Satoru & Satoshi

It was your second year in college when you first heard about the Gojo twins. Just quiet whispers around campus, dripping with an odd amount of reverence for just two students. Especially when you hadn’t seen them around before. Or at least you didn’t believe you had. No faces to pin the names on, just a trail of leftover awe and pure want left in their wake.

It would probably pass anyway. Just the campus rotation of guys to worship for the month, then move on. It didn’t matter to you. If you couldn't even spot them, it was unlikely they’d ever get personally involved in your life.

If only you knew.

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You met Satoru first. You saw him halfway across campus, being tailed around by a fan club built of reputation-thirsty ducklings who imprinted on the loudest thing they saw. It was hard to believe you hadn’t noticed him before.

He was... really something. He stood out. A tall, white-haired, blue-eyed frat boy with a body built from notes taken right out of a wet dream and a habit of leaving broken hearts wherever he went. Someone like that wasn’t uncommon to see, except this was different.

You didn’t clock it at first glance. That came later, at some end-of-the-year rager.

Everybody on campus was there, using up the last of their energy to put the long year behind them and start fresh for New Year’s resolutions. Girls in fake tan and skirts that barely passed as anything other than lingerie for easy access. Guys in backwards hats and wife beaters with too much alcohol in their systems.

People were hammered left and right, dancing sloppily and getting all up in each other’s space before eventually falling into the act where they would go back to being strangers when the new year rolled around without the same substances from tonight.

That’s when you really got to know who Satoru Gojo was. He was with a group nobody was surprised to see orbiting him. He was laughing, talking loudly, slouched on a disgustingly sticky couch with an arm swung easily over one of his friends, purposefully slurring every second word so people wouldn’t question the lack of alcohol in his cup.

Then his eyes met yours.

You didn’t expect them to linger like they did.

But they stuck in a way that wasn’t discreet, like a stray dog sniffing around something new and interesting. The smile came on its own, a small thing aimed directly toward you.

What happened next was history. Overwhelming, intense, quick-lived history.

He slipped away from his friends, followed you out to a quieter hallway, and sweet-talked you until you handed over your phone number. Then it switched into something else. Something it had no business being, but just was anyway. Your hands in his collar, his under your shirt. Lips crashing against lips, messy and sloppy. God, he knew how to use his tongue.

That was Satoru’s first mistake. Seeing soft, cherry lips and giving in so easily. So when things got more heated, pressed hard against the wall with the only sound being the wet, sloppy slide of mouths between you two, he was already fucked.

He was hard. He knew you could one hundred and one percent feel he was hard. His dick was real and heavy, rubbing against your stomach with your thigh hooked high around his hip. It was a chance to take this further than a frantic hallway dry hump.

That’s when he panicked.

Because he knew how to make out with people. He knew the right things to say to have someone desperate and talking filthy about how soaked they were and how they’d take every inch.

But anything physical below the waist? Sex? Off limits. Zero experience with that sort of thing. It was like knowing how to pour the ingredients into the bowl but not knowing how to cook them properly.

And people, going off his reputation, expected him to have racked up his body count to double, pushing triple digits. You probably expected someone who knew what they were doing too. Not someone who was all bark and no bite.

So instead of coming clean and telling the truth, facing the slight chance of humiliation, he turned tail and ran. Pushed you away slowly but firmly, his smirk falling back into its rightful place as he fed you some bullshit excuse before walking off.

“...Sorry, baby. I promised some guy I’d help cover for him. Come find me later, yeah?”

He didn’t try to look for you afterward. And because Satoru didn’t want anything circling around, you woke up the next day to find yourself blocked. Asshole move.

Big fucking mistake on his part too. Because unfortunately for him, blocking you didn’t remove you from his memory.

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You didn’t even really remember a second Gojo twin had existed until halfway through the next semester, when exams were coming up.

You first saw Satoshi on the morning of some filler day when you got to class earlier than usual. Walking through the doors with his head down, strands of hair falling messily into his eyes as he swerved straight to the front row.

Same hair. Same eyes. Same face. Completely different vibe.

You were so convinced it was just Satoru in disguise you had to double-take at him. He was a little lankier, had glasses sliding off his nose, and was lacking the infamous fan club tailing after him.

That’s when you got it. Right. Twins.

He was smart. Just a little bit of a know-it-all, but you would be too if you were on his level. (Excuses, but anyway.) You recognized him around the place more, where in the past he had just been a blurry face. Now you took notice of where he was, where he was heading.

He was always alone, always lurking at the corners of everything that didn't have formulas to be written down. Clearly not a social butterfly like his brother. It was hard to think that, besides appearances, they even came from the same mother.

Luckily, you needed a tutor. And a way to get back at Satoru.

Satoshi was the key to hitting two birds with one stone.

When you first came to him with the offer, he looked at you like you were crazy. But convincing him came easier than you thought.

Satoshi was the opposite of his twin brother in every way. Including when it came to more intimate prospects. He was very much not a virgin like Satoru. He had bodies. However, he was extremely picky with who he slept with. He wouldn’t lower his standards for anybody. But once his partner cleared that field, he narrowed it down to two rules.

First, he made sure they wouldn’t spin back to spill dirt on his carefully polished “good-boy” reputation.

Second? Ruin them so good the bed breaks both figuratively and literally, and ensure they’re so fucked out they will never be able to copycat the mind-shattering orgasms he gave them.

You, fortunately, met the quota.

You got your tutor. Aced every exam.

And the sex — God, the sex was something else entirely. Just by looking at Satoshi you would never be able to tell how much he was packing and how well he knew how to use it. Every study session became an excuse to get your back blown out and get his dick deep inside you.

Every single time he made you cum so hard you would forget your name, replaced by desperate moans of his.

It was heaven.

You’d call late at night. He’d pick up, calling you a slut and growling into the speaker about how obsessed you were, then immediately tell you to come over so he could see how seriously you were taking your learning.

It always ended up with you spent and blissed out, with your ass up in the air and his cum spilling onto the same worksheets you were supposed to fill in.

This quiet, dorky loner was a fucking sex god in disguise. It was so fucking addictive, seeing him act so withdrawn and on edge in public just to see a completely different person when he was pinning you to the mattress and fingering you to orgasm.

Satoru was in the past. A necessary mistake.

Time was already passing, and it was already fuzzing the memory of that night. He was just going to be a face in the background soon enough.

Until one night he unblocked you out of nowhere and started blowing up your phone.

hey, it’s been a while since we talked :)

sorta miss it

oh and random question

i saw you talking to my brother. glasses. annoying. thinks he’s smarter than everyone

i asked him about it btw, he said you’re “studying together”

but also he’s been in a suspiciously good mood lately, which is concerning, cuz he never smiles unless he gets a perfect grade or something

be honest with me for a second. did you start talking to him because of me

okay you not answering is actually making this worse

alright then... forget i said that but can we talk? i need to tell you something

just come find me, okay? ❤️

They all went unanswered. Even the one with the heart emoji.

Because that was the same night Satoshi had dragged you from the main party happening in his house (hosted by Satoru, obviously) and into his bedroom for another one of your “sessions” of him rearranging your guts.

It was almost funny how predictable it had become. Just following the clock into the late hours of the night where things could get down and dirty.

You didn’t even get the chance to properly greet him before his mouth was on yours, his tongue chasing its way to tangle with your own. His hands worked their way under your shirt like he’d been waiting all day to do it.

From how worked up his cock was — swollen and eagerly trying to make its way between your parted thighs — it was obvious he hadn’t just hopped on impulse when he first saw you actually came to this cheap-ass party.

“You kept me waiting. Should’ve just come up sooner,” he muttered against your lips before immediately getting back to work, his voice an irked huff of breath, though the way his hands were gripping your waist and fussing over your position said he didn’t care nearly as much as he pretended to.

Satoshi had already pushed you backward toward the bed, crawling over you with his mouth latched firmly on your neck, aiming to leave an admirable amount of hickeys to look aesthetically pleasing.

His fingers squeezed your hips, feeling the soft give of flesh before he flipped your position, rolling you over onto your belly and hiking up your hips with a pillow, putting your ass on display.

He groaned low and dirty before immediately crawling over you, shoving his glasses straight with the back of his hand while groping your ass, spreading the cheeks apart with a full palm before hooking one finger into your waistband and pulling down.

Fuuuuck. He liked what he saw.

He pawed at his own jeans, unbuttoning them with absolutely no hand-eye coordination and shoving them down with his boxers to free his dick, flushed a pretty red and giving an enthusiastic throb.

He gripped one of your hips with one hand, letting his thumb circle your hole, drawing out a whine while his other hand held his cock still, lining it up before he spit directly onto your entrance.

Ptui. Warm. Wet.

A small, filthy smirk curved his lips as he pushed the tip in, his chest brushing your back.

“Mmph... god, you’re so needy tonight, pushing back against me. Gonna swallow my cock whole.”

He started fucking you slow, letting his cock drag in and out. Then hard, pulling out just to get deeper every thrust back in, aiming to hit that one spot every time.

And winning at that, mind you.

The music down the hall was easily overpowered by the sounds being made inside his bedroom right now.

Thwack! Ah! Mmmf!

It was just your own little world right now, where all that was comprehensible was his voice in your ear in that heated purr and his hand on your back pushing down to make you arch more.

Until there was a knock at the door.

Rude. Insistent.

But given whose voice followed, it was explainable.

“Satoshi? Hey. Um, have you seen {{user}}? Y’know... the one I was telling you about a few days ago? I swore I saw them come down here.”

Satoru.

A very oblivious, desperate-sounding Satoru who couldn’t keep his fucking knuckles off the door, knocking another three times.

“Are you in there?”

Satoshi paused. He didn’t pull out. Fuck no. He just sank back on his heels, his hand on your back stilling your arch as he shifted and turned his head toward the door.

“{{User}}?” He ran a hand through his hair, eyes falling back to the frothy little ring of your combined slick on the base of his cock, dripping down his balls.

“That’s the one you said had a nice ass and looked like they could ruin your life with their thighs, right?”

On the other side of the door, Satoru grimaced at his own past words handed back to him, groaning in frustration as he let his forehead press against the door.

“Not funny, man. Just tell me — have you seen them or not? I fucked up. Big time.”

Satoshi rolled his hips forward, letting you take it another inch deeper as he ground you into the mattress. He didn’t think Satoru hunting for this random “{{user}}” meant he was hunting for his {{user}}. The one under him dripping with his spit right now. People have the same names all the time. Yeah. Coincidence. Happens all the time.

“Nope. Haven’t—ngh—seen them. Why, did you fight or something?”

Satoru paused, taking a second to figure out how to put the words together when he was so used to these things just flowing freely from his lips without having to give much thought to it.

His voice got desperate.

“Look, I just want to try to find them. I need to talk to them. It's important.”

Satoshi clicked his tongue, about to feed Satoru a lie about how he’d been cooped up in his room the entire time, that he didn’t have a single clue who he was even talking about —

when you decided to perk your head up from the pillows, glancing toward the door where Satoru stood on the other side of it.

So instead of letting you focus too hard on the twin outside the door while he was balls-deep inside you, he just ran his fingers through the hair at your nape and pushed your head back down into the sheets, muffling any sound before delivering quite a rough, devastating thrust, hitting an impossibly sensitive spot.

The spot that made you mewl.

Audibly.

Satoshi actually froze this time, his stomach dropping to his ass from being caught in his own lie. His lenses were fogged up and it was not coming from your body heat.

And on the other side of the door, the vibe dropped to something colder.

Satoru was dead silent.

Everything just went still. It was a tense, uncomfortable silence saying someone fucked up.

Then Satoru snapped first.

“…{{user}}…? Is {{user}} fucking in there with you?!”