After showering, Aoyama Nanami dried her hair in her room, the humid warmth of the bathroom still clinging to her skin beneath her cotton pajamas. The blow dryer rattled against the silence, its motor whining as she worked through damp honey-brown strands.
Then, she sat on the bed, hugging her Torajiro plushie against her chest, a conflicted expression clouding her features.
Aoyama Nanami thought about what Hozuki Nozomi had said earlier.
Something about teaching her a new massage technique.
So, the question was—should she go to his room?
She wasn't stupid; she naturally knew that when he said such things to her, he definitely wanted to take the opportunity to do something naughty. The way his eyes had lingered on her during dinner, the brush of his fingers against her wrist when he passed her the soy sauce—all of it deliberate.
He always knows exactly what he's doing, she thought, squeezing Torajiro until the plushie's stitched smile seemed to mock her. And I always fall for it.
If she went, how would it be any different from a lamb entering a tiger's den?
If she didn't go, would he be angry?
The more Aoyama Nanami thought about it, the more embarrassed she felt, her small face flushing crimson, like an inviting red apple begging to be bitten. Heat spread from her cheeks down her neck, and she pressed her cool palms against her skin to no avail.
"Torajiro, should I go or not?"
"I'm not an easy girl!"
Hugging the plushie, Nanami muttered to herself, and as time ticked by—nine-fifty-two glowing accusingly on her alarm clock—she gritted her teeth and walked out of her room.
Still, she'd go.
She wasn't trying to be bullied by him.
She just... she just wanted to learn a new massage technique, that's all.
The hallway smelled of lavender fabric softener and the lingering ghost of tonight's curry. Her bare feet whispered against the wooden floorboards as she tiptoed toward his door, each step feeling louder than the last.
As she reached for the handle, she found herself face to face with another person.
Ogiwara Sayu stood there in an oversized sleep shirt that barely reached mid-thigh, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, one eyebrow arched in knowing amusement.
Aoyama Nanami's cheeks burned hotter, and she instinctively pivoted to flee, but Sayu—with quick eyes and quicker hands—snatched her wrist.
"Why run away? Let's go in together!"
Caught red-handed, Sayu thought, her lips curving into a half-smile. She's so obvious it's almost cute.
Aoyama Nanami lowered her head, studying the wood grain beneath her toes.
"N-no, Sayu, you go in. I won't disturb you two."
Sayu listened to her timid tone and couldn't help but feel exasperated. Was that... sourness she detected? Jealousy wrapped in politeness?
Sayu gave her an eye-roll that could strip paint. "You're already at the door. If you back out now,Nozomi will be very angry, you know."
"M-mm... T-this... I..."
"Oh, stop with the 'buts'! Come in with me obediently!"
Ogiwara Sayu pulled her forward, pushed the door open with her hip, and then clicked it shut behind them.
The room smelled of sandalwood and clean sheets, dimly lit by a single lamp on the nightstand. Hozuki Nozomi sat on the edge of the bed, wearing only loose sweatpants, his bare chest catching the amber light.
....
Nozomi's gaze lifted from his phone, unhurried, settling first on Sayu's smirk and then drifting to Nanami—half-hidden behind Sayu's shoulder, fingers still clutching the hem of her pajama top like a lifeline.
"Took you long enough," he said, voice low and warm as poured honey.
Both of them. Perfect.
Sayu released Nanami's wrist and crossed the room with practiced ease, dropping onto the mattress beside him, one leg tucked beneath her. She leaned into his shoulder, dark hair spilling against his bare skin. "She almost bolted. You owe me."
Nozomi's mouth curved. He extended one hand toward Nanami, palm up, patient—the way someone might coax a bird onto their finger.
"Come here, Nanami."
Her feet moved before her brain gave permission. The floor creaked once beneath her weight, and then his fingers closed around hers, warm and dry, pulling her gently until she stood between his parted knees. The sandalwood was stronger here—mixed with something earthier beneath, the salt-warmth of his skin after a shower.
"See? Not scary." His thumb traced circles on her knuckles.
She's trembling. Adorable.
"I-I'm here for the massage—"
"Mm-hm." He tugged her forward, and she stumbled, catching herself with both palms flat against his chest. Beneath her fingers, his heartbeat thudded steady and slow—so unfairly calm.
Sayu shifted behind Nanami, fingertips gathering the hem of her pajama top, lifting it an inch. Cool air kissed the sliver of exposed stomach.
"Relax," Sayu murmured against her ear, breath warm and slightly minty. "He's gentle when you let him be."
Nanami's protest dissolved into a sharp inhale as Nozomi leaned forward and pressed his lips to her collarbone—just above where her top sat. Soft. Deliberate. His hands found her waist, thumbs tracing the dip above her hipbones through thin cotton.
"Arms up," Sayu instructed, and Nanami obeyed like someone sleepwalking, her pajama top sliding over her head and vanishing somewhere onto the floor. No bra beneath—she hadn't expected—hadn't planned—
The lamp caught her bare skin, flushed pink from her chest to her hairline. Small breasts, pale and slightly upturned, nipples already stiffening in the room's cool air. She crossed her arms instinctively, but Nozomi caught her wrists.
"Don't hide." His voice dropped lower, almost a command wrapped in velvet. He drew her arms down, holding them at her sides, and looked at her—really looked—until her thighs pressed together involuntarily.
Sayu's sleep shirt was already gone. She pressed herself against Nanami's back, fuller breasts soft and warm against her shoulder blades, and Nanami gasped—a tiny, broken sound.
"Hhah—S-Sayu—"
"Shh." Sayu's hands slid around to cup Nanami's breasts from behind, palms barely covering them, thumbs rolling over peaked nipples. Nanami's spine arched forward, pushing her into Nozomi's waiting mouth.
He took one nipple between his lips—sucked gently, tongue circling the stiffened bud—and Nanami's knees buckled. A whimper escaped, high and thin: "Nnh—haa—"
God, the sounds she makes. Nozomi pulled her onto the bed properly, laying her against the pillows. Sayu crawled alongside, fingers trailing down Nanami's trembling stomach to the waistband of her pajama shorts.
"Can I?" Sayu asked, hooking one finger beneath the elastic.
Nanami nodded, face turned into the pillow, honey-brown hair fanning across white linen.
Sayu peeled the shorts and underwear down together—plain white cotton, slightly damp at the center. The scent hit immediately: sweet, musky, unmistakable arousal mixing with the lavender still caught in her clothes. Nanami's thighs clamped shut.
Nozomi's hand settled on her knee. "Open for me."
She whined but let him part her legs, slow and steady, revealing the slick pink folds glistening beneath the amber lamplight. Sparse honey-brown curls, everything flushed and swollen.
His middle finger dragged through the wetness—base to clit—and Nanami's hips jerked violently off the mattress.
"Ahh—! Nnh—w-wait—"
"You're soaked." He didn't wait. Two fingers pressed inside, curling upward, and Nanami's mouth fell open in a soundless cry. Tight—Christ, impossibly tight—her walls gripping him as though trying to pull him deeper. Her inexperience was written in every reflexive clench, every stuttered breath.
She feels like she's never even done this to herself.
Sayu kissed along Nanami's jaw, swallowing her small desperate noises, one hand pinching and rolling her nipple while Nozomi worked his fingers in a slow, relentless rhythm. Wet sounds filled the room—schlck, schlck, schlck—obscene against the quiet.
"Nno—something's—hahh—Nozomi, I c-can't—nnhaa—!"
Her back bowed, thighs shaking, and she came hard around his fingers—cunt pulsing in tight rhythmic squeezes, slick dripping down his wrist onto the sheets. A broken moan ripped from her throat: "Aahhn—!"
Nozomi withdrew his fingers slowly, coated and gleaming. He brought them to his lips, tasting her while holding her gaze—salt-sweet, faintly metallic.
Sayu was already reaching for his waistband, tugging the sweatpants down. His cock sprang free—thick, flushed dark at the head, curving slightly upward, a bead of precum catching the light at the slit. Nanami stared, chest heaving, eyes wide.
"It... it won't fit," she whispered.
"It will." Nozomi positioned himself between her thighs, cockhead nudging through her soaked folds. Sayu knelt beside them, fingers threading through Nanami's hair soothingly.
He pushed in—slow, achingly slow—and Nanami's nails dug crescents into his forearms. The stretch burned, her body resisting and yielding in equal measure. Inch by inch, her cunt swallowed him, walls fluttering and clenching.
"Hhk—ah—it's—big—nnh—"
Halfway. He paused, jaw tight, sweat beading at his temple. Fuck. She's squeezing me like a vice.
Sayu pressed her lips to Nanami's forehead. "Breathe, Nanami. Breathe out."
Nanami exhaled shakily, and Nozomi sank the rest of the way in—hips flush against hers, buried completely. She felt impossibly full, every ridge of him pressing against her inner walls.
He began to move. Shallow at first, grinding more than thrusting, letting her adjust. Then deeper—pulling back until only the head remained before sliding home again. The bed creaked beneath them, a steady wooden groan.
"Ah—ah—ahh—Nozo—mi—hahh—"
Sayu watched with half-lidded eyes, one hand drifting between her own thighs, fingers working lazy circles over her clit as she took in the sight—Nanami pinned beneath him, small body rocking with each thrust, breasts bouncing in gentle arcs, mouth slack and glistening.
She looks so pretty like this, Sayu thought, biting her lower lip.
Nozomi's pace quickened. His thumb found Nanami's clit—rubbing tight, fast circles—and she shattered again almost immediately, sobbing his name into the crook of his neck, legs locking around his waist.
"Aahh—hahhn—cumming—I'm—nnhh—!"
Her cunt clamped down so hard he groaned through clenched teeth—a low, guttural sound—and thrust once, twice more before burying himself deep. His cock pulsed inside her, hot cum flooding her in thick spurts, filling her until it leaked around his shaft and dripped onto the sheets below.
Nozomi pulled out slowly, and Nanami whimpered at the loss, a thin trail of white following. He pressed a kiss to her damp temple, then turned toward Sayu—who was still touching herself, thighs slick and parted.
"Your turn," he said, and reached for her.
Nozomi didn't waste time with her—he never did.
He grabbed her by the hips and flipped her onto all fours like she weighed nothing at all; Sayu squealed in delight as his rough hands cupped her ass and spread her open for him.
Her cunt glistened in the lamplight—slick already pooling on the sheets beneath her from how wet she got watching Nanami get ruined.
Nozomi lined himself up behind her and thrust inside in one brutal stroke—balls deep to the hilt—and Sayu gasped at the sudden fullness.
She loved it when he fucked her like this—hard and fast and without mercy.
He set a punishing pace right away—slamming into her over and over again until the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.
Sayu moaned shamelessly into the pillow—her voice rising in pitch with each thrust.
"Fuck me harder," she begged him between ragged breaths.
Nozomi obliged—gripping her hair tight at the roots and pulling her head back as he pounded into her even harder than before.
Sayu's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she felt herself hurtling toward orgasm once again—the pleasure building inside of her until it threatened to overwhelm everything else.
She came hard around his cock—her entire body shaking with pleasure as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.
But Nozomi wasn't done yet—not by a long shot.
He kept fucking her through it all—never slowing down or letting up for even an instant—as if determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from both their bodies before finally collapsing together in exhaustion when they were both spent beyond measure...
....
A little while later.
Aoyama Nanami lay beneath the covers, her hands pressed over her eyes, fingers trembling slightly. Her cheeks blazed crimson, and her chest heaved with shallow breaths, the cotton sheets cool against her overheated skin.
Beside her, Ogiwara Sayu had already drifted into satisfied slumber, her dark hair fanned across the pillow, lips parted softly.
Hozuki Nozomi shifted, gently settling Sayu to one side before turning his attention to Nanami. He raised himself up, planting his hands on either side of her ears, caging her beneath him. The mattress dipped under his weight.
"Nanami." His voice dropped low, teasing. "I heard you were at the door just now and still tried to escape."
Facing his expression—that infuriatingly smug curve of his lips—Aoyama Nanami's cheeks burned impossibly hotter. She turned her head away, exposing the delicate line of her neck, avoiding his gaze.
"I didn't try to escape!" she insisted, stubborn even now. "It's just learning a massage technique. I... I feel like I've already learned it."
The scent of him—warm skin and something faintly woody—surrounded her.
"Is that so?" He leaned closer, his breath ghosting across her ear. "Then let's try it and see if you've grasped the essence."
His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and Nanami's protest dissolved into a soft, involuntary "Nnh~"
His hands found her waist beneath the covers, thumbs tracing slow circles against the thin fabric of her pajama top. She squirmed, her back arching slightly off the mattress as his palms slid upward, mapping the terrain of her ribs.
"N-Nozomi... wait—haa..."
"The technique requires patience," he murmured against her jaw, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there. "Don't rush."
His fingers worked the buttons of her top, one by one, exposing pale skin that flushed pink under his attention. She was slender—narrow waist, small breasts that fit perfectly in his palms when he finally cupped them, nipples already stiffening beneath his touch.
She's trembling, he noted, thumb circling one peak until she gasped. Still so sensitive.
"Ahh... mmn... that's not—that's not massage—"
"It's a new technique," he countered, dipping his head to replace his thumb with his tongue. "Focus on learning."
"Hyaa~!"
Her hands flew to his hair, gripping rather than pushing away. Her thighs pressed together beneath him, and he could feel the heat radiating from between them even through the sheets.
He took his time with her breasts—licking, sucking, teasing each nipple until they glistened and Nanami's protests had devolved into breathy whimpers. Her honey-brown hair splayed across the pillow, lips parted and swollen from biting back sounds.
When his hand finally slipped beneath her waistband, she jolted.
"W-wait—Sayu is right there—"
"She's asleep." His fingers found her already slick, folds swollen and warm. "Besides, you need to be quiet for the lesson."
Two fingers parted her, sliding along her entrance, gathering the wetness there before circling her clit in slow, deliberate strokes. Nanami's hips bucked involuntarily, a strangled "Nnhaa~" escaping despite her attempts at silence.
He worked her methodically—building her up with steady pressure, then easing off, keeping her hovering at the edge until her nails dug crescents into his shoulders.
"Nozomi—please—I can't—"
"Can't what?"
"I need—hnn—need more—"
He gave it to her. Two fingers slid inside, curling against her front wall while his thumb maintained pressure on her clit. Her inner walls clenched around him, hot and tight and impossibly wet.
"There we go," he breathed against her ear. "That's the essence."
Nanami shattered with a choked cry, muffled against his shoulder as her whole body seized, thighs clamping around his hand. He worked her through it, gentling his strokes as aftershocks rippled through her.
When she finally went limp, panting and boneless, he withdrew his fingers—glistening in the low light—and brought them to his lips.
"Good student."
"Y-you're terrible," she whispered, but there was no heat in it.
He kissed her forehead, pulling her against his chest. "Get some rest. There's an advanced lesson tomorrow."
Aoyama Nanami wanted to protest, but exhaustion dragged her under before she could form the words.
Hozuki Nozomi embraced the adorable girl and fell into a dream.
...
The next morning.
Pale light filtered through the curtains as Shiina Mashiro pushed away Rita's fair arm—draped possessively across her waist—and stretched elegantly like a lazy cat, vertebrae popping softly.
Hungry, her mind supplied simply. Find Nozomi. Find food.
Seeing Rita still asleep, silver-blonde hair tangled across the pillow, Mashiro rubbed her eyes and rose from the bed. She wore only an oversized shirt—one of Nozomi's, stolen at some point—that fell to mid-thigh, the fabric carrying traces of his scent.
This had almost become Mashiro's daily routine.
Last night, she was supposed to be in Nozomi's bed, but Rita had pulled her away, insisting on "bonding time" that involved very little actual sleep.
Her bare feet padded silently down the hall. She pushed open Nozomi's door without knocking—she never knocked—and slipped inside.
The room smelled of sweat and sex and sandalwood, sheets tangled around three bodies. Sayu had migrated to the far edge of the mattress, Nanami curled against Nozomi's side, her pajama top missing, the covers pooled at her waist.
Mashiro's lavender eyes surveyed the scene with the same expression she might give a particularly interesting paintbrush.
Then she climbed onto the bed.
"Nozomi. Hungry."
Hozuki Nozomi's eyes cracked open. "Mashiro. It's early."
"Hungry," she repeated, settling herself against his other side, her small hand finding his chest.
The motion stirred Aoyama Nanami, who blinked awake—and immediately went scarlet upon finding Mashiro's face inches from her own.
"Nanami is here too." Mashiro's small mouth curved slightly. "How nice."
"Mashiro... Ugh~!" Aoyama Nanami yanked the covers to her chin, mortification flooding her features.
"It's okay. Mashiro doesn't dislike Nanami."
She tastes like strawberries, Mashiro thought absently, remembering the accidental brush of lips the previous morning. Nozomi's strawberry.
Shiina Mashiro, with the most innocent expression, spoke words that sounded like a yuri confession, causing Nozomi's mouth to twitch involuntarily.
He raised his hand and pressed Mashiro's small head downward, toward where the sheets tented. "Mashiro, focus. Don't talk."
With her mouth otherwise occupied, Mashiro could only give him a resentful look—those lavender eyes gazing up through silver lashes—before obediently beginning to focus on her breakfast.
Warm. Salty. Familiar.
"Slrrp... mmn..."
Aoyama Nanami covered her eyes, but her fingers were spread wide, peeking through the gaps as Mashiro's silver head bobbed rhythmically beneath the sheets.
I should look away, Nanami thought, cheeks burning. Why can't I look away?
This morning at Sakurasou was, as always, warm and harmonious.
, refreshed, got dressed and out of bed.
When he arrived in the living room, the scent of miso soup and grilling fish greeted him.
Shiina Mahiru was already busy in the kitchen, her blonde hair tied back, humming softly as she flipped tamagoyaki with practiced ease. Steam rose around her in a domestic halo.
Aoyama Nanami fidgeted in the bathroom for a while before emerging, face freshly scrubbed, and helped Mashiro wash up—wiping the corner of the smaller girl's mouth with a damp cloth, cheeks still faintly pink.
Kamiigusa Misaki, chewing on a piece of bread, rushed out early in the morning to check in at school, her pink hair streaming behind her like a comet tail.
Even a genius like her had to maintain attendance.
After all, they were students—how could they not go to school?
Frieren and Fern, after breakfast, went to find a place to experiment with new magic. And also have a master-disciple battle.
Hopefully, they'd go far away to avoid any news reports of natural disasters tomorrow.
Nozomi dropped Asada Shino off at school. When he returned, Shino mentioned her mother would be coming over tonight, her voice small but steady.
Hozuki Nozomi immediately understood and indicated that he would handle everything.
He would persuade Shino's mother to agree to Shino transferring schools.
...
[Soubu High School — Morning, First Period]
Arriving at Soubu High School, the first class was Kirisu-sensei's.
Kirisu Mafuyu stood at the chalkboard, her posture impeccable, pink hair swept into its usual professional style. She wore a fitted blazer over a cream blouse, the fabric doing little to hide the elegant curve of her figure—slender waist, voluptous chest, the kind of beauty that made students forget to take notes.
Her clear, melodious voice filled the classroom, and Hozuki Nozomi found himself thinking that her tone could make even quadratic equations sound like poetry.
She used to be a professional figure skater, he remembered, watching the graceful economy of her movements as she wrote on the board. Gave up her dream for some reason.
He thought about sending the Cat Agent Team to cause trouble tonight—letting the little tool mice meet Kirisu Mafuyu in some manufactured scenario.
On second thought, he decided against it.
There were many ways to approach Kirisu Mafuyu; there was no need to use such despicable methods.
There would be plenty of opportunities in the future. Perhaps even today.
After class, Kirisu Mafuyu called Hozuki Nozomi out again.
He felt the murderous gazes of the boys boring into his back like heated brands.
Tobe Kakeru was indeed a master of publicity; in just one day, Kirisu Mafuyu's image as a caring, dedicated teacher had made her even more popular among students. And Hozuki Nozomi had somehow acquired the title of "succubus" among the male population.
When the students thought that even the beautiful teacher might be charmed by Hozuki Nozomi, they immediately felt envy, jealousy, and hatred—wishing they could kill him with their eyes and take his place.
In their imagination, Hozuki Nozomi was currently enjoying Kirisu-sensei's private tutoring.
Arriving at a quiet corner of the hallway—near the unused storage room, where the air smelled of old textbooks and chalk dust—Kirisu Mafuyu turned to face him.
Her expression held concern, brows drawn slightly together.
Why do I keep thinking about his wound? she wondered, fingers tightening around her attendance folder. He's just a student.
"Nozomi, how do you feel about the wound on your back? Is it itchy, or are there any other uncomfortable symptoms?"
His wound was scalded by hot oil. Prone to scarring, infection, various adverse skin reactions.
"I'm fine, it's not a big problem." He grinned, easy and disarming. "Thank you for your concern, Ms. Mafuyu."
Kirisu Mafuyu studied his face for signs of bravado, then said seriously, "After school this afternoon, you're coming with me to the resource center. Otherwise, I won't be at ease."
"Okay."
To reassure the beautiful teacher, Hozuki Nozomi could only agree.