· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations
pls reblog if you like any of my recs and don´t forget to support authors!❤️
riding jungkook´s nose - ( @euphoricfilter ) we´ve ALLL thought about this, and if you haven´t you´re lying, periodt. pRAISINGGG, he´s in a pussy-drunk frenezy, he likes feeling used, he likes getting his hair pulled, he likes getting his face wET, it´s sickenINGGGG goreaditplease
fucking in the gym - ( @euphoricfilter ) this was inspired by that one pic of him and jimin with their back out, I SEE THE VISION, fucking with ceiling mirrors
wicked - ( @noteguk ) smut, incubus!jk, big big corruption kink, lots of dirty ploting and dirty talk, yupppp this is a good one, so detailed, love me a fic that lit makes me see what i´m reading
strings attached (to my heart) - ( @jungkoode ) smut, crack, fluff, IT HAS IT ALLL, spider man au, college au, spider-man!jk x journalist!reader. READ THE TAGS BC ITS GOOD AF, bc wdym you combined sub-loser-desperate jk who also has a noona kink wITH a superhero au??? it´s like you wrote it for me,, (also, this deserves many many more notes imo)
think i need someone older - ( @redcherrykook ) smut, whipped rich older bf!jk (PERIOD!!) x younger!reader. JESUS FUCKING CHRISTTTTTTT!!! no more words needed, this one´s pulled right out of my maladaptive daydreaming folder
fade into you - ( @nmjoo-n ) SMUT, fluff, fwb to lovers au. barista!jk, possessive obsessive toxic lovesick!jk (LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO). this is a whole 2022 masterpiece, they way this is written, and the way jungkook is borderline PSYCOTICH (or in love ig) for her is so hotttttttt. deff one of my favs
this is how you fal in love - ( @jeonqkooks ) fluff, smut, angst if you squint. rockstar!jk au, est relationship. this is beautiful, a 2022 gem. love love love how lengthy and detailed this is
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
— 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)
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.
pairing: boyracer!jk x fem reader - mutual disdain to lovers
synopsis
in which jeon jungkook hates speed limits, the local government, and the way that min yoongi looks at you.
current wc: 160,244
warnings: explicit language, drug usage, violence, dangerous driving, smut, and themes of an adult nature. not a mafia au, but teeters around the edges of it. organised crime and corruption are at the heart of the story. the characters have questionable morals and do dumb shit. be prepared to hate them as much as you love them. jungkook is a tittie luvr. no further questions.
specific smut warnings will be given at the start of each chapter - just know that jungkook loves tits, showers frequently and has a tongue piercing. oh and he's blonde he he <3 <3
cross posted to wattpad & ao3
minors dni | start date - late 2021
one - 17.8k
jungkook stops for gas. his receipt reads: petrol (38 litres), samgak gimbap (one), bottle of soju (one), curiosity of the cashier (piqued).
- dangerous driving, depictions of violence, foul language, alcohol
two - 13.4 k
you consummate a hypothetical marriage - but hey, on the plus side, at least you can't testify against a spouse, right?
- dangerous driving, smut, tipsy hookup
three - 7.5k
in the words of jimin, jungkook is 'all cock and balls, no brain', but luckily that's just how you like your men
- smut, car sex
four - 9.1k
jungkook is a pied piper. whether you like it or not, you know you'll let him drag you to the river, just for him to watch you drown.
- smut, the angst is upon us
five - 18.5k
you're 'just a friend from daegu' and jungkook is just a big fat filthy liar.
- smut, angst intensifies
six - 20k
with lovers like jungkook, there's really no need for enemies
- smut, angst
seven - 13.5k
jungkook sniffs powder how he used to sniff your hair; incessantly, obsessively.
- depictions of violence, drug usage, angst
eight - 16.5k
yoongi chokes; on your hand around his throat, on his unspoken feelings, and on the courage it takes to tell you he's seeing someone else.
- smut, infidelity
nine - 11.4k
you hate jungkook in the same way that teenagers hate their hometowns: no matter how much you want to run from it, you know it will always be the place you go back to.
➥ SUMMARY: Whenever he flies back into town, your doorbell is the first he rings. When he has to fly out again, your bed is the last he lies in. However, you’re not stupid. You know your ex-boyfriend, that also happens to be an up-and-coming professional boxer, Jeon Jungkook, doesn’t come to you only. Unfortunately, you have no right to be jealous, not when you’re the one that ended the relationship.
➥ GENRE: angst ⋆ smut ⋆ bit of fluff ⋆ exes with benefits
➥ CATEGORY: three-shot
➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, lots of arguing, angst so much angst, toxicity, strong language, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, reader gets a taste of her own medicine, slightly aggressive jk (not @ reader dw), cockblocker!yoongi, hater!yoongi, mean!yoongi, yoongi just cares about jungkook okay, another bts member cameo and he’s the only normal person in this frfr, a bit of jungkook pov, quick forgiveness bc they love each other so much guys like theyre such losers omg, mentions of.. THE NECKLACE… sorry in advance, oral sex (m. rec), unprotected sex (dont be dumb), rough love making, make-up sex, shirtless ck jk because why not…, kinda subby!jk for a moment… :D, creampie, mentions of edging, mentions of overstimulation, teasing, imo both reader and jk are extremely dumb in this tbh, minors DNI
➥ WORDCOUNT: 12.5k
a/n: ah. its the final part. i wanna take the time to thank you guys for loving this three-shot! the love reminder has received really did have me considering making it into a series (i really did) but honestly i think it’s best to keep it a three-shot. HOWEVER: i wanna write a lot of drabbles for it so look out for those!
a/n 2: ignore any mistakes u see or you are cloverphobic. not betaread.
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The distant thud of a car door slamming shut makes Jungkook jerk awake in his car. With a hiss, he slurps up the drool that had trickled down his chin from being knocked out and he shoots upright in his seat. He’s jetlagged as hell after flying out from Australia but he still insisted on seeing you first.
Unfortunately, when he knocked at your front door around 12AM, you weren’t home. Being his stubborn self, he decided to wait for your arrival in his car. He dropped Yoongi off at home and returned, parked in front of your door and waited.
But the sound of that car door slamming shut has pulled him out of his slumber. He looks out of the car window on his side, and there you are in the distance, dolled up and searching for your house keys in your clutch as you make your way to the front door.
Wearing a tight dress, hair did exactly the way you know Jungkook likes and from this angle he can’t see your face but without a doubt, he knows you’re absolutely gorgeous.
He takes his phone out of his pocket to check the time and the numbers on his lockscreen – which is a picture of his hand holding yours – tell him it’s 4:08AM. He’d been here for hours but all of it felt like minutes when he finally set his eyes on you again.
Right as he’s about to get out of his car, the figure of another person walks around the car you had just gotten out of. With a squint in his eyes, Jungkook tries to figure out who’s walking up to you right now.
A man, not much older than himself, holds you by your arm as he leads you to your front door. A frown creeps onto his brows when you don’t seem to have a reaction to this man touching you.
Jungkook watches as you keep digging into your purse, seemingly searching for your keys but that doesn’t matter to him anymore.
With a scowl on his pretty face, he silently gets out of his car and sneaks up on the both of you. He makes sure not to make any noise as he stands directly behind the unfamiliar man. Jungkook tilts his head to the side as he says, “She can handle the rest from here.”
He watches with a stern look in his eyes as you and the man slightly jump from the sudden interruption. Your head snaps in his direction and so does the man’s head next to you.
Jungkook can see the horror in your eyes as you come to the realization that it’s none other than Jeon Jungkook standing right next to you.
You’re staring at him like he’s grown a second head, Jungkook’s eyes trail your face and scan your features, committing it all to memory. Pupils dilated, a thin layer of sweat coating your forehead, lips swollen, remnants of lipstick smudged across your chin.
“Who’s this?” the unknown man asks you after the deafening silence that had settled around the three of you, a raise to his eyebrow as he turns his head to look at you.
You quickly compose yourself and clear your throat to speak but before you can answer, Jungkook butts in. “I’m Jungkook,” he says, cockily.
The man slowly nods to Jungkook’s introduction and opens his mouth to respond with his own name as he says, “Hoseok.”
Jungkook nods again after puffing out his chest with an air of arrogance and replying, “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. It’s awfully late, though. You should go home.”
Hoseok turns to look at you with a confused yet concerned look in his eyes, checking with you to see if it’s okay to leave you with this man named Jungkook.
You let a soft sigh push past your lips and give him a nod of reassurance. You place your hand on Hoseok’s bicep to wordlessly tell him it’s okay but he doesn’t look convinced. That’s when you say, “It’s fine, Hobi. Thank you for helping me get home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jungkook’s eye twitches at not only the nickname but at the fact that you’ve seemingly agreed to meet up with this man tomorrow. His gaze drops to your hand on Hoseok’s bicep and he rolls his eyes, fighting the urge to flex his own arms but quickly realizing how stupid he’s being.
Hoseok nods once he sees the sincere look in your eyes and slowly starts walking backwards whilst staring Jungkook down. Jungkook isn’t backing down, though, staring back head-on. Hoseok clicks his tongue and finally spins on his heels, making his way back to his car. He looks back one more time.
Jungkook hasn’t budged from where he was staring Hoseok down and Hoseok glances at you one last time before getting into his car and driving off.
Jungkook glares at the retreating vehicle until it has literally disappeared down the street.
With a frown on his face he turns to you but you avoid his gaze as you turn your keys in the keyhole, unlocking the door to your home. You don’t even hold the door open for Jungkook as you walk in, heels clicking against the tiles as you kick them off and make your way to your living room.
You toss your purse at the couch, watching as it tumbles to the ground with a loud clatter, spilling all its contents but you don’t seem to care as you turn to look at him once he closes the door behind him, in the midst of kicking his own shoes off.
“Why the hell are you here, Jungkook?”
His brows pinch together at your words, the urge to nibble on his bottom lip starting to creep up his spine. “What do you mean, why am I here?”
You stare at him for a moment longer with frustrated eyes and your lips pressed into a thin line, watching his every move but he isn’t budging an inch.
You shake your head as you start walking away from him but he quickly stops you, hand wrapping around your bicep as he tugs you back. “Y/N, speak.”
You glance down at his inked hand wrapped around your bicep and try to wiggle it out of his grasp but he doesn’t let you.
You scoff, “Seriously? I don’t fucking hear from you the entire two months you were in Australia and you have the nerve to come back and act like nothing has happened?”
Record scratch.
Jungkook can hear the cry threatening to spill from your throat and it stings him as bad as when he was punched in the mouth a week ago during a sparring match.
He’s usually gone for a week or two, never longer than that. Not only has he been gone for two months, he didn’t contact you at all while he was away.
He shakes his head, tugging you even closer to him. “You never hear from me when I’m gone, I always come back like nothing has happened! Why are you suddenly acting like it’s a big deal? We’ve been doing this for two years.”
You press your hands into his chest in an attempt to push him off but there’s no real strength behind it. “Because this time, it’s not the same!”
He quickly takes notice to your quickened breathing and the hurt in your eyes but he doesn’t comment on them and decides to stand his ground and defend his actions. “How is it not the same?”
The look of disbelief you give him has his heartbeat stuttering in its rhythm and his throat tightening as it starts drying out.
“Don’t act dumb, Jungkook,” you say, adding more strength behind your push against his chest.
He doesn’t budge nor respond, instead, he continues to stare you down with eyes that flicker with uncertainty and desperation.
You shake your head in disbelief again at his lack of response. “Last time was different. You know it was.”
Again, he has no rebuttal because he knows. He knows it was.
But Jungkook was scared. Terrified, even.
Before he reminds himself of how he’s felt the past two months, he changes the topic. “Who was that?” is all he asks.
Your brows pinch together as your eyes scan his face, dropping to his lips and catching the way he wets them with his tongue, a substitute for chewing on them. “What?” you ask him in confusion.
“Hoseok,” he pauses. “Who is he?” he asks, the face of the unfamiliar man flashing in his mind makes his blood boil all over again, fingers adjusting around your bicep to make sure you don’t slip from his grasp.
You can’t believe he’s deterring the conversation to this, apparent by the raise in your brows and the change in your pitch. “Are you serious?”
“Answer the fucking question, Y/N.” He closes the distance between you two, menacingly towering over you as he stares you down with his onyx eyes.
You huff in frustration and with a shake of your head, you reply, “He’s my friend.”
Jungkook nods to your words in mockery and then reaches up with his other hand, wetting his thumb with his tongue to wipe your chin clean of the makeup. “Friends follow you to your front door at 4AM with the same lipstick on their face that’s smudged across your chin?”
“Oh,” you begin with your eyes narrowed, “don’t you fucking start.” You wiggle your arm out of his grasp and this time he lets you, allowing you to make your way towards your bedroom. His presence is in your wake, following close behind you.
He ignores your words and as soon as the both of you enter your once-shared bedroom, he asks, “Did you fuck him?”
You groan, “No, Jungkook. I didn’t fuck him.” You start taking your jewelry off as you continue, “But friends do share New Year’s kisses.” You fully turn your back to him, tucking away your jewelry in their rightful place. “You didn’t even fucking wish me happy holidays.”
He sighs in exasperation, staring at the ceiling. He knows the fact that it’s New Years is why you’re dolled up, why you’re dressed like this, why you came home this late.
But that doesn’t make him hate it any less.
With a shake of his head, he says, “You know how busy I am, Y/N. There’s nothing more I would’ve wanted than to be here with you, you know that.” His tone has softened and he’s closing the gap between you two but he stops dead in his tracks when your head snaps in his direction.
“I’m not asking you to be here while you can’t. I know you can’t. I’m asking for at least a phone call.” You reach for the zipper on your dress right under your armpit, tugging it down to your hip. “Not even a text, are you fucking kidding me?”
He loudly exhales again, shaking his head as he throws it back and his gaze shifts up to the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows down what he really wants to say.
You bitterly chuckle as you eye the short distance between the two of you – he’s standing about two meters away. “Bet you had enough time for other people.”
Your accusating words make his eyebrows twitch and so, his response is immediate. “I didn’t fuck anyone.”
“Aht,” you say as you hold your hand up. “Don’t you fucking bullshit me,” you add, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
He shakes his head in disbelief, face turning to the side as his eyes shift to the wall on his left. He glares at the wall for a while, his hands on his hips and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
Then, he says, “Is he the one?”
Jungkook can tell by the way you sigh in exasperation that you’re fighting the urge to start yanking on your own hair.
“The one what?” you groan in annoyance as you start tugging your dress down your body, exposing your body in a matching underwear set and letting the dress pool at your feet before reaching for your bathrobe.
He rubs his face harshly as he adds, “The one you fucked.”
He’s still not looking at you but by your tone and heavened breathing, he knows you probably look like you want to bend over and scream until your vocal chords burst.
“I told you, I didn’t fuck–”
He immediately cuts you off. “I’m not talking about today. I’m talking about what you told me in the shower before I left for Australia,” he says. Then he repeats, “Did you fuck him?”
At that, you go quiet.
He closes his eyes at the silence, jaw clenching as you fidget with the ropes of your bathrobe and his own throat tightens at how you go speechless. You glance up at him with big eyes and a tremble in your chin.
At your lack of response, Jungkook finally looks at you, eyes dropping to your mouth, not missing the quiver in your pretty lips. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
You shrug your shoulders and finally find your voice after what seems like ages. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters.” He stomps the rest of the way over to you, menacingly towering over you. He adds, “I’m not buddy-buddy with the people I fuck.”
You tilt your chin to look up at him, brows knitted together and a scowl forming on your face. “Drop it, Jungkook,” you mumble, tying the bathrobe around your waist.
He closes whatever small distance is still in between you, his body pressed up against your arm before he leans down to directly say the next words into your ear, “Was he good? Did he fuck you good? Did he do the thing you like?”
You move your arm up, pressing your elbow against his chest in an attempt to push him off but he doesn’t budge an inch. “Stop it,” you warn.
He clicks his tongue and kisses his teeth with a loud smack, still not backing away from you. “Not so fun to be on the receiving end of that, is it?”
He’s right. You’ve been pestering him like that for years, always bringing up his sex life with other people to provoke him, to annoy him, out of your own selfishness. Why can’t he return the energy? Put you in that situation? Give you a taste of your own medicine?
You click your tongue in annoyance not only with him but yourself. Teasing him all those times has come back to directly bite you in the ass.
“Shut up, seriously.” You bump your shoulder into his as you make your way to the bathroom but he doesn’t let you get away that easily.
“Were you together? Or was it casual?” He follows close behind you as he continues to pester you.
“Jungkook.”
He doesn’t care about the warning tone in your voice or the scowl on your face. “I just wanna know. I wanna know if he knows I fucked you all those times too.”
You don’t even respond as you start taking your makeup off, ignoring Jungkook’s gaze through the reflection. He’s leaning against the doorframe, cockily staring at you through the mirror and you do your best to ignore him.
When it’s been quiet too long for his liking, he says, “Does he know you’ll always let me do whatever I want to you?” He begins to walk closer, closing the distance between you two until his chest is pressed up against your back and continues to menacingly stare at you through the mirror. “That you’ll never forget about me?”
You slam your makeup wipes down onto the sink with a loud thud, turning to face him. He’s completely pressed up against you at this point, caging you in between the sink and his own body.
You don’t even know what to say because that’s exactly how you’d talk to him ever since the break-up. You tilt your chin to look up at him. “Stop.”
He scoffs as he stares you down with intense eyes. He kisses his teeth with a loud smack and says, “Yeah, not so fun, is it?”
You ignore his provocations like he did yours all those times and move your elbows up to his chest, pushing past him to walk back into your room. Jungkook is aware that you’re constantly creating extra space between the two of you because his proximity will have you bending to his will.
He stays back this time, just quietly watching as you get ready for bed. He can’t ignore the sinking heart in his chest as your bottom lip quivers and your breath has gotten shaky, he can never be mean to you for long and he knows that.
He deeply sighs and shakes his head at his own antics. “Come here,” he mumbles as he makes his way to you.
You don’t respond, you just keep your back turned to him as you prepare your pillows and sheets.
He quietly sighs to himself as he wraps his arms around you from the back, halting you in your movements.
He turns your body to make you face him, his big hands firmly on your hips. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things.” He leans into the crook of your neck and nudges your ear with the tip of his nose. “You drive me crazy and it’s making me act a fool.”
Your arms stay limp by your side, your way of telling him you’re still mad at him but you turn your face slightly to give him more access to your neck like you’ll always do.
“I fucking hate how much I love you,” he whispers into the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbones, fingers digging through the fabric of your bathrobe to grip your hips tightly.
You sigh softly at the sensation of his lips on your skin again, your hands coming up to squeeze his biceps. “You’re an asshole.”
“I know, baby.” His voice is muffled by your neck but you feel the smile on his lips against your skin. “Didn’t like the taste of your own medicine?”
You grunt in response, pinching his biceps which makes him hiss and chuckle before pulling away from your neck to glance down at you.
“Will you let me kiss you?” he asks you, thumbs rubbing circles into your hipbones as his pretty black eyes roam your features.
“No,” you reply, moving your hands up to his chest and rubbing circles through his shirt.
His lips pucker up in a childish pout but he doesn’t push it any further, your proximity is enough for him.
“What’s the magic word?” you say.
His chest puffs as he chuckles, shaking his head. “Will you let me kiss you, please?”
You huff like a little kid that’s just finished throwing a tantrum but you nod your head to his question nonetheless, hands moving up to cup his cheeks.
His face closes in on yours and he presses his lips to your attention-seeking ones. He melts into your kiss, hands traveling up your sides to hold your waist tightly.
It’s been too long since he last saw you, so kissing you feels like a thousand years ago. He makes the most of it as he tightly holds onto your waist as if you don’t have breakable bones, as if you’ll slip through his fingers, as if you’ll disappear into thin air.
He slowly pulls back from your kiss. “I have something to show you,” he says as he reaches for something in his pocket. His phone seems to be in the way so he takes it out of his pocket and hands it to you so you can hold it while he searches for what he so desperately wants to show you.
You glance down at the screen as it automatically lights up and your eyes mindlessly drop down to the 3 hours old notifications.
[1:02AM]
René (AUS)
Are you still at the same hotel? Want me to come over?
[1:04AM]
René (AUS)
Missed call (1)
He watches your face twist into confusion and pain as his own eyes drop to where you’re looking at, the realization dawning on him like he got hit by a fucking train.
Jungkook’s body tenses up under your touch. His other hand drops from your hip and your eyes slowly trail to look up at him.
In a panic, he quickly says, “I swear, it’s not what you think. I swea–”
You don’t let him finish as you slam his phone into his chest and directly stare into his concerned eyes. “Fuck you.”
The way you say it with so much venom in your voice knocks the air directly out of Jungkook’s lungs.
He can hear an imaginary record scratch when you point toward your door and say, “Get out.”
Jungkook is stunned.
You have never made him leave.
You have never told him to just get out.
And for some reason, the ‘get out’ hurts even more than the vicious ‘fuck you’.
“Y/N–”
“Out.”
Jungkook shakes his head, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Don’t make me leave. Please.”
You immediately reply, “I want you to leave. Right now.”
He stares at the wall for a few moments as he gathers his thoughts. You stare at his side profile for a few seconds before you spin on your heels and head towards your bed.
As you plop down on your bed, you’re just in time to watch Jungkook dig in the pocket of his sweatpants and roughly throw something across the room, aimed right at the wall to your right.
You flinch at the clatter of a small box being smashed against the wall and turn to look at him with a frown etched onto your features.
He has never shown you any aggressiveness ever so you’re shocked at the sudden switch. “What the hell, Jungkook?”
He tugs on his long black locks before he quietly curses and turns, loudly stomping out of your room. The shuffling of him putting his shoes on reaches your ears and before you know it, the front door has been slammed shut.
Your hand sits on your chest, right over where your pounding heart is. You’re not scared of Jungkook and never will be but there’s a reason you don’t go to his matches. You don’t like seeing the boy with the entire galaxy in his eyes be aggressive, be angry, be consumed by hate.
When you’ve finally composed yourself, you take a few breaths to steady your ragged breathing. You deeply exhale and get up from your bed, walking over to the mini box and its spilled contents.
The small blue box is on its side, wide open and something shiny is sprawled out next to it.
Small tear shaped sapphire earrings that would fit perfectly with your estranged necklace.
The words – which you recognize as Jungkook’s handwriting – on the neon pink post-it that’s stuck to the inside of the lid shatters your heart into a million pieces.
‘Be my girlfriend (again)? :)’
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[6:30PM]
Hobi
I’m outside ^_^
You smile at your phone and apply your lip gloss as your finishing touch. With a final glance in the mirror, you give yourself a smile and a nod before heading into the hall and sliding your feet into your pumps.
You leave your home after locking up and quickly make your way down to the vehicle in front of your home before hopping into Hobi’s car, leaning over to give him a greeting hug.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks as he leans back and starts accelerating after you’ve closed the car door.
“Yeah. You?” you say as you buckle your seatbelt and open up the interior mirror above your head to check your makeup again.
“I’m fine.” He slows down in front of a red light and glances over at you. “What was all that about?”
“What?” you ask, already knowing what he’s talking about as you continue to check your teeth and waterline, ignoring the persistent lump that’s forming in your throat.
“Yesterday.” He returns his gaze to the road in front of him. “Well, more like this morning.”
You sigh and close the mirror, slouching in your seat as you glance over at him. “I’m sorry about that, Hoseok.”
Even if Hoseok was just helping you get inside, you feel bad about sending him away like that.
A chuckle leaves his mouth. “I know you are, I just thought I was seconds away from being decked in the mouth.”
You look out the window, pressing your lips together in an attempt at blending your gloss with your peachy nude lip combo.
“I know. Jungkook is just,” you pause, rubbing the scrunch between your brows.
He accelerates once the light jumps to green. “Is he the boxer?”
You merely hum in response, picking at the loose flesh around your manicured nails.
“You love him, right?” Hoseok’s question knocks the air right out of your lungs. The lump that had started forming in your throat has lodged down your esophagus and has unleashed a stream of lava that causes your heart to burn.
Your lack of response makes him nod his head, his hand coming to his jaw and rubbing his freshly shaven chin.
“And he certainly didn’t seem happy to see me,” he chuckles as he recalls the events of this morning.
“Yeah, well.” You nonchalantly shrug your shoulders. “He can’t just show up at my front door after two months of not talking to me.”
“Two months?” he repeats, leaning his left elbow against the window next to him and rubbing his chin with his hand whilst his other hand manages the gear shift and steering wheel.
You nod and cross your arms over your shoulders, adjusting the belt that’s digging into your neck.
He asks, “What was he doing for two months?”
You explain the events that happened two months ago, from Jungkook showing up to you telling him for the first time (again) that you love him. You explain the entire history between you and Jungkook, all the problems, all the love, all the pain, everything.
Hoseok knew you were still head over heels in love with an ex-boyfriend that also happened to be a professional boxer but he never pried. However, as he witnessed that embarrassing moment firsthand, you’re of the opinion that you owe him an explanation.
“Hm.” He thinks about what you just told him for a few moments, seemingly in deep thought. Unfortunately, you know Hoseok well enough to know when he wants to say something.
You turn your head to look at him, chest already tightening at the thought of him not agreeing with you. “You’ve got something to say.”
He looks at you for a moment before glancing back at the road. “I’m not sure you want to hear it.”
The raise in your brows indicates intrigue and surprise at his words. “Well, now you have to say it.”
He chuckles at the switch in your tone and parks in the theater’s parking lot before turning to look at you again. “To me, it just seems like he didn’t want to suffocate you again.”
“Suffocate me? He’s not going to suffocate me by texting me once in two months, Hobi.”
“No, I get that, and he is incredibly stupid for that but it seems to me like he’s so scared of losing you again that he didn’t want to ruin anything?” he explains, his point of view being a reminder that not everything may be what it initially seems to you.
You furrow your brows and part your lips to argue but Hoseok cuts you off before you can.
“What did he say after I left? Did he seem different?”
You think about it for a while. Yes, he did seem different, now that you think about it.
And then you’re reminded of Jungkook’s gift and his question. And at that, a surge of guilt spreads through your chest and starts bubbling up your throat.
“He, uh,” you start as you clear your throat, “he just asked who you were. The usual ex-boyfriend stuff. But he did kind of ask me to be his girlfriend again.”
He unbuckles his seatbelt and then turns to you. “So, I take it y’all made up, then.”
You shake your head, avoiding his gaze as you open up the mirror again to check if there’s anything in between your teeth to pretend you don’t care. “I told him to leave.”
“Why?” His brows are pinched together in confusion and you can see him aiming his frown at you in your peripheral vision.
You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly again, hoping to appear unbothered. “I saw his phone, one of his groupies texted him. Just wasn’t in the mood.”
“Did he text them or did they text him?”
You slowly turn to look at him as a frown climbs its way onto your brows. “What?”
Hoseok stares at your for a few moments in silence before repeating his question, “Did he text them?”
You idly blink at him, the image of Jungkook’s face when he swore it wasn’t what it looked like flashing in your mind. Fuck.
You quickly compose yourself and say, “I don’t know.”
Hoseok blinks at you for a few times with a slight pinch in his brows before slowly nodding. “Okay.”
“You want to say something again,” you groan loudly, rubbing the scrunch on your forehead to prepare yourself for what he has to say now.
Surprisingly, he chooses not to. “I’m not going to this time.” A chuckle leaves his mouth after he says that, shaking his head in the process. “Let’s go, the movie is about to start.”
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Australia, 1 week ago
With a big gulp, Jungkook slams his glass down onto the wooden surface of the bar he’s sitting at. He winces at the burning liquid sliding down his esophagus, bringing his hand up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.
He stares at his lockscreen, a smile creeping on his lips at the picture. His eyes trail your fingers and your hand, how well they fit in his.
With a tilt of his phone, he unlocks it using Face ID and opens the message app. He scrolls until he sees your name, it’s been over a year since either of you last texted each other. Like mentioned before, he always comes back unannounced and you always act like nothing has happened.
It’s how it’s been for two damn years.
His fingers slowly start hovering over your contact name. Should he text you? Should he not?
He shouldn’t. You told him the two of you would talk about it when he’s back. Maybe he’d scare you off if he were to text you right now.
Besides, he’d be back in town in five days anyways.
Right as he locks his phone again, he’s dragged out of his thoughts when a hand squeezes his bicep.
He snaps his head in the person’s direction.
“You gonna keep acting like you don’t see me?” Ashley – an ‘acquaintance’ of Jungkook’s – says as she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear.
(Read: acquaintance meaning a person he’d usually fuck if he was back in their country.)
“Oh,” he mumbles, his arm tensing up under her touch. Not to flex his arm but because he doesn’t want her touching him. “Ashley, right?”
“Hm,” she hums as she drops her hand from his arm, swiveling in her stool to face him, her knees pressed into the side of his thigh. “Doing anything tonight?”
He shakes his head as he continues to stare at the ice ball in his glass, his fingers fidgeting with the rim.
“Wanna do me?” she suggests, her feet making their way to rub up and down his calves in a teasing way.
He instantly regrets all the times he had her bent over his hotel couch, pounding into her from behind and kept his eyes shut to imagine he was fucking you.
He quietly exhales and rubs his eyes with the back of the knuckle of his index fingers as he looks for an excuse to reject her. “I don’t have any protection on me,” he mumbles, hoping she’ll get the hint.
Jungkook is responsible when it comes to his sex life. He’s quite literally always carrying protection. The only person he had ever fucked raw and would continue to do so are you.
So, these past two months he’d been walking around with nothing of the sort because he didn’t feel the need to. Now that there was that blossoming chance that he’d get back together with you, he’d wait for you.
He doesn’t want anyone else moaning his name, he doesn’t want to hold onto anyone else’s hips while pounding into them, he doesn’t want anyone but you.
“We could pass a nightshop on the way to my apartment,” she offers, her hand coming back to his bicep and sliding up his shoulder to his neck, the tips of her fingers playing with the ends of his hair.
The thought of anyone else touching him right now has goosebumps popping out of the upper layer of his skin and not in a good way.
“Let me use the restroom first,” he says as he gets up from his stool, subtly shrugging her hand off his neck in the meantime.
He looks her way for the first time since acknowledging her at the start and gives her the fakest smile he can muster. He walks around her and disappears in the sea of bodies that had started growing behind them.
He quietly makes his exit through a backdoor, standing in front of the building with his back to the door as it shuts loudly behind him. He tilts his head back and allows the infinite soft rain droplets to gently kiss his face and neck.
After a few more moments of enjoying the rain and distant booming music, he whistles at a taxi that he sees passing by and jogs toward it, hopping in the back before anyone else catches him.
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present
Damn Hoseok.
It just seems like he didn’t want to suffocate you again.
He’s so scared of losing you again that he didn’t want to ruin anything.
Did he text them?
Should you have heard him out?
You couldn’t even focus on that damn movie. Hoseok’s words and input kept clouding your mind, kept reminding you of maybe – just maybe – you were being unreasonable.
No, you’re not at fault for being upset that he didn’t say a word for two months.
You still think he’s an idiot for that.
Even if it’s been like that for the past two years. This time it was different and you’re not going to let anyone gaslight you into thinking it wasn’t.
But with how well you know his heart, his love, his passion for you, you should’ve known better. You don’t even know how long he’d been waiting in front of your door on New Years.
And there you were during New Years, opening up your front door with a man in your wake that had been in your (once Jungkook’s) bed.
You and Hoseok met at a party of a mutual friend one night and immediately hit it off. For the first time since Jungkook (about a year and a half after the break-up), you finally allowed yourself to let loose and do the thing Jungkook did to get his mind off of you.
You ended up having casual hook-ups with Hoseok, and goodness, was he amazing.
He fucked you good, touched you in the right places, said the right things, did everything right.
But he wasn’t him.
So, after about four months, you’d called it quits. Hoseok, being the amazing person he is, didn’t pry but insisted on staying friends and being there for you.
And that brings you back to the conversation you had with him in the car on your way to the movies.
He didn’t excuse Jungkook’s behavior but he made some good points, and damn him for that. Because now you can’t stop thinking about it. All of it. The worst being that Jungkook had planned to ask you to be his girlfriend again on New Years.
And thanks to all of that thinking, you find yourself in front of Min Yoongi’s front door a few days later.
Since you broke up with Jungkook, he never bothered to find a new place since he’s gone a lot. So, you assume he must be crashing at Yoongi’s when he’s not crashing at yours.
You raise your shaky fist and knock on the door.
A few seconds later, the sound of shuffling and keys jingling reach your ears and instantly sends a jolt of electricity up your spine. The door swings open and you make eye contact with his manager, his intense eyes make your heart almost implode within your ribs.
His frown at your presence almost stings. “What are you doing here?”
You look to the side as you swallow, hoping it helps you gather your courage. “Is Jungkook here?”
He scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Why?”
“I need to talk to him.” You turn your head to look at him again, hoping you look as determined as you feel.
He dryly chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. “So, you can kick him out at 4AM without hearing him out but he needs to hear you out because you’re the one that needs to talk now?”
You cross your arms over your chest to keep yourself from fidgeting and glance at the floor. “I want to apologize to him for that.”
“You want me to believe that?” He glances at his watch as if he’s unimpressed with your reasoning.
Gosh, why is he so stubborn?
Before you can even reply, he bitterly adds, “You need to quit playing with that boy’s feelings, Y/N.”
You finally look up at the older man, a quiver in your bottom lip and an imaginary bag of sand unleashing in your throat as your mouth dries out at his accusation. “I’m not playing with his feelings, Min,” you pause as you look away. “Please, just let me talk to him.”
“You can’t expect me to believe you came all the way out here just so you can apologize to him.” He slides his feet into his shoes, running a hand through his freshly cut hair.
He looks so nonchalant, as if what you’re saying is of absolutely no significance to him. The tightening in your chest tells you that you’re starting to lose your patience. “And why the fuck not?”
Yoongi’s eyebrows twitch as he takes a step closer to you, menacingly looming over you. You now know where Jungkook gets that from. “You could’ve texted him and he would come over in a heartbeat, you know that.”
“Let me stop you right there,” you say as you raise your hand, holding it up in front of his chest. “He’s not a fucking dog. I’m not going to text him so he can jump at every command. I know he would, which is why I took it upon myself to come here and personally apologize to him.”
Yoongi tilts his head to the side as he listens to your ramble, his arms crossed over his chest. You see the glimmer of something in his eyes but you can’t tell what it is, he’s always been too hard to read.
You drop your hand, wrapping it around the straps of the purse you’re holding in your sweaty palms to tug it over your shoulder. “So, will you let me?” you say after a few seconds of silence from Yoongi.
He narrows his eyes at you, still trying to read you and your intentions. But your sincerity is clear, evident by the fire in your eyes, your balled fists at your sides and the pinch in between your brows.
He takes a deep breath and steps aside to let you in. “Do what you want. I was about to leave anyway,” he mumbles as he slides his coat on and walks around you, heading out the front door.
He abruptly stops and turns to look at you one last time. “Don’t make him do anything stupid, Y/N. Or so, help me God.”
He stares you down as if he wants to obliterate you with a single blink of his eyes and with that, he leaves.
Jesus. What is his deal?
You clear your throat and compose yourself. You quietly close the door after he’s left, kicking your shoes off and make your way down the corridor, peeking into rooms until you find a door that’s shut. You try to open it but it’s locked so you quietly sigh before bringing your fist up and knocking softly on it.
“Can it wait ‘till tomorrow, hyung?” Jungkook’s groggy voice is muffled from behind the door.
Your chest tightens at his voice.
You shakily exhale as you drop your hand, your other hand still sitting on the door handle. “It’s me. Can we talk?”
Instant shuffling behind the closed door has butterflies eating your stomach from the inside out, your fingers tightly wrapped around the straps of your purse as you forcefully swallow down the bubble of panic that’s threatening to rush up your throat.
The door swings open and you’re met with bed hair, shirtless, sleepy Jungkook.
Your eyes drop down his figure but you quickly return them to his eyes, your lips pressed into a thin line.
His eyeballs are practically bulging out of his eye sockets at the sight of you here and his brows are dramatically pinched together but he quickly composes himself and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Why are you here?”
It stings, it does. You realize that asking him that day what he was doing at your place must’ve hurt this way. Burned this way. Stung this way.
“Jungkook,” you breathe out, your hands in front of your thighs with your fingers wrapped tightly around the straps of your purse as you swing it back and forth to distract yourself from the nerves creeping up on you.
He tilts his head to the side, parting his lips to answer your call but he closes his lips right away. The fact that he’s not replying is enough to have your heart stuttering in its rhythm, veins pulsating with fear. What if he tells you to get out like you did?
His silence makes you speak up and say, “I’m sorry.”
His expression doesn’t change but there’s a glint of surprise in his eyes. “For?”
“Everything.” Your reply is immediate.
He slowly crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re going to need to be more specific than that, Y/N,” he says with a stern tone in his voice that has your stomach twisting into a wringed out shirt.
You sigh as you watch him step backwards into the room again, leaving the door open for you, a wordless invitation.
He doesn’t even turn the light on, just goes back to sit on the bed but he reaches over to turn the flashlight of his phone on and turns his phone face down on the bed so it lights up some of the room.
You walk in and close the door behind you, looking around the room. You haven’t been here in a long time but not much has changed.
Your feet bring you to the foot of his bed, his eyes staring you down the entire time. “I’m sorry for sending you away and not hearing you out. I shouldn’t have done that.” You place your purse on his bed but stand in front of it still, anxiously fidgeting with the strap.
He continues to quietly stare at you which makes you continue, “I was,” you pause to sigh deeply, “I was upset because you didn’t talk to me.”
He exhales deeply and looks to the side, your eyes watching as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “You told me we’d talk about it when I was back.”
“I know I did but I thought I’d at least hear from you if it was going to last that long. I was waiting,” you explain, not missing the way Jungkook has nervously started nibbling on his bottom lip.
“I just thought that last time…” You shake your head as you continue, “I thought last time was different.”
He slowly nods as he returns the eye contact finally. “You’re right, it was,” he quietly says. “I’m sorry. I should have reached out. I was just scared you’d push me away again if I reached out to you just because you said–” he pauses as he glances at you and then turns his head to look away again, “those words. That you’d think I was too excited or something.”
Hoseok — a complete stranger to him — read Jungkook better than you. You should be fucking ashamed.
You gently rub your eyes to not mess up your eye makeup and then walk around the bed, moving to stand in front of him. He refuses to look at you, though, staring at his lap as if it’s playing a movie to him.
“Jungkook,” you start, “look at me.”
He slowly turns his head and tilts his chin to look up at you. If he notices the way your hand slightly hesitates before reaching out to him, he doesn’t show nor comment on it.
Your fingers delicately tuck his long black hair behind his ear, mindlessly playing with the shell of his ear.
“Will you hear me out this time?” he asks you, eyes twinkling with hope.
You shake your head. You don’t want to hear him out because he doesn’t owe you an explanation. “You don’t owe me anything, Jungkook. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
He wraps his fingers around your wrist as your own fingers play with his locks. “I want to. Will you let me?”
Your chest deflates as you deeply exhale at his stubbornness. “Okay.”
He reaches for his phone that he left face turned down on his nightstand and hands it to you. He’s telling you to check his phone to prove his innocence.
You shake your head as you push his phone away, you’re not that kind of person. You’re aware you and Jungkook don’t have the healthiest relationship but snooping in each other’s phones is something neither of you ever felt the need to do.
However, Jungkook is determined. “Just look at it,” he pleads.
Your eyes shift downwards as you curiously glance at the screen. It’s a text conversation between him and someone.
René.
You realize he’s showing you the full text conversation that you read last time and there are no replies from Jungkook at all.
[1:04AM]
René (AUS)
Why didn’t you tell me you were back in Australia? We could’ve gotten together and hung out!! Let me know when you’re back x
[1:06AM]
René (AUS)
Missed call (2)
You rub the scrunch between your brows and take a deep breath as the reality of the situation dawns on you. His words play on a continuous loop in your head.
I didn’t fuck anyone.
Jungkook had never denied it before. He would usually be quiet if you’d imply he’d been with someone. And if you think about it, that wasn’t even the part that made you upset. It was not hearing from him at all.
You push his phone back toward his chest when the text messages have mockingly stared at you long enough. “I’m sorry, Kook. I was such an ass.”
You continue, “This doesn’t change anything, I’m still a prick for not considering your feelings.”
He looks up at you through his pretty lashes, teeth chewing on his bottom lip which has reddened from all that nibbling.
You mindlessly press your thumb into his chin to make him release his bottom lip as you conclude, “Even if you did do whatever I thought it was you were doing, you have every right to. You don’t owe me a goddamn thing.”
“Just stop.” He shakes his head. “Don’t say that.”
You sigh as he dismisses your statements, he’s going to keep dismissing them so there’s no point in pressing him about it. “Well, I’m sorry. Are we good?” you ask as you tuck another lock of his hair behind his ear.
A soft smile stretches onto his pretty lips, his eyes glimmering like he’s holding the entire galaxy in his gaze, which is you. “Of course we are,” he says, eyelashes fluttering at you and if it was any quieter, you could probably hear the blinking of his eyelids. “Did you come all the way out here to apologize?” he adds, his voice quiet and uncertain.
No, you didn’t.
You slowly nod, sliding your fingers to his earlobe and down his jaw, rubbing his chin with your thumb. “I did.”
He nods his head and you notice the scrunch in his nose for a split second, a habit he has when he becomes emotional. Becoming emotional is the last thing you need right now so you avert your gaze to your purse on his mattress. “When will I see you again?” he quietly asks.
“You know where I live,” you say, telling him he’s always welcome whenever he needs you. You drop your hand from his face and reach for your purse, slinging it over your shoulder as you head towards the door again. The sound of him following behind you reaches your ears, letting you know he at least wants to walk you out.
It’s a direct parallel of whenever you walk him out of your house.
However, you change your mind and decide that right now is the best time to respond to his unanswered question.
“Actually,” you say as you turn on your heels, “I came for one more thing.” You take his phone out of his hand to use his flashlight.
He halts in his steps behind you and raises his brows, eyes shifting to your hands as you pull out a box from your purse.
You hold it out to him, shaking it slightly when it takes him too long to take from your hands. A frown sits on his brows for a moment but he takes it into his hands nonetheless, opening it to look inside of it.
It’s your estranged necklace, the one he gave you three years ago.
He glances up at you, his pretty eyes once full of love and hope now full of hurt and despair. His misunderstanding squeezes your heart until you almost can’t breathe under his pained gaze.
“You’re giving this back to me?” he asks, voice so small and barely loud enough to be heard.
You shake your head. “I’m asking you to help put it on me.” You turn the flashlight around to aim it at your face, allowing him to finally see the tear-shaped sapphire earrings he got you hanging from your earlobes for the first time since you walked in.
It had been dark in the room so he never noticed you wearing them until this very moment.
His eyes jump from your right ear to your left, the reality of the situation dawning on him like a pile of bricks. The smile that suddenly stretches onto his lips singlehandedly glues all the pieces of your broken heart together again.
He can’t contain his wide smile, fingers scrambling as he takes it out of the box. He throws the unimportant box somewhere on his bed and unclasps the necklace, wrapping the chain around your neck from the front, never breaking eye contact with you as his fingers fasten the chain behind your neck. He adjusts the pretty necklace around your neck and reaches up to play with the earring in your right ear.
You can’t help but smile at his giddy reaction, your fingers coming up to fidget with the pendant.
His hand drops from your earlobe to his side, fingers pinching at the fabric of his swears. “Is this a yes?”
(Read: He’s referring to the question he wrote on the post-it note.)
You shrug your shoulders with a smug grin and add, “Clearly it’s not a no.”
A soft chuckle leaves his mouth as he shakes his head at your teasing. His hands reach out and hold your waist, pulling you closer to him and your heart jolts in between your lungs at his proximity. He nudges your nose with his and respectfully drops his hands to your hips.
“Will you let me kiss you?”
The two of you giggle when you realize you’ve both asked each other the same question in unison. You bring your hands up to cup his face and press your lips to his.
He pulls you closer, closing the distance between the two of you as he tilts his head. His hands squeeze your hips and you hum into the kiss, moving your hands behind his neck so you can wrap your arms around his neck.
You pull away slowly and move to cup his cheeks, rubbing the apple of his burning cheek with your thumb.
“Stay the night. We’ll talk some more in the morning,” he says carefully, hoping you’ll agree.
You tilt your head to the side as his offer reaches your ears, a thinking pout on your lips before you part them to say, “I don’t think Min Yoongi would appreciate me staying over. He hates my guts.”
He stares at you for a moment longer and then glances at the wall. He knows you’re right. “He doesn’t hate y–”
You cut him off. “Yes, he does.”
“He hates what I let the relationship do to me. It’s not anything against you.” He tries to reason but you can’t forget the way Yoongi looks at you like he wishes you would just disappear into thin air.
He must’ve noticed the uncertainty in your expression. “I’ll lock the door,” he adds as he nods over your shoulder at the door.
“What are we, teenagers?” you laugh, rubbing his chest to make him look at you and he does.
He kisses his teeth after being in deep thought. “Okay, then just stay for a little while.” He pulls you down onto his bed, making you let out a surprised yelp.
You fall on top of him, hands still on his chest. You glance down at him and he’s got a shit-eating grin on his lips. He whimpers when you bring your hand down to slap his chest before you roll off of him to take your jacket off.
You toss the article of clothing somewhere across the room and your attention is disrupted when he wraps his hand around your wrist to pull you down and back into his embrace.
He pulls your back flat into his chest, arm hooked around your waist and his lips pressed into the back of your neck. He inhales through his nose and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder blade.
“I missed you so much.” He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your neck, not paying any mind to the goosebumps that he’s awakening directly under the soft flesh of his lips.
You hum in response and let your eyes flutter close. “I haven’t had sex in months so if you don’t stop kissing me right now, I’ll ride you for three hours.”
He chuckles and pulls away to say, “Aren’t we moving too fast?”
You roll your eyes at his stupid joke as you wiggle out of his grasp and sit up, your gaze shifting to him next to you, eyes scanning his cocky face. “You fucked me for two years, Jungkook.”
“Still.” He rolls onto his back to be able to look at you better and moves his hands up to place the back of his head on top of his palms, allowing you to look at the clear outline of his biceps and triceps. He adds, “We just started dating, you horndog.”
“Right,” you say as you mockingly nod your head and get up from his bed, starting to head out of his room. “Guess I’ll just ask Hoseok.”
By the time the ruffling of his sheets have reached your ears, you haven’t even made it halfway through the room. Jungkook drags you back by your bicep, pulling you backwards into the room. You let out a quiet shriek when he spins you in one swift motion, hooks his hands around your thighs and lifts you onto the dresser.
He wedges himself in between your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the dresser and holding you tightly by your waist, fingers draped over your ribcage. “You just love exploring my limits, don’t you?”
You chuckle and reach up to tuck his beautiful hair behind his ears with both hands. “You’re hot when you’re jealous.”
He shakes his head with a smile stretched onto lips, wrapping his arm around the perimeter of your waist to push your chest flat into his. “Yeah? I could also just text René right now,” he says as he shrugs his shoulders before adding, “ask what she’s wearing.”
Your face twists into a scowl as you press your hands into his chest in an attempt to push him off but there’s no strength behind the push because you don’t want to push him off and luckily, Jungkook is not budging.
You huff and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his jaw and leaving a trail of soft kisses on his honey skin. “You could but you won’t.” Your breath tickles him, apparent by how quickly you can get goosebumps to pop out of his skin.
“Hm,” he hums nonchalantly and tilts his head to give you more access. He adds, “You sound awfully confident.”
“Yep,” you retort right away, dropping your arms and placing your hands on top of the dresser, leaning back on them as you look at him. “Want me to show you how confident I am?”
He cocks his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side, contemplating your words. “And how would you show me?”
You blink at him, fluttering your eyelashes innocently as you push him back and hop off the dresser. You turn him around and press his back into the dresser.
You slowly sink down, squatting in front of him and caging his calves in between your thighs in the process.
You look up at him with an innocent twinkle in your eyes as you reach for the waistband of his sweats, waiting for him to give you the green light.
“Shit,” he breathes out before eagerly nodding.
A soft giggle pushes past your lips as you start tugging his sweats down his legs and letting them pool at his ankles. You’re faced with his black Calvin Klein boxers and fuck, does he look good.
You tuck your fingers under the hem of his CK boxers and slowly tug them down his legs as well. His dick isn’t hard yet but it’s slowly growing.
You place your hands on the outer-sides of his bare thighs and move your head downwards to take the head of his dick into your mouth without using your hands, pretty eyes still staring into his.
He curses quietly and places one of his hands on your head, staring down at you to watch your every move.
You keep your eyes glued to him, lashes kissing your brows with the same innocent glimmer in your pretty eyes. You continue to move your head down his shaft, feeling it harden in your mouth and grow heavy with blood on your tongue.
His dick starts rapidly inflating in your mouth but you’ve already completely lathered it in your saliva, making it easier for you to pump his base as you continue to suck on the first few inches of his hardened dick.
You slide your tongue down his shaft, tracing one of the veins down to his balls as you gently suck on them whilst pumping his shaft, your eyes never breaking the intense lock you have his gaze in.
He winces in sensitivity and his thighs tense in pleasure as you continue to suck on his balls, your thumb gracefully rubbing over the head of his dick every time your hand makes it up his shaft.
“Quit teasing me,” he demands but it comes out in a pleading tone, his hips slightly jerking as he tries to fight the urge to thrust into your hand.
“Quit teasing me, what?” you press a kiss to the side of his shaft, eyes menacingly mocking him as you refuse to look anywhere else. You love when Jungkook submits to you because he rarely does.
He grunts in annoyance. “Quit teasing me, please.” His hand on your head gently strokes your cranium, hopeful that you’ll comply.
But you have other plans.
You haven’t taken him into your mouth since you’ve started teasing because the moment you do, he’ll make you eat your own shit by mercilessly fucking your throat. And you’re in need of teasing him some more before you let that happen.
You lick a wet stripe up the downside of his dick ‘till you make it to his tip, collecting all the precum that had started oozing out of his dick onto your tongue. You teasingly lick all around the head, the tip of your tongue sliding in between his slit which makes him hiss.
“Y/N,” he warns, trying to sound stern but his mouth betrays him when a soft, desperate moan pushes past his lips right after he says your name.
You simply hum in response. He can sound stern all he wants to but you’re the one in control, not him.
One of your hands abandons his thigh, letting the cold air hit the warm spot on his skin that your hand has left and you bring it up to massage his balls, tongue still wickedly teasing his slit.
You innocently blink up at him as you start pressing kisses to his tip, the precum sticking to your lips as you leave a sloppy trail of kisses down his shaft.
“Y/N, please,” he whimpers.
The moment his plea reaches your ears, you part your lips wide enough for him to fit through but you don’t move. It’s a wordless invitation for him to come use your mouth however he pleases.
He gets the memo right away and doesn’t waste any time to slide right into your mouth, holding your head in place as he thrusts into your mouth, groaning when the head of his dick slams into your soft palate.
You blink your tears away but it’s useless as he continues to assault the back of your throat, tears uncontrollably spilling from your eyes and rolling down your hot cheeks, ruining your makeup in the process.
You tap his thigh twice and he understands, halting his thrusts and glancing down at you to check. Once you take his dick back into your mouth and move your own head down his shaft again after catching your breath, he throws his head back and lets you suck him off to the best of your abilities.
Your makeup has undoubtedly smudged all over your face but you don’t mind, not when Jungkook loves it. You gracefully move your mouth down his dick, committing the feeling of his hardened shaft effortlessly sliding over your tongue to memory.
He moans and groans a few more times and that tells you he’s nearing his orgasm. But just as you’re about to speed up, he stops you.
“I want to cum inside of you,” he tells you before sliding out of your sloppy mouth.
You try to catch your breath and nod as you wipe your chin and mouth with the back of your hand before rising to your feet.
“I don’t like that I’m completely naked and you’re fully clothed.” He reminds you that you are – in fact – fully clothed and he is – in fact – buttnaked.
“I don’t know, seems kind of fair to me.” You shrug your shoulders once you tug your shirt off and throw it somewhere in the room. You bring your fingers up to right under your eyes to try and clean up some of the makeup stains on your hot cheeks. “‘Cause aren’t you a pervert, anyway?”
He scoffs as he crosses his arms. “I’m the pervert?”
He takes a breath to continue his argument but it’s abruptly cut off when you unclasp your bra and toss it at him, watching as it gracefully drapes over his shoulder.
His eyes drop down to your chest as if he’s forgotten you even have eyes before his hands wrap around your waist and push you toward his bed with a quickness.
You let yourself fall back against the soft mattress but you can barely enjoy the feeling before his fingers tug your pants down your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he mindlessly tugs your jeans off your ankles, angrily tossing it aside.
A soft giggle leaves your lips as you watch him be passive aggressive with your pants but not for long when his eyes shift to yours.
“Something funny?” he quips, eyes dropping down to the only piece of fabric that’s hindering what he wants to do to you.
You glance down at your panties before back up at him. Your hand travels down your stomach to your pelvis, slowly sliding your panties to the side, allowing him to see what a mess he’s made between your legs.
His tongue peeks out at the corner of his lips, sliding along his bottom lip as he eyes your attention-seeking sex. He hooks his fingers around your panties and slides them down your legs, tugging them off your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor over his shoulder.
He hunches over and positions his mouth right above your pussy before spitting on it, watching your legs jerk as he rubs it into your already soaked sex with his fingers. He knows you like it and he’s right, it drives you up the fucking wall every time he does.
He straightens his back and positions himself at your sticky sex, rubbing the head of his dick up and down your wet slit.
He wastes no time as he looks into your eyes when he pushes in, watching your face and how your eyes widen, your mouth falls open, your body jerks.
“Jungkook.” His name leaves your mouth in a desperate moan as he bottoms out, his brows furrowed and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
He lets out a low grunt and after a while of adjusting to the feeling of being inside of you again, he starts thrusting into you.
Your eyes shift to where you’re connected, intently watching how his dick disappears in and out of you. A pathetic moan falls from your lips, a surprised yelp following directly after when he grabs a handful of your breast, massaging it in his palm as he fucks into you.
His hips speed up in pace, the sound of his skin slamming into yours has your eyes rolling back and your arms give out, making you fall back against the mattress, sprawled out in front of him again.
He lets go of your breast and pushes one of your legs back, hooking it around his arm to keep it in place and mercilessly starts pounding into you, face hovering right over yours. “You’re so beautiful.”
Your eyes flutter open at his words, the only thing you can think about now is the stretching in your walls and his beautiful face in front of yours.
“You belong to me, don’t you?” he muses, face closing in on your neck as he presses soft kisses to your sweaty skin. The soft whines and whimpers leaving your mouth makes him fuck you harder yet gentler, full of love yet full of hate, want but also need.
You gather your breath to answer his question, in the mood to tease him now that he’s finally yours again. “No.”
Teasing each other is your love language.
His hips slow down and his face appears in front of yours again with a frown. His jet black eyes staring you down makes you want to sink into his mattress and disappear off the face of the Earth. He arrogantly clicks his tongue as he says, “Is that so?”
“Mhm,” you hum, closing your eyes as you move your hands up to the back of his neck to play with his hair, twirling his locks around your fingers.
He mockingly nods at your teasing. “You know damn well no one else fucks you like I do.” His thrusts get harsher, eyes dropping to your breasts bouncing from the momentum of his pounding.
You whimper at the switch, the rough pounding makes the wetness squelch extra loud and you’ve made a disgusting mess against his sex with your slick.
“You know, Hoseok was pretty goo–”
“But who’s the one fucking you right now?”
His rebuttal has you dead silent aside from the occasional, pathetic moans and heavy breathing. You open your eyes and the first thing you’re met with are his own, black and frustrated.
“The love of my life.”
Your reply to him has his hips stuttering in their rhythm, the corners of his lips twitching as he tries to fight the smile threatening to creep onto his lips. In order to hide his smile, he starts leaning down and presses his lips against yours in a sweet kiss, a stark contrast to the rough pounding of his hips.
Make-up sex really is the best.
You decide it’s enough teasing and wrap your legs around his waist, caging him in between your thighs as you pull him even closer. “I love you so much,” you mumble against his lips, arms wrapped around his neck to fully keep him trapped in your embrace.
He nods at the words, his pelvis still repeatedly slamming into yours. His hips slow down but the power behind them never subsides, the rough pounding has all your nerve endings set alight and your thighs jerk violently when the head of his dick barely grazes your cervix with each thrust.
“I’m gonna cum,” he mumbles against your lips, allowing you to lick into his mouth. You clench around his dick, walls wrapping tightly around him. He groans into your mouth, it’s your way of milking him of every drop and he knows it.
“Harder,” you moan once he pulls away from your lips, his brows knitting together as he complies, roughly slamming his hips into yours.
His breath is getting heavier by the second and his dick twitches in between your walls, alerting you that he’s seconds away from his climax. “I love you so much,” he mumbles as he ejaculates, painting your insides with his cum.
He keeps thrusting and lets long groans and moans leave his lips as he fucks his load into you, your soft whimpers in his ear are the cherry on top that drives him insane.
He gives you a couple more thrusts before he fully comes to a halt, face buried in the crook of your neck.
The synced heavy breathing, his proximity, the reality of the situation, it all has tears pricking in your eyes.
He slowly lifts his head off your shoulder, eyes searching yours. “You haven’t cum yet, hm?”
You shake your head in response.
“Remember when you teased me while sucking my dick 20 minutes ago?” he asks as he unhooks your legs from his waist.
Your breath hitches in your throat as you listen to him, already knowing where this is headed.
“Get ready,” is all he says.
He pulls out and drags you all the way to the edge of his bed, forcefully shoving his fingers into your mouth while the other wastes no time traveling to your sex and beginning its torturous assault on your sensitive clit.
Your throat is ruined from the screams you’ve let out when he continues to edge and overstimulate you for the next 30 minutes, watching in satisfaction as you writhe and squirm under his touch.
⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
You wrap the towel around your frame as you leave his bathroom, eyes glued to him as he’s staring at the ceiling before his eyes shift to you. He turns on his side and props his head up on one hand, a smile on his lips as he watches you dig into his dresser for something to wear.
“When do you leave again?” you ask quietly as you pull out a pair of his sweats.
He stares at your back for a moment longer before answering, “Next Thursday.”
(Read: For context, it’s Friday right now.)
Your hands find one of his bigger shirts and you pull it out, placing it next to the sweats you chose on top of the dresser.
You continue, “Where are you going?”
He thinks about his answer for a few seconds. “Brazil,” he says. This conversation happens every time and yet he answers like it’s the first time you’re asking him these questions.
You slowly nod as you consider asking him what you want to ask him.
“How long will you be staying there?” you ask as you drop your towel and slide his sweats and shirt on, ditching your bra and underwear.
He looks up at you as he says, “I’m not sure, probably a week or two.”
Your feet slowly take you to him and you take your seat on his bed right next to him.
You nod your head in understanding again before you reach out to tuck his hair behind his ear, addicted to the way his soft hair feels against your skin.
“Will you let me come with you?”
Your question has him perking up like a cartoon character, lips twitching, eyes wide, ears expanding.
Ever since you met him, you had never flown out with him anywhere. You love change but you also love the comfort of your own home.
But love is about compromise, is it not?
He instantly shoots up in his bed and lunges at you, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame, face buried in your hair. He deeply inhales, his arms almost crushing your ribs, his pounding heart beating against your chest.
His breath has gotten shaky but you can tell that he’s fighting the urge to bawl in your presence. And eventually, he finally finds the voice that abandoned him in his time of need.
“I would love that.”
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series m.list: hellokittylover/coquette!oc x boxer!jk
a/n: this series has no plot, it’s just a collection of cute n’ smut n’ angst scenarios! >.< <each drabble can be a stand alone>
intro ༘⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ —headcanon
truth or dare
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ : rumor has it that jungkook is entertaining other girl(s)
ᰔ love ᰔ
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ :you wanted to try the “pink coquette core” on your boyfriend and your poor sleepy dog
˚ʚ♡ɞ igual que un ángel ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ :after spending the entire day shopping with your boyfriend, you’re craving mochi donuts and bubble milk tea before going to bed and jeongguk, even in his tired state, will do everything to make you happy.
can you kiss me more?
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅: jeongguk's lust and love for you becomes insatiable
Summary: Jungkook has a big fight coming up, and he's not allowed to have sex for a month prior.
Genre: Boxer!JungkookxReader, SMUT
Word Count: 1.3k
Warnings: Just filth, Jungkook is obscenely horny, desperate, and possessive, mentions of them being VERY sexually active before this, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don't), choking? (not really, his hands just there), creampie
“No climaxing for a month before any large-scale fight.”
A sentence Jungkook had hated the first time is was said to him, but respected nonetheless. He hated not even being able to jack-off for that long, but it was manageable before he met you.
Then you showed up right as his career began to take off. A lot more of his fights were high-profile; all televised, and a lot rode on him winning - and him winning rode very heavily on him obeying that one rule he despised so much.
The first high-profile fight he had while with you, that rule wasn’t exactly something he paid much mind to; chalking it all up to superstition. He knew he was good, and having sex wasn’t going to change that, right?
Wrong.
He bombed the fight and his manager was pissed, to say the least. “I swear to god, JK, your career will be over if you pull another move like that.”
So a few months later when he was told about the next big fight, his manager repeated those words to him, and by God, he listened.
Hated having to break the news to you though.
“So, we can’t have sex? Like at all?”
“No,” He shook his head before his expression changed slightly, thinking for a moment before he continued, “Well, I can do stuff to you, I just can’t really do anything that involves my dick, and probably nothing at all for two weeks before the fight,” You sat in almost complete amazement.
“Jungkook, sweetie, since we’ve started dating we haven’t gone more than twenty-four hours without fucking, shit, I’d be surprised if we made it twelve,” you laughed, only kind of joking as Jungkook smirked, thinking back to all the times you’d had sex three and four times a day for months on end.
“Yeah, I know, but that’s why I lost my last fight so bad. I really can’t this time,” He spoke almost solemnly, his hand coming over to rub your thigh soothingly; though it really just made you want to rip his clothes off.
“A month?” You asked softly, almost whining as your eyes remained glued to his hand.
“Just a month, It’ll be easy.”
Like hell it was.
But you did it, and man, did this fight go differently from the last one.
This time, the other guy was barely even able to land a punch on Jungkook. His punches barely landed, and his attempts to overpower him were struck down as Jungkook was easily able to knock him back down and off of him. By the end of the fight, everyone was screaming his name; everyone except the one person he wanted to be screaming it the most.
He immediately closed the door to his dressing room, you already sitting on the couch wearing the skimpiest dress you owned, smiling from ear to ear as you waited to congratulate him. He’d been in a near constant state of arousal for the past several weeks, and you, while trying your best not to add to his struggle of not being able to bend you over every surface in his house, were no help.
Sure, you covered up more, and went out more than you stayed in to avoid temptations, but you were still you. You still made dirty jokes that made his mind wander, you still ran your hand across his leg absentmindedly, your perfume still smelled intoxicating and your lips still tasted like desire.
So, when he saw you in the room he knew you’d be waiting for him in, showing more skin than he had seem in a month, he cut off your words when you went to congratulate him, his mouth engulfing yours as his tongue past your lips and into the furthest corners of your mouth. You moaned into him softly, while his actions were not fully unexpected, he still threw you off balance before his hands gripped your hips and pulled you into him.
Seconds later his his hands were up your dress, gripping your ass roughly as he pulled you further into him, his cock already hard as it pressed against your stomach. He desperately pulled your dress up and over your head, throwing it roughly to the side as your hand went down his shorts, gripping his hard length gently as you moved up and down.
He groaned deeply, throwing his head back in pleasure as your other hand ran down his chest and abs. He moved his head back up, going back and forth between watching you stroke him under his shorts and watching your tits move as you did.
A wave of overwhelming need came over him, pulling your hand out of his pants before he grabbed you by the hips and spun you around and pushed you down onto the couch, your hands bracing you on the back of the couch.
“You have no fucking idea,” He started, hastily pulling his shorts and underwear down before he stepped toward you, running his dick along the crack of your ass as he lets out a low groan. “How hard it was for me to not fuck you,” He used his middle finger to pull your thong to the side as you pushed your ass back further, desperate for him to touch you.
He groaned as he thrust into you roughly, having to hold himself back from pounding into you relentlessly. “Fuck,” A swift slap landed on your ass as you moaned out, his thrusts slow and deliberate. “I had to rush through that fight,” His words were low as you could tell he was trying to avoid cumming too soon. “Because i knew you were back here,” thrust “wearing that,” thrust “waiting for me to come back here and fuck you,”
He snapped into you roughly, hands on your hips as he thrust into you faster than he ever had before. Your moans were obnoxiously loud and constant, something people outside this room could definitely hear; but neither of you cared. He reached on hand around your neck and pulled you back against him, your head resting on his shoulder as he continued thrusting in and out of you.
“You’ve been my good little slut, hmm?” he hummed into your ear, his free hand wrapping around you to play with your tits. “Waiting so patiently for me, all for me,” you nodded against him as he kissed starting sucking harshly on your shoulder as his pace became unsteady. “Gotta cum, baby,” he whispered into your shoulder was he moved the hand from your neck down to your clit, rubbing it harshly as you reached back to pull his hair, feeling yourself about to come undone.
He pushed you back down as you came, fingers digging into your hips as he drilled into you ruthlessly before he spilled into you, his sticky cum filling you up quickly and began spurting out of you, dripping onto the couch.
He sighed heavily as he pulled out of you, falling back into the couch next to you, his body spent. He adjusted to sit next to him, your legs draped over his as he pulled you into his heaving chest. “Fuck, that was good,” he spoke after catching his breath, his voice low as his eyes remained shut.
You hummed in response, kissing his chest softly before you stood, grabbing your dress from off the ground and slipping it back on, Jungkook’s eyes low as he watched you. “Ready for round two when we get back to your place?” You smiled, noticing the way his eyes were watching you.
He smirked lightly as his eyes moved back up to meet yours. He swiftly stood and pulled you into him, caressing your cheek with his thumb as his eyes stayed glued on your lips. “When we get back to my place?” His smirk widening as he looked into your eyes. “Round two’s happening right here and now, baby,”
Notes: HELLO! Oh my god, I know I said this was gonna be posted weeks ago, but I had so many things to fix and then so much to add in. But now it's finally here! And I'm literally sO excited to share it with you guys! I hope you guys like it! Requested by anon, hope you like it dove! Humongous shout out to @jinpanman for helping me out with this, and reading my terrible first draft! I literally owe her my kidney right now lmaooo. Love ya, doll! Have fun reading you guys, and let me know what you think!!
「 ──────── 」
Summary: All Jin knew was the ropes of a boxing ring, the pain of broken limbs. He grew up in this life, making a name for himself, the path that his father had carved out for him. He knew nothing of a gentle touch and soft whispers and a sweet girl who had no business around the likes of him.
Genre: Fluff (?), Angst, Smut. Boxer!Au
Word count: 17.7k (remember when I said Hearing Voices was the longest thing I'll ever write?? Lmaooo)
Warnings: Description of violence, mentions of blood. Smoking, Smut, dry humping, unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids!), Oral m receiving. Swearing.
〘◊❒◊❒◊❒◊❒〙
"It's way too loud in here." Yoongi groans as he sits down in the usual booth, tossing his leather jacket on the table with a frown. Seokjin goes to comment that he always says that. Anywhere that's not the quiet, peaceful solitude of his apartment was too loud for him, and that he should suck it up, because it isn't very often they get to hangout in a place that's not the Boxing Gym. Namjoon slides in behind him with a smile, eyes turning into crescent moons and dimples coming out of hiding. Seokjin barely pays them mind as he sits opposite them, his eyes scanning the length of the bar to find a distracted Hoseok not ordering drinks like he said he was going to do. He sighs quietly, but allows him his moment with the pretty blonde stranger he was chatting up. Seokjin notices the way he already has her wrapped around his finger, with the way she covers her smile with a hand, the other resting against his chest as he flirted with everything he had.
He catches sight of the bartender Jimin, a chipper younger man, sending a smile that reaches his eyes before his lips move. His blonde hair looks pink in the low red lighting of the bar's neon bulbs, and he sends him a wave, one that Seokjin returns tiredly with an equally tired smile. Yoongi and Namjoon are talking about something in quiet voices, the elder of the two stopping to look around when he notices Hoseok's prolonged absence. He spots him in the same position that Seokjin had and rolls his eyes, never subtle in his actions or hiding how he feels. What he gives is what you get with Min Yoongi.
"Alright, we've lost him." He says, shaking his head, and Seokjin offers to retrieve the drinks, and Hoseok.
He approaches the bar first, catching Hoseok's double take and his sheepish smile that Seokjin waves off with a shake of his head. In all honesty, Seokjin wouldn't have minded if the man ditched their small group for the company of the girl he was talking to. It's been a rough couple of months for Hosesok, with him ending things badly with his girlfriend of two years for infidelity on her part - he was glad that Hoseok was finally feeling up to trying something again - even if it was only one night of indulgence. Hoseok sends him a grateful smile, turning back to his new companion to continue their conversation.
"Jin! The usual?" Jimin spots him, coming over and leaning close, dark eyebrows raised with a question he technically didn't have to ask. He's been a frequent at this hole-in-the-wall bar long enough for Jimin to memorize his order and have it ready as soon as he walked in. He's always asked, though, just to be sure of his preference for the night and for the sake of his friends that he came with. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, crucifix earrings dangling as he tilts his head, waiting for an answer.
"Make it three this time, Jimin." He says, leaning close to the bar
too, so Jimin could hear him over the music. He feels the buzz of his phone in his jeans pocket, and spots the visage of Hoseok leaving with the girl and throwing a thumbs up his way just out of the corner of his eye. Seokjin taps his fingers against the wooden top of the bar counter, eyeing the fading bruises on his knuckles with disdain and a bitter taste in his mouth. A small cut that splits through the arch of his brow throbs lightly with his thoughts, barely healed, still fresh and irritated. Jimin returns with three tumblers of whiskey in hand not long after. "We'll be here for a while."
"I'll put it on your tab, then. Let me know if you need anything else!" Jimin waves him off with a bright smile, shuffling away to deal with a man waving him over. It was a busy night, and Seokjin wonders how Jimin manages working by himself bustling around like a bee.
Seokjin had barely turned around when someone bumps into him, his fast reflexes kick in, and he raises the drinks to avoid spilling on himself. He couldn't help the glare he sends the man's way. He looks to be about Jimin's age and too drunk to stand straight, if the girl next to him practically holding up his weight was anything to go by.
"Taehyung, for heaven's sake!" You peek around him, looking less than pleased - clearly done with his antics for the night and look up at Seokjin with wide eyes, "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you. Did you spill your drinks? I can buy them back -"
"It's fine, don't worry about it," Seokjin offers the second tired smile for the night. He would have called you cute - with your floral printed blouse and blue jeans cuffed at the ankles - if he wasn't so irritated and this Taehyung fellow was looking like he was going to be sick. And Seokjin would be damned if that boy throws up on him. You begin to protest, shifting Taehyung's weight against you, the boy letting out a string of incomprehensible words that are slurred and jumbled, but Seokjin shrugs, tilting his head, "Really, no harm done."
He leaves you, just as you ask Jimin for a bottle of water to sober up your friend, and he carefully makes his way back to his booth. Yoongi eyes him curiously when he sits down, dark eyes sharp and calculating, and Namjoon asks after Hoseok.
Before Seokjin could reply to Namjoon, Yoongi cuts in. "What was that about?" He asks, pulling his tumbler to him, the ice cubes clinking together softly. He cocks a brow, waving a hand at a nearby girl who was now giving her friend an earful.
"Nothing, the guy just bumped into me, drunk off his ass."
"Kids these days," Namjoon mumbles and Yoongi snorts into his drink, turning his head to face him.
"Compared to me and Jin, you are a kid."
"I'm twenty-five!"
"Still a kid," Yoongi snarks, and quietly they chat about things that don't involve work and Seokjin was glad for the distraction. Remembering Namjoon’s previous question, he tells them that Hoseok left with someone and Yoongi nods, "At least one of us is getting some."
His eyes wander as their voices fade and muddle together and he finds you at the bar rolling your eyes as you rub circles into your friend's back, looking like a mother scolding her child.
"--right, Jin?" Seokjin turns his head so quickly it could've given him whiplash. He isn't sure if he had been caught staring, but Yoongi's barely hidden smirk left little to be desired and Seokjin feels heat climbing up his neck. Namjoon and Yoongi had clearly been in a heated discussion, half of it he missed, and Seokjin nods dumbly without knowing what he just agreed to. Namjoon slumps in his seat with a pout, looking much like a kid in that moment and Yoongi's smirk widens into a smile of gums and teeth, the apples of his cheeks softening the sharp edges of his eyes as they crease with a breathy laugh. He was clearly the victor of their debate and Seokjin can't help the chuckle that leaves him.
"Oh, don't look now. That girl's coming over here," Seokjin perks up at Yoongi's words. He turns his head out of curiosity just in time to see you place three unopened beers on
their table. The dark bottles are already sweating in the warm air of the packed bar, running down the sides to soak into the wood of the table.
"Hi, sorry my idiot friend bumped into you," You smile sweetly and Seokjin wonders briefly what a girl like you was doing in a bar like this. You look severely out of place with your shy smile and a rosy tint to your cheeks as you wipe your hands on the material of your jeans. You smell like peaches and cream and nice, above the heady scent of smoke and alcohol that surrounded the place.
Seokjin can't actually ignore the fact that you called Taehyung your friend, the knowledge has him internally smiling. Something kicks against his leg causing him to wince and reach down to rub the sore spot. He catches Yoongi staring at him. Get it together, he seems to be saying. Seokjin realises that he was staring, kind of awestruck and stupid, and heat races to his ears and neck for the second time that night.
Seokjin clears his throat, "Thanks, but I told you it was fine."
"I didn't feel okay with it. Don't worry, Tae paid for them," Your soft laugh has Seokjin's stomach turning over and he frowns, quickly covering it with a smile so you won't misinterpret. He’s hyper aware of Yoongi and Namjoon staring between the both of you, though Namjoon is focused more on your pretty smile and Seokjin thanks you again.
He watches you leave, walking back to your spot next to Taehyung who was slumped against the bar and he turns a sharp gaze to Yoongi. "What was that for?"
"You were totally blowing it." Yoongi states, draining his glass and reaching for a beer. "Pretty girl says a few words and you're gaping like a fish."
Seokjin scowls, eyes finding you again, though unwillingly, like he was just drawn to your form and deflates a bit in his seat as a man dressed in black approaches you. He wraps an arm around your waist and you smile the same smile you'd given him earlier. With a scowl, he looks away and focuses on his drink.
「 ──────── 」
"I had the wildest night bro. The things Venessa did with her tongue." Seokjin was really trying to focus. He pauses to fix Hoseok with a blank stare as he tries once again to regale him and Yoongi with last nights activities. He'd come in this morning wearing the same clothes from last night with a pep in step and the brightest smile they've seen in months, announcingthat he'd shower there. Now out of his jeans and tee-shirt combo, he'd stolen a pair of grey sweats from Yoongi and the spare tee-shirt that Seokjin kept in his locker that hung off a little on his lean frame.
"We really don't want to know Hobi," Yoongi drawls, pulling a face. He was sitting on one of the chairs in the audience side, feet up on the thick rubber barricade, sipping on an iced americano. "Focus on what you're doing. We don't wanna hear about your sexcapades." Yoongi hides his blonde hair under a black cap, and Seokjin doesn't miss the way he duckes his head to hide his smile. He knows the man would rather combust than let the world know he was happy for his friend finally ending his pity party; residential tsundere, Yoongi was.
Hoseok huffs, rolling his eyes as he straightens his stance. Seokjin takes a moment to roll the sleeves of his thin sports hoodie back up his arms, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He waits for Hoseok to put his hands back up and when he does, Seokjin starts punching at the focus pads with his closed fist.
"You guys are so lame," Hoseok complains.
The doors on the other side of the ring opens and in strolls Namjoon, looking much better than he did last night, considering that he got himself completely plastered and hanging off Yoongi. He kept the door open with a foot, talking to someone behind him. Seokjin spots a familiar black hoodie as the person comes through the doorway, and you trailing behind them looking a little bored and confused. Seokjin's fist misses Hoseok's palm completely, almost hitting him right in the face.
"Dude!" Hoseok was just able to dodge, backing up a couple steps, watching him as though
he'd just seen his life flash before his eyes. And he may have well had, Seokjin wouldn't want to get hit by himself either. Yoongi's laugh reaches his ears, but Seokjin was well distracted, stripping off his red boxing gloves to stretch his sweating fingers. Hoseok was still eyeing him wearily as he takes the focus pads off and reaches for his water bottle at the ring post.
Seokjin watches the boy you trail behind with some sort of feeling in his chest, the same sort of disdain he felt the night before. He’s tall, almost reaching Namjoon's height, wavy hair that curled at the ends and hung over his doe eyes. He was clearly athletic, the way his clothes clung to the defined muscles of his arms and legs told him as much. He seems young enough for the curiosity of a child to still be in his eyes as they dart around at everything to take it all in.
Seokjin frowns slightly. Namjoon didn't say anything about bringing in someone new. He would usually discuss such things with him; his father owned this place after all. In that moment, between one thought and the next, Seokjin suddenly remembers something his mother would say: Speak of the devil, and he will appear.
The doors Namjoon came through swings open once more, and Seokjin feels the muscle of his neck and shoulders bunch tightly at the sight of his father walking in. It was rare to see Kim Chi-won descend from his lofty office to mingle with the commoners, all slicked back salt-and-pepper hair, shining leather shoes and grey suit fresh from the dry cleaners. He greets Namjoon first with a smile and a slap on the back, nodding at everyone else like his own son wasn't standing metres away.
"You must be Jeon. A pleasure to meet you my boy," Seokjin rolls his eyes at his father's over-friendly tone as he shakes the boy's hand. No one was unaffected by the tension in the room, and Jeon gives a tight smile and a nod. "We're always happy to receive new talents around here."
This boy must be special for the big man himself to come and greet him, and Seokjin feels mild jealousy over the attention this newcomer is getting. When was the last time his father had ever spoken two words to him that wasn't about a match or telling him he needed to train harder to stay on top? Ever since he turned sixteen, he'd stopped treating him like his son, and more like the other men who'd come in looking for their shot at fame through blood and violence.
Seokjin had grown up watching his father boxing, mostly through reruns on the TV when his mother had gone to sleep. He remembers sitting too close to the small TV in the even smaller living room, stuffing his face with popped corn and wincing at every blow his father would receive. He was the best of the best in his time, quick on his feet and his fist cracking like thunder on a stormy day. He remembers cheering loudly when his father won the heavyweight championship and waking his mother by jumping on her bed screaming, "Daddy did it! He did it!"
He thought that he had to follow in his father's footsteps, and he was so excited when his father brought him to see his first match. That's where he met Namjoon, the son of his father's closest friend. Though they both sat in an office to watch the live screening instead of being a part of the screaming crowd down below,, it wasn't any less exciting to Seokjin.
He remembers when his father taught him how to throw his first punch, and how proud he was that he earned his father’s approval. It’s all he ever wanted. He realised, however, when won his first championship match - the youngest to ever do so at eighteen - that underneath all the adrenaline and the excitement, it wasn't.
He realised later, when his father had gotten an injury that kept him out of the ring, and his connection with the Gym's manager at that time landed him in the piles of money he now swaddled in. His father was only living off of the fame and the money that he brought to the table. Seokjin only ever wanted to make his father proud, to be the best like he was. It didn't matter that he'd run himself down training
harder than anyone else, moving like lightning in the ring. He wanted to see the smile his father gave him that time he threw his first punch and maybe a “well done, son, you did good”.
When Seokjin lost his first match, he didn't get the comfort that he was looking for from his father. He didn't get the “you can't win them all” speech when he sat in his office under the white fluorescent bulbs. He instead got a cold, hard look from the man he looked up to, and no more than, "You need to train harder if you want to stay on top."
So Seokjin trained harder still, day in and day out until it made him sick. He remembers how mad Namjoon was when he found him passed out in the training room, the earful he got when he woke up in the hospital and Namjoon looking like he was about to blow steam from his ears. Yoongi wasn't pleased, calmer than Namjoon in his reprimand, but no less upset.
It would have looked funny to some, to see two men younger than him telling him off as though he was the youngest between them. But they cared so much, and monitored his training to make sure he didn't push himself too hard.
Seokjin catches Hoseok's eye. It was no secret that Seokjin and his father didn't see eye-to-eye on the best days. Even Hoseok knew this and he's only been at the Boxing Gym for a year. Seokjin sighs, ducking under the rope and out of the ring, detesting the fact that he had to pass right by his father to get out.
"Training hard?" Seokjin would have liked a better greeting than that, but he's so used to it now that the words went through his ears. He spots Jeon watching him with sparkling eyes, but ignores the boy as he faces his father.
"Yes, sir."
His father smiles, a tight uncomfortable expression that looks too rehearsed to be natural. The same smile he'd give to flashing cameras on the busiest of Friday nights. "Good lad. I expect you to be ready for that match next week."
Seokjin clenches his jaw, forcing a smile, and he spots Namjoon barely shaking his head at him. "Of course, sir." He leaves it at that, turning to walk quickly to the doors. He just wants out.
「 ──────── 」
"Wasn't he cool!?" You're too tired for this.
"Uh, which one? The stiff in the suit?"
Jeongguk promptly smacks your arm, rolling his eyes, "No...I mean yeah he was kind of cool. But I'm talking about his son! Did you know that he was the youngest boxer ever to win the heavyweight championship?"
"Yes, Guk. You've told me a million times," You roll your eyes at him now, fishing your keys from the pocket of your jeans. You've been on the receiving end of his fanboy rambles for years, you've learnt to let it go through one ear and out the next. You think the training was necessary, now that Jeongguk had finally wormed his way into the Boxing Gym and you just know that now that he'd be seeing his idol every day, it was only going to get worse.
"I'm so jealous that you actually shared words with him last night! And you're treating it like it's no big deal!" He bounces on his heels, fidgeting restlessly as he waits for you to open the door.
"That's because it isn't you dork! He's just a person."
Before you can slot the key into the lock, the door to your apartment swings open and a grinning Taehyung immediately bombards Jeongguk with questions. "How'd it go? Did you get in? Did you see Seokjin??"
Over their loud excited chatter and the both of them squealing like teenage girls, you hear the jingle of keys down the hall, and looking around Jeongguk's large frame you see your neighbor, Jimin, unlocking his door. He offers a tired wave and his best smile. He hadn't even changed out of his uniform, which was all sorts of rumpled. You'd left him working at the bar last night when Jeongguk had come to get you and Taehyung, and you hope he doesn't have classes today.
"Can you two get inside?" You push Taehyung back by his shoulders, Jeongguk trails behind you, still talking a mile a minute. You really hadn't planned on doing anything today other than relaxing, as you didn't have any classes. You were
woken by the very loud knocking on your bedroom door, and a very excited Jeongguk behind your door begging you to come with him to the Boxing Gym. Taehyung was originally supposed to go with him. They’d agreed to that when Jeongguk told you he'd be training there last week, but Taehyung had drank too much last night - even after you'd reminded him of his lightweight self - and was too hungover to move.
"Did you eat the soup I made you Tae?" You ask, wandering into the kitchen to get a bottle of water. Still hearing their mind-numbing conversation about boxing techniques and Jeongguk's schedule for the coming week. Honestly, you didn't really like the thought of him getting into boxing. As much as you would support his dream all the way, you hate the fact that he'd spend most of his days in a ring getting bloodied up. Not even knowing they always have a medic on site prevents you from worrying.
"Yes mom," You roll your eyes at Taehyung's reply, muttering under your breath. You walk into the living room, catching just the end of Taehyung and Jeongguk's conversation.
"Y/n thinks she's all cool, but I saw her making heart eyes at Seokjin." Jeongguk is sprawled out on the couch, and smirks at you when you enter the room, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You gawk at him for a moment, and you swear your soul leaves you as Taehyung raises his dark eyebrows at you.
"She almost tripped when she saw him this morning," Jeongguk adds.
"I did not you brat!" You contemplate hurling the bottle of water at Jeongguk's head, but knowing that he would catch it before it does any damage takes all the satisfaction out of it. "I didn't see the ledge in the doorway that's all!" You felt heat flush your cheeks despite yourself, and huff as you fold your arms. "At least I wasn't the one looking at him all starry-eyed."
"I have my reasons! Don't turn this on me!" You feel good at the pink flush that rises to his cheeks and Taehyung's deep laugh. Jeongguk may be a nuisance, but he isn't a liar. You had indeed been watching Seokjin this morning, but can anyone blame you? When you saw him last night, you were honestly too worried about Taehyung to be distracted by him and his broad shoulders and dark hair. You'd gotten a good eyeful this morning, and you were thankful that he'd barely paid you mind, giving you the chance to look at him properly.
"I'm going to bed," You hastily mutter, turning on your heel to petter down the hall to your room.
"Okay, but we're celebrating later!"
「 ──────── 」
It’s been a good couple of days, and Seokjin is glad to say he hasn't seen his father since that new kid came in. A kid he still knows nothing about despite Seokjin's constant asking. Namjoon's lips are sealed tighter than an envelope. He refuses to tell him anything about him, saying that he should talk to the boy himself instead of badgering him about it. That little shit. He shuts the door to the Gym, the jingling of his keys a loud sound in the near empty street at this late hour, grumbling to himself as he locks up.
Kids these days, no respect for their eld-
"You okay?" A hand lands on Seokjin's shoulder, and he drops his key chain, screaming loud enough that anyone else would think he was being murdered. He spins on his heel to find Yoongi, with a smirk that said he finally caught him, clearly amused by his reaction.
Seokjin had been avoiding Yoongi for days, but he was unable to after they locked up the Gym for the night. He thought he'd gone home already - he was always one of the first people to leave once the threat of anyone getting hurt was no longer present. He couldn't shake the man even as he walks familiar dark streets towards the bar he likes, and Yoongi waits until they sit down and have drinks in their hands before he asks again.
Seokjin grunts, watching the amber liquid in his glass when he swirls it, "M'fine."
Yoongi raises a brow, clearly convinced. "Sure you are." The man sighs, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back, "C'mon, Jin. Talk to me."
"I just wished things weren't the way they were." Seokjin murmurs. "Things aren't easy, Yoongi. Nothing I do matters to him, no matter how much I try to prove myself it's always the same. I just..." The man sighs, feeling a weight on his chest that just grows heavier the longer he tries to ignore it. It's been festering for years, a sort of hollow pain that grew with him since he was sixteen that now seems to wrap around his throat and squeeze. Seokjin briefly wonders just how long he can stay in the bar and drink as much as he could before he'd be thrown out. He knows he can’t though, not under Yoongi's ever watchful gaze, who would stop him the second he's deemed he's gone far enough.
Seokjin feels like he's drowning, weighed down by the constant expectations and no life raft to keep him above the water. He would gladly sink, if given the chance, but he knows well that he wouldn't allow himself that chance, because despite everything, Seokjin made it to where he is with all his hard work. But how was that enough? He was tired of it, and he says as much to Yoongi, who only sits and listens, never once cutting him off.
He’s tired of having to push through every day, fighting even when he isn't in the ring. He’s tired of his father's constant, blatant disregard of his efforts to do right by his name. Tired of being pushed aside after a match and the money comes in, treated less than a son by the man that raised him. The only thing he cares about was how well he did in the ring and the next match. Seokjin isn't even sure he'd stick around that long for his upcoming match on Friday night, some title match he can't care less about now.
"I want out." Seokjin says after a while, after nursing his drink for a quiet moment, "I can't do this shit anymore." He’s sure his father wouldn't care less. He would do just as fine with any of the other guys. He was tired of the blood and nursing broken bones and bruised knuckles, of having to be in the hospital if things were a little too rough for his body to handle. If he keeps this up he'll probably die before he gets the chance to follow through and book it.
Yoongi nods in understanding, his eyes dark but not judging as he watches his friend spiral downwards. His glass has long been emptied during Seokjin's rambles, and when he glances at the other man's downcast expression he decides he'll need another soon.
"You really should," Yoongi drawls, and though his face is set into a practiced state of boredom, the tiny furrow of his brows and the tapping of his finger against the hardwood countertop gives away his concern. "Namjoon would have a fit though."
"Namjoon can kiss my ass," Seokjin leans back against the soft cushion of the booth, a harsh exhale of air leaving his nose. "My health is more important than some stupid title that I'd lose anyway."
"Don't downplay yourself Jin, you're the best out there. Though, I agree with you. You barely made it out of that match last week." Yoongi motions at his bandaged hand and the cut that split through his perfect brow. He leans forward, nudging his empty whiskey
glass aside with a finger. The dim lighting of the bar casts shadows across his face, sharpening his soft features, and the slight pout on his bottom lip looks a little less thoughtful. "Look, I won't tell Namjoon. You deserve the right to get out, but you should bring it up with him yourself."
Seokjin flexes his fingers under the tight wraps of the white bandage. "What about that new kid?" He feels the need to change the topic, swerving it away from focusing on him too much.
"He's good, talks about you a lot too. I saw him today, he was talking to Namjoon. I think his name's Jeongguk?" Seokjin spies the small quirk of Yoongi's mouth, and the glint in his eyes that promises something, and he prepares himself for whatever it was. "He's quite the fan, you should've stuck around to meet him today. The girl was pretty cute too, looking at you all doe eyed when you left."
By the narrowing of his eyes, Seokjin knows that Yoongi’s teasing, and trying to get a reaction from him. He can tell that Yoongi was trying his best here, and he appreciates the man's efforts to leave the conversation on the bulletin board.
He's well aware of Jeongguk's starstruck expression every time they'd cross paths, the boy was quick to smile and wave at him, always excited to see him even though Seokjin hadn't shared more than a friendly wave with him. He's even once caught the end of a conversation between him and Hoseok. It was more one sided than anything, with Jeongguk asking a million and one questions but barely giving Hobi a chance to get his answers in. You were there, as you always were, Jeongguk was never seen without you.
Mind well and properly distracted now, as his thoughts were now filled with you. You'd come with Jeongguk every time the boy graced the Boxing Gym with his presence, always trailing behind, looking a little lost, if not bored with the whole ordeal. Seokjin had tried to stay clear of you, despite his initial impression of you when he'd met you at this very bar a couple of nights before. He was alright looking at you from afar, but he tended to reign in his gaze once Jeongguk was in the same place as you.
He wasn't blind to the jokes you two would share or the lingering touches and they way you'd seen to stick close to him as well as you're able. Or the day before when the rain beating against the concrete outside had made the gym a little more cold than was appreciated, and you'd almost drowned in Jeongguk's black hoodie when he swaddled you in it. Seokjin would have probably spoken to you by now, but the fear of tying up his tongue in a grab for words would usually make him keep to himself. That and the fact that Jeongguk was always near. The nature of your relationship with the boy shouldn't bother him as much as it does, honestly, it isn't his business and he has no right to feel that sting of jealousy when he sees you together. You two honestly seem too close to be anything but simply friends.
"Isn't she with Jeongguk?" Seokjin drains his glass, thankful for the smooth glide, the burn of the alcohol barely there. He tilts his head as Yoongi watches him strangely for a quiet moment before he scoffs.
"What?" Seokjin asks, confused.
"Nothing, nothing." Yoongi waves him off, but the look in his eyes tells Seokjin it was more than just nothing, though he can't grasp onto the meaning behind Yoongi's gaze. "You should talk to her though. She's really nice and way quieter than Jeon. Kid asks a thousand questions at a time." Yoongi eyes his empty glass, poking at it restlessly with a frown. "Yesterday, he asked me if it's possible to be dismembered belly flopping into a body of water from a really high cliff. I told him that I could show him and he didn't talk to me for the rest of the day, which was rude."
Seokjin laughs lightly, keeping to himself that Yoongi won't be saying that given time. He remembers how Yoongi thought Hoseok was too talkative - too easily excited - when they first met, because how could anyone be that damn cheerful? Yoongi complained about it often, but Hoseok grew on him and the
two of them are now as thick as thieves.
Yoongi bids Seokjin goodnight after another hour of talking and winding down, and a promise to see each other in two days - with tomorrow and the day after being his days off - before they went their separate ways down the street. Seokjin doesn't live too far from the Boxing Gym. It’s a good twenty minutes away that makes for a nice jog early in the morning. He decided to stay close to his place of work, and he'd bought a moderately sized house a couple of years ago. Quite a few people wondered why he didn't just live in a bigger place, something fancier. He did have the means to do so, but Seokjin had always clung to his humble beginnings and kept his head down. He wouldn't want to live in a place that seemed too big to be comfortable, and screamed 'hey, I've got lots of money come rob me!'.
He likes his little place just fine. He had it refurbished when he bought it, replaced the roof and had the kitchen, bedroom and bathroom completely redone to suit his needs. Hadn't done much with it since except a paint job every now and then. He also likes it because just across the street is a 24hr convenience store that opened last year, which he now stands outside of, tapping his chin and wondering if instant ramen would be bad for his diet.
He shrugs, not really caring as much as he used to before as he walks through the automatic doors. He immediately feels like turning around and bolting across the street though, spotting a familiar head of dark hair and athletic build leaning against the front counter. He’s accompanied by that Taehyung guy from the bar, who’s mid conversation with whoever is managing the store for the night shift. Thankfully, Seokjin manages to make it behind one of the tall shelves without being seen, looking around for the instant ramen while taking peeks over the top of the shelves to see if Jeongguk and his friend have left yet.
"You honestly should've let me take this shift," Taehyung says, the depth of his voice honestly surprises Seokjin, this being the first time he's heard him when he's not stumbling drunk.
"Tae, I told you it's fine." Seokjin peaks over the shelf at the sound of your voice, seeing you sitting behind the counter rolling your eyes. "You have classes in the morning. I'll be home before you and Guk leave okay? Now you two should get home, it's getting late."
Seokjin hears a sigh, but he isn't sure which one of you it came from, before they wish you goodnight and Taehyung shouts that you should call him if you need anything from outside. Seokjin finally finds his ramen, cursing the size of this place while picking up some other snacks to munch on. He approaches the front desk, smiling apologetically at the way you flinch when you spot him. Clearly you hadn't seen him come in.
"Oh! Hi there," You greet politely, smiling in the sweet way you had that night in the bar. For a moment, Seokjin finds himself floored by the beauty of you, in the bright florescent lights of the convenience store, oversized white hoodie sleeves rolled up your slender arms. He expected you to at least look a bit starstruck like Jeongguk would look at him, like how everyone else would look at him once they realised who he was. Your gaze is casual, like a friend he's known forever, and he musters a small, awkward wave.
"Hi," He gently places his things on the counter, sliding them into your reach and your fingers brush his when you take them. He doesn't miss the flush to your cheeks then, or the way you bite your bottom lip to hide your smile. "You're working alone?" There's usually two people working during the night, as far as Seokjin could remember.
He doesn't remember seeing you here, ever. There was usually a young boy working part time here that he's made friends with. The last time he saw Jeongin, he was stressing over his finals. You must be new working here, Seokjin surmises as he watches you struggle with the scanner.
"Yeah, there's usually someone else here but Jeongin had to leave early..." You finally get the scanner to work, the machine
letting out a loud beep in the quietness of the store. Seokjin's eyes dart around at the street outside and can't help but worry.
"I can keep you company?" You promptly drop the pack of instant ramen you were holding, hands frantically reaching for it to cover up your slip. Your eyes meet his, surprised, a breathy chuckle leaving you.
"N-no, that's alright... I'm fine here on my own," Your cheeks flush again, and Seokjin finds himself smiling at the sight; you're cute. "But thank you though, Seokjin."
He tries to be less surprised at the revelation of you knowing his name, honestly he shouldn't be at all, being who he is. But he can't help the slight parting of his lips as his name rolls off your tongue. He likes the way it sounds coming from you and wonders if it would be weird if he asked you to say it again before he stops himself. Yes, that would be weird, Jin.
"Are you sure? The streets are pretty empty this late...and you're here alone."
"I'm sure," You smile, putting his stuff into a bag for him. "I'll call Tae or Jeongguk if anything."
Right... Jeongguk. And there was that sting of jealousy again at the mention of the boy's name that Seokjin should not be allowed to feel. He nods, relenting as he pays with his card, but can't help himself from asking. "I thought he would've stayed. Not a very good boyfriend is he?"
You make a face, handing him the bag, "Who? Jeongguk? Ew. He's like my pesky little brother."
Seokjin tries not to show how giddy he feels, hiding his smile by ducking his head and taking interest in the white tiles floor. You shake your head, grumbling to yourself about something, "Well if you're sure," He says, teetering nervously on his feet. "But if you're not, you could always just text me and I'll come over," He plucks a pen from the little cup by your hand, writing his number on the receipt you gave him before sliding it back to you.
"That was smooth," You comment, smirking at him.
And that's how it began.
The weeks go by quickly, and Seokjin tries his best to keep up with you on a daily basis. Whether it’s a simple text to ask about your day, or dropping by on your shift in the convenience store unannounced. Though he stopped doing that in particular when he went in one morning and was met with Taehyung behind the counter. He'd regarded Seokjin with narrowed eyes and a knowing smirk, asking if he was looking for you.
Of course, Jeongguk had caught on as well and cornered him in the Boxing Gym's training room, offering to spot him even though Seokjin knew the boy was up to something. He'd spoken to him a couple of times by then, after Jeongguk had calmed himself enough to get a sentence out and stopped looking at Seokjin like he'd done something life changing. Seokjin had more or less taken Jeongguk under his wing, overseeing his training sessions alongside Hobi, preparing him for his debut match coming in a couple of weeks.
The boy had talent, that much Seokjin could see, and they'd built their relationship around his passion for boxing. He no longer feels the pang of jealousy when he sees you both together when you come by the Boxing Gym, after learning that you, Jeongguk and Taehyung are roommates and see each other as nothing more than very close friends.
"So you and Y/n, huh?" Jeongguk asks, a serious expression locking his jaw, making him look agitated. His eyes are on the focus pads on Seokjin's palms, and they flicker to Seokjin's briefly. "Not that I mind or anything..."
Seokjin raises a brow, "I'm sensing a but in there."
"It's nothing to worry about," Jeongguk takes a breath, dropping his hands to swing at his sides lamely. He brings one up to brush away the hair that fell into his eyes, "She's like a sister to me, and I just don't want her to get hurt. I've seen her hurt over a guy before and I don't want her going through that again. I'll kick your ass if I ever catch her upset over you." The look in his dark eyes makes Seokjin believe he was very serious about what he was saying, and he feels the need to ease his worries.
"Guk," Seokjin sighs, he
pulls the focus pads off, tossing them to the ground to stretch his fingers, "Look man, I can't promise you that she won't get hurt. Sometimes things don't work out the way people want them to. Right now, we're just friends, we're... we're just waiting to see where things go, alright? The only thing I can promise is that I can try my best not to, even if what's between us doesn't go anywhere."
Jeongguk watches him for a long moment, the silence stretching between them, looking as though he was searching for a lie in his words. His mouth in a firm line before nods, seemingly satisfied. "Okay, I'm holding you to that."
The days continue to stretch on then, and one day Seokjin steals you from your shift, bribing Taehyung to cover for you while you were gone with the promise of lunch. He takes you on a little tour of his house, and treats you to lunch of home-made jajangmyeon. And when he watches you standing in the guest bedroom he'd turned into a study, looking at his accolades and year's old newspaper clippings. The soft glow of the lamps he keeps there casts shadows on your features, he watches the way you tug at the sleeve endings of the sweater that was too big on you, a motion he realised was your nervousness acting. You seem lost in your own thoughts, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you read the article of his first title match, your eyes finding his with a small smile. He realises that what he told Jeongguk about you just being friends was slowly inching its way out a window.
He'd liked you a lot since he first saw you at the bar, but he'd thought that the life he led was a little rough for someone like you. All he knew was fighting, the blood and the violence that came hand in hand with his day to day. You, on the other hand, were soft hearted and sweet. He remembers the way you paled when you came to the Boxing Gym one Friday night, seeing him just after his last match with blood coming out of his nose, a sprained wrist, and a fresh bruise around his left eye, swelling and purple. You completely froze up at the sight of him. Yoongi had to constantly remind him to keep his head tilted back while he wrapped his wrist tightly, at the same time trying to reassure you that he was fine.
You expressed your dislike for the sport sometime after that, while Seokjin was allowed time off for his wrist to heal. You weren't much for the fighting, or seeing someone you cared for get hurt and you told him as much as you continued your routine of sneaking over to his place to hang out.
It may seem just a tad obsessive, with the way you seem to consume Seokjin's every thought and the way that he takes it in stride. He wants to be more to you, he wants to hold your hand and ease your every worry, and that he realised when he caught you doing your homework at the end of your evening shift. Laptop on the counter, your hair looking like you'd just rolled out of bed, a pencil behind your ear and your lip between your teeth out of habit. Taehyung was begging you to take a break from it, to wrap it up and head home and practically sprinted to Seokjin when he stepped through the automatic doors.
"You're a godsend. She won't take a damn break!" Taehyung gives Seokjin a pained look, crossing his arms over a red hoodie he's seen you in before. "Can you just - get her to relax a bit? She looks like her head's about to explode over there."
So Seokjin did just that, pulled you away from your work - ignoring your protests - and over to his place for a drink. He wasn't sure what happened then, if it was the whiskey or the way you just seemed so soft curled up at the end of his couch, your hair down but still in its state of organised chaos. He didn't question the change of clothes you had in your bag, but the cotton shorts only rides higher up your thigh with the way you shift and Seokjin has a hard time concentrating on the movie he'd put on.
At first he was talking to you, trying to keep his mind off of the way the too big tee shirt you wore slipped off your shoulder, exposing your skin to his wandering eyes. He grips the glass in his hand a little too tightly when you shift closer to him, your thigh presses against his jean clad one and he could feel the warmth of your skin. He doesn't realised just how close you'd gotten to him until he turns his head to ask you something and you were right there.
"Can I kiss you?" He asks before he can stop himself, flushing under the soft glow of the tv. He panicks internally, looking to backtrack, but his tongue was all tied up and you were kissing him first. It starts innocently enough, two glasses of whiskey now forgotten on the glass coffee table, with Seokjin kissing you softly, a hand on your
hip, gripping tighter than it had some minutes before. His other hand occupies your hair, getting tangled in the locks briefly when you straddle him, Seokjin groaning when your teeth tugs at his bottom lip. The action causes his hips to shift upwards, lips leaving yours to kiss lightly at your jaw until he reaches your pulse beating furiously underneath your warm skin and sucks a bruise there, your breathless moan causing him to pause.
"Are you sure this is okay?" Seokjin leans back, breathing heavily, tucking wayward hair behind your ear, fingers rubbing gently at your jaw as he waits for your answer. Your nod did little to satisfy, and his brows lowered as he clicked his tongue against his teeth, "Your words, sweet girl. I need you to say it."
You look at him with pretty doe eyes, soft in the way that they observe him, but filled with something much darker, and Seokjin finds himself caving before you even speak. But he's a patient man, and he continues to rub mindless circles into the skin of your waist above the band of your shorts while he waits. He frowns after a while, when he catches the nervous motion of your teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.
"Y/n," Gently, he cards his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe. "We don't have to."
"No, I want to...it's just..." Your brow furrows, and you look down at your hands that are placed flat against his chest with an expression that has Seokjin pulling back. He doesn't want to rush anything, and most importantly, doesn't want to force you into anything or make you feel like you have to go through with something you don't want.
"What is it?" Seokjin whispers into the space between you both, his fingers gently grasping your own, thumb rubbing against the back of your hand. There was a certain bashfulness to your timid smile, a flush brushing your cheeks that Seokjin could see even in the dim lighting of his living room. Your eyes meet his for a brief moment before darting away.
"I'm just not... experienced really," You admit softly, eyes closed tight, and Seokjin is surprised, tilting his head slightly.
"...You've never...?"
"I have. But it was just once..."
"Okay, that's okay. Do you wanna stop?" Seokjin ducks his head to meet your gaze, smiling gently. "We can stop."
"I don't wanna stop." You still seem too unsure for Seokjin's liking, but he chuckles at the eagerness of your fingers tugging at his shirt.
"Okay, how about.." He catches your hands with one of his, pulling you closer with his other arm around your waist, lips meeting yours with a fleeting kiss. His hand on your hip again, gently guiding your movement as he raised his hips slightly to press directly against your heated core. The bulge in his jeans is straining enough to be just a bit uncomfortable, but he doesn't want to rush. He wants to make sure that you’re comfortable, breath stuttering in his chest at your moan. "We'll just do this, yeah?"
He busies his mouth against your neck at your affirmative nod, muttering praises into your skin, leaving his mark with his teeth. Kissing you again, his tongue meeting yours and he groans, matching the rolling of your hips with his own.
"F-fuck." Seokjin pants, full lips parted as he gasps. Your smaller hand grip his wrist, the wrist of the hand that guides the movement of your hips over his clothed erection. His eyes trail up your form, taking in the light sheen of sweat that clings to your skin, your kiss swollen lips parted in a moan and a desperate whisper of his name that has him raising his hips. Bruises line your neck and chest like stars in a midnight sky, just above the low dip of the tee-shirt that belonged to one of your roommates.
You lean back, your ass resting on his thighs as your fingers fumble against the leather of his belt and Seokjin is quick to stop you. He takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss in apology, "Not tonight, pretty girl."
He ignores your pout and the soft whine that leaves you, pulling you forward, your core flushed with his hard-on. Seokjin knows just how well you can
feel him through the soft cotton of your shorts, and his hand finds purchase against the heated skin of your waist. The fingers of his other hand wrap gently around the back of your neck, pulling you downward into a kiss of heat and tongue, and you resume the smooth rock you'd started before against the rough material of his jeans. His kisses trail your jaw, nipping lightly at the skin with blunt teeth, "Just this, okay? Is that okay?"
He feels your nod, and he smiles against your skin and sucks against your flesh in a way that has your hips stuttering and a moan leaving you. He abandons his grip in favour of wrapping his arm around you, pulling your body flush against his as he thrust upwards losing his rhythm as his end neared.
"Fuck, oh fuck." Seokjin grunts, as the warm heat of his orgasm flares and soaks the front of his jeans, and you’re quick to follow, stilling above him briefly before you shudder. A moan of his name and Seokjin preses kisses into your skin, his hand rubbing mindless circles against the bare skin of your hip.
「 ──────── 」
"You seem chipper," Namjoon comments one afternoon, finding Seokjin lounging in the training room, trading his trainers for combat boots. He watches him for a moment, hands on his hips and eyebrows raised, "got a date or something?"
Yoongi pokes his head into the room, eyes curious as he watches the both of them. His bag was already slung over his shoulder, ready to leave, "Who's got a date?"
Hoseok was just behind, peeking into the room as well, "Jin's got a date? My maaan! Is it Jeongguk's friend?" His hair is still wet from the shower he'd taken, moving around Yoongi to plop himself down on the bench next to Seokjin, heart shaped smile wide on his lips.
"We're just getting dinner, no big deal." Seokjin deflects, putting a hand up to silence the teasing that he knows is coming. The boys never give him a break.
"That's a pretty big deal if you ask me," Namjoon says smiling, wiggling his eyebrows, "How long have you guys been talking now?"
"Just some months," Seokjin rises from his perch on the bench to stretch, catching the smirks on Yoongi's and Namjoon's face.
"Ah, they grow up so fast," Hoseok wipes his eyes, dramatically, "Just yesterday he was a floundering mess, and now look, they're going out for dinner."
"Shut up." Seokjin looks at the watch on his wrist, grimacing, he's gonna be late if he stands here chatting with his friends. "I'm gonna go."
"I'll walk you out," Yoongi says, giving Seokjin a look, sending a wave to the others, "See you guys tomorrow."
Seokjin and Yoongi walk from the training room, in a somewhat tense silence Seokjin isn't used to from the man. He knows Yoongi has something to say, he doesn't know what he was waiting for to start. They pass by other boxers in the halls, greetings never ending as they acknowledge Seokjin in passing. Once outside, Seokjin catches Yoongi's sigh and he looks at him, "What is it?"
"You talked to your old man yet? Or Namjoon?" The shorter man asks, glancing at him with a raised brow.
"No, I haven't. It's a hard topic to bring up, you know." Seokjin feels his shoulders tense, "I haven't seen my father in a while either."
Yoongi nods silently, index finger rubbing against his bottom lip, eyes thoughtful for a moment. "You should get it done soon." He stops at the bus stop, hitching his bag a little higher on his shoulder, "You got a match next Friday, right? You should bring it up before then."
The bus turns from down the street and Yoongi pat's Seokjin on the shoulder, "See ya, have fun with your date."
Seokjin stayed with Yoongi until he got on the bus, waving wildly at him when he found a seat next to a window. Yoongi glances at him and looks away at his frantic motion as the bus started moving again, and Seokjin could tell the man was playing his "I have no idea who that person is" card.
Seokjin drops his hand once the bus turned down the next corner, shoving it into the pocket of his jacket as he mulls over Yoongi's words. He should bring it up sooner rather than later, time's only ticking away and he wants it to be over and done with.
It isn't easy to approach his father with this sort of thing, he could already tell that conversation isn't going to go well once he gathers up the courage to have it. Namjoon was another story. Seokjin's been avoiding telling him as much as he could, quick to change the subject whenever Namjoon asked if something was bothering him. He wasn't sure how that would blow over, but right now, he didn't want the thought to linger in his mind for too long, not when he had a date in a half hour.
It wasn't his first date with you of course, there were a few others: Watching trash TV shows after cooking dinner together, taking walks in the park not too far from
his place. Impromptu study dates, and him pulling you way from your books when you couldn't stare at the words any longer.
This would be your first official date and Seokjin feels nervous even as he waited just outside your apartment complex, sitting in his car that he rarely used and feeling warm even though the AC was on full blast. He checks his watch for the fifth time, he was early and he hopes you won't mind.
Should he go up and wait? He's only been to your apartment once or twice, the first time begin when he'd met Taehyung properly, who was desperate to erase his first impression of stumbling drunkard.
Seokjin was checking his watch again, watching the seconds tick by as he taps his fingers against the staring wheel. He was startled by a tapping on the glass next to his head, turning to find a smiling Taehyung waving at him through the black tinted window.
"Hey! You're early," Taehyung says once Seokjin rolled the glass down, and Seokjin offers a nervous laugh that sounded a little weird to his own ears and clears his throat. "Y/n'll be down in a second, she's just getting a pep talk."
"A pep talk?" Seokjin's brows furrow, could you be having second thoughts? Shit, did he rush into this by asking you out?
"She's just nervous, Guk's calming her down." Taehyung says smiling still, and then he turns serious, the sudden shift in his attitude sets Seokjin on edge and he blinks owlishly up at the younger man. There was a noticeable clench to his his jaw, the motion of his eyebrows lowering makes him look more pissed off than anything as he leans down a bit, narrowing his eyes. "I know that Guk already gave you the talk, so I'm not going to bother. You better be serious about her or I'll do more than kick your ass."
"Hey! Stop that!"
Taehyung straightens, peering over the top of the car, smile back on his lips in the blink of an eye. Seokjin turns and looks through the passenger side window, just in time to see you put your hands on your hips and narrow your eyes at Taehyung. The man himself steps away from the car, hands up in surrender.
"Not doing anything! Just telling Jin that you should be back early cause you got morning classes." Taehyung smiles innocently, moving around the idling car to open the door for you, "Be safe you two!"
You send him off with a smack to his arm, rolling your eyes as you got in the car. Seokjin only just took in what you're wearing: a navy blue summer dress that ended just above your knees, converse highs that matched and a faded denim jacket covered your arms. Seokjin eyes the whisps of your hair that's come out of the up-do and curled against your neck, and he tucks his fingers into his palm in an attempt to stop himself from playing with the strands.
Your scent invaded his scenes after, peaches and cream, and a floral smell that he'd always caught on you. You smile shyly at him, gloss tinted lips tugging slightly at the corners as you buckled in and offered a soft greeting, "Hi,"
"Hi," Seokjin echos, feeling giddy and like a teenager going on his first date. Honestly, he should be calmer, considering this wasn't the first time you were alone with him, but he can't help it! You just look all sweet trying to avoid his gaze and tugging on the sleeve of your jacket, Seokjin couldn't help but chuckle, but he felt at ease, knowing that you were just as nervous as he was.
As he drove, it didn't take long for the nervous atmosphere to dissipate and leave both him and you filling the silence with chatter. The radio plays softly, and Seokjin hums along, navigating the streets with ease.
About fifteen minutes into the drive, he was holding your hand, chuckling at the flush on your cheeks. You both were way beyond holding hands to be shy about anything, but Seokjin couldn't help the racing of his heart or the thought that his hand might be sweating.
"Where are we going?" Comes your soft voice, eyes darting around at the streets that were no doubt unfamiliar to you. Seokjin throws a wink your way just to see you blush and look away, "Is this the part where you tell me
you're a vampire and kill me?"
"Now that you mentioned it, my favourite blood type is B-positive," Seokjin laughs at his own joke, all squeaky and high, amidst your tinkling laugh. He shakes his head, dark hair tickling his eyelashes, he sends a wink your way just to see you flush and taps a finger against his nose, "It's a surprise."
Seokjin probably could've taken you for a nice dinner in an upscale restaurant where they charge too much for too little, but seeing your eyes light up and a beaming smile was worth it. The smell of cotton candy and a ton of other smells Seokjin couldn't possibly decipher immediately bombards his senses, and the chatter of so many people wasn't enough to drown out the sound of crashing waves.
Seokjin leads you around mostly, his hand only leaving yours to allow you to eat the sickeningly sweet caramelized nuts you bought. Content enough to just simply walk around and take in the sights, Seokjin ignores the slim paper wristband that granted you access to any ride and game stall until you both got sick of it.
He was happy enough to watch the glow of the fairy lights strung around the edges of the broad walk and the many booths reflect in your eyes. Idle chatter about rigged carnival games and terrible jokes filled any silence that dared to settle as Seokjin swings your conjoined hands between you.
You both stop at the edge of the broad walk, where the ocean went on for miles, under the glow of the Ferris wheel. Seokjin traces patterns against your palm, allowing the feeling of your soft skin be his distraction.
"Are you okay?" You ask, tilting your head at him, staring with curious doe eyes that just made Seokjin want to smother you with a million kisses. A light breeze blows, your hair dancing with it, and Seokjin didn't miss the chance to tuck it behind your ear.
"Sorry," He murmurs, eyes now cast on the horizon far away like his mind in that moment, "There's a lot on my mind right now."
You hum, "Wanna talk about it?" You turn your hand in his, the soft squeeze you gave was a comfort, "Might make you feel better..."
Seokjin huffs a soft laugh, drowned out by the carnival and the ocean's dance. He shakes his head though, not wanting to put a damper on the calm mood that settled around you both with his issues. He sighs, looking up at the cloudless night sky, just able to make out the twinkle of stars far away, "It's their last night here, so there's gonna be fireworks...we could watch from up there?" He motions at the Ferris wheel.
Your shoulders drop a bit, but you smile, and if you were disappointed by his dismissal to let you in, you didn't show it. Simply squeezing his hand in yours and nodding as though you already knew that he'd bring it up on his own eventually.
「 ──────── 」
"You're leaving?!" Namjoon was quicker in processing Seokjin's words than Hobi and Jeongguk, who sits on the floor of the training room with equally shocked expressions. Yoongi stands by the door Seokjin insisted he kept locked so no one would come in, arms crossed and leaning against the wall looking tense. "Jin-"
"Relax, Joon. Let him talk." Yoongi says, putting up a hand in an attempt to placate.
Seokjin sends him a grateful glance, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Yeah, I'm leaving."
Namjoon looks more than a little ruffled, running a hand through his hair, "Can I talk to you?" the younger man casts a glance around the room. "Alone?"
The door unlocks with a click, and the boys filed out after Yoongi. Namjoon paces for a while, and Seokjin can do nothing but watch. He knew Namjoon wouldn't take it very well, and he knew there'd have to be a good couple words on his path to calm him down. Namjoon hadn't wanted in on this business, Seokjin knows that. The only reason he agreed to become his manager was because they're friends, and he's sure his father put in a few convincing words to rope him in.
"Is there a reason? I mean...of course there's a reason, I just...Jin you're the reason I'm here, the only reason. You can't just-"
"Joon,"
Seokjin cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little, "I'll be straight with you; I'm tired okay? I'm tired of all of this. The fighting, my father... I'm tired and I just want out."
"... Well, if you're leaving then I'm going too." He seems so sure of himself, a determined look in his brown eyes. Seokjin goes to protest, snapping his mouth shut when Namjoon puts up a hand. "I followed you in, so I'm following you out."
The door opens again and Yoongi pokes his head in, "All good?" At the men's nod he claps his hands together, "Alright. Let's go talk to the big man then."
「 ──────── 」
Seokjin takes a breath, looking back at Namjoon and Yoongi who were kind enough to walk with him to his father's office. They stand a little ways behind him, Namjoon making a shooing motion with his hand and Yoongi giving him a close-lipped smile and a thumbs up.
"We'll wait here, alright?"
Seokjin nods at Yoongi's words, and before he can give his nerves a chance to fester any longer, he pushes the door open. His father sits behind his mahogany desk, signing some paperwork or another, looking up at his entrance over dark framed glasses.
"Seokjin, what brings you here?"
"I wanted to talk. It's important."
His father fixes him with narrowed eyes, leaning back into his leather chair, waving a hand at the seats in front of the desk. Seokjin feels a little stiff, walking towards the chair and sitting down, it feels a little too soft for his liking, making him even more uncomfortable. The air is tense as they do nothing but stare at each other for a long while, and Seokjin feels that all familiar tension bunching the muscles of his shoulders tight.
"Go on, I don't have all night."
Seokjin white knuckles the handle of the chair he sits in, jaw clenching as he sighs a harsh breath through his nose. This is exactly why he didn't want to do this, his father's coldness towards him was off-putting at any time.
"I'm leaving." He decides to go straight to the point, and feels the sweet satisfaction when his father pales just the slightest bit, the pen slipping from his grip to hit the table noisily.
"You're leaving?" Chi-won stares at him for a while, a laugh leaving him that had Seokjin furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Do you think you could just up and leave? After everything I've sacrificed for you?"
"Don't." Seokjin raises a hand, shaking his head, "Don't say that like you've done shit for me in the past eleven years." His hand shakes, the nerves he felt earlier swiftly turning into anger at his father's words. "You wanna talk about sacrifice? I have done everything! I'm the one working my ass off every damn night, putting my fucking life on the line just so you could sit there in that chair acting all high and mighty."
"Watch your tone, boy."
"No. You know what? Fuck you. And fuck this. I'm not just gonna sit here and let you look down on me and treat me like I'm dirt under your damn shoe." Seokjin felt tears brimming his eyes despite the anger he felt running rampant, it feels good to finally put his foot down. His heart is pounding in his ears, heat flushing his skin as he stands up, "I'm tired of this bullshit. I'm leaving and there's nothing you can do about it."
By the time he was done, Seokjin was breathing hard, and his father was just watching him. Looking eerily calm in his seat, he takes his glasses off, placing them down gently. "Alright, Seokjin." The way his father says his name made his chest hurt, a sort of hollow pain that came with the knowledge that his father never actually cared about him. "You want out? Fine." He leans back into his chair, too relaxed for the situation, and Seokjin knows that something was coming.
"You can leave. But on my terms. I own you, boy, don't forget that." Chi-won says, smiling like that cat that got the cream, and Seokjin knows that he'd lost this part of the battle already.
"What terms? What do you want?" Seokjin deflates just a bit, but his anger didn't dissipate.
"Friday night. You beat my guy and you can
leave. It's that simple."
「 ──────── 」
Seokjin stands at the back door to the Boxing Gym, smoke curling from his lips as he glared at the ground under his feet. It was a habit he'd sworn to leave behind him, after the punching bag had became a reliable source to release his frustrations on. But he's wound so tightly, a coil of spring unable to unravel the last twenty minutes of his argument with his father playing reruns in his mind.
He hold the cigarette to his lips, frowning at the bitter taste of it and the lightheadedness that came with the second pull. The metal door to his left creaks open, and Yoongi steps out, raising his eyebrows at him.
"I thought you gave that up." He states, pushing the door closed with a hand. He was frowning, but didn't tug it from his fingers like he did when he caught him the first time three months ago. He leans against the damp wall, sighing as he looked at him, "I'm assuming it didn't go well?"
"What'd you think?" Seokjin didn't mean to snap, but Yoongi didn't seem to mind his tone. He sighs, smoke on the exit of his breath, "He wants me to fight. Make a grand exit or something like that. I can't leave if I don't win."
"Shit," Yoongi mutters, his frown deepening, "Are you gonna go through with it?"
"I don't have a choice, he's got my hands tied." Seokjin flicks the half finished cigarette to the ground, stepping on it. He runs a hand through his hair, "I don't know who it's gonna be either."
He felt sick, an unease twisting his stomach into knots too tight to even begin to unravel anytime soon. He knew that it wasn't going to go over well, not with the way that his father is, he was expecting some kind of backlash, but not this. Now he's riding on one thing alone; winning that match is his only ticket out of this place and he wasn't sure if he could.
"Hey." Yoongi's hand was a comforting weight on his shoulder, enough to ground him and take him out of his head. He sees the concern in Yoongi's eyes, and felt it in the way his hand tightens it's grip, "You'll be alright, we're all here for you if anything happens."
「 ──────── 」
In the days that follow, Seokjin was an anxious mess. He stayed out of the Boxing Gym for the sake of his own sanity. It was currently Thursday, and Seokjin sat in a cafe across from you, bouncing his leg nervously under the table. Things were going well between the both of you, something Seokjin was immensely grateful for; he didn't need the added stress.
You looked sleepy, chin proped in your palm and eyes dipping closed ever so often. Seokjin felt bad, knowing that your tiredness stemmed from him keeping you up late when he finally spilled his worries to you. You've been nothing but supportive, telling him to trust himself and go through with it if it's what he really wanted.
He couldn't help but feel the weight of tomorrow night already weighing him down, the pressure almost too much. It was difficult to not think about it even as he tried, trying to ground himself to the moment with the feeling of your smaller hand in his. Tried his best to focus on the purpling mark barely hidden by the collar of his tee-shirt that swallowed your form, slipping off your shoulder every time you made a move to drink from your still steaming cup of hot chocolate. Seokjin was glad that you were there with him, offering a certain comfort he couldn't get from his closet friends.
"You look worried," Your fingers tap against his palm, his eyes drawn to the motion. Quietly, he flips your hands over and traces the lines he found and use it as his much needed distraction from the large, dark cloud that loomed between the passing hours."It'll be okay, Jin."
"Only if I win..." Seokjin mutters, sighing as he leans back against the softness of the chair.
"Even if you don't, it'll be okay, yeah?" You squeeze his hand gently, "You'll just have to try again. Tae and I are coming, Jimin too, and Guk and the guys would be there. We'll all be right there, okay?"
When Friday night rolled around, Seokjin was
more than a little nervous. His father had sent word that he was on his way out, only if he could beat whoever he puts against him in the ring. The Boxing Gym was packed tonight - everyone came to see if he would win or fail the last match of his career -, Seokjin wasn't sure he's seen this much people since his first title match. The excitement that floated around only served to put him on edge. He bounces nervously on the balls of his feet, standing in the back stage office, watching Jeongguk go up against a man twice his size on the large TV mounted on the wall.
Seokjin tried to calm himself down, letting the memory of his younger self sitting in this very room so many years ago with Namjoon flood his mind. The man himself sat on the hard plastic chair, eyes glued to Jeongguk's movements, though, Seokjin could see his worry in the way he rubbed his hands against his thighs restlessly.
"He'll lose if he isn't quick enough." Hoseok mumbles, coming into the room, standing next to Seokjin with his hands on his hips. He stares at the live broadcast screening, small frown on his lips, "I think he'll be okay though, just needs to watch his footing..." Hoseok's words trail off as he winced - Jeongguk had just narrowly avoided a right hook. He suddenly spins on his heel to face Seokjin, "Oh right! I came in here for a reason."
His hand lands on Seokjin's shoulder, a little roughly, his gaze serious, "Before I say anything, your girl and her friends are here."
"I'll let them in." Namjoon stands, waving Hoseok off as he moves to the door himself. He pulls the black door, and Seokjin could just make out the top of Taehyung's head beyond Namjoon's frame.
You greet Namjoon with a smile and a friendly pat on the arm before coming in. Taehyung and Jimin following behind looking a bit awestruck and wide-eyed. Seokjin opens his arm for a hug at your approach, shuffling backwards a bit as you quickly stepped into it. Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows behind you, smiling as he not so sneakily sends him a wink before slipping away to the vending machine in the corner of the room.
"How're you feeling?" You question was muffled by his sweatshirt, hands fisting the material at his waist. You pull back slightly, chin pressed against his chest as you look up at him, "Doing okay?"
"Just nervous, but I'm okay. Thanks for coming," Seokjin smiles, feeling the tension leave his body as you clung to him and he sighs softly, leaning down with the intention to kiss you. Though, he stops short, well aware of the eight pairs of eyes on you both. His eyes dart up to find Hoseok and Namjoon staring at him fondly, and Jimin bashfully looking at the floor when his eyes met his, as though he's been caught seeing something he shouldn't.
Your soft laugh reach his ears, and you press an innocent kiss to his cheek.
"Okay!" Hoseok says loudly, clapping his hands together, startling Seokjin a bit. Everyone turns to face him, curious and listening, "Firstly, Jin, I need you to calm down. I can feel how tense you are from here. Guk's match is almost over, and when you go out there, don't think about it being your last match too much okay? You'll only be distracted, and that's the last thing you need tonight. You're an all-rounder, so anyone Chi-won puts against you shouldn't be too hard to beat. Just keep a level head and you'll be fine."
Seokjin nods along to Hobi's words, the nervousness he's only just gotten rid of returning tenfold as the ringing of the bell sounded loudly. He felt as though his heart was about to burst out of his chest with the speed it's going at, and he tried his best to breathe. He's not felt this nervous about a match in a while, and he remembers why he hated the gut wrenching feeling eating away at him as he watched Jungkook step under the ropes of the ring.
"Good luck," You whisper, your hand giving his a gentle squeeze before letting go and moving away.
Seokjin sucks in a breath, releasing it harshly through his nose and nods resolutely to himself, "Alright, let's get this over with."
He leaves the room with Namjoon
following behind, determined to spend the duration of his match on the outskirts of the ring despite Seokjin's protests. The people lining the corridors moves past him in a blur, some of them wishing him luck, and some only acknowledging him with a wave of their hands. He needed to keep a level head, like Hoseok said, even though he's going into this match with his eyes covered and hands tied, he needed to focus. So everyone's words passes through his ears without so much as an afterthought, Seokjin's mind only occupied with focusing on his breathing and attempting not to throw up even though he could feel the bile racing it's way up his throat.
"Jin!" Pulled out of his head, Seokjin finds Jeongguk jogging towards him and Namjoon. He skids to a stop before them, sweat glistening chest still heaving, a purpling bruise decorated his jaw, but Seokjin was sure he wasn't feeling the pain of it just yet. No doubt he was still running high on adrenaline from his match.
"Nice work out there, Guk. You did good," Jeongguk's chest puffs up, unable to hide his pride at Seokjin's praise.
"Thanks," He smiles, eyes bright, "Good luck out there, I know you'll win."
Seokjin couldn't help but think differently, despite everyone's encouraging words - words that were meant to give him confidence. He felt pressured, with everyone's eyes on him, everyone's high expectations, and feeling worse still, knowing that the entire city was watching. He takes a breath, startling slightly when Namjoon's hand lands on his shoulder, he nods his thanks at Jeongguk, giving a smile he hoped wasn't as forced as it felt.
"I'll see you after," Jeongguk smiles at him, stepping past him and Namjoon. When he leaves, Seokjin sighs loudly, earning Namjoon's concerned glance.
They walk further down the hall, the presence of others dwindling more and more the closer they got to the door. He could hear his match being announced, his opponent unnamed, and the loud screams of the crowd. Seokjin closes his eyes for a moment, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth, Hoseok's words playing on his mind.
"Yoongi and I will be right there, just take it easy okay?" Namjoon was staring at the door, worry evident in the furrow of his brow and the sigh that leaves him. The doors are pulled open and Seokjin is almost blinded by the lights, the screams of the crowd only grows as he and Namjoon make their way to the ring.
Yoongi was off to the side, dressed in all white, the red band around his forearm standing out against it. He gives a little nod of his head, eyes soft as he watched on. Seokjin pulls his sweatshirt over his head and passes it to Namjoon, feeling a little less nervous now as he took another deep breath.
"Good luck." Namjoon says, patting his shoulder as he steps off to the side near Yoongi. Seokjin enters the ring, ducking under the red ropes and moving to stand in the neutral zone, trying his best to ignore the camera crew buzzing near the edges. The announcers words filter through his ears as he waits for the doors on the other end to open.
When they do, Seokjin wasn't surprised to realise that he didn't recognize the man approaching the ring with his father. Chi-won's presence didn't elicit much reaction, only looking like a father here to support his son's final match, but Seokjin knew better. The dark look in his eyes spoke only to him as Chi-won kept eye contact and Seokjin refused to be the first one to back down. His opponent enters the ring, and Chi-won walks over to the table where the officials sat, and it was only then that he looked away.
Seokjin eyes his opponent, a tree of a man that smirked when their eyes met. His name finally given, but Seokjin was barely paying attention to it, his only focus was winning the match. The referee stands between the both of them, motioning them closer, they shake hands as the referee went over the dos and don'ts, and reminded them of the illegal blows. The man's grip was tight, squeezing Seokjin's hand almost painfully before he releases and they step back to the neutral zone.
Seokjin fishes
his mouth guard out of the pocket of his shorts, slotting the hard piece of plastic between his teeth. He straps his red boxing gloves on, making sure that the laces were tight and the velcro straps secured as his opponent did the same.
The bell rings.
Seokjin shifts backwards as his opponent lunches at him, ducking under his swinging fist. The man turns quickly on his feet, black glove connecting with Seokjin's jaw. Seokjin staggers back a moment, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes tight as they cross, a high pitched ringing staring in his right ear. He could taste copper in his mouth where his teeth met his tongue.
The man didn't give Seokjin time to catch his bearings, fists moving in rapid strikes and Seokjin could only shield his face with his forearms. He takes quick steps backwards to the corner of the ring, where the man was forced to back off when the referee came between them.
Seokjin shakes his arms, a dull ache settling, nothing he wasn't used to. The match was off to a bad start with him already on the defense, he needed to turn it around fast. The man was quick on his feet, but Seokjin was faster, he just needed to get an opening.
The two circle eachother for a moment, the man's mouth moving but his words unheard over the crowd. Seokjin makes the first move, aiming for the man's side, he barely registers the dull shock that ran through his hand from the impact his other hand coming up to catch the underside of his chin.
Seokjin misses the fist that come flying towards him, no time to step back when it hits his temple, other fist connecting with his cheek. The man steps away as the referee yells, hands up as he backs off, and Seokjin could barely see straight.
"That's illegal!" Yoongi yells, Namjoon trying in vain to stop him from moving from his spot, grabbing his arm and tugging him backwards. "That asshole--"
By the time the second round was over, Seokjin could feel the way his limbs ached. He could feel himself slowing down as he ran out of energy. His opponent wasn't doing much better, mouth guard missing and blood dripping from his busted lip. He could see his father just off to the side, the smirk he wore daunting. Seokjin's ears were ringing so loudly he could barely hear a thing, it was clear to him, and probably everyone watching, that his opponent was trying his best to damage him. His head ached with a harsh trob at his temple, and Seokjin was quick enough to avoid a hit at the back of his neck. The old wound that split his brow was open and bleeding, though he couldn't feel it over his headache.
Seokjin bounces on spot, squeezing his eyes shut only for the minute he was allowed. The deafing roar of the Boxing Gym did little to settle the ringing of his ears. Blood was dripping into his eye and he could bearly hear Namjoon shouting something to someone - he has no idea where his mouth guard had gone. The match was stopped briefly, his opponent, stalking in the neutral zone of the ring, looking a little too eager for Seokjin's taste.
Someone enters the ring, ducking between the ropes at the referees persistence, hurrying over to him with a first aid kit. Through the sweat and the blood dripping into his eyes, he could just barely make out the form of Yoongi, squating in front of him and the bright shine of a light in his eyes. Yoongi's words were muddled, and Seokjin felt as though his head was under water, but he doubt he would have heard him even if his ears weren't ringing right now.
"Jin! Can you continue the match?" Namjoon's voice was suddenly loud in his ear, and Yoongi was making quick work of the gash in his eyebrow that he'd somehow manage to acquire. He nods, a little dazed - the world had only just stopped spinning for him - and he got to his feet, ignoring the worried glance that Yoongi shared with his manager.
A new mouth guard was pressed firmly into his palm, and he took a deep breath in and a calm exhale. He could do this; it's the last round. All he has to do is knock out his opponent. Shouldn't be too hard, but the man has proven that he could take
a hit, if the previous round was anything to go by. If Seokjin wasn't too busy trying to shake off the beginnings of the concussion he knew would follow after that blow he took to the head, he'd be impressed.
Yoongi gives him a pat on the shoulder, and ducks back out of the ring, standing next to Namjoon who looked perplexed and unconvinced as Seokjin gave a thumbs up to the referee. The match began again, and Seokjin and his opponent circled eachother for a brief second, taunting words slipping through the man's mouth guard, muffled and threating.
He barely had time to slip backward as the man threw a fist forward, just grazing Seokjin's nose. He could barely see straight, it was a wonder he didn't stumble, and in his state, he was on the defensive. He wondered how far the timer's gone, if the minutes were ticking by as slowly as he presieved them, Seokjin shook his head slightly, the action sending a ricocheting pain around his skull that had him nauseous; he needed to stay focus or he'll risk this win. He could just spot Namjoon's worried expression, his position as his manager allowing him only so much, and Yoongi was biting at the nail of his thumb, nerves evident in the action.
Seokjin jabs a fist forward, wincing slightly at the numbness of his hand inside the glove, just managing to distract his opponent enough for him to bring the other upward, connecting with the underside of his jaw with the speed that he was well known for. The man teethered backward, tilting and falling backwards by the blow and Seokjin counted the seconds as the referee approaches to make the count.
With just a few seconds left on the timer, Seokjin breathes a sigh of relief as his opponent was unable to stand to continue. There was the unsavoury tatse of copper in his mouth, and the ache in his head that only rose with the sound of the bell and the cheers of the crowd.
Seokjin's arm was raised, the man wincing at the action, as he was declared the victor. He could feel his father's dark stare boring into the back of his head, but Seokjin's head felt heavy, the start of a headache already promising to split it in two. He still heard everything as though his head was under water - screams of the audience muddled - and the smile he gave to the flashing cameras felt more like a grimace. Yoongi was in the ring moments after, doing his job with a scowl as he checks over Seokjin's unconscious opponent. The taps against his bruised cheek heavier than they should be, prying the man's eyes open to check.
He was over to Seokjin's side in seconds, leading him under the ropes. He saw his father stand, hands clenched at his sides, the ticking of his jaw not subtle enough to hide. Seokjin knows that he wanted to say something, that he wanted to do more than stand where he was, but their reactions to eachother would better be done behind closed doors, away from public scrutiny. So, Seokjin did the next best thing, and bowed respectfully, taking a ragged breath as the bruise on his side protested.
Namjoon helps him straighten, a pained expression on his own face as he looks him over. Yoongi begrudgingly stays behind, overseeing the medical team as they attended to the still unconscious man in the ring. He makes a circle motion with his finger, silently letting them both know that they'd see him after. Namjoon leads Seokjin carefully back to the back stage doors, with the man himself making sure that he didn't trip over his own feet.
"How's your head?" Namjoon asks, voice low as Seokjin squints at the harsh lighting. He tried his best to not let the still buzzing crowd get to him, the people's voices loud to his ears as they trickled out of the Boxing Gym for the night.
"Just about ready to pop. I'm pretty sure I have a concussion."
Seokjin's words were slurred, as though he'd drank more than he could handle. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and he already dreads the aching of his limbs he could feel under the sparks of adrenaline. They make it through the door, Namjoon stilling as he almost rams right into Hoseok. Smiling bright
enough to rival the sun, Hoseok bounces on spot, excitement rolling off him in waves. Seokjin didn't have time to prepare himself for his shouting. "YOU DID IT!"
Seokjin winces at the volume of his voice, squinting at Hoseok as he wiggled his arms about in some sort of weird victory dance.
"Dude, inside voices only." Yoongi squeezes past Namjoon, shuffling him and Seokjin forward a bit as he pulls the double doors wide open. "And you guys can't stand here, they're bringing that asshole through."
Sure enough, the medical team was coming through the door, gurney between them. As they passed Hoseok whistles, patting Seokjin on the shoulder, "Did a number on him huh?"
The chuckle that leaves Seokjin was pained, his side aching on his exhale. He was half expecting to lose the match, he thought he was done for with the hit to his temple. The pain was worth it he supposed, with his freedom now in his grasp, finally able to shake lose the chains that weighed him down. He smiled despite the pain in his jaw, reaching over to pat Hoseok's cheek, a soft look in his eyes.
"Woah, don't look at me like that." Hoseok teases, swatting at Seokjin's hand lightly, "That's kinda gay, bro."
The four share a laugh, feeling light at heart as they crowd the backstage doorway, speaking softly while being mindful of Seokjin's headache. They were joined not much later by the other boys, being led by you who smiled so brightly Seokjin thought he just might go blind untop of everything else. Plans were made for a celebratory dinner at Seokjin's place for later, and Namjoon left, saying that he had to pack up this things to leave as well.
Jeongguk was practically bouncing off the walls in his excitement, almost vibrating in place as he told Seokjin about everything he found cool about his match. The man himself chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.
"You doing okay?" Your words were whispered, breath warm against his chest, as you look up at him, squinting a bit. Seokjin nods, his hand squeezing gently at your hip when he smiled. He finally felt as though he could breathe, head now above the water he was sinking in, though the feeling was a tad bitter, as things were still left undone.
The small group of four slowly made their way down the hall, Hoseok and Jeongguk talking animatedly a couple steps ahead, and Seokjin and You lingering behind, soft words between you both.
"You sure you're okay? You look a bit woozy," You like at his stomach, making Seokjin chuckle and gently swat at your hand. He leans down a bit, lips pressing against your temple briefly.
"I'll let Yoongi check me over before we leave, okay?" You seem pleased with his answer, nodding with a smile.
「 ──────── 」
Seokjin's hair was still damp when he was halfway through shoving his spare clothes into his bag, little droplets dangling off the ends of his dark hair. His locker now empty, name tag gripped tightly in his hand after he'd pulled it from the slot in the door.
Almost quiet footsteps reach his ears, and he turns, half ready to tell Namjoon that he was ready to leave. "I'm comin- Oh."
His father stood at the door, looking older than he'd seen him in years, a sort of sadness in his eyes as he watched him. Seokjin knew he'd come to him on his own, and he watches Chi-won expectantly as he shouldered his bag, eyebrow raised slightly.
"I suppose I should congratulate you." His father kept the distance between them wide, hand still on the door's handle. Seokjin tightens his hold on his bag strap, chest feeling tight. The revelation that he's won, that he was just a couple minutes shy of leaving this place behind had him a bit winded. Everything he's worked hard for is now being placed behind him and he's closing off this part of his book. "I wish you the best of luck out there."
"Thank you." Seokjin mutters, quietly as his brows furrow slightly. He breathes in a soft breathe, looking around at the dangling florescent lights and the white tiles beneath his feet for the last time. His father still
hovered at the door, mouth set in a firm line as though he was having an internal battle with his thoughts. Seokjin deeming the conversation over, he makes his way to the door, brushing by his father who stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"You..." He trailed off, strong brows furrowed as he struggled, "You did good kid."
Seokjin couldn't stop the surprised sound that left him or the tears that spring to his tired eyes, hearing the words he'd longed to hear for years fall from his father's lips. He didn't know what to say to him, mouth opening for a minute before it snaps shut. He wanted to ask why, after all this time he chooses now, when he was on his way out to say such a thing.
"Thanks...Dad."
His father nods, a little sadly Seokjin notices, and he takes his hand, giving a soft squeeze. "I'll keep in touch."
「 ──────── 」
Seokjin walks around you, his hand brushing yours as he places the opened bottle of wine and what was left of it in his fridge. Once the boys had left, Seokjin noticed the quiet of his house without the loud sound of Hoseok's laugh or Taehyung and Jeongguk bickering over who got the last of the grilled pork.
Seokjin had been feeling light all night, weight finally lifted off his shoulders, surrounded by the people he held close to his heart, and you, closer still. He didn't want to think too much, headache eased but still present, as he swayed you slightly, standing behind you as you washed the dishes.
Your soft giggle reaches his ears when his lips pressed against your neck, hands gripping your hips and squeezing gently. Your head drops back against his shoulder, a sigh leaving you, "You're distracting."
Seokjin hums noncommittally, mouth sucking light bruises against your flesh, "This dress is distracting," And it was, soft blue cotton clinging to your form, swaying with your every movement and Seokjin had caught himself staring at your legs halfway through dinner. He leans over you, shutting off the tap and ignoring your little groan as he spun you around.
"I wanna finish washing those, you know." Even as you said this, you made no move to stop him as he kisses you, tongue finding yours instantly.
"Why do those when you could be doing me?" Seokjin whines, pulling away from you, his forehead resting against yours. He tugs at the end of your skirt lightly, hand straying, sliding up your thigh.
He pulls you away from the sink, walking backwards and almost tripping, much to his embarrassment. You laugh, taking his hand and leading the way instead. He watches the way your hips sway enticingly, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
When you got to his bedroom, Seokjin had you up against the door, legs around his waist, his hand in your hair as he tugged. He groans against your neck, pressing his straining bulge against your core, hissing through his teeth at your moan. He pulls away from you, setting you on your feet, "Fuck, take that off."
His fingers fumble with the zipper at the back of your dress, tugging it down so you could step out of it. He swears softly at the sight of you, staring up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, kiss swollen bottom lip caught between your teeth. He kisses you softly, gently, a hand cupping your cheek, the other, making it's way under the waistband of your panties. He groans at the wetness he found there, fingers sliding easily against your folds, smirking at the way your hips buck forward, your moan a plea against his lips.
"Eager, pretty girl?" Seokjin hums, teeth nipping at your earlobe just as his fingers slipped inside your heat. Your mouth sucks at his pulse, soft moans making his knees weak and his cock throb in his jeans. You pulled away first, and Seokjin watches with a heavy gaze as you sink to your knees, his hand finding your hair when your fingers unbuttoned his jeans.
He drags his bottom lip through his teeth, watching you pull his cock out, he sighs at your touch, fingers trailing lightly up his shaft to the leaking red tip. Pink tongue darting out for a taste and Seokjin groans, grip in your hair
tightening a little, "Don't tease."
Your warm breath ghosting over the head of his cock had him twitching in your grip, your lips wrapping around him a second later. "Shit." Seokjin braces his weight against the door, palm against it as your head bobbed between his legs, and Seokjin knew he wouldn't last long in the heat of your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder. Hips jerking forward when you swallowed around him and he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling tingles running up his spine and the way his stomach tensed. "Fu-- stop. Baby stop."
You pull away with a giggle as his chest heaved and he counts to ten, trying his damnedest not to bust his load right then. His groan a little high pitched when you flicked your tongue against him, thighs tensing up. He pulls you up by your arms, shuffling awkwardly to his bed with his jeans constricting his movement. He shucks them off, legs tangling in his haste, the view of you blocked momentarily as he pulled his shirt over his head. Missing you sliddling your underwear off to throw on the floor.
You scoot up the bed when Seokjin crowds your space, pressing kisses and bruises against the soft skin of your chest. Rutting his hips forward, dragging his cock against your slick folds. You fingers tangle in his hair, chest rising and falling quickly.
Seokjin smirks, his bottom lip already red and swollen, found its way between his teeth as his eyes left yours to look at the mess he's made of you. With his thumb he kept his cock in place, hips rolling in a slow, torturous pace and your eyes fluttered close when the head of his cock brushed your clit.
"Fuck, Jin ple--" Your words trailed off as Seokjin finally pushed in, taking his time to savour the feel of your walls fluttering around him. His lips parts, releasing a moan that had you clenching tightly and him cursing. Seokjin sets a slow pace, it was more of a slow grind than measured thrusts.
His hands trailing up to grip your hips, bottom lip held prisoner between his teeth as he savoured the feel. He leans down, pressing a firm kiss to your swollen lips, stopping his movements briefly. "You ready?" He whispers, his mouth an inch away from yours, large hand now gripping your thigh. You nod as eagerly as you could without knocking your forehead against his.
Seokjin kisses you again, gently nipping at your bottom lip, before he leans back and sets a punishing pace. He watches your eyes roll back, fingers curling into the dark sheets, a moan of name had him gripping your thighs harder.
"Oh fuck, yes baby girl. Fuck, yeah say my name like that." He groans, hips snapping against yours, you hiccup a moan, the sound broken in two by Seokjin's thrust. He could feel you squeezing so tightly around him, the pitch of your moans rising in his ears. You're whimpering, sweet, needy moans against his lips, fingers tight in his hair, your hips meeting his thrusts halfway. He slots his hand between you, fingers rubbing in quick circles against your clit, grunting when your pussy clenched. "Wanna come, sweet girl? Hmm?"
"Y-yeah," You bite down on your bottom lip, thighs squeezing tightly around his waist. Seokjin groans, chasing his high with you, not bothering with the sweat that dripping into his eyes, hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. You suck in a sharp breath, high pitched moan following as your body tensed and shuddered, walls tightening.
"That's it -- Fuck, yes. Good girl. Fuck." Seokjin couldn't keep his pace, thrusting hard and deep, whispered warning a precursor to his end. He barely manages to get the words out before he stilled, painting your insides with his cum. His arm beside your head struggles to hold his weight as he trembled above you. He milked his cock with a few lazy, shallow thrusts, leaning down to press kisses to wherever he could reach.
"I love you," He murmurs against your skin as your run your fingers through his damp hair, words repeated back softly with a light laugh.
Seokjin laid half awake later that night, contented with the way everything had fallen into place like a
puzzle. With your warm body pressed against his side, light snores leaving your parted lips as you shifted an mumbled nonsense in your sleep. He holds you a little tighter, closing his eyes with a tired sigh and a kiss against your hair.
「 ──────── 」
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