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swingstep · 1 year

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Please drop mrd theatre au lore????

OH HOO BOY so. genuinely did not remember i never explained that au huh ksjdngd its been a hot minute since ive messed with that one, but lets see what i can dig up for it. as a disclaimer, its kind of an... abstract au, very rough around the edges as well. dont expect it to be anything too concrete WAHAHA

anyhow. tldr: the mrd theatre au is exactly what it sounds like: the plot of the game described entirely through the lens of a theater production! alternately referred to as the dance au, because... its a musical! major events are described through dance, each piece pushing the story forward with the power of music and expression. literally-- the story won’t move on without it. starring mad rat as the lead role, rat god as the director, and heart as... That One Guy, Sure!

the abstraction kicks in in its presentation though-- it's told through the framing of a stage-- however, the story itself is Real to the characters. their world is real, and as characters, they see it as such. to everyone else, it's exactly as its namesake: a play. the term "actor" and "character" go hand in hand, practically synonyms. actors are the characters. the narrative is their world. all in all: the theatre au is an inspection of the meaning of Reality and Perception, the meaning of what it is to be a Character or a Person, and a play on Stories and Roles. more under the cut.

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As it does in canon, the narrative starts with Mad Rat waking up, and Rat God telling him his situation. Y'know, he died, she's giving him a second chance, etc etc. However, she Specifically tells him that he is, in fact, a character in a play and, as someone outside of the narrative, she knows what to do and what paths to follow. As long as he followed her, he'd be able to make it to the end of his story a-ok, and finally get the ending he deserved!

In the beginning, Rat God starts out with a whole musical number as she narrates the scene (to both the audience and Mad Rat) to catch him up to speed on where he is, who she is, and why he died. As she finishes, hands off the (metaphorical) mic to Mad Rat to get a word in for his debut scene. Unfortunately, Mad Rat, having just recovered from a terminal case of Being Dead, Does Not In Fact Have The Nicest Voice. Seeing this, Rat God quickly interrupts and redirects to another option: Dance. Which is where a major quirk comes in: every character has a specialized dance style!

Rat gods style is tap/swing, which is what the intro scene Truly is! It's Rat God introducing Mad Rat to the concept of The Show in a duet swing performance. Specifically, in this performance, Rat God takes the lead role in this one for several reasons: 1) She's Extra and Likes Showmanship. 2) She's ensuring Mad Rat goes in the direction he's supposed to-- making sure he's following along. And 3) She's effectively re-teaching Mad Rat how to move after. Y'know. Being Dead. Swing is a heavily motion-focused and improvisational dance: Mad Rat Does Not Know How To Dance. However, Rat God is good enough at it that she can take the lead and turn his stumbles and missteps into motion and flair. It's essentially the tutorial stage!

The narrative is pretty much the same through the first third of the game, more or less. Mad Rat meets Heart, who doesn't really Dance but rather just cheers him on, and they begin "travelling" together, with periodical "intermissions" where Rat God, off to the side of the stage presents recaps, narration, and questions-- but it's never clear if it's to the audience or Mad Rat. Maybe both. What's really important is the Framing, though. Mad Rat (kind of) acknowledges he is just a Character, but doesn't really Understand it.

Despite the knowledge, he still functions through the frame of a Character. He perceives the stage as The World Around Him rather than A Stage, while Rat God is the opposite. This leads to Mad Rat essentially just Following Her Lead. Which ends up just seeming... brazenly reckless and incredibly dangerous-- because Mad Rat doesn't think it will lead to anything. Obviously he's the main character, so he's probably going to just... get to his goal and whatever happens happens, right? Rat God said which way the story goes so... whatever, right?

Which all culminates at Heart's intervention: Heart notices all of this and gets worried. Whatever this Mess about "shows" and "story" and "directors" is, Mad Rat is still being really really flippant about how many Near Death Experiences he's had (not to mention the whole "Seeing Things That Heart Doesn't" thing.) So he decides to step in.

This is the first time we ever see Heart dance! He'd always insisted on being moral support/backup for Mad Rat, not really stepping in in any major way. Turns out, he's really good at a lot of dance styles. It's the first time we have a music genre outside of showtunes and the adjacent. It's heart basically trying to tell him that, whatever bullshit about "Narratives" he's following, Mad Rat is still Here. He's still a contributor to the world around him-- he can affect It, and it can affect him. It doesn't matter what he knows about Whatever This Is because it all wont matter if he gets himself into Real Trouble. Which is a convenient segue to the next arc-- they go off-script.

The following arcs are pretty much just those two figuring out what to do and where they’re going. Mad Rat, up to this point, was just (kind of badly) trying to imitate the swing style from the beginning, but slowly starts figuring out his own specialty on his own. Mad Rat kind of dabbles through a lot, but is Particularly good at breakdance/krump. It’s a bit of a slow process, but he slowly forges his own place in a world he technically does not belong in.

All the while, Rat God is suspiciously quiet. They weren’t supposed to go that way, or do any of that, But she could improvise. She passively tried to mess with them from offstage-- changing the background scenery, tossing obstacles after them-- but they just. Kept going. Mad Rat even began Understanding the nature of The Stage and learning how to use that to his advantage, predicting the way things would move or shift, and using that knowledge to move even faster. It was only after Mimolette’s scene (which was Not supposed to be this early in the script, to Rat God’s chagrin,) that she Really started to get particularly miffed. They’d completely gone off-script, avoided Everything she sent after them-- but there was still an ending that needed to be told, and she was going to tell it no matter how messy it was to get there. Which leads to an intervention of her own.

As the director, she had direct control over a lot of things-- but she herself could never interact with the Narrative. She had no real Hold, as it were. She was barely a concept to the characters in the narrative-- they could not really perceive her. So, she decided to break that rule-- and interact with them directly. Rat God’s scene is incredibly similar to that in canon: Incredibly Chaotic and Hard To Track. She mostly keeps to swing, as that’s her specialty, but regularly switches it up to try and throw Mad Rat off. But things are different than their first dance.

Mad Rat has a grasp on himself and his goals. Rat God’s plan is already off its rhythm-- it was clear from the start that this was a last-ditch effort on her part to kill him. Despite her still trying to take control, Mad Rat was nothing if not stubborn. He was just as good at deflecting and navigating the scene as she was. But it’s hard to truly get rid of something like Rat God. She isn’t done until the Story was done. There was still a story to be told, so here she stayed. She could keep going as long as he could, and longer. So knowing what he did now, and understanding the circumstance, he did the only think of. The two had, to some extent, switched places: Rat God taking the stance of a Character/Participant in the scene, and Mad Rat seeing the full scope of The Stage and how it worked. The show was still going, so all he had to do was end it.

Tricking her into a monologue, he truly exits the frame of the narrative for the first time, grabbing one of the curtain ropes and letting it free, closing the curtains on the stage-- with Rat God behind them. And... silence. In the end, it was just the closed curtains, the audience, and Mad Rat and Heart in front of them. They saw the audience, truly, for the first time-- that larger force constantly watching over him from beyond his view, pushing the show forward not of their own actions, but of their presence alone. This is who it was all for. And seeing this, Mad Rat makes the decision... to ignore them.

They weren’t important anymore. The show was over-- the audience had no more use here. No more power here. They meant nothing to him. Nothing to them. He has one last talk with Heart-- they knew they weren’t alone, not truly-- but all that mattered right then was just the two of them. What they’d seen, what they’d been through-- it all had to come to an end eventually. But not by the hand of someone who had no stake in their story-- in their lives. Mad Rat gets to make his own choice about his future: And with no story left to tell... he gets up, and walks off the stage.

The Story Is Over.

#pikasks #mrd theatreAU #long post #no fandomtags we die like men #anyhow. thanks for enabling another essay of an infodump ur a real one <333 kdjgnkdjf #this au means The World to me but because its so... [waves arms around.] its very hard to explain in a way that feels Correct.#a lot of it is Vibes alone. feelings and concepts and notions of motion and song. as it is in canon too i think.#as with canon; its a play on tiers of personhood and control-- of who truly gets to choose fate; or if it really exists at all.#its about grabbing on with such fervor that the fabric of the world around you bends to your will.#about the inescapability of Role and Expectation; of Progress and Actions. how nobody in this story; truly; could choose how it ended.#not alone; at least.#rat god is equally bound to her role as director. she has no sway in this world. no matter how deeply she may want it.#the difference between her and mad rat is something tragic; to me.#two people in such similar roles reacting so differently they mirror each other perfectly.#surrender to a role you have no control of and hope it eventually benefits you-- or fight tooth and nail against forces stronger than you.#but these are the tags. im just waxing poetic at this point.#if you want a more clear read of the vibes this was inspired and started entirely by the mrd piano medley by tmsy.#please go check it out it slaughters me. id point out a specific part but its kind of all of them.#anyhow. thanks for reading and also enabling me. have a lovely day !! <33

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thehuntyhunties · 1 year

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once a year my brain fulfills a contractual obligation to get obsessed with sk8 AU kallushi again and this is currently that time

#wuzztalk #text #sk8 au #i know that everybody's inspiration comes and goes in waves #like that's a very normal thing for many people who have ideas about stuff #but my question is how many other people feel like they're on a hamster wheel of concept cycles where things slam into them for a week #and then go away again drifting entirely out of reach until the wheel spins back around #anyways i was listening to the drag mix i made for kalluto again yesterday and i was like WOW i was going thru some things in 2019 huh

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ragingstillness · 2 years

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OFMD High School Teachers AU

This came to me in a vision.

Stede’s family have been benefactors of the school for years. It’s technically a private school, but lower income students can get in on scholarships. Stede’s just continuing the tradition of giving money to the school and slapping his last name on things.

Because of the rich families funneling money into the school, they essentially get to choose the principal with all their influence on the school board, which is how Chauncey Badminton ended up the principal of a high school.

Stede remembers his own high school days as a classmate of Chauncey’s all too clearly so he’s quite afraid of the upcoming ribbon cutting ceremony for the new library he paid for. He doesn’t want to be back in that oppressive atmosphere, surrounded by snobby kids looking down on each other. He’s especially worried about sending Alma there but Mary convinces him to give it a try.

He remains concerned until Alma comes home from her first day beaming and reveals the worst kept secret in the school: the principal has zero control over the curriculum. The teachers have all banded together collectively to smile and nod at whatever Chauncey says but teach however they want. But because they teach in styles that are comfortable to them and on subjects they’re passionate about they get high test scores and Chauncey is none the wiser. The kids are also mostly nice according to Alma as the teachers have a zero tolerance policy for elitism.

Alma especially raves about her physics teacher, a man named, ironically, Edward Teach. She said after he introduced himself he gave them all three minutes to make as many jokes about his last name as they could, heard them all, then gave them several of his own.

Alma described the rest of the class as chaotic to say the least. Apparently Mr. Teach was a savant of some kind, specializing in fluid dynamics, but was also easily distracted and excitable. Like he set up a fascinating demonstration involving fire and a balloon because someone mentioned liking the balloons he had arrayed in a cabinet in all colors of the rainbow but then almost forgot to put his hair up in a hair-tie before leaning close to the flame. And he was absolutely covered in tattoos.

Stede is relieved and attends the ribbon cutting ceremony no problem. He doesn’t meet many of the teachers, mostly just other benefactors and Chauncey, unpleasant as always, but the students roaming the halls seem happy.

Alma continued to come home every day with new stories of the eccentric geniuses who teach at Queen Anne Academy.

Like the sex ed teacher, Mr. Spriggs, who’s always a little too happy to talk about his boyfriend rather than the lesson at hand but never refuses to answer a question no matter how awkward and explains everything without technical terms but with an ease to his manner that suggests he’s very comfortable and invites the students to be as well.

Or the home economics teachers, Mr. Feeney and Mr. Roach. Mr. Feeney taught sewing and wasn’t allowed to teach cooking due to, according to rumor, being a pyromaniac. Thus, he taught alongside Mr. Roach who was an excellent cook but a little too comfortable with sharp objects and therefore forbidden to teach sewing. It was an arrangement that worked well for both of them.

Or the history teacher, Mr. Boodhari, who taught history without a textbook, instead directing students to consult websites like the 1619 project and other trusted sources of modern historical scholarship that refused to deny the mistakes of the past or leave certain groups of people out of history entirely.

According to Alma, Mr. Spriggs was dating Mr. Pete, no one knew whether that was his first or last name, the football coach. Mr. Pete was an average coach by all accounts but he threw fantastic bonding nights for the team, encouraging the kids to be actual friends as well as teammates.

Mr. Ivan and Mr. Fang were the gym teachers. Mr. Ivan taught calisthenics and Mr. Fang taught weights. They were marked as unusual not for their personalities but for their propensity to work out in all black and for the belt that Mr. Fang fastened around his head like a sweat band.

The language teacher had an actual name but everyone just called him Mr. Swede because he had a very thick Swedish accent when speaking English. However, that accent completely disappeared when he was speaking any other language to the point where he sounded like a native speaker. Alma was in awe of him and Stede saw Louis get excited hearing about him too.

One day Alma came home particularly excited to tell Stede and Mary about the arts teachers. Apparently, they were infamous even among the colorful characters in the school for being completely insane. Aside from Mr. Frenchie the orchestra director, who was a lovely man who only stood out as being a bit of a klutz and for nearly dropping his lute about four times each class period.

Then there was Mx. Jimenez, the dance instructor and dance team coach. Mx. Jimenez was knowledgable about every type of dance that could be thought of, but when demonstrating for the students always preferred Persian knife dances, Scottish sword dances, and Chinese sword dances. With live blades.

The band director, Mr. Buttons, was even more eccentric. He had a pet bird he claimed was an emotional support animal and that went with him everywhere. The extra unusual part of that was that his bird was not a dove or a parakeet but a seagull that Mr. Buttons seemed to communicate with. Although Mr. Buttons did play all the band instruments he preferred to tune up the band before each practice by making disconcertingly precise drawn out tones with his own voice.

The craziest of them all was Mr. Hands, the choir director, who everyone just called Izzy. Alma summed him up neatly when she came home from her first practice: great voice, terrible personality. After meeting him at a parent teacher conference, Mary declared him to be a short angry little man. Apparently he was the only one who openly clashed with Chauncey, instead of agreeing to whatever he was saying and going behind his back later. Izzy was openly confrontational and dismissive of Chauncey but he’d been at the school so long he had tenure and Chauncey couldn’t fire him no matter how hard he tried.

After her fifth practice, Alma had witnessed one of Chauncey and Izzy’s infamous confrontations and she declared at dinner that the day Chauncey finally snaps and punches Izzy will be the best day of Izzy’s life because finally he’ll have an excuse to lay Chauncey out like a fresh corpse. Izzy may be small but he had an air about him that made it very clear he didn’t grow up in a mansion being pampered but was more likely to have been part of a motorcycle gang and unafraid to fight dirty.

Izzy was prone to tirades against Chauncey, posh society in general, and any administrators who got in his way but he was completely different around the kids. Like a gay, punk, Gordon Ramsey, Alma had said. Stede had nearly choked on a mouthful of pasta primavera. Izzy had a soft spot for shy queer kids, and was fully willing to go off on anyone, parent, teacher, passerby, who tried to insult his kids for their sexualities.

Stede was quietly relieved to learn that most every teacher at the school was queer in some way because he had been outed by someone he trusted in his childhood and Chauncey had tormented him over it. Apparently Chauncey had found out about Izzy during his first year as principal and tried to fire Izzy for “promoting an amoral lifestyle.” That night Chauncey’s office door was removed from its hinges. No obvious damage, no one on the security cameras, no signs of forced entry, the door was just there one day and then it wasn’t. The next day the door had been replaced...by a curtain of rainbow worm-on-a-strings. There had to have been hundreds of them, so tightly packed that it almost looked like a solid door. That one Chauncey tried to pin on Izzy but Izzy was slippery and denied any knowledge of it. The message had been sent anyway.

Stede himself identified as bisexual but although he was attracted to women, the way his marriage to Mary had been arranged meant that neither of them had ever developed romantic feelings for each other. It was the rare woman that caught his eye anyway. He and Mary were now comfortably divorced but still lived in the same house and coparented their children. Personally, Stede had his suspicions about Alma’s sexuality and he was happy to hear that she’d have a support structure when she wasn’t at home. Even if that support structure was made up of very bizarre people.

Despite, or perhaps because of, their lack of similarity to Stede’s colleagues, he finds himself totally fascinated by them and comes up with excuse after excuse to go to the school and observe. This is where the story really kicks off, with Ed’s class doing the egg drop parachute challenge off the roof of the school and Ed accidentally dropping an egg, no parachute at all, onto Stede’s head as he walks past. Meet cute or meet ugly? You decide.

#ofmd #our flag means death #tw homophobia mention #tw bullying #ofmd au #fanfic #potentially future blackbonnet or even steddyhands? unclear #yes Ed's specialty being fluid dynamics is based off of his ability to predict wave and cloud patterns #somehow I always think of modern stede as bi and canon stede as gay idk why #buttons as the band director is based solely off of his 'pure tone' sounding sort of like a woodwind #I don't think I left out anyone on any of the crews but if I did let me know #ngl this entire post was inspired by the image of Izzy as an angry choir director protecting a gay kid

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hyaciiintho · 9 months

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Hihi! Good morning, Adriel! Random anon here to ask Link about his completely normal hair that definitely appears in-game: Does he have a hair care routine? Is his hair naturally pretty or does he put effort into it?

🌸｡*ﾟ+. I actually started cry-laughing at the wording of this from how hard I was trying not to laugh oh my god-- ANYWAYS !!

Funnily enough, he does pretty much the bare minimum when it comes to doing anything special for his hair! His hair is naturally very wavy and wild when it comes to its curls and luscious waves, and if he brushed it first thing in the morning, it would lose a lot of its body and become straighter-- plainer.

So what he does is brushes it fresh out of a bath and lets it air-dry before heading to bed. In the morning, it's nice and lovely and wavy and he continues about his day. It's usually commented upon-- "Did you do something with your hair?"-- whenever he just rolls out of bed and does nothing with it, but when he does put conscious effort into it (brushing it, styling it, etc) it goes mostly unnoticed due to it now lacking all that natural bounce, wave, and curl-- its flair.

Go figure.

#AU | FFXIV 🌸 Hero of Time #HEADCANONS 🌸 Hero of Time #//I JUST DEFAULTED TO FFXIV SINCE IT WASN'T SPECIFIC BUT MADE MENTION OF MY JOKEY COMMENT ON MY FFXIV POST SO--#but yeah anyways this is heavily inspired by... myself... :'D as is almost everything when it comes to Link bUT ANYWAYS.#yeah true story. All throughout high school I put so much effort into my hair. I brushed it and styled it EVERY DAY.#And it was kinda straight. I also flat ironed it too so it was all nice and neat and stuff.#And then one day I was like “NO. I'm TIRED. No hair style.” and just went to school with a head full of waves and curls.#And EVERYONE complimented me like “Wow! You did your hair!!” and “I LOVE how you did your hair today!” and I was like--#“I woke up like this--” LMFAO so yeah. That's my gift to Link. Naturally bouncy and wavy hair. He wakes up like that (◡‿◡✿)#Thank you for sending this in!! I was laughing when I first saw it :'D //#🌸｡*ﾟ+. QUEUE

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earthtooz · 8 months

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x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous.

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh.

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm.

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him.

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse.

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye.

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.”

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture.

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug.

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you.

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious.

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup.

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.”

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.”

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!”

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why.

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!”

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate.

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?”

“No one. Now get lost.”

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.”

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love.

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe.

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar?

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you.

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over.

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression.

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

“What guy?”

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.”

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.”

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.”

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him.

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?”

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile.

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh.

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.”

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?”

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?”

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands.

“So why aren’t you apologising?”

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in.

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner?

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest.

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs.

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party.

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.”

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue.

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad?

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

#i didn't edit this btw don't judge #alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #fluff #alhaitham fluff #al-haitham fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #alhaitham fic #genshin fic

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yuujispinkhair · 3 months

Text

Boxer!Sukuna headcanons

Inspired by this lovely ask. Thank you so much for sending me that and making me lose my mind over Boxer!Sukuna.

Pairing: Boxer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, modern AU, smut, squirting. Mentions of boxing injuries, biting, blood. I know that boxers usually wear a groin protector, but I chose to ignore this for this AU because I wanted to write a sexy detail lol. Sukuna + Reader are in a relationship. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who always wants you by his side backstage until it's time for him to enter the arena. You are his good luck charm and the only one who is allowed to wrap the bandages around his hands before he slips into his gloves. Not that he needs any luck with the skills he has, but he loves seeing you press your sweet kisses on his boxing gloves and smile at him before you hug him tightly and tell him to please be careful.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gets a warm feeling in his heart when he sees how worried you always are. Much more nervous before his fights than he is. But he always reassures you, wrapping his muscular tattooed arms tightly around you and hugging you to his firm body while he tells you, "Don't worry, princess. You know I never lose."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who smiles while you help him get dressed before a fight, helping him slip into the white silk kimono he wears for his ring entrance show. He can clear his mind the best when he feels your gentle hands caressing over his broad back.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gives you his most charming smile before he grabs your chin and asks you for a good luck kiss, not just on his boxing gloves but also on his lips.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who always tells you he loves you before he leaves the backstage area. And hearing your "I love you, too" in return gives him another surge of motivation.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose ring-entrance show always makes the crowd go wild. The whole arena is bathed in blood-red light. A picture of an ancient shrine in a sea of blood gets projected onto the large screens. Dramatic classical music starts playing as a huge throne of skulls emerges from the fog, with Sukuna lounging casually on it, his head resting on the back of his hand. He's wearing the snow-white kimono and a crown on his pink hair, presenting himself as The King of Curses, which is his stage name.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose stage name fits him perfectly. One look at him and his powerful body and that dangerous and ambitious glint in his eyes, and everyone knows this guy is truly a King in the boxing ring.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who gracefully walks towards the ring with an arrogant look on his tattooed face, only accompanied by his assistant Uraume, who walks a few steps behind him as if they are a loyal shrine servant who follows their master obediently. They take off Sukuna's kimono for him and bow respectfully while the crowd cheers loudly.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks intimidating but beautiful as he stands there with a posture like a God while the white silk slips off his broad shoulders and reveals all the firm muscles and the sexy tattoos on his tall, athletic body.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who drops his serious act the moment he climbs into the ring and instead smirks his most charming smirk and lifts a hand to casually wave at his fans, letting them celebrate him as if he already won.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose last glance before every match belongs to you, though. As much as he enjoys the attention and worship from his fans, he always loves your gaze on him the most. You are the one who grounds him before a fight, the one who gives him the strength and the right mindset to lead him to victory.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, whose maroon eyes look directly into yours while he kisses his boxing gloves, at the same spot where your lips left their kisses a few minutes ago backstage. And right before he turns around to face the referee and his opponent, he winks at you and mouths, "I'll win this fight for you, baby".

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who already mocks his opponent before the fight even starts. Smiling tauntingly at him and asking him if he is scared. "You know, you can still run, little boy."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks so sexy during his fights. All of his attacks are powerful and well-planned. He moves gracefully through the ring, like a big cat on the prowl, beautiful and deadly. Everyone can see that he isn't someone who just relies on his brute strength. Sukuna is intelligent, and he uses his mind to win his fights.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who is both hated and loved by the judges. They hate how cocky he is but admire his skills and respect him for how well-prepared he is for his matches.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who wins most of his fights with a knockout, laughing triumphantly when the referee counts down the seconds.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who only loses fights when he gets disqualified for committing a foul. Sometimes, he bites his opponents, drawing blood with his sharp teeth and laughing as he licks the blood off his lips. You know that this is also part of Sukuna's strategy. He is too controlled to let himself get carried away during a fight, but he loves the reputation those bloody attacks give him, basking in the fear he sees in his opponents' eyes when he whispers to them before a fight, "Did you see the guy I bit last month? Let's see how your blood tastes on my tongue."

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who is brilliant at blocking punches but also cannot be stopped if he gets hit. You used to be worried sick when you saw him receiving blows to the head until Sukuna reassured you that he is allowing it on purpose. It's all for the show. And sometimes, because he craves the pain since, it will spur him on even more.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who laughs after every punch his opponent lands, smirking cat-like as he licks the blood off his cracked lip, and his wild maroon eyes glitter amusedly at the other guy: "Aww, was that all you can do, brat? Gimme more, come on! Punch me! Make me bleed for real, you coward!"

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who looks so sexy with his tattooed skin all sweaty, every muscle in his tall, strong body taut. His veins standing out, and his broad chest rising and sinking as he breathes deeply. The outline of his long, thick cock visible through his dark red boxing shorts, making you want him so much.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who wears a sexy smirk on his beautiful tattooed face when he gets declared winner. He looks deeply into your eyes when the referee yanks his hand into the air to signal his win. This first moment is always for you alone, mesmerizing maroon eyes silently telling you that Sukuna dedicates this win to you.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who then punches his fist into the air and does a little round in the ring to let the crowd celebrate him like the King that he is. He is a professional, giving his fans what they crave, even while he craves something very different at that moment after a match.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who expects you to wait for him in his private locker room backstage, naked and wet, with your legs spread, ready to get taken by him.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who takes you rough and hard. He needs to fuck you to come down again after being so pumped up during his fight. His tall, muscular body is still dripping with sweat, smelling so sexy, a mix of sweat and musk and his expensive cologne. His breath is loud and harsh in your ear, turning into low, hoarse groans as he pounds your cunt with his cock and his heavy balls, just like he pounded his opponent with his fists.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who rubs your swollen clit firmly and whispers dirty things in your ear, making sure you give him your everything and squirt all over him when you cum on his fat cock.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who coos at you and calls you his good girl, his love, as he chases his own orgasm, finally allowing himself to let go, fucking you with hard erratic thrusts, his face buried in your neck, moaning loudly until he captures your lips in a heated kiss when he shoots his hot cum into your cunt.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who cuddles you afterward, pressing himself tightly against you while he is still buried balls-deep inside you, resting his forehead against yours and thanking you for being his lucky charm and the one who gives him strength. He stays like that, pressing you down with his heavy body, kissing you tenderly until his breathing finally calms down and the sweat on his body begins to dry.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who picks you up and murmurs to you, "Hold on to me, princess," before he carries you to the shower, not letting go of you even for a second, needing his princess on his cock and in his arms.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who showers with you and lets you wash him, sighing when you massage shower gel into his taut muscles, caressing him, and cleaning him, easing the tension in his body.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who returns the favor and lets his large, calloused hands wander gently over your naked and soaped-up body while he kisses you nonstop. Who caresses another orgasm out of you while you stroke his long thick cock slowly, making him spill his seed all over your hand.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who isn't the famous boxer, The King of Curses, anymore, when he is here under the shower with you. Here he is just Sukuna, your fiancé, who is joking around with you, all playful again, grinning that sexy grin and kissing you so sweetly, whispering against your skin how much you mean to him, and asking you where you want to have a late dinner tonight.

++ Boxer!Sukuna, who fucks you once more, this time against the shower wall with your legs wrapped tightly around his hips and your hands in his pink hair. But this time, it is slow, sensual lovemaking. Slow, deep thrusts and tender French kisses until you both find completion at the same time and moan into each other's mouth. The perfect finish for a successful match.

HE IS SO SEXY 😭😭 I didn't know I would write so much for Boxer!Sukuna, but I enjoyed it so much to think of his dramatic ring-entrance show and the way he boxes, etc. I hope you enjoyed it too!!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

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