5zombei

Poly Band Au—Choso,Suguru,Nanami,Sukuna,Gojo,Toji x fem reader

It had been an entire month since the concert.

You bought tickets to their next show the same night you got home, quietly pretending to Nobara that you didn’t fall in love with their music the second the first song hit.

But you did. Badly.

The passion is what got you first…

Then meeting them made it ten times worse.

You caught yourself listening to their old albums, watching live clips, and—finally—finding their Instagram.

A million followers on every platform.

But the surprise?

They followed you back.

You didn’t even know who ran the account, but whoever it was kept liking your stories.

Only the ones with your face in them.

You had the picture Suguru took saved in your highlights, and the second you followed them, it got liked.

That was a month ago. Whoever it was hadn’t stopped since.

Now you were sitting at work, bored and drowning in paperwork, when your phone buzzed.

Nobara.

Dozens of messages.

I’m so sorry BUT I CANT GOOOO

My mom just told me I have to go down for a family emergency TODAY

Like literally TODAY

You blinked at the wall of texts as more came in, all explaining how she couldn’t go to the concert with you.

Meaning you were going alone.

You typed quickly:

You’re making me go alone…

Nobaraaaa

You knew she wouldn’t bail unless she had to, but still—

You’d never gone to a concert alone.

And you didn’t know anyone else who liked this kind of music.

Her reply came in immediately:

You’ll be fineeee

They all love you anyways

SEND ME PHOTOS AND TAKE VIDEOSSSSS

You hearted it with a sigh and tried to get back to work.

Eventually your shift ended, and on the drive home you were already stressing about what to wear.

This was one of their low-capacity shows. A tiny venue—way smaller than last time.

Close stage, concrete floors, and a reputation for fans jumping up toward the end of the set.

Tickets were impossible to find but you managed.

By the time you got home, you had plenty of time to get ready.

You ate, showered, did your hair and makeup, and then… stood at your closet for a full ten minutes debating why you were suddenly treating this like a date.

You went through five outfits before landing on something decent.

Now you had an hour to spare.

The venue was forty minutes away, so you grabbed your bag and headed for the door—

when your phone buzzed.

You glanced down.

BlackLanternOfficial:

Hey first timer, you still coming to tonight’s show?

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

You didn’t open it—you screenshot it first.

Sent it to Nobara immediately.

Her response was instant and unhinged.

All caps.

A million questions.

You answered half of them before she freaked out again.

She knew the account followed you, but messaging you?

Tonight??

You asked her what to say, then finally typed back:

Ofcc but it’ll just be me this time. My friend had a family emergency.

You sent Nobara the screenshot. She hearted it before you even locked your phone.

Another buzz.

I’m sorry to hear that

But I hope you have a good time

The message felt way too genuine.

Like someone was deliberately being… soft?

It made you second guess everything.

Was it Gojo?

He seemed chaotic enough.

Or Suguru—he had the vibe.

Maybe even Choso or Nanami. Hell, maybe it rotated.

You shook it off. You needed to leave.

You locked your door and walked to your car, almost forgetting about the message until Nobara brought it up again when you called her.

She couldn’t believe it.

Honestly, neither could you.

But soon you hung up because you had pulled into the venue.

And it was way more packed than you expected.

You stepped out, ending the call with a quick, “Love you, bye,” before putting your phone away.

Same routine as last time—metal detectors, ticket scan, walk through the gate.

It was already nighttime, but the venue lights made everything glow.

People were moshing even though the band wasn’t on stage yet, which only made your anxiety spike.

The space was tight.

Really tight.

But you pushed through anyway, weaving between people until you reached the front—

hands gripping the railing, breath steadying, heart thumping.

You made it.

And now all you could do was wait.

The lights snapped on, strobing over the crowd as everyone surged forward, screaming. The curtains dragged open and the stage filled with them—exactly how you remembered.

Gojo at his mic.

Suguru to his left, guitar strapped low.

Choso deep right behind the drums.

Sukuna and Toji on the opposite side.

And dead center, Nanami—calm, collected, golden under the lights.

They launched straight into their newest song and the room exploded.

People were jumping, shoving, waving their phones in the air with the flash on, already drenched in sweat even though the show had barely started.

You kept still, letting the sound hit you full-force. Last time you were close—but not this close.

You were practically at their feet. You could feel the speakers thrum in your ribcage, feel the railing vibrate under your palm.

The lights swept across their faces, catching on sweat, piercings, instruments—making them look unreal, like they were glowing.

Every beat from the drums rattled through the floor.

Choso was a machine at first—slamming the snare, foot tapping, keeping perfect tempo.

His eyes scanned the crowd without really seeing anyone.

Then his gaze snagged on you.

He froze—not visibly, but you felt it. His brow twitched, his throat bobbed, and for half a second he fell a hair off-beat.

You saw the moment he panicked, correcting himself with a harder hit, hair whipping forward as he jerked his head and forced himself back into rhythm.

The reaction was so quick the crowd didn’t notice. But you definitely did.

The floor shook with the bodies around you, everyone jumping in sync, screaming lyrics. You gripped the railing tighter as the energy swelled around you like a wave.

Your heart kicked up because that wasn’t the first time you’d seen him do that—the glancing, the quick flutter of his eyes, the momentary slip.

But you pushed it away. You weren’t about to become one of those die-hard fans who swore a single glance meant something.

You kept listening, getting jostled from every angle as you held onto the railing.

Satoru was singing with full force, hair already pushed back by his own fingers. Every time he smiled, the girls around you screamed.

Then his eyes swept over the mass of people and… stopped on you.

He winked.

You felt the floor tilt—not from the crowd, but from the way he did it so casually, like he’d been looking for you.

He ripped the mic off the stand and moved down the stage, leaning into cameras and grabbing people’s phones while he kept singing.

Then he made it to your side.

Still mid-verse, he knelt, and the fans surged forward so hard you slammed against the railing. But his eyes stayed locked on you—like you were the only steady thing in the chaos.

For a split second, you didn’t feel delusional.

Then the bass ripped through the venue, loud enough that Satoru stood and moved back to center stage.

Sukuna took over, fingers flying.

The lights washed over him, turning his tattoos blue and pink, hair whipping with every violent strum.

He looked like he was trying to start a war with his instrument.

He kept getting louder.

Too loud.

Nanami shot him a sharp look. It did nothing.

Sukuna just smirked, rolling his eyes toward the fans chanting, “WE LOVE YOU RYO!” before he tossed his head back again—hair flying—right as Toji joined him, matching his energy beat for beat.

Together they drowned out the vocals for a moment.

Suguru didn’t fight it. He kept singing, rings wrapped around the mic, necklace catching the lights, his hair falling over his shoulders as he scanned the crowd.

Phones everywhere.

Flashing lights.

Screaming fans.

And then—there was you.

A tiny space without a single phone in the air, just you staring up at him with this look… like you were actually listening. Really listening.

His voice strengthened when your eyes met, the line coming out smoother, fuller—before he forced himself to look away.

Nanami, dead in the center, looked pissed. Everyone was playing different tonight, and he knew exactly why.

Satoru had texted you because Toji dared him.

“You’re too pussy to follow her,” Yuji snorted from the couch.

“Oh yeah?” Gojo fired back. “Watch me.”

Everyone crowded around him—everyone except Nanami, who sat in the corner tuning his guitar and judging everyone in the room like a dad forced to chaperone toddlers.

“All of you need to stop,” Nanami muttered. “We have a set to rehearse.”

Sukuna slapped his shoulder as he passed. “Chill out, man. You’ll get your turn with her too.”

He walked off laughing, ducking his head as he peeked at Gojo typing.

“follow her, pussy!” Sukuna barked.

Then the whole bus joined in.

“Follow her, follow her, FOLLOW HER!”

The walls were shaking with their chanting until Gojo slammed his thumb down and followed you back on there official account. He shot to his feet.

“Now who’s the pussy?”

Suguru doubled over laughing. Gojo stuck out his tongue like a child. Sukuna wheezed. Choso even chuckled.

Nanami just rubbed his temple, regretting his entire career.

Ever since that night—the first show you attended—they hadn’t shut up about you. Every single one of them.

And as much as Nanami hated to admit it… sometimes he joined in.

Suguru lounged back in his chair, hoodie and sweats, spinning his pick between his fingers.

“I’m telling you,” he laughed, “she was cuter than her friend.”

Satoru leaned on the desk. “Both were cute, but yeah—she had a vibe.”

“What? That she wasn’t a deranged fan?” Suguru smirked.

Nanami snorted under his breath.

Toji chimed in from across the room. “Yeah, while you two were flirting, me and Choso had front-row seats to all that shit.”

Choso looked up from his drums, deadpan.

Toji crossed his arms. “Then Ken ran onto the bus like his ass was on fire.”

Nanami glanced up. “We had to leave for the next city.”

Gojo smirked at Toji. “Don’t act like you would’ve talked to her. You were too busy smoking your lungs dry.”

Toji grabbed Gojo by the shirt. “What the hell did you say?”

“Fight, fight, kiss!” Sukuna yelled as he walked in, bass over his shoulder.

Everyone cracked up—even Nanami.

Toji dropped Gojo with a scoff, turning to Sukuna. “Where the hell have you been for four hours?”

“My business,” Sukuna said, shrugging off his bass.

Suguru spun in his chair. “Business as in… fucking?”

Nanami even laughed at that one.

Sukuna glared. “Sorry I’m not acting like the rest of you, getting my dick wet over this girl you’re all obsessed with.”

Gojo barked a laugh. “Don’t act like you weren’t eyeing her. We all saw your little stunt.”

Choso lifted his gaze. “Satoru’s not wrong.”

Sukuna turned on him. “And you’re one to talk—you almost broke your damn drums slamming those sticks.”

“Oooooohhhh—” Gojo sang.

“SHUT IT!” Sukuna roared.

Silence.

He grabbed his lighter and headed for the door.

“I’m going to smoke. Can’t deal with you idiots.”

Door slam.

Suguru snorted. “We hit a nerve.”

Toji smirked. “He talked about her all the way here. Fucking narc.”

Sukuna lit his cigarette, exhaling into the cold night. “Fucking assholes,” he muttered.

The door creaked open. Choso stepped out.

Sukuna’s lip curled. “What the hell do you want?”

“To smoke,” Choso said simply, pulling out his own cigarette.

“I’m not lighting that for you.”

Choso just stood there.

Waiting.

Staring.

Sukuna groaned and flicked his lighter open. “You’re annoying.”

Choso inhaled deeply, smoke curling from his mouth.

They stood in silence.

Sukuna finally broke. “So… what do you think of her?”

Choso blinked. “Who?”

Sukuna bumped his shoulder. “Don’t play dumb.”

Choso cracked a smile. “She’s cool. But none of us even talked to her except Suguru and Satoru.”

Sukuna stayed silent.

Choso sighed, exhaling smoke. “It’s all lust until they actually know her.”

Sukuna nodded but didn’t say a word. He flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it.

“She is bad though,” he added, grinning.

Choso laughed. Sukuna pushed his shoulder. “Come on. Practice.”

He walked inside, letting the door fall shut behind him.

Choso stayed there one more second, inhaling. Thinking.

Thinking about you.

About how you looked at him. About how you noticed him.

He dropped his cigarette and crushed it, then finally went back inside.

The band wasn’t taking a single break—one song crashed straight into the next.

By the time the opening chords hit, you realized this was already the last one.

You were a little bummed… and also a little guilty.

You hadn’t taken a single photo or video for Nobara.

So you finally pulled out your phone.

Holding it sideways with both hands, you moved your hips to the tempo, trying to get a good angle.

Gojo noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

His eyes snapped right to the glint of your screen, and his whole expression changed—mischief.

He wanted to put on a show for you.

And he did.

He started roaming the stage, touching fans’ hands like he always did, pretending he wasn’t slowly making his way toward you with a plan.

Then he reached you.

He ignored your camera completely and stared straight at you instead.

You barely had time to react before he leaned down and gently slid your phone right out of your hands.

He ended your recording, flipped the camera, and started singing into your phone like it was his personal spotlight.

People around you SCREAMED.

Phones shot up in the air. Girls were losing their minds hoping he’d take theirs too.

Your face burned as he moved from member to member.

He pointed your phone at Suguru first.

Suguru grinned into the camera with that lazy half-smile before taking your phone, letting Gojo return to the mic stand and wink at the crowd like it was scripted.

Fans were practically jumping.

Suguru took your phone to Toji next—Toji dragged his fingers over his guitar strings and stuck his tongue out at the lens right before

Sukuna shoved in beside him, dragging his fingers dramatically along his bass like he was trying to steal the moment.

Suguru rolled his eyes mid-verse, laughing into the mic before taking the phone and passing it to Nanami.

Nanami gave the softest, quickest smile and went right back to playing, like he didn’t want to break rhythm.

Then Suguru moved to Choso.

Choso didn’t just smile—he lit up. He started slamming his drumsticks down, yelling over the music,

“Leave the phone on my stand!”

Suguru shrugged and propped your phone up on Choso’s drum stand, camera facing him. Then he walked back to center stage… without your phone.

Your brows knit together. Before you could panic, a girl beside you screamed,

“GIRL—YOUR PHONE IS WITH CHOSO!”

You snapped your head up.

Choso was staring straight at the phone, smiling like it was a secret between you two… before whipping his head to the side and drumming like a man possessed.

His arms flexed, veins popping, sweat rolling down his forearms. He closed his eyes and just let go, hands moving so fast it made you dizzy.

You tried to enjoy the moment—really—but your stomach kept dropping. The song was ending. Your phone was still on stage.

Lights strobed. The last chords hit—Nanami’s guitar, Sukuna’s bass.

Then Gojo yelled into the mic:

“That was our last song! Thank you! Black Lantern is OUT!”

The curtains closed.

Your heart fell straight through the floor.

Your phone.

Your fucking phone.

You shoved through the crowd immediately.

“Sorry—excuse me—sorry!” Sweat, elbows, bodies everywhere. You made it outside and tried not to look like someone seconds away from a crisis.

You ran around the building until you finally spotted a back exit. You walked toward it, breathless, just as it swung open.

The band spilled out laughing.

Gojo chatting with Suguru.

Toji running a hand through his hair.

Sukuna muttering something to Toji with an annoyed face.

Nanami was last. And he had your phone in his hand.

“My phone,” you blurted.

All of them turned.

Nanami looked down, then up—eyes widening just a fraction when he saw you up close. Your dewy skin, your skirt, your flushed cheeks from running.

“Oh—sorry. Here.” He handed it over gently.

You smiled, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I just—I thought I’d miss you guys.”

Toji glanced at Sukuna. Sukuna subtly elbowed him out of the way so he ended up beside Nanami, towering over you.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Sukuna said, voice rough.

“Yeah… and you’re…?” His eyes widened—then you laughed.

“I’m joking. I know who you are. Ryomen, right?”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah.”

Up close, he couldn’t help it—your voice, your grin, your energy. You were even cuter in person.

“How’d you like the show?” he asked, arms crossing over his chest.

Your eyes dropped immediately.

Holy shit his arms.

Veins everywhere.

And up close, his pink hair almost matched—

Yeah.

You caught a glimpse of his happy trail.

He noticed your eyes lingering and chuckled.

You snapped back up. “It was really good. The venue was just… small.”

He nodded as Nanami slipped quietly onto the bus.

Sukuna thought it was funny—he’d spent half the show getting annoyed that the others noticed you. And now he was the one flirting.

“You wanna meet everyone? Like—properly. Not just those two clowns?” he said as Gojo waved dramatically.

“Hey, pretty!” Gojo yelled.

You waved back, cheeks burning.

Sukuna shot Gojo a death glare before turning to you again.

“C’mon. We’ve got fifteen minutes before we leave.” He paused. “Unless your boyfriend’s waiting.”

You laughed.

Hard.

His brows pulled together.

“No boyfriend here.”

He dragged a hand over his mouth. “Even better. C’mon.”

You followed him up the steps.

“Ladies first,” he murmured behind you.

You climbed up, your skirt lifting just enough that Sukuna licked his lips.

Inside, every band member looked at you. Your heart pounded.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Toji said as he walked over.

Sukuna stood right behind you, basically blocking Toji’s view of your lower back.

You smiled. “It’s really nice in here.”

The posters, the lounge area, the tiny kitchen—everything looked lived-in but warm.

Toji grinned. “Wanna see something even nicer?”

You nodded without thinking.

“Follow me doll.”

All of them watched Toji whisk you away, Sukuna huffing like a pissed guard dog.

Toji led you toward the back lounge, his hand coming to rest dangerously low on your waist as he guided you through the narrow bus aisle. His palm was huge and warm, his fingers spreading across your hip like he had every right to touch you like that.

Toji led you toward the back lounge, his hand coming to rest dangerously low on your waist as he guided you through the narrow bus aisle. His palm was huge and warm, his fingers spreading across your hip like he had every right to touch you like that.

“You ever held a real guitar?” he asked over his shoulder.

You shook your head, your voice caught in your throat.

“No.”

“Good.”

He smirked. “Means I get to teach you.”

The lounge was dim, lit by the soft yellow glow from the tiny overhead lights.

A few of the guys’ instrument cases lay open on the couch.

Toji reached for his black electric guitar—heavy, sleek, and definitely expensive—and set it across his lap.

Then he leaned back and patted his thigh.

“Right here.”

You blinked.

“On your—?”

“On my leg,” he repeated, slow and teasing. “C’mon. Don’t be shy now.”

You moved closer hesitantly. Your breathing was shallow, your stomach fluttering.

You were halfway through lowering yourself gingerly onto the very edge of his knee—

Toji didn’t let you.

Large hands slid around your waist, and in one smooth pull he brought you fully onto his thigh, seating you flush against him.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

You grabbed onto his shoulder instinctively, feeling the solid strength under your palm.

“See?” he murmured, his breath brushing your cheek. “Fits just right, like I knew it would.”

Your face burned.

He lifted your hands and placed them on the guitar’s body, guiding your fingers like he’d done it a thousand times.

His hands were warm—almost too warm—and he kept them on yours a little longer than necessary.

“This is where you hold it,” he said, leaning in until his lips were near your ear. “Not here.”

He slid your hand an inch lower.

“Here’s better. Feels steadier, yeah?”

You nodded, unable to speak.

He chuckled softly—low and appreciative—before adjusting your posture again. His thigh flexed under you, and you felt every bit of it.

But behind you, another presence was building.

You could feel Sukuna staring first.

Then you heard him scoff under his breath from across the bus.

Toji smirked without looking up.

“He’s watching,” he whispered, lips curling. “Good.”

His proximity made it impossible to ignore the way his arm pressed against you, the heat of his body, and you couldn’t help but glance down.

Noticing the curve of his arm and the way his muscles flexed as he adjusted your hands.

Your heart was racing, your breath shallow, as Toji’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Noticing the curve of his arm and the way his muscles flexed as he adjusted your hands.

You froze.

Sukuna pushed off the counter and walked over, slow and irritated like each step annoyed him more. His jaw was tight, tattoos catching the dim light, his bass slung over one shoulder.

Toji tightened his grip on your waist deliberately, pulling you closer onto his thigh—as if claiming a spot.

Sukuna stopped in front of you two.

“Well?” Sukuna said, voice low. “You done hogging her?”

Toji shrugged lazily.

“Nah. She seems comfortable.”

“I’m not asking,” Sukuna muttered.

Before you could react, Sukuna hooked two fingers into the waistband of your skirt touching your skin under your waistband, close enough to make your breath hitch—and pulled you off Toji and toward him.

Your hands flew to Sukuna’s chest for balance.

Toji actually stood up halfway like he might swing. He shifted you gently but firmly onto his thigh, tilting you slightly so you faced him.

Your hadn’t wore shorts under your skirt and Sukuna knew—only because he looked up your skirt when you walked onto the bus.

And maybe because he could see your ass on his thigh, which was making him way more excited then he would like to attempt.

Your hands trembled slightly as Sukuna’s hands covered yours, strong, guiding, brushing over your skin just enough to make your knees weak.

His chest pressed lightly against yours, the heat from his body making your heart hammer.

His pink hair brushed your temple as his presence enveloped you, and you could feel the almost tangible tension between him and Toji.

Toji growled softly, pacing slightly behind you, clearly struggling not to grab you back. Sukuna noticed and smirked, leaning in closer.

“Hand on yours,” he whispered, guiding your other hand so both of your hands were in his. “Fucking natural, atta girl.”

Your stomach dropped hearing the praise as you laughed and followed his lead.

Every move Sukuna made was teasing, possessive, claiming this moment for himself.

You gasped slightly as he leaned just a bit more, lips brushing your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

Your skirt rode up a little more, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes briefly flicked down, though his voice remained low and intimate.

“See? Much better when I do it,” he murmured, and your breath hitched.

Toji’s hands flexed at his sides, muttering under his breath, and Sukuna only laughed, low and dangerous.

As his nose brushed against your temple just a fraction longer before finally letting you go… just as Nanami’s calm voice cut through the tension.

Nanami approached, hands in his pockets, expression neutral.

“We leave in 5,” he said politely.

You glanced between Toji and Sukuna, both standing near, eyes flicking toward you like they weren’t finished.

He paused. “I’ll walk you. Just to make sure you get through safely.”

He said it so simply—so neutrally—that it almost sounded believable.

Except everyone knew it wasn’t.

Toji smirked knowingly.

Sukuna rolled his eyes.

Choso tapped his drumstick twice, like he was calling bullshit.

And Nanami absolutely knew that you knew…

but still, you nodded.

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

Before you stepped off the bus, Suguru appeared from the hallway with something in his hand.

“Here.”

He handed you a shiny backstage pass. “Next show. Free.”

Your eyes lit up. “Wait—could I maybe get one more? My friend would—”

Gojo immediately stuck his head out of the kitchen area.

“Sorry, gorgeous, we only got one!”

He winked, way too dramatically.

You tried not to look disappointed. “No, it’s okay. Really thank you.”

Nanami guided you out of the bus, walking beside you like a quiet shield.

When you were out of earshot, the second the door closed—

Sukuna turned his head toward Suguru.

“You know damn well you had another pass.”

Suguru shrugged, leaning back casually against the counter.

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “But then someone else would’ve brought her next time.”

Sukuna paused.

Suguru raised a brow.

“Figured you’d prefer if she came alone.”

Sukuna didn’t answer.

He just clicked his tongue and looked away, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him—

Poly au—Choso,Nanami,Toji,Sukuna,Suguru,Gojo

“You’re really dragging me to some band?” you asked as Nobara unlocked her front door.

“Yes! I have an extra ticket, and I think you’ll like a few of their songs,” she said, already pulling you inside.

“Isn’t it tonight?” you asked.

“Yeah, that’s why we need to get ready right now—c’mon!” she grabbed your hand and dragged you toward her room.

“Okay, one thing,” she said, plopping onto the carpet with a grin, “everyone in this band is super hot.”

You blinked at her. She jumped up and started rifling through her closet. “I already have like ten outfits I want to try, but for you…”

“I can just wear what I have on,” you said, spinning around. You were in comfy clothes from your earlier shopping trip—sweats and a baggy shirt.

Nobara squinted at you. “Yeah, no. I’m not letting you embarrass me like that.”

You laughed. “Wow… I’m going to embarrass you?”

“Yes! I’ve been a fan since I was seventeen, and I’m still going crazy over them in my twenties.”

“You’re like twenty-five going crazy over a band?”

“You’ll be too when you see how good they play,” she said with a wink.

You leaned back on your hands. “If you say so,” you murmured. The show was at nine, and it was already seven.

“Okay, I have this shirt from their last show—here!” she tossed it at you. You caught it; the neckline had been cut so it hung off one shoulder, the band’s logo bold across the front.

“I’ll just wear this with my sweats…” you mumbled.

“Nooo! I have some shorts you can borrow,” she said, digging through her closet. “They’re black, so they’ll match.”

You waited while she rummaged, and finally she held them up. “Here—go put that on while I get dressed and do my makeup.”

Nodding, you walked to the bathroom and changed. The shirt hung loosely, a soft baby tee, and the shorts rested low on your hips. You felt… exposed, but not horribly so.

When you walked back, Nobara was already dressed in a red tank top with the band’s logo, the back listing all the shows she’d attended that year. Her black leather shorts made her look effortlessly cool.

“Are these shorts too much?” you tilted your head.

“It screams you, so no,” she said with a smile. Then she gasped. “Wait—that actually looks good on you! Okay, now for makeup and hair.” She jogged past you, leaving you to follow.

She put on music from the band as she styled her hair, singing along while you perched on the toilet chatting with her. Before you knew it, you were driving toward the venue.

“We have really good seats—like, the both of us will be in the mosh pit,” she said.

“Great… so I’m going to get punched in the face,” you muttered.

She laughed. “Nope! Mostly girls mosh. Some guys do, but it’s usually with their girlfriends.”

After an hour, you were finally in line. Nobara’s eyes darted everywhere. “Oh my gosh, look at all these people!”

“Are they that popular?” you asked.

“Um, yeah! And look, there are more guys than usual this time.”

Your tickets scanned, Nobara grabbed your hand and led you through the crowd. “Hold my hand—it’s easy to get lost in the pit.”

“Okay,” you said, gripping her fingers as she navigated through the sea of fans.

“Shit, it’s already packed,” she murmured, spotting a small space near the railing. “Oh look! Perfect spot—right in front of the stage!”

“Other than everyone touching me, it’s a good spot,” you said.

She laughed. “Worth it when you see them play, I promise.”

Before you knew it, the lights flashed on and you could feel the floor start to shake as the sound of screaming girls filled your ears.

Nobara was one of them, shouting and jumping like a maniac, and you had to laugh at her energy. You watched as the curtains slowly parted, and the stage came into view, glowing under the bright lights.

The first bass note hit, low and heavy, and your heart skipped. That’s when you noticed the first pair of eyes on you—Toji, standing in the back, leaning slightly over his bass, watching you with that subtle, unreadable glare.

A flash of a smirk caught your eye next—Sukuna, fingers already on his guitar strings, clearly amused by your wide-eyed stare at the stage.

Satoru leaned into the microphone, grinning as he winked in your direction. Your stomach flipped, and Nobara elbowed you. “See? I told you!”

Suguru, quiet and composed, adjusted his headphones, but you caught him glancing your way, noticing how you were clutching the railing.

Choso’s eyes lingered on you from behind the drums, calm but intense, like he was cataloging every movement you made.

Even Nanami’s gaze flicked toward you for a moment before he returned his attention to the sheet music, pretending he hadn’t noticed you at all.

Your heart was already racing—and the band hadn’t even started playing yet.

Nobara yelled and jumped along with the crowd, her excitement infectious. You leaned on the railing, trying to keep your balance as the bass thumped through the floor. The lead vocalist gripped the mic stand, eyes closed, pouring everything into the opening verse.

Leaning toward Nobara, you shouted, “Who’s everyone?!”

She waved toward the stage. “Okay, the singer is Satoru, the drummer is Choso, the guitarists are Toji and Sukuna, the other vocalist is Suguru, and the guy off to the side playing rhythm guitar is Nanami.”

You followed her gestures, trying to take it all in.

Toji strummed carefully, focused on his strings, glancing toward the crowd every now and then—but never directly at anyone for long.

Sukuna shifted on stage, smirking at something you couldn’t see. Satoru tossed a grin at a section of the audience, catching the light as he leaned into the mic.

Suguru’s voice blended smoothly with the rest, calm and steady, and you noticed him glance briefly in your direction before returning to singing.

Choso’s drumming was reckless, his eyes scanning the crowd occasionally, and Nanami played quietly off to the side, his rhythm steady, eyes moving across the stage and crowd without lingering.

Nobara pushed back to the railing, shouting the lyrics, and you held on tight, letting the heat and movement of the crowd wash over you.

The music was overwhelming, but in the best way—your heart raced, your ears rang, and you couldn’t help listen and nod your head a little.

The bass hit again, and you stumbled slightly as someone bumped into you from behind. “Hey—sorry!” someone shouted over the music, spinning around to see a girl with bright purple hair smiling apologetically.

Nobara was already dancing—totally oblivious to the push and shove around her.

You gripped the railing, trying to find your footing, when a guitar riff sliced through the noise.

Your ears tracked the sound instantly, and you found him—Toji.

A fitted black shirt stretched across his chest, sweat dripping down his temple as he stared down at his guitar like he was trying to kill it.

Nobara shook your arm, practically vibrating.

“Can you believe the drummer?”

You followed her gaze. Choso.

Hair in two messy pigtails, sleeves cut off his shirt, dark strands stuck to his forehead from sweat. Tattoos wrapped around his forearms as he twirled his drumstick so effortlessly you wondered how it didn’t fly out of his hand before he slammed down hard on the snare.

Your heart flipped—literally flipped—right when he looked up and locked eyes with you. His gaze dropped the next second, but it was enough.

Nobara gasped like she’d witnessed a proposal.

“DID HE JUST—OH MY GOD!”

You shook your head, laughing.

“He did not.”

“He just looked at you!” she yelled, loud enough for the whole front row to hear. Your face heated immediately.

“Not true.”

She rolled her eyes like you were delusional and grabbed your waist, forcing you to jump with her to the beat.

When the band finally took a break, you and Nobara escaped to the stands for drinks.

“So?” she asked as you waited in line. “Tell me everything.”

“I liked it,” you admitted. “And… you weren’t lying.”

She grinned like she wanted to say I told you so but was trying to be respectful for two seconds. “I told you they’re all hot. You didn’t believe me.”

You snorted as the vendor called her next. She paid for two beers and two hotdogs—even though you literally fought her on it.

Now you sat together at a tiny metal table, surrounded by people grabbing drinks and merch.

“I swear they were all looking at you,” she said through a mouthful of hotdog.

You rested your elbows on the table, clutching your beer.

“They were looking at everyone.”

She shook her head aggressively. “No. No. I swear I even saw Sukuna look at you. Not to mention Choso. You cannot tell me the two of you didn’t make eye contact.”

You looked away, which answered her fast.

She squealed, “I knew it.”

You sipped your beer to cool your face down while she dragged you toward the merch tables.

She bought everything. Hoodies, shirts, baby tees—“All small please!”—tapping her phone like a woman possessed.

“Nobara,” you hissed when you saw the total. Two hundred dollars.

She spun around proudly. “They’re my favorite! What did you expect?”

You stared at the bag in her hand. She didn’t even look guilty.

“Come on! They only have two songs left!”

She grabbed your hand and pulled you back into the mosh pit.

People were flipping, jumping, forming circles—it was chaos. The lights flickered, and everyone’s attention snapped to the stage.

They’d changed outfits.

Suguru was first—you spotted the mesh long sleeve, tattoos peeking through the holes, hair tied back and sticking to his neck.

Next to him, Sukuna—absolutely shirtless except for a black fishnet that did nothing to hide all the ink covering him.

Nobara was practically foaming at the mouth.

“Wait, isn’t the pink-haired one Sukuna?” you asked.

She nodded so fast her hair bounced.

“Yes. And he gives total asshole energy. Like… complete fuckboy. But look at him! He’s just so—ugh!”

She looked moments away from fainting.

The show exploded back into motion. Sweaty bodies pressed around you, your hands gripping the railing while you tried not to get knocked over. You watched every member, finally understanding why Nobara worshipped them—every one of them was stupidly hot.

Even the blonde guy, Nanami, who somehow looked like he didn’t want to be there and still managed to look good.

Then there was Gojo Satoru, front and center. Vocals, dripping sweat, hair sticking up despite everything.

He stared right at you and Nobara. Smiling.

Nobara screamed like she was being murdered.

Then he looked directly at you and winked.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Nobara grabbed your face with both hands.

“NO WAY—NO FUCKING WAY!”

You laughed, flustered. “That’s what guys do at these things, right?”

She rolled her eyes and kept filming like she was documenting a crime scene.

As they hit their last songs, your head buzzed from the noise, but your eyes kept drifting back to Suguru. Long black hair, lip piercings, and—was that a tongue piercing?

His voice blended with Gojo’s perfectly.

Then the bass shook your ribs.

Sukuna.

Sweaty, half naked, rings on every finger, black nail polish chipped at the edges. He shoved Gojo playfully, and Gojo rolled his eyes like it was routine.

Nobara shouted, “He does that every show!”

Sukuna walked forward, muscles flexing, and got dangerously close to the crowd.

Girls screamed.

He looked down at you.

And smirked.

Then he tore into a solo, fingers moving impossibly fast while he kept glancing between you and the strings.

Nobara was already filming you.

The lights dropped. The final chord hit.

Gojo grabbed the mic.

“That was our last song—let me hear it!”

The crowd roared.

He slung an arm around Sukuna, who glared.

“I think the bass has something to say.”

Sukuna snatched the mic.

“Fuck yeah!”

The place erupted.

Gojo laughed, took the mic back. “Too cocky for his own good.”

His eyes flicked to you.

“Hope everyone had a great night. Black Lantern is out!”

The curtain dropped.

His eyes stayed locked on you until the fabric fully closed.

The lights came on. Nobara grabbed you.

“That was AMAZING!”

When people began clearing out, she dragged you outside.

“You can sometimes catch them before the bus—come on!”

You ran together, breathless, hair flying—until Nobara stopped dead.

“Look!”

They were all there.

Choso and Toji leaned against the bus smoking, smoke curling in the night air. Gojo turned first.

“Well, well. You two here for us?”

Sukuna glanced over—eyes dragging slowly across your bare stomach and the band tee tied up around your waist.

You pretended not to notice.

Nobara stepped forward confidently. “Yes! You guys were insane tonight.”

Gojo grinned and took her hands. “That means a lot. Real fans, huh?”

She laughed and elbowed you.

“This was actually her first show.”

His eyebrows lifted. He looked at your outfit again.

“And here I thought you were a die-hard fan.”

You laughed. “Is it the shirt?”

He nodded. “It’s the shirt.”

Suguru walked over, arm slung around Gojo’s shoulders.

“And who’re these two?”

He looked straight at you.

Gojo chuckled. “First timer.”

Suguru hummed. “So what’d you think?”

You suddenly felt like the spotlight was back on you.

“It was good,” you said quietly.

Nobara groaned, “She means amazing.”

Nanami poked his head out of the bus—tired, hair messy.

“We have to go,” he announced. He looked at you once, unreadable, then disappeared back inside.

Sukuna climbed in first. Choso and Toji stamped out their cigarettes and followed.

Gojo sighed.

“Looks like we’re heading to the next city. But it was great meeting—?”

“Nobara,” she said instantly. “And she’s—”

You said your name.

Gojo’s grin widened. “Our first timer.”

Suguru licked his lip slowly.

“Well, first timer… want a photo?”

You looked at Nobara—she nodded violently.

“Sure.”

Suguru grabbed your phone. You and Nobara posed while Gojo slung an arm over you, sticking his tongue out. You leaned against his chest, Nobara threw up a peace sign, and Suguru did the same behind her head.

He handed back your phone.

“Hope we see you again.”

Gojo chimed in, “Our next show’s next month. You coming?”

Nobara answered for both of you. “YES.”

They laughed, heading onto the bus.

SubNerdjo x Bold Cheerleader reader smut

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“C’monnn, Toruuuu,” you whined, jogging after Satoru down the library aisle.

He peeked over his shoulder, glasses slipping slightly, and pressed a finger to his lips. “Shhhh.” Then he whipped his head forward, trying to stay ahead.

You huffed dramatically, quickening your pace. “Stop running from me!” you whispered-yelled, your hands gripping your backpack straps.

Satoru swallowed hard. He knew you needed help with chemistry. Really needed help. But… finals were coming up, and he’d spent the last few days buried in anime and video games. The thought of just a little quiet study time made him… tense.

He finally stopped, turning to face you. You froze, heart fluttering.

Batted eyelashes. Smile wide. You took a couple slow steps closer, just enough to make him notice.

His eyes lingered—accidentally—on your glossy lips. His ears burned instantly.

“Eyes up here, nerd,” you teased, voice sharp and playful.

“S-Sorry,” he muttered, almost inaudible, shifting on his feet.

You leaned a little closer, tilting your head, smirk teasing the corners of your mouth. “Rude to check out girls right in front of them, you know. Did your dad not teach you manners?”

His chest hammered, brain short-circuiting, as your perfume hit him full force. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but you pressed a single finger gently against his lips.

“Shhhh. You know how you can pay me back,” you whispered, voice teasing.

He nodded slowly, unable to look away, cheeks blazing red.

“Such a good listener, huh?” you murmured, voice dripping with playful satisfaction.

Then you glanced around. “Ah, there’s a table. Follow me.”

You strode confidently to an empty corner of the library. Satoru trailed behind, trying not to get lost in the sway of your hair… or your hips…

“Eyes up here, geez!” he muttered, cheeks still pink.

You shot him a smirk, hand on your hip, bag slung casually over your shoulder.

You plopped down into the chair. “Alright, I’ve got four assignments I need done in the next hour. Cheer practice’s coming up, so—chop chop!”

He sat down fast—almost tripping over the chair leg—cheeks flushed as he dropped into the seat across from you. His fingers scrambled through his bag, searching for a pencil like the world was ending.

While he was half under the table, Satoru’s eyes accidentally landed on your shoe… just inches from him. Then—inevitably—his gaze drifted upward.

And upward.

And higher.

His glasses slid down his nose.

Pink lace panties.

Barely visible between crossed legs.

His brain short-circuited. His mouth actually watered.

Then—THUD.

He shot upward too fast and slammed his head directly into the underside of the table.

You jumped at the noise before he reappeared, red-faced and rubbing the sore spot.

You giggled. “Oops. Sorry. I had a feeling you were doing something naughty down there.”

“I—I wasn’t,” he stammered, voice cracking. “I was just getting a pencil.”

“Sure, Toru. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” You winked.

He exhaled sharply through his nose—flustered, embarrassed, already overwhelmed—before dragging your papers toward himself and starting on the first problem.

You watched him in silence… at first.

Then you got comfortable, shifting in your seat, uncrossing and recrossing your legs. Your skirt slipped higher each time, but you didn’t adjust it. You rested your chin in your hand dramatically.

Satoru kept trying not to look.

He failed every time.

When he finally risked a glance up, you were staring straight at him. Your smile was slow, dangerous, knowing.

His eyes darted back down immediately.

You bit back a laugh.

Teasing him was too easy.

Too fun.

And honestly? Too cute.

Every little thing you did made him blush. Every tiny movement made his fingers stutter on the page. You knew he liked you the moment he first saw you — most guys did — but he was the only nerd you actually tolerated.

Smart, tall, unintentionally adorable.

Even if he wouldn’t shut up about Digimon or whatever game he was obsessed with lately.

Plus, you knew his friend Suguru and expected him to be the pervert… not quiet, sweater-wearing Satoru who smelled like vanilla and coffee.

Guys like him always hid more underneath. You just hadn’t figured out what yet.

“Satouuuuru,” you said sweetly.

He froze. “Y-Yeah?”

You leaned forward on your elbows, hands framing your face. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

His whole body jerked like you’d shocked him.

“I—I…” His grip on the pencil tightened. He swallowed hard. “W-well—”

You let your face fall. “So that’s a no.”

You pouted. “Wow. You’re hurting my feelings, you know.”

His eyes flew wide. His pencil clattered to the table.

“Wait—wait! No! You’re— you’re beautiful— I didn’t mean— I just—”

You blinked, intrigued by how fast he unraveled.

“I’m beautiful?” you repeated, letting your smile creep back. “Careful. I might fall for you.

“That would be something—cheerleader and a dork like you, huh.”

He froze so hard you almost heard his brain crash.

You giggled softly as he grabbed his pencil again, trying to bury himself in your worksheet.

But you were bored again in less than thirty seconds.

While he was deep in your chemistry problems, you scooted your chair closer… then right next to him. Close enough for your perfume to wrap around him and drag his focus away.

He stiffened as soon as your thigh touched his.

Your nails tapped the desk.

Your shoulder brushed his.

“That okay?” you asked innocently. “Just making sure you’re actually doing my work. Quality control.”

His eyes flicked—traitorously—down your shirt.

He yanked them back up.

His handwriting instantly went to hell.

He erased aggressively, little curls of shavings piling on the page. He tried brushing them away but you leaned your head onto his shoulder.

And—

…oh.

His shoulder wasn’t bony at all.

Your hand slid around his arm before you could stop it.

He turned stiffly to the side, confused and pink.

“Wh-Why are you—”

“You work out, Satoru?” you asked, genuinely surprised. “I was expecting bones under this sweater, not… this.” You squeezed his arm lightly. “I’m not complaining, though.”

His brows pulled together immediately—offended, flustered, something hot sparking in his chest.

“Yes I work out,” he said, voice suddenly deeper, rougher. “Five times a week.”

You blinked.

Where did THAT tone come from?

“Did I offend you?” you asked quietly. “Sorry…”

He sighed, guilt mixing with mortification. “I-It’s fine… j-just stay quiet. Please.”

His stutter returned the second your chest pressed more firmly against his arm.

Heat shot through him so fast he felt dizzy.

“But I’m boooooreeed,” you whined softly.

He glanced at you—then immediately regretted it. Your cleavage was pushed together, bra peeking, lips pouting. The kind of sight that made every synapse in his brain overload.

Goosebumps ran down his arms inside his sweater.

You always teased him.

Always left him aching.

Always drove him insane.

And he hated you for it.

Especially right now.

“I’m doing your work, you should be thanking me.” he said roughly that surprised you, his tone had shifted completely and so did his body language. Stuff and firm and unmoving.

“You’re only doing my work because you like me bossing you around so quit the complaining.” he glared at you before you got in his face, “Whatt? are you going to stand up for yourself huh?” you smiled before you got a whiff of his cologne.

It smelt good, his eyes started at yours.

“I can’t stand you sometimes,” he mumbled as be glared at you, that fueled you. “Really? I think you’re lying to me—and yourself.”

He huffed through his nose, his glasses were slowly sliding down his nose. His white lashes fluttering at your blunt words.

“I-I’m not, don’t go assuming stuff like that,” his tone went back to the embassy whine you knew. You smiled as he broke eye connect to flushed to keep staring at your face.

“Hmm I win, you looked awayyy,” you giggled as he sighed. It had only been fifteen minutes and he’s only on your second assignment.

He coudobr focus with you all over him, so he pushed you out his mind, pushed his glasses up and ignored you.

And you immediately noticed, “Saturooo,” you said but no reaction, not even a glance. You bit the inside of your lip as you shook him a little but nothing.

You tried everything squeezing his arm to whispering in his ear but he didn’t break, kept writing and stayed focus.

You finally gave up, unwrapping your arm from his, and grabbed your phone.

Scrolling, your eyes landed on an email from your coach.

PRACTICE IS CANCELLED.

You scoffed, mumbling, “Of course.”

Meanwhile, Saturo was finishing the last page of your stupid chemistry homework. He had come to the library with plans—plans that now seemed hopelessly out of reach because of you.

“All done,” he said, sliding the papers toward you.

You beamed. “You’re an angel sent from heaven, Toru.”

Heat rushed to his ears as you stuffed the papers into your folder.

“It’s… really nothing hard,” he murmured under his breath, eyes averted as your back faced him while you organized the papers.

You whipped around, eyes wide, smirk teasing. “Nothing hard? You’re too smart for your own good, y’know.”

He swallowed hard, heart hammering. With every step you took closer, every tilt of your head, every playful smirk, his chest felt tighter. His hands grew clammy. He hated how you had this effect on him.

His mind… wandered. Into places he absolutely shouldn’t think about.

You giggled softly. “It was just chemistry work, really.”

His eyes betrayed him anyway, dropping to your chest.

“So… do you want your reward?” you asked, voice light and teasing.

His throat went dry. “W-what reward?” he whispered, panic and anticipation warring in his brain.

Before he could react, you pressed him against a bookshelf. His glasses fogged as your lips captured his in a heated kiss. He froze at first, and then you giggled against him, the sound soft and dangerous.

Your lip gloss smeared against his lips. “How do you like your reward?” you asked, pulling back slightly to look at him.

He swallowed hard, adjusting his glasses, hands hovering awkwardly over your waist. His heart thudded wildly in his chest.

“I-I wasn’t expecting… this, but—” he stammered.

You pouted, voice soft and whiny. “You don’t like it?”

His eyes went wide. “W-what?” he whispered sharply, and you immediately pressed your hand over his mouth.

“Don’t be so loud,” you whispered, playful but firm. “We’ll get caught.”

He nodded eagerly, silent this time, and you pulled your hand away, capturing his lips again in a slower, more deliberate kiss.

His hands hovered over your waist, frozen. You rolled your eyes, guiding them gently to rest on your hips. He flinched, but didn’t pull away.

“Come on, don’t act shy,” you teased, sliding your fingers into his soft white hair.

His eyes fluttered closed. Finally, his hands moved lower, hesitant but deliberate.

You smiled against his lips. “There you go… such a good boy,” you breathed.

He groaned softly into the kiss, barely audible, and you tugged at his hair. He whined quietly, needy and tentative. The heat between you grew as his hands grew bolder, tracing over your hips and sides, matching your movements.

Every brush, every touch, every little gasp made it harder for him to maintain his usual shy, nerdy composure.

You felt his hands moving more confidently over your hips, but there was still hesitation in his movements—a flicker of that shy, nerdy Satoru you knew so well.

“I—uh… you shouldn’t—move like that,” he mumbled, voice cracking just a little, eyes flicking to yours, bright and wide. He swallowed hard, heat flooding his face, but his hands didn’t stop—they pressed firmer, guiding you closer.

“Oh? And why not?” you teased, lips brushing his ear as you leaned in. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”

His ears burned red. “I-I do! I mean… yes! But—ugh! You’re making it impossible to—think straight,” he groaned, voice shaky, lips parting, eyes darting everywhere but meeting yours.

You smirked, pressing a little closer, feeling the tension in his body. “Mmm… you like it. Admit it.”

“I—yes! I like it!” he confessed, then immediately whimpered, hiding his face in your hair. “God… don’t tease me too much… please…”

That whiny, needy tone hit a nerve. Your grin widened. You ran a hand down his chest slowly, feeling him shiver under your touch.

See? You’re cute when you can’t control yourself,” you murmured, voice soft and teasing.

He groaned again, pushing you gently into the bookshelf behind you, surprising himself with the firmness of the motion. “I… I need… I can’t just—ugh, stop teasing me like this!” His blue eyes glimmered, dark and desperate, but his lips curved slightly—he was still shy, but now there was assertion behind it.

“Hmm… now this is interesting,” you purred, leaning into him. “Look at you… bossy and flustered at the same time. Who knew you had it in you?”

He swallowed audibly, heat radiating off his neck and face. “I… I can’t help it! You’re… you’re driving me insane!”

And then, suddenly, his hands moved with purpose.

One hand slid to your waist, the other tangled in your hair, pulling you flush against him.

His lips crushed against yours, harder and more demanding than before, but his blue eyes stayed wide, flickering between dominance and that familiar, needy vulnerability.

“You—ugh—you feel so… perfect,” he muttered between kisses, voice thick, tone rough but still trembling. “God… I don’t know what I’m—ugh—doing…”

You giggled against him, letting him feel your warmth fully. “Keep going,” you whispered, breathy, tugging at his hair gently. “Don’t hold back on me now, Toru.”

His grip tightened, knuckles brushing your hips, teeth grazing your shoulder as he leaned further into the kiss. “T-Tase mmhmm good—“

A shiver ran down you at his words. His face was flushed, lips pressed to yours, hands strong yet trembling as if he couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

His cock throbbed in his boxers, already leaving a damp spot from all the kissing.

Feeling your skin under his hands, he realized he had you pressed against the bookshelf, both of your bags dropped and forgotten a few inches away.

The library was empty, quiet, shelves stretching endlessly around you.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, making your thoughts messy and desperate—you were too pent-up to care about consequences.

Your hands slipped down to his pants, palming him.

He whimpered, eyes dropping to where your hand moved over him, helpless to resist.

You looked up, voice dripping with teasing dominance. “You get turned on when I boss you around, don’t you?”

He swallowed, gaze flicking to yours, then slowly nodded. Your smile widened.

“I knew it. You always try to deny it—” You leaned back slightly, then knelt before him, utterly unapologetic.

His eyes widened, taking in how confidently you moved, how little guilt you showed

Too caught up in the moment to care if anyone saw, he darted his eyes nervously around—left, right, then back down at you.

You slowly unbuttoned his pants, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you felt your panties growing damper by the second.

Your cheeks flushed, heart racing, as his pants were now low enough for his cock to be just inches from your face.

You noticed the trail of hair leading down to him and couldn’t help but giggle.

His eyes flickered, startled. “W-what’s so… funny?” he asked, voice shaky.

You looked up at him innocently, eyes wide. “It all matches… it’s… pretty, that’s all.”

He let out a nervous chuckle. “W-well, thanks—but are you—”

His words cut off abruptly when footsteps echoed in the distance. He froze, panic flashing across his features, but you didn’t stop.

His heart hammered in his chest as you hurried to pull his boxers down. His gaze followed every movement. “W-wait!” he whispered, voice breaking.

It was too late. His cock was fully exposed in front of you. You wrapped your hand around the base, hungry and teasing, fingers barely able to encircle him fully.

You looked up at him, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks, open mouth, and fogged glasses.

“S-someone might see!” he stammered, turning his head in alarm.

You rolled your eyes. “So?” you said, pressing him closer to your face.

His words caught in his throat, only a pathetic whine slipped out when he felt you slowly stroke his cock.

Your knees pressed into the carpet as you leaned closer, teasing him with cat licks down the shaft of his cock.

He flinched slightly, hands instinctively moving toward you, flustered and wide-eyed.

He covered his own mouth before his hand rushed behind your head, you giggled around him sending vibrations through him.

“F-Fuck,” he whispered as he watched you swallow his either cock, then slowly stop at his tip.

He guided you closer, and your hands pressed against his thighs to keep yourself steady. For now, you let him take control, feeling the subtle shift of power between you.

The soft whines and muttered curses that escaped him filled your ears, each one making your heart race.

You watched his eyes flicker, captivated by the way your gaze fluttered under his attention, and you couldn’t help but smirk at how utterly flustered he was.

Your cheeks flushed, eyes shimmering with emotion, and your breaths came in ragged gasps.

Drool was going down your chin, your eyes were teary. His force was getting rougher and rougher, your head was bobbing back and forth.

Just like that… shit,” he muttered under his breath, voice thick with need, glancing down at you.

He could feel your nails digging into his thighs as his dick was leaking more salty pre cum into your mouth.

Your glossy lips were wrapped around him, your panties were drenched.

And before you knew it—he was cumming, he bit his lip as he shoved your head into his pubes. Your hands instinctually went to his hips pushing him as he spilled into your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back as you choked on his cum, that only made him whine louder as he spilled more and more into your mouth.

He whined as his glasses fell down by you, your eyes were closed as you swallowed it all.

The salty taste melted on your tongue, his hands were still in your hair as you pushed yourself off.

You were out of breath, sweat beading along your skin, jaw slack from the intensity. As you stood, his hand slipped from your hair.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to—” he stammered, voice tight, eyes avoiding yours.

You blinked at him, letting the silence stretch just long enough for him to feel the weight of your gaze.

Tears down your face, you grabbed his collar. “Your fucking selfish, get on your knees.”

You pushed his head down, his knees hit the carpet floor hard as winced at the pain.

Only in his dirty fantasies did he think about doing this, you lifted your mini skirt. “Go on,” you said with full confidence.

He looked up nervously before he swallowed and looked at your panties.

His eyes widened seeing the big wet spot, some was even running down your thigh.

God he was hard again.

He slowly got closer to your heat, eye level now before he planted kisses up your thigh.

You looked down feeling shivers run down your body, you smiled as you watched him kiss and lick your slick.

His tongue flatted againist your thigh licking the slick that had leaked out of your panties.

Your thighs were all sticky—for him.

That made his mind hazy, he was still coming down from his own high before he shoved his face into your cunt, you gasped feeling his tongue through your sticky panties.

You adjusted your skirt pushing it higher on your waist. Now being able to see him suck your clit through your panties.

It was hot and needy, his hands grabbed your ass squeezing, and pulling you into him more.

Your body moved as you softly moaned, “Oh my..” you said as he looked down at you.

No glasses, just the raw pull of pent-up energy between you.

He reached a hand from behind you deep into your panties.

You lifted a leg putting it on his shoulder, your feet dangled over his back as he rubbed two fingers on your weeping hole.

Your head fell back, as he felt his fingers getting covered in your hot slick. He shoved his fingers in feeling how tight and warm you were around his fingers.

You bit your lip to stifle a sound, fingers tangling in his hair as you drew him closer, pressing him against you.

Your hips grinded against his face, feeling him with every movement, and he pumped two fingers inside you.

Keeping you on the edge as your body shuddered under his touch

Half his hand was in your panties and the other half was by your thigh, he flicked his two fingers hitting your walls side to side, as you felt a wave of pleasure hit you.

His tongue was pressing on your clit, he had moved your panties to the side, and your pussy being exposed now.

Puffy and slick with his attention, he groaned, “Soo… good,” the sound of his lapping and slurping filling his ears, echoing through the shelf’s as he devoured you.

Your ears were ringing and you could feel yourself slowly starting to cum, the way your grip got tighter.

Your hips were moving uncontrollably, grinding—humping his face.

And he loved it, he loved it all.

He was always hard again wanting to fuck you against the bookshelf.

His dick was throbbing so hard it hurt, but he wanted you to cum in his mouth—and he knew you were close.

The way your voice got softer and your eyes squeezed shut—not to mention he could feel your cunt squeezing around his fingers.

You looked down, stomach tightening, and then it snapped—waves of release coursing through you.

You bit down hard on your lip, trying to hold back your whines.

Your legs trembled, quivering beneath him, as he drank in every drop of your release.

His grip on your hips tightened, holding you steady, anchoring you through the waves of euphoria crashing over you as he ate you through your orgasm.

He slowly moved your panties back on your puffy clit, and stood up. Tall and out of breath, “Did I do good?” he asked as you nodded eyes cracked open as you tried to catch your breath.

“Really good,” you praised, and he couldn’t help but smile, quiet but pleased. You didn’t wait for a response—wiping your hands on your shirt, you bent over to grab your bag, letting the movement linger just long enough to catch his attention.

Your ass lingered in his line of sight for a moment, and he caught a glimpse of your panties, ruined and wet sticking to your inner thighs, before you stood back up.

“I’ll see you around, Toru. See ya.” You gave him a casual smile, light and teasing, and walked away, leaving him staring after you as you disappeared from sight.

He stood there in shock, he blinked and rushed to grab his bag. His plan was to study but how could he study now? He was still horny and he could smell you on his fingers.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he left the library with a raging boner.

“He’s just a friend,” you said, stretching your legs across his lap. “The same way you have your little hookup rotation.”

Satoru’s jaw ticked — barely — but you caught it.

Your legs across his lap, thinking nothing of it—until his hand landed on your ankle.

Casual. Innocent.

Or at least… that’s what he was trying to make it look like.

“That’s different,” he muttered, eyes flicking to your legs on him. “I don’t wanna see you being all touchy with another dude.”

But he kept his fingers there.

Thumb brushing your skin.

Like he needed something to hold onto so he wouldn’t say what he was really thinking.

You raised a brow. “Touchy? You mean like this?”

You wiggled your toes near his stomach, teasing. He grabbed your calf instantly. Not rough — but definitely not casual anymore.

“Don’t start,” he warned, squeezing just once before he dragged his hand a little higher up your shin, like he couldn’t stop himself.

You fought a smile. “You’re sooo not jealous.”

He scoffed, but his thumb slowly rubbing circles into your leg gave him away completely.

His thumb kept tracing slow circles into your leg, pretending he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Pretending he was relaxed. Pretending he wasn’t one twitch away from dragging you into his lap.

It was cute how bad he was at pretending.

“So you really don’t think you’re jealous?” you teased, letting your foot nudge his side again.

“I’m not jealous,” he said.

But his hand slid higher up your calf.

Then higher.

You raised a brow. “You’re touching me.”

“I’m keeping your feet from kicking me,” he shot back.

“Uh-huh.”

He avoided your eyes, staring at the TV with a look that said he wasn’t watching a single thing. His jaw kept tensing. His grip kept tightening. His fingers kept drifting up and down your leg like he needed the contact to stay grounded.

You smirked. “If you weren’t jealous, you’d let me go on a date with him.”

Satoru froze.

Then he slowly looked at you, blue eyes darker than before.

“You’re not going on a date with him.”

You blinked. “I didn’t say I was—”

“Good.” His hand moved again, this time sliding behind your knee, pulling your leg more securely onto his lap. “Because you’d hate it.”

“Why would I hate it?” you challenged, leaning forward.

“Because he’s boring,” Satoru said without hesitation.

“You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to.” He tapped your shin. “You get quiet around him.”

You scoffed. “I do not—”

“You do,” he murmured. “You’re not yourself. You don’t laugh the same. You don’t talk the same.”

Your heart thudded once, hard.

“And why is that such a problem?” you asked softly.

He faltered for the first time. His hand stilled on your leg.

Then—

“Because I like the way you are with me,” he said quietly. “I don’t want him getting that version of you.”

Your breath caught.

The room got smaller.

His gaze flicked down to your lips and back up before he could stop himself. His fingers finally abandoned pretending and pressed into your thigh—firm, possessive, like he was done playing dumb.

“Satoru…” you whispered.

“Yeah?” He leaned in, barely, like he was afraid you’d pull back.

“You’re jealousss,” you whispered.

This time he didn’t deny it.

He swallowed, thumb brushing the soft skin above your knee.

“Maybe I am.”

You felt him tug your leg closer, dragging your body toward his without even thinking about it. Your faces were inches apart now. His breath ghosted your mouth.

“And what exactly are you gonna do about it?” you whispered.

He stared at you for half a second too long.

Then he whispered, “This.”

His hand slid to the back of your thigh, pulling you the rest of the way into him as he kissed you — slow, deep, like he’d been waiting months and finally snapped.

Your hands went to his shoulders, fingers digging in as he angled your face closer, kissing you harder like he needed to win something you didn’t know you were competing for.

When he finally pulled back, breath unsteady, he pressed his forehead to yours.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I don’t wanna watch anyone else touch you.”

Your pulse was loud enough you swore he could hear it.

And you whispered back: