his heavy gloved-hand. On the other side of the room, Yoongi looks ready to go back into his fighting stance. You sigh internally. Jeongguk is so going to punch him aggressively, again.

The next thirty minutes of the fight goes like a blur in front of your eyes. Jeongguk throws a hook that Yoongi dodges, Yoongi retaliates with a jab to Jeongguk’s side which makes you wince, rinse and repeat. Maybe you’re wrong about your boyfriend for once, you think, seeing his calmer fighting style now. With the way he left your conversation minutes prior, you really thought he was gonna continue raining punches on any part of Yoongi’s body he could reach. You’re relieved that that’s not the case.

Although, perhaps your relief came too soon because a boxing match isn’t over until it’s over.

Watching Jeongguk fight with Yoongi is like watching a cartoon character with an energy meter atop his head, except for Jeongguk, it measures his patience instead. As the minutes went on, you feel like you could see the patience meter above his head depleting until it’s all gone, and that’s the moment he went back to his initial fighting style: aggressive and angry. You almost pull your hair out in frustration because you just know that this is what Yoongi has been waiting for ever since the fight started.

The next thing that happens reminds you a lot of one fighting scene in Real Steel, where Atom was waiting for his opponent to run out of energy so he can fight back. In the movie, Atom knocked the other robot down with a final uppercut, gaining him a win and advancing him to the next round. Well, uh, in this case, just replace Atom with Yoongi and the other robot with Jeongguk.

Yoongi’s clean uppercut wiped your boyfriend out, who’s now lying on the ground clutching his face—which you’re sure is beginning to swell right now. Despite already knocking Jeongguk down, Yoongi is still in his fighting stance, never lowering his guard even as Jeongguk’s coach counts to ten. Your boyfriend remains immobile, though, and the second the count is up you’re running towards Jeongguk’s limp body.

“Gguk, are you okay? Baby, look at me,” you say hurriedly as you try to pry his arms away from his face. He doesn’t budge, and for a second, you’re scared that Yoongi has maimed your boyfriend for life. “At least let me know you’re alive,” you continue when his silence becomes concerning.

“Hmmph,” Jeongguk grunts. You heave a huge sigh of relief.

“Okay, good.” You run your fingers through his sweaty hair, trying to offer some comfort even though you know he had this coming. Gigantic ego, big talk, cocky as shit? Yeah, you understand that Yoongi would want to knock him down a few pegs. But now is not the time to launch into an ‘I told you so’ spiel, not when Jeongguk is still freshly bruised—both his body and his ego.

So instead, you lash out at your boss.

“I told you not to hurt him, Yoongi,” you snap-slash-whine, a frown on your lips. You thought, as the oldest among all of you, Yoongi could be trusted to knock some sense into Jeongguk’s mind without physically hurting him like this. As it turns out, all boys are the same.

The older guy just shrugs. “Probably wouldn’t get my point across if he weren’t knocked down.” He shakes the sweat out of his hair as he starts taking off his boxing gloves. When he sees you’re not impressed, he chuckles. “Relax, Kiddo, I didn’t even hit him that hard. He’ll be okay.”

“Really, Yoongi?” You roll your eyes. “You gave my boyfriend an uppercut just to prove a point!”

Yoongi just continues laughing as he chugs from his water bottle. His nonchalance about this is starting to piss you off. Maybe it’s your turn to put on the boxing gloves and sock him in the face, give him a taste of his own medicine. You scoff to yourself, picturing your own body lying next to Jeongguk if you really did that.

“Just tell your boyfriend here that there’s no need to be jealous of me, Kiddo,” Yoongi says, picking up his bag. Just then, Jeongguk’s coach appears with an ice pack in his hand, offering it to you so you can place it against Jeongguk’s swollen jaw. Despite your attempt to coax him out of his arm cocoon, he still refuses to move.

“Yoongi, look at him, you really broke him.” You’re flat-out whining now, kicking your feet like a child. It doesn’t even occur to your mind that you’re all still in the middle of a public boxing gym, with other people around you, being witness to this ridiculous scene.

“Oh my God,” Yoongi laughs before crouching down at Jeongguk’s legs. “Hey, Jeongguk, you hear that? Your girlfriend is worried about you,” he says, nudging Jeongguk’s leg lightly. “She only has eyes for you and your tattoos, too, you don’t need to be jealous at all.” You smack him on the shoulder for that.

Jeongguk finally removes his arms from his face at Yoongi’s words, his doe eyes menacing. “Go away,” he grits out at the older male, his scratchy voice making him sound less threatening than he intended. Despite that, Yoongi still holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Yoongi relents, standing up while adjusting the hold he has on his bag. “Was gonna go anyway, I have a date to get ready for,” he throws a grin your way. “Alright, I’ll be going first. Take care of your boyfriend, Kiddo.”

Yoongi retreats with a wave towards you both.

Jeongguk lets out a groan, shifting your attention away from your boss who’s already backing his car out of the parking lot. “Quit your job tomorrow,” he says. “I hate your boss.”

“Stop moving around!”

“It hurts!”

You’re both back at Jeongguk’s house now, with you sitting atop his outstretched legs on the bed, attempting to take care of his battle wounds courtesy of his fight with Yoongi. Aside from the swollen jaw, Jeongguk has a cut on his eyebrow and a split bottom lip. For a boxing match, you’d say these are minor injuries—proving Yoongi’s words right, he didn’t hit Jeongguk that hard—but your boyfriend is acting like a baby. He keeps jerking his head away every time the alcohol swab comes in contact with either of his cuts, it irritates you to no end.

“You have a goddamn full sleeve of tattoo and a lip piercing, quit acting like this hurts more,” you hiss, pressing the cotton in your hand to the cut on his lip as Jeongguk hiss back in response.

“At least when I got my tattoos and piercing, the artist didn’t do it while yapping my ear off,” he lisps through the cotton. “What happened to the caring girlfriend at the gym? Did she go away too, alongside Yoongi?”

“Oh, shut up, if I yapped back there Yoongi would’ve stomped on your ego more than he already did, do you want that, Jeongguk? Huh?” Your words are harsh, but you try hard for your hands to be the opposite, gentle as they cover the cut on his eyebrow with a band-aid. Jeongguk’s forehead is still damp from his quick shower earlier, beads of mint clinging to his skin. He might look smoking hot with his newly dyed hair, but the way the color rubs off on anything is starting to get onto your nerves. You wipe lightly at the color to make sure the band-aid sticks to his skin and does not come off the second he jumps around again.

“My ego is fine, you don’t need to protect it like this,” Jeongguk grumbles, adjusting the ice pack he’s holding to his jaw as you press a new cotton ball on his lip, discarding the one stained crimson red to his bedside table. “Maybe if you care about me as much as you care about my ego, everything would’ve been better.”

The way he’s rambling like he got his sense knocked out of his head as well makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head. “Don’t test me, Jeon. If I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be here sitting on your thighs patching your minuscule injuries like they’re fucking wounds from a war.”

“Maybe,” Jeongguk half-agrees, a pout on his lips. “But you haven’t kissed me even once ever since the fight ended. Do I not deserve a kiss because I lost? Do you not want to kiss me ever again because I can’t beat Yoongi in boxing? Do you think Yoongi is way better than me now? Do you want him to be your boyfriend instead of me?”

With every nonsensical question, his pout deepens, and his eyes droop to stare blankly at nothing.

“Hah, ‘my ego is fine’ my ass,” you mumble, mostly to yourself as you turn the gears in your head on how to stop the bleeding on Jeongguk’s lip. It keeps gushing out blood, and you can’t exactly stick a band-aid to it like you did his eyebrow. At last, you just hold a cotton ball against it and hope it stops bleeding soon.

“Yoongi was right, you know,” you say clearly now, the tumble of Yoongi’s name out of your lips making Jeongguk glance up and focus his sight on your face. “You don’t need to be jealous of him at all. Heck, you don’t need to be jealous of anyone, Jeongguk. I’m your girlfriend and will always stay your girlfriend, no matter what. You don’t need to beat anyone in boxing or dye your hair the exact same shade as anyone for me to stay. You, Jeon Jeongguk, are enough.”

Jeongguk’s eyes, gazing into yours, are glassy with unshed tears. You don’t know if they are there because he’s touched by your words or are leftovers from crying over his bruised ego from the fight with Yoongi. Either way, it throws you off balance. Next thing you know, you’re being tugged down by the nape for a kiss.

Jeongguk’s lips are warm, like usual, but the tinge of metal you taste on your tongue is making you worry. Before you lose yourself in his kiss, you pull away to thumb at his lip lightly, seeing streaks of red on your skin. You’re about to continue pressing the cotton ball in your hand to his lips and stop all forms of kissing immediately, but your boyfriend has a mind of his own as he instead sucks your thumb into his mouth, wrapping his lips around the digit delicately as he holds eye contact with you.

Gone is the trace of any tears from his eyes, now replaced by something you can only identify as lust. As flattered as you are that Jeongguk finds you desirable in your current situation, it also makes you confused. He’s hurt and the only thing in his mind is getting his dick wet? Unbelievable.

The ice-cold feeling on your waist tears your attention away from Jeongguk’s dark eyes as you yelp, hand instinctively prying the cold thing away. The ‘thing’ turns out to be his hand, which was previously holding the ice pack to his swollen jaw. He’s sneaked his fucking cold hand under your shirt to hold your waist when he should’ve kept holding the ice pack to his jaw—his swollen jaw!

Your boyfriend has a swollen jaw, a busted lip and a cut eyebrow. This is not the time to be screwing around.

Pulling away your thumb out of Jeongguk’s mouth at the speed of light, you attempt to climb off his lap, but he’s read your mind even before they are conjured up in your own brain. His hands are back on your waist—yes, the cold one too—and they hold you firm in place. The side of Jeongguk’s lips turn up into a sickeningly sweet smile, before he tugs your body towards his, making your hips come in contact with his crotch. He’s hard. Oh, fuck.

“You know, I never really understood why you’re so bratty whenever you’re horny and I can’t tend to you right away, but I think I get it now,” he says right by your ear, making a shiver run down your spine. “I’ve been trying to will away my boner ever since you sat on my lap, but your weight on it is so damn distracting, it’s hard.”

“So,” he punctuates the word with a kiss on your neck, “I started saying anything to get my mind off it, but the way you care for me just … turns me on even more, if that was even possible.” He noses his way down your throat, coming to a stop at your collarbone. “And then all that talk about how I am enough … holy shit, I lost it. All I could think about was how I want to kiss you and fuck you into next week on this very bed.”

You can barely hear the last few words Jeongguk is saying, because he’s mumbling them into your skin as he peppers kisses and nips there. His fingers are now pressing into your back, pulling you closer and closer to him until there is no space left between you. You crane your neck so he can have more room to splash reds and purples onto your skin, sighing to the top of his mint head.

“You know, for someone claiming to be horny, you’re doing a terrible job at dirty talk,” you jab at your boyfriend, earning you a bite on your neck and a tightened grip on your body, making you close your eyes with stuttered breath.

“Easy, babe,” Jeongguk chuckles. “You talk as if you won’t be a moaning mess by the end of this,” he continues with much confidence. “But also, my lip is still kinda bleeding and my sides are still throbbing from the bruises. Kinda debating should we continue or just go to sleep.”

“Jeon Jeongguk I swear to God if you leave me high and dry—”

“Maybe you should kiss them better,” he cuts you off with a suggestion, his lips still trailing butterfly kisses on your neck and collarbone. The hands still on your back sneakily climb up and up until they’re reaching for the clasp of your bra, easily opening it to free your breasts from its confines. Your sound of protest gets stuck in your throat as a strangled moan comes out instead when Jeongguk massages your breasts tenderly with his fingers.

“Maybe I would—fuck—if you get rid of your shirt,” you say, tugging on the offending piece of fabric still covering your boyfriend’s gorgeous body. It’s not fair that he’s got you half naked already and he’s still fully clothed.

Jeongguk parts himself from your body long enough to tug his t-shirt off from the back of his neck in one smooth motion, exposing the golden expanse of his skin to your hungry eyes. If you thought his mint hair was smoking hot with his shirt on, it’s literally burning a flame of desire deep in your belly with his shirt off. You’re tongue-tied as you marvel at the sight in front of you, you almost jump when your own shirt and bra are taken off your body.

Now both bare from the waist up, Jeongguk wastes no time leaning back in for a kiss on the mouth, this time open-mouthed so he can slide his tongue inside. You keen happily, slipping a sigh in between as he slowly lowers you to the bed. Jeongguk anchors his hands on your hips, teasing at the waistband of your sweatpants as he keeps your mouth busy with his own. In contrast, your hands are everywhere, from his broad shoulder to his firm back, from his bulging biceps to his rock-hard abs. You even tease your fingers past his waistband, grabbing onto his ass and squeezing, making him groan hotly into your mouth. It’s only when your fingers brush against his sides that he winces, reminding you of his earlier request.

“Flip around,” you whisper against his lips, “so I can kiss your bruises better.”

“Hmm?” Jeongguk hums, your words a murmur in his head. “But I like having you like this. Under me, naked, panting, wet,” he says, slipping his hand beyond your sweatpants to prove his words right—you’ve soaked through your panties. He drags a finger slowly up your center. You shudder.

“Yeah? I can be naked, panting, and wet on top of you as well.”

“Ooh, tempting.” Jeongguk licks his lips. He flicks your clit with a cheeky smile dancing on his lips, before settling his hands back on your waist. “Alright, I’ll flip over.”

The next second, you’re staring at him from up top, admiring how his mint hair looks against his dark grey bed sheets. Although, his hair is the least of your concern right now, as you’re tugged back down for another bruising kiss. Now that you’re on top, Jeongguk takes the opportunity to return the favor that is slipping his hand into your pants to squeeze your ass, but his version involves pulling your hips down while his thrusts up, creating a delicious friction between your body that makes you exhale a moan into his mouth.

You move away from his lips, down to his jaw where you take care to land a kiss light as a feather, before moving to his neck and collarbone where you have your own share of bites and licks. Aside from your infatuation with his tattoos and biceps, you actually have another one with his collarbone, this one you keep secret from him lest he goes around the house shirtless more often just to brandish his clavicle. But maybe he’s already noticed from the way you always make sure to cover that body part of his in blooms of red and purple, taking care to trace each and every bite mark slowly with the tip of your tongue.

While you’re busy with his collarbone, Jeongguk keeps dragging your crotch steadily over his, like he can’t get enough of the feeling and wants to keep chasing it. The delicious pressure on your center is a bit distracting, so you smooth your palm across his chest to pinch at his nipple in warning. Jeongguk lets out a broken whine from his throat.

“Stop humping into me, do you want to cream your pants?” you chide, fingers still giving tiny pinches to his nipple to keep him on his toes.

“Was trying to get you to cream your pants,” Jeongguk grins guiltily, his hips snapping up yet again to collide with yours. Even if you roll your eyes at his antics, you still continue your journey of kissing down his body, making sure to suck and lick on his sensitive nipples. You love the moans and groans that slip out of his throat every time you do things to his nipples. He likes it so much that his hips keep chanting up, searching for friction, that you have to pin them down so you can slide down to pepper kisses on his abs and waist.

Jeongguk works really hard to maintain the body he has, clearly evident in the eight pack he’s sporting on his stomach and the tiny, minuscule waist that’s way too slutty for a man to have. Sometimes you’re jealous of how nice his body looks, how firm it is to touch. You told him this one time, along with your regret that you couldn’t give him a similar experience, but he’d only laughed and said that admiring and appreciating him was enough, before proceeding to show you how he admires and appreciates your soft body (he kept biting into your inner thigh as he was eating you out, coaxing you into four orgasms back to back that day.)

And so, you admire his body by kissing the taut muscle one by one, tracing the lines outlining them with your hot tongue, caressing his bruised waist with the pillow of your lips and the feather of your touch. You know he’s hurt, but you can’t hold yourself from nipping on his slutty waist, gifting him another bruise that’s not a result of a punch. From the choked sob that rips out of his throat and the jump of his dick somewhere on your stomach, you take it he likes the bite.

“So,” you say as you mouth at the seam of his waistband, hand massaging his hard cock through his pants. “Do you want to cum in your pants, in my hand, in my mouth, or—?”

“Fuck, in you, please,” Jeongguk begs, eyes glassy from your ministrations. “But can we go back to dry humping for a while? Kinda like the friction on my sweatpants,” he breathes.

“Like this?” You move your hand up and down his cock, dragging the material of his sweatpants with it, paying special attention to the head. With every rub of the sweatpants against his head, a bead of precum comes out, with Jeongguk throwing his head back in silent pleasure. “Yeah, fuuck, that feels good.”

“But babe, want you, on top,” he demands, making grabby hands at you. “Was serious when I said I wanted you to cum first,” he continues, sighs in content when you oblige, resuming your position on top of him and lining your clothed crotch with his. He starts dragging your hips against his, building the pleasure up the faster he goes. “Want to fuck your swollen pussy, dripping with cum. Oh, I’ll slide right in, no problem, so wet, warm … fuuuck.”

The grip Jeongguk has on your hips is bruising, you have no choice but to let your body be manhandled by him. Slowly but surely, the band inside your stomach begins to tighten as your hold on his shoulders does as well. You’re so close, just one more move to tip you over the edge. When Jeongguk sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, the band inside you snaps and you come with a jerk of your hips and a whine from your throat.

Jeongguk slows down his move, taking care not to cum before being inside you, before stopping altogether and wrapping his arms around you to bring the both of you into a sitting position. Your limbs feel like jelly, still trying to come down from your high, when Jeongguk pecks your cheek before carefully lying you back down on the bed with your face down. He then maneuvers himself behind you, lifting your hips off the bed. You’re starting to have an idea what position he wants you in when he spreads your knees and slowly peels back your pants and panties to reveal your bare ass and pussy.

He takes his time caressing the globe of your ass, inching his fingers towards your pussy lips before spreading them apart, tearing a low whine from your chest. You guess he’s admiring the way cum still drips out of your cunt, because he’s silent, immobile for almost a minute.

“Gguk…” you whisper out. “You gonna fuck me or not?”

Jeongguk scrambles to get his pants off. “Fuck, yes, of course, baby, you just look so beautiful like this, I want to stare all day long,” he breathes, lining up his dick with your entrance.

God, I’m so thankful you’re mine, is his last warning before he slides home in one thrust.

Later, when you’re both freshly showered and cuddling on Jeongguk’s bed—with blue bed sheets this time, because you forced him to change the sheets as the grey ones smelled gross after your activities—you ask him a question.

“Are you still jealous of Yoongi?”

There’s a three second pause before Jeongguk’s answer comes. “Maybe a tiny bit,” he says, nearly connecting his thumb and forefinger together in a ‘tiny’ motion. “Of his boxing skills only. Amazing how he could still move like that with an injured shoulder. I want to be like that too.”

“You want to injure your shoulder?”

He gives you a flat look. You giggle.

“His shoulder is actually healed, you know, so he’s still actively boxing until now. He trains the boxing club at my campus whenever our coach can't, that’s where I know him from and how I’d gotten the job at his cafe.”

Jeongguk purses his lips. “So he lied to me.”

“Hmm,” you agree. “I figured it was to ‘teach you a lesson’, that’s why I asked him not to hurt you before your fight. Did you, though? Learn your lesson?”

“What? To not be jealous of him?”

You pinch his waist. “To knock your ego down a peg and stop feeling insecure whenever I interact with other men?”

“Baby, the guy had a nickname for you. My insecurities were valid!”

“You mean the ‘Kiddo’ one?” you ask. Jeongguk nods. “He calls Jimin Kiddo. He calls Eunbi Kiddo. He calls you Kiddo. He calls everyone younger than him, Kiddo.”

More silence ensues.

“So … my jealousy was for nothing?”

“Yes! What I’ve been saying!”

Jeongguk giggles. Then he kisses you. Then he giggles again, while still kissing you.

“How about an apology?” he offers.

“In what form?” you challenge.

“Round three?”

“No.”

Well, at least he’s not jealous anymore.

a/n: thank you for reading!! please let me know what you think of this, i literally almost cried in the process of writing it and when i finally finished it :') and yes this started because of that one mint jeongguk in memories 2020/2021, i think? the one with him in a black sleeveless and a pair of sunglasses, hahah. wish he'd dye his hair mint again (he looks rly good in it ugh)

→ request is open for my 1k folls celebration!

[someonegoood]

BRUISED HEARTS ✫ jeon jungkook

CONTAINS: boxer!Jungkook x reader, fighting turned bonding, emotional vulnerability, healing together, SOULMATES AU, mention of violence, past trauma, shared pain, fluff & angst, unexpected connection, fighting against fate....

NOTE: thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it!! this work hasn’t been revised, and english isn’t my first language, so please bear with me!!!! your feedback means a lot to me! 😊THIS IS A ONE PART STORY.

my main masterlist! ❀

From the moment you’re born, your soulmate exists somewhere out there—a thread tying two lives together, invisible but unbreakable. Yet, the connection remains asleep until your eighteenth birthday. That’s the moment everything changes.

The moment the clock strikes midnight, your body becomes linked to theirs. Every ache, every wound, every sharp sting of pain—they feel it, and so do you. A scraped knee burns against your skin. A broken bone sends you crumbling under the same pain.

It’s an unspoken law of the universe: soulmates share pain, but bleeding wounds always belong to the one who truly endured them.

For some, it’s proof of an unshakable bond, a guiding force leading them to their other half. For others, it’s a cruel twist of fate—linkedto a stranger’s suffering with no way to stop it.

And for you? It starts with a split lip the day after turning eighteen, stealing the breath from your lungs.

A sharp sting on your lip, the dull ache blooming across your face. You scramble out of bed, stumbling to the mirror, fingertips ghosting over the swollen skin. There’s no explanation. No accident from the night before. No memory of falling. And yet, the pain lingers deep in your bones.

And that’s when it hits you.

Your soulmate is hurt. And you have no idea who they are.

That was a year ago.

At first, the pain was relentless. It happened again two nights later—an ache in your ribs, enough to make you suffer with every breath. Then a bruise on your knuckles a week after that. It was slow at first, little reminders that somewhere, someone was fighting battles you couldn’t see.

You tried not to think about it too much. Tried to convince yourself it wasn’t your problem. But then the injuries worsened.

One morning, you woke up with bruises scattered across your face, purple and aching. Your mother screamed when she saw you.

"What happened to you?" she demanded, rushing over with wide, frantic eyes. You blinked at her, still groggy from sleep.

"I—I don’t know."

"Don’t lie to me!" Her voice cracked as she cupped your face, fingers trembling. "Who did this to you? Did someone—did someone hurt you?"

Tears burned at the back of your throat. "No one hurt me, Mom. I swear. It just… happened."

"That’s not possible," she whispered, her hands falling to her sides. "This isn’t normal."

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. "It’s the soulmate bond."

Your mother exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Oh, sweetheart..." She pulled you into a hug, holding you tighter than she ever had before. "You need to start covering them. People will ask questions."

So you did.

From that day forward, you mastered the art of makeup. Layers of it over bruises, carefully chosen clothes to hide what foundation couldn’t. Some days, the pain was just a dull ache. Other days, it felt like your body was breaking under the weight of wounds you couldn’t see.

You had to.

Now, the pain is back. It comes in waves, occasional bruises appearing on your skin like echoes of a fight happening miles away. You thought it was over, that maybe your soulmate had finally found peace.

But the fresh aches tell you otherwise.

Jungkook’s life has always been a battlefield.

He grew up fighting, not just in the ring, but for survival. There was no softness in his world—no warm hugs, no soothing words, no gentle hands to catch him when he fell. His parents were there in surname only, too preoccupied with their own lives to notice the boy slipping through the cracks.

So he learned early: no one was coming to save him.

Pain was temporary. Weakness was unacceptable. And anger? Anger was the only thing that was his.

He was fifteen the first time he stumbled into an underground fight. It happened by accident—one of the older kids at school had mentioned a place, a ring hidden near a park on the outskirts of the city. No rules, no questions, just fists and money exchanged under flickering lights.

Jungkook hadn’t gone looking for a fight that night. But when he saw it—the raw brutality, the way blood stained the concrete floor, the way the crowd roared with every brutal hit—something inside him clicked.

For the first time, he felt something real.

The next time he went... he wasn’t just a spectator. Now, years later, fighting is the only thing that keeps him steady.

“Why do you keep doing this?” his coach, Seokjin, asks one evening after a particularly brutal match. Jungkook sits on the locker room bench, wrapping his bruised knuckles with practiced ease. His jaw is swollen, a cut on his cheekbone still fresh, but he barely flinches.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at his hands, flexing his fingers. “Because I need to.”

Seokjin sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not an answer. You have talent, Jungkook. Real talent. You could go pro. Make something of this. But instead, you’re out there throwing punches in illegal rings for what? Money? Bragging rights?”

Jungkook lets out a humorless laugh. “It’s not about money.”

“Then what is it about?” Seokjin presses, voice softer now. “Why do you need to fight like this?”

For a moment, Jungkook hesitates. Then he exhales, leaning back against the wall. “Because if I stop, I have to feel everything else.”

Seokjin doesn’t push him after that.

Two years ago, Jungkook turned eighteen, expecting something—anything. But no pain came. No sudden ache, no phantom injuries. Nothing. At first, he waited, convinced that maybe his soulmate just hadn’t been hurt yet. But days turned into weeks, then months, and still, he felt nothing.

Soulmates were supposed to share pain. If he felt nothing, then maybe soulmates weren’t real. Maybe he was alone in this world.

One night, during a rare outing with his friends, the topic comes up. They're sitting at a bar, laughter mixing with the low hum of music. Taehyung leans back in his seat, tipping his drink toward Jungkook with a knowing smirk.

"Still no sign of a soulmate?" he asks.

Jungkook scoffs, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You know the answer."

Jimin, ever the romantic, frowns. "That’s... kind of sad, man. Doesn’t it bother you?"

"Not really," Jungkook lies, taking a slow sip. "Means I don’t have to worry about someone else’s pain."

Taehyung hums. "Or maybe it means they don’t exist at all."

Jimin shakes his head. "That’s not how it works. Everyone has a soulmate, Jungkook. You probably just haven’t—"

"I don’t believe in that crap," Jungkook cuts in, sharper than intended. "If I had one, I’d feel something. Anything. But I don’t."

The table falls silent for a moment. Then Taehyung raises his glass in a mock toast. "Well, soulmate or not, at least you can still drink with us."

Jungkook clinks his glass against Taehyung’s, forcing a smirk. But deep down, something unsettles him. A quiet thought he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

If soulmates are real, why hasn’t he felt anything?

The underground fights are ruthless. There are no rules, no referees to step in when things get too rough. It’s just fists, blood, and the roar of a crowd hungry for violence.

Jungkook thrives in it.

Tonight, he moves like a predator in the ring—sharp reflexes, calculated brutality. Every punch he throws is precise, every hit he takes with gritted teeth and unwavering focus. He’s fast and relentless. He doesn’t just fight to win, he fights to feel something. To punish himself for things he won’t say out loud.

And somewhere, you feel every single one.

Your body jerks awake with a sharp gasp, searing pain tearing through your ribs. Your vision swims, the force of a punch nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. You clutch your side, fingers pressing against skin that remains unbroken but throbs as if bruised to the bone.

You barely make it to the bathroom, bracing yourself against the counter as your legs tremble beneath you. Another hit lands, this time to the jaw, and your head snaps to the side as if an invisible fist just struck you. A choked whimper escapes your lips, swallowed by the silence of your empty apartment.

Whoever your soulmate is, they are fighting for their life.

And losing.

The next morning you tend to your aching body, carefully putting ointment over bruises that aren’t really yours. The motions are familiar, practiced. Once done, you take your dog for a walk, hoping the fresh air will clear your mind.

But the moment you get to the park, he takes off.

“Wait—Soo!” you call, but he doesn’t stop. He runs between trees, disappearing into the distance. Panic rises in your chest as you chase after him, heart pounding.

You finally catch sight of him slipping through a half-open door of an old shed. A strange chill creeps up your spine.

You hesitate before stepping inside, your voice trembling as you call, “Soo?”

The dim light reveals punching bags, weights, and a massive ring in the center of the room. The scent of sweat and metal lingers in the air. A gym—hidden, secure.

And then, a sound. A faint, almost imperceptible.

Your heart jumps. You whip around, breath shallow, eyes scanning the room. The space seems unnervingly still, the only movement coming from the dim, buzzing fluorescent lights above. But there’s nothing else. Nothing... until another sound. This one louder.

A figure steps from the shadows, taller than you expected, broad shoulders cutting through the low light like a figure from a dream. The knot in your stomach tightens, but you can’t look away.

You know who it is.

Your heart races, but not from fear—no, it's something else, something far more primal. It’s like your body recognizes him before your mind has a chance to make sense of it. A fleeting sensation of familiarity, as though you've seen him before… in a dream, or maybe in another lifetime.

His eyes catch yours—intense, almost possessive—like he’s been waiting for you too. His lips part, but he doesn't speak. His presence feels like a weight in the room, pulling the space around you taut, making everything feel infinitely closer. You swallow hard, a lump in your throat, unable to find the words, but a strange tug at the back of your mind tells you he knows you.

But how? Why does it feel like this moment was always meant to happen?

He steps closer, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick air in the room. There’s a quiet intensity to his movements, as if he's waiting for something, calculating your reaction. Your breath quickens as your pulse races in your ears, the distance between you shrinking.

"Soo?" you ask again, your voice trembling, unsure whether it's out of fear or something else entirely. You can’t quite place it, but something inside you stirs, a flutter deep in your chest, as though you’ve been waiting for him all along.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, his gaze holds yours, unreadable, before a small, knowing grin tugs at his lips. His silence speaks volumes. There’s something in the air, a strange recognition, an unspoken connection. It feels inevitable, even if neither of you understands it.

Jungkook stands frozen, his mind a whirlwind of confusion, and something deeper—a recognition he can’t shake. He’s drawn to you, inexplicably, even though every instinct tells him to stay back.

Jungkook thinks this can’t be real.

His mind spins with a whirlwind of confusion and something deeper, a recognition he can't shake. He’s always been cautious. Always kept his walls high. After all, the world had taught him that letting anyone in just leads to pain. But here you are, standing in front of him, and there’s a familiarity in your eyes—something that speaks to him on a level he can’t even begin to understand.

Why now? Who are you?, he thinks.

His eyes follow your every movement. Every part of him wants to know you, to understand why everything about you feels so... right. But the voice in his head urges him to retreat, to protect himself from whatever this connection might bring. He can’t afford to trust anyone again—not after everything he’s lost.

But the pull is too strong.

All of a sudden, a high-pitched bark echoes through the gym, breaking the tension in the air. The sound is so unexpected, so out of place in the heavy silence, that it startles both Jungkook and you.

Jungkook jumps, muscles tensing, eyes wide. The bark throws him off balance, and in his haste to step back, he bumps into something hard. The sound of metal crashing to the ground sends a jolt of adrenaline through him.

He stumbles, trying to regain his footing, but as he does, his shoulder brushes against yours. The unexpected contact makes both of you freeze.

A sudden wave of warmth rushes through you, more intense than any shock you’ve ever felt. It’s like a spark, an undeniable connection surging between the two of you.

You flinch, your breath catching in your throat.

"Auch..." you mutter under your breath, the word slipping out instinctively, and just like that, something shifts in the air. It’s subtle, but you feel it. The pull between you and Jungkook intensifies, and for the first time, the weight of the moment settles around you, overwhelming, undeniable.

Jungkook stands still, eyes wide as he processes the surge of emotion, the inexplicable bond between you. His breath falters for a moment, the realization dawning on him.

This is what it feels like.

You and Jungkook stand there, breathless, a shared understanding passing between you. Neither of you needs to speak because you both know.

You’re soulmates.

“Soo?”

That fluffy little dog. The one that had barked, causing the sudden, chaotic moment between you and Jungkook. The dog now stands quietly at your feet, as if it, too, understands the truth, playing its part in this strange, inevitable moment.

Jungkook looks between you and your dog, his confusion turning into something deeper. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes narrow, taking in the shift in your expression. Something clicks in his mind, a strange understanding flashing in his gaze.

His gaze flickers down to the dog again, and then back to you—realizing something that had been hidden in plain sight all along.

You take a deep breath, and the words rush out before you can stop them.

“I—I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice soft but filled with genuine regret. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to intrude.” Your gaze flickers down to the dog at your feet, still looking up at you with that familiar, innocent expression. “I was just looking for Soo.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. He looks at you, his eyes softening, taking in your apology. Then, after a long moment, he steps a little closer, the distance between you still feeling palpable.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says, his voice low but firm, like he’s already decided what he’s going to say. “But don’t get this twisted. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

His words hit you like a slap. For a moment, you’re stunned into silence. You can’t breathe. You thought the connection between you was undeniable, but now, it feels like he’s put up an unscalable wall between you.

“I don’t want this… whatever this is. I don’t need anyone to complete me, and I sure as hell don’t need you or anyone else to make sense of things.”

You open your mouth, but no words come. How do you fight against a rejection like that?

Jungkook turns away, the finality in his movement clear—this conversation is over. He doesn’t look back. The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating, leaving you standing in the aftermath of a connection that never had the chance to bloom.

Jungkook leans back against the cool metal of the bar, the bottle of beer in his hand nearly empty. His friends are scattered around him, the night still young, but the mood feels different tonight. The conversation from earlier keeps replaying in his mind, echoing in his thoughts.

“SO YOU REJECTED HER?” Taehyung’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and teasing, his eyebrow arched as he takes another long sip from his bottle.

The others look between them, all clearly waiting for Jungkook's response. There’s a lightness in the air, but it feels forced, like they can’t tell if this is some sort of joke or if Jungkook is dead serious.

“I didn’t reject her,” Jungkook mutters finally, his voice rough, as if the words don’t sit well in his mouth. "I just told her the truth. She was… looking for something I don’t want."

Jimin leans forward, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “So, Jeon Jungkook doesn’t want a soulmate?” He shakes his head, laughing lightly. “That’s rich, man.”

Jungkook’s eyes flash with irritation, and for a moment, the teasing vibe shifts. It’s not fun anymore. Something darker flickers in his gaze, something that says he’s not in the mood for jokes.

“I never asked for this,” Jungkook snaps, his tone harsher than he meant. “I’m not looking for someone to complete me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with.”

“Yeah, but you could’ve been a little gentler with it,” Namjoon adds, his voice calm but firm. “You’re not the only one with baggage, you know. But she... she didn’t deserve that cold of a response.”

“Did she do something?” Taehyung asks, his tone softer now, more thoughtful. “Remember the ring. When you’re boxing... she feels it.”

“Stop,” Jungkook mutters, the frustration and guilt creeping into his voice. He doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to deal with it. His jaw tightens, and a frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“She can’t handle me,” he finally says, his voice low, almost like a confession. “No one can handle all of this. I’m not gonna drag her into my mess.”

“She's already in it, man,” Taehyung shoots back, his words cutting through the tension. “You don’t get to decide that for her. She’s already shown she’s not backing away. She’s in this whether you want her to be or not.”

Jungkook falls silent, the weight of his friends' words sinking into him like a stone. He doesn’t know how to respond. The truth stings, but it also feels impossible to ignore.

A few weeks had passed since the encounter, and the tension still lingered in the air. It wasn’t easy to shake off, and you decided it was best to avoid him and that gym altogether. The thought of crossing paths again felt unbearable, especially when everything remained so raw, unresolved.

So, you made a conscious decision to stop walking past the gym—you started taking a different route home after university, deliberately steering as far away from the gym as possible.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had thrown himself into training. The big fight was approaching, the culmination of months of grueling preparation, and he needed to be at his best. But no matter how hard he trained, no matter how many rounds he sparred or how relentlessly he hit the punching bag, his mind kept drifting back to you.

He tried to concentrate on the fight, but all he could think about was the last and the first time he saw you—the pain in your eyes, the way he had pushed you away when he should’ve reached for you.

The night of the fight finally arrived, and the gym was buzzing with energy. The crowd outside had already begun to gather, their anticipation filling the air.

In the locker room, Jungkook stood, sweat dripping from his body as he tightened his gloves. His coach gave him one last pep talk, but Jungkook wasn’t really listening. His thoughts kept wandering back to you—wondering if you were still thinking about him, wondering where you were.

The bell rang, and the fight began.

Sitting on your couch you felt an odd pull deep in your chest, a force was gently tugging at you, calling you back to the gym. You tried to ignore it, to push it aside, but the feeling only grew stronger. Something inside you told you to go to the gym, so, against your better judgment, you followed that pull.

When you arrived, the crowd was already thick with excitement. The atmosphere was electric. You pushed through the sea of bodies, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. And then, you saw him.

Jungkook in the ring. He was a force of nature—each punch landing with precision, his body flowing like a dancer, but there was a raw intensity in his movements. He wasn’t just fighting his opponent; it was as though he was fighting everything inside him—the hurt, the frustration, the things he’d been trying to bury.

And then, it hit.

The pain. Sudden and sharp, like a knife piercing your chest. You stumbled back, clutching your stomach as the world spun around you. The pressure in your chest was unbearable, each breath harder to take than the last. You wanted to ignore it, push through it, but the pain only worsened.

You gasped for air, your body trembling, and with each punch Jungkook landed in the ring, the agony seemed to ripple through you. You pressed your hand to your stomach, trying to steady yourself, but the pain wouldn’t stop. You accidentally trip over a rock and fall to the ground, hurting your ankle.

And that’s when he felt it, a particular pain in his ankle.

Jungkook’s head snapped to the side, as though something had reached him through the chaos. He searched the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the sea of people, until it landed on you. His heart skipped a beat. There you were, clutching your chest on the floor, barely able to stand. His world tilted.

Ignoring the shouts from his coach and the crowd—he leaped out of the ring, pushing through the crowd as though nothing else mattered. His pulse hammered in his ears, and all he could think about was getting to you.

The crowd around you parted as Jungkook pushed through. You felt him before you saw him, his presence like a magnet pulling you toward him. His hand steadied you, his touch warm and strong as you struggled to stay conscious.

You looked up just as he reached you, kneeling in front of you, his hands hovering around you as if he wasn’t sure what to do. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with panic, and something inside him snapped.

“I knew you were here,” he breathed, his voice rough. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“I…” You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, the pain still gripping you. Somehow, being near him made it feel a little less suffocating.

“Stay with me,” he urged, his voice shaking with urgency. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

You couldn’t find the words. The pain still gnawed at you, relentless and all-consuming. You trembled, barely able to stay on your feet, your knees buckling.

“Hold on,” he whispered, his voice tight with panic as he scooped you into his arms. “I’ve got you.”

The crowd murmured, but it was a blur. All you could focus on was Jungkook’s heartbeat, thudding in his chest as he rushed you toward the back exit. His touch was gentle, yet desperate—his focus solely on you.

Once outside, he didn’t hesitate. He pushed open the door and called out to the driver, his voice strained with worry. “Get in the car,” he ordered. “We’re going to my place.”

You wanted to say something, to assure him that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The pain still gripped you, leaving you numb.

“You’re gonna be alright,” Jungkook murmured, glancing over at you before turning his attention back to the road. “I’ll take care of you. We’ll figure this out.”

When you arrived at his place, he didn’t let go of you. He helped you inside, his hands gentle as he guided you to the couch. His eyes never left you as he checked your pulse, your temperature, doing everything he could to make sure you were okay.

“I’m here,” he whispered, sitting beside you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His words were the only comfort you could feel as the pain started to slowly subside, bit by bit. You didn’t know how long you would stay here, or what would happen next, but there was one thing you were certain of: he wasn’t going anywhere.

The bathroom was small, the smell of antiseptic filling the air, the light flickering overhead. Jungkook stood at the sink, his shirt off, revealing the bruises and cuts from the fight. His movements were sharp, purposeful as he cleaned the cuts on his arms, his jaw clenched against the sting.

You sat on the edge of the tub, your body still sore from the pain that had brought you here. Jungkook had insisted on helping you, leading you to the bathroom, tending to your bruises with a professionalism that made it clear he was used to this kind of care.

You winced as he applied pressure to the bruise on your side. His touch was gentle but distant, his expression unreadable. The quiet movements filled the air, but there was an unspoken tension between you.

You didn’t know what to say, or how to bridge the gap between you. This wasn’t how you imagined the night would go—here you were, two people in silence, tending to each other’s wounds. You remembered how he had carried you, how you’d felt his worry despite the coldness he tried to show.

You said your name softly, breaking the silence. “Sorry for all this… for everything. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

“Jungkook,” he replied shortly, his voice clipped, almost dismissive. “It’s fine. Just… be careful next time.”

You nodded, feeling the sting of his coldness, but understanding. He was protecting himself. The sharpness in his tone hit harder than you expected.

“I should probably go,” you murmured, standing up slowly, mindful of the pain. “You’ve done enough. I—”

Before you could finish, his voice stopped you.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, his tone softer now but still holding that edge of distance. “It’s late. You shouldn’t be out alone.”

You didn’t argue. You couldn’t. You just nodded as he grabbed his jacket and slid it on, movements slow and deliberate. You left the bathroom in silence, walking to the car without another word.

When he pulled up outside your apartment, you hesitated. You didn’t want to make things awkward, but you felt the need to say something.

“Thanks for… helping me tonight,” you said quietly. “I didn’t expect any of this, but… I appreciate it.”

Jungkook didn’t look at you. His eyes remained fixed on the rearview mirror as he nodded. “Get some rest. Stay safe.”

You gave him a small nod, feeling the weight of his words. You hadn’t expected more, but still, something in the air felt unfinished. A moment of hesitation passed before you reached over, picking it up slowly. Jungkook’s eyes flickered to you, his face hardening immediately.

"I should probably have your number, just in case something like this happens again," you said, trying to make it sound casual, though you felt your heart racing. You didn’t want to push him, but you also didn’t want to leave things hanging.

He didn’t immediately respond, and you could feel the conflict inside him. He was clearly reluctant. But after a long pause, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before nodding curtly. "Fine," he muttered, a mix of frustration and resignation in his tone. "But don’t expect much from me."

You held his gaze for a beat, then typed in your contact information. As you handed the phone back to him, you caught a glimpse of the hesitation in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything, just took it from you without looking at your face. His fingers gripped the device a little too tightly, as if holding on to something he didn’t want to let go of.

"Good night," you said softly, opening the door.

"Yeah," Jungkook’s voice was quieter than before, and for a brief second, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes. "Get some rest."

You closed the door behind you and stood for a moment on the sidewalk, watching his car pull away. The night felt unusually quiet, almost too still, and as you walked to the entrance of your apartment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

He shook his head, trying to silence the thoughts. He knew he wasn’t supposed to care. He had made that decision a long time ago—no soulmates, no attachments.

But as he drove away, the uncertainty waved at him.

The next morning you sat on the edge of your bed, your phone pressed to your ear as you spoke with your mother. The concern in her voice was unmistakable, but you tried to keep the conversation light, not wanting to worry her too much.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, the words heavy with worry. “I saw the bruises on your arm when we last talked. Have you been getting enough rest? Are you eating?”

You glanced down at the fading bruises on your wrist, the reminder of the hectic few days that had passed. You hadn't told her about Jungkook yet—didn't want to add fuel to the fire of her concern. She’d only worry more if she knew about him.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you said, forcing your voice to sound reassuring. “I’m just a little clumsy, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Her sigh on the other end of the line was audible, but she didn’t press further. “Alright. Just take care of yourself, okay? And if you ever need me—”

“I know, Mom. I will. Love you,” you interrupted, hoping to end the conversation before she could say anything more. You needed the distraction, the escape, from everything that was weighing you down.

“Love you too,” she replied, and you could hear the concern still lingering in her tone before she hung up.

Soo followed you, tail wagging, oblivious to the storm of thoughts that were swirling in your head. You smiled weakly at the sight of him, kneeling down to pet him before you prepared to leave. “I’ll be back soon, Soo. Be good while I’m gone,” you murmured, trying to shake off the weight of the night.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. As you reached for the door to leave for your uni classes, a notification caught your eye. . You checked the screen, your stomach tightening as you saw the name that popped up.

Jungkook.

i don’t know how to make this easier for you, just stay safe

don’t get too close to me

It was cold, but there was something deeper in it, something that pulled at you despite the detachment. His words were sharp, but the underlying care was unmistakable, even if he couldn’t bring himself to show it fully.

You bit your lip, a mix of emotions washing over you. He wanted to protect you, but at the same time, he was pushing you away, keeping you at a distance. It was always the same—Jungkook’s confusion, his walls, his inability to be vulnerable.

There was no easy answer, no simple way to make sense of him, of what you were supposed to do with all of this. You ran your fingers over the edge of your desk, then typed a short reply.

i’ll be careful, but don’t push me away!!

i won’t disappear :)

You hesitated, staring at the screen for a moment, then sent it. What were you even expecting in return?

With a new sense of energy and warmth you turned to leave, Soo’s wagging tail following you out the door. As you stepped into the cool morning air, a sense of possibility filled you. Whatever this was between you and Jungkook, whatever he was trying to say, you felt a spark of hope that it wasn’t over.

The gym was nearly silent, save for the rhythmic hum of the overhead lights and the faint creak of the floorboards beneath Jungkook’s heavy steps. His fists were clenched, shoulders rigid with frustration as he stormed inside. The sting of his loss still burned in his chest, but the anger coursing through him had nothing to do with the fight itself.

Seokjin was already there, arms crossed, watching him with the kind of knowing gaze that made Jungkook’s skin itch. He didn’t need a lecture right now. He needed to hit something, to drown out the mess in his head with exhaustion.

"You lost," Seokjin said, his voice even but edged with something firm, something disappointed. "You weren’t focused. You let your emotions get in the way. You let her get in the way."

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. His pulse roared in his ears at the mention of you.

"I told you I don’t need anyone’s help," he bit out, his voice rough with frustration. "I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what to do. I’m fine on my own."

Seokjin let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. "It’s not about needing help, Jungkook. It’s about what you’re doing to yourself. You’re pushing everything away—everyone away. And for what?"

Jungkook’s chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. He hated this. Hated feeling like his insides were unraveling. Like no matter how fast he ran, the past—the pain—was always a step behind, waiting to sink its claws into him.

"You don’t get it," he muttered, shaking his head. "You don’t know what it’s like to feel like everything’s slipping through your fingers, no matter what you do."

"Then stop running," Seokjin snapped, stepping forward. "Face it. Face her. Face yourself. Because this? What you’re doing now? It’s not working."

The words hit harder than any punch Jungkook had taken in the ring. His breathing stuttered, his vision blurring at the edges as something sharp lodged itself in his throat. He turned away before Seokjin could see the cracks forming.

"I’m done," he muttered, voice tight. "I don’t need this."

"Jungkook—"

But he was already moving, shoving open the door and stepping out into the cold night air. His pulse pounded in his ears, hands still curled into fists at his sides. He didn’t know where he was going.

All he knew was that if he stayed, if he let himself feel any more than he already did—he wouldn’t be able to stop. And that terrified him more than anything.

You had just finished your last class of the day, your mind still tangled in the mess of notes and half-understood lectures. The weight of exhaustion clung to you, but it wasn’t just from studying—it was from everything. From the lingering thoughts of Jungkook, from the conversation with your mother, from the way your chest felt too tight lately.

And then you saw him.

Jungkook was walking down the street, head down, shoulders tense, his whole presence brimming with frustration. His eyes—dark and stormy—barely flickered as people passed him, lost in whatever war was raging inside him. But beneath the anger, beneath the cold detachment, you saw it.

Something broken.

He didn’t notice you at first, his mind too consumed by his own turmoil. But as you caught up with him, you called out his name softly, trying not to startle him.

"Jungkook?" Your voice was gentle, but it broke through the fog in his mind. He turned sharply, his eyes flashing with a mix of fury and sadness.

"What do you want?" His voice was harsh, sharp, like he was ready to lash out. "I’m not in the mood for any of this."

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t back down. Instead, you stepped closer, your tone steady, insistent. "You’re not going anywhere like this. You need to calm down."

"I don’t need your help," Jungkook snapped, his fists tightening at his sides. "Just leave me alone."

His jaw clenched, but before he could argue, you grabbed his wrist—not hard, not forcefully, just enough to ground him. His body was tense, radiating frustration, but he didn’t pull away. Maybe because deep down, he was too exhausted to fight anymore.

You shook your head, not willing to let him push you away. "No, Jungkook. You’re not fine. I’m not letting you do this alone. Come with me."

Before he could argue further, you guided him toward your apartment. You didn’t care about his anger, his desire to fight. You cared about the pain behind it, the way he was falling apart, and you weren’t going to let him suffer in silence.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, thick with unspoken tension. He moved stiffly beside you, every step heavy with something neither of you were ready to name.

Once inside, you guided him to the couch. He sat reluctantly, his eyes still dark with frustration. You disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, returning with two glasses of water. He took his without a word, staring at the liquid like it held answers he’d never find.

"Why do you care?" His voice was quieter now, but the edge was still there. "You don't know me at all."

You sat down next to him, close enough for warmth but not enough to make him retreat. "You’re human, Jungkook. You’re allowed to be angry, to make mistakes. But you don’t have to go through it alone."

Something flickered in his expression—hesitation, doubt, maybe even relief. His fingers curled around the glass, but he didn’t drink. He took a deep breath, as if he was allowing himself to finally feel the weight of everything he had been pushing down.

"I don’t know what to do anymore," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel lost. And it hurts."

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned forward, placing your hand gently on his. The contact was small, but it seemed to ground him, his shoulders slumping just a little as he let the tension leave his body.

"Just be here," you said softly. "Just for tonight. Let yourself feel it. You don’t have to have all the answers."

Jungkook exhaled, his head tilting back as he closed his eyes. It felt like a weight was lifting from him, just a little. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself lean into the moment, let the anger and the frustration subside, replaced by something quieter—something softer.

"Thank you," he whispered, barely audible. "I didn’t think anyone would be here for me like this."

As the silence stretched between you, the weight of the day slowly fading, you glanced at him, feeling a quiet resolve settle in your chest. His shoulders were relaxed now, his eyes softer than you’d seen them before. You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth in your heart spreading through you.

You watched him, your resolve settling. His walls were still up, but there was a crack now, a glimpse of the person beneath all the anger and resistance.

"You're not alone, Jungkook," you said, voice soft but certain. "I’m your soulmate, anyway. No matter how much you fight it, I’m here."

His eyes snapped to yours, something shifting between you in the dim light. It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t an argument. Just the truth—unshakable, undeniable.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. But then, barely there, the corners of his lips twitched, something small, something real.

And for now, that was enough.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

Jungkook was sprawled on your couch, flipping through channels with the kind of bored impatience that made you roll your eyes. His hair was still damp from his shower, a few strands falling into his eyes, but he didn’t bother pushing them back.

You were on the floor, leaning against the coffee table, scrolling through your emails when a notification popped up. Your brows furrowed as you opened the message.

You are invited to the wedding of Kim Namjoon & Seo Yuna…

Your eyes widened. "Jungkook."

"Hm?" He didn’t look away from the TV.

"You got an invitation to Namjoon’s wedding."

That made him pause. He turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Namjoon? Hyung is getting married?"

"Yeah. And it says we’re invited." You lifted your phone, shaking it a little.

Jungkook’s jaw tensed as he sat up properly. "He invited both of us?"

"That’s what we means."

His lips pressed into a thin line. You watched as he processed the information, his fingers tapping against his knee.

"You don’t have to come," he said after a beat, voice a little too casual. "It’s not like anyone expects—"

"I want to," you interrupted, tilting your head at him. "Unless you don’t want me to go."

Jungkook hesitated, eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. A few months ago, he would’ve found a way to push you away, to make it seem like he didn’t care. But now, he was different. Softer in ways he didn’t realize.

Finally, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "It’s just… a lot. Weddings, relationships—" He stopped himself, then sighed. "But if you want to go, then we’ll go."

You smiled, setting your phone down. "Then it’s settled."

Jungkook shook his head, mumbling something under his breath, but you caught the way his lips twitched, the way his fingers absentmindedly reached for yours as if it was second nature now.

Neither of you said it out loud, but the truth hung between you like a quiet understanding.

This wasn’t just about a wedding. It was about showing up—for each other.

Jungkook had spent months resisting, convincing himself that fate was something he could outrun. That having a soulmate was a burden, not a gift. But somewhere along the way—between the quiet moments where you stood by him without expecting anything in return, between the nights where you saw the parts of him he kept hidden from the world—something shifted.

He stopped fighting it. Stopped fighting you.

It wasn’t sudden, but gradual, like ice melting under the warmth of the sun. He still wasn’t perfect—still stubborn, still rough around the edges—but the walls he’d built weren’t impenetrable anymore.

Now, when you reached for him, he didn’t pull away. When you said his name, he answered without hesitation. And when he looked at you, really looked at you, he didn’t see a mistake.

He saw home.

A few days later, both of you were seated in the venue. It was breathtaking—golden chandeliers casting a soft glow over the polished floors, tables adorned with white roses, and a string quartet playing something elegant in the background.

Jungkook had been fidgeting with the cuffs of his black suit since the moment you arrived, but he looked effortlessly handsome, the dark fabric hugging his frame in all the right places.

"You clean up well," you murmured, adjusting the slightly crooked tie around his neck.

He huffed, feigning annoyance, but you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched. "Yeah, well, you look—" His gaze flickered over you, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Nice."

"Nice?" You raised an eyebrow. "That’s all I get?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it. His fingers ghosted over your wrist before he slipped his hand into yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Fine. You look beautiful. Happy now?"

Before you could tease him, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as Namjoon and Yuna made their grand entrance. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Jungkook straightened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

"Do weddings always feel this… intense?" he muttered, eyeing the scene.

You grinned. "It’s just love, Jungkook. Try not to look so scared."

His jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he let you pull him toward your table, where some of his friends were already gathered.

Throughout the night, you caught glimpses of something new in him. The way his shoulders eased when you leaned into him, the way his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on the back of your hand, the way his lips twitched in amusement when you forced him onto the dance floor despite his protests.

And then, somewhere between the speeches and the first dance, he leaned in, his voice quieter, more certain than before.

"I don’t know when it happened," he murmured, eyes locked on yours. "But I stopped fighting it. Stopped fighting us."

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words settling between you.

Jungkook wasn’t running anymore.

Instead, he was here—standing beside you, hand in yours, finally accepting that maybe, just maybe, fate had been right all along.

[hoshinasblade]

What you think Soshiro would do if he found out his gf was insecure about her stretch marks?

this is one of the most recent asks so thank u anon for sending!! im still in the process of going over my posts and editing some stuff (mostly changing my tags lol) and answering asks and putting them on queue. i just really like this one so im posting now (might have some typos as im in my phone hoho). hope u guys like it 🥰

"i don't know," you said as you try to bury your face on the big mug of beer you are drinking. "i haven't even been naked around him, like ever." the last sentence was almost a whisper, as if you were saying it to yourself more than confessing it to your nosy friend.

"aren't you guys dating for months now?" you were expecting this response, sure, but you don't think you were prepared for an answer at all. "honestly girl, your man is like, really hot," your friend picked up a french fry from the plate in front of you and took a bite before speaking again. "if that was me, i would be naked with him 25 hours a day."

"we only have 24 hours a day," you reminder her.

"exactly," she winked at you in response.

you did not want to admit it but your friend, a college batchmate from way back, was not entirely wrong. landing a guy like vice-captain hoshina soshiro was never in your bingo card, and truthfully, had it been another girl that he chose to date, you are pretty sure he would be getting some action.

yes, action meaning naked time.

sex.

it was not that you are a prude, or worse, a conservative who thinks that women are ought to be virgins otherwise they are worthless. and it wasn't also that you haven't done some things with your boyfriend hoshina as well, considering how you are very much aware how he's so good with his hands. no, the issue is that except for that one time during your fourth month together when it almost happened, you have not gone all the way with hoshina at all.

you simply attributed it to him being a gentleman, but hoshina did not dare ask when you stopped him that one time. but you should have known that at some point, he is going to want to know why it seems you don't want to be intimate with him.

"is it me?" he asked, trying to hide the slight hurt from his face. "i don't have bad breath, do i?"

count on hoshina to crack a joke during such a serious situation. he just got home from his scheduled weekend duty that night, and although claiming that he's exhausted from work, hoshina was apparently not tired enough. so a chaste peck on your lips turned to a heated makeout session that turned to him taking his shirt off.

he was kissing the soft skin down your neck towards your chest when you froze just as he was about to take your blouse off.

"come on, talk to me." hoshina's voice was gentle, and an annoying voice inside your head murmured something along the lines of how he deserves someone better, with how you're acting right now. "hey, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it. i don't mind. but if something's wrong, i'd prefer if i know about it."

you sighed. hoshina doesn't necessarily deserve someone better; he just deserves the truth.

instead of telling the truth, you showed it to him.

as soon your top was off, your fingers started tracing the thin, white lines on the skin near your ribs. these lines look like thread that stretch to your sides. you even have some close to your inner arms. you were avoiding hoshina's eyes when you pointed out how these stretch marks extend until your hips.

"i think i just feel weird about other people seeing it," you said. "i mean, they don't look pretty."

now that you've said your piece, you felt a bit relieved. in reality you know it sounds so shallow, superficial even. but as a girl - as a woman - you were no stranger to other people's expectations of how you should physically look. in the end, perhaps you just did not want to disappoint hoshina by showing him just how imperfect you are.

you were surprised when hoshina unbuckled his belt and began undoing the buttons of his pants. mouth agape, you just did not foresee this reaction.

"w-what are you doing?"

hoshina stripped until he was only on his boxers. stretching one of his legs out in front of you, his hand slowly lifted the hem of his underwear until you can see the flesh of his upper thighs.

"oh i have those too," he said, showing you white, indented streaks up to his hips. "i think you get them when you grow, i'm not hundred percent sure."

hoshina's forefinger continued trailing on his own skin. "it's okay if you don't think they're pretty, you know. not everything has to be beautiful. what you have to remember is that having stuff like this, is completely normal."

you should have known because it was after all the reason you love him - everyone might admire vice-captain hoshina soshiro mainly because of his leadership skills and out-of-this-world physique, you fell for him because he's the most reasonable and kind man you have ever met.

"i love you, you know that right?" you asked.

hoshina could only chuckle. "and all these time i was worrying you didn't want to be naked with me because you were hiding a tattoo of narumi's face somewhere there."

it was your turn to laugh. hoshina grabbed one of your hands, caressing it. "hey look, it's just skin, okay? it's just skin but it's still you." looking right at you, hoshina smiled. "it's still you, and i love you."

[gingeraleluke]

to my the boxer vinnie fans

when i tell y’all this next chapter is so fucking long, i mean it.

THE BOXER: CHAPTER 16, OCT26TH

[fics-lovebot]

jungkook fic recs pt. 1

main masterlist - jungkook fic recs pt 2 - - jungkook fic recs pt. 3

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

romantic dreams - ( @kooktrash ) yandere!jungkook, tattoo artist jk, boxer!jk, UGHH ITS GOODDD, he´s so toxic frfr, namjoon is sick of his ass lmao, totally obsessed with reader, jealous and possesive af, he´s crazy sdlfjs but i´m into it

toxic noona - ( @aajjks ) yandere!noona, toxic controling relationship, jk is a victim, he´d rather die than leave, reader likes to make him cry, manipulation

yours insanely - ( @smileyoongle ) yandere!jk, serial killer jk, detective!reader, he kills women who look like you, so interesting to read

darknet - ( @darkestcorners ) yandere!jk, the internet is scary, human trafficking, jk is scary dangerous, it´s a LOT, just wow

who is in control? - ( @ctrlsht ) yandere-ish, lawyer!jk, posessive jk, obsessive jk, toxic relationship, stalking, manipulation, secret relationship, he´s cray-cray

bunnytalk - ( @woncon ) bunny hybrid jk, owner reader, jk is a sad bunny bc reader won´t return his feelings but it´s all just a misunderstanding

night vision - ( @bonny-kookoo  ) e.r, alien!jk, suggestive, lowkey smut, bunny hybrid reader, jk has tentacles ,,,,,nothing else to say, flirty fluffy jk, this is dIFFERENTTTT i love it

closer - ( @blublublujk ) smut, step siblings au, noona reader, yandere!jk, jk is obsessed with him older step sister, WHEWWW this is intense, very detailed, loved it

your eyes tell - ( @angellesword ) soulmate au, angst, fluff, happy ending, artist!jk, lawyer!reader, "you live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?" a whole 2020 throwback, we don´t see fics with multiple chapters often, back then they were so good, like this one!

obsessed with your scent - ( @angelguk ) soulmate au, alpha werewolf!jk, omega!reader. jeongguk’s obsessed with your scent but he doesnt know he’s your mate bc you take suppressants. PLEASEEE I NEED A MOVIEEE, miss author you really made my 2020 better, thank you and ily

you make him go crazy - ( @onlyswan ) fluff, idol!jk, slight angst, multiple scenarios, reader is constantly making him go nuts, he is STRESSED lmao, it´s cute anyways, reader is kind of a careless brat but jk wouldn´t have it any other way

you wear his clothes - ( @nochukoo97 ) fluff, thing is...HE gives you his clothes, he´s so boyfriendd

screw up; over wine - ( @koocycle ) finance major jk x model!reader, first date drabble, he is really into reader so he takes her to a fancy pricey wine and dine but guess wHAT.. he is broke lmao so he straight up PANICS, lowkey highkey secondhand embarrasment but it´s jk so it ends in a cute way

kiss me better - ( @jaykaysthicthighs ) angst, jerk jk, mean jk, misunderstanding, manhandling, he is crying bc he assumed she was cheating but he was sooo wrong, now he is begging, crying, throwing up,,, they make up anyways, its angsty in a satisfying way

couple questions with vogue - ( @kjdkive ) fluff, e.r, idol!jk, supermodel!reader, I LOVE THISSSS, he is the best boyfriend/fiancé soon to be hubby EVER UGHHHH its so cute

devoted to trouble - ( @jeonsweetpea ) fluff, lil angst, smut, comedy, spiderman!jk au inspired by seven??? a masterpiecE. the world finds out he is spiderman but he dgaf bc he only cares about you, #pininggg, reader playing hard to get, man i love tHIS

show you what devotion is - ( @thvhoe ) boxer!jk, ballerina!reader, fluff, angst. you´re like his safe place, it´s giving exes to wannabe lovers, they deff like each other and jk wants to eat her uP but he´s wants it to be romantic and stuff, idk idk I liked itttt

you surprise him for his birthday - ( @nochukoo97 ) he´s so boyfriendddddd, this is so wholesome and cute

he can´t sleep bc he loves you so much - ( @onlyswan ) now THIS makes me want to drink bleach and die bc of how cute it is, THEY ARE SO IN LOVEEEE, there´s a lot of giggling, a lot of praising, a lot of disgustingly sweet loving talk after sex :´)))))) its such a good read i promise

fighting heart - ( @kooktrash ) boxer!jk, fluff, angst, he´s so stressed sldfkj, reader gets in a small accident and jk went crazy when a nurse answered your phone

daft pretty boy - ( @jeonqkooks ) basketball cap!jk, classmates to lovers ig, see he´s smart but when he´s with you he gets nervous and forgets how to exist, he lowkey confesses and he´s sraightforward with itt, he´s got a hUGE crush on you lmao

ride - ( @ohjeon ) strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, jk is a fucc boy on campus, reader has tattoos and rides the coolest bike, jk has an instant crush, love at firts sight i would say, got him blushing and sweating lmao, this is an on going series but I KNOW it´ll be gREAT, I love it already

in your arms - ( @kookslastbutton ) e.r, fluff, smut, morning secs, waking up by his side for the first time after moving in

encore - ( @jjungxkook ) game designer!jk, he is cool af, has a fat crush on reader, this is just the teaser of the fic but I really like it

crave you - ( @7deadlysinsfics ) idol!jk, crack, smut, fluff, hispanic choreographer reader, texting, taejikook, jk is HORNY but he´s a softie too, he´s got a big big fat crush, strenght kink bc we all know he can throw her around like a ragdoll

[cute-sucker]

boxer!rafe holding his baby for the first time, and knowing him he made sure you had a private room and good food.

tell me why he would be so jittery though ??

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

boxer!rafe never had gotten as scared as he did when you had given birth.

waiting. rafe had been waiting for hours, holding a lucky charm that you had given him. the strands of the bracelet were frayed as he toyed with it, over and over again. the smell of the hospital was nauseating, and the feeling of being in a place that smelt like antibiotics and sickness made his skin crawl.

he had gotten the call that your baby was born in the middle of a fight. he was on top of a guy before someone stormed in the middle of the fight. that was uncommon, and the referee quickly had them separated before rafe realised it was your work friend, delany. she looked frantic, as she tried to mouth something.

the minute he realised what it was, he was pulling the ropes of the ring, and yelling at people to get out of the way. blood was splattered across his mouth, and his swelling knuckles stung with pain, as his sweaty t-shirt stuck to his chest.

your water broke.

he was there in minutes, swearing as he tried to close the car. he'd run into the hospital with a huff, demanding to know where you were. to be quite frank it may have been sweet to you - but it was downright scary to the nurses.

a bulky guy with blood splattered all over him, holding a silly pink baby bag. the first nurse let out an uncomfortable laugh before telling him to sit down. now, rafe would have started yelling, but there was this drumming in his heart that made him feel as if he was going to vomit.

he couldn't lose you, no, this was a critical part of all of it. he'd read those stupid books that you had gotten him about pregnancy, and how dangerous it was, and how many mothers had died and how to hold a baby, and, and-

(goddamn it, he was scared.)

"mr. cameron. would you like to come in?"

he looked up to see a nurse with a painful smile, he took a deep breath before nodding his head. rafe felt his hands shake, as he took a step inside the room.

there you were, pretty as always with that discharge night gown, and a relieved sweaty smile on your face. you look so calm, but his eyes zone on your hands. the baby isn't in your hands, and he found himself wondering where the baby was, but he watched you get up to touch him.

"hey, hey baby. calm down. you need to stay like that," he muses, coming closer to rub your shoulders. you close your eyes, a soft gasp coming out of your mouth.

rafe gives you a soft peck on the shoulder, "why didn't you call me?" he whispers in that gentle tone of his. you squirm, peeling open your eyes with those pleading doe eyes,.

"i didn't want to bother you. i knew-" you gasped out, "i knew you had that important match and shit, and i don't know i thought it was like a bad time-"

rafe cursed, "didn't i tell you it was the two of us together? i shoulda' been there for you. shoulda' have held your hand through this shit-" and he knew he's going on a tangent as your lip wobbled and he quickly licked his lips while shaking his head.

"nah, it doesn't matter now. aw, my sweet girl did this all by herself. let me," he muttered, rubbing tears off your cheeks, "where's the baby?" you sniffled, nuzzling your face in his hands, before pointing to the sinks where he saw a small tiny girl.

she's squirming in the nurse's hands, as she gets washed off. her tiny face is squished up as she lets out small squeals. he's struck by how small, how tiny, how he made that little thing with you.

"i-" he choked up unable to take his eyes off your baby, "thank you sweets. thank you." his head bowed down into your lap, the words like worship. he was a devout in your temple.

"here's the baby, ms. cameron."

you looked up at her, a little bundle of joy as the doctor put her in your lap. rafe felt like everything was complete, feeling his throat sting and his hands get clammy. god, what did he do to deserve this?

the baby was perfect, a tiny sweet thing and rafe's hands shook at his sides as you looked up at him with teary eyes.

"do you want to hold her?"

he swallowed hard, his voice that soft whisper you knew so well, "can i?"

you laughed something that was so sweet, ringing in his ear like a song he never wanted to end. yet, he couldn't help but look at you with approval and when he looked into your eyes all he saw was love. all he saw was the truth. finally, he reached for his baby girl, calloused hands cradling her.

he finally had found his family.

[peachsayshi]

I have a question regarding the king, how did the press react to him retiring?

fic: the king (boxer!Sukuna x reader)

They are shocked. Sukuna is sitting at the peak of his career right now. He is the hottest and biggest sports star. He won a fight that ensured he remained undefeated.

He decides to make an announcement with Uruame. After much debate they both agree to release it on all his public social accounts instead of doing it live. Sukuna thanks his fans and supporters, before proceeding to say that he’s retiring. He knows he’s had an incredible career, and doesn’t shy away from boasting about it a little.

Somewhere in a training room, Satoru and his manager, Suguru, are standing with their eyes glued to their phone. Ryomen Sukuna takes them both by surprise when he says: “I’m glad my last fight was with a worthy opponent. Satoru Gojo has a strong future ahead of him”.

Sukuna has to face the press afterwards much to his dismay. There are interviews upon interviews, and they are fighting one another to get the exclusive details behind his retirement. They all hound him with questions, but also push a narrative like they are trying to convince him to stay, that it only matters if he’s the one fighting in the ring.

But Sukuna doesn’t give a shit. If anything watching the media/press flip into adoring him once more only makes him feel more secure about his decision.

The same people who accused of him of cheating, the same ones who fueled the fire that he was disloyal in his relationship, are now singing his praises. And that’s why, the only thing he’s conscious of during this time is you.

The last thing he wants is for press to pry into his personal life and use you as the fall guy. To pin point a villain somewhere and to turn his choice of love as the scapegoat to why he is giving up such a brilliant career.

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook (2) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

post match vibes

warning: mentions of stitches, needle, and blood

note: 2/5 parts for this mini series! thanks for the love w pt1! mwah

//

jungkook sits on the edge of the ever-so-familiar hospital bed.

his legs are spread, hands draped over his knees, and he fights the urge to shut his eyes as the overhead light casts sharp shadows over the planes of his face.

he can feel it—his blood dripping down the sides of his face. the fresh cut on his forehead stark against his skin and the throbbing almost makes him feel like shit. jungkook takes a deep breath and stays still as you prep the needle. though the sterile scent of disinfectant settles between you, jungkook is doing his absolute best to memorize the way you smell.

you smell so freaking good.

"i thought you said you were good at boxing."

your voice is light, but the weight of it presses against his ribs. he grins, dimples threatening to form despite the sting above his brow.

"i am."

"so i'm stitching you up because?"

his gaze flickers to you, dark and intent. "i've been lacking the motivation."

"to win?"

"to focus,” he confesses. “how long has it been, doc? 3 months? shit. haven’t been myself since then. every day i hoped someone would beat the shit out of me so i could have an excuse to see you.”

"so you got yourself beaten up just to see me? is that supposed to impress me?" you ask him unamused.

he shakes his head. "no, but my dedication to seeing you again is."

"do you ever take no for an answer?"

"did you even really say no to me, though?"

the air stills.

then, you exhale through your nose. pretending to be unimpressed at him before pressing the needle to his skin. as you wait for his reaction, you run through different comebacks.

but you're out of time. in fact, you barely had any.

jungkook doesn’t flinch.

it truly does impress you because this shot is a bitch. yet, you notice how his fingers curl into a fist against the sheets.

"it's okay if it hurts," you murmur. "it's not supposed to be painless."

his jaw flexes. 

"i can handle hits. stitches? easy."

"i never said you couldn't handle it. i said it's okay if it hurts."

jungkook isn’t sure what it is… but silence drapes over the room. like a heavy mist or early moving fog.

it’s thick and weighted. 

jungkook swallows. his throat feels dry. his mind races. 

all his life, pain has been an afterthought—background noise to the only thing that’s ever mattered; winning. to jungkook, if he isn’t bruised, battered, and bleeding by the end of a fight, he hasn’t fought hard enough. pain isn’t something to be acknowledged and dwelled on. it’s a consequence. a transaction. 

but now, here you are… speaking about it so simply and coated in acceptance and warmth. then, there’s also your motherfucking gaze. 

so soft. 

so kind. 

so present. 

all of these things mixed together make his stomach twist. he doesn’t know how to act. he does’t know what to say. he doesn’t know what to feel.

he wonders if this is what pain really feels like—not the kind he’s trained to endure, but the kind that sneaks up on you, curling around your ribs when you least expect it. he wonders if it’s because he’s spent so long numbing himself to it… or if it’s because, for the first time, he’s realized something worse than losing a fight…

losing the chance to keep seeing you.

because holy fuck. 

where have you been his entire life? 

seriously.

jungkook clears his throat, stretching out his fingers, forcing the tension from his knuckles. "so, doc," he starts, a smirk playing at his lips, "do you date doctors?"

you blink. "pardon me?"

"you don’t date patients, right? well, everyone is a patient at some point, but not everyone is a doctor. so, do you only date doctors?"

you almost laugh. 

almost.

"you just got seven stitches on your forehead and you're concerned about whether or not i date doctors?"

jungkook shrugs before dropping the most nonchalant information about himself; "i have a degree in nutrition, you know. used to specialize in sports nutrition. just wanted to give boxing a shot—"

"wow. i didn't know that. that’s really cool." you say, genuinely intrigued, "what school did you go to—"

"i won't quit boxing... at least, not yet... but if i ever do, just know that i can be a doctor too… if that’s who you date and shit."

“and shit?”

“and shit.”

this time, you do laugh. 

it’s so pretty. 

the sound of it and the sight of it—mesmerizing. 

it catches jungkook off guard. his eyes flickering over your face, lingering a second too long. he looks at you… he really looks at you and it’s like he just won the best thing in the world. like he’s a kid who won BINGO in his class for the first time and got to choose the scented eraser as his prize. 

he watches you and thinks; to have you is to win. 

you’re the only victory he wants. 

as he shifts forward to hop off the bed, your hands move on instinct, catching him before he can fully rise. your fingers press lightly against the firm muscle of his forearm, his skin warm beneath your touch. he stills at the contact, his gaze flicking down to where your hands steady him, then back up to your face.

for a beat, neither of you move.

the air shifts—thickens—his breath slowing as he watches you, unreadable. your pulse kicks up, just slightly, just enough for you to notice. but then jungkook smirks, lazy and knowing, the tension splintering just as quickly as it built.

"careful, doc," he murmurs, voice lower now, laced with something teasing, something else. "if you keep holding onto me like that, i might start thinking you care."

"you shouldn’t be jumping off like that so fast—"

"okay. whatever you say. hey, look at me," he says, voice quieter now, more deliberate. your fingers still against his arm. "i'm not bad looking, right? i have an education. i follow my passion, and it's going well—"

"again," you interject, "i just gave you seven stitches."

"again," he repeats, "i just needed a reason to see you."

"you requested me and refused to be treated by namjoon," you point out.

"exactly," jungkook smirks.

you bite your bottom lip, catching yourself before you react. suddenly, you’re aware of how close you are—his warmth pressing into your space, the scent of sweat and antiseptic clinging to him. his eyes are locked on yours, waiting, watching.

"___—"

"doctor ___," you correct, stepping back, straightening your coat, severing whatever was hanging between you.

"doctor ___..." he tests the words on his tongue, then nods. "i’d really appreciate it if you could reconsider the whole... only dating a doctor thing. honestly? i don’t mind school. i just don’t want to go back and be old by the time i get to your level… but if that’s really the only way you’ll go out with me—"

rolling your eyes, you brush off your coat, turning toward the door—just like last time. pushing it open, you pause before you step through. taking one final glance at him, you titl your head ever so slightly. 

jungkook mirrors you. 

"no, mr. jeon," you say, voice laced with amusement. "i do not just date doctors. in fact, i avoid dating them."

then, the door swings shut behind you.

jungkook exhales, pressing his tongue against his cheek, shaking his head as he lets out a breathless chuckle.

hope. 

that’s what this feels like.

he’s had victories before, ones that have left him bruised and battered, ones that have left him undefeated. but this? this is something else entirely. something he’s willing to lose for. something he knows, in the deepest part of his chest, he can’t afford to.

not this time.

not when it’s you.

[freedomfireflies]

Counterpunch*

Summary: The one where Harry comes back from a boxing match to find you overstimulated on the bed.

(Based on this concept!)

Word Count: 3.1k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, pain kink, size kink, overstimulation, squirting, daddy kink

By the time Harry returns home, you’ve already cum 5 times.

It’s been a long few hours. Three and a half to be exact. And in that time, you’ve been edged, teased, tortured, and spent. You’ve been left to sweat, writhe, cry, and drench the poor sheets beneath you. 

The vibrator between your thighs is relentless. As cruel and sadistic as the man controlling it from somewhere across town. A pre-programmed punishment that only ends for a few minutes at a time, giving you just enough peace to catch your breath before preparing to do it again.

When you hear the apartment door open, you’re thrilled. Your aching muscles call to him as you strain against the silky ropes keeping you trapped to the bed. Your voice is raw from the excessive whimpering and whining but you cry out his name, nevertheless.

And he’s fucking thrilled.

His smirk is wide and condescending as he leans against the doorframe to watch you. You catch his newest marks through the tears in your eyes. Tonight doesn’t seem to be as bad. He’s got a subtle bruise beginning to form near his eye and a faint cut along his eyebrow. 

But he doesn’t seem too concerned with his appearance. Rather yours. The way your skin is damp, the way your pussy is red and swollen, and the way your lips quiver as you plead his name and beg for mercy.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he murmurs in a soft, low call. And somehow, even just the sound of his voice helps calm you. “What’s your color?”

“Green,” you answer weakly, fingers curling into your palm. “Green, but…but please, Har…”

He chuckles to himself and glances toward the ropes around your wrists. He left them loose enough that if you had felt scared or wanted to stop, you could easily slip yourself free, turn the toy off, and call him. Something you were almost tempted to do at one point, but…the truth is, you loved the pain. You thrived off the idea of him coming to find the mess you’d made. That you’d been a good girl and done what he’d asked. That you took your punishment and you took it well.

He strides closer. Slow, like stalking prey. He looks now toward the vibrator between your thighs as it buzzes and hums in a rhythmic pattern, giving you just a taste of pleasure without ever actually letting you swallow. 

He smiles brighter. “Oh, you poor thing. S’all red, isn’t it?”

You nod weakly. “Can’t…can’t take it anymore. Hurts. And s’empty.”

“Empty, huh?” He tuts to himself and takes a seat near your left leg. Close enough to send chills down your spine as you catch a whiff of his cologne. You nearly cum for the sixth time right then. “I bet.”

You whine harder and attempt to reach him. But he’s still too far and your chest aches. “Harry, please—”

“What, Cherry?” He brushes a piece of hair from your cheek and the gentle touch of his hand makes you want to cry. “Do you need some help?”

You nod again, fast and fervent. Desperate to feel his skin on yours. Overstimulated or not, he’s the only one who can fix you. Make it better, make you whole. Fill you to the brim the way only his cock can.

“Yeah? Well, let’s see.” His eyes trail down your naked chest, along your stomach, and back to the toy. Studying it almost curiously before he reaches for the tie keeping it snug to your thigh and flicks it free. 

The vibrator is taken away, turned off, and discarded. Leaving your pussy to clench and unclench around absolutely nothing while he moves to the foot of the bed in order to see.

Slowly, his large hands push your legs further apart, allowing him just enough room to settle his body between. His face is inches from your throbbing cunt and the collection of arousal that’s drenched the sheets below and he seems thrilled. Exhaling a pleased breath that fans across your swollen clit and makes you jolt.

“Shh,” he coos, pressing your hips back down almost forcefully. “You’re okay, Cher. Just wanna check on you, hm? See how she’s doing.”

His thumb finds you first. Reaching out to swipe down your clit and through your folds as you arch from the mattress and gasp something pitifully close to his name.

“So sensitive,” he muses, almost to himself. “And so wet. Just can’t stop soaking yourself, can you, honey?”

You only gasp for air, desperate to squirm away from the painfully sweet sensation.

He flicks the digit across the delicate nerves and sighs to himself when he sees a large drop of your arousal drip down onto the sheet. “There you go,” he whispers. He shifts a bit to get closer before parting his lips with a gentle exhale.

And the feel of his breath on the swollen bud brings tears to your eyes. You’ve never felt this kind of pleasure before. The kind that hurts and feels euphoric all in the same wave. You want to push him away and drag him closer. It’s strange but addictive and you peer down at him through stained lashes pleadingly. 

He does it again, taking hold of your thighs in order to lift them toward his cheeks, as though caging himself between your legs and suffocating himself with your pussy. Giving you no other choice than to let him have you.

“S’so pretty,” he says between torturous breaths. “God, could stare at you all day, baby. Your little hole looks so sweet like this.”

He brings his hands back to your folds and spreads you. Giving him the perfect view of the way your hole flutters and begs for his cock. His finger. His tongue. Anything.

You mewl to yourself and watch the way those pretty green eyes of his glaze over with lust. “Harry…”

“What?” He glances up and smiles. Feigning oblivion. “What’s the matter? You don’t mind me playing with her a bit, do you?”

You find the strength to shake your head.

“Good girl.” He pulls your pussy back again before dipping down to ghost his mouth along your clit. “Taste like fucking heaven. Always taste the best when you’re desperate.”

He makes a V with his fingers to keep you spread and lets his tongue do the rest of the work. He flicks and licks and savors the taste. The slurping sounds are sinful and pornographic, and your entire body begins to shake as you’re teased.

“Har…Harry,” you mewl, desperate to reach for his curls. “Harry, it hurts—”

“I know. But this is what you wanted,” he reminds you, glancing up while you drip from his chin. “Color?”

You swallow thickly. “Still…still green, I just…I need���need…”

“Need…more?” That arrogant smirk returns. “Oh, I know, sweet girl. Just aches without me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, please—”

He hums, one large digit slowly pushing past your fluttering walls. “How’s this?”

A sigh catches in your throat. It’s good, but it’s not nearly enough. And after 5 orgasms already, you don’t want to be teased any longer. You want the main event.

And he knows this, which is why he pushes and pulls his finger from your cunt at a tortuously slow pace before adding a second. 

“Harry,” you wail. “Harry, please—”

“Uh-huh. If you complain, I won’t give you anything at all,” he tuts. He licks your clit while adding a third finger, too. “I’ve already been nice enough to let you have all this fun without me. Do you really want me to stop?”

Your bottom lip quivers. “No…”

“Didn’t think so.” He sucks you into his mouth before nipping at your clit with his teeth. Your back arches from the bed, tits covered in a glossy sheen of sweat, and his lashes flutter as he looks at you. “Fuck.”

You feel proud. Even when he’s trying to dominate you, he can’t help but be mesmerized by you. Desperate to adore you. Appreciate you. Let you know just how much control you really have over him.

Your fingers twitch, desperate to thread through his curls. And sure, you could slip yourself free now, but where’s the fun in that? You know eventually he’ll set you free and that moment will make everything else worth it. To hold him and be held by him. 

Still, this consistently slow thrusting of his fingers inside your used and abused cunt doesn’t scratch that itch. So you whisper, “Please…Harry, please I need you. I can’t…I can’t, it hurts, Har…please.”

“I mean…I’d love to, but m’having so much fun like this,” he coos with an air of false sympathy. “Besides, I don’t think your little cunny can take me right now.”

Your expression falls as you look down your body at him. “What…? Why?”

“Think she’s too sensitive,” he says, running his thumb back over your pussy while you whine. “Look at her. All swollen and pitiful. Think I’d split you in half if I tried, baby.”

“No…no, I can take it—”

“Can you?” He meets your eye while reaching into his sweatpants to pull his cock free. And the sight of him—red tip leaking pre-cum that’s just begging to be tasted—makes your mouth water. He is big. And maybe he’s right. Maybe it would ruin you, but the truth is…you want him to. “I’d have to go slow, and it might hurt with how overstimulated you are.”

You pout again. “I can take it,” you blubber, tears returning to your eyes. “Just let me try. Please…please let me try.”

He seems genuinely touched now as he watches you cry, moving up your body to press his lips to your cheek. The first time you’ve felt truly close to him in hours.

You sigh happily at the feel of his mouth near yours, even if he’s not directly kissing you yet. In fact, the warmth from his body is enough to slow the racing in your chest, and you whisper his name as he leans back.

“My good girl,” he praises, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up. “Brave girl, too. Just wanna make me proud, don’t you? Even if hurts.”

“Yes,” you agree softly.

“I know, Cher.” He kisses your other cheek, right over the stain of tears. “You know I don’t actually want to cause you any pain, don’t you?”

Another nod.

“Good. Because I’d never forgive myself.” He plays with your bottom lip a bit before smiling. “And honestly, I hated leaving you here like this. Knowing I wouldn’t get to watch.”

You nuzzle into his palm and trail your eyes down the parts of his body you can see. “Did the fight go okay?”

“Mhm. I won.”

“Obviously.” You giggle. “Are you in any pain?”

He dips down to brush his nose against yours. “Not anymore.”

You frown. “Har…”

“Not bad pain, I promise.” He shuffles back down between your legs and lines his cock up. “Plus, you know I like it.”

“I know…but I worry,” you tell him. “Some of those bruises look bad, Har.”

“I know,” he echoes. “But I’ll take some painkillers and be fine. Until then, I can pretend they belong to you.”

You feel a deep sigh leave your lungs when he brushes the tip through your soaked folds. Even now, despite his condescension…he’s careful with you. He knows what you’ve been through, and he never wants to give you more than you can take.

“Want you to do something for me, okay?” he calls softly before getting into position. “If it starts to hurt…I want you to bite down on my lip. As hard as you can. Deal?”

Your eyes widen as you nod quickly, anxious to have his mouth on yours. 

The moment he pushes in, he kisses you. Swallowing the heavy moan that melts from your throat.

You do as instructed, clamping down on his bottom lip when you feel that poignant stretch and he groans in response. And the two of you are nothing but a mess of noises and animistic fucking. His nails scratch down your skin, tongue dancing circles around yours. 

Then, his hand comes to your throat. The same hand that causes so much harm to the men inside that boxing ring. The same hand that’s been shattered, broken, and torn. The same hand that wears a variety of scars and scratches, and the same hand that you love more than anything in the world.

It closes around your neck, gently and purposefully. Enough to excite you but not enough to scare you. Instead, you succumb to it. To the weight of his body on yours. To the peaceful trance you feel lulled into as your mind grows distant and all you really understand is the feel of his hips slapping against yours.

“Cherry,” he calls after you’ve gone quiet. “Baby, are you with me?”

You nod lazily, lashes fluttering. “Yes…feels good.”

“Yeah? S’it making your little ache go away?”

“Uh-huh…feels good.”

He smirks. “Good. S’it getting hard to talk to me?”

“Mmm…”

He chuckles to himself before kissing you again. “Honey, I think you might be going into your subspace.”

“What?”

“S’okay, don’t worry,” he assures you gently. “Not a bad thing. Just means I’ve been playing with you so long that you’re starting to feel a bit…spacey. Needy, in a sense.”

“Oh.” Your brows furrow. “But I’m always needy for you. Does that mean I’m always in it?”

 He shakes his head. “This is a special kind of needy. And it means I need to be extra careful with you.”

“Okay, Daddy.” You stop, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’ve never called you that before.”

“No, you haven’t,” he agrees. “Do you want to call me that?”

You think. “I don’t know. Do you like when I do?”

He rolls his lips into his mouth before nodding once. “Honestly? I kind of do. But that name can mean different things for different people. And I don’t want you to say it if it makes you uncomfortable. I like to hear you say my name, too.”

Another pause. “I like it,” you decide. “Feels…dirty. But good.”

“Just like you.”

You giggle. “Then you can be Daddy?”

“I can be Daddy.” He squeezes your tit in his palm. “Fuck, I never thought I’d like that so much. But I really love the way you say it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He dips down to take your nipple in his mouth, giving it quite a bit of attention before moving to the other one. “Just reminds me how fucking sexy you are. Cause you are. You know that, right?”

You feel your skin warm and you try to hide in the crook of his arm. However, he quickly snatches hold of your jaw to force your eyes on his.

“Baby, you’re beautiful,” he tells you earnestly. “You’re so fucking beautiful and I still don’t know why you waste your time with me. But I’m very grateful. And I love you. A lot.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” you whisper, pushing your lips together as though begging for a kiss.

He obliges. “Think I should let you cum now?”

“Yes, please.”

With that, he fucks you. Hard and deep into the mattress with a tenderness you don’t imagine you’d ever find anywhere else. Because even when he spanks your leg and squeezes your throat and sucks on your tongue while demanding you cum undone for him…he loves you. You can feel the way he loves you through every brush of his body against yours. Every thrust of his cock into your rather abused pussy. Every promise of his adoration.

And it’s everything. You bite so hard on his lip, you taste blood. And he loves it. He curses to himself and begs you to do it again. So, you do.

He plays with your clit, pinching it tight between his fingers that are slightly stained with blood from tonight’s fight. He rubs and he presses and he uses you like some sort of toy. And maybe you are. Maybe you’re his to use and abuse any time, day or night.

And maybe you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Shit, know you’re close. Huh, baby?” he hisses in your ear. He moves his hand to your chest and gropes it in his large palm. “You trying to hold back for me?”

You nod. “Want…want to feel you first.”

He laughs before his features twist with pleasure. “Well, that’s not our rule, is it? And I know you want to, so…let Daddy feel you, okay? S’gonna feel so good…gonna soak my cock and clean it up. Make me proud.”

And you do wanna make him proud. Wanna do anything to make him feel good. Wanna make him throw his head back as he fists your hair and fucks himself down your throat. Stomach clenching…thighs flexing…back muscles rippling.

The image is lewd and beautiful and everything you’ve come to adore about your stranger from the diner. And just the promise of getting to be witness to his pleasure tips you over.

And you cum.

But you don’t just cum. You squirt. All over his cock, and his bedding, and his thighs, and your thighs, and you make a noise that sounds so depraved, you don’t even recognize yourself.

And through this orgasmic fog, you hear the way he moans your name and gives you two sharp thrusts before following suit. Along with soft whispers of, “Holy fucking shit, Cherry. My god…y’just squirted, didn’t you? Fuck me…fucking hell, baby, m’so proud of you. Did so good…so good, honey. Feel amazing…that was the best thing I’ve ever seen. You’re so goddamn hot.”

You feel proud, truthfully. Exhausted…but pleased. Because he’s so happy right now, a dopey little smile on his face as he drops his face into your neck in order to catch his breath.

“Was that…okay?” you ask softly, desperate to run your hands over his body the way you always do after he cums. 

“Baby,” he nearly sighs, “that was so much more than okay. That was perfect. Why, are you okay? You feel all right?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper. “That was…fun. Don’t think I’ve done that before.”

“Don’t think you have, either.” He lifts up to run his thumb over your cheek and study you. “Lot of firsts tonight, hm?”

“Mm.” You nudge yourself back into his hand and he laughs. “Daddy?”

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“…can you untie me now? So I can touch you?”

“Fuck—shit, yes. Sorry, baby.” He quickly reaches up to undo the knots and gently guide your hands out. Once your arms are back beside you, he offers a rather guilty look. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head and run your fingers down his back. “No…this is much better.”

“Good.” He gives you a quick peck. “I think you deserve a bath, hm?”

“Ooo, yes, please!” You pause. “Will you stay with me?”

“Cherry,” he nearly tuts. “Of course I will. Where do you think I’m gonna go, hm? I’m yours.”

Your eyes brighten. “Mine?”

He kisses you again and it makes your heart soar.

“Yours.”

Ew why did I miss them 😭 THANK YOU FOR READING, ILY SO MUCH AND HOPE YOU'RE ALL HAVING AN AMAZING WEEK AND WEEKEND!!! 💞

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

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Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

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[sonarspace]

BATTER & BRUISES, BOXER SUGURU (PT.2)

READ PART ONE BEFORE YOU CONTINUE !

SYNOPSIS: their sensual morning spirals into chaos as a call reveals the aftermath of their first night together. CONTENT: nsfw. fingering, oral kinda (fem receiving), nipple teasing?, sex on the counter, missionary?, sideways. WC: 2.8k

☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸

suguru wakes up just as the sun begins to rise, the soft light filtering through the curtains casting a warm glow over the room. instead of heading out for his usual early morning workout, he decides to make you breakfast.

you stir awake, a small pout forming on your lips when you realize his warm body isn’t beside you. the faint sounds of clattering dishes from the kitchen pull you further from sleep. you grab his discarded shirt from the floor and slip it on, the soft fabric falling just to the top of your thighs, wrapping you in his scent.

as you enter the kitchen, you see him standing there, an apron tied around his waist, his back muscles flexing as he mixes the batter. he’s so focused at the task that he doesn’t notice your presence.

with a soft smile, you walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. his skin feels warm beneath your touch, and you lean your head against his back, relishing the moment. he pauses, a grin spreading across his face as he leans into you, the warmth of his body enveloping you.

“good morning, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“thought you’d left me,” you reply softly, pressing a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades. he turns slightly, his hands finding yours, intertwining your fingers as he leans back against you.

“never,” he replies, turning slightly to capture your gaze. his eyes are bright, filled with affection, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

he continues stirring the batter at hand. “want to taste?” he asks, dipping a finger into the mixture and bringing it to your lips. you open your mouth, letting your tongue swirl around his finger, savoring the sweetness.

“sweet,” you comment, a teasing smile playing on your lips. you move from behind him, dipping a finger into the batter yourself. “not sweet,” you pout, glancing up at him.

his smile widens. without hesitation, you grab his finger and dip it into the batter again, bringing it back up to your mouth. “sweet,” you hum, your eyes sparkling as you look up at him.

he chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “you’re insatiable,” he says, amusement lacing his voice. leaning closer, he brushes his thumb over your cheek, a flutter ignites in your stomach.

he brushes his thumb over your cheek before pressing a kiss to your forehead, like it’s second nature—something he just has to do everytime he sees you smile at him.

“how’d you sleep?” he asks, pouring the batter into the muffin tray.

“like a champion,” you reply, and he lets out a hearty laugh that fills the kitchen.

you pull yourself up to sit on the counter, and he slides the tray into the oven before removing his apron and setting it on the counter. he places his hands on your thighs, squeezing gently. his smile is soft as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and your heart races, feeling like it might burst.

he steps between your legs, pulling them open wider, his fingers trailing dangerously close to your core. one hand grips your inner thigh, the heat of his palm seeping through your skin as the other hand tips your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. his eyes—so intense, so hungry, you can’t help but melt under his gaze.

“you’re gonna kill me,” you whisper.

his thumb lazily traces over your lips, eyes flicking to your mouth with a dark, amused smirk. “that’s not the plan.”

he leans in, his breath fanning across your face, fingers slipping higher up your thigh, dangerously close to where you need him most.

“what is the plan then?” you ask, breathless, your lips brushing his as you speak.

he presses his lips to your ear, voice low and dripping with intent. “the plan is to make you feel alive... and to worship you.”

his hand dips between your legs, cupping your heat through the thin fabric of your panties. a moan escapes you before you can stop it. his mouth ghosts over your jaw, trailing kisses down to your neck, each kiss leaving a mark, as if he’s claiming you.

with one smooth motion, he pulls your panties down and off, tossing them aside. his fingers find your wetness, teasing your entrance, circling it. “so wet already,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, “all for me.”

“suguru,” you gasp, hips bucking into his hand, craving more. he pushes a finger inside you, filling you slowly, his touch sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core. his other hand reaches up, brushing over your shirt, finding your hardened nipple and pinching it lightly. you let out a desperate moan, needing more of him, all of him.

he leans down, mouth closing over your breast through the fabric, his teeth grazing your nipple just enough to make your back arch off the counter. “suguru,” you whimper, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. he switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before biting down softly.

his fingers inside you curl, hitting that perfect spot that makes you cry out, your legs trembling around him. he moves them deeper, harder, finding a rhythm that has you seeing stars.

“you're so warm” he growls against your skin, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight, slow circles that make you squirm. 

“please,” you whine, craving that release.

“please what?” he teases, his pace unrelenting, keeping you right on the edge. “use your words.”

“i need to cum,” you plead.

“not yet,” he replies, pulling away his fingers just enough to keep you hanging. you whimper in protest, your grip on the counter tightening. “i want you to remember how this feels,” he mumbles, kissing along your collarbone.

"i can't... i need-" you stammer, caught between pleasure and desperation.

he shushes you softly, leaning down to listen between your thighs, his fingers moving in and out of you with a steady rhythm, creating a sultry squelching sound. the bandages wrapped around his knuckles begin to soak, your juices drenching them, a ring of white forming at the base of his fingers.

"listen to that," he whispers, voice thick with desire.

still leaning down, he pokes out his tongue to taste you. the sensation makes you moan softly, your body arching toward him, craving more of his touch. his gaze locks onto yours, dark and intense, the heat between you growing unbearable.

“can feel you tightening around my fingers,” suguru growls, his voice low and hoarse with desire as he grinds against your leg, unable to control himself. his tongue flicks over your clit, teasing you with slow, deliberate strokes, while his fingers pump into you, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

"put it in," you whimper, pulling off your shirt, voice raw and desperate with need. your body aches for him, every inch of you on fire.

he pauses for just a moment, sliding his fingers out slowly, watching the way your body clenches around nothing. a low, guttural groan escapes him as he hastily shoves his sweatpants down, letting them pool on the floor. his eyes are dark with lust as he positions himself between your thighs, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. the sight of him, hard and thick, sends another wave of heat pooling in your belly.

"fuck..." he breathes, the word slipping from his lips in a breathless moan as he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you with a pressure that has your back arching off the counter. every ridge, every vein drags along your slick walls, filling you completely. the sensation is so overwhelming, the heat of him almost too much to bear, but the pleasure—god, the pleasure—makes your toes curl.

"so tight," he mutters, voice trembling, his lips brushing against your ear. "you feel... incredible."

he sinks deeper, his cock buried to the hilt, and your walls flutter around him, gripping him tightly as if your body refuses to let go. you can feel the pulse of his arousal, throbbing with each slow, deliberate thrust. his hips roll in a languid rhythm, dragging along that sensitive spot inside you with every movement.

"suguru," you gasp, your nails biting into his shoulders as he thrusts deeper. the stretch, the fullness—it sends shockwaves of pleasure through you, lighting up every nerve ending. his pace is slow, torturous, each drag of his cock making your breath catch, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"you're perfect," he growls, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. "fuck, i could stay buried inside you forever."

he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty for just a moment before slamming back into you with a force that has you crying out. your legs tremble, and his hips snap harder this time, the force undoing the messy bun holding his dark hair. strands of it fall loose, cascading over his face, obscuring his eyes. he doesn’t even try to fix it—too lost in the heat of the moment, his focus locked on the way your body reacts to him, gripping him tighter with every thrust.

the sight of him—wild, unrestrained, his muscles flexing beneath a sheen of sweat, his hair falling over his face—drives you mad with desire. you reach up, brushing his bangs away, wanting to see him clearly, to watch the intensity in his gaze as he takes you apart. when his dark, half-lidded eyes meet yours, it pulls a moan from deep in your chest.

he leans down, kissing you with desperate urgency, his lips slanting over yours as if he needs you to breathe. his body shudders as your hands slide down his chest, brushing over his perked nipples. the moment your fingers graze them, a soft whine escapes him, muffled against your lips, and his hips stutter in their rhythm, faltering for just a second.

his kiss grows more frantic, deeper, as your fingers continue to tease his nipples, rolling them between your fingertips, dragging your nails lightly over the sensitive skin. every touch, every graze, sends tremors through him, his hips losing rhythm before slamming back into you with a groan. he presses harder, his breathing ragged, his forehead falling to yours as he pants against your mouth.

"fuck," he gasps, his voice trembling with need. "you're driving me insane," he mutters, as he struggles to hold himself together.

you take it as your cue, moving your lips from his, trailing hot kisses down his neck and over his collarbone, tasting the salt of his skin. when your mouth lands over one of his perked nipples, his gasp turns into a needy moan. his entire body twitches inside you, jerking with raw pleasure as you flick your tongue over the sensitive nub. his moan deepens, the sound vibrating through you as you suck gently.

“oh god,” he chokes out, voice hoarse with need. his hips falter, losing control as he presses into you harder, each thrust more erratic than the last. you can feel him throbbing inside you, on the edge, every muscle in his body trembling.

his hands find your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as his chest heaves with every breath. the muscles under your mouth flex, taut with tension as you continue to tease his nipple with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue. he pulls you away with a firm grip on your hair, his breath ragged, pushing you flat against the counter, his control slipping.

your body, glistening with sweat arches as he growls low, turning you onto your side, making you face the mirror. the reflection before you is intoxicating—a wild picture of sweat and lust, your skin flushed and shimmering in the soft morning light. his broad frame towers over you, moving in you relentlessly. the sight of him—his messy hair clinging to his forehead, muscles flexing with each thrust—makes you dizzy.

he plunges deeper, his rhythm unyielding, and catches your gaze in the mirror—your eyes wide, mouth parted, your body pliant beneath him. "my sweet girl's takin' me so well," each word a rough growl as he glances down to watch himself disappearing inside you.

your breath falters, the pleasure swelling into an unbearable wave, his cockhead pressing right against that perfect spot that makes your whole body tighten and toes curl. your fingers dig into his forearm, nails leaving little crescents in his skin craving more of him, all of him.

his body trembles now, every muscle wound tight with the effort to hold back, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, chasing the climax. without warning, he pulls you upright, one arm wrapping tightly around your waist while the other grips the back of your neck. his lips crash into yours, the kiss messy and urgent, his moans spilling into your mouth as his pace turns desperate.

“i’m so close,” you whisper against his lips, your voice shaky and breathless, completely undone by the intensity of it all.

his breath comes out in ragged pants, a deep guttural sound leaving his throat as his hips slam harder, more frantic. the slap of skin against skin fills the air, and his forehead rests against yours. "me too," he mutters through clenched teeth. "cum with me."

before you can respond, the coil inside you snaps. your orgasm crashes through you, leaving you trembling in his arms. "suguru! nnghh!!" you cry out, his name spilling from your lips as your walls clamp down around him, pulsing wildly.

his growl rumbles deep in his chest, his body going taut as he pulls out at the last second. his release follows, spilling hot and thick liquid across your thighs and lower belly. he slumps against you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, breath uneven and warm against your damp skin.

the beeping of the oven pulls you both from your haze, soft chuckles escaping your lips as reality creeps back in. he grabs a few paper towels, gently wiping away the remnants from your thighs and abdomen, a playful smile lingering on his face. “i’m gonna have to clean this counter.”

his lips brush against your hair as he steps away, pressing a soft kiss. he pulls his sweatpants back on and moves away to grab a mitt and carefully removes the oven tray, the warm aroma of freshly baked english muffins filling the room, making your stomach rumble in anticipation.

just then, your phone rings, the sound slicing through the cozy atmosphere. you grip his forearms as he helps you stand, your brows knitting together as you see your dad’s name lighting up the screen. a knot of anxiety forms in your stomach. he notices the shift in your demeanor.

you pick up the phone, forcing a calm tone as you say, “hello?”

“you broke up with marcus?” he asks, disbelief lacing his voice.

“yeah, umm, i was going to tell you, but—”

“he’s in the hospital,” your dad interjects sharply. “is this because of that lowlife boxer??”

the words hang heavy in the air, and your heart races as you glance at suguru, who watches you intently, concern etched across his features. you swallow hard, trying to steady your breath. “no, it’s not like that. it’s complicated.”

“complicated?” your dad snaps, frustration palpable. “what’s complicated is marcus’ situation right now. his face is beaten to hell, and his parents are calling me, asking what happened because all he can say is your name and suguru’s.”

guilt tightens in your chest, but you take a steadying breath. "dad, marcus and i… we aren't compatible. i couldn’t stay in that relationship."

“not compatible?” he echoes, his disbelief sharp. “he makes one comment about your outfit, and you just up and leave him? you couldn’t just talk it out like a normal couple?”

“it wasn’t just that, dad! it’s everything about him, i felt trapped!” a knot of emotion tightens in your throat. "i thought you'd understand."

"understand?" he scoffs, his tone sharp. "you expect me to side with you when you dump a good man to be with a boxer? i told you to stay away from that guy."

tears begin to line your eyes, your throat tight as you try to keep your composure. suguru notices immediately, stepping closer. without a word, he takes the phone from your trembling hand and hangs up.

"no, that was my dad—" you protest, your voice wavering, but he pulls you into his chest, wrapping you in a tight embrace.

"i don’t care who it is," he murmurs into your hair, his tone gentle yet firm. "no one makes my girl cry."

you cling to him, his warmth grounding you as the tears fall freely now. your phone vibrates between you both, the screen lighting up with another incoming call. when you don’t move to pick it up, the ringing stops, replaced by the buzz of a text from your dad, asking you to meet him.

☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸☼︎｡𖦹°‧𓂃 𓈒𓏸

A/N: are we liking the series so far?? let me know! and ask me any questions you'd like about boxer sugu :D

© SONARSPACE 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!