₊ ⊹ . ݁ THE KING ₊ ⊹ .
(boxer!sukuna x reader)
⊹ tags: ryomen sukuna x female reader; childhood friends; character mentions: uraume - satoru gojo; unresolved tension; sukuna is oh so in love; fluffy but a mix of angst/smut/fluff; domestic; non curse au; p in v sex; unprotected sex; dry humping; making out; oral sex;
:about: you've known sukuna before he was a world boxing champion, when he was just a scrawny kid who used to hide behind your legs when you were both in kindergarten. sukuna is growing tired of the fame and fortune, and all he really wants is to fall into the arms of the one person who he's always considered his home.
this fic is one shot. I'll happily answer any lore questions regarding boxer!sukuna x reader, but there will not be a part two or more parts of their story. It is a standalone.
wc: 19K+
Sukuna steps out of the shower, his body wound up in a tight coil after the night's fight. He presses the bridge of his nose together to relieve his throbbing head, but his brow is searing with pain. When he opens his eyes he catches a reflection of his self in the bathroom mirror- a split on his bottom lip, a cut on the arch of his right eyebrow and a slight bruise on his left cheek.
It's rare for him to look this battered after a match.
He's been untouchable for years, he's almost forgotten what it's like to take a few good hits in the ring.
"Do you want to talk about what happened?"
His eyes flicker up toward Uraume, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere.
He shakes his head at his manager. "Nothing happened, I won. Isn't that a good thing?"
Uraume narrows their gaze, sharp like a sly little fox. They can read Sukuna like a book, but Sukuna chooses to play ignorant and brushes off their knowing stare.
He knows that the inquisition isn't about the sponsors, the money, or the win.
He also knows that Uraume never asks questions that they don’t know the possible answer to.
Thankfully, his manager just sighs.
"The limo is outside waiting to take you to the party," they state, their heavy exhale indicating that they know Sukuna won't own up to what they are trying to prod out of him.
"Fuck," Sukuna grumbles. The towel hangs low on his hips, and he throws the one that is around his neck onto the ground. He steps outside to the locker room and proceeds to change. He dries off, puts on his boxers and picks up his black t-shirt before pulling it over his bare chest marked with ink. He then tugs on his jeans, and secures his belt around the waist. "Do I have to go to that?"
Uraume shrugs, "Don't you want to parade your big victory over Satoru Gojo to the rest of the world?" his manager adds, slipping both hands into their pocket as they stride casually toward Sukuna who is merely trying to gather the rest of his things.
The last touch is his signature silver chain necklace. He hooks the accessory around his neck, while mentally preparing himself for the crowd waiting for him outside. For the voices that would be screaming out his name, and the obnoxious paparazzi who can't seem to grasp the concept of personal space.
They all gawk at him like he's a endangered animal at the zoo.
His chest seizes at the thought.
He used to gloat over being in the spotlight. He took to stardom with an extreme sense of pride, but the thought of it right now just makes his skin crawl uncomfortably.
The only thing that Ryomen Sukuna wanted at this very moment, is to go home in fucking peace.
He’s given the fans and the world what they wanted.
"Little shit got what was coming to him," he blurts out in response to Uraume. "It'll take him a while to lick his wounds and get over his broken pride..."
Uraume chuckles, "and I was worried that he might have actually had an advantage over you..."
Sukuna swallows the sudden lump in his throat.
God he was fucking tired. His whole body is aching, begging him to get some much needed rest. He hadn’t trained this hard in a long time. The strict diet, the isolation, the strenuous days in the gym and in the training ring slowly started filtering into him in doses.
"Almost," he admits quietly, a little bitter over the reality of the situation that he was close to losing. "He's good for his age. Really good actually."
Uraume's face falls at that. "You don't sound like yourself, my king," they tease half-heartedly, addressing Sukuna by yet another title which he earned in the ring.
"The King", "The Beast", “The Champ”, “Monster of The Ring”…
There was a time when he was younger, when the fire for the fight burned inside him with such intense conviction, that he found dignity in the titles that he's earned from every match. The thrilling sensation of him standing in the middle of the ring, his hands raised with victorious joy as he looked down at his opponent while the crowd would cheer for him like he was a figure of the divine, used to mean a great deal to him.
But those titles feel…hollow. An old skin which Sukuna unknowingly shrugged off without even realizing it.
"I'm just exhausted," he breathes with a hint of frustration, giving Uraume a reply after allowing his mind to drift for a few seconds. "I've got a raging headache and my shoulder is killing me."
He slings his bag over his good arm, before turning to face his manager.
The pair walk down towards the end of the hallway, and Sukuna can already hear the muffled voices from the press that have slowly gathered inside. He elongates his spine naturally as he holds a domineering pose. He quietly huffs out a breath and tries to steady the uneasiness coursing through his veins. The second the press lay their eyes on him, they stampede towards Sukuna like dogs off their leash. A flash of white and blue flickers around him, disorienting him for a single moment.
"Hey, champ! How does it feel to knock out Satoru Gojo after everything he said this season?"
"Way to prove that you're still The Beast of the Ring! What's next for our King?"
"You've held your championship title for ten consecutive years! How do you go up from here?"
"Sukuna! Sukuna! Is it true that you've just locked in a multi-million dollar deal with Nike?"
Uraume steadies the crowd, protectively standing in front of Sukuna as they gesture everyone to calm down.
Despite the sheer difference in their size, Uraume has a natural way of commanding a room.
That's one thing Sukuna has always been grateful for regarding his manager; Uraume always looked out for his best interest first.
"Hello, everyone," they politely speak, their voice calm and pleasant. "While we appreciate the enthusiasm; our champion, Ryomen Sukuna, will only be making a single statement. He's had a long night and needs his rest," they announce, before looking over their shoulder and giving Sukuna a nod of approval to say what he needs to say.
The man is thankful for Uraume every single day. He already informed them earlier that he wasn't interested in any post-match interview or conversations with the press, and Uraume happily obliged by accepting the privacy that he desperately needed.
Sukuna tightens his grip around the gym bag over his shoulder. He stares at the small audience before him before clearing his throat to speak. "Young fighters like to run their mouth. I know because I used to be one of them. It's easy to be all bark and no bite. But in my case, I came out teeth first-" he states with a patronizing tone, noticing the press eagerly hang onto his every word and even laughing at his snide remark.
They are waiting for a brutal comment from the badass himself, for him to add the cherry on top of all the shit-talk he’s already dished out.
But Sukuna acknowledges that there is no place for it now.
He doesn't need to add more to the hurt he's already caused to Satoru Gojo.
Everything was settled in the ring, and now it was over.
"However, I have to admit that this was one of the best fights of my career. I had fun. He's been a thorn by my side but I respect Satoru, and I know he has a brilliant career on the horizon. That's all I have to say about that for now. Have a good night."
He steps away from the press, who trail at his feet like a pack of rats rattling off question after question as Uraume tries to console their demands. His manager delays their footing, all the while Sukuna finds the rest of his entourage at the arena exit.
A string of bodyguards help him get through the second crowd of loyal fans who have gathered. They are waving phones in the air, begging for photos and videos. Sukuna obliges with a few, trying his best to fight off the shakes that's starting to make his hand tremble slightly. People lift up their shirts, flash their cleavage and pull out posters, bras and clothes for him to sign. He does so, his signature faltering from a clean string of letters to a fast doodle of his name. His fans offer him flowers, art, and mementos which he takes, and whatever extra he can't carry he hands off to one of his guards. When he's finally had enough of giving himself to the fans, he bids everyone a wave as his bodyguards escort him to the private parking lot in the back of the arena.
Sukuna doesn't even realize how hard his heart had started hammering until he's embraced back into the quiet again. He feels incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin, and he isn't sure if it's the apprehension or the adrenaline wearing off from the fight. The phone in his pocket buzzes, probably Uraume wanting to make sure he's made it safely to his vehicle, but he can’t bring himself to answer the call.
"Sir," one of his bodyguards states, "There's a VIP who is expecting to see you..."
"So?" Sukuna scoffs, the black Mercedes in the distance a sanctuary. "I don't want to fucking see them."
"Well, you see, they insisted. They weren't taking no for an answer."
"And you would be shit at your job if you just let them roll over you like that," Sukuna begrudgingly replies.
Sukuna wasn't particularly fond of the VIP guest lists. A majority of them were people who wanted to fawn over him, or simply weasel their way into his pants. The other half were people with deeper pockets trying trying to bargain him into fixing fights so that they can win big bucks on their bets.
Sukuna did not have the time or patience for the latter, and even the former as well.
Especially tonight.
"Actually, Sir, she's waiting for you as we speak-" the bodyguard stammers, having to look up when he addresses Sukuna.
The champion stops abruptly to give him a puzzled stare and a piece of his mind over his bodyguard’s stupidity, but his attention is sharply drawn back to the car when he notices a figure step out of the Mercedes.
You're wearing a denim skirt, a fitted white top and a pair of black boots. Sukuna’s heart skips a beat, noticing that your hair looks a little different from when he last saw you. A sparkle of silver glitters on your neck that matches his own chain, and you beam at him with a bright smile that steadies his soul.
The click of your heels echo a little louder from the distance as you approach him, waving your fingers delicately in his direction to say your first hello. Sukuna's feet moves faster than the rest of him. He drops his bag off his shoulder, the gifts in his hands splay across the concrete ground and he scoops you up in his arms before spinning you in the air the second he wraps his arms around you.
You giggle at his greeting, your body trapped in a blanket of muscle and cologne. Your fingers thread between the strands of his red hair, tears pricking your eyes at the sight of your best and oldest friend.
Sukuna squeezes you tightly, "they should have just told me it was you by name," he exhales with a hint of annoyance, then carefully places you back down to rest your feet on the ground.
You laugh under your breath, "Don't worry, I gave them hell for it. I told them that I'm the only VIP who mattered considering I have been on that list the longest...."
You try to loosen your grip but Sukuna tenses up, so you ease back into his hug.
He didn’t want to let go just yet.
And truthfully, neither do you.
"Hi, princess," he whispers in your ear, his voice deep and thick with fatigue.
"Hey, 'kuna" you reply softly, your fingers curling around the back of his neck, as your heart beats heavily against his now relaxed chest.
₊ ⊹ .
The light from the car's backseat illuminates Sukuna's ruggedly handsome face. You cup his jaw between your fingers, and lightly trace your thumb over the cut on his swollen lip. Your eyes track upward and you wince at the gash across his brow.
"He got a few good hits on you didn't he?" you point out, not as a question necessarily but more as a statement of the obvious.
"A few good hits doesn't mean shit..."
"When was the last time you got hit this bad in the ring?" you press.
"I fight for a living, someone was bound to land a punch someday. Besides, it's not a concern. I had my good luck charm tonight without even knowing it..." he responds with a wolfish grin.
You jab him playfully in the chest. "You're not made of steel you know? You had me concerned for a second..."
"I roughed him up too," Sukuna states with a pout, "you're all acting like he walked away completely unscathed..."
He slings an arm over your shoulder, his strength pushing your body weight to lean closer against his side. You shake your head with disapproval as you press the button to switch off the light above you both.
The city moves past you in a haze, but you can't stop taking in the man before you.
Ryomen Sukuna.
The first time you met him was on the playground of your old kindergarten. You were all outdoors, and you noticed that these two bigger kids were knocking him around. The kindergarten teachers weren't anywhere to be seen. At the clear imbalance of power and with your sheer sense of goodwill, you decided to go over there and help.
Sukuna had just joined your class only three weeks before that. He was the smallest kid, and had a hard time keeping up with everyone else. Everyone made fun of him and called him "chili crisp" because of his hair. They teased him constantly for how he looked, how he dressed, and how he spoke and simply refused to play with him.
Being young and impressionable, you never engaged. But you didn't do anything to help Sukuna either. It made you ache seeing him treated this way, and this time you weren't just going to let it slide anymore.
Sukuna did nothing to deserve this treatment in the first place.
However, despite his small stature, Sukuna was a fighter even then.
He kept getting up even if it meant that he would just be shoved down once again.
You remember walking up to both those kids and grabbing them by the collar. You yanked them off, placing yourself in between them and Sukuna before scolding them both for their terrible behavior.
"I'm gonna tell!" you squealed with a furious point of your finger, threatening them with snitching words. "And if I ever see you hurt him, I'm going to make sure everyone knows how bad you are! And you’ll get into so much trouble with the teachers!”
You sharply kicked them both in their heels, and watched the kids scamper off, a little more intimidated now that someone they deemed as an equal threat entered the playing filed. Once they were gone, you turned toward Sukuna who was planted on the concrete ground. He was wiping away his snotty nose and trying to hide his tears.
You scratched the back of your head nervously, your throat all itchy and tight from the sight of him.
"You're-you're not a chili crisp," was all you could think of telling him in that moment. You gave him a small but kind smile, before offering him both your hands and helping him on his feet.
He was a whole head and shoulder shorter than you were back then. His clothes barely hung onto his body. He had to fix up his t-shirt and readjust his shorts.
"I know that," he answered with irritation, and a scowl that never seemed to have left him.
You assisted in brushing the dust off him.
"Your name is Ryo-men Su-ku-na?" you asked, breaking down the pronunciation of his name to make sure you said it correctly.
He nodded his head quietly.
You gave him another tender grin, and reached out for his hand before introducing yourself.
"I know who you are, I'm not stupid."
You frowned at his sharp response. "I never said you were."
The two of you stood there facing one another in awkward silence, unsure of how to proceed from the moment.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the next, kicking a random little rock on the ground. "Those kids are stupid."
"Yeah, they are." He grumbled through gritted teeth.
"So, if I'm not stupid and you're not stupid, why don't we be friends?"
Sukuna's eyes widened slightly at your words, like he couldn't believe what you said.
"Friends?"
"Yeah!" you squeaked with a little more excitement. "You'll have someone to sit next to and play with every day!"
He nervously gripped the hem of his tee.
He never gave you a real response, but the next day he showed up and took a seat right next to you in class.
You were both six years old, and have been insuperable ever since.
₊ ⊹ .
You press your cheek against his broad shoulder, and Sukuna sighs as his body melts into the leather seat underneath him. His hand gently rubs your own shoulder, with the two of you sitting in silence together as you have done many times before. He instructs the driver to take you both back to his penthouse, disregarding some after party that he's expected to attend.
At the call, your heart flutters with anticipation because it was a clear sign indicating that he wanted to be alone with you.
You shivered thinking of the last time that happened.
It's hard to believe that this version of Sukuna co-exists with the person you've known for a majority of your life.
The day after he sat next to you in kindergarten, everything changed for the better.
Sukuna still grimaced at everyone else, but kids no longer picked fights with him and he had a warming smile that was reserved for you alone.
Whether in class or outside of school, you both spent every spare moment that you could together. You were glued to the hip like two peas in a pod. Your parents adored him, doted on Sukuna despite him resisting their affection. It was only one night, when he was having yet another sleepover at your place, where you finally asked him how is he able to hang out with you all the time.
Sukuna revealed a truth that broke your heart entirely.
“Here is better than being home. Usually it's just me..."
"Just you?" you whispered innocently, "but your mom and dad?"
You watched him shrink into his blanket with uncertainty. "Don't know. I live with my Grandpa. He works a lot..."
It's only later in your life where you learnt the full story.
Sukuna’s parents abandoned him, leaving him with his grandfather to pursue reckless adventures together. At the time Sukuna was only three years old. His grandfather worked hard to provide for the boy, but he was an aging old man and didn’t expect to be responsible for such a young child. Sukuna's grandfather always showed deep gratitude to your parents for helping out and providing Sukuna with another safe space that gave him some much needed stress relief on his end.
His daughter eventually returned, in tow this time with Sukuna’s half brother Yuji. His dead beat dad was gone for good. But by then Sukuna was already fourteen.
He’s always had a complex relationship with his family, but things seem to be better with his brother. The two of them could pass off as identical twins, it was almost scary how alike they looked.
You loved Yuji; he was a living antithesis of his older brother. Always perky, smiling so bright it’s like the sun follows his footsteps.
Sukuna, on the other hand, carried the shadow and gloom of a waning moon.
Your childhood and early adolescent years were precious, cherished moments and memories that solidified the strength of your relationship. But despite everything, you were the only person who saw how bright Sukuna's own light could shine.
The driver finally parks the car in front of one of the most expensive buildings in Tokyo. Sukuna gets out first, and extends a hand into the vehicle to help grab yours. The touch sends tingles up your arm, but you do your best not to read into the reaction just yet.
The two of you enter the building, passing the security who simply tilts their head in acknowledgment, but from your peripheral vision you notice Sukuna’s eyes shifting around his environment.
“No cameras,” you reassure him with a squeeze to his bicep. “No paparazzi…”
Sukuna was aware of what he signed up for with fame, but that did not mean that you had to be subjected to the aggressive violation of privacy.
And after everything that happened, after the horrific clashing of both your worlds, he felt himself breathe a huge sigh of relief.
“They probably think I am showing up to the victory party,” he answered with gratitude.
The elevator rings, the doors opening as you both step inside.
Sukuna hits the button to the penthouse suite, and from the way his shoulders slump you can tell there is something off about his demeanor.
This isn’t the Ryomen you knew who walked away from a fight with the buzz of the winner.
He’s dimmed.
A bulb that’s flickering.
Something’s wrong, you thought, looping your arm around his and keeping your eyes on the numbers increasing as you swallow your concern.
₊ ⊹ .
Puberty didn’t hit Sukuna; it struck him like a brick over his head.
At sixteen years old, Sukuna was no longer the loser kid that everyone picked on. He was a tower, a watchful pillar that looked down on those around him with an intimidating stare. All of a sudden this scrawny boy shot up like a tree, his body springing into a new version of himself. His voice broke, dropping octaves lower than the soft tone of what it used to be. His shoulders broadened, lean muscle forming since he spent most of his time wrestling and boxing.
He became the bad boy that everyone blushed and fawned over.
The athlete that people admired.
His coaches loved him - called him a prodigy, and a star of the future.
Sukuna carried himself with plenty of self respect, and was extremely well spoken. Outside of his athletics he enjoyed reading and learning history, and his venture into sports only happened because it kept him busy and gave him some much needed space away from his home. He was readjust to a new life with his mom back in the picture, and a brother who was five years younger than him. At first it was simply an escape, but once he settled into the atmosphere of it all, it gave him a sense of structure. Sukuna was diligent about his training and academics, outsmarting and outplaying almost everyone around him. His motivation was fueled with every game and competition, and you quickly saw that Sukuna only had the expectation of being a winner and nothing else.
Navigating your teenage years was a bit tough for both of you.
It began with one sleep over just a year prior, the moment where you both recognized that things couldn’t progress as casually as they used to. You woke up tangled in each other’s arms, hyper aware of your bodies and the parts that were blooming.
Sukuna slept on the sofa every sleep over after that.
Thanks to your eruptive hormones, the both you bickered often and frequently. As you and Sukuna started understanding your own senses of selves, a hint of distance started to grow. For a long time the two of you only ever had each other, but with Sukuna now a part of the athletic group and you falling in line with your own little clique, the both of you were finding some time away from each other and identifying who you were without the other person around.
However, you always came back to one another, like two little magnets seeking each other out.
It’s all you’ve ever known since you were six.
One afternoon, while hanging out in the school’s basketball court, Sukuna turned to face you as you paced behind him while he was throwing some shots for fun.
“They think you’re my girlfriend,” he casually stated, referencing his new set of friends who always studied you with intense curiosity.
Your face burned multiple degrees hotter than it should.
“W-what?” You stammered.
“Yeah,” he answered nonchalantly, and you watched him dribble the basketball as the awkwardness settled.
“That’s…that’s weird…” was all you could think of adding on. “You told them I am not, right?”
Sukuna furrowed his brows and hummed. But he nodded his head.
“Just because we are friends that doesn’t automatically mean that we are “boyfriend and girlfriend”,” you insisted, using air quotes to emphasize your statement.
Sukuna turned so his back was to you, and tossed the ball directly into the ring.
“That’s what I told them…” he reassured, but something about his tone didn’t sit right with you.
The summer that followed - Sukuna’s grandfather, mom and brother took a trip away. Sukuna declined to join since he was participating in a tournament. After his wrestling team came out victorious, he decided to throw a secret bash at his place to celebrate.
You were there helping him hide away all the fragile items, before staring at him in shock when he placed a few beer cans on his kitchen counter.
“How did you get that?” You asked in a low whisper, afraid that you both might somehow get caught for doing something that you aren’t supposed to.
He just gave you a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, Princess…”
That nickname stuck on you like glue. It’s something Sukuna called you with annoyance when you were both kids, and you used to call him an angry dragon in return. Even though you stopped using that silly term, for some reason Sukuna’s pet name morphed into one of endearment and affection which he kept using.
“It’s just the team and a couple of girls that the guys have been trying to get with…” he ensured, “The guys wanted the beers, so I managed to sneak some from my grandfather’s stash…”
“And what if he finds out?”
Sukuna laughs, “that old man can’t even remember what day it is. I’m sure he won’t notice a few beer cans missing…”
That night you had your first secret party, your first sip of beer and your first kiss; it was one of those core memories that lingered that was reminiscent of the adrenaline rush from living out the freedom of being young with no responsibilities. You don’t remember who it was who called out the idea of playing seven minutes in heaven, but suddenly all of you were sitting in a circle spinning an empty bottle on Sukuna’s grandfather’s worn rug. Your heart sat at your throat, your eyes fixated on the piece of twirling glass, half wondering who it would land on. You watched as couples disappeared into Sukuna’s room, everyone snickering in a circle thinking about what the potential couples could possibly be doing.
The boys were crude with their commentary, and the girls giggled with feign disgust.
Some people came out looking displeased, clearly unamused by what they experienced, while others had a look of euphoria on their faces.
When the bottle landed on you, the first person you found yourself seeking out was Sukuna.
However, the other end of the bottle wasn’t pointing to him, but to one of his teammates.
His friend’s eyes widen with intrigue, a cute smile forming on his pouty lips.
Your own cheeks warmed with curiosity.
He helped you onto your feet, but the two of you were struck with an abrupt question that had you pausing your movements.
“Do you want to do this?” Sukuna pointedly asked, his focus on you alone and no one else.
There was a grave but serious look resting firmly on his face.
Something about his stare made you uncomfortable, though you couldn’t place why. With the eyes of everyone else on you and his teammate, you instantly wanted to divert the intense attention elsewhere.
“Of course!” You said with a casual shrug, then grabbed his teammate’s hand and led him into Sukuna’s bedroom.
You’ve been in here countless of times, never once feeling uncomfortable in this space. But this time, you were quite aware of the state of his bed, of the slightly rumpled sheets that were tugged from edge to edge. Your mouth went dry, your body suddenly trying to recollect every movie, book and comic that explained or depicted the intimacies between two people.
Two hands touched your waist, spinning you on your feet.
“Time’s ticking,” his friend said. “We shouldn’t waste it…”
“I’ve never done this before…” you blurted out.
“I haven’t either…” he answered kindly, and that made you feel better.
“Okay…” you said, before placing your hands awkwardly on his shoulder.
“Let’s just start with a kiss…” he suggested and then leaned forward.
You were frozen then, unsure of what to do. You stood there with wide eyes as you felt his lips on yours, the sensation making your belly tingle.
He pulled away.
“That wasn’t too bed…” you admitted and he laughed.
“Do you want to try?” He asked.
Your first initiated kiss wasn’t magical, nor was it horrendous as some of your other friends experienced. Even now when you think about it - the only memory that hits you is one of innocent exploration. It took a minute for you to get comfortable with his prodding tongue, to figure out the clash between lips and teeth, and to allow his wet muscle to access our mouth and glide over your own. The sensation reminded you of sticky, tacky popsicles that clung to your lips in summers past.
It was fun…until a loud bang startled you both, making you split from each other’s arms like opposing forces.
“Time’s up,” Sukuna growled, before barging in without even so much as asking if you were decent like he did with the other pairs.
The look he gave his teammate was terrifying, even you couldn’t help but gulp.
His friend let out a nervous giggle, scratching the back of his head as he scurried his way out. “Damn, that was fast!” He tittered nervously, his voice cracking slightly towards the end.
Sukuna narrowed his gaze as he watched him leave the room. Meanwhile, you both stood there facing each other, noticing his nostrils flaring as your breath rose and fell.
“What?” You questioned, returning his hard stare with an even stronger glare.
He huffed out a breath through his nose, “are you okay?” he asked, in an attempt to compose his clearly frazzled state.
“Yes!” You blurted back, a little shaken. “Was that even seven minutes?”
Sukuna grimaced, holding onto your eyes before he stormed out of his room, scoffing with annoyance at your response.
Neither of you really spoke about the awkwardness of that moment, and instead carried into the heat of that summer like nothing even happened.
But, what did hurt you after that, was that Sukuna never invited you to any of his “parties” again.
He fibbed and said it was just “a team thing”, but you eventually heard about the other attendees at the party, and only through the grapevine found out about Sukuna’s first kiss.
It felt like a betrayal in its own way, this sudden shakiness in your friendship as uncertain as tectonic plates waiting to crash into a shattering earthquake.
You called him one night to confront him, asking him why he wouldn’t tell you about his first kiss when you both should be able to talk about everything. But that conversation just resulted in an argument, a blow out that felt like a collapse in your world.
You both didn’t speak to each other until the end of that summer, when Sukuna finally waved the white flag by crawling to your front door late one evening with some ice cream as a peace offering.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, while you both sat on the sidewalk, scooping wooden spoons into the tub of vanilla with chocolate chips.
It’s the first time he’s ever apologized to you.
Even when you were kids, Sukuna refused to ever say he was sorry.
He would just pout angrily before over compensating with his sweetness to show you that he didn’t mean it.
But not this time.
You licked the vanilla off the spoon, biting down on the rich chocolate chunks, and hoping that the tears wouldn’t fall from your eyes from how your chest swelled at his remorse.
Sukuna draped an arm around your shoulder, “I hate that things have been weird between us.”
“You made them weird…” you mumbled and he just sighed.
“‘Yes,” he begrudgingly admitted, “yes, I did…”
You turned to look up at him, and he gave you a solemn smile.
“I’m a little possessive of you, I realize…” he explained, his lips forming into that small frown, mirroring his childlike expression.
“A little?” you answered back with a snarky tone.
“You’re my best friend,” he admitted, his eyes downcast with regret. “You have always been my person.”
“You’re my person too, ‘kuna…” you murmured, “but…but being best friends means that we have to trust each other. That we can’t just…hurt each other. That we should stop being honest or talking to one another when things get bad…that we can’t face things that make us…I don’t know, feel weird and stuff…”
He rested his chin on the top of your head, the two of you finally bridging the gap of what seemed to be the first real challenge of your friendship.
“It was a shit kiss…” he sighed, “I was just too fucking embarrassed to tell you.”
You gazed up at him from underneath your lashes.
“Why?” You said with a light laugh.
Sukuna’s attention dipped to your mouth for a split second and back to your eyes again. “I don’t know. You just seemed to have enjoyed yours in comparison. I felt like I lost a game or something. I didn’t want to admit that mine was awkward and wet and just…not fucking good…”
You laughed at that.
“Everything with you is a competition…”
“Not everything…”
You nudged his stomach playfully with your elbow. “Do you remember when we played Mario Kart for the first time? When you lost three rounds in a row and nearly ripped my head off?”
“How was I supposed to know you are freakishly good at that game?”
You laughed, “I stay the reigning champion of rainbow road!”
“You stay a pain in my ass…”
You rolled your eyes, “a pain in your ass that will never leave you, so stop complaining about it…”
Sukuna exhales, “It was…a bad kiss,” he admitted shyly, “She was so damn skittish, and I think I was too. I didn’t…I didn’t think it would be so…ugh. It was just not the right person…”
“Or maybe you were just nervous…” you answered honestly.
Sukuna shook his head.
“No, I know it wasn’t the right person…” he said with confidence.
You unraveled from his hold for a moment to look deep into those heated eyes.
“Can I say something?” he questioned, the tips of his ears turning slightly red, a blush you’ve seen before but never realized how adorable it actually looked on him until this moment.
“Anything”
“I don’t want you to think I am being weird or take this the wrong way…” Sukuna explained, pausing for a single breath before continuing. “I just thought the first person I would’ve kissed would have been…well, you…
The world went still in that moment. All you could hear was the soft rustle of the trees in the distance, and all you could see was the open vulnerability of Sukuna’s heart resting on his face.
It’s incredibly rare for him to even show it, your friend guarding that part of himself with such conviction.
“Oh…”
“But then I realized that you’re not supposed to be kissing your best friend,” he added on, stomping on the spark that flickered between you both before it even had a chance to even light.
“No,” you agreed quickly, your eyes darting to the tub of ice cream. You pressed the back of your spoon into the creamy texture, doing your best to ignore the sudden pulse in your chest.
“My second kiss was a lot better that’s for sure…” Sukuna rambled on, digging his spoon around yours as he scooped himself another serving of ice cream. “Way better actually…and on round three I think I got the hang of it…”
You swallowed the tiny lump in your throat. “I don’t need to know the gross details, please,” you implored, though your stomach rolled with a hint of nausea at the reality that he’s kissed more people than you expected.
You never admitted it out loud, but the confession made you a little jealous.
If you were an option in his head…why didn’t he just ask?
₊ ⊹ .
.
Sukuna lost his virginity to a freshman college student a year later when he snuck into a party with two of his former teammates. You lost yours on the night of your graduation party to the same boy you kissed for the first time. You and Sukuna were expected to attend the same university (with him obtaining a full scholarship for academic excellence), but your friend had deviated from the shared path after being scouted. The two of you commuted to see each other often, with you visiting him when he was training and him stopping by the campus whenever he had free time.
You and Sukuna knew about the other person’s intimate lives from the stories you shared, and despite continuously being plagued with constant accusations of being “more than friends”, you both agreed never to allow that discomforting prospect to intervene with your friendship again after that terribly awkward summer.
Rather than ignore the fact that you were growing to be even more beautiful by the day, Sukuna just became extremely blunt around you. He didn’t hide his eyes checking you out, noticing how your curves were starting to fill out and how you began to mature into your own features. He confidently spoke about how attractive you were, and often boosted your ego in ways that only enhanced your own confidence.
You enjoyed reminding him that once upon a time he thought “girls were disgusting” and “looked funny”.
“Let’s not forget I am the first guy to marry you,” he joked, recalling a game you both used to play where you pretended to be characters from a fantasy realm.
“Actually you were the first dragon to marry me,” you clarified, because Sukuna loathed the prospect of playing a prince. “I don’t really think it counts…”
“Maybe not - but all these guys fawning over you are going to find out you’re some kind of monster fucker and start running in the other direction…”
It was safe to say that the banter between you both never changed.
You on the other hand, were recognizing just how handsome Sukuna was becoming too. You’ve seen him shirtless a million times up until this point, but something about watching the definition of muscle build into his new physique, and noticing the way manhood slowly enveloped his body, began to hit you in different ways. This was especially noticeable when you would watch him train in the ring, paying attention to the fact that Sukuna wasn’t built just like any average person. It didn’t even occur to you how incredibly strong he had become until he would lift or move your body around like you were weightless and not a living, breathing human with physical mass.
One evening, while you both were walking back to your dorm from a dinner at a cheap ramen bar, Sukuna had the audacity to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder because “you couldn’t keep up with his pace”.
All of a sudden, you were acutely aware that the scrawny boy that you used to protect was now all grown up.
Sukuna morphed into brick and stone, while you were merely glass.
For some reason, it put a strain on your heart.
You guys really weren’t kids anymore.
This was only solidified a year and a half into his career when Sukuna fought in his first professional tournament at twenty years old. The man dominated the ring against his opponent. He broke the record of the most knock outs and became a household name almost overnight.
“The King”
Time moved at double speed after that.
Your fingers that were clinging to bits of nostalgia weren’t able to keep them from it slipping between your grasp. Things were happening in a blur, and the sudden shift in Sukuna’s world felt like a birthing black hole in your own.
The night before Sukuna was flying off on his first world tour, the two of you were cooped up in your dorm room, snuggled underneath the blanket like you used to be when you were both kids.
This time, it wasn’t awkward.
You had both experienced love and lust in different ways up until that point.
You knew that being this close didn’t have to mean anything risqué.
You were comfortable with yourselves far more than you were five years ago.
“It’s going to be weird not seeing you all the time,” you whispered with a sniffle, while Sukuna traced the shell of your ear.
Two silver chains mirrored one another, one on your neck and the other on his. It was your parting gift to him, a reminder to keep a piece of each other around when you couldn’t be together.
You assumed Sukuna would find it stupid, but instead he clasped the necklace around himself before doing the same for you in silent contemplation.
“I’ll keep in touch, brat” he soothed, but you could hear the ache in his voice too.
You circled your arms around his neck, eagerly clinging onto him as closely as you could for the little time you had.
“I am really proud of you though,” you spoke, your shaky breath against his collar bone, a tear rolling down your cheek as you inhaled the herby scent of his soap.
“I’m paying off your loans when the money really starts rolling in,” he chuckled against your temple.
You shook your head with disapproval. “Just buy your grandpa something nice,” you insisted. “And make sure to spoil Yuji…”
“That kid’s already spoiled…”
“But he’s a sweetheart,” you emphasized, “and I know he’s probably going to miss you more than me…”
Sukuna hummed. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”
You tilted your chin up as he dropped his head down, your noses merely inches apart. You relaxed the muscles on your face, your thumb reaching to smooth the crease from between his brows.
“God knows what would have happened if you didn’t save my sorry ass back when we were kids…” he said with an easy smile.
“You would have eventually fought back,” you giggled, “besides, you don’t need me protecting you anymore…” you pointed out, your voice a little breathless, and your anxious mind running on the concern of if you might even fit into Sukuna’s new life after this.
He wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into the seam of his frame.
“I always need you,” he confessed, and those words were enough to make you break as the pain of his departure finally collided into you.
₊ ⊹ .
Sukuna went off to having an extremely successful boxing career.
At twenty-two, he had turned into one of the hottest sports stars the industry has ever seen.
He had win after his win under his belt, and the second he partnered with Uraume it was a match made in heaven.
He was insanely good, and with Uraume by his side, he was now unstoppable.
You were provided tickets to any of his fights, accompanied with private transportation and accommodation if necessary. Sukuna always made sure that you were well take care of, and you always accepted because it was the only time you were able to actually see him. Those few days were precious together, before you had to depart and return to the real world once again. Each of Sukuna’s fights was a mesmerizing experience. There was something about his flow in the ring that managed to make everything else around him blur.
He was strong, but agile.
Brutal but swift with his movements.
He moved with regal precision, a dancer that understood the rhythms of strength.
Everyone challenged him, but all of them failed.
Ryomen Sukuna was a force to be reckoned with.
Despite the distance, you and Sukuna always made a conscious effort at keeping in touch with each other. You may not be physically there in each other’s presence, but not a day went by without a phone call or multiple texts.
At twenty-seven, Sukuna was at the peak of his stardom. Your best friend found himself tangled between the world of fame and fortune, alongside his old life of normalcy and humble peace. He made good on his promises; setting up a trust fund to ensure that Yuji was well taken care of in every capacity. He paid off all your loans in secret because he knew you would never accept it from him upfront. He bought his grandfather a home in Osaka for him to retire to. And his peace offering to his mom was renovating their old, broken home into something new and vibrant for her to live her life happily now that she seemed to have finally settled down in her third marriage. Sukuna even offered to take care of his step brother, Choso. They may not have been personally close, but he was grateful that Choso was keeping a watchful eye on Yuji.
Your own life was starting to unfurl as well - you had graduated university, were experiencing your first serious relationship, navigating various friendships and landing your first job. It all felt normal compared to Sukuna, but the man never minimized your experiences.
When you were together, it’s like nothing had even changed, but the moment your realities bled into each other, it was a constant reminder of how just how far apart your lives actually were.
You were harassed by the paparazzi who constantly overstepped.
Sukuna’s boundaries were crossed by the people you knew because everyone wanted a moment with the star.
You found yourself in environments with the rich whose beauty, wealth and status seemed far out of your reach.
Sukuna found himself being treated more like an object than a person.
And yet, you both seemed to be settling down into your own versions of the life you were creating - always weaving the other person in no matter the obstacle.
At twenty-eight, Sukuna had earned more money than he could even imagine, and was still somehow only moving onwards and up. He was plastered on every magazine cover, was the the center of attention on social media by his most dedicated and loyal fans. He was stalked and obsessed over, admired and feared. Networks wanted to feature him on shows, movies and every talk show. The man was a composition of everything that people were projecting onto him.
He had become an untouchable to the eyes of every living mortal.
But to you, and just you - he would always be the little boy who was far too small for this big world.
After years of flings with influencers, models, and high end socialites - it seemed that Sukuna was finally settling down with one of the top actresses in the industry. The moment the two of them were caught kissing at a party, their secret was revealed to the public.
You, however, knew all the details of the ways in which Sukuna was slowly wooing her.
At this point you’ve both grown tolerant of hearing about the other person’s love life. And at this time especially, you weren’t affected by Sukuna’s first serious relationship because you and your boyfriend were discussing the possibility of marriage which felt close on the horizon. You had just bought your first house, and was considering the big gesture of having him move in with you. You had gotten an incredible promotion at work, and for the first time you felt a sense of stability that you had never really experienced before.
“We should have dinner together!” You offered one night to Sukuna over the phone.
“The four of us?” He questioned.
“Yeah, I mean…you know Sousuke really well…”
“Yeah, and he hates me…”
“But I haven’t met Mei yet…and no, Sousuke doesn’t “hate you”…”
“I hate to break it to you, Princess. But the guy can’t stand me…”
You glanced towards your boyfriend who was sitting on the sofa, his attention on the television show he was watching. You stepped away from the living room, and quietly made your way to the bedroom.
“’kuna…” you spoke, your throat catching, “I think…I think he might propose…”
“What?!” He exclaimed and you had to pull the phone away.
“Jeez! Don’t shout! You’re going to make me pop an ear drum!”
He groaned.
You sighed, “we’ve been talking about it…and I just…I just really want you guys to get along is all. I just think you guys are just not seeing eye to eye…”
Sukuna remained oddly quiet on the phone.
“Can you say something?” You begged.
“Fine,” he grumbled, “we can do dinner at my place. The paparazzi have been hounding me trying to get any shot they can find of me and Mei. I would rather we don't go anywhere public...”
You smiled, “dinner is perfect!”
At first glance, the dinner seemed like a complete success.
The four of you chatted and enjoyed your night like you were all old friends, especially after Sousuke got over his starstruck moment when he met Mei. You and Sukuna told stories of your years together, inviting your partners to the pieces of your lives that you both shared. You could see that Sukuna was clearly attracted to Mei, and in turn he could see that you were happy with Sousuke. The night felt like a convergence without an implosion - an easy going settlement on the two roads that you and your friend had taken.
That’s why when your boyfriend called things off with you three months later, it took you completely by surprise.
Nothing in this world could have prepared you for that heartbreak.
It was a grieving period, a dark time of mourning that had you glued to your bed most days. This life that you had been carefully piecing together toppled like dominos. After breaking the news to Sukuna, you spent two weeks isolating yourself from anything and everything else.
Your best friend couldn’t stand seeing you in this state, and showed up at your door out of the blue one evening.
You burst into tears at the sight of him.
He was there to mend your broken heart, and he never left your side. He told his team that he was taking a much needed break, and during that time made sure that you were fed and comfortable. He handled any extra chores, slept on the floor in your bedroom every night so that you weren’t alone. He spent hours with you in silence while you wept, listened to you angrily vent your frustrations on how your ex could treat you this way.
One night, he woke up and realized that you weren’t in bed. He searched for you, finding you in the kitchen staring at a small pile of bridal magazines.
Your clothes were rumpled, you hadn’t changed or freshened up since that morning.
Sukuna didn’t say anything, just placed two hands on your shoulders and turn you away from the painful memories.
You gasped and hiccuped into his chest.
“I couldn’t sleep…” you explained, “I r-remembered that I still had these, and just…just wanted them gone…”
Sukuna tenderly stroked the back of your neck. “You know,” he said, his voice deeper than the ocean itself, the tone the texture of velvet. “I can always break his fucking legs…”
The comment made you choke out a laugh.
“It’ll ruin your career,” you whimpered. “It’s not worth it…”
“For you,” he soothed, his thumb lightly tracing the space where the base of your neck and spine connected. “It’s always worth it”
₊ ⊹ .
The blunder in Sukuna’s career hit early last year, when his relationship with Mei fell apart and resulted in one of the worst break ups that people have ever seen. Mei released a public, viral video that had millions of views and thousands of shares. She accused Sukuna of cheating for the entirety of their two year relationship, crying crocodile tears on camera over how she was simply another trophy that he could successfully claim while his heart always belonged to someone else.
That video made your blood boil.
You knew Sukuna wasn’t perfect - but if there was one thing you would never doubt about that man it was his loyalty.
You saw it towards grandfather, to Yuji, to Uraume, and even yourself.
That man scoffed at the prospect of cheating, believing it to be a cowardice act.
And Sukuna was no coward.
Even in prior relationships, he was always clear about where he stood. If he couldn’t commit to something, he made it perfectly known. You still didn’t know what it was about Mei that had him finally let his walls down. But when they were together, he looked perfectly content. Every desire and every fantasy he dreamt up in his youth had finally been accomplished. But all you knew about their break up was that things weren’t working out, and Sukuna wasn’t willing to share more than that.
You were being respectful of his privacy, understanding firsthand how tough this kind of heartbreak can be.
He called you when the Mei's video first broke out, his voice strained.
“You know it’s not true, right?” He questioned before even saying hello.
“Ryo, of course I know that-”
“I’m not a little bitch who would cheat. I would never do that. Nor am I that fucking stupid thinking I would ever get away with it-”
“I know…” you reassured, hearing the apprehension laced through his words. “Ryomen, I know you. I know you better than anyone else in this world.”
He breathed a long sigh of relief. “I was just wondering if you might have been convinced otherwise”
Your stomach tightened.
“But if you believe me, then I don’t give a fuck about anyone else.”
Something about that conversation clung onto you, it sat like a weight on your shoulders that you couldn’t quite possibly shrug off. The tabloids, news outlets and social media accounts were throwing ingredients upon ingredients into the rumor pot that was bubbling and boiling over. On top of that, a new rising star had just entered the boxing world, and Sukuna was suddenly dealing with brutal comparisons to the younger, hotter talent that was Satoru Gojo.
You were the one who offered to take him out to dinner to get his mind off of things, not realizing just how bad it actually was for him.
When a gossip magazine posted the photos of you both huddled together (as you have done many times before) while having an ordinary dinner, it spun your world inside and out. Though the pictures were quite blurry, there were a few people who were able to recognize you. You were being harassed at your work, interrogated by your friends and were even being accused of being “the other woman”.
The worst part is was when Mei fed into the chaos, making a follow up post and stating that “a woman always knows, and is always right” in regards to her break up situation with Sukuna.
She may not have explicitly said it, but her fingers were pointing at you.
You don’t know how your address got leaked, but when you started finding paparazzi stalking you in your own home it became far too much for you to handle.
Sukuna, on the other hand, was infuriated.
This whole time he was disengaged by what was going on, but once you were caught in the mix of this mess, it seemed that he was suddenly ready to cause equal destruction.
He sued his ex for defamation, sued multiple media outlets for harassment. He had Higuruma Hiromi, one of the top lawyers in his field, at the helm of this take down, and the second he shot back, it had everyone scurrying in retreat.
The tabloids, blogs and magazines all redacted the photos of you, reducing your digital footprint.
His ex, under pressure of Sukuna’s threats, came out with a public apology so that he would drop the charges against her and help her avoid her own PR nightmare.
The rest of Sukuna’s anger was taken out on the ring, with people seeing another side of what The King could unleash.
His match against Hajime Kashimo was one of the bloodiest in boxing history, his opponent left crimson and defeated despite seemingly holding a strong front in the beginning.
They dubbed him: “The Monster of The Ring” after that.
The damage was already done, and the stress of it all was starting to hurt Sukuna’s focus. When he nearly got disqualified in a match, that is when Uraume intervened, and felt it was necessary to include you in the discussion.
You’ve always had a complicated relationship with Uraume. They respected you, but you know it’s only because of your mutual relationship with Sukuna. Uraume, however, has made snide remarks towards you when you were both alone - about how you were merely a distraction when dangled in front of his champion’s eyes.
“I think some time apart would do you both good,” they said. “They are never going to stop hounding you because they think there is something more going on, and besides…we can’t have Sukuna fucking up with Gojo now in the mix. We need to show the world that he’s still as strong and as relevant as ever…”
“It’ll die down,” Sukuna stated with frustration.
The both of them bickered over it. It was the first time you have ever witnessed them in a heated exchanged. Your heart started to hurt because you were aware how all of this was only making your best friend see in shades of red.
He wasn’t himself.
He wasn’t thinking clearly.
This was impacting him.
You getting involved in this was impacting him.
“Ryomen,” you said seriously, placing your hand over his. “I think Uraume is right…”
The man turned to you, his fingers lacing between your own subconsciously as he squeezed it tightly in disbelief.
It was the first time you’ve ever seen him hurt.
“It’s just a short time apart,” you said with a comforting smile, “once everyone gets bored we can resume our lives in peace. But right now, I can see this taking a toll on you…”
He furrowed the front of his brows.
“Uraume is looking out for you, and I think what they are saying makes sense. Don’t you?”
“No, I fucking don’t…” he snapped, his eyes glaring at his manager who remained stoic as ever.
“Don’t let your emotions get the better of you,” they remarked, “I know a part of you agrees with what I have to say.”
“You’re not in the right state of mind, and you need to be”
“It’s for your own good,” Uraume insisted. "You are gambling with your career. With your legacy"
The decision was mutual but entirely heartbreaking all the same. Sukuna drew the circus away, and it broke you when you realized that in order to protect you, he had to sacrifice something in return.
The comfort of your friendship, the sanctuary of your company.
It was the price of fame, and one that he was willing to keep paying.
As a result of this tough decision, Sukuna had grown cold. Not because he was being mean or cruel, but because he thought he was offering you some peace of mind. Because he thought that by withdrawing from you, it would make the pain of the separation easier. He wanted this distance to be a clean break for the both of you, and while he honored keeping in touch, it was just at the bare minimum because his calls and texts were few and far between.
The most you saw of him was on a screen, and you could see that Sukuna was miserable.
He was turning into something vicious in the ring, a violent machine that people glorified. He wasn’t moving with the fluidity of an artist that you used to admire when you first started watching him fight. There was a sense of brutality that was now a part of his make up.
Sukuna was no longer a man, he was a beast.
His persona was dwindling into only intimidation. Every interview, every guest appearance, and every social occasion was met with detachments or disinterest. He was growing snarky and irritable, no longer willing to charm the people around him.
Satoru Gojo was the first to shoot at Sukuna with his words, dredging up his painful break up and even dragging you back into the fold with his commentary. The two of them grew to have a very intense rivalry. They exchanged heated arguments on social media, smack talked the other person in live interviews and had tense interactions in public.
The press and the people were eating up every single second of it.
On the eve of his thirty-first birthday, you received a call from Uraume.
“We are back in the city,” they said, “Sukuna needs to start training up for his match against Satoru Gojo.”
You swallowed the uncomfortable lump in your throat.
“Why didn’t he tell me he was back?” You asked softly.
Uraume sighed, “I don’t have to tell you that he’s been in a fowl mood. The agency is throwing a huge birthday party for him tonight which he is refusing to attend…”
“So, why are you calling me?”
“Because…” Uraume sighed, “he’s about to fly to close to the sun, and I can see he needs an anchor to bring him down to Earth a little bit…”
Your cheeks burned at the statement. “Are you saying I am his anchor?”
“I am saying it’s been almost a year since he last saw you…” Uraume explained, “And I don’t want him feeling awful on his birthday. I care about him too, you know?”
You nodded your head, “No, of course. I know that.”
“I told him that I would stop by to pick him up for the party, but I think giving him a nice surprise might do him so good. Remind the guy to enjoy himself a little…”
“You’re sweet,” you said with a smile.
“As are you, my dear,” Uraume replied tenderly.
“My, my, are you actually giving me a compliment?”
“Don’t let it get to your head,” they remarked playfully, and you felt a hint of ease realizing that things might not be as cold between you both as you thought.
That Uraume was really only ever considering Sukuna's well being first, just like you.
₊ ⊹ .
Uraume made sure that you got to Sukuna’s place in one piece and without anyone knowing that you were even there. You clasped your best friend's present between your fingers, your exposed body shivering from the cold air as you rode the elevator up to his penthouse apartment.
It felt right to dress up; you wore a white mini dress with a mesh overlay that had little embroidered detailing on the fabric. There were cut outs in the back, with an adjustable strap from behind cinching the bodice perfectly to your shape. Your kitten heels clicked against the floor, the nerves suddenly tingling their way up your legs as you thought about what Sukuna’s reaction might even be.
This year felt like a century in the timeline of your friendship.
You knocked on his door gently, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.
You could hear the trudge of footsteps from behind the frame, Sukuna’s voice bellowing as he spoke.
“Uraume, for the last fucking time, I told you I am not going, and if you force it I will fire you on the spot-”
He swung the door open and froze.
“Surprise!” You squeaked lightly, awkwardly lifting the gift in your hands. “I got you a present!”
Sukuna blinked once and then twice, his lips parting as if he’s seen a ghost.
“Uraume asked me to come,” you explained. “They told me that you guys were back…”
He stood there dumbfounded, for once rendered completely speechless.
You cleared your throat, feeling a warmth rippling over your skin as the man gave you a once over. His eyes flickered down your body, hovering over all the parts of your exposed skin. Your bare thighs, your décolletage, and up the nape of your neck.
“T-they wanted you to have fun on your birthday,” you added on with an apprehensive grin, “they actually suggested maybe a quiet night in and thought you might just want to spend it with an old friend instead of a bunch of people you probably don’t even like…”
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his mouth pressing into a firm line.
He looked…upset.
Was he not happy to see you?
“Uhm,” you mumbled, your fingers toying with the ribbon at the odd dismissal and lack of enthusiasm, “I-I don’t have to stay, but I did just want to wish you a happy birthday…”
You took a small step forward, holding the present up as an offering. “Happy birthday, ‘Kuna…” you said with a quiet warble in your voice and feeling like a complete idiot for showing up. The disappointment of his response sat heavily on your chest.
He lifted his hand, gripping the present as he plucked it out of your grasp. You cleared your throat, anxiously scratching the back of your ear as you lifted up the strap of your dress which fell on your right shoulder.
“I’ll just…” you added on in defeat, gesturing behind you to indicate that you were leaving.
You didn’t even notice his arm sling behind your waist when your eyes fell downcast.
Suddenly you were pulled over the threshold, the door closing behind you in a bang before your back was pressed up against the wooden frame. Your gaze lifted up to Sukuna, your pupils widening when you you were met with his menacing stare.
“You know,” you said with a gulp, hoping to the ease the tension as you tried to catch your breath. “You really do look like a dragon when you scowl like that…”
“Are you stupid?” He spat with irritation. “What if someone saw you come over? We just got the press off our backs…”
Your pulse hit the base of your throat. “Uraume ensured that no one was around…”
“I thought we agreed to take time apart…” he argued, ignoring your words. “You agreed.”
“You’re mad...” You pointed out, the tip of your nose wincing as you pursed your lips.
“I’m not mad, I’m furious…” he said with irritation. “I’m trying to keep you out of this fucking chaos and you just waltz in, in this sorry excuse of a dress, like everything is perfectly fine?!”
You looked down at your outfit, and folded your arms over your chest.
“I…” you spoke, your voice trailing off as your shoulders slumped.
You didn’t even know if you should apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong and this wasn’t even your idea to begin with. You’ve also never seen Sukuna speak to you this way before, and your confidence bubbled when you recognized that this...wasn’t him.
You straightened your back, tilting your chin up to face him with defiance.
You’re the only person in the world who willingly challenges him.
You don’t even have to raise a fist to watch him break.
He was pushing you away, the same way he did when you found him on the ground of that kindergarten because that’s what Sukuna does when he’s hurting the most.
“God, you’re just as miserable as look…” you pointed out with a quirk of your brow.
His jaw twitched.
“I don’t give a shit who catches me here,” you boldly claimed, “I miss my best friend…” you added before shoving his shoulder, “and you, you asshole, have no excuse for not telling me that you are back home. Just because I agreed to us spending some time apart, that doesn’t mean you get to just...cut me off like that. To not call me, to barely answer my texts, and to just push me away like I don’t matter to you…”
Sukuna winced, taking a step closer to seal the gap of space between you both. He brought his head lower, dipping his forehead to press against your own. Your spine seized in that moment, your lips parting feeling the heat of his breath on your skin.
You were expecting a rebuttal, but this…this wasn’t what you thought would happen.
“You are a pain in my ass…” he whispered, closing his eyes as he circled his free arm around your waist, “and the only thing that matters to me…”
He nudged his face closer, so close you swore to yourself that he might kiss you, before tracking his lips along your jaw and cradling his forehead in the crook of your neck instead.
Your right hand moved him to touch his shoulder, your face contorting with a hint of concern.
You felt it then, something wet on your skin where his forehead lay, and you took in a sharp breath as Sukuna tightened his arm around your waist.
“You shouldn’t have come…” he took a deep inhale against your neck, smelling your skin before clearing his throat from any shakiness.
“You said that already…” you grumbled unamused.
“Stubborn woman, you never listen...” he breathed in once more, “God, I fucking missed you.”
₊ ⊹ .
Sukuna opened his present once everything was settled, and once he finally embraced the reunion without questioning any other factors. He laughed at your little DIY stress kit that you put together for him. You both ordered in pizza, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa with the open cardboard box between you. You talked, and talked, and talked into the late hours of the night. Until there were only crumbs on the bottom of the box which Sukuna placed on the coffee table. The bottle of champagne that you have both been nursing was nearly empty.
Drunk on each other, with a belly full of food and simplistic joy settling in. Sukuna leaned against the arm rest, sprawling his long legs and patting his thigh sweetly.
“C’mere…”
Your heart hammered, and you bit the rim of your champagne glass before obliging.
You stood up, swaying a little and watching his hungry eyes blatantly check you out as you sat on his lap. Sukuna adjusted his position, before dropping his palm on your thigh, his touch stroking up and down your skin.
“What’s going on with you?” You inquired, placing your elbow on his shoulder as you rested your warm cheek against your palm.
You were looking at him with concern, noticing his face sink.
He rubbed one hand over the exhausted expression, an intoxicated blush painting his cheeks.
“The press are worse than ever. After Mei, it’s been…relentless. The stories they are coming up with, the things that they are saying about me. I went from being on top of the world to being the guy everyone loves to fucking hate. And with every fight I go into, people are just waiting for me to wash up. The cherry on top of this whole fucking thing is Satoru Gojo, who won’t stop running his fucking mouth. I want cut the little shit in half…”
You smiled, not to be condescending, but out of gratitude that you both easily slipped back into the shell of your own comfort. “Ryomen, he’s twenty-one years old. Do you not remember how you were at that age?”
He rolled his eyes. “I had more class than he did…”
“But you were aggressive,” you reminded, “You weren’t afraid to tear down the legends that predated you.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that maybe Satoru drew inspiration from somewhere…”
You placed the champagne glass on his chest, your fingers holding the stem as you swirled the liquid around gently. The silence hung in the air because Sukuna knew you were right, but there were other lingering questions pressing you at the same time. And thanks to the alcohol, you had all the courage you needed to ask.
“What happened with Mei?” You wondered, shifting your gaze to meet his.
Sukuna’s index finger tapped up and down your thigh in contemplation.
He closed his eyes and shook his head before swallowing the lump in his throat. “Nothing.”
You quirked your brow again, taking a swig of your champagne.
Sukuna used his free hands to wrap around your own, and he pulled the glass away from you to take a sip himself.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
He chugged the rest of your drink, and placed it on the ground beside him.
“Ryomen…”
“Don’t push me, brat…”
“But why not?” You wondered, “I just…it just seemed like you both were so happy and then all of a sudden…”
He dropped his head back against the arm rest and stared up at the ceiling. From underneath his black shirt you saw the silver chain poking through.
Your heart tightened.
You drew one hand on the locket, your finger curling underneath as your thumb tracked over the texture of the necklace.
“You’re still wearing it…” you mumbled.
Sukuna faced you. “I never take it off. Only when I have to get in the ring…” His eyes shifted to your exposed, naked neck, and you mindlessly reached for the silver chain that you were currently not wearing.
“I don’t wear it on certain occasions…” you explained guiltily, “only because I am afraid that I might lose it.”
“Plus, it wouldn’t go with this dress...” Sukuna nonchalantly added on and you laughed at his comment.
He sighed in defeat. “The necklace was a small reason,” he opened up. “Mei hated that I wore it all the time. She would badger me about taking it off. The time I spent with you after Sousuke didn’t help…” he added, treading the delicate topic with as much sensitivity as he could, “she accused me for cheating. I told her she needed to back off because you and I had a history that predates her. I told her that if the roles were reversed, you would be there for me because you have always been there for me…”
Your body froze.
“She would pick fights with me over everything about you. Finally I had enough, and told her she needed to fucking trust me if this was going to work. But things never went back to the way they used to. It was always up and down with Mei. Finally, when she had enough, she told me that I had a choice to make. Either I cut you off for us to happily together. Or…she leaves…”
You sat up, staring at him with wide eyes and shock.
“I’m…” you gasped, “I’m the reason why you both broke up?”
The guilt struck you harder than you expected, and you looked down at Sukuna’s torso shamefully as you recalled the state of yourself post-break up, thinking of all the moments where you might have potentially stolen precious time away from his former lover.
“Ryomen, I am so…I am so sorry…”
Two fingers brushed underneath your chin, and Sukuna lifted your head so you could see him.
“I picked you,” he confessed, “I picked you.”
“But-”
“There is no “but”,” he said with a shake of his. “We’ve been in each other’s lives for over two decades. You are my person. You are my family. You…”, he sighed, “you didn’t deserve what happened afterwards...”
His hands trailed up until his digits caught the hem of your dress.
“I’m keeping my distance to protect you..."
“But you loved her,” you gasped, “I saw it. I saw you both. I would’ve…I would’ve stepped aside. If I was causing any issues, I would’ve…respected your boundaries. I love you, Ryomen. I just want you to be happy, and if that means that I take a step back-”
“I did love her,” Sukuna interjected, the heat of gaze flicking upward, the rims slightly red from the alcohol he consumed. “But I love you more…”
He drew all the air out of your lungs with the slip of his tongue, making you perch yourself up so you were actually looking directly at him. His pupils were dilated, widening as if to give you access to the depths of his soul. In all your years you’ve known him, you don’t think the two of you ever actually exchanged those words. It was always veiled with “I care for you,”, “I adore you,” “You’re my person,” and “this is why we are best friends.”
But love…
That felt forbidden to say out loud, even though you both knew that the root of your friendship was only built on love, it shouldn't have come as such a shock to you for the confession to slip so naturally.
You gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, in a way that you haven’t since you were both sixteen years old.
Wondering…
Considering…
“I don’t…” you said quietly, sitting upright as he shifted beneath you.
You wound up straddling him, both your hands resting on his shoulders while his own continued to tease the hem of your dress.
“I don’t know what to say…” you exhaled.
Sukuna pinched the fabric between his thumb and index finger, allowing the silence to hang for a few minutes before switching the subject.
“Did you dress up for me?” He joked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his devilish mouth. He slid one hand underneath your dress, making you gasp as his touch moved dangerously high up your thigh.
“Wanted to look cute,” you murmured, your words lacing tightly together as the champagne danced across your tongue. You felt a pulse radiate between your legs, and you unknowingly clenched much to Sukuna’s amusement.
“Cute for me?” He coaxed.
“Cute in general,” you remarked.
His other hand sprawled across your back, and you knew he was testing his boundaries.
“Ryomen…” you warned, but it only made him break out into a full grin. His irises were drowning in lust and inebriation, and your own were falling in suit.
The hand on your hip dragged up further, until his fingers brushed over the string of your underwear. You scratched your nails down his chest, feeling your back arch into his palm as you mindlessly rolled your hips.
His lips moved to your ear, that mellifluous voice dangerously close. “Let’s play a game…”
He squeezed the fat of your hip, his weight lifting you up and the entire room spun as he pinned you underneath him when he switched your positions. He locked you against the plush sofa with his thighs, a throaty laugh coming through from your sudden squeak of surprise.
“Let’s see you try to get out of this one, Princess...” He teased, his teeth nipping at the side of your throat. “Or you’ll end up being my dinner…”
Your body vibrated from the sensation of his touch. You gripped his jaw firmly and pulled his face towards you, your brows furrowing at the proclamation of a challenge.
“It’s not fair to go against a boxing champion,” you argued, your spine curving as Sukuna slipped his other thigh between your legs.
He dropped his head to the base of your throat, his teeth catching the sensitive spot just above your collar bone, “don’t worry,” he soothed over the gentle bite, “I’ll play fair…”
“Don’t patronize me,” you grumbled through gritted teeth.
“You’re fault for waltzing into the dragon’s lair…” he alerted, quoting the very same line he used to when you would both play this silly fantasy game together.
But you’re not wielding plastic swords and entering into the enemies domain with a sense of courage. Now, it felt like playing with fire. Your skin was burning at the contact, at Sukuna’s weight over your throbbing body. When he nibbled on your neck again, your hand gripped onto the back of his head, tugging his hair a little roughly as you pulled him away.
Sukuna purred.
“You’ve never been able to beat me…” you teased, giving into the world of make believe just one more time but speaking the truth regarding this fact. “I’ve always been your biggest challenge…”
“Watch me win tonight,” he pushed with confidence, reaching for your wrist and pinning it above your head.
“And what are the rules here exactly?” You quipped, your tongue tingling and your body buzzing with excitement and curiosity. “Am I supposed to kill the dragon and win back my castle?”
Sukuna laughed, his eyes darkening as he pressed his forehead to yours once more.
“No need to draw any swords. Let’s play a game of submission…” he boldly claimed, and your attention flickered to find his brazen smile burning even brighter on his face. “First person to cum loses”
“Are you making a move on me?” You light heartedly disputed.
“Not at all,” Sukuna maintained, but you can tell from his tone that he’s veiling the truth.
There was something hard pressing up against you, and you had a feeling it was a nudge for some relief.
“It’s the dress isn’t it?” you giggle.
“If you even call it a dress…”
“Can’t handle a little skin?”
“I don’t want to shock you by telling you got me half hard just showing up,” he confessed, something unfolding in your drunken stupor.
“I can feel you…” you sighed, and the man hummed as he molded his body into you.
You felt him twitch, and it made your thighs tremble.
“We had too much champagne,” you informed.
“That we did”
“We should probably stop…” you exhaled, your lashes fluttering when you felt his thigh flex against your cunt.
“Do you want to?” Sukuna asks, his voice growing serious. His hand on your hip tugs at the string of your underwear, and he releases it with a snap as it pinches back against your skin.
You licked your lips, your brain too fuzzy to contradict what your heart wanted. “You know I will never back down from a challenge with you…”
“That's what I like about you,” Sukuna adoringly praises.
“And we both know you’re going to lose, right?”
Your throat shrinks, Sukuna’s hand gliding over your pubis to press the drenched spot against your underwear.
“Don’t underestimate me, Princess,” he advices ominously, “we’ve never played a game like this before.”
₊ ⊹ .
Clothes had to stay on - that was the rule you both agreed with.
To keep things fair.
To keep it…playful.
Your nipples pebbled, poking hard against the fabric of your dress as Sukuna sucked on the skin of your neck. You knew for a fact that he was leaving a mark there, and all you could do was bite back as his mouth trailed down the column and over the slope of your breast. You whimpered when he tugged at your clothed nipple with with his teeth, making the muscles in your leg seize from the sudden contact.
You had to do something, and so you reached your hand between your legs to lightly graze over his erection pressing against his sweats.
Sukuna groaned, and you sniggered at the reaction.
You lifted your head and neck, bringing your mouth to his own ear.
“You know,” you seductively stated, your fingers outlining the length of his hard member. “The first time I ever touched myself was after watching you practice in the ring…”
Sukuna cursed under his breath, your fingers squeezed around his length. You proceeded to stroke the heat of his member, striking hard for your first blow. “And I always do whenever I watch you fight. I get so hot and bothered seeing you in the ring. I even have a a specific vibrator I use…I named it after you…”
“Fucking hell,” he hissed when you snuck your hand underneath his waistband, bringing your touch even closer as you palmed him over his boxers.
“I’ve never told you that secret…” you declared, bringing your own teeth to his earlobe which you tugged mercilessly.
Sukuna lost himself for a moment, making you think this was going to be an easy win. But you heard him steady his breathing, could his muscles flexing as if to tame his own body back from giving in.
“I heard you once…” he stammered suddenly, closing his eyes as he recollected his memories. “Back when you were living in the dorm. I came over to drop off something, and you…ugh, fuck-…you were in the bathroom…moaning. I thought you were in pain at first, until I realized…”
Your own cheeks burned at his confession, the surprise making you ease your grip.
Sukuna grabbed your wrist then and pulled you away from his crotch. He placed it on your breast, and you absentmindedly pinched your nipple as he slid his hand between your legs. He lowered himself down, slithering underneath you and making your ears sting with vexation. He pushed your dress over your thighs, exposing your light colored underwear. The noticeable wet patch made his eyes glitter with satisfaction.
“I would have jacked off on the spot, but I left. I was clearly intruding on a private matter, but that didn’t stop me from blowing a load the second I made it to my place,” he carries on, bringing his nose and pressing it against your slit. “So fucking sweet…”
You tried to push his head away, and in response he dragged his tongue over the moist patch on your underwear.
“Oh my god,” you moaned, your hips bucking from the sensation.
“You’re the first person I think of when I touch myself,” he revealed, humming as his tongue lewdly licked over your underwear.
Your whole lower belly tingled, your arousal only slicking the fabric.
You needed to distract him from carrying on, but Sukuna hooked two fingers underneath your underwear and tugged them to the side.
You sat up on your forearms, pressing your thighs against his cheeks to stop him from diving in.
“Don’t cheat,” you sternly addressed, but Sukuna only scoffed vindictively.
“You’re still wearing them, Princess…” he pointed out, and the loophole made your core pulse with anticipation. “This isn’t cheating…”
With your panties tugged aside, Sukuna used two fingers to spread the lips apart.
He was staring at your pussy, studying it like it was the first one he’s ever looked at.
You wanted to say something, to ask what he was doing. But to your surprise he just placed a gentle kiss on your clit before murmuring sweetly into your sex. “You’re beautiful,” Sukuna complimented, as if expressing a blessing before a meal then finally dragging his wet tongue up along the slit of your exposed pussy.
“You’re ch-cheating…” was all you could think of blubbering out in the haze of lust, feeling the vibration of his laugh as he slung one of your legs over his shoulder.
It hits you then - the fact that this man indulges in going down on women. Though he never explicitly shared all the lewd details with his past partners, he did mention how it was “his favorite thing to do”. After all these years, you finally get to experience it for yourself. Feel how he latches onto your pussy as your arousal drips like he’s pouring honey out of the jar and slurping the sticky, creamy essence. You whine when he prods his tongue between your folds, expertly sliding the muscle as he rolls it in gentle waves to stir a budding orgasm. Your fingers intertwine around his locks, reading to yank him off until he slurps and sucks in just the right spot that has you simply massaging his scalp instead.
“…’kuna~…” you mewl, your nails dragging over his scalp.
The man circles his mouth over your tender clit, sucking on the bud before pressing another kiss on the nub.
Your pussy throbs when he pulls away, but you were proud for holding back.
It was your opportunity to distract him, and you shrugged off one of your straps to pull down your dress to expose your left breast. Sukuna’s attention flickered upward, watching you tweak at the hard nub as you gave him a shy grin.
“The felt really good,” you breathily whined.
He began crawling his way back up, and you used this opportunity to lift your body upright. He was distracted, wasn't even thinking about you finding a way out of this position. His lips instantly latched onto your nipple, his hands gripping the fat of your ass as he sucked on the point feverishly.
You licked your lips, doing everything in your power not to fall back into the black hole of his gripping dominance.
When he released you, you instantly pushed his back against the couch and climbed on top of him so you were safely straddling him again. You forcefully dragged your wet cunt over his erection, leaving a little trail of you to stain the fabric of his pants. Sukuna grunted with pleasure, bucking his hips as you ground yours.
“You’re not as sharp with me,” you giggled, languidly gliding your cunt over his begging member.
“Because you’re fucking distracting,” Sukuna grieves, his hands clenching into tight balls by his side as he refuses to grab onto your ass and push for more friction.
You felt him sink, using his shoulders as leverage to keep you perched in just the right position so your pussy was rubbing over his cock. You bit back a sound of pleasure from leaving you, and instead exhale softly as you continue rocking back and forth.
“You’re big everywhere aren’t you,” you tantalized, noting the way his jaw tense as a rumble erupted from his chest in a deep groan which morphed into a slightly sinister laugh.
“Let me show you.”
He lifted his hips, making you pause at the sudden awkward shift. He pushed his sweat pants down just to meet the end of his boxers. The removal of the first layer was a small relief, but your eyes widened as he settled back down. His erection was tenting, pressing up against the thin black material and making you see a clear distinction of his balls and thick shaft.
“Go on then,” he tempted.
Your could feel yourself getting wet. The tightness in your belly only contracting further.
You stared him down, knowing full well that he was manipulating you at that very moment.
“Why stop there?” You rebutted.
You helped pulled out the weight of his heavy cock from the restraint, watching his length smack against his lower belly as the tip dribbled with cum. Sukuna moaned when your thumb pressed against the slit, your touch dragging back and forth as you aligned yourself.
The sounds of your panting breaths were far too loud in this quiet room. You hesitated for a minute before lowering yourself, pressing the fat tip at your entrance. You gulped down air from the stretch alone, your arousal enough lubricant for your take him. You sank, your attention on Sukuna’s whose eyes were honed in on the point of contact of your sexes.
When your pelvis finally kiss his own, when your bodies were merged into one, you felt two hands seek your waist as you trembled in his arms.
Your dress had fallen back over, covering him buried inside you. You were looking up at him now as his chest rose to press yours.
A puzzle piece finally connecting.
He twitched inside you, and you clenched around his length, but neither of you moved. You forgot, for a moment, that this was just a game. That the two of you were probably going to wake up tomorrow morning not being able to face the other person. Your heart was racing, your body begging for movement but you couldn’t snap yourself out of the bold decision you already made.
Sukuna was looking deep into our eyes, the sparkle behind his own irises making you think of embers on winter night.
His hands slipped up your waist, over the curves of your breast and up on the length of your neck. He held your head between his palms, the tips of his thumbs lightly caressing your cheeks, with his fingers to the back of your neck. He tilted his head down slightly, his nose brushing against the bridge of yours and he did something that caught you entirely off guard.
His lips were warm on yours, the kiss the softest gesture you’ve ever experienced from him. He held a firm kiss at first, long enough until you were crumbling apart. You parted your mouth, granting him entrance and he swiped his tongue to lick the inside. He was tracing your own, his wet and wanting mouth only growing more hungry as you eagerly accepted his kiss. Your heart hammered heavily in your chest, and goosebumps peaked all over your skin when you felt his thumbs gently caress the soft skin of your cheeks.
You’ve never been kissed like this before. Never felt bursts of light erupt from behind your eyelids or your stomach explode with fireworks. This always just fun foreplay for you, but nothing that would make you quiver in heat. You almost came on the spot from this one little act that you’ve imagined since you were sixteen, the one which you thought would never occur because of an unspoken rule on boundaries. But it was finally happening, and it was far too magical for you to even comprehend.
He swallowed your moan, tasted how sweet your desire actually was. The kiss was getting heated, your walls tightening around his cock His lips wrapped around your tongue. He sucked on it, before sliding his own back over yours.
You felt so weak; were reminded that you truly were just a fragile thing in his arms and nothing more.
He pulled away, a string of saliva sticking from his lips to yours but you shook your head as you circled your hands around his wrists.
“More,” you cried desperately without thinking.
Sukuna smiled against your mouth and obliged.
You don’t know how long you both sat there making out. But every time he tried to pull you away you sighed “again,”, or moaned “don’t stop”. You didn’t even consider kissing to be an option on the table, but the more you were getting turned on the further your guard went down. Your hips started to bounce lightly, your pussy so bothered that it wanted some relief. You started fucking yourself over his length, your mouth battling with lips, teeth and tongue in a very heated stand off. Sukuna relaxed his body against the sofa, noticing you melt over him like you were wax. Your hips were moving up and down, your tongue languidly rolling around his mouth. You could feel Sukuna moving with you, bucking his hips in return. His jerks were growing sharper, his hands dropping back down to your hips to keep you in place. Your foreheads were touching, lips parting, panting heavily as you climbed and higher. The two of you were lost in the moment, forgetting everything else that led up to this.
You were going to lose this one, you thought, and you didn’t even care.
Your head was spinning, your heart bursting, and you reached to hold his jaw in your hand out of desperation, hoping that by clinging to him it meant that you wouldn’t disappear into the haze of it all. Entirely overwhelmed by the feeling, by this particular connection, your eyes started to water, with tears falling as your nose grew stuffy.
“Ryomen~” you begged, your dulcet voice full of affection. The tip of his cock hit your sweetest spot and at that point you knew you were done for.
But Sukuna jerked his hips, the groan that ripped out of him made your belly spasm. He pulled out fast, shooting his cum all over you. Your orgasm collapsed into you just seconds after, and the two of you were shaking against one another as you tried to reorient yourselves to the present.
You were a mess, and so was he.
Two hands found your thighs as your torso collided into his. You placed one hand on the base of his neck, and rested your cheek against the crook.
“You lost,” you joked with a sniffle, because you were unsure what to say, and because you realized you had just fucked your best friend and had no idea what that meant.
Sukuna just grinned, flashing you a knowing smile and a devilish smirk.
He perched your chin under his fingers, tapping the end sweetly.
“Doesn’t feel like I did,” he breathed, and your eyes glittered once more.
You arched up to kiss his cheek, “I didn’t know a dragon could kiss this well…”
Sukuna chuckled, bumping the tip of his nose to yours affectionately as he tilted his head down. “I’ve had time to practice.”
You sighed into another kiss, “What did we do, Ryomen?”
“Something we should have done a long time ago…” he responded in between.
“You love me…” you breathed.
“And you’re surprised?” He interrupted with another kiss.
“I don’t know what that means…”
He nipped at your bottom lip. “It means what it means. I love you. Fuck, enough that I nearly fucking came inside you without thinking. You haven’t been around and I feel like I've lost my goddamn mind in just a year…”
Your nails dragged down his chest your heart leaping its way up your throat.
“I love you too,” you revealed. “I love you, Ryomen. And I missed you too."
You both fell asleep on the sofa, waking up the next morning and replaying the events of your drunken stupor. After you both cleaned up and showered, you had a serious conversation over two cups of coffee. Though, you aren’t quite sure how "serious" it was, considering that Sukuna had you sitting on his lip while you were gently stroking his hair.
He revealed that the reason why he didn’t tell you about his return was also partially due to the fact that he was leaving that very night to hop on plane and fly halfway across the world. He couldn't bring himself to see you for only a short stint when he knew he needed far more time together after everything.
“Uraume is right,” he bitterly admitted, “You are a big distraction for me right now, and I have to be in the right headspace for this fight with Gojo”
“You sound worried,” you pointed out with a furrow of your brows, your hands dragging back his locks as you threaded your digits between the strands to push his hair back from his forehead.
“If he beats me then I am done,” Sukuna blurted, “what I have built will diminish into nothing. I can’t lose to him. It’ll cost me my career…”
Disappointment wrapped its arms around you just as Sukuna loosened his own grip. But you could hear the hint of tiny, tiny fear behind his words was enough to you feel hollow. Sukuna has never felt threatened, but this was a serious fight for him. He’s worked so hard for all of this, and he was not willing to give it up to some punk who just shot into the scene.
“Why don’t we revisit this after the fight then?” You offered.
He glanced at you.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean..." you exhaled, "what if maybe we just need to wait a little longer before we allow ourselves to have this..."
Sukuna paused for a moment. “You’d wait for me?” He asked.
A smile ticks at the corner of your mouth. “Yes, because you always come back to me”
“That I do” he responds
You brush your fingers under his chin, tilting it upward once more to receive another kiss. “I’ll wait for you,” you ensure. "Because I'll always come back to you too."
₊ ⊹ .
One hand slides into the front pocket of your denim skirt, and Sukuna rests his chin on top of your head. You smile to yourself, though he can’t see it, because he’s busy watching you slice bits of fruit as you place it into one of his ceramic bowls. When you were kids, Sukuna would have to look around your arm whenever he hugged you from behind. The years show the evolution of this gesture, from him suddenly perching over your shoulder until he could simply see over your crown.
He sighs, his other arm curling over your belly as he embraces you.
“Don’t add the blueberries,” he mumbles.
You oblige, your back leaning into the breadth of his chest.
The two of you haven’t touched one another since that faithful night.
Up until the fight, you and Sukuna simply returned back to the way things used to be. Except this time there were little alterations in your day to day conversations that indicated a shift.
For one, Sukuna was a flirt.
You were use to this commentary, but now that your friendship has taken a turn you find your cheeks growing heated more often around him because his words weren't gray. What he says toward you, and the way he compliments you rings very, very true. There is also a deep tenderness for one another that you both are finally allowing to express freely. You don't dull your affection, and instead allow it to overflow. And last of all, the longing to be back together was pathetically obvious.
You placed the strawberries, sliced peaches and peeled oranges into the bowl, your fingers a little tacky. “I need to wash my hands,” you indicate, and Sukuna begrudgingly releases you from his hold.
You’re surprised that he didn’t pounce on you so quickly.
The two of you only had one other sexual moment just a few months ago.
Sukuna video called you one evening, his face tight with frustration.
He was exhausted from training, and even more drained by the press.
They were claiming that his new “pumped physique” was due to steroid use, and one little rumor had the representatives of the boxing association hounding him like he was a real culprit in this make believe story. Suddenly, his hard work and training was being reduced to the thing that the press claimed him to be: a cheater.
He called you to ensure you that everything was alright. That he was forced to take tests which all came out negative (obviously) and and effectively proved his innocence.
“I can’t wait to be home,” he breathed with annoyance. “I’m fucking sick of this shit…”
You were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, gently patting your moisturizer onto your face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you stated, offering him only an apology because it's all you could give. “Is there something I can do to make you feel better?”
Sukuna arched his brow, his attention hovering in front of the screen.
“Yeah, you can take off that robe you’re wearing…” he teased.
You jerked your head to the camera in surprise, noting his cheeky tone.
“Ha-ha…” you remarked.
“I’m being serious,” he answered back, his mouth dropping into an instant frown. “I’ve had a shitty day, and I can’t even do the one thing I want to help me relax…”
You arched your brow. “And what might that be?”
He revealed his canines, a wolfish grin brightening that handsome face. “Fucking my girl...”
Your heart thumped, and you swallowed the sudden tightness in your throat. You picked up your lip balm and dabbed your finger into the ointment before gliding it over your bottom lip.
“Your girl, huh?” You reiterated casually, hoping that Sukuna wouldn’t quite pick up on the catch in your throat.
“You’re always my girl, even when you weren’t mine to call that…” he added softly, his voice pulling your attention back towards him.
He wasn’t kidding around, with the look on his face entirely serious. The tips of your ears stung with a heat that you couldn’t explain, and you just had the sudden urge to reach through the screen and pull his face back towards you.
You wanted to kiss him, to tell him that you always felt like you belonged to him too.
The two of you an inseparable pair for a reason.
Instead, you stripped down to reveal your naked form. You perched the camera towards the back for a wider shot, and allowed your body to speak to Sukuna instead. One of your legs was resting on the bathroom sink, the other grounding you on the floor. You had the camera facing your cunt, with your fingers buried deep inside. But it was nothing compared to the stretch of Sukuna’s digits, wasn’t filling you enough to reach you to the pleasurable climax you desired.
“It’s not enough,” you gasped in between breaths, watching Sukuna passionately jerk off from he other side of the screen, “Need you, ‘kuna~” you whined, “it’s not enough with you…”
The memory hits you, making your lower belly tighten.
You dry your hands off to face him, only to find the man standing with an expression of guilt on his face.
The same concern you had earlier when you left the elevator reappeared once more.
You pick up the fruit bowl from the counter, trying your best not to give the discomfort attention. You offer Sukuna a strawberry, lifting it towards his mouth but he instantly circles his hand around your wrist and pulls it back down.
“I need to tell you something,”
You scrunch your brows, and place the fruit bowl back onto the counter.
“What’s wrong?”
Sukuna closes his eyes, a look of shame washing over him.
You take a step closer, wrap both arms around his waist and rest your chin on his chest.
“What’s wrong?” You repeat, coaxing him to speak.
“I nearly threw the fight tonight.”
You jerk your head up in shock, your lips parting as your jaw falls from the confession.
“You…what?”
Sukuna rubs his tired face with one hand, using every ounce of courage to look back at you.
“There was a moment in the ring when Satoru threw a relatively decent punch,” he explains, “I had the lights knocked out of me for a split second. When I turned to face him it hit me then...that I could fake dodging his next attack before giving him the opening that he needs to win. One more hit and I’d...collapse. Let the referee do his count, and that would be it…”
You knew the exact moment he was referring to. It was the point in the match where your ears were ringing because you truly thought that you would be witnessing a loss on Sukuna's part. The entire crowd was muttering in shock, all of them on the precipice of a potential shift in legacy.
“I didn’t follow through because I think Satoru noticed a change in my demeanor. It was only a few seconds, but the kid is fucking sharp. He wasn't smugly determined then, he was looking at me with...confusion. I couldn't do it then. I didn't want him to get a cop out on my end. So, I carried on the fight the way I would. After the match, I thought I could just let the moment pass but Uraume tried to bring it up later and I shut it down because I didn't want to admit it. Anyway, I needed to just get it off my chest…”
“You were going to give him that win?” You expressed with deep concern, tightening your hold around his waist as you watched Sukuna’s face to turn hard.
It hits you then - that the Champ, The Monster of The Ring, The Beast and King Himself was…burnt out. Sukuna’s fire had been gone for quite some time, you just thought it would reignite after tonight.
But it didn't.
You bring your hands to his biceps and caress your palms up and down.
“Ryomen,” you speak, licking your lips with hesitation before finally asking. “Is this what you still want?”
Contemplative eyes meet yours as his palms find both your cheeks. He drops his head down, his lips seeking yours as he takes into account the gash on the muscle, then places a careful kiss on your mouth.
“I just want you,” he hums.
“M’right here,” you murmur back, “Not going anywhere.”
“I’ve been waiting for this,” he adds on, “that’s all I could think about during the fight. Was just coming home to you, coming home to us…”
A shiver runs down your back, but your body vibrates with an innocent excitement. “We don’t have to wait anymore,” you whisper. “I’m not going anywhere no matter what happens. No matter what comes next…”
Sukuna looks at you then, knowing full well what your statement means.
Once news breaks out of the two of you being an actual item, heaven knows what might happen. If the paparazzi have been plaguing Sukuna like a curse this whole time, it was only going to get even more complicated with you so intimately intertwined in his world. And now that he was back on top as the champion, he knew full well that all eyes were going to remain on him.
From when he was a child, no matter what he believed about his life that would deter you from him. His broken home wasn't enough to push you. His anger wasn't enough to push you. His detachment wasn't enough to push you. The chaos that is his world wasn't enough to push you.
You have always remained solidly by his side.
His constant. The only thing in the world that he can rely on.
“I love you,” he states under his breath, leaning in to peck you for a second time.
“I love you too,” you repeated with a smile against his lips.
There was no epic moment around this sober reveal, no exceptional circumstance other than the privacy of it being spoken with no one else to hear it other than the two of you.
You loved one another, in the deepest possible way you could love a person. From there your lips parted, and you carefully kissed the man before you as he scooped you up in his arms.
He repeated the phrase again when he placed you on the kitchen counter, with his fingers buried deep within the folds of your wet pussy.
You moaned it back to him after he carried you into his bedroom, with your fists tangled between his hair as he ate you out.
He grunted it out one last time, with his hand gripping the headboard as he watched your body melt into the matters when he thrusted his dick in and out of you as he made love to you feverishly.
And you mumbled it back one last time while he held you in his arms, the two of you falling asleep from a very long night of unbridled passion.
Sukuna was the first to wake at the crack of dawn. He rolled over to grab his phone from the side table in an attempt to turn off his alarm before it woke you up as well. As he looked at the device, his heart sank.
A number of notifications were blowing up his phone and it was making him feel dizzy.
News articles were already painting him in all his glory after his fight with Satoru, with his opponent looking battered in defeat. The press had finally flipped, and suddenly began to revere him the way he deserved to be. There were text messages from an influx of people, either congratulating him or wanting get his thoughts on the match. Sukuna feels the tremor in his hand build as he starts to scroll through the notifications.
He places the device on the blanket in front of him, his eyes looking out to the large windows as he watches the sky shift from a deep violet to a lilac blue. He turns this head to gaze at you. This image of you by his side, in a position that he’s seen multiple times in his life, feels different now too. The soft glow of new daylight washes over your body, and the stillness of the hour has him believing that he actually made it to heaven. Sukuna places a soft kiss on your forehead, then carefully kicks off the blankets. He searches for his boxers, then pulls on the pair before stepping out into his balcony.
He calls Uraume.
Usually they pick up quick, but Sukuna counts down the rings until they do.
“My King,” they tease, their voice a little groggy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Sukuna watches a bird fly across the horizon, the ease in his chest an affirmation to what he’s about to say.
“I’m retiring,” he announces. “I’m done.”
The silence hangs in the air, streaks of orange and yellow begin to tint the clouds.
“I had a feeling you were going to say that…”
“is that why it took you long to answer my call?”
Uraume huffs out a laugh. “I guess I was hoping for another piece of news…”
“Are you mad?” Sukuna asks, only honoring Uraume with his worry because he knows how much they have done for him to begin with.
Uraume sighs, “I’m not actually. It’s the smartest decision you can make. You retire now and you basically leave the game while sitting at the top. You’ve earned that throne, and it won’t be easy for these rookies to take it from you so quickly…”
Sukuna chuckles, “you’re right about that…”
Uraume lets the quiet overtake the conversation. “I’ll give it a few days before I break the news to the press.”
“And then what?”
“There’s definitely going to be a lot of interviews, and a retirement party that you will have to attend wether you like it or not…”
“And what about you?”
Uraume hums, “You and I had a good run. If it’s the end for you, then I guess I can finally retire too..”
Sukna furrows his brows, his nails scratch over the rail on his balcony. “I don’t want you doing that because of me…”
Uraume laughs, “You’ve earned my loyalty, what can I say?”
“Thank you,” Sukuna breathes, “For everything you’ve done for me. You’re more than just a manager, but I think you already know that...”
“I know it,” Uraume answers back. “And I also know that this is the right decision because you sound…relieved.”
He hears you then.
You were calling out to him, “‘kuna, where are you?~”
He turns his back to face the railing, missing the sun breaking through the horizon at the sound of your voice. He smiles thinking about the adorable, frustrated look on your face when you probably reached out and couldn’t find him, and he slowly begins making his approach back into his bedroom.
“I am,” he speaks to Uraume, “I’ve got to go. Will talk about this later.”
He hangs up the phone, and returns to the shadow of deep, restful slumber. He places the phone back on his side table, and smiles at the exact disappointed expression that he pictured when he was outside.
The second you feel his warmth back in your presence, you snuggle up into his frame.
“Where did you go?” You mumble with a yawn, and Sukuna wraps his strong arms around you as he nestles back into your body.
“Nowhere,” he breathes, easing back into your embrace.
“Heard you talking,” you add on, you eyes still shut but your arm slinking around his neck to keep him close.
It’s taken you both over two decades to get here, and he wasn’t going to allow anything to come in the way of that. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he reassures, keeping his loving eyes on you as he clutches onto his bright, new future with his favorite person.
A life that you both will now get to live in peaceful happiness.
₊ ⊹ .
:note: hi, everyone! long form fics has been really draining for me these days but these one shots feel like a great refresher. I know this is a monster of a fic, but I hope you enjoy the story. comments and reblogs are appreciated!
tags (only tagging those who asked): @after-laughter-come-tears @not-9ok @axxk17 @sukubusss @lavenderdaydream97 @charlie-xo @kunasthiast @celestep004 @brownskinnedgirll @sukunasweetheart @kunascutie @joontroverted @emi311 @yuujispinkhair @starmapz @bellyei
Happy New Year 🍾🐉
IDGAF they are his kids now
choso added to the frat mix oh someone save him
I want to say inappropriate things.
need to make a toji ver
✧*̥˚⋆ the boys and their littles ⋆*̥°✩
i saw these on tiktok and they were too cute not to share, they are not mine! there was no credit to the artist so if anybody knows who the creator is let me know xoxo edit: artist has been found _GOGAEK
[papamin au 🐅] fall stroll 🍂
“hello ken” you say with honey dripping from your voice, a wide smile and kind eyes when you see the blond as if he was the guest of honor in your heart.
“you look gorgeous” kento says slowly making his way to you, almost timidly.
yuuji observes from the side. this is his first christmas party at jujutsu tech, so there’s many people he doesn’t know, and he’s looking forward to meet all but you catch his eye by the way you so dearly address nanamin.
you get very close to each other and yuuji holds his breath thinking you’re about to kiss but instead you just touch the tip of your nose on his.
“what the…” he whispers to himself.
“you keep getting gorgeous over time” gojo says appearing besides nanami and holding your hand up high for you to give them a spin.
“she used to be nanami’s girlfriend” megumi explains to yuuji.
“used to? they sound so in love…” yuuji tilts his head looking at the smile on nanami’s face, the smile actually takes his whole features.
“yeah, well” megumi shrugs.
“you guys know what to say to a girl” you laugh, both yuuji and megumi stand there admiring the scene before they get dragged away by nobara.
yuuji looks over his shoulder one more time to catch the glimpse of when you meet nanami’s gaze and the scene seems like it’s on slow motion, your smile widens and his softens. there’s no way two people that look at each other like that are not in love.
May the heroes we loved be forever remembered
myherotober day 4: monster
Hi koli i saw your request were open and was wondering if you could do a Tokyo revengers x reader (final timeline) where they have a baby and they say their first word with preferably: chifyuy, kazutora, baji, mikey, izana, rindou, shinichiro and any others you would like to include
۶ৎ auth: ahhhh omg my first request in like so long, I’m actually so excited to work on this!!! Feel free to request any anime, show or movie, and any character!! :) I might make a taglist.
۶ৎ Summary: After so much back and forth to fix the feature, you’ve finally settled down—and finally had a baby. The joys of parenthood only continue and your baby says their first words.
۶ৎ: sfw | scenario | fem reader | babies/parenthood | fluff | time skipped | implied poc reader, though you could ignore the information that doesn't fit you.
۶ৎ Characters Included: Chifuyu Matsuno, Kazutora Hanemiya, Baji Keisuke, Manjiro (Mikey) Sano, Izana Kurokawa, Rindou Haitani, Shinichiro Sano, Kokonoi Hajime, Ken Ryuguji.
۶ৎChifuyu Matsuno
It’s an ordinary evening, and Chifuyu sits with the baby on his lap, his calm, logical demeanor softened by the tiny bundle in his arms. His black undercut, neatly styled, contrasts with the gentle warmth that radiates from him as he softly coos at the little one, a sense of peace enveloping the moment. The baby’s big, curious eyes stare up at him, the faintest glimmer of recognition in their gaze.
You’re nearby, watching quietly from the kitchen, as usual, keeping a close eye on the small family gathering. The baby shifts slightly in Chifuyu’s arms, their little hands reaching out, exploring, unsure of the world but finding comfort in the familiar presence of their father.
Chifuyu looks at the baby, a tender smile creeping across his face. He’s normally so composed, always the steady one, but this… this softens him, makes him feel an unfamiliar kind of warmth. “Come on,” he murmurs softly, “say something for me.”
The baby babbles incoherently for a moment, small giggles escaping their lips as they grab hold of his finger, wrapping their tiny hand around it like it’s the most important thing in the world. Chifuyu chuckles, shaking his head softly. “You’re as stubborn as your mom,” he says under his breath, smiling at the thought of you.
Then, suddenly, the baby’s little voice breaks the silence. It’s not a full word, but there’s a clear attempt to speak. “Da-da!” the baby declares proudly, their voice high-pitched but full of delight. Chifuyu freezes for a moment, his face lighting up with surprise, a hint of pride showing in his usually calm features.
You, hearing the unexpected word, laugh softly from your spot, watching the exchange. Chifuyu’s usual composed self cracks for a brief moment as he stares down at the baby in awe. “Did… did you just say ‘Dada’?” he asks, though it’s clear he’s delighted.
The baby repeats it again, this time with even more enthusiasm, “Da-da!” Chifuyu shakes his head, a small laugh escaping his lips. “Guess I’ll take that as a victory.”
You walk over quietly, your heart swelling at the sight of Chifuyu, who’s always so composed, now with the smallest of smiles, cradling their child with complete adoration. The baby, seeing you, reaches out with their tiny arms, making a soft noise of recognition.
“Looks like you’ve got competition,” you tease, leaning against the doorframe, your voice light and playful.
Chifuyu’s face turns slightly red, his calm demeanor returning, though the smile still lingers. “It’s just a fluke,” he mutters, though it’s clear he’s overjoyed. The baby giggles again, the sound filling the room, and Chifuyu leans in, pressing a soft kiss to their forehead. “I can’t believe you said ‘Dada’ first,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of affection.
The baby, oblivious to the momentous occasion, just giggles again, content in the safety of their father’s arms. It’s a simple, tender moment, but to Chifuyu, it’s everything.
۶ৎKazutora Hanemiya
The air is still, heavy with the calm that comes with the evening as Kazutora sits on the couch, a small, fragile smile on his face as he looks down at the baby resting in his arms. His long, black hair, streaked with yellow, falls lazily over his shoulders, the strands a contrast to the tenderness with which he holds the child. There’s an unfamiliar peace in his expression, a quiet moment of solace after all the chaos that’s filled his life. His usually volatile demeanor seems distant as he looks at the little one, their soft breaths the only sound between them.
You’re just a few steps away, your presence like a gentle echo in the background, keeping watch as Kazutora carefully adjusts the baby in his arms, the kind of delicate handling that surprises even him. He’s never been one for softness, always pushing against the world with a hardness that left little room for gentleness—until now. He looks down, eyes tracing the baby’s tiny hands, the little fingers wrapped around his own with surprising strength.
The baby stirs, their wide eyes blinking up at him, and Kazutora’s breath catches slightly in his chest. For a moment, it’s as if everything else—the turmoil, the chaos, the memories—fades into the background, leaving only this quiet exchange between father and child.
Kazutora’s voice is soft, almost hesitant as he speaks to the baby, a far cry from the manic energy he once carried. “Hey, little one… can you say something for me?” he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet kind of longing, though it’s not for the world outside—it’s for this fragile connection he never thought he would have.
The baby, in their own way, tries to respond, making gurgling noises that grow into more distinct sounds. Kazutora watches in silent anticipation, a rare, genuine smile creeping onto his face as the baby’s mouth moves again. It’s almost as if they’ve been waiting for the right moment to speak.
Then, with a bright, innocent giggle, the baby suddenly blurts out a word, though it’s not what Kazutora expected. “Dada!” they say, the sound coming out in a clear, high-pitched tone.
Kazutora freezes, his eyes wide in disbelief for a second. His heart lurches unexpectedly in his chest, and he looks down at the baby as though they’ve just given him the most precious gift. His expression softens, a deep and almost bittersweet tenderness settling in his gaze. “Dada…” he repeats under his breath, as though trying to wrap his mind around it. There’s a tremor in his voice, something raw and vulnerable that he doesn’t often let surface.
You can’t help but smile as you watch the moment unfold, the baby’s innocent giggle filling the room, unaware of the weight they’ve just placed on Kazutora’s heart. Kazutora’s fingers twitch slightly as he holds them closer, his past, his pain, his regret all swirling beneath the surface of this simple, unexpected moment.
The baby, sensing the comfort of Kazutora’s embrace, reaches up with their tiny hands, trying to grab at his face. Kazutora laughs softly, the sound foreign yet warm as he leans into the baby’s touch. “You’re gonna make me soft, huh?” he mutters, though there’s no bitterness in his words—only a quiet affection.
You step forward then, offering him a soft, knowing glance. Kazutora looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, everything between the two of you seems to settle. There’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze, something that says more than words ever could.
Kazutora’s voice breaks the silence, still low and almost tender. “I never thought I’d be here, y’know? This… this feels different.”
You smile gently, watching him with the baby in his arms, a sense of peace settling over you both. The moment is fleeting, but it’s a reminder—Kazutora, despite his past, is finding something he never thought he deserved.
۶ৎBaji Keisuke
The night is quiet, the soft hum of the streetlights casting a dim glow in the room where Baji sits, his wild, untamed jet-black hair falling to his shoulders in loose waves. His usual grin is absent for the moment, replaced by a look of calm as he watches the baby in his arms, who is squirming lightly, their little hands reaching up as if trying to make sense of the world around them. There’s an intensity in Baji’s eyes, but it’s not the usual fire of a fight—it’s something softer, something that only surfaces when he’s with his family.
You stand by the doorway, leaning against the frame, quietly watching the scene unfold. Baji, who is always full of energy, the type to jump into action at any given moment, seems almost frozen in this moment, the wild spark in his eyes replaced by a rare tenderness as he holds the baby close to his chest.
The baby gurgles softly, their small face scrunching in curiosity as they look up at him. Baji’s lips twitch into a small smile, but it’s different than his usual mischievous grin—it’s something warmer, more protective. “What’s going on in that head of yours, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, though a hint of his usual playful nature is still there.
The baby babbles in response, their little voice almost a melody as they stare at Baji with wide, innocent eyes. And then, as if on a whim, the baby utters a word. It’s clear and unambiguous, the word they’ve been practicing, but it’s not what Baji expected.
“Dada!” The word rings out, not perfectly clear, but undeniably present.
Baji’s eyes widen, and for a moment, his usual grin falters, replaced by something almost vulnerable. He looks down at the baby, his hand resting gently against their tiny back, and the slightest breath escapes him. His fingers twitch as if unsure how to react to the sudden surge of emotion he didn’t anticipate. His heart pounds, a rush of warmth flooding through him, and despite all his bravado, there’s a crack in the tough exterior.
You smile, stepping a little closer to them, your heart swelling at the sight. “Looks like you’ve got a little fan there,” you tease softly.
Baji’s grin slowly returns, though it’s softer now, not the usual wild energy that so often defines him, but something more intimate. He leans down, his sharp canine teeth flashing briefly as he chuckles under his breath, the sound light and full of affection. “Yeah, I guess so.” He says it with his usual swagger, but it’s evident that something about the moment has shifted. This isn’t a victory he expected, but it’s a victory that matters more than any battle.
The baby reaches up toward his face, their tiny fingers brushing against his cheek, and Baji’s heart skips a beat. He looks at you for a moment, a wordless exchange between the two of you, before he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the baby’s forehead. “Good job,” he mutters, his voice soft but steady.
You can’t help but watch the moment unfold with a quiet admiration. Baji, the wild, adrenaline-fueled force of nature, has just experienced something that slows him down, something that pulls him out of the chaos of the world and into a simple, pure connection. The baby giggles, their tiny hands grasping for his hair, and Baji laughs too, the sound genuine and full of joy.
For a brief moment, the world outside seems distant, and all that matters is the little family in that room—the wild heart of Baji, softened and made whole in the presence of his child.
۶ৎManjiro (Mikey) Sano
Mikey sits in the quiet of the living room, the soft hum of the clock the only sound besides the gentle breath of the baby in his arms. His short, dark hair is parted neatly at the middle, the weight of the world outside this moment temporarily forgotten. The familiar carefree energy that Mikey is known for seems absent now, replaced by a tenderness he rarely shows. He’s holding the little one close, his hands steady and secure around them, the once-unshakable pillar of Toman now softened by something unexpected.
The baby stirs in his arms, their small face scrunching in confusion as they try to adjust to the world around them. Mikey watches them with a faint smile, though there’s something more complex behind his eyes. The carefree grin that usually defines him is replaced by a quiet focus, a vulnerability that he seldom allows others to see. His heart is heavy with thoughts of the past, of everything he’s lost, but in this moment, the baby offers him something pure, something he hasn’t had in a long time—peace.
The baby’s tiny hand reaches up, grasping for the fabric of his suit, their tiny fingers curling in and out as if trying to touch something they don’t fully understand yet. Mikey’s breath catches in his chest, his gaze softening. He can feel the warmth of their small body, the innocent trust they place in him without question, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of his own burdens lifts just slightly.
“Mama?” The baby says, the word coming out softly but unmistakably.
Mikey freezes. The sound is far from perfect, the baby’s voice still nasally and unsure, but it’s clear enough, and Mikey’s heart skips a beat. He blinks down at the child, his expression flickering between surprise and a strange tenderness, something unfamiliar and soft that he never expected to experience. His hand twitches, fingers tightening around the baby instinctively as if protecting them from the world outside.
You, standing nearby, catch his gaze, the understanding between the two of you unspoken. Mikey clears his throat, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he glances at you, trying to regain some of his usual bravado. “Guess that’s not the word I was hoping for,” he says, his tone playful, though there’s a depth to it, a warmth he’s not used to showing.
The baby reaches up again, this time grasping Mikey’s finger, their touch delicate yet insistent. Mikey smiles softly, the usual coldness in his eyes replaced with something warmer, something that speaks to the weight of the love he’s learning to give. “It’s okay, little one,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Maybe next time, huh?”
He presses a gentle kiss to the baby’s forehead, his lips lingering just a little longer than necessary. The moment feels suspended in time, as if the world around him has faded and all that matters is this—the small, fragile life in his arms and the quiet peace they’ve brought him, in spite of everything he’s carried.
You step closer, watching the scene with a soft smile of your own. Mikey looks up at you then, his expression still soft, but now there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. He may have once carried a darkness that threatened to consume him, but here, now, with his child in his arms, that darkness feels far away, as if for a brief moment, he can just be… Mikey. The Mikey who is a child at heart, who’s capable of tenderness and love even amidst the weight of his past.
With a soft chuckle, Mikey leans back slightly, his hand still holding the baby close as he looks at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “You heard that, right?” he asks, his voice teasing but there’s something vulnerable in it too. “They said ‘mama.’ Guess I’m off the hook for now.”
You laugh, the sound light and full of warmth. Mikey’s grin widens just a little, and though it’s not the wild grin of a fighter or leader, it’s something just as genuine—something that feels like a promise, a reassurance that even with all the darkness he’s faced, he’s finding light again. And maybe, just maybe, this little one is part of that light.
۶ৎIzana Kurokawa
Izana sits in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of a guitar string resonating in the air. His large purple eyes, usually cold and calculating, are softened by the warmth of the baby in his arms. His wavy hair falls gently around his face, the strands catching the light as he adjusts the baby’s tiny body against his chest, the faint scent of plants and the soft ripple of water from the fish tank nearby offering a peaceful backdrop to an otherwise chaotic life. He had never imagined this—holding a child, one so small, so fragile in his arms. His usual detachment feels muted, replaced by a strange sense of responsibility, a sensation he’s never quite allowed himself to experience before.
The baby stirs in his arms, eyes blinking open and gaze unfocused, their small hands reaching out in curiosity. Izana’s usual composure doesn’t waver, but the faintest trace of tenderness lingers in his gaze as he watches the child, something unfamiliar surfacing beneath the layers of bitterness and coldness he’s built over the years.
The baby makes a small noise, a soft whine, their lips twitching as they try to vocalize something. Izana tilts his head slightly, his eyes narrowing, waiting. His fingers gently caress the baby’s back, an instinctive gesture of care that surprises even him. In the silence of the room, a soft and tentative word escapes the baby’s lips. It’s not quite clear, but the intention is unmistakable.
“Dada.”
Izana freezes. His grip on the guitar tightens for a brief moment, his eyes blinking as he processes the sound, the word hanging in the air like a sudden, unexpected shift in his world. It’s simple—just one word—but for someone like Izana, who has spent most of his life surrounded by cold, violence, and manipulation, hearing such a soft and innocent utterance stirs something deep within him.
A flash of his past flashes through his mind—the loneliness, the bitterness that once consumed him. He had never felt a connection to anyone, certainly not like this. He had always been the one to push people away, to make himself unapproachable, but here, in this moment, the baby’s small hand wraps around his finger, their soft grip a reminder of something pure, something he had lost long ago—the ability to care without expecting anything in return.
He exhales slowly, his face betraying nothing but the faintest softness that only the baby could elicit from him. His hand gently lifts the child, their eyes still wide with curiosity, before he leans in close, pressing a soft kiss to their forehead.
“Dada, huh?” Izana murmurs, his voice quiet but not without a hint of amusement, the corners of his lips turning upward in a small, unexpected smile. It’s a rare sight, one that doesn’t appear often, but in the quiet presence of the baby, it feels more natural than anything he’s ever known. “Guess I’m not as bad as I thought,” he adds softly, almost to himself.
You, standing nearby, watch the scene unfold with a knowing smile. Izana doesn’t often allow anyone to witness such moments, but here, now, with the child in his arms, the pieces of his past—the anger, the bitterness—seem to fade into the background, if only for a moment. Izana looks up at you then, his eyes softer than usual, as if silently asking for your approval, for reassurance that he’s doing this right. That he’s not as lost as he often feels.
He doesn’t say anything more, but the warmth in his eyes speaks volumes. The man who once sought power, control, and dominance has now found something far more valuable—a sense of purpose, a bond he never thought he would have. As he looks down at the baby, his grip tightening slightly around them.
۶ৎRindou Haitani
Rindou sat on the floor of the living room, legs stretched out, his back against the couch, the afternoon sun casting long shadows through the windows. His pinkish-purple mullet, with its dark blue roots and tips, was damp from a shower, strands falling messily around his face. He had a lazy, almost indifferent expression as he stared at his phone, absently scrolling, but his free hand rested on the baby seated between his legs, offering a steady support as they clumsily played with a soft, squeaky toy.
The baby babbled, gnawing on the corner of the plush thing, drool soaking it thoroughly. Rindou, ever stoic, just watched, raising an eyebrow whenever the squeak got too loud. His black stud earrings caught the light, a stark contrast to the rough Bonten insignia tattoo inked boldly across his neck.
“You’re gonna drown in your own spit,” Rindou muttered, lifting the baby gently by their underarms, pulling them up into a wobbly stand on his thighs. The child stared back at him, wide-eyed, chubby cheeks flushed. Their little fists grabbed at his shirt, seeking balance, and for a moment, there was a quiet exchange—a softness that rarely found its way into Rindou’s life.
The baby blinked, their gaze fixed on Rindou’s face with intense concentration, like they were processing something far too big for their small brain. And then, out of nowhere, they let out a small, clear sound.
“Dada.”
Rindou froze.
The word was soft, tentative, but unmistakable. His blue-gray eyes snapped to the baby’s face, as though he wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard it. His normally stoic expression cracked, a rare flicker of surprise flashing across his sharp features.
“What…?”
The baby blinked again, almost as if testing the sound, and with a little more confidence, repeated it.
“Dada.”
This time, it wasn’t a fluke.
For a solid five seconds, Rindou just stared. The usual snarky, blasé attitude was nowhere to be found—his mouth slightly open, the baby still gripping his shirt tightly, unaware they’d just done something monumental.
A scoff broke the silence, but it was soft, almost disbelieving. “… No way.”
He tried to play it cool—but there was no hiding the way his lips twitched, threatening to pull into a smile.
“You’ve got shitty taste in first words,” he murmured, lifting the baby higher until their noses nearly touched. The baby, delighted with their new word, kicked their legs happily and repeated, “Dada,” with even more enthusiasm, like they knew they’d hit gold.
Rindou exhaled sharply through his nose, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in his chest. He glanced toward the hallway, as if making sure no one else was around to witness this moment of weakness.
“Yeah, yeah,” he whispered, giving in as he brushed his nose against the baby’s cheek, the smallest, almost imperceptible grin forming on his lips. “I hear you. I’m your ‘Dada,’ huh?”
The baby squealed, a high-pitched giggle, and Rindou couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped him. He was used to fights, to blood and bruises, to commanding fear—but this? This was different. And for once, he didn’t mind losing. Not to them. Not to this.
۶ৎShinichiro Sano
It was a quiet afternoon at the Sano bike shop, the scent of oil and metal lingering in the warm air. The faint sound of a wrench clinking against the concrete floor echoed through the open garage, where Shinichiro Sano sat cross-legged, lazily working on a motorcycle engine. His unkempt black hair stuck out in random directions, and a cigarette hung loosely from his lips, the thin tendrils of smoke curling upward.
He wasn’t in any rush—never was, really. Dressed in his usual pearl-white shirt and light-washed jeans, a jacket lazily tied around his waist, he looked as effortlessly relaxed as ever. A silver chain peeked out from beneath his collar, catching the sunlight every now and then.
Nearby, his daughter sat on a thick blanket, surrounded by a mess of soft toys and teething rings. She was barely old enough to crawl properly, but that didn’t stop her from making every effort to squirm toward her father, her tiny hands grabbing at the air.
Shinichiro glanced over at her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his thin lips. “You getting bored over there, sweetheart?” His voice was raspy, warm, and effortlessly gentle as he set the wrench down and wiped his hands on a nearby rag.
She responded with a string of baby babble, half-formed sounds that made no sense but filled the space with life. He watched her, enchanted by the simplest things—how her little fingers curled and uncurled, how her eyes, a perfect mirror of his own dull black ones, lit up every time he spoke.
“Hold on, hold on. I’m comin’.” Shinichiro stubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, rising to his feet with a lazy stretch. He scooped her up effortlessly, holding her against his chest, her small hand immediately tangling itself in the fabric of his shirt.
“You smell like motor oil,” he murmured with a chuckle, kissing the top of her head despite the mess on his hands. “Not exactly the ideal dad scent, huh?”
As he swayed gently, rocking her out of instinct more than anything, the baby stared up at him, wide-eyed and thoughtful, her chubby cheeks flushed pink from the warmth of the afternoon. She blinked slowly, as though studying him, her tiny mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something.
And then, soft as a whisper, it happened.
“…Da…da…”
Shinichiro froze.
The word was faint, breathy—so delicate he almost thought he’d imagined it. His heart skipped a beat, a strange, unfamiliar warmth surging through his chest.
“…What?” His voice came out quiet, almost disbelieving, as he pulled her back slightly to look at her properly. “What’d you just say?”
The baby blinked again, her expression pure and innocent, and as if sensing his awe, she tried again, this time stronger, more confident.
“Dada.”
Shinichiro felt something inside him break wide open.
He laughed—not his usual lazy, carefree laugh, but something softer, shakier. “You serious right now?”
Her tiny hand reached up, grabbing at the silver chain around his neck, and for once, Shinichiro felt completely helpless—in the best way possible.
“You’re not supposed to say that yet…” he whispered, though the grin on his face betrayed him completely. His thumb brushed gently over her round cheek, his eyes shining with a tenderness so deep it made his chest ache.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m your ‘Dada,’” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes as he breathed her in. “Lucky me.”
The bike shop, the tools, the cigarette smoke—none of it mattered in that moment. All he knew was the weight of his daughter in his arms, her tiny voice calling out to him, grounding him in a way nothing else ever had.
And for the first time in a long while, Shinichiro felt like he truly had everything he could ever want.
۶ৎKokonoi Hajime
The city skyline glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Kokonoi’s penthouse, casting long shadows over the sleek, minimalist living room. The distant hum of traffic blended with the soft jazz playing from the speaker, creating a calm, almost surreal atmosphere.
Koko sat cross-legged on the floor, dressed down in black sweatpants and a plain white shirt, his silver-white hair loose around his shoulders. He had a glass of whiskey beside him — untouched — as he watched their daughter with that same quiet intensity he reserved for high-stakes meetings… except this was different.
She was sitting in the middle of a plush play mat, surrounded by a chaotic scatter of toys, a stuffed bunny half-chewed, and a colorful book she had zero interest in. Her soft hair fell over her round cheeks, and she looked up at him with wide, thoughtful eyes — eyes that mirrored her mother’s so distinctly that Koko sometimes forgot how to breathe when she stared at him like that.
“Pretty, aren’t you?” he murmured, a faint smile touching the corner of his lips as he leaned back on his hands. “Got that from your mom… lucky kid.”
She babbled in response, smacking the bunny against the floor with impressive determination, her little brows furrowed as though she were solving some great mystery.
Koko’s gaze softened, a rare warmth breaking through his usual cool composure.
“You’re really giving that thing a hard time,” he remarked, watching her with a mix of amusement and fascination. “What did it ever do to you?”
She paused, blinking up at him, lips slightly parted, as though she was about to say something… but instead, she dropped the toy with a dramatic flair and crawled toward him, tiny hands smacking against the polished hardwood floor.
He sat up straighter, heart giving an odd little skip — not that he’d ever admit that.
“You comin’ over here?” he asked quietly, more to himself than her.
She reached him, pulling herself up with clumsy determination, her chubby fingers grabbing a fistful of his shirt as she balanced on unsteady legs. Koko’s hands hovered near her waist, ready to catch her if she wobbled too much.
And then, she looked up at him… and with a small, clear voice, said:
“Da…da.”
Koko blinked.
For a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. The word was soft, delicate, but unmistakable. His throat tightened, the glass of whiskey forgotten entirely.
“What… what did you say?” he asked, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.
She stared up at him with the same serious expression, as though this wasn’t a monumental moment — just another part of her day.
“Dada.”
The second time, it hit him harder.
A sharp inhale, and then — to his surprise — a soft laugh escaped him, the sound rough and disbelieving.
“You—” He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to ground himself. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
She, of course, said nothing. Just continued to stare at him, her tiny hands gripping his shirt like she had no intention of letting go.
“First word, huh?” Koko said, his voice softer now, almost fragile. “And it’s me…”
Something in his chest ached — something he hadn’t felt in years. He thought of how, for so long, he’d believed everything important in his life slipped through his fingers, no matter how tightly he held on. But here she was… holding onto him.
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he whispered, brushing a gentle hand over her soft hair.
She leaned forward, her head resting against his chest in a way that made his heart squeeze painfully.
“I should tell your mom,” he murmured, though he made no move to get up. “She’s gonna want to hear this…”
But he didn’t. He just stayed there, holding her, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing, as though he was afraid to break the spell.
“Dada,” she mumbled again, sleepily this time, as if testing the word.
Koko closed his eyes for a long moment, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head, the faintest smile on his lips.
“Yeah…” he whispered. “I’m your Dada.”
And for once, there was nothing else he needed.
۶ৎKen Ryuguji
The rain tapped lightly against the windows, casting soft shadows across the small but cozy apartment. The scent of warm tea and baby powder lingered in the air, a comforting mix that made the place feel lived-in — loved.
Draken sat on the floor, back against the couch, his long legs stretched out, and their daughter nestled comfortably between them. His strong, calloused hands were gentle as he helped her balance, her tiny fingers grabbing at the hem of his patterned jacket with the determination of someone on a mission.
“Steady now, princess,” he murmured, his deep voice softer than usual, a faint smile playing on his lips as he watched her.
She had her mother’s eyes — there was no denying it. That same soft, soulful gaze that could stop Draken in his tracks, no matter how tough he tried to act. The resemblance was almost eerie, especially when she stared up at him with that thoughtful, almost knowing expression, as if she could see right through him.
“You’re gonna be a heartbreaker, you know that?” he teased, running a hand over his buzzed undercut, the dragon tattoo on his temple stark against his skin. “Just like your mom…”
His daughter, of course, was unimpressed. She was too busy trying to pull herself up, grabbing at his jacket with clumsy determination, her chubby legs wobbling as she straightened herself.
Draken arched a brow, watching her with a mix of amusement and quiet pride. “Look at you… tough little thing,” he muttered. “Didn’t get that from her.”
She babbled something incoherent, rocking back and forth on her feet, her lips forming shapes that almost sounded like words.
“Yeah?” Draken chuckled, leaning in closer, his braid falling over his shoulder. “What are you tryin’ to tell me, huh?”
She paused then, swaying slightly before gripping his jacket tighter. For a split second, Draken thought she was about to fall — his hands twitched, ready to catch her — but she steadied herself, blinking up at him with wide, serious eyes.
And then…
“Da…da.”
Draken froze.
The word was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it hit him like a punch to the gut.
“What…?”
She said it again, clearer this time, her small voice filling the room in a way that made the air feel heavier.
“Dada.”
Draken stared at her, his heart pounding in a way he hadn’t felt since his gang days. His throat tightened, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure what to say — wasn’t sure if he could say anything at all.
“You…” He swallowed hard, his voice rougher now, a little hoarse. “You just—”
Before he could finish, she took an unsteady step forward and fell right into his chest, her tiny arms wrapping around him as best as they could.
“Dada,” she mumbled again, her voice muffled against his shirt.
And that… that broke him.
Draken closed his eyes, his large hand cradling the back of her head as he held her close, his thumb brushing over her soft hair. The warmth of her small body against his made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t prepared for — a deep, protective kind of love that scared him more than any fight ever had.
“Yeah…” he whispered after a long moment, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, his voice softer than it had ever been. “I’m your dad…”
He stayed like that for a while, holding her, feeling her small breaths against him. He didn’t call for her mom — not yet.
This moment was his. Just for now.