𝜗𝜚 HOW THEY HIT ON YOU
─── . satoru , suguru , sukuna , kento, toji x f!reader
꒰ request : jjk men noticing you during a night out ꒱
꒰ fluff : curseless au ◞ maybe ooc Satoru and Suguru◞ mentions of reader drinking ◞ suggestive and a bit of touching w Toji ꒱ ★ taglist
࣪ ִֶָ☾. SATORU
it’s even a little bit funny the way Satoru eyes you up and down, casually sipping on a non alcoholic beverage while fixing his sunglasses, not subtle in the slightest, there is to add, not as if he actually tried.
an elbow straight into Suguru’s waist and the dark haired man groans, “fucker...”
“look at that girl over there” Satoru, again, does nothing to be subtle, motioning towards you standing at the bar with a friend.
“the one you’ve been ogling at while I talk?”
“isn’t she so pretty?”
it’s like talking to a damn wall.
“i’m going to talk to her”
yet Suguru raises a brow as if the sudden approach was not a good idea, “you sure man, she looks kinda busy with her fri—”
and he’s gone, walking with confidence and a smirk to mask the actual nervousness rushing through the white haired’s body.
“hey” is the first thing he says, elbow propped up on the bar next to you, “can I get you a drink?” eyes drop to the glass on your hand, “... another?”
that did not start well, but your smile makes up for the embarrassment, “sure” you say finally, after a second of knowing glances towards your friend, which didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru, so by reflex, the cocky smirk is back.
he orders a drink, asking for your order or perhaps if you’re feeling adventurous, “and while we’re at it... can I have your name?”
࣪ ִֶָ☾. SUGURU
“the trick is to aim for the head” Suguru casually blurts out. mansplaining? nah, he’s genuinely trying to help after watching you struggle in the claw machine for quite some time now, having come up next to you with soft, light steps that did not break your previous concentration.
the truth is, Suguru was looking at you earlier, something about your determination made him prop his cheek on a hand and look at you, entertained by your groans and complaints whenever the plushie you were trying to get just slipped past the cough, broken claw.
“this game is broken either way” you huff a laugh, turning to stare at the eyes of the stranger man, with a soft gaze and gentle smile, “wanna give it a try?”
“only if you tell me your name first” so that’s how he does it. you thought to yourself, offering a chuckle and your name before he nodded his head, “i’m Suguru”
then he’s gently moving you around, with a hand on your lower back so you’re switching positions, sliding a coin into the slot and getting into position.
it was truly not as if he tried to impress you, he did not, but... maybe... just maybe he did, pulling out all his highschool knowledge learnt from his best friends, and avoiding the part where they all shook the machine when didn’t get a prize.
“is that the one you want?” he really did not need to ask since he already saw you struggle to get it, but still waits for your affirmation before proceeding.
“you really are a magician or something” you chuckle, gripping the plushie Suguru just got for you, “thank you”
“no need to thank me... why don’t you... just give me your phone number?”
࣪ ִֶָ☾. SUKUNA
approaching you? pfft no. the... tv screen was more visible from the spot Sukuna currently sat at the sports bar, an important match was happening so the bar was crowded, and oh, coincidentally, he chose a table coincidentally closer to where you sat with other people.
when the night started, Sukuna was focused on the game, until of course, you arrived, and his heart skipped a beat.
“that guy is so into you” one of your friends giggles next to your ear, eyeing at Sukuna while you roll your eyes.
“where did you get that from?” it was obvious the man was not interested, with a lazy position, arms draped over the backrest of the booth and a leg crossed, so uninterested.
“he’s totally into you, I can sense this kind of thing, plus, he stared at you when you went to the bathroom”
that... was true, Sukuna couldn’t help and let his eyes drift from the screen and towards you, checking you out in a way that was apparently not too subtle.
but he was not desperate, he was not the one to approach first, girls fell for him, girls wanted his attention, girls that weren’t as half as pretty as you.
“fuck” he grumbles, annoyed by his own feelings while suddenly and quite unexpectedly standing up to go to the toilet, only for you to land face first into his chest as you were about to leave.
“oh, god, i’m so sorry!" you gasp, noticing the stain of food on his shirt from where your leftovers package smashed into him. and Sukuna should be mad, really, but it was so cute how you rambled apologies and clumsily wiped the stain with napkins.
“i didn’t mean it, i—”
“it was quite expensive”
...huh?, “huh?”
“the shirt” he mutters, the previous stoic expression turning into a devilish smirk, Sukuna was an idiot, watching the color drain from your face, “you better pay it back”
“i... i can tr—”
“do you have somewhere to go after this?”
࣪ ִֶָ☾. KENTO
for the blonde, there was no better way than destressing after a long day at work, then getting drinks.
hopefully without his annoying white haired coworker getting on his nerves.
he often does not care about his surroundings, that’s how he is, quietly taking his own drinks without minding everyone, until you arrive.
you look troubled, it’s been a while since you got in and sat at a table in the back, are you sad? lost? did your friends cancel on you? or are you just awfully early to meet someone?
doesn’t matter, but Kento is unable to keep his eyes off you.
he’s being nice, alright? “can I sit with you?” somehow getting up from his seat and coming to you, his smile is kind and points at the now empty table he was previously at, “i came alone, might as well have some company” he says, holding back the need to say ‘pretty company’
“of course” you know he means no harm, sitting quite far in a still polite distance while clearing his throat and engaging in small talk.
without realising the hours pass, between friendly chatter and introductions exchanged, leaving the bar with a promise of a future date.
࣪ ִֶָ☾. TOJI
“did you see the hunk standing at the back?” you and your friend giggle, not so subtly stealing glances at Toji, whose casual pose leaning against a wall and hand holding some cheap beer was enough to make most people at the bar swoon.
“you should talk to him” your friend wiggles her brows playfully, “he’s so your type”
“he’s hot, but kinda looks like a criminal...”
“you love that, don’t you?” and ouch, she was right.
and said comment did not go unnoticed by Toji, who was far but not too much as not to hear your giggling, truth is he was eyeing you for a while, eyes on how your outfit showed your body, and how he wished to come a bit closer and smell what perfume you used.
Toji has never been a man to mince his words, gulping down the rest of his beer and walking to you with a smirk and a brief flirty lick of his teeth as soon as your friend rushed to give you some privacy while still remaining within an earshot.
“have some business with me, doll?” and oh, that should not have been so hot, making you squirm and face heat from being caught.
“i um, no ...?”
“you and your friend have been looking at me for a while” she’s quick to flee after hearing that, not waiting to see how Toji’s hand casually rests on your waist, subtly and almost unnoticeable tugging you closer.
“i’d offer to get you a drink but I think you had enough” liar, he just didn’t have money, “so why don’t we get some fresh air instead?” and you fall for it, squirming and nodding at the promise of what would happen later, or perhaps, at the alley next to the bar.
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FHUCK MEEEE i need like semi-public sex with dom!choso he’s like on my mind 24/7 uhm
NEW PIN ! ꒰ 🪴 PUT THAT PUSSY ON ME𖧧˚⋆ʚɞ ── choso kamo 𝜗𝜚
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contains. 2k words + nsfw so, minors do not interact. f!reader, dom!cho, boxer!cho, established relationship, blood, sweat, semi public sex, locker room sex, f rec oral, a little ass eating (if you squint), spit, hair pulling, dirty talk, breeding, overstim, creampie, biting, cum eating.
all big-time boxers practice abstinence for at least a week before their fights; an age-old tradition that’s been torched down from talent to talent said to preserve testosterone, aggression, and most importantly, the drive to win.
it makes sense. not only on the physical side of things, but mentally. discipline — “if a player can’t handle a month or 20 days without having relations, then he’s not really ready to be a professional.”
although choso knew of this prior to becoming a fighter, his coach never actually brought it up to him until you were sat with big child-like eyes, pupils dilated as if trying to drink in every little detail, watching your amateur boyfriend practice for the first time.
it felt like a world of its own with choso sitting atop it on a blood-stained throne. the smell of leather and sweat suffused through the large dome-shaped gym, dull thuds and thumps of fists hitting bags, feet screeching sounding over music.
shirtless, choso’s muscles pumped and flexed as glossy sweat trickled down his temples, merging into rivulets that traced the contours of his face before dripping off his chin and down, down, down his battered body; each quick movement sent salty droplets flying, making dark, little circular marks on the mat.
his arms and core clenched, causing his thick biceps to swell, veins prominent beneath flushed skin like flowing riverbeds; his abs rippling with every rapid punch. the rigid meat of his heavy thighs bulged through black nylon shorts as he hopped around fluidly. dancing. it was truly hypnotic.
about halfway into his practice, you found yourself slightly tilting your head to the side in confusion as his coach moved to point at you.
me?
choso seemed annoyed, running a taped hand through his sweat-ridden hair. then he nodded before they both dispersed to start another round of sparring.
“he said i can’t fuck you anymore”
choso’s wet body clung tightly to your previously dry one, making a sticky connection as he squirted a stream of electrolyte-mixed water from a bottle he clutched with thick hands into his scarred mouth. his usually pink lips were a little red. swollen and plumped, making them jut out, begging to be kissed by your softer ones.
and he was exhausted, visibly. his body sagging when he practically mounted you as soon as he finished practicing, the musky, almost primal scent emitting from him filling your senses in a heady wave as he whined and pouted over his coach’s orders when you asked what had been said earlier, handing him a fresh towel.
“he went full authoritarian on me,” he roughly scrubbed his flushed face with the cloth before dragging it over and around his arms, then abs letting the cotton soak up his sweat, “said we can’t do anything … its so stupid, i’ve done research on it, y’know. it’s a myth”
he rambled on and on, his voice soaked in frustration, bringing up the hundreds of articles he scoured. the way he animatedly swung his arms around, bloodied lip, and still damp with sweat, made you giggle.
you leaned in to gently press a kiss to the corner of his lips. “hey, it’s okay,” you hummed soothingly, contrasting his outburst, “it’s only just before a fight. it can’t be that bad, right?”
and it wouldn’t be.
if choso’s feelings for you didn’t border obsession. he physically can’t go over a day without stuffing your pussy full of his gooey cum and he’d be dammed if some dumb ‘tradition’ that lacked the backing of science stopped him from fucking his pretty girl.
so here you are. embarrassingly parting your sticky folds with meek fingers, revealing your glossy pussy to eager, purpled eyes in the dim back corner of a stuffy locker room.
approximately … thirty seven minutes until choso’s fight.
after a verbal beating from his coach, he was, unwillingly, forced to abstain; forced to spend weeks on edge around you, to not so much as brush a finger against your soft skin because he’d get hard and shoot out hot cum untouched. and he was so close to being successful, too, but he swore he’d lose with how full and heavy his fat balls felt, nudging you into the locker room with empty promises of being “so quick”.
“just need ta taste my baby first,” his voice came out in a heavy whisper as he licked up the fat of your inner thighs, the cooled air of the cramped room circulating and brushing against your achy clit making you flinch, “poor thing .. you missed me too, hm? missed my mouth, pretty?”
“choso hur—”
“shh. ‘m not talkin’ ta you ‘m talkin’ ta her,” he was undividedly staring at your pussy as if trying to commit the filthy imagine of it leaking, clenching around nothing to memory before he rubbed the tip of his flushed nose against your pretty clit, nuzzling into that addictive scent he had been yearning for for what felt like decades.
that said, he was still taking his sweet time.
pressing almost petty pecks to your sensitive thighs, humming out a singsongy ‘aaahh’ before biting into them, leaving fresh pretty marks now that all the old ones have faded. fidgeting on his knees, probably bruising them as he drug his pudgy bulge against the tiled floor until he’s finally, finally moving to lick a long, slow stripe up your pussy, making your hips sputter and buck up against his face.
he’s so loud and messy.
eating you like he’s been starved because, well, technically, he has, “mmmmmm tas’ so fuckin’ good baby. missed— mmhhm havin’ you on my tongue”
cradling your clit with his puffy lips to firmly suck up and drool back out. viscous spit slips out from your pussy, leaving the bench all wet and sticky, so he pauses. because it’s rude to leave messes, shifting his attention from your sloppy hole to drag his tongue on the cold metal bench and clean it all up. the wet muscle brushing, slipping past your ass, making you yelp.
“choso please— hur— hurry. you’re gonna be late” with balled fists you push against his head, musing his inky black hair and if it had been under any other circumstances, he would’ve punished you for interrupting his meal. but he was going to be late, twenty three more minutes and god knows how many rounds it’s gonna take to empty his balls, so he lets you glide all over the thin ice.
just this once.
“fuck, baby, let me fuck that pussy from the front” choso stands up to shove his now tight shorts down to his ankles, his cock springing out, eagerly slapping against his stomach as precum dribbles onto his chest. “always cum so fast when m’ lookin’ at that pretty face”
he wraps his hand around his shaft to move and press his chubby tip against your little hole, scribbling all over it with a hum before leaning to spit a fat bubbly glob onto your needy pussy.
a pretty whine escapes you as you softly lift up your hips begging him to just slip it in, “quit actin so needy, ‘m riiighht here” dragging out his words, he sloowwwly lets his cockhead sink past your folds, whining at how fucking tight you are.
he missed his pretty pussy so much. so, so much.
“fuck, ‘s so big” it’s been a while since you’ve felt the stretch of his cock molding your walls to fit him making tears swell and clump up in your curled lashes as you fling your arms around the slope of his shoulders before you’re shoving your face into the side of his warmed neck.
but he said he needs to see that pretty face, so he’s quickly moving to grab a fist full of your hair, roughly pulling you back by your scalp as you squeal, your mouth falling open to let in and out deep shaky breaths, “look at me”
and he holds you there, forcing you to stare into his darkened eyes as he fully bottoms out to bully his plump, heavy cock up into you. giving you the messiest, most feral strokes. losing his mind in your pretty pussy, already twitching inside you, spilling out pearls of precum that kiss your spongy g spot.
you can’t even moan. just weakly whimpering out broken cries of his name, ”so— ch— cho ssso” as he drags his cock against your gooey walls, his left hand thumbing at your sensitive clit sparking big tears to slip down your cheeks, your eyes hazing over, starting to slip up .. and go back just a little revealing porcelain white, then a little mor-
“i said fuckin’ look at me”
he jerks your head around like some doll; again, forcing you to stare up at him as he knocks the wind out of you with every snap of his waist. and he looks dazed. his hair is messy, mussed, and tossed to his shoulders as sweat catches a few strands to curl up and stick to his temples. he’s almost pink, flushed with so much fever, fucking into your sloppy pussy as he growls, “theeeree you go. ‘m so close, baby— shit. want me to fill that pretty pussy, huh? want me to— fuuuckk pump you full of my cum? hm?��
but his feral growls start to turn into pretty little saccharine whimpers as he gets closer and closer, sputtering his rose-skinned hips, “yeah cho. give it to me— haaa mmm, wan’ it all. fill me up”
“you wan’ it all?” his grip on your hair grows tighter, vice-like, as he mocks your needy little tone with a breathy chuckle, “want me to fuck a baby into you, yeah? knock you up then go knock that fucker out?”
bobbing up and down dumbly, you nod, his words stringing in one ear and quickly out the other because it’s just so fuckin’ good.
he’s pulling you closer, closer, and closer to that edge he loves to dangle you over. “choso ‘m gonna—”
“i know, mama. can feel it. keep lookin’ at me. give it to me”
with a whimper of his name, your knees crash into each other, your toes curling as white-hot pleasure strikes like thick bolts of lightning behind your eyes.
choso’s pulling them back apart and you almost fall off the bench until he’s wrapping his thicker arms around your body to keep fucking into you, “thereee you goo, mhm. look so pretty like that baby” talking you through it so sweetly as if he’s not overstimulating you. rewiring your brain.
“shi— shit, baby fuckin’ milkin’ me .. gonna— ‘m gonna—”
groaning too loud, his hips stilled as he dumped the heavy buildup of cum into your more than welcoming pussy, his head slumping forward to bite into your shoulder and muffle himself.
he’s filling you up so well, shooting thick ropes into your pretty, satiny walls as he pulses and twitches inside you.
but he’s still so hard.
pulling out to wrap a hand around his cock, jerking himself off, roughly, it looks like it hurts, “stick your, haah fuck, stick your fuckin’ tongue out” griping as his chest caves in and heaves until he’s spilling more hot cum onto your pretty fucked out face.
his head falls back, his body swaying slightly as he catches his breath, his muscles relaxing with a heavy sigh until he leans back down to lick up his sticky mess, making you buzz with warmth, twitching at the feeling of his warm tongue. “hhnngg— choso you have to goo”
oh yeah.
he hums, a smile tugging at his lips against your skin before he reluctantly pulls back, moving to draw up his shorts, “almost forgot about that,” he grabs a handful of his messed hair to pull back up into his trademark buns, “i’ll be quick, baby. still got the taste of my good luck charm on my tongue”
not even an hour later, before you can completely clean yourself off and find your bearings, a deafening lion-like roar surges from the full crowd piercing through the thick walls of the locker room. your head quirks up, and then you hurriedly push through the door, almost jogging into the arena.
there he is.
in the center of it all looming over his opponent. the referee pulls up choso’s arm and again; the crowd erupts as the other poor soul winces, crimson-faced, red gloves covering their bloodied expression.
amidst it all, choso’s eyes find yours. he’s licking at the corner of his lips with a knowing smirk.
all big-time boxers practice abstinence for at least a week before their fights; all expect the biggest rising rookie choso kamo.
© planetsage 2024 all rights reserved. no part of this may be reproduced in any form.
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