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— DOCTOR’S ORDERS: kimura x reader

ᥫ cw: suggestive, roleplay ᥫ wc: 1454 ★ the question isnt if people even gaf about hajime no ippo, it's whether or not xixi cares about all that. anyway ... im afraid im in love w kimura ... idgaf if hes a loser or an unimpressive boxer, HES MY BOYFRIEND IDC IDC cross posted on ao3 — MINORS DNI! —

— THERE’S ONE CURE TO LOVESICKNESS.

[♡]: you had known about kimura’s peculiar track record when it came to girls, how so far, he’s gotten two consecutive fevers over girls who didn’t end up liking him back. Takamura made sure you knew of these two incidents long before you started dating him. Lucky for you, you’re able to narrow down these symptoms to lovesickness. And lucky for Kimura, you have just the cure.

KIMURA HAD RUSHED TO YOUR ROOM TO FIND IT SHROUD IN DARKNESS. He had received your call earlier at the gym. You sounded urgent, not that you shared much details but you were quite insistent you come over, something something minor medical emergency that he shouldn’t worry about, but he should definitely come over for. So, being the good boyfriend he is, he comes over, pushing his worry as far aside as he can solely because you had assured him it wasn’t anything serious.

But when he steps into your room, lights turned off with so little sign of life from you, he can’t help but at least be a bit worried.

The fleeting light from the outside hallway vanishes as soon as he closes the door. Kimura takes careful steps to your bed, eyes straining to adjust in the darkness as he makes his way towards you— or… at least where he thinks you are. He had caught a glimpse of your messy bed, blankets all huddled up around you in a tight cocoon. But you hadn’t moved or made a noise when he came in, so he assumes you’re asleep.

Kimura sits himself on the edge of your bed, gently calling out your name before gingerly placing a hand on top of you. Now, your boyfriend was a professional boxer, meaning his reflexes and reaction time weren’t something to sneeze at. Still, it gives you the smallest bit of pride knowing you’ve caught him off guard.

His hand sinks into the mound of blankets, finding only fabric and pillows in place of where he thought your sleeping figure lay. Before he could panic, the lights flicker to life, the sudden brightness causing him to sneer, quickly shutting his eyes tight and shielding them with his hand. It takes a moment to recover, to register that you in fact were not in bed and that faint, cute-sounding noise was your amused giggle. He can’t help but smile at the sound, bringing his hand down from its place above his eyes, ready to throw a playful line at you when you catch him off guard for the second time that night.

In an instant, his jaw drops, whatever he planned to say, quickly melting into incoherent mush at the sight of you, or more specifically, what you’re wearing.

It was Takamura’s idea for the most part. Or at least he had played some role in this whole plan of yours. For the months you and Kimura had been just friends, Takamura had made sure to tease you about your little crush, indiscreetly shoving you in Kimura’s direction, jokingly dropping obvious hints in front of him, making up absurd things about Kimura just to get a reaction from you. It was all in good fun though, and really, if anything, you could tell that Takamura rooted for you, at least to some degree. Otherwise he wouldn’t have told you about how Kimura had fallen ill after winning his match, not because of fatigue or exhaustion, but because he had learned that the girl he liked at the time had a boyfriend.

“Takamura, there’s no way Kimura is on the brink of death.” You had told him over the phone when he had called you to share the news.

Takamura only grunted. “Yeah, yeah. But the part about the fever is true.” He had mused and you could practically hear his grin. “Heartbroken again, poor Kimura. Perfect time for you to swoop in and kiss him better, right?”

You had wrinkled your nose as your face had heated up. “Tch… Don’t kid about stuff like that, Takamura.”

Your friend’s chuckles had echoes loud enough through the phone that you had to pull it away from your ear. “I’m serious! I told you, Kimura’s gotten sick because he got dumped before. Now it’s happened again.”

You had paused for a second, thinking back to the time Takamura had teased Kimura about missing the Rookie Tournament because of it. You had shook your head, sandwiching the phone between your shoulder and ear as you returned to your work. “I didn’t even know Kimura liked anyone…” You had muttered, grumbled with a frown on your face.

“Some nurse called Reiko. Real sexy lady that one.” Takamura had said, though he sounded unamused.

“A nurse?”

Takamura had grunted. “Think she was his type too.” He had said absentmindedly. “But Aoki would know more about that than I would.”

“A nurse…” You had repeated softly, musing to yourself about exactly where that puts your chances with him.

“Oh ho? Bet you’re thinking about your chances of getting with him, huh?” Takamura’s teasing tone had rung through your ear, disrupting you from your thoughts.

You could only grumble in annoyance, brows furrowed and face bright red, as his boisterous laughter echoes from the phone. And without another word, you had hung up.

Kimura’s eyes never left you, blown wide with his lips parted as he watched you take slow strides towards him. He swallowed nervously, mouth watering at the delicious sight of the black lace stockings hugging your thighs tightly, at the creases from your tantalizingly short dress, at the cute way your little nurse’s hat sits lopsided on your head. When you reach him at the edge of your bed, he parts his legs, letting you slot yourself between them as his hands move on their own to rest on your thighs.

You look at him, a nervous expression on your face, a cute little pout and a faint dusting of pink on your cheeks. Your eyes shift back and forth from him to glance at the side, each time you meet his eyes, your cheeks grow a shade redder. Kimura can’t help but chuckle.

“This is your medical emergency?” He asks, fingers tracing the lace of your stockings.

You hum. “Well, your medical emergency actually.” You reply softly, mustering a small smile as you look back at him. “What do you think?”

He looks up at you, looking at your face contorted in genuine uncertainty. He swallows before letting out an exasperated laugh. “It’s nice. You look great.” Kimura can’t stop smiling. “Where’d you even get an idea like this anyway?”

Your gaze shifts again and you pout a bit more. “Well, is it… working for you?” Your voice is soft, quiet.

Suddenly Kimura clutches his chest and groans, leaning backwards as his face twists in agony. Panicked, you reach out to him, mouth open but no words coming out as your hands grab at his shoulders.

“T-Tatsuya? H-hey, what? Are you okay? What?” You splutter, leaning forward to try and take a look at his face, but he only leans further away, groaning louder and clutching his chest tighter. You’re too busy fretting to notice the curl of his lips or the tint in his cheeks.

He shakes his head. “Hurts…” He mutters, and still you’re too busy worrying to notice the playfulness in his tone. “Ah, nurse, you gotta help me. It’s something with my heart I think.”

“I…” Your panic slowly dies when you register that he’s chuckling softly, carefully peering at you and your flustered expression. You glare at him and turn your head away. “It’s too late for you. I’m afraid we’re gonna have to put you down.”

Kimura only chuckles louder. “Hey, you can’t just do that.” He says, a playful grin plastered on his face. “You gotta make me better right? That’s your duty as a nurse?”

You glance back at him, watching his grin grow wider before you sigh, shaking your head. With both hands on his shoulders you push him backwards, he follows. You perch a knee on the bed, following him as you push him further and further until he’s propped up by his elbows and you’re straddling his lap with either thigh pressed flush against his.

“Perhaps… I might have a cure for your pain.” You start, and Kimura can sense the shyness in your tone. “But, it is a pretty high dosage. I wonder if you’ll be able to handle it.” He’s unsure if you’re doing it intentionally or not, but you press hard on his lap, hips shifting so slightly, it can barely be called humping, either way, that combined with the bashful look on your face makes him take a shaky breath and only spurs the growing strain in his pants.

Your boyfriend smirks at you the best he can with how easily his composure is becoming undone, cupping your cheek with one hand and bringing your face closer to his. His lips brush against your, a ghost of a touch that barely lingers on your skin. “I can take it.” He whispers. “Doctor’s orders right?”

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