You knew Ryomen Sukuna, but you didn’t expect him to be so forward. He was a famous boxer who was known for beating the ever-loving shit out of every one of his opponents. No mercy, that was his tagline. Every person he went up against instantly went down and ended up in a pool of their blood. It was hot, you had to admit it. He was a girl's dream. Perfect arms sculpted by gods. Veins popping out at every flex, covered in ink. Intricate designs wove back and forth between almost every crevice of Sukuna’s body, trailing up to his neck, stopping just short of his jaw. His chest was known for being rock solid and made of pure muscle mass. Six-pack, or .. maybe it was an eight-pack? Either way, it was obvious he was ripped from the tight shirts he’d sport before a match. The man’s face was even chiseled. With a jawline perfectly accentuating his square and sharp features.

‘ interview?… ‘

you never expected your first encounter to be so intimate… with him asking so nonchalantly for you to take a seat on his lap. you felt two, veiny and large hands on your body, one on your left breast, one of your waist.