STRWBRRYMOON @strwbrrymoonwrites - Tumblr Blog

chemistry, biology, as long as they’re on top of me!

nerdjo + fratjo x bimbo!reader

summary: naïve, carefree, and more focused on fun (taking dick) than logic, you barely notice the subtle switch between a bookish, slightly-condescending nerd and his charismatically awkward frat boy twin—and now you’re part of an trigonal planar bond (whatever that is): a perfectly complex balance of three elements, equally spaced around a central point to create an unstable equilibrium. or in other words, the three of you are bonded together not just chemically, but in more ways that are fueled by attraction (and orgasms). but what better way to learn than by stuffing yourself with organic chemistry (and two different “identical” cocks)?

tags/warnings: 18+ mdni. AU, smut, bimbofication, dumbification, reverse dumbifcation (one of the twins goes dumb for the pu$$y), dom/sub Satoru, cunnilingus, edging, orgasm denial, blindfold, turn-taking, piv, dacryphilia, degradation, praise, mentions of doggystyle, deepthroating, reverse cowgirl, eiffel tower (oui, oui LOL!), m/f/m, voyeurism, (m.) masturbation, hair pulling, c*m swallowing, belly bulge, c*m on panties, c*m on pu$$y, mating press, squirting (we got a crier and a squirter) creamp*e, marathon sex, a little jealousy, a little competitiveness, happy ending (?)

wc: 20.4K (oops)

art by: @/teaforgods and i also wanted to link this amazing nerdjo by @jiyuu-zou he looks so adorable i wanna eat him up!

“Tell me—shit, stop squeezing around me—using the VSEPR theory, why does a molecule with three bonding regions and no lone pairs arrange itself into trigonal planar geometry instead of a tetrahedral one?”

You swore he’d went over this before…right?

“VSPER?” You rasped, scrambling for something—anything that made sense. “Why does that stand for? Very Shiny Pearls, Emeralds, and Rhinestones?”

“Amazing,” he drawled, looking the opposite of amazed—hips bucking tortuously forward—teeth baring when you squeezed him around him again. “You turned an entire theory into a shopping list. And—surprise, surprise! You switched up the acronym’s order.”

You moaned.

He stopped—deliberately braked, mid-thrust—cock still throbbing inside you, arching a platinum brow at your lack of answer, the ring hooped around the tail glinting for emphasis. Technically, a moan was a response, an unintelligible sound that narrowly escaped between gaped lips, drool stringing down the corner of your mouth. Your lipgloss was a thing of the past, a sparkly smear like cosmic dust, mascara trails stained you cheeks like spilled ink, delicate and careless, black clumps sticking to your lashes. Your hair was a tangled halo around your head, strands clinging where sweat and glitter met skin.

Not a pretty sight when you had sweated out all the effort you’d put into your appearance. Six hours of flat-ironing your hair, poking your eye with the mascara wand twice, and changing your outfit an embarrassing amount of times had gone down the drain.

One of your tits spilled out of your bubble-gum pink corset, the tight laces cinching your waist that created a dramatic hourglass silhouette, loosened from eager touches, reverent fingers had unwrapped you like a long-awaited present. The pushup bra underneath was skewed, ruffled lace trim teasing the edges, a tiny bow placed at the center. Your nipple was tender and swollen from being sucked, marked with faint impressions of teeth. The other half, barely contained by lace and delicate flowers, peeked out, soft and inviting. Your lacy thong had been carelessly tossed across the room, landing near his chair, forgotten as his fingers and tongue had replaced the soft fabric.

Diamonds settled right in the dip of your throat, tiny stars caught in a delicate spill, the silver cool against your skin, a notable contrast to the heat licking every surface of your body. Princess was spelled out in elegant loops, shimmering every time your breathed—cute and gaudy and unapologetic—less a title than a bold statement.

But you weren’t feeling very princess-like or intelligent at the moment.

Having sex with your tutor had officially dumbed you down, as if his dick had deducted points off your IQ, leaving you a few points below average.

Not that you had much to begin with.

“You know the rules—” Satoru paused, letting the words hang between you, eyes flicking over your face from behind foggy lenses, slick-coated lips tugging upward into a smug smile because he already knew the answer. The smirk widened just enough to be infuriating, lazy and deliberate, like he was daring you push back just to see what he’d do. “So don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Satoru—I dunno,” you whined, rocking your hips forward, a wordless nudge see if he’d budge. Your pussy was pulsing around his cock, slick leaking out the edges of your slit. “…gimme a hint.”

“No,” Satoru remained still, an unbudging wall of flushed skin, thumbs pressing in warning at your hips—grip steady, unyielding. “C’mon, we went over it a billion times. You don’t get to dodge now. Not when you’d been doing so well. You want to come again, right?”

“Yes,” you pouted, lashes fluttering as if the answer might fall into place if you looked cute enough. “Just…remind me? Please?”

Satoru exhaled from his nose, a whoosh of reined frustration, then a devastating smile masked his barely-concealed expression. “Cute doesn't work when you have yet to give me the correct answer. Try again.”

You blinked, smile faltering just a little. “B-but you said I can ask for hints.”

“I say you could,” he smiled like he was indulging a child. “Not that I would make it easy.”

You shifted again, hopeful despite yourself. “But you like when I try, right?”

He chuckled softly. “I like when you think you’re trying.”

“R-really? You mean it?” You asked, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and optimistic.

He hummed, thumbs skimming over the crease of your thigh. “I like when you use all of your brain cells to generate something even more obtuse,” Satoru replied, tilting his head as he observed you. “It’s a talent, really.”

You squinted at him, somewhat confused. “Obtuse? Isn’t that the large bird that can’t fly?” You paused as the cogs inside your mind slowly rotated, then your demeanor brightened at the image of the feathery creature with the long lashes and adorable eyes. “I saw it on Animal Planet.”

Satoru sighed, firmly correcting, “No. No. That’s an ostrich.”

You blinked once. Then twice. The mental picture of the ostrich poofing out of your thoughts.

“…Oh.” A beat. “Then why do they sound so similar?” You asked earnestly, brow knitting as you tried to work it out—completely disregarding how you had a cock inside you. “That feels kinda misleading.”

You didn’t wait for an answer, adding, softer, like you were genuinely trying to be helpful. “Maybe they shouldn’t do that. The words, I mean.” Your eyes snapped back to his, eager and a little proud of yourself. “Did I get closer this time?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmured. “Because intellectually? This is doing me no favors.”

All you heard was cute, and started giggling. “Cute enough to give me the answer?”

“If being cute earned answers,” he said drily, “you wouldn't be struggling this much.”

You huffed softly. “Maybe it you're just not a good tutor.”

Satoru laughed under his breath. “No. You’re just a terrible student.”

You gasped softly. “Wow. And here I thought tutors were supposed to be encouraging.”

“Encouraging,” he repeated, grinning in a way that could be patronizing, but you weren't too sure. “That’s a big word for you.”

You smiled sweetly. “See? I am learning. Gold star for you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Satoru smugly said, cerulean eyes lighting up with unmistakable confidence. “I’ve already earned my fair shares of gold stars, but you? You’re still fumbling through the basics.”

“I wouldn’t be fumbling if you would just tell me the correct answer,” you mumbled, feeling disheartened. You were really trying to find the answer, but the mounting ache between your thighs drew your focus away as it intensified, eyes flitting restlessly to where his swollen cock stretched your pussy open, a creamy, froth-lined ring clinging to the base. “Would save us both the trouble.”

He tilted his head. “If I give it to you, then you wouldn't learn a thing.”

You clicked your tongue. All your attempts were futile, producing an undesirable outcome. The only other option would be to coax an orgasm on your own, your fingers twitched, itching to dip below, between your spread legs—circle your throbbing clit—and put an end to this misery.

“Don’t even think about it,” your tutor reprimanded, brows scrunched together in disapproval. “I’m the one who gets to make you come, not you. That’s another rule you had forgotten. Do I need to make you write them down a hundred times? Hm?”

“Satoru, please,” you begged, hot-pink acrylics scored over his skin, pretty charms tinkling as you carved slow, taunting paths down his chest. Fading, glossy lip imprints and ruptured capillaries dressed his collarbone, trophies you’d left behind at the beginning of your study session. “I’ll pay attention after. Whatcha think? I’m almost—”

“If only you were this determined about identifying chiral centers,” he scoffed, middle finger pushing back his glasses—the same one that had been inside your cunt earlier, scissoring and prodding your g-spot until you’d seen the entire solar system—gaze lingering on you, “we might actually get through this chapter.”

“I need to come,” you persisted, voice airy. “Maybe it’ll relieve the pressure or something and I’ll be able to find the answer!”

Satoru laughed, a breathless and mean sound, blue pools glittering with pure joy—his dick getting harder at your suffering, still buried balls-deep inside you, pulsations filling your walls. “Oh, sweet, sweet ditzy girl—that’s not how it works,” he cooed, voice suddenly tooth-rottingly saccharine and mocking all in one. “There's no pressure in there—believe me. Just a hollow skull,” he tapped his temple lightly, “air whistling straight through,” he lazily drawled, grin widening. “I’d say you’re knocking around in there, but that would imply there's something to bump into.”

“That's not true!” You squealed in a high-pitched tone, doe-eyed and gullible. “Someone once actually said I have a teeny-tiny monkey with cymbals living in there!”

“Oh yeah?” Satoru raised his pierced eyebrow again, lips twitching with amusement. “Then maybe you should ask the monkey to give you the answer.”

You didn’t know why, but the idea of your skull housing a miniature monkey playing an instrument—cymbals clashing together—sent you into a fit of giggles, or perhaps it was the perfect distraction from your lust-bridled mind. Once you’d caught your breath, you reached for a strand of hair and twirled it between your fingers, humming to yourself before you spoke up again, “Oooooh! Greeeeat idea! Wonder why I hadn’t thought of that,” you paused, eyes rolling upward in mock contemplation. “Do you think it'll help me? I hope it’s like…super smart! Hey!” You smacked his shoulder, playful and flirty, fingers lingering on a sweaty canvas. “Maybe it's smarter than you!”

Satoru chortled, blue eyes still glinting with familiar mischief. “Smarter than me?” He echoed, voice dripping with entertainment. “Well…why don’t you ask the little monkey, hmm? Give it a little interview, see what it says. Meanwhile, I got something to do.”

“Something to do?” You parroted, glancing at him like he was speaking in a different language.

He chuckled at your reaction. “Yeah, something’s come up. I’ll be back soon.”

You frowned, your playful mood quickly souring. “Wait, so you’re just gonna leave me here with this monkey in my head?” You sulked, crossing your arms. “What? Should I just keep asking it for questions instead?” You gave him a pout, even though you couldn’t completely hide the smirk tugging at your lips. “Not to mention how you’re totally like…blue-balling me. That’s so unfair, Satoru!”

“Blue-balling you?” He echoed, incredulous, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “For that to happen, you’ll need to a have a cock.” Satoru said with a head shake, “Sweetheart, I’m literally giving you a free anatomy lesson with the organic chem. A two-in-one special—no extra charge. You should know the reproductive system very well.” He flashed his canines, sharp and gleaming, “But in your defense, you can barely grasp the concept of one course, let alone two.”

You frowned, clearly not getting it. “I don’t get what learning about the stars and the planets aligning has to do with us…having sex,” you faltered when a thought entered your mind. “But maybe that’s why I’m feeling extra…sexually excited? Maybe the planets are like sending signals to my pussy.” You said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, flashing him a I’m well-informed smile.

“First of all that’s astronomy,” Satoru breathed, pinching the bridge of nose, clearly exasperated. “I was talking about anatomy.” He shot you a pointed look. “But if the planets are turning you on, maybe I should grab additional assistance to help with the lesson.”

“Ugh, whatever,” you rolled your eyes, jutting out your bottom lip. “I don’t care and I don’t need help.”

He didn’t respond with words, instead, his hips pettily slid back a fraction, cock dragging, veins etching into your walls until you were contracting around him with apparent greed, with possession. “Satoru—what—no, you can’t do this to me,” you whined again, sexual frustration cracking the surface of your tone, sharp talons digging into his shoulders, intentionally drawing pain out of him, a hiss that sounded like the chorus of vengeance. “Please—just let me finish—I need this—I need you to keep fucking me.”

“Thought you said you didn’t care,” he replied, indifferent and cruel. You clenched down with merciless intent, just to hear him whimper, the sound escaping him before he could stop it.

A small, smug smile pulled at your lips. You reveled in it—the way he tried to mask his reaction, only to fail.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” Satoru warned through gritted teeth, but didn’t move. He took a deep breath, dragging a hand through damp strands before fixing you with a narrowed, dangerous stare. “Congratulations. You just added another chapter to your lesson plan.”

Before you could protest any further, Satoru pulled out, in-by-inch, audible squelches filled the room—slow and deliberate—you felt the withdrawal in stages, every second stretching thin, like a cruel reminder meant to haunt you the moment he was gone. Your cunt clenched around nothing, weeping at the absence of his cock.

Satoru hoped out of bed, and stood at the foot of it in all his glory, giving you a generous view of his physique, bracketed abs faintly glistening with a coat of sweat, a path of white hair led straight to his cock, still hard and slick with your arousal—the head flushed a delightful, light-pink—a color you’d begged your nail tech to replicate once during one of your weekly manicure-pedicure appointments because it fit with your aesthetic.

You’d recalled how pretty his cock looked with your fingers wrapped around it, leaking with cum as you’d given him the best handjob of his life. That was one of the first sexual experiences with Satoru—the night you’d both agreed to cross the line between tutor-student and into something deliciously inappropriate—and since then you’d been hooked on him. Well, his dick in particular, the rest of him came afterward.

Who knew underneath all those Digimon hoodies, crisp button-down shirts, and khaki pants—the perfect nerdy getup—was a dick bigger than his brain? You did. Nerds were notorious for being third-legged, which was why you hadn’t been too opposed to getting a tutor after your professor, had revealed your failing grade. Straight Fs lined up the roster, you’d gotten an abysmal score on every exam—and the only points you’d miraculously earned came from writing your name—which, on occasion, you’d spelled incorrectly.

When your professor had suggested going to the highest ranked student in the entire university, you’d laughed, one: because you had no clue who held that title, and two: because the idea of someone that smart dealing with you felt wildly unrealistic.

And shockingly, you’d clocked it right—for once.

Satoru had walked in—glasses perched on a sloped nose—taken a good look at your rhinestones, velour, and obnoxiously loud pink, and walked right back out. You’d spent the next two weeks begging, bargaining, and promising to actually try before he’d begrudgingly agreed to tutor you—clearly against his better judgement.

He wasn’t the nicest. You’d gathered that from the way he’d assessed you, with an upturned nose and a faint smirk, like he was already mentally grading your outfit, your attitude, and probably your entire life in one glance.

He’d often insult you, tossing out big words you’d never be able to understand—not unless you lugged around a dictionary as bulky as his frames. You weren’t completely too dim-witted, you had your moments where the dead lightbulb inside your head flickered.

But sometimes, you’d run into him on campus, and he’d actually be…nice. Like wearing a clean, casual shirt with a bold lingo, silver tufts escaping from a baseball cap, and that grin—oh, that blinding grin—that made you forget everything else. Forget how dumb you felt, forget your grades, forget even why you were standing there. He treated you like you actually mattered, throwing in little flirty winks and cheesy one-liners that somehow made your heart do cartwheels and left your panties, well…soaking. Honestly, you couldn’t stop thinking about him for hours afterward, not until you’d use your rose toy and imagine it was him swirling his tongue around your clit and making you cream instead.

It was like dealing with two different people—and it left you even more confused than usual—desperately grasping at any reason why Satoru couldn’t just treat you with consistent charm and respect. Did the location make a difference? Maybe he felt more at ease in an open space.

“—be back soon,” Satoru announced, already dressed when you’d tuned back to his voice. He hadn’t noticed your glazed eyes, too busy rummaging through his organized desk for something. You blinked, suddenly distracted by the posters around his room, a few diagrams of molecules with lines and circles and letters that might as well have been hieroglyphics to you—a sleek laptop, a cup full of pens, and notes pinned with meticulous precision. For a moment, you wondered how someone so annoyingly smart would have such a chaotic effect on you.

He finally straightened, a silky piece of fabric dangling from his index finger. A blindfold. “Here,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Put this on…and wait for me on all fours.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and a giggle fled before you could stop it. You took it from him, no questions asked. You didn’t question why a nerd like him had a blindfold ready—like some secret, sadistic male lead straight out of an erotic movie. Blindfold over your eyes, the room dissolved into darkness, and suddenly, every sound, every creak of the floor felt amplified. You fumbled a little getting on all fours, spine arching, hair falling forward over your face, knees slightly wobbling, and your mind went completely haywire.

You wiggled your ass, the air tickling your exposed pussy, mixed arousal trickling down the back of your thighs. Oh my God, he was going to fuck you doggystyle—one of your favorite positions. He’d done it before, pounded into you from behind, hair wrapped around his wrist, roughly pulling you by the scalp, his cock honing into you while you’d recited elements from the periodic table. An elementary task you should’ve perfected since gen chem , but of course, you hadn’t paid a single attention.

The only elements you had known back then were silver and gold.

And now after six months of tutoring, you could confidently recall thirteen—an amazing accomplishment compared to before. It was such a huge leap for you, really, you couldn’t help but feel a little proud, even if you didn’t fully understand why carbon and oxygen mattered together.

You bit on your lower lip, imagining what he would do next, every nerve in your body alighting with anticipation. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, about his cock stretching you, about coming around him again and again. Waiting had never felt like this, and you didn’t care if you looked silly—you were too busy being completely and utterly captivated.

And then he was gone. You heard the door clicking softly behind him, leaving you there—dark, wobbly, and ridiculously wet for whatever came next.

Minutes passed, and you were humming the tune to your favorite, overlayed pop song.

The sound of the door swung open snapped you out of your humming. You heard him stroll into the room, his steps lighter, more carefree, and his presence had a completely different energy. You stayed where you were, too distracted by the blindfold-waiting game to notice anything had changed.

“Damn, you’re still waiting for me, huh?” His voice was smoother, less stern, more relaxed—and you didn’t even detect the light shift in tone. Instead, you thought he sounded a little more casual, like he wasn’t trying too hard to be a serious, no nonsense tutor. Maybe he’s just…in a better mood today?

You felt a flutter of excitement that had nothing to with the lesson. Maybe today he’d be more…playful? You didn’t remember the last time he sounded like this, and the thought made you squirm a little with curiosity and desire.

Oh my God, he sounds kinda cute like this—more laid-back, not so serious. I mean, yeah, I’ve never really seen him like this, but maybe he’s just warming up to me?

You shifted slightly, your body more aware of the subtle changes in the atmosphere—like everything was suddenly lighter between you. It made you feel tingly, like maybe all that tutoring stuff was just a game, and today, it was finally time to enjoy it without the overwhelming tension.

“Of course,” you giggled again, low and sultry. “I was just…following your instructions.”

He hummed at that, a devastating rumble that made your pussy clench. “My instructions?” He echoed, voice low. “Careful. You’re making it sound like you enjoy being told what to do.”

You cocked your head, smile slow and knowing. “I enjoy,” you said, “being very good at it.”

“Yeah?” You envisioned his pierced brow quirking, lips curling into that smug smirk you knew so well. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

You couldn’t see him, but you could hear the smile in his voice. The faint shift of fabric. The slow step closer. The way his breath seemed heavier now.

“Well…are we gonna pickup right where we left off?” You asked, letting the words linger between you, playful but gentle.

“Oh—we’re, uh…yeah. Yeah, of course we are,” he said, voice dipper lower like he was trying to smooth it out. “You think I’d make you wait like that for nothing?”

A shuffle.

“Just had to grab something. Relax.” Something fell on the carpet with a muffled thud. “Oh, shit. Ignore that. Nothing important,” he added quickly. A pause. “…okay, it was important. But it’s fine. I meant to drop it!”

You could almost hear him crouching to pick it up. You smiled, chewing on your bottom lip again. He was trying so hard to sound confident.

“Satoru?”

“Y-yeah? I’m here. Don’t worry.”

“You still sound a bit far away,” you flirted, biting on your lower lip. “Why don’t you come closer?”

More muffled steps.

“Hey,” his tone softened, the distance between you suddenly felt smaller, the heat of him radiating off his body. “Don’t move, okay? I like you right here.” You could feel the weight of his words settle in the room. Then, quieter—almost to himself. “…God, you really listening to me, huh?”

You nodded, breath hitching slightly, heart thumping in your chest. You could barely form any words, too caught up in how good his voice felt, how it vibrated through you. It was deep, warm, full of confidence—and it wrapped around you like a comforting, electric current.

Did you…accidentally discover you had a voice kink?

Your face burned, and you felt more giddy, a nervous laugh bubbled in your throat. You couldn’t remember the last time a sound left you this breathless. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it. Every word was like a caress. And he didn’t know how much he was doing to you just by speaking.

You couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips, feeling so far gone from just a couple of sentences.

“Satoru,” you breathed, head tilting toward the sound of him. “…touch me.”

There was a pause. Not a dramatic one. Not calculated.

Just a beat too long.

“Satoru?” He echoed, and you could almost hear the grin in it—but it wobbled. “My name is—” He cut himself off.

Silence.

You didn’t see it, but you could feel him freeze in the moment. More rustles of fabric, louder now. Closer. A soft exhale that sounded suspiciously like relief—like oh-my-God-I-almost-fucked-that-up.

“…Right,” he recovered quickly—too quickly. “Yeah. Satoru. That’s me. Obviously. The, uh—” a nervous scoff. “—the huge nerd. With glasses. And books. I love books.”

Another beat.

“And—uh…biology.”

Your brows furrowed slightly beneath the blindfold.

Something about his voice felt the same…yet so off—you couldn’t put your finger on it. Still warm. Still close. But friendlier. Less sharp around the edges. Like he was smiling too much while talking.

“I thought—you were teaching me chemistry,” you slowly replied, wondering if you’d made an error yourself. You could never rely too much on your knowledge—it had failed you many, many times—but you recalled the title written in red capital letters on the syllabus, printed there for you as a warning.

Caution: you and chemistry…had no chemistry.

A lapse stretched between you.

Then a soft, nervous chuckle. “Right. Yeah. Chemistry. Obviously.” You heard a swish, like he ran a hand through his hair. “Interdisciplinary approach?”

Interdisciplinary?

Satoru had never simplified a word for you. Not even once. He weaponized vocabulary like it was a part of the curriculum. But this—this sounded like someone pretending to be intelligent.

“You’ve never mentioned biology before,” you said carefully.

“Sure I have,” he shot back swiftly. With that same edfortless swiftness from before. “Atoms. Cells. Same vibe.”

Same vibe?

Your lips parted—unsure of how to respond.

The real Satoru would’ve corrected you by now. He would’ve sighed. Maybe even muttered something condescending about your academic survival rate.

Instead, this version of him felt…easier to talk to—to understand.

“You’re acting weird,” you murmured.

“Me? Weird?” He laughed, not offended by your observation. “You’re the one blindfolded in my room.”

That sent a flush racing down your spine. Right. You were quite literally on all fours, wet and waiting for his cock.

But still, your gut insisted that something was wrong.

“Say something only you would say,” you challenged softly.

Another pause loitered.

You could practically hear the gears turning.

“…Periodic table,” he answered.

Your lips dipped downward.

“That’s not a sentence.”

“Right. Uh.” Another shuffle. “Wait. Wait. I got one…electronegativity.”

You almost ripped the blindfold right off.

Was he on drugs? Your brain slipped into another dimension. Did he leave the room to like…microdose intelligence or something? Snort powdered equations off a ruler? Did nerds even do that? Or was that just the finance majors?

Being the highest-ranked student in the entire university had to come with a lot of pressure. Maybe he had a secret stash labeled ‘Emergency Brain Boost.’

Or maybe…maybe he was just nervous.

That thought made your stomach flip and perform a bunch of other tricks.

Because Satoru—the Gojo Satoru—cold, condescending terrifyingly intelligent Satoru—nervous?

Over you?

You swallowed. “Satoru.”

“Yeah?”

“…You sound different.”

The room went quiet.

“Different how?” He asked, lower now. Less playful.

And that was the problem.

The real Satoru didn’t lower his voice like that.

He sharpened it.

This one softened it.

You hesitated, “…like you don’t hate me right now.”

And for the first time since he’d walked back into the room, he didn’t have a clever retort ready.

“Oh.”

You smiled beneath the blindfold, fingers flexing against the sheets. You acted like it didn’t sting when he didn’t deny it. What were you expecting for him to say? “No, I don’t hate you?” Maybe something more fairytale—“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. Will you be my girlfriend?”

You swallowed, shaking your head at the delusional fantasy. It sounded unrealistic, even in your own mind. But still, the idea of hearing those words…of him saying the like he meant it—yeah, that would’ve been nice. A perfect, shiny little moment you would treasure forever.

Then he’d kiss you. Hard and slow, like his mouth was the thing keeping you both tethered to reality. Kissing you until your lungs burst, until every breath was shared between the two of you.

But this, this wasn’t that.

This wasn’t a fairytale.

You weren’t that girl—the type he would go for. Right?

“Oh? That’s all you got to say? You’re beginning to sound a lot like me.”

He laughed, full-bellied and genuine. “Yeah. I’ll just lose the thick glasses and I’ll be all set.”

You grinned at the contagious sound coming out of his mouth. “Right. The glasses.” You paused, musing over their distinctive shape. “They’re like super thick.”

“…Yeah,” he echoed, a little too loudly. “Thick. They’re meant to be like, academically intimidating.”

You hummed, dragging your knees an inch closer to where you felt his warmth. “Then come here, academically intimidating Satoru.”

There was another shuffle. Fabric brushing fabric. He clearly hadn’t expected that.

“I—yeah. Okay. I can do that.”

He stepped closer—close enough that you could feel the hesitation in the air, the way his breathing hitched like he was trying to remember lines in a play he hadn’t auditioned for.

“You, uh…sure you wanna keep calling me that?” He asked, cautiously.

You angled your head. “Calling you what?”

“Satoru.”

You giggled. “That’s your name, silly.”

“…Right. Obviously. My name. Totally.”

Another awkward pause—followed by a quiet, almost disbelieving exhale. “Wow,” he muttered under his breath. “You really can’t see under this thing, huh?”

“No,” you teased. “Why? Nervous?”

He scoffed—cocky, but just a little cracked at the edges. “Me? Never. Just…recalibrating.”

“Recalibrating?”

There he goes—using big words again.

“Yeah,” he responded hurriedly. “New angle. New…uh…variables.”

You smiled, reaching blindly for him until your fingers brushed fabric at his waist. He startled—actually startled. The air moved around you as if he had taken a step back from your touch.

“Okay,” he rasped from somewhere behind you, voice dropping an octave like he remembered he was supposed to be in control. “Don’t rush the genius.”

You bit your lip, even more turned on by the thought of him staring straight at your dripping cunt. “Then don’t make me keep begging you for you to touch me.”

He gulped. You could hear it, loud and clear.

“…Yeah,” he said, trying for smooth and landing somewhere adorably flustered. “I was literally about to.”

The mattress suddenly dipped, his energy dominating everything in the room.

You could feel him shift behind you, that familiar weight of his presence too close, too warm. His hands hovered for a minute, like he was thinking it over—like he wasn’t sure whether he was doing this right.

“Alright, alright,” he mumbled to himself, his breath tepid against the shell of your ear as he tugged at the loose corset laces. “This is fine. We got this.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his half-assed self assurance. It was like he was faking this smooth persona, but you could sense the nervous energy buzzing beneath the surface.

With a slight grunt, his hands pulled the laces just a little tighter. He gave a soft chuckle, though it sounded more like a nervous laugh. “Okay, okay. Not so bad, huh?”

He tugged again, the fabric loosening around you, but just enough to make things feel like they were starting to slip into a new territory. You could feel him leaning closer, too close, as he reached around to adjust the corset.

“Uh…don’t mind me,” he said, almost too casually, fingers fumbling with the fabric for a second, treating it like it was some weird, never-before-seen contraption. “I’m just making sure this fits right, y’know? Gotta get the angles perfect. I’d been told I’m good with adjustments.”

Your brows pinched together.

He’d taken this off before. More than once. Easily. Confidently. You’d only taught him how to do once—unlike you—who needed a long time for things to stick to your cranium—and suddenly he’d mastered the art of removing lingerie. Like he’d invented bras and personally designed their clasps just to remove them from you.

But now?

There was a pause. A tiny fumble. The faintest exhale of frustration.

He slowly started pulling the remaining laces free. The movement was slow, purposeful, like he was testing how far he could go without overwhelming you. You felt the corset slacken against your body, the tension easing as each knot became undone.

“…Okay, hold on,” he mumbled, cursing lowly when he couldn’t work the laces out of the final knot.

A soft breath escaped his lips when he pulled the final lace. The corset loosened enough that you could feel the pressure against your ribcage easing until your lungs could finally fully expand. Still, the front busks held firm. He steadied your waist and rotated the garment around your torso, the cool metal pressing against your back.

He hesitated, fingers resting on the dip of your spine.

A flicker of doubt sparked—but your pride smothered it instantly.

Everything about this session was making your bimbo brain gymnastics really shine.

Oh my God, stop being dramatic!

Obviously there was a logical explanation.

Maybe it was because your corset was different today. Yes! That had to be it.

And yes, he was genius, but maybe genius only applied to like…organic compounds. And equations. And whatever else boys with glasses did.

Corsets were more of a…feminine engineering field.

Lingerie infrastructure was entirely different branch of science.

You wore the underbust one—the one with the criss-cross lacing—instead of the less-complicated overbust. Maybe the clasps were smaller. Or shinier. Or…nerds weren’t good with textures? That sounded right.

Or maybe—

“Why are there so many hooks?” He whispered, genuinely confused. “They kinda look like tiny teeth,” he added, almost in awe, like he’d stumbled upon a new species.

You giggled, finding his new sense of humor to be adorable, but you were steadily losing your composure. “It’s okay. They’re not gonna bite you.”

He didn’t respond, hands too occupied with unclasping each hook, one at a time, ceremoniously taking his time with the task like he was performing heart surgery. Each tiny hook was a delicate operation.

“I—uh—I think I got this!” He said very enthusiastically—a eureka moment for him. “Just gotta—uh—yeah.”

Now you were growing impatient and your horny-meter was acting gimmicky—the gauge switching over the full side—your pussy was aching to be stuffed.

“Satoru—are you, like, doing this on purpose?” You whined.

“Doing…what?”

“Stalling!” You exclaimed, your lips forming an exaggerated pout. “Do you like…not want to fuck me?”

There was a sharp pause.

“W-what?” He spluttered, coughing a little, the confidence crumbling with every passing second. “I—no! I mean—yeah! I do! ’Course I do!”

You could hear the panic in his tone, and the way his hands moved frantically as he disassembled more clasps like he’d been given a sudden pop quiz on his feelings.

“Then why’re you taking so long?” You asked, half-exasperated, half-annoyed. “Do you need more to time to, like, figure it out?”

“Figure it out? I already—what? Figure what out? I mean—I know what I’m doing, alright?” He sighed dramatically. “You’re, like, super hot, okay? And like, I don’t wanna mess this up or anything. Y’know? Like, I wanna be good at this.”

“Wait, what?” You asked, a little breathless. “Hot? Me? Really?”

There was another awkward cough from behind you, like he was kicking himself for sounding so out of character.

“I mean—yeah! You are. Obviously!” He cleared his throat again, his voice rising a few octaves higher.“You’re really hot and…you don’t need me to say it, but you are so beautiful—like, ridiculously, insanely beautiful. I just…I just don’t wanna ruin things.”

You tilted your head, still processing. Hot? And beautiful? Really? Two compliments without a single insult in between? This was the guy who thought you couldn’t even pronounce half of the periodic table correctly. He called you a “walking disaster” every time you messed up a formula. Why was he now just acting like he’d figured out how beautiful you were?

His words rushed out in a tumble, and you had to fight a full-blown grin. Your chest was swelling at his unexpected sweetness.

He sounded so similar of the version you’d meet on campus.

Wait, maybe he was just saying that to make me feel better because I’m like too much of a mess to even get this off myself.

“—there!” He eagerly detached the final clasp, sounding far too triumphant for someone who’d just defeated a piece of lingerie.

The corset loosened completely, falling away from your body in a soft cascade of fabric. Your bra followed a second later—more fumbling, a quiet mutter—until the straps slid from your shoulders and disappeared somewhere behind you.

Cool air kissed your bare skin.

Your nipples were hard enough to cut glass—tingling from sensitivity.

“I told you I’d figure it out,” he said, proud—like he’d just solved a complex equation instead of wrestling with tiny metal hooks.

You felt his hands hover for a second, warm and uncertain before they settled back on your hips.

“You’re, uh,” he started, then stopped. A quiet exhale brushed your spine. You could literally feel his eyes assess your puffy folds, slick and ready. “You’re really…”

Wet?

Soaking?

The sentence dissolved into nothing.

Instead of finishing it, his weight pressed forward—careful this time—and printed a soft, almost shy kiss on your spine, like that said enough.

“I really…like where we left off,” he admitted against your skin, softer now. Honest.

Your pulse stuttered under his touch. Without sight, every single thing felt amplified—the heat of his palms, the way his thumb traced a slow, absentminded circles against your skin. Not possessive. Grounding.

“And where exactly did we leave off?” You playfully teased. “Need you to remind me…”

Satoru groaned from behind you. A soft, strained sound. Then, the mattress shifted again, and his body heat receded from your back.

For a split second, you thought he was just repositioning.

Your brows knitted faintly. “Hey—”

Another shift. Closer this time.

You straightened your posture and sat on your heels, swatting your hands in the air to feel for his solid frame. “Satoru? Are you playin’? C’mon, I thought you were gonna—”

Your fingers skimmed over a chest. A hand caught your wrist. Not rough. A swift movement. Steady. “Careful,” came a low murmur—closer than you expected.

Before you could place it, fingers slid to your jaw and titled your face upward. The blindfold made you hyperaware of everything—the warmth of his palm, the slow drag of them beneath your ear, the way his breath hovered just shy of your lips. Minty fresh.

Unless Satoru had brushed his teeth after eating you out earlier—

Your pulse skipped.

“Satoru?” You tried again, softer now.

He didn’t answer.

He kissed you instead.

Not a brush of the lips. Not a tease.

His mouth pressed against yours with controlled heat, firm enough to make whatever thoughts you had left, scatter instantly. The blindfold turned the kiss into something overwhelming—no visual cues, no smirk to decode, just sensation.

His lips moved slowly against yours, deliberate, claiming. When you instinctively leaned forward—to get more of him—he let you, but only just enough. Like he was measuring how much you gave before he could reward you.

Your fingers fisted into his shirt, tethering yourself.

This wasn’t playful.

This wasn’t taunting.

This was intentional.

His hand coasted from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers threading lightly into your hair, deepening the kiss without breaking its control. The sound you made was soft and unguarded.

He swallowed it.

Behind you, the mattress creaked faintly.

You barely noticed.

Because when he kissed you again, it was deeper—slower, but heavier, his mouth angling just enough to make your breath hitch. The blindfold made you feel lightheaded. You couldn’t see the expression on his face. You couldn’t see the shift.

All you had was the difference.

And it was undeniable.

You pulled back barely, lips grazing his as you whispered, perplexed and breathless. “…That’s not how you kiss.”

A pause.

A thumb traced once along your throat, where your pulse hummed.

“No,” he agreed quietly.

And only then did the lightbulb inside you head flicker.

Your stomach performed something close to acrobatics. “…You’re—you’re not—”

He just leaned in again—a hairbreadth away—like he wanted you to feel exactly who had been kissing you all along.

A quiet, familiar chuckle sounded somewhere from behind you.

Your entire body locked up.

The hand on your neck didn’t move. But the laugh was undoubtedly not coming from the mouth pressed to yours.

“…S-Satoru?” You said with clear hesitation.

“Yeah?” Came an answer.

Again, from behind you.

Your pulse banged against your ribs—hard, fast.

No sound came from the man in front of you.

He didn’t pull away.

Just breathed against your mouth—inhaling as you exhaled—an exchange of some sort that was weirdly intimate and confusing.

Another voice. Lower.

Closer.

“Wrong guess.”

Your fingers flew to the blindfold, tearing it off your face.

Eyes fluttered as they adapted to the light, the room snapping into focus.

Two men.

Identical.

You gasped—loudly—eyes wide and stunned.

One was kneeling directly in front of you, hand still wrapped around your wrist, eyes warm and dazzling blue. Not surprised, but sheepish.

The other was sitting on the edge of the bed, behind you, watching with infuriating calm.

Your jaw fell open.

“You—”

You looked at one. The familiar Satoru with the knit sweater and glasses.

Then the other.

He looked like he’d stepped out of a recruitment poster—broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his white-tee—his frat’s logo stamped on the front—sleeves tight around his biceps, one wrong move and he’d rip the whole thing. His built wasn’t just muscular, it was sturdy. Solid. The same as his twin, only he showed it off instead of hiding it underneath loose clothing.

He wore a cap backwards, the brim sitting low against his neck like a lazy declaration of “I don’t care.” Pale strands of hair pushed out from the front, soft and slightly unruly, brushing his forehead in a way that looked accidental but somehow worked.

He smiled like nothing rattled him—a guy who strolled through life as if the rules don’t apply to him. But the way his eyes tracked every detail, the way they shone brilliantly with something unnamed, told a different story.

“Got some assistance for your lesson,” Satoru said, smirking at you. His glasses caught the light as he fixed them—precise, studious. Up close, the frames didn’t soften him at all, they only emphasized his patronizing gaze. “Try not embarrass me in front of my brother,” he added lightly. It didn’t sound like a joke.

“B-brother?” You squeaked, staring at him like he’d cloned himself—which was ironic given the circumstances.

His mouth curled slowly, like he was savoring the moment. “Aw,” your tutor said, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Did no one tell you?” He leaned forward, invading your space without hesitation. “Yeah. Meet my twin, Souta.”

Like he was introducing a party trick. Not a person.

The “random guy” sitting in front of you grinned—straightening slightly like he’d been waiting for his cue. “Nice to finally meet you properly,” he breezily spoke up, eyes scanning you appreciatively.

“Twin?” You gawked at him, your interactions hitting you full force.

You remembered your conversations on campus—

The awkward flirtation. The stilted jokes. How he’d blush one second…and smirk the next. How sometimes he couldn’t look into your eyes—and other times he couldn’t look away.

Your breath caught.

“Oh my God…I don’t even know what’s real anymore!” You screeched, flailing your hands a little. “Wait…I must be dreaming!” You pinched yourself and shrieked. “Ouch! Okay, definitely not dreaming!”

Satoru smirked. “No, ditzy girl. You’re wide awake. I brought him to help with your lesson…since you weren’t exactly catching on.”

“Ohhh…wait…he’s here to help me?” You gaped at him, panic-stricken like you were given two options on a multiple choice test—fifty-fifty chance of getting it correct. “But…but which one am I supposed to listen to?!”

Satoru rolled his eyes. “Relax. We’re going to give you a demonstration first.”

“A demonstration?” You echoed with wide eyes, voice shrill. He was so not calming your frazzled nerves. “Wait…are you gonna show me together?!” Your hands waved again. “I-I don’t know if I can handle that! I might, like, faint or something!”

“Don’t worry,” Satoru said, but his tone indicating that you should, in fact, be worried. “We’ll try not to overwhelm you too much.”

You blinked at him, heart hammering. “Oh…o-okay…maybe I can…maybe I can watch?”

“You have to participate,” Satoru insisted in a way that left no room for arguments.

You breath lodged in your throat, wide eyes flickering between the twins. “P-participate?” You stammered, voice shaking. “I-I can’t…I don’t know if I can do this.”

Satoru’s grin widened as he leaned closer, his presence asphyxiating. “You don’t have a choice, ditzy girl,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You hands instinctively pressed to your chest, your pulse thundering as you tried to gather your thoughts, but your body was already betraying you.

“I’m not ready for this,” you mumbled, alarmed, but there was something in the way his body was positioned, so close to yours, that made it hard to focus on anything else.

Satoru scooted even closer, his gaze locked on you, and despite the teasing tone, there was something commanding in his voice. “You asked for this lesson,” he said, crossing his arms. “Now it’s time to learn.”

Souta’s hand engulfed your own, reassuringly, his touch heavy, as if savoring how your skin felt. “You’ll be fine,” he murmured, his eyes glinting, and he removed his hand. “Just follow along.”

Your worries dissipated like smoke, and you nodded, trying to steady your breathing. “What…what do you want me to do?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper, your fingers twitching.

Satoru gave you a small, approving smile, but his eyes were sharp as he crowded your space. “Good girl,” he actually praised you—a rare occurrence—his voice low and rich with authority. “Now, just relax and let him show you. You’re here to learn, right?”

Souta leaned in, his face now only inches away, and the air felt impossibly thick. “I’ll show you exactly what you need to know,” his voice smooth, almost comforting, but there was an edge to it.

Your hands trembled as you slowly brought them up, unsure of what to do. “W-what do you need me to do first?” You whispered, eyes dancing between them, feeling more exposed by the second.

For the first time, Souta’s lips stretched into a wicked grin, thumbs grazing your knuckles gently but firmly. “Just sit back and let us handle the rest,” he said softly, but the demand was there, unmistakable.

Satoru watched with a knowing smirk, his posture relaxed, as if he were simply observing something interesting. “You’re going great,” he said lightly. “Now…get on all fours again.”

“W-what?” You uncertainly said, your cheeks were flushing with embarrassment. “You want me to—again?” Your eyes slid to Souta. “Like…in front of him?”

Satoru exhaled, his patience clearly wearing thin. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened. “Yes, ditzy girl,” he said, the words clipped. “You’re already naked, aren’t you?”

Your face flared an even brighter shade of red at the reminder, and you immediately tried to pull your legs together, there was nowhere to hide. “I…I don’t know if I can do this again,” you mumbled, glancing back at Souta, whose eyes were gleaming with expectation, almost like he was a watching a show.

“You’ve already come this far,” Satoru said with an edge. “So don’t back out now.”

You swallowed hard, the command in his voice was enough to make you hesitate. “Okay…” you agreed, slowly moving back into position, this time facing the desk at the front of the room. You could feel the embarrassment melt away, the feeling of your buzzing cunt outweighing everything, and you couldn’t help it.

Satoru’s eyes moved to his brother, as if sending him a signal. Without a warning, he took off his sweater, revealing his toned chest. A body that didn’t belong to a stereotypical nerd—honed and chiseled. His eyes never looked away, making sure you could watch him as he undressed.

Souta followed suit—and you turned to him—more curious about how he looked underneath. His motions were more casual but not less deliberate. The two of them moved in sync, like they’d done this before—each shedding their clothes with swift confident ease, the ambiance between you crackling.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Souta, appreciating the refined contours of his body, a teasing trail of hair poking from the waistline of his boxers. He tugged them down, his cock springing free, pale and long with a slight curve.

Your eyes roamed freely, mouth watering at how massive he was. And here you foolishly thought Satoru had the biggest dick you had ever seen.

You were highly mistaken.

Souta sauntered over, heedful at first, approaching you the same way you’d felt while blindfolded. “Take it in your hands for me,” he said, referring to his cock, voice warm and inviting.

You glanced up at him, your hands shaking as you fought to you steady yourself, but there was no turning back now. Not when you the curiosity was buzzing through your veins, and not when your brain was this lust-addled.

“Wait,” you said, gnawing on your lips nervously, “I’ve never done it with, like…twins before.” You blinked, your voice breathy and unsure. “Is it different?”

Souta’s grin expanded, his eyes lighting up as they took in your flustered state. “Oh, it’s different alright,” he said with a low chuckle. “But I think you’ll figure it out.”

Satoru, standing off to the side, watched the scene unfold. “Don’t overthink it,” he said, his tone casual but with an undertone of assertive. “You’re learning exactly what you wanted.”

You nodded eagerly, even more flustered, but still curious. “Oh, okay,” you mumbled, your fingers twitching as if they were about the act before your mind would catch up. “I guess I can try…”

Your fingers closed around the base—nails clicking together—and Souta’s breath caught, a soft groan escaping him. You felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach and a nervous giggle bubbled out before you could stop it.

“Oh my God, it’s…heavy,” you mused, the weight of his cock both figurative and real, settling deep in your chest as you tried to gather your bearings.

Souta’s icy gaze never wavered from you, his eyes brewing with something unreadable. “Yeah,” he said quietly, voice tinged with raspiness. “You get used to it.”

Carefully, you moved your fist up and down his shaft at the same time he began jostling his hips. His cock bobbed with the rhythm, tip leaking with precum—Oh my God, the color is even prettier than Satoru’s, you dreamily thought, getting distracted from jerking him off. It’s like a salmon pink! Maybe flamingo? Or is it more on the peachy side? Hm…doesn’t matter—new manicure color unlocked!

You couldn’t wait to tell your nail tech.

“Keep going,” Souta encouraged, misinterpreting your pause as hesitation from nerves. His gaze remained intense, focused on you as if waiting for you to prove yourself.

You shifted slightly, your fingers still wrapped around it, feeling him get hard with every pump. You were growing more confident, despite his larger size, but you managed to adjust your grip, wrist bending and unbending, fist rotating upward until you found the right pace for him.

His eyes followed your every action, a strained smile touching his lips. “Good. Just like that,” he said, voice thick with satisfaction. “But you can stop now…”

“Stop?” You questioned, frowning, your fingers still poised, unsure of exactly what he wanted. “Did I—”

“Need your mouth, princess,” Souta said, his voice velvety but with almost self-conscious ease, like he was still trying to get the hang of sounding like a natural. “Open up.”

Your mouth parted open on command, feeling Souta thrust his cock in—the sharp, salty taste of him coating your tongue. Lips slid closed, sealing around his girth before sliding further, working your jaw to take his all length, but gave up halfway.

“Wider, princess,” Souta panted, pushing deeper past your resisting throat. You gagged, then slowly eased, letting your muscles relax. “Good girl, knew you could take it all in,” he murmured softly. “You look even prettier with your lips around my cock.”

Suddenly, you felt the weight of another presence behind you. Warmth spread across your back as Satoru, silently enveloped your frame, his breath brushing against the back of your neck. You stiffened, eyes wide as he positioned himself behind you, his energy overpowering in a way you couldn’t escape.

Pressure heightened when you felt the tip sliding between your puffy folds, moving up and down the slit, using your slick as a lubricant before he pushed through the ringed interior. You moaned at the stretch, at how easily he filled you, hands palming your hips until he bottomed out. Hips molded over the swell of your ass, bodies fitting together like a puzzle piece.

Souta’s smile never dimmed as he peered down, his voice low, coaxing you. “Just relax,” he muttered. “It’s just the next step.”

Satoru let out a condescending snicker. “You should see the view from here. Her pussy’s gripping me like a fucking vice,” he snapped his hips forward in a cruel thrust, forcing a broken sound from you as the tears welled when the tip of Souta’s cock hit the back of your throat. Hard. “Hm. Your gag reflex needs more practice. I forgot—you’re not exactly great with basics, are you? Thought this was something you’d already have down.”

All you could manage was a quiet whimper around Souta’s cock, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to control your breathing, the sensation overwhelming. Drool slipped from the corners of your mouth, your eyes lifting slowly. You caught sight of Souta’s gaze, his eyes connecting with yours with tenderness that made you question what you really saw.

He slid out an inch, making you trace the underside vein with your tongue before he fully thrusted back in, short hairs tickling the tip of your nose. You moaned again, eyes fluttering from the crushing pressure from both ends. Souta caressed your jaw, thumb wiping away the saliva smeared on your chin. You could taste the precum inside your mouth, leaking down your throat.

“Are you okay, princess?” Souta asked softly, brows furrowing as he looked down at you with concern. When he pulled out of your mouth, you gasped for air, the rush filling your lungs. A thin trail of spit connected your lips to his cock before breaking, shaft glazed with a fresh coat of saliva.

“Y-yeah,” you coughed, your voice hoarse from the roughness of your breath betraying the tension hovering over the three of you. Eyes shining with faux-innocence, you glanced up, raking your nails over his thighs, feeling his shudder from your touch. “I want you in my mouth again…wanna keep tasting you.”

Prying your mouth open and sticking your tongue out, Souta dangled his cock, letting you swipe at the crown, laving every bump over the stretched skin. You licked the slit at the top, mouthing the perimeter of the crown and moaning from the addictive taste of his salty drippings. Your cunt was palpitating around Satoru, demanding attention, and you threw your hips backward, the ache traveling through.

“Eaaaasy, ditzy girl,” Satoru groaned, rolling his hips to drill deeper into you, a breath of taunting laughter slipping through his teeth. “I know you’re eager to come, but you gotta work on your patience.”

Souta thrusted his cock all the way back inside, fingers gripping your scalp to keep you in place. This time, you guzzled all his length, letting it slip through without resistance. The thick circumference of cock filled you once more, lips stretching and fitting around him like a glove. The three of you were now bridged again—you as their cocksleeve from both holes. Any movement completely stopped for a moment, both presences going still as if agreeing on something.

“Souta,” the nerdy twin called out from behind you. “You ready?”

A brief pause followed.

Then Souta let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. Never been more ready.”

Hands grasped your hips as Satoru leaned forward, folding over you, the faint edge of a smirk in his voice. “Hope you’re ready for your lesson, ditzy girl. Try to keep up this time.”

You barely had time to inhale before they started moving again, the sudden shift stealing whatever garbled reply had been forming on your lips.

Their rhythm surged all at once, both of them tugging you in different directions. Souta fucked your throat, angling his hips to pace himself, shallow strokes massaging the ringed interior. At the same time, Satoru was thrusting his cock, bucking his hips to scratch at your walls, leaking tip nudging your cervix every time he ground deeper.

“Pay close—mph—attention,” Satoru growled, pace turning rough—savage—heavy balls slapping against your cunt. “Don’t let our cocks distract you.”

With a mouth full of cock, all you could do was whine. Souta pushed in, your throat expanding with every thrust, fingers curling into your hair as his eyes watched you carefully, almost studying. Despite how your body felt taut, like a thread about to break under pressure, you slurped his cock, deepthroating while you swallowed, treating it like it was your last meal.

“Fuck—fuck, look at this pussy,” Satoru hissed, and you felt his hand between your legs, wedging you further apart, you knees seconds away from giving out. “So wet…dripping down my balls…making a fucking mess.”

Every thrust from each end made a squelchy, obscene sound—your mouth, your pussy—rocking back and forth—united as one. A fucked up shape where you were all coordinated, moving in a rhythm that left your mind spinning, where all you could feel was their cocks—fucking you over and over—harder, faster, stretching your body beyond its full potential. Your nails burrowed into Souta’s skin, deep into his thighs until you touched corded muscles. He groaned, neck lolling back as his cock throbbed inside your throat like it had its own heartbeat.

Satoru’s finger pads began playing with your clit, hips slowing down as tremors traveled down his length. His slippery chest pressed against your spine, breathing deeply by your ear before he gasped out, “Learned the lesson yet, ditzy girl?”

“Her mouth’s so wet and warm,” Souta panted from above you, his breath ragged as he looked down at you, a mix of heat and something softer in his eyes. His grip on your hair tightened slightly, and his breath hitched. “I’m close, princess,” he admitted, his voice thick with desire and need but laced with something more hesitant. “Should I stop, or…do you want me to pull out?”

“She swallows,” Satoru answered on your behalf since your mouth was occupied—your hands fondling Souta’s balls—squeezing and massaging them while you bobbed your head. “Go ahead and let her drink every single drop.”

“I want her—hah—to tell me,” Souta breathed, his voice rough—strained—as he drew back just slightly, his eyes dark with something possessive. “I need her to say it.”

You hummed softly around him, the sound low and approving, a subtle confirmation that echoed your own desire. Eyes brimming with more tears, you felt the pull between you grow, a sharp ache tugging you closer to that breaking point, where your body trembled with a mix of desperation and surrender.

Satoru touch became more insistent, one hand playing with your pulsing clit until the pressure turned unbearable, the other resting on the dip of your waist, keeping you perfectly arched. And then, like a wire pulled too far, everything snapped at once—your body exploded, finally giving away. A hollow scream escaped, raw and broken, as heat flooded through you, radiating out in waves around Souta’s cock.

“Oh, fuck!” The nerdy twin exclaimed, rhythm getting sloppy, his hips ramming into your ass, lewd slaps echoing as he kept pushing forward. His chest was heaving against you, panting out between his thrusts. “Look at how you’re—fuck—milking me. Squeezing around my cock like you love it. You love it, don’t you, ditzy girl. That’s the only thing—shit, shit—that makes your nonexistent brain work, right?”

“You’re gonna swallow for me, princess?” Souta grunted, body tensing as his dick twitched against your tongue. Just as you nodded, there was a stuttering motion in his hips, a fleeting lapse in rhythm, warmth surging and flooding the inside of your mouth. Thick, salty spurts of cum slid down your esophagus, and held it inside your mouth, gargling a bit, fighting the instinctive urge to spit it out.

Yeah, you loved sucking dick, but this was your least favorite part.

Souta pulled out of your mouth, chest cresting and falling as he looked down at you, pupils blown out with anticipation—watching, waiting as your throat worked and you swallowed his cum, a faint, satisfied edge curling at his lips.

“Good,” he murmured, voice low and rough with remnants of heat. “Just like that…you did so well, princess.”

Blinking up at him through tears, you let out a shaky breath, the briny aftertaste still lingering as warmth crept across your cheeks. Your lips parted like you meant to say something, but no words came out—only another soft exhale as you tried to steady yourself under the heaviness of his gaze.

An abrupt yank from your hair brought you back to reality, your body jerking as the sharp pull made you yelp. Your neck bending backward as you were forced to look up, the pressure of his hand still tight but steady, controlling.

Satoru jostled his hips, every thrust jolting through you hard enough to make your body tense, every painful tug at your scalp a sharp contrast to the heat heightening between your legs. The headboard rattled in uneven bursts, matching the rough, punishing rhythm he set—fast, unrelenting, leaving no room to recover.

Around your neck, your necklace swayed like a pendulum—your knees careening forward until you had no choice but to take stroke after stroke. Dazed, you searched for Souta, spotting him by the desk, head turned away like he didn’t want to witness you getting fucked by his twin. You closed your eyes, allowing your bodies to frantically slide against each other—your own hips reeling backward—feeling his balls smack against your cunt.

Wet slaps bounced off the walls as he drilled into you, your pussy drooling and sloshing like it was speaking in a filthy language. Slick spouted out around his girth, running in warm rivulets down your back thighs. Your jaw fell open with sounds of your moans on loop, growing louder, degrading into shaky, raspy breaths. Each exhale came out fractured, your composure slipping the more he yanked at your hair.

“H-hurts—my neck—” You whimpered, and he immediately let go, your head flopping over—tension draining from your muscles. Satoru’s hands returned to your waist, effortlessly hoisting your ass up, keeping you arched with your stomach resting on the mattress.

“Shit, I’m done for,” Satoru growled as you convulsed, holding your hips tight, rolling your cunt over his length, from front to back—a slick drag that left you breathless. “Fuck—your pussy’s gonna be the death of—” The sentence was left incomplete, being replaced by a groan that shook you to the core, grip digging deeper into your skin, keeping you there no matter how much you trembled, no matter how overstimulated you’d become.

“God…fuck…” he rasped, raw and ragged, his body shuddering as he lost momentum. A low growl tore from his chest, and the heat of his cum spilling inside made your muscles clench around him, every nerve screaming.

Your back bowed, your walls fluttering uncontrollably before you came, crying from the overstimulation, hot tears skating down your cheeks. He didn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm, pelvis canting to push in his every drop of his seed, making sure he marked you from the inside out.

Then, he stilled—trembling against your spine, sweaty and panting like he had just crossed the finish line.

What felt like eons later, Satoru finally released you, your body collapsing like you were a limbless, broken thing. Muscle draped over you, pressing you into the damp sheets, skin pasting to skin, heartbeats pounding like a ticking clock.

“….lesson’s not over yet, ditzy girl,” he murmured, pressing his face into you neck, voice wrecked and reverent.

He lazily rolled his hips, rutting into you—half-hard—expanding your inner walls.

“C’mon—ngh—time for you to do some work,” Still connected, Satoru pulled you onto his lap, your back plastered flush against his chest.

The abrupt repositioning stole your breath, your body instinctively tensing before sagging against him. His grip tightened at your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to keep you there.

“Don’t just sit there,” he scoffed under his breath, lips close to your ear. “Bounce on this cock, ditzy girl.”

An avalanche of energy slammed into you, icy pin-pricks traveling through your physique. Chest heaving, your rose up your along his length, blunt tip trapped between your pussylips, head spinning from the intoxicating friction as you fed your cunt, inch by agonizing inch. You gave a few experimental bounces, eyes rolling whenever his tip possessively branded against your tender womb.

“That’s it,” Satoru growled from behind, his voice soaked in an strange mixture of patronizing praise and unapologetic desire. “That’s what you excel in, huh? Hopping on dick—hah—getting fucked and wrecked…” he snickered, low and mean. “If there was a class on riding cock, you would definitely—ngggh—get an A. Talk about academic achievement.”

All you could do was mewl, moving faster into a mindless rhythm, chasing your next orgasm. Through the blur of motion, a flicker at the edge of your vision caught your attention. Your head lifted slightly, breath hitching as your eyes tracked the movement—his twin lingering just within reach.

Much to your surprise, Souta picked up your lace panties off the floor, not so discreetly, like he wanted you to catch him the act. Panty-thief, you thought, a delirious little smile tugging at your lips despite everything. He walked over to the desk and dropped into the chair, your panties still dangling loosely from his fingers.

His gaze dragged over you, every move purposeful as his fingers wrapped around his cock, the faintest smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Idly twirling the lace between his fingers with the other hand, he cloaked the tip with the flimsy fabric.

Getting more comfortable, the frat boy sat sprawled on the chair, the gusset of your lace panties hanging over his cockhead like some ridiculous flag of victory, utterly shameless about it. He spat in his hand before he jerked forward and back in uneven motions, barely bothering to hide the urgency behind it. He made sure you were watching, timing his rhythm with the way you bounced on his brother’s cock, balancing on your tippy toes, hamstrings tightening as you lifted yourself up and down with practiced poise, pussy fluttering around him.

You rode him with a relentless pace, shifting to grinding your clit desperately against the base of his cock like you wanted to melt into his body. Your knees barely buckled—Souta watched you, wide-eyed, lips agape—your pussy swallowing and spitting cock, and you couldn’t help but smile smugly. Yeah, that’s right, you mentally commended yourself. Never underestimate the legs of a girl who spent half her time in six-inch heels, shopping for hours, and burning through cardio faster than swiping her credit card.

“F-fuck—fuck, take it easy—” Satoru grunted from behind you, his hands were on your hips, blunt nails holing into your flesh. You arched your spine, the pleasure nestling inside your core. “I’m—ngggh—gonna c-come.”

You walls were squeezing his throbbing cock, the tip nudging your tender spot with every bounce. Slick trickled filthily down his length, your pussy dragging upward, lathering the shaft with milky residue, you were making a cobwebbed mess on his thighs, and drenching the patch of pubic hair at the bottom. Abdomen tensing underneath you—cock pulsing inside your walls—yet you kept riding him, your skin smacking against his, ass recoiling on his lap.

“Can’t…you feel good—ah—inside me,” you rasped, looking over your shoulder at his disheveled appearance—gasping at the unexpected tears trailing down flushed cheeks. “Satoru? Are you crying?”

“Fuuuck, oh God—fuck,” he whimpered, throwing his head back, snowy lashes fluttering shut like he was on the brink of losing himself. “You feel—mph—fuck!” His eyes flew open, sudden, wild, like a devil had possessed him. Was your pussy that powerful, enough to make a grown man cry?

“Oh my God!” You giggled, delighted, holding back a gleeful squeal. “I can’t believe you’re crying.”

“S-shut up!” Satoru stuttered, the words sounding less menacing and more ardent.

“Do you want me to stop?” You cooed, never breaking out of your stride.

“N-no! Jesus fuck—don’t you dare,” he hissed, trying to glare at you, but his body turned traitorous. His muscles pulled tight, the whites of his eyes flashing as his control slipped. “Fuck—fuuuck. Yes—yes, ride me just like that.”

You obliged, imagining you were a little, happy bunny, hopping on his cock—each movement pushing him deeper, making him whine. Every bounce, every controlled stroke made him lose that edge, turning him into a mess under you.

His fingers dented your hips, desperate, but unable to stop you. He was at your mercy, completely helpless, babbling incoherently—a bunch of nonsense—his breath coming out in uneven gasps. His skin tinged pink, cheeks puffing out as he fought to breathe through it, eyes teary and wide, like he was on the brink of going insane.

And you were loving every second of it.

“Fuck—your pussy feels so good,” Satoru rasped, holding your hips so hard you could feel them bruise. “Fuck, I don’t ever wanna leave—shiiiit—”

He lifted you a few inches higher, surrendering with a broken whimper when you dropped back down. You threw your head back, taking one of his trembling hands before you placed it over your tit. Satoru understood what you needed, fingers tweaking your perky nipple that sent shocks to your pussy, hips pumping upward, your sticky walls vacuuming his cock. Glancing backwards at him, you catalogued his pussydrunk expression, cross-eyed, not a single thought in his mind. Except maybe—maybe the feeling of your to-die-for pussy.

No. Not to die for. To go dumb for.

He completely abandoned your tit, biting down on his bottom lip like that was supposed to stop the pathetic sounds escaping his mouth.

You giggled, facing the front, focusing on how Souta was jerking himself off. Running your tongue of your lips, you decided to tease him next, index and middle finger reaching between your legs, spreading your wet folds apart to show him how his brother’s cock went in and out. Swallowing a moan, you found your aching clit and drew dizzying patterns over it, your pussy spasming around Satoru, who responded with a strangled moan.

Your orgasm slammed into you without mercy, a hard collision that fired up every nerve inside your oversensitive body, your pussy violently pulsing, coming around him again. You couldn’t lift yourself, giving a final, weak bounce on his cock, toes curling so hard you almost dislocated your ankles. “Coming—Satoru, I’m coming. Oh! God—”

The three of you drowned in euphoria. Satoru’s cock began twitching manically inside you, almost slipping out of your gushing hole. On the chair, Souta was still pumping his length, pelvis stuttering like he was on the precipice of release, the vein on his thick neck popping out, eyes on you as if you’d disappear if he ever so blinked.

“C-come for me, Souta,” you moaned all dulcet and seductive, your nails biting into his twin’s thighs, hearing how he hissed behind you. You rutted against Satoru’s lap—frantic, desperate—sweat gliding down the curve of your spine, down your temples. “Do it for me.”

Your voice did the trick, both twins coming in unison from teetering on the edge—grunts echoing in the background. Satoru’s warm cum flooded your convulsing walls, you felt it trickle down your inner thighs. The fabric still draped over his cock darkened from his release, his touch lingering as the tension in the room had seeped into every part of you both. There was no need for words now—everything had been said in the way his hands moved, the way the space between you shifted.

With shaking legs, you got up—cum oozing out your hole—and you dragged yourself closer, collapsing beside Satoru, still flushed and boneless. You kept your eyes trained on Souta, at his tousled hair, the slick shine of sweat every ragged breath—looking every bit like a model from a fresh photoshoot than an horny frat boy who had just came all over your panties.

Souta stood up, clutching your lace underwear as if to show you the evidence he’d left behind. Creamy streaks painted the pink lace, and he noticed your gaze. With a cheeky grin, he shoved it behind his back, and a nervous laugh followed soon after. “Forget you saw that.”

You giggled, light and unbothered. “Don’t worry…you’ve earned it. It’s kinda like a prize, right?”

“Thanks, princess,” he said softly, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. “Every collection needs a first piece.”

Before you could answer, Satoru’s arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer. “You know,” he murmured against your ear, “the lesson’s technically not over yet.”

Heat bloomed in your chest and you glanced over at him. “Oh?”

Satoru’s smile turned suspiciously wicked. “Yeah. We still have practical applications.”

“Hey,” Souta muttered from nearby, not even bothering to look at you. “If you two are starting again, I’m leaving.”

Satoru smirked. “Who said you were invited? Your part of the lesson’s over. You’re free to go.”

“He can stay,” you blurted.

Satoru’s smirk faltered, brows lifting as he looked at you. “Oh, really?” Something sharp and curious flickered behind his eyes. “Didn’t realize you were his lawyer negotiating for him.”

You gave an anxious giggle. “It feels mean to kick him out.”

“Mean,” your tutor repeated, lips pressing into a hard line. “Sounds to me like you haven’t had enough of his cock yet.”

You didn’t deny it—you couldn’t. “So what?” You huffed, though your pulse thudded loud enough to drown out everything else.

“By all means,” Satoru ground out, not looking at you. “Don’t let me stop you.” His mouth twisted. “Fuck each other.”

Your eyes found Souta’s—bold, brazen—wondering how his thick cock would feel inside you. Your thighs pressed together, the wetness in between prominent with every clench. Biting on your lower lip, fingertips reached for your necklace. You toyed with the diamond letters, tracing their jagged edges before letting your hand glide down your throat, over your collarbone…and lower, until your touch brushed over your stiffened nipples.

Souta watched you like you were a miracle unfolding in real time, something too beautiful to look away from.

“Souta…” you purred, the name slipping out of your mouth like a quiet plea, voice low and teasing, and just enough to make him crave more. “Don’t you want to take care of me? I really like it when someone takes care of me,” you whispered, almost breathless, the words simple but saturated with unintended temptation.

Your thighs fell open, glossy cunt on display—clit buzzing again. You were basically dangling meat to a hungry lion, offering your pussy to him on a silver platter.

Souta’s eyes smoldered, breath ragged and drawn, feet advancing, already lost in your spell. But just as he was about to cross the line, he paused—frozen, as if a sudden storm had brushed his senses, warning him of what was coming.

Satoru spoke up, waving a hand like he was granting him permission. “Go for it, little brother.”

The twins shared a look, identical and loaded with meaning, like a silent conversation between them. The air between them thickened, like a secret was passing—only that only they knew, and only you were about to unravel.

Souta’s lips tipped into relaxed smile, confidence settling back into place as the tension ebbed. “I may be your little brother,” he drawled, “but there’s nothing little about me.”

Satoru hummed, eyes sharp despite the easy smile. “We’ll see,” he murmured. “Would be a shame if you disappoint her.”

When he got to the edge of the bed, he climbed onto it with a fluid motion, his eyes never leaving yours. He slowly crawled toward you, his every movement making your nerves fray even more. Now he was almost between your parted knees, the distance between you narrowing with every breath you took, making you dizzy from the proximity.

Souta’s gaze stole the breath out of your lungs, self-assurance lacing into every line of him. “Trust me,” he said softly, “she won’t be disappointed.”

You tilted your head, lips spreading just slightly. “I don’t think I could be disappointed,” you said sweetly. “Not with you.”

He grinned, eyes softening. “You certainly seem to have a lot of faith in me, princess.”

You smiled, all soft and trusting. “Mhm,” you agreed. “You just look like you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” he confirmed, though there was a faint hesitation threading in his tone. “I can show you… if you’d like.”

“Yes, come and touch—”

“Hold on, frat boy,” Satoru cut in and disregarded your request, voice light, but unamused. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Souta.”

“Souta,” you whined, “don’t listen to him, and—”

The frat boy shook his head in disagreement, not listening to a single word you had to say. “Nah…I don’t think so,” he drifted even closer, movements careful, almost measured—like he was easing himself into something he didn’t trust himself with.

Satoru’s brows raised, almost impressed. “That’s big talk for Protein Shake Guy,” he taunted. “Don’t choke now.”

Okay, now you needed to distract them, as soon as possible.

You angled your head innocently as you set your plan in motion, fingers absently playing with your necklace once again. “You know…I kinda already choked earlier,” you added brightly, like it was relevant.

Both twins froze.

A short laugh escaped Souta’s mouth, eyes flicking away for a second like he was replaying it in his head. “Yeah…I noticed,” he said, grimacing a little.

“No worries though!” You chirped, eyes straying to the monster between his legs, practically salivating at the pearly bead oozing out the slit. “After all…it is really…big.”

Souta’s eyes grew even larger, a flush creeping across his cheeks. He swallowed hard, and for a second, the confident mask slipped. “Uh, yeah,” he muttered, voice a little tighter than he intended. Then, he straightened quickly, letting a cocky grin spread over his face—too quick, too practiced. “My cock is definitely bigger than his,” Souta boastfully added, trying to sound smooth, “Guess you’ll need some extra prep, huh?”

“It’s not about size,” Satoru shot back with a smirk, rolling his eyes from behind his glasses. “It’s about performance, idiot.”

Souta grinned, unbothered by the insult, and gave an easygoing shrug. “I don’t know, man. I’m performing just fine. You’re just jealous.”

The nerdy twin darkly chuckled, shaking his head. “Jealous? Of who exactly? The guy whose brainpower runs on whey protein powder and unseasoned chicken breasts?”

“Dude,” Souta said, feigning offense, his eyes widening dramatically. “What’s wrong with protein powder? It builds muscle!” He flexed his arm—veins protruding under his slightly-tanned skin—and kissed his bicep with a cocky grin. “See? It works wonders man!”

Satoru let out a sarcastic scoff, eyeing his twin’s flex with an unimpressed glare. “Protein powder, huh? Looks like it’s the only thing keeping you from being completely useless.”

You pursed your lips, growing tired of their bickering—and the fact that they were both paying zero attention to you. “Can you both, like, just stop arguing? I’m right here!” You pouted, realizing this was probably the hundredth time you had to beg for their acknowledgement.

“Sorry, princess,” Souta apologized, crooked grin never faltering despite his brother’s mean remarks. His fingers hovered near your twitching hole, teasing the perimeter of your slit with a featherlight brush, knowing exactly how to make you squirm without going too far. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He buried them in, pulling out and back in, wetness lewdly echoing between your legs, two digits playing with your slick and his twin’s cum, varnishing them with secretions until they were shiny to the knuckles. Hooking them just right, pressing on that spot that made you lose your mind.

“Is…is this okay?” You rasped, bucking your hips for him as he kept his eyes locked on yours, watching for every subtle reaction, every shift in your body language. “You’re not, like, grossed out?”

“Why should I be, princess?” Souta answered with a carefree tone, spreading your slick folds apart to watch how swollen glossy interior you were underneath the yellowish lighting, clit poking out from below the hood, flushed and throbbing. Droplets of release flowing out your gaping hole the more he plunged his fingers inside. “We shared the same womb for nine months. Did you honestly think we wouldn’t share the same…y’know.”

You fixed a blank stare, not getting what he eluded to. “No. I don’t know.”

Souta’s cheeks burned a darker shade of crimson. “Uh…pussy.” The word sounded wrong coming from his mouth, like he’d borrowed it from someone else and used it.

Your eyes grew two sizes. “You share pussy?”

“We share a lot of things,” Satoru piped up nearby.

Your brows knitted together, puzzled by the vagueness of it all. “Yeah? Like…what?”

“Uh…” Souta diverted his gaze, shooting his twin a helpless look. “Like…bro. Help me out here.”

“Didn’t you like being shared earlier?” Satoru suddenly asked, something wicked pouring into his eyes. “Didn’t you like your holes stuffed with our cocks? That’s what a trigonal planar bond is like. The three of us…”

“Bonded together,” Souta finished for him, staring at you with unfiltered desire.

Your eyes ping-ponged between them, brain going blank. “A triangular what?”

Satoru exhaled like you’d deeply disappointed him. “Trigonal planar,” he repeated, slow and dramatic. “Three atoms. Equal angles. Perfect symmetry.”

You blinked. “Is that…a yoga pose?”

Souta was unsmiling, despite how silly your answer sounded.

“I already explained it to you earlier—it’s a molecular bond,” Satoru shook his head. “Perfect balance. All sides equally attached.”

You pointed a finger between the three of you. “So…we’re a shape?”

“Exactly,” Souta said, giving you a supportive smile.

You nodded slowly. “Ohhhh! So if one side slacks off, the whole thing collapses?”

They both went still.

“…Yes,” Satoru said carefully.

You gasped, getting excited over the concept. “So it’s basically a group project!”

Silence.

Satoru dragged hand down his face. “You’re still not getting it.”

“I think she is,” Souta muttered.

You beamed. “Wait…so am I correct?”

“Not entirely,” Satoru drawled.

Your face fell, eyes veering to the twin kneeling between your thighs.

Souta held your gaze for too long. Then, a small, almost secret smile curved his mouth. “Triangle,” he explained softly like you were the only ones in the room. “Three points. One center.”

With his free hand, he tapped the pad of his index finger lightly over your sternum, right where your necklace rested.

“You’re here.”

Your brain stalled. “Oh…”

Your hand instinctively came up to where his touched, like you were checking if something changed. “That’s uh…” You swallowed. “That’s a lot of responsibility.” You tried to laugh it off, but your voice came out softer than you meant.

“Relax, Princess,” Souta tossed a crooked grin your way. “Didn’t I say that I’ll take care of you?”

You nodded, more assured now, elbows propping on the mattress as you leaned back. Lips trapped between your teeth when Souta began rubbing tight circles on your clit, thumb pressing down on the swollen nub until you were writhing with the growing pressure. Your clit vibrated with zaps of electricity, wracking through your body, your cunt pulsing as another wave of ecstasy washed over you. Keeping your eyes open was getting harder, dewy lashes sticking together as your surroundings tunnel-visioned.

Souta grunted, clearly worked up over the moans spilling out your throat, the throbbing increased, walls constricting before the cord finally snapped. The tension in the air thickened as his movements became erratic. “Damn, sweetheart,” he muttered, pulling back with a smirk. “You’re gonna snap my fingers off. I need those for…uh, weightlifting, y’know?”

Tipping your neck back, eyes rolling like a bowling bowl in a lane, you fisted the sheets, thighs shutting around his wrist, body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you.

Souta let his fingers linger inside your walls, slowly dragging them, chest rising and falling. Platinum brows furrowed in concentration, the space between them creasing, cheeks flushed, mirroring his brother’s earlier expression. It was funny how they could share the same mask—yet respond so differently—Satoru, all sharp and controlled, while Souta seemed to react with something else entirely, more relaxed, but just as intense.

Souta’s eyes lost their mirth, pupils dilating until all you saw was a thin circumference of cerulean. He looked seconds away from exploding, wrecked simply from fingerfucking you into oblivion. His thumb kept tracing round shapes on your clit, your oversensitive clit that wouldn’t stop spasming.

Finally, he withdrew, fingers shining and sticky.

“Fuck, princess, that was—” he sounded tortured, sitting up on his knees, hand grabbing the base of cock, lubricating his shaft with your secretions and precum, before he lined it up at your entrance—pausing just to ask of you needed a condom.

“No need,” you murmured, voice turning airy and careless—cheeks warming as you thought about how often you had unplanned sex—especially with his brother. “Ugh, I hate the pill anyway…it makes me all bloated and messes with everything. I barely remember to take it.”

Souta’s expression shifted almost instantly, tension masking his features. “You barely remember—?” He started, a note of panic creeping in—any bit of color draining from his face.

You blinked at him, then gave a small, breezy laugh, waving it off. “Relax,” you said, a little sheepish but still light. “I have an app now—it reminds me everyday. Like, super loud notifications and everything.”

You tilted your head, offering a reassuring smile. “I’ve got it under control, promise.”

“Okay,” he let out a sigh of relief. “…good, that’s smart.”

You giggled at his reaction. “See? I’m super responsible.”

Souta chortled, an adorable sound that made you almost swoon. “Okay, super responsible girl…guess I can relax now.”

With your legs wide, he slapped his cock on your pussy, sticky slaps that resounded in the room, and you keened at the sensation. Pussy clenching with that familiar hunger before he tapped the blushing tip against your entrance, thrusted in slowly, stretching the flesh out around his length. Your back arched off the bed, mouth already hanging open.

Both moaning in unison, watching how his cock sheathed to the hilt—sticky tip kissing your cervix—his pelvis pressing against yours. “Holy shit—you’re so tight, Where have you—ah—have you been all my life?” Souta groaned, drawing back just enough to slam back home.

“S-Souta,” you keened, nails digging into his muscular shoulders as you steadied yourself. Your eyes flickered past him—and caught on his twin. You sucked in a quiet breath at the expression carved into Satoru’s features, something tight and unreadable flashing behind his eyes.

Truth be told, you had almost forgotten about him, but the moment your eyes made contact, something tightened in your chest.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” Souta said, his voice low, snapping you out of your trance. “Focus here.”

Souta’s large hands gripped your hips as he slid out a fraction, plunging back inside with one deep thrust. You let out a high-pitched moan, feeling how much he filled you before he pushed out, then back in, setting a slow yet desperate pace. Then, he picked up, rutting into you until you were dizzy, his tip nudging that sensitive spot that set fireworks off inside your brain.

“F-fuck, fuck,” Souta stuttered, your cunt squeezing around his length—his hand laid flat on your stomach where you could see the outline of his cock poking out —stretching the skin of your abdomen. “Feel how deep I am inside you? You’re taking me so well—hah—princess.”

“Ah—fuck, you feel…feel so good—don’t stop,” you sobbed, rocking along with him, scratching that delicious itch inside you. “Please—please don’t stop.”

“How could I—ngh—ever stop when I’m finally inside you. You’d been teasing me all night, showing me how good you’d feel around me,” Souta’s face scrunched from the pleasure, his hips driving forward, before he positioned his cock toward another orgasm-inducing spot. “It’s better than I ever imagined.”

“Harder…fuck me…please…mmm…harder!” Your legs shook around him, every nerve screaming.

Your walls were clenching around him with desperate intensity. He was working his hips deeper, harder, faster—the atmosphere heavy with the sounds of your fucking. But again, your gaze wandered to his twin, catching a glimpse of envy, and it made everything feel more complicated.

“Fuck, fuck—God, you’re squeezing the shit outta me,” Souta rasped, sounding absolutely demolished. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You cried out from the overflowing emotions, how his cock was spearing into you—he was fucking you like he wanted to erase every trace of his brother. “Oh God! I’m so close—you’re gonna—gonna make me come.”

“No,” Satoru growled, his voice sharp and commanding. “Don’t let her come yet.”

Souta grinned without slowing down, moving back and forth, his length glissading between your gripping walls. “Hold up, man. You already got your turn. Let her have some real fun first.”

You hadn’t expected for Satoru to intervene, his figure appearing in a flash by the foot of the bed. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he warned, his voice dangerously low, eyes locked onto Souta with that familiar, harsh glint.

Souta finally stopped, glancing over at his brother with his brows raised. “Jeez, dude. She’s not going anywhere.”

“Move out the way,” Satoru snarled, shoving his twin aside with a force that was both threatening and possessive. Souta’s cock slipped out of your wetness with a sloppy pop, slit weeping with pearly orbs. Satoru nestled between your legs, his presence dominating, and the tension settled with twice the strength. Your cunt was aching for release, climax just around the corner.

“Satoru,” you whined, damn near crying at the abrupt switch throwing you off-kilter. “Why do you keep—”

The merciless nerd entered you without warning, pounding into your gooey walls, leaning forward to capture your lips with a bruising kiss, teeth nipping at your lips, stretching the flesh until it stung. You whined and his tongue wedged your mouth apart, exploring inside, remnants of your arousal still lingering as he plunged deep enough to trace the patterns on your palate. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling closer to you, nails swimming through a sea of platinum before tugging on the ends of his hair.

Satoru pulled away with a wet smack. “Fuck,” he breathed against your lips, hips snapping in tandem with yours. “What are you doing to me, ditzy girl.”

You blinked at him, eyes big and innocently deceptive, before pressing soft kisses along the curve of his throat. Satoru groaned low, cock hard and throbbing and leaking inside you. Fast strokes sent sparks firing up your core, your body shuddering violently beneath him, bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“My turn.”

It was more than physical now—it was a pull between them, a twins tug-of-war for your attention.

Souta took over, shaky hands bracketing your hips as he braced himself to thrust into you. This time, when he was inside, his rhythm was relentless, cock aiming on that same spot that made you whimper, repeat after repeat, until your body was on the brink of shattering.

“Ah—Souta! Right there…yes, right there…oh my God, I’m gonna…I’m gonna explode!” You babbled, nails clutching onto his shoulders for dear life—scratching through skin—hips bucking on their own. Every stroke made your vision blur, heat pooling until it felt like you whole body might melt, and your voice squeaked out helpless, needy little moans that begged for more without you even thinking about it.

“Time’s up,” Satoru announced, smirking.

“Not…yet…” Souta groaned as he pulled out with a squelch—reluctant—wrapping one hand on the base and pumped his cock near your entrance, tip bobbing and leaking, abdomen stretching tight with every jerk of his wrist. “Need to—ngh—finish. Where do you…fuck…where do you want me to—”

“Come all over my pussy,” you keened, thighs parting wider for him, pussy blooming with invitation. “Please, please, please, please—Souta—need you to—”

His cock twitched and opaque ribbons splattered on your pussy, painting your folds, gooey and warm as it dripped down your hole—your cunt tingling from how good it felt.

Panting from over exertion, Souta released his cock, letting it slap against his thigh with a thwack, looking utterly captivated by your messy and abused pussy—glistening, swollen, sensitive. “Fuck, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen…” Extending his arm, he almost reached for it—

“I said, your time’s up,” Satoru snarled, words fleeing through gritted teeth.

“Jesus, fine,” Souta mumbled, but he wasn’t too pleased.

He withdrew, and Satoru situated between your thighs again, tip pushing in, and folded you under him, knees to chest, his cock sinking even deeper until you could feel him in your throat. One hand snuck between your thighs, finding your slippery clit, your pussy angled upward, pulsing for his touch. Your almost had an out-of-body experience when he began rubbing tight circles all over it, pussy dribbling with his motions. A scream escaped your mouth—loud, pornographic, wrecked—you thanked every Higher being Satoru had no roommates. But he did have neighbors.

“God, you’re so infuriating,” Satoru spat, his voice thick with frustration, but his eyes, burning with desire he couldn’t hide, betrayed him. “With your stupid brain, and your stupid jewelry, and that damn cotton candy perfume…it’s drives me insane.”

He never gave you a chance to respond, lips seeking yours again, tongues sliding in and out—sloppy, twisted strokes where you weren’t even kissing each other—just licking and sucking. You moaned into his mouth, rolling your hips upward, feeling the ridges of his cock scrape your interior walls.

He was fucking you like he really hated you, roughly pounding you through the mattress, your tits jolting along with your necklace, your pussy fluttering erratically around his cock. Your thighs were now burning, and you cursed yourself for being too confident earlier—this was like new cardio from hell—everything ached when you were folded in half.

“Gonna fuck the stupid outta you—ngh—” Satoru grunted, voice fracturing as he lost momentum for a second. He drove forward, bullying his cock in with aggression, then out, forcing the air out of your lungs. “By the time I’m done, you’ll get—” another sharp slam into the throbbing spot, pussy clenching tight, “—every. Fucking. Question. Right.”

His thrusts were downright cruel and vengeful like he was teaching you a lesson—instilling information through his cock. Every collision sent your spine bowing, legs shaking and trembling, toes curving inward, his hand still latched onto your clit, circling and rubbing furiously. “C’mon, you’re gonna come again, right? Isn’t that what you were begging me for?”

He tore sob after sob from your throat, a stream of broken moans in between, drooling cock pressing hard on the aching spot, over and over—like an overused button on a gaming controller—until your body had no other option than to finally respond—incapable of delaying your climax.

It was building too fast to stop—far too fast. The pressure spiraled out of control, tightening low in your stomach until it almost hurt. You felt it climbing, climbing, a breathless awareness flooding as panic and need tangled together. A broken gasp slipped out of you when you realized you couldn’t stop it—you didn’t want to, but you couldn’t. Not anymore.

Tears were leaking down pathetically as you tried to bargain with him, voice desperate and broken, “Fuck—Satoru—no, it’s too much—I’m gonna—”

“Too much?” He laughed again, bitter and sharp, like it scraped his throat on the way out. “Nothing’s ever too much for you,” Satoru continued, breath uneven despite the bite in his tone. His glasses slightly slid down his nose, and just for a second, the anger gave away to something far more dangerous—hunger. “You parade around like you don’t know what you’re doing. Short skirts. Tight tops. High heels. Too much makeup. Too much hairspray.” His jaw clenched. “Too much everything.”

He leaned closer, punctuating his words with a swift buck of his hips that made you squirm. “And now my cock’s too much for you?” Another bitter laugh—but it cracked at the edges. “No, no ditzy girl. You don’t get to back out now.” His breathing staggered for a second, like he hated how affected he was. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna take it. You’re gonna come around my cock again and again. And you’re gonna look at me when you do.”

The second he said the words, a portal opened. A veil of liquid starlight blanketed your vision, your limbs went rigid, spine arching off the mattress, walls wildly contracting before you squirted. Releasing a jet stream of clear fluid around his cock—warm, filthy, inevitable—spraying his sweat-slicked abs, and staining the bedsheets with another embarrassing splotch.

Your eyes involuntarily skirted past his—bleary, muddled, cockdrunk—and paused right on his twin.

Souta was also looking you, blues piercing through your soul, a barely visible smile on his lips.

You shakily returned it, a moment of understanding passing between you.

“Shit—there you go—” Your cunt didn’t stop clamping down on him—and that was finally when he started twitching inside you. Hard, violent. His rhythm faltered, hips bucking like they were chasing something, cock still throbbing inside you, hot and heavy and slick with every drag. “Fuck—gonna fill you up again—wanna watch how my cum drips out of you.”

You couldn’t stop whimpering, aftershocks jolting every nerve, his hips rolling even as you tried to ride it all out. Lips parting while you gasped for air, vision whiting out—

“Can’t—ngh—hold it back any more,” Satoru’s eyes squeezed shut, glasses tilting with every languid snap of his hips. He slammed in one last time—as deep as he could get—moaning deep and guttural as he came, emptying load after load.

Your tutor was still fucking you through his comedown, pumping every drop of cum into your womb. You could feel him coat your insides, hot and sticky, cramming you full of it, and you moaned at the sensation. Satoru pulled out of your abused cunt, cum leaking out and pooling underneath you. He collapsed onto you, his weight crashing down, his body half on you, half off, a tangle of limbs that barely made sense in the moment. His chest was pressed against yours, while his lower half hung precariously, his cock prodding your inner thigh, the heat between the both of you undeniable.

Eyes fluttering shut, your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. You were exhausted, yes—but it wasn’t just that. The weight of Satoru on top of you felt suffocating—which was odd because you had always begged him to cuddle with you after sex, craving that skin-to-skin contact. But once he finished, the dismissiveness was always the same: a flat “get out, session’s over.”

The harshness of it always made the intimacy feel like a fleeting fantasy, something you’d never get to keep.

Maybe it was post-but clarity, but there was an unsettling tension at the pit of your stomach, one you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t from him. You swallowed the thought—your mind kept drifting back to Souta, who was awkwardly loitering by the desk, naked body framed by the dim light, shoulder blades sticking out like hidden wings. Red lines marred his skin, marks left by yours truly, reminders of the intense, chaotic moment.

You took a second to admire him, lifting your head just a smidge to peek from behind Satoru’s shoulder, eyes raking down his physique. God, his ass is perfect, you thought, noting the way his muscles were sculpted and toned. Yet, something deeper stirred inside you—something between longing and confusion.

You weren’t sure why this felt more than just an attraction.

You shoved against Satoru’s chest, the movement quick and almost desperate. His weight felt like it was pressing down on you, and you needed space. “Get off,” you said, your voice a little sharper than you intended, your body sliding away from his as you tried to distant yourself from the inconvenience of your emotions.

Satoru grunted, surprised by the force of your push. He didn’t get up completely, instead he rolled beside you, pushing himself onto his elbows as he looked at you, irritation flickering across his face.

“What’s with the attitude?” Satoru asked, his voice strident. He didn’t move to leave the bed, but he clearly wasn’t pleased by the sudden shift. “You’ve never pushed me off before. What, are you—”

“Nothing,” you swiftly denied, rearranging your face into something a little more enthusiastic. “Oh my God, that was…wow, right?” You asked instead, sighing blissfully, eyes half-lidded as you still recovered from the post-coital intensity. Your body was so sore—aching—but that was a good excuse for you to visit the spa. “I feel, like, all tingly inside…”

“Nothing, huh?” Satoru raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying the shift in your demeanor. He leaned back, studying your face. “Sure, if you say so…” he chuckled, but the amusement in his eyes never quite reached the rest of his expression. “If you feel all tingly inside, that must’ve been some wow, huh? Tell me, which one of us made you feel like you’re on cloud nine?”

His question hit you like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. He was looking at you expectantly, clearly enjoying the discomfort in your silence.

Souta clapped his hands together, his voice a little too loud. “So, uh, yeah, maybe we should clean up…I mean, we made quite a mess, right?” He gave a nervous laugh as if trying to steer the focus away from the weird tension in the room.

“R-right!” You agreed with an upbeat tone, silently thanking him for the much-needed distraction.

You all got to work.

The whole process had taken less time than you had expected, with Satoru barking out orders like a drill sergeant—“wipe this” and “put the bedsheets in the washer and separate the whites from the colors!”—as if he as in some military training instead of a post-sex cleanup routine.

After everything was over—and you’d scrubbed yourself clean with some towels—you traded your skimpy clothes for Souta’s oversized shirt, the fabric large and loose, swallowing you whole while you lounged on the bed. Meanwhile, Souta rummaged through his brother’s closet and pulled out a shirt that seemed way too way out of character—a nerdy graphic tee full of logos and comic book references. It almost didn’t seem like something he’d wear.

He looked at you, offering you a grin. “I mean, it’s better than nothing, right?” But the way he said it—there was something behind his words, a hint of familiarity you couldn’t place.

When Souta slipped on the shirt, it fit him just right—almost as if it was tailored to his frame. He looked exactly like his twin, no doubt about it. But then there was the smile.

It wasn’t just any smile. It was a smile that sent your heart into overdrive, and suddenly everything felt different. There was something in his eyes that made you second-guess everything you thought you knew about him.

“So…you still don’t know the answer?” Satoru suddenly asked, his gaze sharp, cutting through your thoughts. He tilted his head sideways, as if waiting for you to finally realize what had been in front of you all along. “Maybe it’s time for you to connect the dots.”

You blinked at him, a little disoriented partially from all the back-to-back orgasms and from thinking about his twin. You adjusted yourself and sat up, brows clashing together. “Wait…what do you mean connect the dots?” Then, your eyes suddenly sparkled. “Oh! Like those little puzzles where you draw the lines and it makes a unicorn or something?”

Souta let out a quiet breath, his expression the epitome of patient. “Not the puzzle, princess,” he said gently. He tipped his head slightly toward your tutor. “He means…you’re supposed to put things together. The clues.”

“The clues?” You stared at him, not a single thought inside your brain.

Something between disbelief and frustration crossed Satoru’s face before he shook his head. “You’re actually most clueless girl in the world.” He clicked his tongue, his gaze sliding back to his brother. “Screw it. Let’s just show her.”

The room was suddenly dead still, a charged silence hanging between you, the two men before you. You shifted on the mattress, tugging the oversized shirt down your thighs and folded your legs beneath you, straining your brain trying to understand what they were about to do.

They stood a few feet apart.

Identical in every sense.

Both equally bulky.

Same silver hair. Same height. Same face.

The one who’d been sharp with you for months—glasses, posture straight, expression cool—looked at his twin.

Not at you.

At him.

And the energy between them had shifted.

Something in his jaw loosened. Like he was fed up. Then, casually—too casually—he asked: “Ready to switch back?”

Your stomach plummeted.

The other twin—the one who had been smiling sweetly at you, fumbling hooks, laughing with feigned confidence under his breath—didn’t look too surprised.

He didn’t even look confused.

He just rolled his shoulders once, as if to get rid off all the tension. “Yeah,” he said, quieter now. Not flustered. Not himbo-soft. Just…steady. “Guess it’s about time.”

And then it happened.

Not a dramatic transformation.

Just subtle shifts.

“Go on,” Satoru encouraged his twin, passing him the thick pair of glasses.

Souta hesitated for a moment, then grabbed and slipped them on like they were a mask that had always belonged to him. His hand lifted to the bridge of his nose, pushing the glasses higher the way you’d seen his twin do it before.

His posture changed, spine straightening.

The playful tilt of his mouth disappeared.

His gaze became a lot intense—carrying this sharp intelligence.

And the one who’d worn the glasses for months?

He smirked.

Sharper than usual, his eyebrow piercing shining bright.

You felt it deep in your chest.

The switch wasn’t physical.

It was posture. Tone. Stillness.

Like watching two actors drop their roles at the end of a play.

And scene.

Your voice barely functioned. “What…?”

Neither of them rushed to explain.

Satoru reached for the cap on the desk and pulled it on like it was second-nature to him, flipping the brim backward.

Your eyes widened slightly.

Because now he looked exactly like the one you thought was Souta.

Stunned, your eyes followed the movement automatically.

For a second…nothing happened.

Your brain scrambled backwards through months of memories.

The different kisses.

The inconsistency.

The biology slip.

The fumbling.

Your eyes flicked to Satoru.

Then back to Souta.

The glasses.

The cap.

The eyebrow piercing.

The posture.

Then it almost dawned on you—something inside your mind snagged—you could feel the answer slowly rise to the surface.

Your mouth parted slightly.

“Wait,” you said again, slower this time—your thoughts racing at an impeccable speed. “…hold on.”

If your eyes grew any wider they’d pop out of their sockets. “Oh my God,” you breathed.

You pointed between them, horrified—flabbergasted.

“You guys—” Your voice jumped an octave. “You switched!”

Satoru snorted. “Took you long enough.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” You stared between the two of them like your brain was trying to reboot. “So…you’re the nerd?” You said slowly, pointing at Souta.

Souta smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, but I’m the real Satoru,” he admitted, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose like it was a habit he hadn’t been able to indulge in for a while.

A small gesture that suddenly looked more natural to him than the cap ever had.

The other twin grinned, slouched casually against the desk. “Which makes me Souta,” he said lazily, jerking a thumb at himself. “The real frat boy.”

This was the biggest mindfuck of all.

Not only had they managed to fool you once, but twice!

Granted, you were an easy target—though this didn’t excuse their cruel joke.

“…Oh my God,” you whispered, staring at him. “Wait…I’ve been with the frat boy this whole time?” You whispered, clutching the sheets. “All that time…I thought I was with the nerdy one…and it was you.”

You buried your face in your hands, heart racing. “No wonder why you were…so…different.”

The real nerd—Satoru—awkwardly adjusted his glasses. “Uh…sorry, princess. You didn’t deserve that.”

Souta leaned closer, eyes playful but full of frat confidence, with just a hint of asshole. “Relax, ditzy girl. You survived. That’s what counts.”

After you dropped your hands back on your lap, you gazed at both of them. “…But, like, why did you do it?” You asked, breathless from the whole shock. “Why switch? Why all the games?”

“Why not?” Souta said, his hands slipping into his pockets, clearly unfazed. “It’s fun.”

Satoru, however, looked more abashed. “We wanted to see if you’d notice—and maybe also learn a couple of things. We always switch…you’re not our first victim,” he confessed, eyes widening as he realized how it sounded. “But you’ll definitely be the last. This won’t be happening again.”

You mulled over his words, letting them sink in. “I still don’t get it,” you said, tilting your head. “If you’re the frat boy”—you pointed at Souta—“aren’t you supposed to be like the dumb one? How come you were able to like explain chemistry to me?”

Souta’s lips curled into his usual smug grin. He stretched his arms out like he’d been waiting for this question. “You think just because I wear caps and lift weights, I’m a complete idiot?” He chuckled, crossing his arms to show his bulging muscles underneath his sweater. “Nah, ditzy girl. I’m a bio major. I know my stuff.”

Bio? Of course, another crucial clue you had dismissed as nothing.

You blinked, drowning in more confusion. “Wait…so you’re actually…smart?”

Souta’s smirk only grew. “You’d be surprised. I just don’t wear it on my sleeve, y’know?” Now that the truth was out, even his lingo became more frat boy coded. “No one expects me to know anything other than to throw a party. But trust me, I’m way more than that.”

Satoru nodded in agreement. “True. We’re both pretty intelligent,” he said, glancing at his twin. “He actually knows more about chemistry than I do.” The real nerd paused, lifting the corners of his lips. “But I just happen to like it more.”

You smiled at him, hit with another wave of flutters.

“Enough about that,” Souta jumped in. “You never got to answer the question.”

You groaned, having enough of this twisted twin trivia. “What question? If it’s about the VACUUM theory, then—”

“Not VSEPR,” Souta cut in, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Us.”

You felt your heart lurch—your gaze betrayed you, lingering on Satoru for a beat too long before you could stop it. “…Oh.”

Souta’s eyes tracked yours, catching that lasting glance. He let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. You didn’t even need to answer.” His gaze darted to his brother. “You’re not exactly subtle, princess.” The nickname sounded wrong coming from his mouth—more like an insult than anything affectionate. Like something dirty.

He stepped closer, crowding into your space, voice dropping low and razor-sharp. “Funny,” he spat. “Considering I’m the one you spent months fucking.”

The words landed like a slap.

Your chest tightened, heat rushing to your face—humiliation, anger, something raw underneath.

For a second, you couldn’t breathe.

But beneath that sting…something else surfaced.

Not guilt.

Not confusion.

Certainty.

Satoru came forward, putting himself between you and his brother, shoulders squared in a way that was suddenly very un-nerdlike.

“Souta, that’s eno—”

You held one hand up, keeping Satoru from getting in the middle—the last thing you wanted was to rouse any problems between siblings. This was your confrontation.

He backed up, giving you a nod to show he respected your boundary.

“Yeah…” You answered, lifting your chin in a fragile kind of bravery. “I think I just…I kept wishing for it to mean something.”

He didn’t crumble—he hardened.

Souta’s jaw clenched, something ugly flashing across his face before the smirk snapped into place. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You were mean to me, Satoru,” you defended quietly, not even angry. Just stating a fact.

“It’s Souta,” he correctly automatically.

“Whatever,” you replied. The word wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t dramatic. It was worse.

Dismissive.

For once he didn’t get a reaction out of you.

He blinked like that wasn’t a part of the script.

Souta rolled his eyes, recovering from your intentional jab. “Oh, c’mon. You liked it.”

You didn’t bother wasting another word on him and turned your head—slowly—to the other twin. To the one with the glasses. The one who wasn’t smirking. The one who looked like he was bracing for an impact.

Standing there, taking up as little space as possible like he wanted to disappear into the dark corners of the room.

“You,” you said softly.

He straightened instinctively. “Yeah?”

Your fingers twisted together in front of you—not shy, just thinking for once. Like deep thinking where you listened to what your brain said for once that wasn’t nonsense or just never-ending static.

Thinking kinda hurt.

“You asked if I was okay.”

He swallowed, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “Well. Yeah. I mean. Of course. I had to make sure…”

“You got confused by my corset.”

His ears flamed red. “There were a lot of hooks.”

A tiny smile tugged at your lips. “You thought they looked like teeth.”

He groaned softly. “Please don’t bring that up.”

“You explained to me what a triangle plane band is.”

“It’s trigonal—” Satoru started, then he seemed to change his mind. “You know what? We’ll work on it.”

“And you called me beautiful.”

That one made him freeze before his mouth curled into a sweet smile, “That’s because you are.”

You thought about the kiss, the way he made you feel with his lips against yours.

“You kissed me like…like it meant something,” you said, voice wavering.

Satoru glanced down, then he looked straight into your eyes like he needed to make sure your brain was ready to document every word. “It did.”

Across the room, Souta scoffed, incredulous. “I can’t believe you’re actually picking him. I’m the one who spent hours tutoring you—which was worse than getting a fuckin’ root canal, by the way. I’m the one who knows exactly how to make you come. I literally made you squirt not even thirty minutes ago!” His voice carried a sharp edge—half-wounded pride, half-challenge—as if he couldn’t decide if he was angrier at you…or the fact that you might walk away from what he had to offer.

Orgasms and offensive insults.

You glance back at the mean twin. “He didn’t make me feel stupid.”

Silence.

Not loud.

Not explosive.

Just…heavy.

Then you looked at the nerd, the real one. The one who pretended to be confident because he thought that was what you liked. But it wasn’t only that.

“I don’t care if you go to the gym fifty times a day, I don’t care if you can solve the…the,” you waved your hand vaguely, searching for something that sounded impressive enough to match his ego. “VAPOR theory.”

“It’s the VSEPR theory,” Souta corrected again with yet another eye roll.

“And I don’t care how many times you made me squirt,” you continued, adding a pointed look at him.

The words didn’t tremble. They landed.

Then you turned back to the nerd—to Satoru—and your voice shifted. Softer. Steadier. “I care that you’re nice to me. And tonight…tonight you were the one who proved that. Not him.”

He stared at you like you had just rewritten the laws of physics. “B-but I’m not—”

“You never had to switch your personality in the first place,” you interrupted tenderly. “It’s okay to, like, just be yourself.”

Satoru blinked at you like you made a groundbreaking revelation.

And then your lips curved—slow, bright, unmistakably you. “Plus. Didn’t you already know?” You said lightly. “I kinda have a thing for real nerds.”

Satoru leaned in, voice low and steady, eyes sparking with warmth behind his glasses. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”

Then, he kissed you—warm, sure, one arm firm at your waist as he pulled you closer. It wasn’t a performance. It wasn’t for anyone else in the room.

It wasn’t a fantasy created inside your mind.

It was a chemical reaction, a real one.

He broke the kiss first, eyes wide and shining like he’d been hit by the same wave of heat and electricity. “Wow,” he murmured, a soft laugh exiting as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Souta grumbled, his irritation swelling as his eyes bounced between you and Satoru. “We’ll see how long you lovebirds last when you’re dealing with someone who trips over her own stupidity. Remember that, bro. She’ll never be able to keep up with a Gojo’s brain.”

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about her like that,” Satoru defended, his tone was stern—a volume you had yet to have heard from him. Then, his eyes softened, a teasing edge creeping in. “Besides,” he added quietly. “If she can handle you, she can handle me. And I think she already has. What good is a brain if the heart behind it is rotten? And she’s”—Satoru faltered as if losing courage, but he pushed on, staring straight at you—“kind, gorgeous…fun. And she has a beautiful heart.”

You gasped, clutching at your chest as if he might actually see through it. “Wait…you can see my heart?”

Satoru shoulders shook with a quiet laugh at your expression, eyes warm instead of mocking. “Yes, princess,” he murmured. “Soft, sweet, and pretty. Just like you.”

Souta bristled, jaw working like he was chewing back something vicious. For a split second it looked like he might say it anyway. Then, he exhaled sharply and looked away first. “Whatever,” he said, his voice tight. “I’m done here.”

Both of you watched him as he gathered his stuff and left the room. The distant sound of the front door slamming shut was the only confirmation he left.

Satoru exhaled in relief once his brother left, shoulders sagging as if he had used all his energy to deal with him. “Hey,” he looked down at you. “Don’t listen to him. I meant every word—and maybe…I’ve been waiting to tell you that for a while.”

You almost burst into tears, but that would’ve been too dramatic, and you were done with the theatrics for the night. “But…what about not being smart? I can barely pass my classes, it takes me a while to understand things. You’ll have to explain everything to me. Don’t you want—”

Before you could finish, Satoru leaned in and captured your lips with his own. The kiss was just like before, soft and insistent—perfect—leaving no room for doubt.

Quieting your insecurities in a heartbeat.

When Satoru finally pulled away, his thumb brushed lightly along your jaw. “Let me take you out, princess,” he murmured, eyes searching yours. “An actual date. No twins. No switching. Just us.”

A giddy giggle slipped from your lips, batting your eyelashes at him, even though of most of them had fallen off from all the sex. Fuck, you definitely needed to get them redone, but that was the least of your concerns right now. You would much rather pay attention to the gorgeous, sweet, and kind nerd standing in front of you. “Will it involve chemistry?”

Satoru’s laugh was low and amused, brushing against the shell of your ear. He flashed that fake himbo-esque grin, the one that fooled you for months, “Chemistry, biology, as long as you’re mine.”

an: here’s my contribution to the nerdjo + fratjo verse lol. i really, really enjoyed writing this. hope u all enjoyed the story! i had a Valentine’s Day oneshot to write but ofc i had zero time to work on it. this oneshot just flowed out more bc i’m sooooo in love with nerdjo (he’s def my fav Gojo variant). the ending was low key rushed, maybe i’ll rewrite it better in the future or maybe an alternate ending. but omg that part abt the whey protein powder and unseasoned chicken breasts killed me (i’m so funny sometimes) LMAO!

here’s a super mini tag list lmao: @lunarkyn

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

STRWBRRYMOON