#boxer sukuna

[gojos-thot-patrol]

hihi im plagued by the thought of pro boxer/weightlifter sukuna dipping in an ice bath after a particularly intense workout

where can i sign to rub oils on his skin

FUCK SMOL, As a former Boxer you've unlocked something in My brain. His fucking breath still ragged, the adrenaline still pounding through his veins as he drops into the ice, the shock of the quick cold seizing his muscles as his teeth clench.

He has to find you the moment he get out, needing the stress relief. His Ice cold body craves your warm touch, to be inside your warm soft pussy. He needs you. The sensation of his chilled hands making your body react in ways you never thought even thought possible.

fuck fuck fuck, IMAGINE HIM FUCKING YOU IN THE ICE BATH?!?! Smol, what have you done.

[kbwrites]

Collision Course

synopsis: Ryomen Sukuna, heavyweight champion and your ex-boyfriend gets a wake up call when he is injured for the first time during a fight.

⚝content: boxer!Sukuna x f!reader, reader is a physiotherapist, slight angst, nsfw, choking, Toji beating Sukuna's ass bc I said so

⚝wc: 2.4k

⚝a/n: working on the requests I've gotten in the past month. This one was fun!

Ryomen Sukuna, the heavyweight champion of the world, stood in the center of the ring, his piercing gaze locked onto his opponent his focus was razor-sharp, body coiled like a spring. The crowd’s roar surged around him, but his eyes were fixed on one man—Toji Fushiguro, his gaze dark and unreadable. This wasn’t just a match—it was a reckoning, a confrontation years in the making.

The bell rang, and the arena erupted. Ryomen moved like a predator, his punches fast and lethal. But Toji met every strike with equal force, counters precise, his movements a dance of calculated power. Each round was a brutal display of skill, neither willing to back down, the anticipation in the crowd building with every punch.

Then, in the eighth round, it happened. Sukuna, sensing victory within reach, unleashed a devastating hook aimed at Toji’s jaw. His muscles coiled with the familiar rush of adrenaline, a primal drive to end the fight. But Toji, with an unsettling calm, sidestepped the attack with almost supernatural precision. In that split second of realization, Sukuna's heart pounded, the moment feeling like slow motion. With a swift sidestep, he avoided the blow and delivered a crushing punch directly to Sukuna’s shoulder. The sound of the impact was sickening—a sharp crack that seemed to echo through the arena. Pain flared instantly, his arm falling limp as he staggered back, the once unbreakable champion now vulnerable.

The crowd’s roar turned into a collective gasp. He gritted his teeth, the realization dawning that he was injured—seriously so.

The world spun, a dizzying blur of lights and colors. The roar of the crowd was a distant murmur. His mind struggled to make sense of the situation, the sharp sting of defeat sinking in as he replayed the moment Toji’s punch landed.  That scar-faced grin, a haunting image in the corner of his mind, lingered as he was wheeled through the narrow corridor.

This wasn’t happening. It had to be some nightmare. But it wasn’t… Ryomen, the undefeated champion–had been defeated.

The doors to the medical suite swing open, and your eyes see something they'd never dreamed of. Ryomen Sukuna on a stretcher, holding his shoulder as his face contorted in pain. You walked over to him, helping the medic team move him to a table.

As Sukuna settled onto the table, his gaze met yours you glanced at him with a wry smile and said, “I thought you said you don’t lose.”

He grins through the pain, his normal confidence shining through. 

“You know I can’t stay away from you for too long.”

𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ

It was never going to work. That’s what you told yourself. He was in a different world from you completely, one full of glitz and glory, a realm of raw power and relentless ambition. You had tried to convince yourself that the divide was too vast, that his world and yours were irreconcilable. But every night, as you laid next to him, it all seemed to blur, if only for a moment.

The clock ticked past midnight, you sat on the counter of your apartment’s kitchen. Eating the cup noodles as you swung your feet lazily. He had sworn he would be home early, that tonight would be different, that he’d finally make time for you amidst his whirlwind schedule.

And yet here you were. Waiting for him. Again.

The sudden clatter of keys and the turn of the doorknob sliced through the silence of your apartment. You rolled your eyes, finishing the last of your ramen with a resigned sigh.

The door swung open, and Sukuna walked in, his presence as commanding as ever. Without missing a beat, he headed straight for the kitchen where you sat. His gaze softened slightly as he approached, a smirk playing on his lips. Without hesitation, he reached for you, his lips descending toward yours in a kiss that was supposed to bridge the gap his absence had created. But as his lips neared, you caught the sharp tang of alcohol on his breath.

You pulled back just slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing your face. “You’re late,” you said, your tone a mixture of frustration and fatigue.

Ryomen, still maintaining his confident demeanor, shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Had a long night,” he said bluntly, his voice laced with a casual charm that only made your blood boil.

Without a word, you slipped off the counter and turned away, heading towards the living room. The anger you had tried to suppress now surged to the surface, and you could feel your pulse quickening with every step.

The pink-haired boxer followed, his irritation rising as he caught up to you. “What’s the problem now?” he demanded, his voice sharp.

You keep walking, refusing to face him “There’s no problem.”

He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. “Don’t play games with me.” He warns.

You met his gaze, the space between you crackling with tension. “I’m not playing games.” you shot back, your voice tight.

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with anger. “What do you want from me, woman? You think I can just drop everything and cater to your every whim?”

His crimson eyes bore into yours, you felt the beat of your heart in your chest. He closed the gap, your chest pressing against his broad one.

“I’m tired.” You grit your teeth, glaring up at your boyfriend.

“If you’re so tired of this, then why the hell are you still here waiting for me?”

His proximity and the rawness of his gaze made your heart pound even harder. The tension between you was palpable, the argument morphing. Without thinking, you closed the gap between you, your lips crashing into his with a fervor born of frustration and longing.

Sukuna responded with equal passion, his grip on you tightening as he deepened the kiss. The fight in his touch gave way to an urgent need, the argument transforming into a fierce, all-consuming embrace. The anger, the pain, and the desire all melded together, creating a storm of emotion that swept over both of you.

You walk backward to your bed, the back of your knees hitting the bed frame. Ryomen’s larger frame pushed you onto the bed, trapping you between his arms. He was rough in the ring—even rougher in bed.

His lips left your now bruised ones, moving immediately to your neck. His teeth leaving small bites along your pulse point—tongue darting out to soothe the pain. Your soft moans and whimpers echo in his ears. He rolls his hips into yours, his erection grinding against the growing wet spot in your panties.

“F-fuck… Ryo” You breathe as he unclasped your bra. His mouth latches to your nipple, expert tongue swirling around the swollen bud. His eyes flutter shut as he loses himself in your chest.

Rough hands roam your body, touch setting your skin ablaze.

Ryomen tugs your panties to the side, thick finger gathering your slick before plunging into your sopping wet cunt. He pumps in and out, mouth switching to your other nipple as his digits explore your gummy walls.

“S-shitshitshit Ryomennn~” You whine as your back arches into him. He picks up the pace, fingers scissoring inside of you as your hole clenched around him. He releases your nipple, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“Heh… thought you were tired.” His voice rumbles against your skin. If you weren’t so close to cumming you would’ve cussed his ass out but–

With an expert curl of his finger your vision goes hazy as you cum on his fingers. Not even giving you a minute to recover, he replaces his thick digits with the fat head of his cock.

He slides his throbbing length up and down your folds, tip kissing your clit before pushing into your tight entrance.

“Oh fuucckkk.” You whine as the stretch causes tears to prick your eyes. Ryomen hooks your legs over his broad shoulders. He reaches between your bodies to rub your clit, slow deliberate circles as his thick member is swallowed by your walls. He lets out a low groan as he bottoms out.

“Think you can… keep this fuckin’ pussy from me?” He mumbles slamming into your cunt, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he moves your legs from his shoulders to your ears. He loved folding you in half. You loved it too.

His pace was relentless, you felt every vein of his cock brush against your gummy walls. He always made you feel deliciously full. His large hand wraps around your neck, pressing gently on the sides.

“C-close Ryo–” You choke out.

“Oh yeah?” He smirks, feeling you flutter around him. He fucks you through your orgasm, reveling in the way your body writhed and shook underneath him. He felt the tightening in his balls as he pulled out. He removed his hand from your neck, wrapping it tightly around his cock.

He pumped a few times, thick ropes of hot cum decorated your stomach. His now sensitive tip smearing it around your tummy. Your chest heaves as your try to catch your breath, his crimson eyes raking over you. How delicious you looked out of breath–covered in his seed.

After wiping you down he lays next to you, resting his back against the headboard.  You turned onto your side, gaze tracing the lines of your boyfriend's face. His gaze fixed on you with tired eyes. Even now, in the quiet aftermath, that world tugged at him, pulling him away from you, bit by bit. You could feel it in the way he looked at you, a mix of weariness and resignation as if he knew this moment was fleeting, a brief respite before he had to dive back into the chaos that always seemed to follow him.

You reached out, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. For a brief moment, his gaze softened. His hand covered yours, warm and reassuring.

“You checkin’ my vitals doc?” he teased, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. But even that couldn’t mask the exhaustion in his voice.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You question softly, he would never tell you the truth–you knew this. But all the late nights, the endless grind—it would catch up to him eventually. He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes, his larger hand tightening over yours.

And as if on cue, the buzz of his phone shattered the fragile peace, pulling him away from you once more. He let out a sigh, grabbing the phone from the nightstand.

“I’ve got to go,” he muttered, voice flat as he moved to the edge of the bed.

You blinked, the sudden shift jarring. “What? Why? It’s the middle of the night.”

He sighed, grabbing his jacket. “Uraume needs me to make an appearance. Some sponsor event they couldn’t reschedule.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him to stay, but the words caught in your throat, weighed down by exhaustion. You were so tired—tired of fighting, tired of being second to everything else in his life. Instead, you just watched him get dressed, the silence between you stretching thin.

“Go, do what you have to do.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. ”

Sukuna paused, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual, as if he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. Instead, he nodded and turned away, leaving you alone with the cold emptiness that settled in his absence.

It was never going to work. That’s what you kept telling yourself.

𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ𖥔 ִ ་  ، ˖ ࣪  ་  ˖  ʿ

The memory faded, leaving behind a dull ache in your chest. You blinked, pulling yourself back to the present. Ryomen looked up at you from the examination table, his crimson eyes still holding that same piercing intensity.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you focused on his injury, your hands moving with practiced precision. Despite your efforts to detach, to keep things strictly professional, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze followed your every move or the subtle tension in his jaw.

“You must be loving this, huh? Seeing me like this.” His tone was harsh, almost daring you to pity him, his arrogance a brittle shield against the humiliation gnawing at him.

“I know you better than those people out there–you’re gonna be fine.” You say calmly.

He chuckles dryly. “You might be the only one that thinks that right now.”

A moment of quiet settled over the medical suite as you continued your examination. The soft hum of the lights overhead and the occasional shuffle of your movements were the only sounds breaking the tense silence. You carefully touched his shoulder, feeling for the extent of the damage.

Sukuna winced, his face momentarily contorting with the sharp flare of pain. His breathing grew shallow, and he looked away, clearly trying to mask his discomfort behind a mask of indifference.

“You've torn your rotator cuff,” you said, your voice steady despite the weight of the news. You could see the frustration in his eyes, the pride that struggled to keep his embarrassment at bay.

“Rotator cuff?” he repeated, his tone a mix of irritation and disbelief.

“Yes,” you confirmed, examining the area with a practiced touch. “It’s a significant injury, but with proper treatment and rehabilitation, you’ll recover. It’ll take some time and effort, but it’s manageable.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, and he clenched his teeth, trying to hide the strain. “Great,” he muttered, his voice taut with frustration. “Just what I needed.”

He looked at you with a mixture of exasperation and reluctant admiration.

“I was… an ass to you.” He mumbles.

“You were.” your tone matter-of-fact.

“Alright...” He warned, taking a deep breath.

“If I’m going to be stuck with this damn injury, I might as well have someone who knows what they’re doing handling it.”

He gave you a sideways glance, a mix of challenge and an unspoken request in his eyes. Despite his bravado, there was a trace of acknowledgment in his words, an unspoken plea for your help.

As you nodded, accepting his challenge with a wry smile, a familiar ache settled in your chest. You knew, deep down, that no matter how many times you tried to distance yourself, you could never really be done with him. The stubborn part of you that cared too much, that felt the pull of his presence like gravity, couldn’t quite let go.

“Let’s get you back in the ring.”

[seellove]

Eeeeee they are so cute 😭😭

I’ve reread The King multiple times already because it’s so so sweet and captivating and I’m so in love with this fictional couple 🥹 How long does it take for them to get married? I can see sukuna buying a ring like a month into their official relationship and not wanting to wait a second longer

(minors / ageless / blank blogs dni)

hi, nonnie! I would love to answer this question! I think it's so cute how many comments/asks I got about these two and when they might get married! thank you so much for reading this work! I am really proud of this fic (personally, it's one of my favorites that I have ever written) and I was originally very worried that sukuna was ooc, but it makes me so happy to see that you all enjoyed this story! I am very much in love with them as a pair and writing out the progression of their storyline was so fulfilling! xo I am so happy you all felt the same way too.

shortly after he retired, you and sukuna chose to move into together. he bought a house in a rural part of the country, surrounded by lots of green and some much needed quiet. sukuna didn't even hesitate on the decision, especially after the news of you both being together finally broke out to the public.

for you both, moving in felt like a real step. the two of you didn't need boundaries to understand one another in a relationship, because you've always been tangled in the other person's life. moving in together just gave you the luxury of exploring your intimate sides with more freedom.

and it progressed so naturally. so...seamlessly. like you were always lovers who were just waiting for this very moment.

about seven months into your relationship is when it happened.

you were getting ready for bed, standing in front of the bathroom mirror and applying your skincare. sukuna approaches the bathroom door, raising his hand overhead as he used it to lean against the frame.

he took up the entire space with his large stature.

you smiled at him from the mirror, "you're back. how's uruame?"

"good," he answers calmly, looking at you (and only ever you) with such soft eyes it makes you want to melt into a puddle on the bathroom tile.

"that's good," you answer, as you pick up your lip mask and slowly dab the sticky, silky balm on your bottom lip. "I wasn't sure what time you were getting in. I was a little sleepy waiting on the couch-"

sukuna's face remains firm, his attention on your mouth which makes him subconsciously bite his own.

your cheeks warm when you notice the reaction.

he just has the ability to make butterflies swarm in your belly without even trying.

"what?" you question a little shyly, though you aren't sure why.

sukuna steps into the bathroom, his hands find your waist, and deliberately slips underneath your pajama top so he can touch your skin. he bends down to kiss the top of your head.

"I have a question," he states.

"which is?"

"when am I allowed to actually propose to you? and I am not talking about the stupid game we used to play when we were kids..."

it catches you so off guard, you drop the pot of your lip mask along with the cap into the sink. the shock makes sukuna huff out a laugh, but all he does is squeeze your side and tuck you into him, pressing your back firmly against his front.

"propose?" you repeat, like the word is foreign. you reach into the sink, to grab your lip pot and the cap, your fingers shaking as you try to screw on the top before placing it gently on the counter.

"yes, propose. as in marriage..."

you suddenly spin on your heel to face him. sukuna actually has to cock his body back a little to ensure you don't slam your forehead into his chest.

"marriage?! but...but we only just started dating...we've only been together for a short period of time..." you ramble, your mind short circuiting at the thought.

your heart hammers so hard in your chest, but all sukuna does is reach for your hips and pick you up. he perches you onto the bathroom counter, then finds your wrists which he brings to circle around his neck.

"we have not been together for a short period of time," he clarifies as he leans down to kiss your parted lips.

you invite him eagerly, because you love kissing him. because it's your favorite thing to do. his statement lingers on his tongue, and it makes your heart and chest expand as he deepens the kiss further.

he snags your bottom lip between his teeth, tasting the berry flavored mask that you just put on. "now that's all cleared up, let's go back to my question..."

" 'kuna," you sigh.

"listen, I'm being a "gentleman" by even asking, princess. if I had it my way, I was putting a ring on your finger the second you let me stick my dick inside you..."

you grip his shirt, and tug at the fabric. "must you be so vulgar?" you say with a sarcastic pout.

"answer my question," he replies sternly, though the tone contrasts the gentle touch of his hand caressing your lower back.

you gulp down your nerves, "I-I don't know, whenever you would like to propose, I guess?"

he arches one brow suspiciously. "and you would say yes?"

that makes you your nostrils flare in offense.

your face grows even hotter.

"of course, I'd say yes!"

he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, the smug bastard. acting like what he was saying isn't even a big deal at all.

he leans forward to kiss you once more, "I'm just making sure..."

your body whirred with anticipation that night, and when you both made love later on, it somehow felt even more intimate than usual.

like your bodies were answering an age old question that it already knew.

six weeks later, he popped the question again just as you were both getting ready to go visit his step-brothers. after you finished getting dressed, sukuna pointed out that you forgot something, and when you asked him what it was, he responded by standing in front of you and slipping the ring on your finger casually.

your eyes were glossy with tears, your attention on your hand that was now anointed with a sparkling diamond.

you sniffle as you stare at him with affectionate disapproval, "you know, men usually get on their knees for this part, right?"

""I get on my knees for other reasons, sweetheart..." sukuna chuckles, capturing your wrist and placing a kiss on the inside. "and I'm not treating this like a song a dance the way your shitty ex did. this is a matter of fact. a long time coming. and besides, you already told me you were saying yes..."

you shake your head at him, but your heart feels so full. even now, despite how nonchalantly he placed the ring on your finger, you feel like you're walking on clouds. your bring your hands to his jaw as you lower him towards your lips. "I love you," you sigh, "I love you so much I don't even think saying it is enough..."

sukuna returns the kiss, one hand sliding behind the back of your neck. he traces his lips along your jaw and down the column, before dragging it back up to your ear. he holds you so close, keeps you there to murmur his adoration over you. to profess his deep love for you in return. "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me..." he whispers deeply, meaningfully, his voice ever so rich and smooth. "I love you too."

[kiyoomiee]

part one. part two. part three. part four.

boxer!sukuna who’s been in the training room for hours now. Sweat trickled all over his body as his arms never stopped swinging.

“Sukuna, you’ve been here for more than an hour now. That punching bag will break any moment.” Toji voiced out as he walked in.

“What’s wrong with you?” He tried to ask Sukuna.

“She’s mad at me. Been ignoring me for two days now.” Sukuna dropped his arms and sulked. Fucking hell, he misses you so much.

“Ah that pretty doll? Couldn’t imagine her staying mad that long with your annoying ass.”

“She’s my pretty doll. Don’t call her that.” Sukuna grumbled at Toji but the man ignored him.

“What’d you do?”

“Her medical director was being a misogynistic ass, so I punched him on her behalf.” Sukuna smirked, remembering how gratifying it was to punch the bastard in the face.

“Heh, would’ve done the same if I was there. But didn’t it occur to you that she might not want you to fight her battles for her?”

“Why wouldn’t she? I could send that man in a hospital without even breaking a sweat.”

“That’s exactly why asshole. Besides, you’ve seen how she handles herself in her own field. So go apologize instead of breaking our goddamn equipment.”

boxer!sukuna who corners you in your office so you can’t avoid him anymore. Locking the door close and closing the blinds so nobody could interfere. He went looking for you right after finishing his shower.

“We need to talk.”

“Not here Sukuna, I’m working. And I don’t want to talk to you right now.” You can see where this was going, tears already threatened to fall in the corners of your eyes.

“No. We need to talk right now, or else I’ll go crazy-“

“You’re going crazy? You haven’t talked to me in two days Sukuna. Now you’ll stroll in here and break up with me?”

“Break up?“ What the hell?

“Can’t handle the emotional part of the relationship? I should’ve known since you’re-“

“Since I’m what?” His voice was loud and angry. It was the first time he got mad at you.

“How could I even dare to break up with you when you’re constantly in my mind? When I’m trying my best just so you could notice me? When I’d surrender at your feet if you’d only say the word? I’ve pursued you for months and waited for you to see me. Even with countless rejections, I would’ve continued to wait for the rest of my life as long as there’s no ring on your finger yet. God, my infatuation even turned into obsession.” He sounds dejected as he chuckled to himself in pity.

“Now you’re saying I’m here to break up with you? No baby, I’m here to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness. Because I’ll lose my goddamn mind if I don’t have your attention on me even in a split second. Why can’t you see it? I’m so fucking in love with you that the thought of leaving wouldn’t even cross my mind.” He continued on and sighed in agony.

“Y-You’re what?” You were stunned. It was the first time he said that three lettered word.

“I love you so fucking much. So please, I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I shouldn’t have interfered because I know you could stand up for yourself. But I can’t say I regret punching that motherfucker in the face.”

“I know you won’t, ‘kuna.”

“Fuck, don’t cry baby. I’m sorry I was an asshole.” He got on his knees and wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. You leaned into the warmth of his touch.

“Yeah but thanks to your little stunt, that man was fired and I won’t have to deal with his misogynistic comments anymore.” You just finished talking to the higher ups and the HR a while ago, they assured you that they’ll handle the case and that your medical director will be terminated immediately.

“I’m sorry too Sukuna, for avoiding and ignoring you. I should’ve reached out to you sooner.”

“No, it was my fault. I should’ve reached out. It won’t happen again baby, I promise.”

“Ryo.” You called him and caressed his face.

“Hmm?”

“I love you too.” His brain stopped functioning when he heard you say that.

“A-Are you sure? I’m not pressuring you just because I said it earlier-“ Ears turning red, he was now flustered and asked just to make sure he heard it correctly.

“I love you Ryomen Sukuna, I’m very sure.” You expressed lovingly, together with a quick peck on his lips.

“You sure know how to make me crazy for you, sweetheart.”

[solrabi]

catalyst masterlist - boxer!sukuna au

synopsis:

life has many twists and turns—yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex.

word count: 14.8k

cw: afab fem!reader, descriptions of violence, size kink, dom sukuna, explicit sexual content

status: ongoing

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

epilogue

misc:

pinterest board

sukuna’s workout playlist

author’s final thoughts on this story

[bellabean24]

✩ Boxer!Ryomen Sukuna x Reporter!Fem!Reader

✩ Word Count: 1.3k

✩ Tags: SFW, badly written fight, Naoya hate, mention of naked Gojo, flirting

✩ Synopsis: Ryomen Sukuna a heavyweight champion, and you a determined a reporter who will do anything to get a interview even sneak into a locker room. Sukuna does anything to get you fall for him, with his rentless flirting and everything, but nothing can get you to break.

✩ Boxer!Ryomen Sukuna M.List | Jujutsu Kaisen M.List

The fluorescent lights buzz above the boxing ring shining down on the two fighters in the middle of it. The two fighters being boxers!Ryomen Sukuna and Naoya Zenin  with Naoya being down by a couple of punches; you sit behind the barricade between the ring in the rowdy crowd who hoot and holler. 

Taking pictures and sometimes taking down notes in your notepad, of the fight as punches are thrown between the two men. Sukuna throws another punch at his opponent, one good right hook to the side of his face causes Sukuna to knock his opponent out cold, hurriedly grab your camera taking the picture of Sukuna standing over Naoya’s knocked out body his body glistening in sweat, yelling and his arm crossed his chest. Just like Muhammad Ali. 

The crowd erupts into cheers, men and women screaming in excitement as they announce Sukuna as the remaining heavyweight champion. 

 — — — — — 

It's been 5 minutes since the fight ended. People are still in the crowd waiting for the next fight, from the corner of your eye you see that Sukuna has walked into the locker room at the end of the stadium. Pushing past the people in the crowd with small ‘excuse me’s’ leaving past your lips as you rush over to the men’s locker room. Just as you're about to walk in you are stopped by some big dude blocking the entrance, “Excuse me.” You say trying to push past him. 

The man pushes you back, not letting you enter the locker room, “You can’t enter there miss. That’s the locker room.” He says in a stern voice, “If you want a picture with the fighters you're gonna have to wait like everyone else.” 

“I’m no-” you try to get out but the man who must be a bodyguard cuts you by putting his hand up in front of your face, “I already explained it to you lady just go now,” he snaps at you shooing you off. Huffing you look around trying to find some other way in just as you're about to open your mouth to argue your way into the locker room, two drunk people start to yell at each other fist about to swing. Watching the bodyguard rush over to the people you take your only chance to get into the locker room. 

Stepping into the locker room there stands Sukuna and two other men in one in a towel and the other just naked. “Excuse me,” you say,  your eyes looking anywhere but at the naked white haired man also known as Gojo Satoru. At the sound of your voice Gojo grabs the nearest towel covering his bits, a blush dusting his pale skin. 

“This is the men’s locker room little lady,” the one with a scar adorning his lip, known as Toji Fushiguro, his voice in a teasing tone, Sukuna still standing there by his locker, his back facing you. “I know. I would like to speak to Ryomen Sukuna about the fight before all the other reporters beat me to it.” You snap back, standing tall and trying not to be intimidated by the man in front of you as the one with white hair rushes to find a pair of pants.  

“You don't need to speak to him sweetheart, you can speak to me. I'm a great speaker, I can show you just how great I am.” Toji flirts with you, completely ignoring you. Looking at the darked haired man, you clear your throat and step forward, determined to regain control of the situation. 

“I’m here for an interview, not a performance,” you say firmly, shooting Toji a quick, dismissive glance before turning your focus to Sukuna, who finally shifts his gaze toward you, his dark eyes that almost look red under a certain light; glinting with something smug and dangerous. 

“You’re bold,” Sukuna remarks, finally acknowledging your presence with a slow smirk. “Storming into the locker room like this. What’s your name, baby?” 

You keep your expression neutral, pulling out your notepad as you reply, “Just the reporter who wants your thoughts on tonight's match. Mind If we stick to the questions?” 

Sukuna chuckles lowly, running a towel over his sweat-damp hair. “Ah, come on. Don’t be so stiff. Aren’t you at least a little impressed?” He flexes subtly as if to emphasize the point, his gaze never leaving yours. “Heavyweight champion. Knockout victory. You sure you don’t want a different kind of interview?” 

You scribble something in your notepad without giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. “What was your strategy going into the final rounds?” you ask, voice even and professional. 

Sukuna tilts his head, clearly entertained by your resistance. “Straight to business, huh?” He steps a bit closer, lowering  his voice. “I like that. Bet you’re the type who doesn’t get distracted easily…but I wonder if I could change that.” 

You meet his gaze directly, unfazed. “I doubt it.” 

That earns you a bark of laughter from Sukuna. “Damn. You’re fun.” 

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” you reply curtly, jotting down his responses. “Now if we could focus, please. How did Naoya’s defense affect your pacing?”

Toji snickers from the side while Gojo, still clutching his towel, mumbles something about wishing he had popcorn for the show. But you stay locked in, professional though and through, determined to get the story—and nothing else.

And even as Sukuna keeps tossing you those cocky, flirtatious remarks, you make it clear through every clipped question and calm response: you’re here to work, and nothing is going to throw you off your game, even if it is a hot pink haired tattooed muscular man. 

Sukuna leans back against his locker, arms crossed over his chest, the smug grin never quite leaving his face as he watches you scribble notes. “You know, you’re the first reporter who hasn’t melted under my charm,” he says, voice dripping with amusement. “Kind of refreshing.”

You glance up briefly. “That’s because I’m here to do my job, not fall for a headline.” He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Cold. I like it.” 

“Back to the fight,” you press, ignoring the way his eyes linger on you a little too long. “You seemed to switch tactics halfway through the third round. Was that planned, or were you reacting to Naoya’s counters?”

Sukuna raises a brow, seemingly pleased you aren’t taking the bait. “Planned. Saw his weak spot early. Just had to wait for him to get cocky.”  You nod, jotting that down. “And what’s next for you? Any thoughts on your next opponent?” 

He shrugs, rolling his shoulders with ease. “Doesn’t really matter. They’ll fall just like the rest.” His gaze drifts back to you. “Unless you like to try your luck. I’ll go easy on you.” Toji snorts in the background “She’d probably land a punch before Naoya did.” 

You don’t even humor them with a smile. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fans lining up for that offer, Sukuna. But I prefer interviews over sparring.” 

“Shame,” he says with a wink. “But hey, if you ever change your mind… or want an exclusive one–on–one. You know where to find me.” You close your notepad with a soft snap, signaling the end of the conversation. “I’ll keep that in mind. For now, congratulations on the win. I appreciate your time.” 

Sukuna watches as you turn to leave, calling after you with a teasing lilt, “Don’t be a stranger, baby.” Without looking back, you reply coolly, “Not planning on it.” 

As you exit the locker room, you can still hear Gojo laughlin and Toji making some snide comment, but you pay no mind. The job was done, and not even Ryomen Sukuna’s charm could throw you off course.  But as you scroll through your notes, you can’t help but shake your head with a small smile. Boxers.

©Bella2025

[quixotickoi]

Knockout Round!!

boxer!sukuna x drummer!reader

Synopsis: You and Ryomen have never had the most cordial of relationships; however, something deep, deep inside your heart burned with a carnal desire to learn the landscape of his body. Your band sets you up for a dangerous rendezvous, and you learned a lot more than you thought you would.

Warnings: Implied sex, hickeys, biting, fingering

word count: 3.7k

------

The amps buzzed angrily, a deafening hornets’ nest of rage and defiance. The sound crackled out, leaving the faint rumble of inactive electricity. Yuji set his guitar against his amp, wringing his hands out. Maki rolled her shoulders out, and you set down your drumsticks. In front of you three, on the couch in the basement of Gojo Hall, Choso had set up a camcorder; Nobara was typing away intently on her phone, and Megumi was playing something on his raggedy PC. Even with his disgustingly loaded godfather, he never let that go. 

“Kamo, cut that,” said Maki. She tweaked her tuning pegs, frowning slightly.

“I thought you sounded good.” shrugged Choso. “Guess I don’t have the ear.” Megumi frowned at the computer, then at the man next to him.

“They sounded like a swamp. I couldn’t hear the bass from the guitar.”

“Hey!” Yuji shouted indignantly. “If Soundgarden did it, why can’t we?”

“You think you’re Chris Cornell?” 

“I assume you think you’re Pharrell; even your producer tag does the beat thing.” 

You and Maki exchanged glances at their bickering. Exasperatedly, you threw a drumstick at Yuji’s head; it bounced off before hitting the ground with a thunk. Nobara looked up, giggling behind her phone as Yuji threw it back ferociously. Catching it, you twirl it in your limber fingers. “We have to get our shit together, guys. It’s not our first gig, but it’s gonna be our last if Yuji won’t start singing worth a damn.”

“I’d like to see you try playing an instrument and singing at the same time.”

“Drums are actually hard, Yuji. Ya gotta use a thing called skill.”

“Didn’t know you used it. Our drumlines are so impossibly easy a million monkeys could do them by accident.” He messed with his dials, strumming over any retaliation. “Besides, we play in a week or so. We’ll have it down by then.”

“We could always play something old,” volunteered Maki. “It’s not like we’re popular enough to get people wanting more.”

“I’ll have you know a girl stopped me to tell me she knows our band!” said Yuji indignantly. 

“Likely from the ear-shattering music under the basement. I doubt she can tell us from the other bands that practice here.” Maki unplugged her bass, packing it into her coffin case, along with her pedal and wire. “I have to go now. Phys project in the works.” She shuffled up the stairs, strong-arming her bass on the way up. The door creaked behind her slightly. You stuffed your drumsticks in a ridiculously large pocket, stretching out your back. Yuji looked mildly disappointed. Smiling sympathetically, you help Nobara off the couch, and Choso turns off the camcorder.

“It’s, like, 2 A.M. right now,” Nobara mentioned callously. She had come with a full face and now was leaving fresh-faced, if you don’t count the smudging on her cheeks. “We should turn in anyway. Lord knows the dark circles I’m getting from these late nights.” She faked a yawn before resting her cheek on your shoulder, stroking your waist tenderly.

“You don’t even have to be here,” Megumi blurted, still working furiously. “All you do is use your TikTok and eat our DoorDash.” He slammed his computer down, to which it protested.

“I’m just here to steal some fame for when you guys get popular or whatever,” she smirked. “And it’s worth it for a chance to see Papa Fushiguro.” Megumi groaned. “Ain’t that right?” She tapped your cheek. Grinning, you look away.

“He is double our age. And then some.”

“Speak for yourself,” you snark.

“You’re barely a year older than us.” Megumi stuffed his computer in his backpack, stalking toward the door. “You guys comin’?” You shake your head at him. Grabbing your keys from your jacket pocket, you dangle them off your middle finger while Nobara follows you out. Choso and Yuji hang back, getting ready to go home on their own.

“If you’re going to be in a bitch mood,” The three of you walk toward your SUV. “At least get your license. Nothing more pathetic than waiting for the person you’re mad at.” You drive off-campus and into town, the path to Megumi’s shared apartment with his father clear in your mind. You park down the street, accompanying him, along with Nobara, to Room 408. 

Knocking on the door, Mr. Toji Fushiguro scans the three college kids at his doorstep. He had no shirt on and looked like he could barely keep his eyes open. “There’s my son,” he says groggily, yanking Megumi by the shoulder back into his apartment. Grunting his gratitude, he closes the door. On the way back to the car, Nobara is fully awake, fully excited. 

“Ugh, he wears being a hobo so well. It’s kinda insane he’s still single. Guess he still loves his wife,” she blurts when you start the engine. “All that man gotta be in there somewhere, waiting for me to find it. Do you think Megumi would be mad if I hooked up with his dad?”

You chuckled, gazing at the blurry lights in front of you. Blinking again, you persevere through the tiredness. Nobara’s now talking on the phone, tapping your shoulder. “Huh?”

“Choso’s car got towed. D’you think we can give them a ride?” she said. Apologetically, she added, “I know you’re tired, but I doubt you want them paying a 60 dollar Über at 3 A.M.” 

“It’s fine, I guess. But they owe me big time.” Turning around, you return to the barren parking lot by Gojo Hall. Choso and Yuji ran toward your car; more accurately, to your headlights. Inside they squeezed next to Nobara, and Yuji began his yammering about the towing.

“I swear Choso parked right! We don’t even know why it was towed. Sure, he sucks at parallel parking,” Choso coughed indignantly. “But that can’t be illegal, right? He didn’t even park in disabled parking or anything, they just took it!” He peered through the gap between the passenger seat and its headrest. “By the way, we need to get Ryomen.”

“Is his car towed too?”

“Nah, in the shop.” Yuji shrugged. “He loves his fender benders. Shocking, for a guy who loves his car more than his family.”

“I think he moonlights as a drag racer,” Choso added. You smiled despite the tiredness. “Also, I’ve sent you the address for where he told me he’d be. Chances are it’s a seedy ass place.” You followed the GPS instructions, passing by a handful of smoke shops, a nightclub, and a crowd of foul-smelling people, all clad in thick clothes, however unidentifiable they were from the darkness and the smog surrounding them. The GPS stopped in front of a stairwell, leading to whatever Sukuna partook in at night.

“Where is he?” you scanned the front, but no hulking, pink-haired man showed. “Can’t you text him or something?”

“Sukuna responds half a year later; we gotta find him ourselves.” 

“Nose goes!” shouted Yuji; he and Nobara held their nose, Choso following suit. You frowned at him. “Sorry babe, too slow.” he jested. You turned to Choso directly behind you, pleading silently.

“I’ll go with you, don’t worry about it.” Smiling gratefully, you hopped out of the car, with the help of Choso, who trailed behind you when you trodded down the stairwell. 

Inside, a rudimentary boxing ring surrounded by all kinds of people carrying drinks or doobies overwhelmed your senses. In the ring, a fight was well on its way to its conclusion; in one corner, a man with a zigzagging pattern in his hair sat, receiving water and getting patted down by an older man you assumed to be his coach. The other corner, the one facing the entrance, facing you, held Ryomen, or “Sukuna” in the circles he ran in. His onyx irises locked onto you, but by the time they had, you were talking to Choso. You didn’t particularly care for boxing, preferring the equally, if not more, chaotic world of underground music.

Choso bent his head down to your ear. “I think I see some friends; get me back when Ryomen’s all done.” Your eyes widened in response.

“The fuck? Choso, no. I don’t know anyone here!” But by then, he had moseyed his way toward a group of men, all tattooed and pierced. You were no stranger to the hardcore, but you preferred the stage, where the distance felt safer. While as a teen, you indulged in the scene, you never liked the people that it came with. You watched the people around you talk, receiving a couple inquisitive looks in response. No doubt you looked out of place; the conservative manner in which you bundled yourself up lended no air of confidence. 

Tentatively, you stepped through the crowd to sidle up to the boxing ring, where Ryomen and his opponent had resumed their fight. A rivulet of blood carved its way down his temple, and his opponent had a bruise blossoming on his eye. Next to you, a wave of men chanted, “S’kuna! S’kuna! S’kuna!” while booing at the other man’s jabs. Fascinated, you watched the men tussle, before you felt a hand slither around your shoulder. A man, sporting a hockey jersey and a row of ear piercings, leered at you.

“Have I seen you here before?” he smiled, barely concealing his sliminess. Stiffly, you tried to escape his grasp, which only became more vicelike the more you struggled. “Aw, hey, don’t be like that,” His scolding read like a veiled threat. A woman in front of you looked at you, sparing a glance at the man who closely resembled a deshelled hermit crab. Turning around, she pulled the man off you.

“I’m gonna need you to let her go, kid.” she warned. In the ring, meanwhile, Ryomen had totaled his opponent, earning a shout of glee from the supporting crowd. The harasser scampered off, and the woman smiled at you before turning to cheer at Ryomen.

 After the ref had confirmed the K.O, he raised Ryomen’s arm in triumph. Cajoling filled the stuffy room, and you scanned the state his body was in. His thick waist and chest heaved, bare and glistening. He tied his boxer shorts low, leaving the slightest prick of hair visible. His meaty thighs and calves flexed to support the sheer mass Ryomen boasted. When you had quite finished ogling the body of your bandmate’s older brother, his handsome, fear-inducing face was the dessert that crowned your eyes’ meal. His long, surprisingly straight nose and furrowed, bushy eyebrows gave him the appearance of a bird of prey. His cheekbones, while high-set, were still filled out with fat, preventing a skeletal appearance. His lips, while not plump, were full and parted by his maroon mouthguard, glistening with sweat. His eyes glowed in the flickering light, while still absorbing the energy around them, as if his gaze was an inescapable black hole.

You barely registered that those eyes were boring into you while you essentially feasted upon him with a desirous gaze. His head tilted up, and then you saw the warlike mind which consumed his being, which was reaching toward you with a need to conquer, to take. Even when he stopped to be led to the locker room, you felt his want burn your stomach, and you felt the unquestionable desire to vomit. But still, you trailed after him, along with his other fans. You fiddled with your phone, when Yuji had called you, asking when he would finish up. You sighed, told him five more minutes, and waited for Ryomen’s reemergence. 

When he came back, he clutched an envelope and towel around his neck, along with a duffle bag. He stopped in front of you, surveying you with an unreadable expression. “All alone, are we?” he grinned, and his oddly sharp canines winked at you. Your mouth immediately felt like it was stuffed with cotton.  “It’s rare to see you so scared, girl.” he teased. “You my driver?”

Behind you, Choso leaned an arm on your head. “Hey…Ryomen.” He gave him a dap before steering you to the exit/entrance. “We’re taking you home.”

“Sweet.” He pushed past you, dragging his shoulder deliberately. This somehow shook you out of your trance, and you tramped in front of them, trying not to appear as vulnerable as you felt.

In the car, Ryomen had parked his ass in the passenger seat before you could say a word about it. “Smelly hoes stay in the back, Ryomen.”

“Sukuna to you, baby.”

“Suck-on-a my dick.” you bit. Swerving off the avenue, you stopped at the Itadori brothers’ complex. All three hopped out; rather, Choso dragged a sleeping Yuji and hoisted him over his shoulder along with his guitar, and Ryomen hauled his gear and gloves to their home. With a parting grin, he slammed the car door shut. Nobara had fallen asleep in the backseat as well, and you silently drove home, snapping her awake to get inside.

***

We’re meeting at my house for a band meeting today :DD show up by 5pm pls and thank youuu.  Your phone buzzed as Yuji texted. It was Saturday morning, and you had barely opened your crusted-over eyes a quarter past two. Rays of late winter sunshine seared into your eyes; you didn’t even get under your covers, opting instead to scrunch the neatly laid out blankets between your fingers. Groggily, you peeled your eyes open and clambered to the kitchen, where Nobara had written a note: At mall. You toss it back on the counter and make yourself a late breakfast: two eggs and a slice of gouda in a bread roll. Squinting again, you checked your microwave clock.

 As you blinked, the two morphed into a five. It was 5:30? Shit! You cursed as you ran to your bathroom, quickly rubbing your full-body deodorant over yourself. You splashed your face with water before tugging on a bra you didn’t even look at and the first pair of panties you found in your drawers. A slip of your jeans past your hips, a tug of your shirt over your neck, and a slide into your slides led you out the door and speeding toward the Itadori brothers’ (and Choso’s) apartment. You chewed gum ravenously on your way there; you’d be damned if you let morning breath near your bandmates. You reached under the cactus that had the spare key for the home. Barging in, you braced yourself for the welcoming, although teasing yells. 

Instead, you saw a vacant couch, loveseat, and ottoman. The kitchen held no rumble of life, and everything was less sloppy than usual. Furiously, you text the group. Sorry!! Went to get food, hope you dont mind :P -Yuji. It’s not OUR fault you were late -Maki. Muttering indignancies under your breath, you plop onto the couch, picking at your nail beds. You felt bad for missing the time, but you were so tired from last night. Who’s even up that late, anyway? The 15-hour nap was well-needed. During the weekdays, you spent late nights trying to squeeze in band practice and the elephant-sized pile of work that graced your cheap IKEA desk. A lady needs her sleep, after all, and moonlighting (daylighting?) as a raccoon did nothing to help your confidence.

Sighing, you traipsed to the kitchen, doubting if the gang would bring you something to eat. While Nobara was usually your saving grace, she was off spending her next findom scheme victim’s couple grand. The fridge was unsurprisingly chock-full of leftovers; an old box of half-eaten chow mein, a lone bag of fries, cold pizza…a bum’s heaven. You doubted any actual ingredients existed in the house. The brothers cooked on occasion, likely so infrequently that they could run out of flour and not bat an eye. You settle for the chow mein, knowing you didn’t give a rat’s ass if it was Choso’s or Yuji’s. They frequently raided your fridge anyway. No, it was Ryomen you were worried about. However, a 66% chance of it not being his was all you cared about. Tossing it in the microwave for half a minute, you poured yourself a glass of water before standing at the counter, twirling the saucy noodles between the fork prongs. The chow mein wasn’t particularly hot, but it was suitable.

Behind you, a man loomed in the kitchen entryway. All six and a half feet of him. You ate happily, until you turned to see the presence you dreaded most. Swallowing thickly, you set the takeout down, hiding it from view. Ryomen stared you down, his heartstopping eyes pierced straight through yours and slid their effect through your body, straight to your stomach. You felt it drop, and your grip on the floor slid. His lip curled when he saw your eyebrows knit together in cowardice, before you shakily regain your composure. “You surprised me,” you blurted. 

“Likewise.” He motioned to the living room behind him. “Where’re your little friends?” Ryomen stepped closer; you stepped away. You tried not to gaze at the strong arm that pushed an island chair out of his way; the loose tee he wore did next to nothing to hide the contours of his bicep. He looked past you, at the opened chow mein container.

“They’re on their way here,” you bluffed; in actuality, you had no idea when they’d end their little excursion. Ryomen tilted his head in mockery. He had been inching closer every second, and he had finally gotten within arm’s reach. You, on the other hand, had nowhere else to go, unless you desired to become one with the countertop. “They’re getting food,” you muttered. The enclosing space made your stomach fall to the floor, surprisingly managing to be more anxious than you thought the human body could survive. Ryomen’s eyes gleamed predatorily; he had dreamt of cornering your cowering body. In a swift motion, he hooked a thick-knuckled finger through your belt loop, whisking you into his body. With an oomph! you felt your brow ridge hit his collarbone.

“Is that so?” Ryomen leered. His smooth rumble let you know you were so fucked. “Then you’d care to explain where my food went, I assume.” His hand snaked around your waist, sliding up and feeling the curve of your spine. It reached your jaw, where he tilted your face up to meet his.

“I only had a bite or two,” you say, wriggling in his grasp. He held your head firm, grinning devilishly when he squeezed your cheeks. 

“I’ll take a ‘bite or two’ outta you.” His hand let your face go. “It’s only fair.”

“Bite my dick, Ryomen,” you sneer, enjoying your burst of egoism. “I doubt an overlarge slob like you knows the first thing about being with women.” For that one, he squeezed your ass hard. You refused to break the stoicism you set yourself to five minutes ago. 

“Oh, woman, you have no clue what's going to happen to you.”

“A dog-and-pony show and a failed orgasm, I suppose.” Your eyes narrow. Ryomen’s expression shifts into something dangerous, a desire so primal, so base.

“Your friends can’t save you now, doll.” With nary a deep breath, Ryomen hoists you over his shoulder, bearing your weight like a sandbag. He opens the door to his bedroom, unceremoniously flinging you onto his messy bed sheets. You land near its edge, and you can’t take a breath before he’s upon you like a whirlwind, ramming his lips into yours and shoving his hands under your shirt. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to keep up with Ryomen’s neediness. You backed up onto the bed, hurriedly followed by Ryomen. Screaming internally, you watch his trail of kisses slide from your lips to your cheek, down your neck, and straight to your collarbone. His eyes lock onto your t-shirt. 

You hear a seam, or four, tear as he wrests it off of you and onto the waiting floor. Ryomen scrutinizes the bra you barely registered choosing; lucky you, the brute liked the lacy detailing on the pearly fabric. However, it comes off, along with half of your dignity. Ryomen kneads your nipple between his fingers slyly, watching them harden from contact. Before you can blink, he returns to sucking on your neck, working an obscene hickey onto your nape. Sharp canines meet your shoulder blade as he bites down. Hard. Your groan of pleasure gives him leeway to taunt you.

“Am I not a slob?” He ruts his clothed, extremely painful boner into your crotch. “Wasn’t I so unskilled? Answer me woman, or are you dumb from a little kiss?” Ryomen’s voice strained. You whimper and grab at his hair, tugging the black roots. Grinding and sucking his way down,  His starving demeanor sent a shot of pleasure through your veins. Oh, you were so fucked.

***

It hadn’t been more than a few hours. Ryomen, who you regrettably called Sukuna (while being fingered into oblivion), was dozing away on top of you, a comforting weight. The analog clock above his door frame read 7:38. Struggling, you push off him and hobble down to the living room, hastily putting on the first pair of pants you saw and your shirt; you had no clue how incredibly disheveled you looked, so covered in blotchy red hickeys and nail marks you appeared to have been pelted with overripe cherries. What a sight it was, then, when you ran into Yuji and Choso lounging in their own home.

“I always took him as a rough guy, but jeez. I’m surprised you got away,” Choso said between bites of his chicken wing. Blearily, you grunt an idea of a retort before stealing a wing. “Glad I didn’t have to hear the…yeah,” he finished lamely as you ate.

“Whuh? Choso,” you mumbled, mouth full. “Y’all knew?”

They both looked incredibly guilty. 

Right then, Ryomen walked in behind you, in his boxers. Before you asked where his pants were, you looked at yours, realizing they were hanging off your hips; you should’ve noticed when the fabric dragged against your ankle as you navigated the apartment. “Got any left for me? I’ve just been,” he glanced your way cheekily. “...exercising.” 

[sugurusdiscordmoderator]

what kind of underwear the jjk men wear

MDNI 18+

cw: weiners

Toji

wears the gymshark boxers because he claims they are the only ones that actually fit him because “he’s blessed with a nice package” as he puts it. He has some others stuffed in the back of the underwear drawer but he doesn’t wear them.

Nanami

Specifically the briefs of Calvin Klein. And god, do they look great on him. Mainly has them in blue & black but a few white pairs. Gives you a mean side eye if you call them “tighty whities”. Literally all he owns, if he’s not wearing them he’s not wearing underwear at all under his sweatpants or PJ pants.

Gojo

Literally has the goofiest boxers, from Old Navy and American Eagle. He likes to “express himself” that way since he wears the same uniform nearly every day.

Geto

None. Well let’s be honest, he doesn’t wear them a lot because his penis is so massive he wears baggy pants and thinks he can get away with it. When he does wear undies it’s always one’s you buy him. He thinks it’s adorable when you get the matching sets off meundies

Sukuna

literally wears old man boxers sorry not sorry. He can’t be bothered with shit like this, he’s going to ruin you either way, and will be especially hard on you if you say some shit about them 💀

[epickiya722]

I'm actually not surprised reading that Sukuna was not giving it his all. It's Sukuna, of course, he wouldn't. He's an evil dude. He toys with people.

Why in the hell would he give it his all... at all?

He'll praise you, he'll recognize your strength. But at the end of the day, he's just looking for some entertainment.

[sukunasweetheart]

I saw you retweet that underground ring fighter sukuna fic and I'd just like to say Tainted by cxmplexity is really, really good and is about boxing

I KNOWWW THAT FIC TOOOOOO BROO im pretty sure i reblogged the fic here once before?? not 100% tho i dont remember, but YESSS that shit was so good

i found it way back before i started this blog and became a writer myself!!! and im still following them *sobs*

[miiyas]

having a boxer sukuna brainrot .. ooo i love him

[peachsayshi]

I have a question regarding the king, how did the press react to him retiring?

fic: the king (boxer!Sukuna x reader)

They are shocked. Sukuna is sitting at the peak of his career right now. He is the hottest and biggest sports star. He won a fight that ensured he remained undefeated.

He decides to make an announcement with Uruame. After much debate they both agree to release it on all his public social accounts instead of doing it live. Sukuna thanks his fans and supporters, before proceeding to say that he’s retiring. He knows he’s had an incredible career, and doesn’t shy away from boasting about it a little.

Somewhere in a training room, Satoru and his manager, Suguru, are standing with their eyes glued to their phone. Ryomen Sukuna takes them both by surprise when he says: “I’m glad my last fight was with a worthy opponent. Satoru Gojo has a strong future ahead of him”.

Sukuna has to face the press afterwards much to his dismay. There are interviews upon interviews, and they are fighting one another to get the exclusive details behind his retirement. They all hound him with questions, but also push a narrative like they are trying to convince him to stay, that it only matters if he’s the one fighting in the ring.

But Sukuna doesn’t give a shit. If anything watching the media/press flip into adoring him once more only makes him feel more secure about his decision.

The same people who accused of him of cheating, the same ones who fueled the fire that he was disloyal in his relationship, are now singing his praises. And that’s why, the only thing he’s conscious of during this time is you.

The last thing he wants is for press to pry into his personal life and use you as the fall guy. To pin point a villain somewhere and to turn his choice of love as the scapegoat to why he is giving up such a brilliant career.

[kiyoomiee]

part one. part two. part three. part four.

boxer!sukuna who’s pining after you for over a year now. This man would constantly cross the lines and push any boundaries you set just so you could spare him one date. He doesn’t mind the chase, it only makes him want you more.

boxer!sukuna can’t take his eyes off of you during the company’s year-end party at the bar. His eyes were eating up the outfit you wore. The dress hung perfectly on your curves. He’s dying for a touch.

He’s on his sixth drink now, he’s tipsy for sure. You two were left alone in the VIP booth, while everyone partied on the dance floor. His arm rested on the back of your seat, fingers ghosting over your shoulder as he watched you drink your tequila shot.

You frowned at him when he stole the lemon you were holding. He smirked and raised his brow, silently daring you to take it from his fingers.

What he doesn’t realize was, you too had too many shots now and were high on liquid courage. Never breaking eye contact with him, you didn’t hesitate to move closer and suck on the fruit from his hold.

Fucking hell, you little minx. He bit his lower lip to suppress a groan.

His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips. You gasped when you felt his hot tongue licking upwards from your chin up to the side of your lips, savoring the lemon juice that dripped.

“Sukuna” You called him softly.

“Yeah, baby?” His half-lidded eyes stared back at you.

“I should punch you for that.”

He chuckled, your pouting lips only invites him more.

“A woman after my own heart.”

boxer!sukuna who possessively wraps his arm on the back of your thigh to pull you closer when he noticed Toji Fushiguro staring at you curiously. Toji, his sparring partner for today, was curious about the lady doctor that Sukuna was so obsessed with.

“Stop staring Toji, she’s mine.” He glared at the man from across the ring.

“‘m not yours Sukuna.”

“Could’ve fooled me baby, you’re wrapping bandage on my hand like a wife would do.”

“I literally do this for other players too.”

“Hmm.” Was all he replied, he was busy staring at your face. You rolled your eyes at him when you noticed.

“You’re so beautiful doc, wanna go out with me?” Your hands stopped for a moment, he didn’t miss the blush creeping up your face.

He’s been asking you for a date relentlessly over the past year. Maybe this time you’ll finally give in.

“When you win the championship this season, maybe I’ll say yes.” You say, avoiding his eyes as you finished wrapping up his hands.

Sukuna was stunned, he didn’t expect you’d say yes after rejecting him so many times.

“Fuck me. Fushiguro! You heard that? She finally agreed to be my woman!”

“Yeah I think you have a hearing problem, you lovesick fool.”

“He’s right. Selective hearing can damage your brain Sukuna. You aren’t even champion yet.”

You stated, but he doesn’t care. All Sukuna heard was that he finally has the chance to make you his (wife) girlfriend.

“I promise you, that belt will be my consolation prize. I’m coming home with you as my trophy.”

[solrabi]

Pro-Boxer!Sukuna could barely hear the crowd clamoring over his win. The blood rushing in his head muted everything because in a matter of moments, he was going to get what he was waiting for most—a kiss from you.

You, who was standing right outside the ring, next to his coach, were frozen in place. You weren’t even sure why you drove all the way to the opposite end of the city to see him. He was only just someone you’d randomly meet and coyly flirt with.

Your teeth ground as you saw him stalk to you, all bloody and bruised. He lifted the ropes and extended a hand. Everyone’s eyes were trained on him, confused. But that didn’t stop them from cheering when you meekly put your hand in his bandaged one before hoisting yourself up on the platform.

All devouring red eyes raking down your face to your lips. His pupils grew larger as he noticed they were all chewed up. Good; you were nervous. He had been staring at you all night like that—every time he’d take his mouth guard out to rinse his bloody mouth, whenever he’d sip water, or whenever he’d land a particularly robust punch; almost like he was showing off. The athlete equivalent of a mating ritual.

You felt small under his gaze. You knew you were the object of his affections, but to be treated like one in front of the world was… exhilarating. You wouldn’t call yourself a voyeur, but the pit of your stomach fluttered when he curled his sweaty, muscular arm around your waist as he threw away his mouth guard from his other one—something about a man showing the world that nobody other than the person he loved mattered to him.

“Still don’t wanna be mine?” His lips were mere inches from yours, metallic breath hitting your chin. The roaring cheers of the crowd only got more intense with every moment. A couple spectators began chanting “kiss, kiss!”

Your tongue was dry and your voice was stuck in your throat. Dumbfounded.

“You promised me that if I won this match then I’d get a kiss. Why’re you getting all shy with me now?”

He was right. It was only right to uphold your end of the deal. With trembling arms, your joined your hands around his thick neck and closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

The last thing you heard was a chuckle before tasting light traces of blood and Sukuna’s hot tongue. His teeth clashed against yours out of sheer eagerness and you gasped. His arms tightened around you even more before leaving one last peck on your lips.

“Better than any trophy,” he whispered in your ear.

———

in other words: your situationship with Sukuna finally turns into something serious.

yes, I have a masterlist.

[bellabean24]

✩ Boxer!Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reporter!Reader

✩ Word Count: 544

✩ Tags: SFW, first person POV, the article the reader had wrote, I have read one to many Mike Tyson and Muhammad Ali articles to get this right my brain hurts 😩, comment to be added to tag list

✩ Synopsis: You finally published your article

✩ Boxer!Ryomen Sukuna M.List | Jujutsu Kaisen M.List

Sports Magazine 

Ryomen Sukuna: The King of the Ring. Boxing’s Most Dangerous Man or Its Biggest Problem?

By: Y/N  L/N

March 12th 12:22 am

There are fighters, there are champions, and then there’s Ryomen Sukuna—an athlete so dominant and aggressive in the ring that he has become both a sensation and utterly unbothered by the criticism surrounding him, Sukuna has built his career on destruction. With each fight, he adds another name to his KO’s list, and yet, despite his success, the conversation around him remains divided; but mostly praises are among him. 

Is he a once—in—a—generation fighter? Like Masamichi Yaga. Or just a brute force riding a wave of power until he finally meets someone who can break him?

A Fighter Who Doesn’t Play By the Rules

Sukuna doesn’t just win fights—he ends them. His style of fighting is raw, aggressive, and unforgiving (to some people); relying on sheer strength and an almost inhuman ability to take a punch. Some call it reckless, others call it brilliant. He calls it lightwork. 

“People like to overcomplicate boxing,���  Sukuna once told me during our interview, leaning back in his chair with the kind of arrogance that makes you want to punch him in the face, even though you know your punch won’t land. “At the end of the day, the guy that hits harder wins. And no one hits harder than me.” Arrogance! 

It’s hard to dispute that. His knockout ratio is phenomenal, his fights rarely last five rounds, and so far, no one has found a way to stop him. But while his fans admire his brutal efficiency, critics say his brawler mentality lacks the technical skill needed for true longevity in the sport. 

An Ego as Big as His Punch 

Sukuna is a fighter who thrives on confidence—so much so that it often borders on infuriating. He knows he’s good; amazing even, and he doesn’t shy away from reminding people of it, whether it’s in the ring, during press conferences, or in interviews where he spends more time flirting than answering questions. 

“Be honest,” he smirked at me halfway through our conversation, “You came here expecting to be impressed.” 

I informed him that I was here to do my job, not to admire his charm. He laughed in my face, unconvinced. Arrogance. That’s the thing about Sukuna—he’s convinced he’s already won, no matter what game he is playing. 

The Unstoppable Force…Until He’s Not? 

For all his power and dominance, the question lingers: what happens when Sukuna finally meets an opponent who won’t crumble under his power? Some argue that his reliance on brute strength will be his downfall. Others believe he’s just getting started. 

His next fight is rumored to be against a veteran known for his technical precision, who came out of retirement just to beat him. This might be the challenge he needs to silence the doubters—or prove them right. 

When I asked him if he was worried, or scared that someone might eventually beat him; he only grinned. “Worried? Sweetheart, I feel bad for the guy. He’s stepping in the ring with me.”  Delusional. 

Love him or hate him, who cares, one thing is perfectly clear: Ryomen Sukuna isn’t just fighting opponents—he’s fighting the entire sports expectations. And, for now, he’s winning

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@emoedgylord

©Bella2025

[aomiiine]

wondering why crossover fics r rarely talked ab