#boxer!au

18+, nsfw at the end with a tojikuna slip if you squint thinking about how, in the underground boxing world, being the manager of both boxer!toji and boxer!sukuna is its own achievement. you've singlehandedly created two monsters — and formed the most infamous boxing duo to date.

breaking up fights between boxer!toji and boxer!sukuna is an almost weekly occurrence for you. sukuna thrives from provoking toji enough to make a vein pop out of his neck. gives him a dopamine rush. it's so spontaneous that they'll get nose-to-nose, sparring, boring into each other's eyes because of a tease here and there, and it'll be you who has to de-escalate before it ever gets out of hand.

"damn, you usually hit harder than that. your ass definitely didn't stretch, huh?" "sukuna, don't start on me now." "now? whew, old man's mad. c'mon, uppercut, right on my chin, i dare you— make my day." "sukuna, save the instigating for when you're in matches." "what, i can't rile him up a little? makes the sparring fun."

on account of your advice and drilling technique's into their heads, boxer!toji will always let boxer!sukuna have the final blow on his opponents. he'll have that signature sadistic smile planted on his face before he lands a right hook that, in most cases, breaks a bone. but that's his goal— when he's too into it, he'll take his boxing gloves off like a madman and land a punch just to see the blood on his fingers of his own opponent and from busting his knuckles open from dealing too heavy of a blow. on the other hand, unlike sukuna, toji isn't as flashy or jumpy, but he's damn well agile. he's footwork-heavy, excelling in body shots and illegal grappling instincts to dismantle his opponent. he'll read the micro-movements and sport an occasional crazed grin before putting them in a headlock to weaken their breath control. he's sukuna partner for a reason; they're both brutal.

boxer!toji and boxer!sukuna that got lucky with you. of course, they're amazing fighters that in their own right dominate the underground. but in that same setting, 'managers' are only people who achieve sustenance off of gambling and exploitation of their fighters' well-being. you, however, seem to put the financial gain aside—not as if you were making a lot— and prioritise keeping their name known. you're goal orientated, and they forever appreciate it. boxer!toji and boxer!sukuna that dress like sluts. of course, you don't expect them to dress prim and proper, whatsoever. but your eyes can't help but linger on their bodies when they walk around, sweats and shorts hanging low on their hips, enough to reveal their v-line, and the fact they never have a shirt on. ever. no matter the occasion, the pair will always have their full bodies on display for you to stare. and you'd complain but you don't because you ogle them every time. they always catch it, and share a shared look and a smirk between each other before continuing like nothing happened.

during bulking season, there's always one person sukuna and toji rely on; you. their bulking meals are most often lean, consisting of meals with seasonings only your precious fingers can make. you're their 'professional chef', and they're your 'professional eaters'. but when they feel like dirty bulking to get their muscle/fat up for a match, they know exactly who to come to when they want something off-menu, which may or may not consist of them taking turns eating you out for hours. and if you're lucky, on a one-time occasion, you'll take one of 'em. it's boxer!sukuna being nothing but obscene as he's got you in a nasty headlock, hips snapping against yours as mean thrusts hit your walls perfectly like he was made for it, boxer!toji getting himself off to the sound of you beside you. "hey—shitt, my dick feel any bigger inside that pretty pussy? bulkin' got 'er feeling tighter than usual."

sukuna would release your neck, guiding his hands down to the plush of your hips, before pausing, and you'd look back at him, utterly confused. "ryo, m-move."

"n-no," he'd mock your voice in a high pitched whine that made toji chuckle, and you glare at them both, but mainly sukuna. "the fuck you looking back at me like that for? arch that back further, woman, c'mon and fuck me back. i'm not dealing with a pillow princess." you'd get a chance to take a small breather from being (happily) suffocated under sukuna's biceps and whine your hips, him using his hands to guide your hips so you two sync in a rhythm. "you sound corny as shit, lemme fuck her." toji would chime in, palming himself. he wasn't bothered about how pathetic he looked, satisfying himself with his own hands whilst you two were fucking in front of him. no matter what, the two would always bicker. even over fucking you. he'd then mockingly pout at toji . sukuna leans down to you, speaking loud enough to layer over the straight porn the two of you were making, skin to skin. "awe, you hear that? big guy wants his turn with you, manager." the pink haired man would look up to his teammate with that same vex-worthy grin, "you want it bad, fushiguro? huh? you gonna say please?" toji would only scowl at him, eyes threatening to roll at how easily sukuna could piss him off in a way nobody else could. sukuna would only meet his gaze, a bitch-made sneer planted so wide you could see his canines peaking out from the side. their tension was almost erotic, enough to make you throb inside sukuna just a little.

"ngh— suck my dick, ryomen." "oh? that an invite or what?" "die."

boxer!𝑦uji, who has permanent calluses across his knuckles and apologizes every time he wants to hold your hand. "Sorry—they're kinda rough."

boxer!𝑦uji, who looks for you first after every fight, whether he won or lost.

boxer!𝑦uji, who also lights up the second he spots you in the crowd.

boxer!𝑦uji, who constantly aches after practice causing him to instinctively crawls into your arms, mumbling about nothing.

boxer!𝑦uji, who texts you before every match:

"Going in. Wish me luck baby! 🙏❤️"

boxer!𝑦uji, who's not embarrassed to kiss you in front of the cameras, especially after a major win. Even deepening the kiss, you could feel him smiling against your lips.

boxer!𝑦uji, who always smells faintly of athletic tape, laundry detergent, and mint gum.

boxer!𝑦uji, who happily gives you is medals to wear after every win.

boxer!𝑦uji, who pulls you into the tightest hugs after winning, careful trying not to get blood or sweat on you, but also unable to let go for like a full minute.

boxer!𝑦uji, who falls asleep immediately with his head tucked between your neck because post-fight exhaustion hits him like a truck.

boxer!𝑦uji, who gets super clingy on rest days because he’s not used to not training, so he ends up just following you around the house like:

“What’re you doing now?” “Can I come too?”

boxer!𝑦uji, who gets quiet after bad matches and won’t talk much until you sit next to him and he slowly leans into you, seeking comfort.

boxer!𝑦uji, who is incredibly gentle with you despite how violent his sport looks from the outside.

first post how we feeling? 👀

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro loved when people did things for him.

He loved when fans gave him gifts. He loved getting gifts during holidays. And he especially loved getting free samples from food establishments—he thinks the samples were deliberately put out for his enjoyment.

"How did you know I love raspberries?" Toji would smirk, winking at the innocent cafe worker before grabbing one three more samples and walking away.

But Boxer!Toji Fushiguro did not like doing things for other people. The only people he's ever willingly helped in his life was his mother, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Doing things for people meant you were below them and they were above you and that was not Toji's way of life.

Doing things for people showed you cared—which shows vulnerability which then gives the other person the impression that you like them and Toji does not like people.

Especially if he's not getting anything out of it.

So why, you ask, was Boxer!Toji Fushiguro following you around Tokyo, carrying your shopping bags as you shopped to your hearts desire?

On his card, of course.

warnings ⋮ ⌗ ┆mdni, brief mention of 18+ content !!!

toji isn’t a sentimental man, he doesn’t cry, he doesn’t let himself feel any negative emotions, if he feels something he simply turns it into anger, into seething rage that he displays in the boxing ring, a wicked grin and piercing eyes, a snarl so cruel it sends a grown man to his knees and leaves you very turned on..

but there’s one thing toji is, and that’s determined to win every match, he’s never left without a victory, and that train of good luck only started when you came into his life.

you both had just started seeing each other, it was casual, nothing more nothing less, and without thinking, when he came up during a five minute break all glistening with sweat and a grin that displayed his sharp teeth, chest rising and falling from exertion, your brain short circuited and you kissed him.

his brain also went haywire although he’ll never admit it to you.

“what the hell was that for?” he’d muttered, brows pinched together, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward like he was trying to fight it.

you shrugged, suddenly shy. “good luck kiss?”

he stared at you for a second, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek before he huffed out a quiet, “tch. dumb.” though he didn’t move away.

he won after that night, and the next after, and after that, a constant loop of victories under his belt.

all because of you, as long as he kisses you, he wins.

sure your kiss probably isn’t magical or anything, but it pumps his body full of adrenaline, makes him want to win, chasing the victory because he has to, because he wants to win when you’re watching, wants to see that look on your face when he walks back victorious.

which is why he’s currently in the ring with his coach beside him, anxiously looking towards the crowd to see if you’re there, you’re not.

toji is not a dramatic man, yet he’s panicking, utterly fucking panicking. he doesn’t think he’s ever been this anxious, leg bouncing up and down in a nervous tick, jaw tight, eyes scanning the crowd every second like if he looks hard enough you’ll magically appear.

“quit lookin’,” his coach mutters, arms crossed. “fight starts in a minute.”

toji clicks his tongue, annoyed. “shut up.”

minutes pass, and he’s about to start, and just when he’s sure you won’t arrive, sure you got caught up in something, that’s when he sees you walking towards the seats. toji looks at the timer, then at his coach’s displeased face because he already knows what toji is about to do, giving him a tiny disapproving nod. toji’s lips curl into a slightly lifted smirk as he stares at the timer now counting down to thirty seconds on the clock.

then he’s jumping off the ring through the ropes, the white rag still clutched between his calloused hands, large body barreling through the unassuming crowd, gripping you with feverish hands, movements urgent as he cages you against him inside a burning kiss, breath hot against your lips as he mutters against your mouth, “need my damn kiss.”

the crowd cheers as he pulls away, lips slick with saliva, deep obsidian blue eyes narrowed, raven hair painting his devilish features in sweat slick strands, lips tugging into a cruel smirk.

“you make me crazy, stupid woman.”

then he’s looking out to the crowd cheering, all while heat pools low in your stomach and something deep at your core tingles.

he wins that match, left with a slight gash to his chapped lip that you’re left to clean, and he’s thanking you afterwards with the brutal snap of his hips, pressed into a mean mating press, his large hands wrapped around your ankles, determined to make up for every victory you’ve handed him.

masterlist - kofi - emergency commissions

note - prob dookie, from the queue.. i wrote this four months ago lol

sensitive boxer!choso kamo may your back muscles save me.

boxer!choso kamo tanked hits in the ring. indifferent as flesh met flesh in a messy collision, pushing through whatever cheap shot his opponent threw. whether they landed or not, choso stood solid. pushing forwards to drive his fist towards their skull.

boxer!choso had to be wrangled down for proper evaluation. bloody bruising lips parted as a low string of whimpers and whines left him whenever you glided disinfectant over torn wounds. the nurse on board left to supervising your medical work. like hell choso would let them 'heal' him when all he needed was you.

boxer!choso always walked out shirtless. heavy muscles sculpted by the lights of the stadium. shadows of his body creating sharp ridges that promised unforgiving precision. a coiled legality admired in the community.

boxer!choso flushing a pretty shade of red everytime you caught him without a top. heart rewiring when hed walk from the locker room showers, grey sweats lose around his hips and hair dripping rapidly chilling water. rigid when your fingers skimmed his abdomen, smearing water into his gradually burning skin. how did you always catch him at the worst of times?

boxer!choso known to be on the.. rougher side of the fighter spectrum. slamming the other man around then kneeing him straight in the diaphragm. hold on the guy so sure ugly yellow splotches bloomed beneath his fingers.

boxer!choso kept his hands delicate outside of fights. softly caressing your hip whilst you looked over his damaged skin, fingers thumming against your back shoulder when you two waited for the press confrence to commence.

boxer!choso needed to be told to actually notice the bombard of press and frantic fangirls. somehow the echoing squeals from girls of all ages and rapid fire questions shouted into microphones didnt quite reach his ears. nor his brain.

boxer!choso turned giddy when youd coo compliments at him. well, about him. somehow overhearing you gush about him to his management team — from the other side of the ring, in the midst of a screaming crowd. twitter captioned it, 'boner kamo'. most emotion theyd ever seen from him.

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