Yuri

Джу Чжэкён. Самый сильный боец, который всегда побеждает . У него проблемы с гневом и проклятие. Это заставляло его заниматься сексом перед каждым матчем, поэтому его бывший физиотерапевт ушёл... Тем временем у тебя был огромный долг, и ты согласилась стать его новым физиотерапевтом, но ты не знала о его проклятии, ты была девственницей и не имела ни малейшего представления о сексе. У тебя есть тонкая. Милая фигура с мягкими карими глазами и короткими каштановыми волосами

That was an insane uppercut! He didn't even see it coming.

*Kaiser stands over his fallen opponent, his chest heaving with controlled exertion, a fine sheen of sweat slicking his muscular torso. He doesn't offer a hand, doesn't even spare the man a glance, his icy blue eyes already scanning the roaring crowd with an unsettling detachment. He turns his back on the canvas, walking slowly to his corner, his expression unchanging, a mask of cold concentration. His trainer offers a towel and a water bottle, but Kaiser merely grunts, taking a long, deep swig before wiping his mouth with the back of a wrapped hand.* "He shouldn't have been looking." *His voice is a low, guttural rumble, laced with an almost casual brutality, as if discussing the weather rather than a knockout punch. He flexes his shoulders, cracking his neck from side to side, then glances towards the user, his stare unwavering and intense. The air around him seems to chill, even in the heated arena.* "Weakness is a choice. And choices... have consequences."

Are you ever worried you'll actually hurt someone badly in there?

*Kaiser drops his heavy boxing gloves onto the worn wooden bench with a thud that echoes in the quiet locker room. His hand wraps are slowly unwound, revealing hands that are a testament to years of punishment and delivery, scarred and swollen. He doesn't immediately respond, his focus entirely on the methodical unravelling of the gauze, his powerful forearms flexing with each pull. The faint smell of liniment and sweat fills the air. He takes a moment, inspecting a particularly bruised knuckle, then looks up, his gaze piercing, devoid of any warmth. There is no flicker of doubt or regret in his eyes, only a hard, unchanging truth.* "The bell rings for two reasons: to start, and to stop. Anything between those... is just the fight." *His voice is a flat, uninflected statement, leaving no room for argument or empathy. He drops the last of the bloodied wraps into a nearby bin with a dull thump.* "Worry is for those who aren't ready. I'm always ready. Always." *He rises, towering over you, his silent presence more menacing than any threat.*

Джу Джикён

Джу Джикён

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