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sabraeal · 2 months

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Get Up Eight, Chapter 11

[Read on AO3]

There are few memories of her earliest years left to Shirayuki, but there is always this: her, in no more than her fourth or fifth summer, small legs tucked beneath her on the tatami, following Oba-san’s reflection in the mirror. In those days, Kino-san’s mother could never have aspired to a glass so large nor so clear, but Oba-san had never spoken of where she had come by it. It would only be on those certain nights that emerged from its hiding place, small jars of cosmetic lined up like offerings on a kamidama.

There was always a wistfulness as she settled in front of it, a longing that Shirayuki no more understood than a mackerel might the shadow of a fisherman’s boat. But she watched anyway, riveted by the ritual of white powder and rouge, by the strong sweep that gave shape to Oba-san's brows. It had been said that her grandmother had been a handsome woman in her youth, as captivating as any of the women in the ochaya, even those who commanded a year’s salary to serve tea. Shirayuki never understood why they spoke of it in the past tense; Oba-san was beautiful now— her hair still thick and black, with only the barest threads of silver strung through it; the delicately tracery at the corner of her eyes only adding to their warmth. But as the powder went across her face, erasing even the smallest blemish, she sees it— the woman Oba-san might have once been. Not the warm grandmother she knew, but the flawless face more suited to a shrine than a sake house.

Why do you dress like that, she had asked, because she was too much a child still to know she meant, I like you better as my grandmother.

Perhaps Oba-san had known anyway, for her smile was as benevolent as a bodhisattva. It reminds me of my own mother. I liked to watch her through her mirror— the way you are now, thinking she was even more beautiful than the Benzaitan painted on the temple’s scrolls. And when I put on this face, I remember her— the way she used to play the biwa in our rooms. The way she played for the love of it.

But your kimono. Shirayuki eyed the exaggerated curve of her collar, baring the whole of her nape. Why are you wearing it like that? Won’t you get cold?

It would be years yet until she saw her first procession in the streets of Edo, until she glimpsed the enticingly bared necks of the most expensive oiran. Until she understood her grandmother’s giggle, hidden behind a hand.

I wonder. Her mouth curves coyly, the lurid red of the paint turning it from familiar to fearsome. Like a wolf wearing her grandmother’s face. Or perhaps more fittingly, a fox. But I have heard that men find a bare nape quite distracting.

Shirayuki may not have understood just what sort of distraction Oba-san implied, but even so, she had worn her collars even closer after that, fussing with the knot of her head scarf until it obscured what skin remained. Even the smallest child knew: distractions lead to accidents; surely it was her duty to make sure her neighbors did not come into misfortune or misadventure.

It wasn’t until later— much, much later— that Oba-san would take her aside and explain why grown men would turn their heads as she passed. Why even with her most modest kimono and hair entirely covered, their eyes would linger on her back. About the intricacies of the union of man and woman, and the complications that could arise from it. And by then, well—she had her own ways of discouraging wandering eyes.

Which hardly helps her now, when it’s her own that stray.

Her feet hurt, that’s all. It makes her mind desperate for an escape, for a distraction from the growing numbness in her toes. And Obi walks just in front of her, his kimono slung askew, as if he’d just come from the baths. As if it hardly concerned him who saw the skin stretched taut across his shoulders, collar lingering low enough to bare where the blades of them kiss.

He should be pale there. She is, at least. But stripped down to his fundoshi at the river’s edge, she’d seen every inch of him, bronze as if he had been personally sun-kissed by the kami themselves. A pale scar cuts across his shoulder, like kintsugi in reverse, and her eyes are drawn to it, tracing down past where the fabric curls and wondering—

“Ojou-san.” Obi’s long fingers catch her elbow, searing through her juban. Her attention bobbles guiltily from his grip to his grin. “Here. Maybe that’s what you need for those feet of yours.”

Curiosity and confusion churns in her mind as she follows the tilt of his head, settling first on cloth spread over the packed earth, then on the cluster of offerings placed so purposefully across it. Slivers of dried licorice for the throat, a heap of clove buds for the stomach— even cinnamon dried and powdered, to ease a fever.

“A mendicant’s stall,” she murmurs, eyes wandering greedily over his wares. “Do you think he might have…?”

Her teeth clamp shut when she catches the sight of a slim little packet, the paper so thin she can make out the shape of small spheres beneath. Silver ones, she knows, since it has to be—

“Uiro!” the charlatan quacks, smile wide. “Good for anything that might ail you! Stomachache? Headache? Feeling a little light headed? One pill will have you back on your feet in no time!”

Shirayuki turns on her heel. It’s charm that these con artists rely on to hawk their wares, offering easy answers for a premium price; only the foolish choose to linger. Or rather, she tries to— but her ankles twist beneath her, the twine of her straw sandals doing little to help save keeping them on her feet. She stumbles once, twice, and on the third, her knees wobble, threatening to give—

But the firm grip on her elbow keeps her upright. “Not to your liking, eh, ojou-san?”

“It’s snake oil.” Each word strains through her teeth to remove the venom. She’s not foolish— nor stable— enough to shrug off his help, but she does hurry as much as her hobble allows.

Obi hums, humor curling beneath the thin veneer of deference. “Snake oil sounds like just what those feet of yours need right now.”

It’s right there, perched on the tip of her tongue— a whole lecture on the efficacy of these ‘local specialties’— but Obi casts her one of this sideways looks, the kind that makes her skin feel a size too tight, and, ah, he means oil. The kind that could be rubbed into the skin, the way he had with the salve last night. Her feet may be numb, but the arches of them tingle where his thumb had run along them, confident and gentle, a steady stroke from arch to toe. Thinking of him with oil in hand, her heels cradled between his thighs, those clever fingers digging deep into the places that ache—

It makes her far too breathless when she murmurs, “It’s not that kind of medicine. Just…pills to prey upon the most desperate.”

The sigh that saws from him would be more at home on the stage than the street, wistful and insincere all in one. “More’s the pity, ojou-san. I would have enjoyed being on my knees for you.”

There’s a curtain hung over the shop’s door, one Obi holds aside as she shuffles through. “You sure you don’t need to put your feet up first, ojou-san? The kimono aren’t going anywhere.”

She does— her feet hang at odd angles when she lifts them, as if everything below the ankle is simply dead weight. Every step is a gamble, a chance that she might roll instead of walk. But to stop now, well— Shirayuki knows that they will not hold her again. “A little longer won’t hurt,” she lies. “It’s not as if I can keep walking around like…”

This, she means to say, juban already pinched between her fingers. But it’s not simply that, not at all. It's already nicer than any of the ones she had stored away in the sake house; the cotton’s so fine it could be a kimono itself. If she to wrap an obi around it, she might pass for properly dressed for days before anyone noticed a lack of layers.

But that's the problem: it’s too fine. All of it is. Miyoko-san had dressed her like a daughter— no, like Kino-san’s wife, with fabric so well-woven it might well be silk. Shirayuki had no eye for cloth, but even she could tell it was worth nearly a year of a working man’s wages. With every eye that lingered as they passed through each post station, the cost was becoming too dear.

Obi lingers in front of a rack, squinting at the robe stretched across it. “These are pretty fine, ojou-san. Good taste.”

“I’m not…” Looking for nice, she doesn’t say, not when the walls burst with color; not the simple stripes she has worn as the proprietor of the sake house, but bright waves of blue that crash into storms of swirling petals, giving way to ships that sail placid bays and flowers that burst into bloom. The sort of shop a real ojou-san might shop in, looking for her everyday wear. “…Hopefully they’ll have something that suits our needs.”

He hums, unconvinced, but she’s saved from his needling by an older woman, emerging from the back of the room with a smile warm enough to keep back the night. “Okyakusama, welcome, welcome. Come in. How is it that I may help you?”

Shirayuki’s attention skitters over the fabric, trying to land on something, anything she could buy ready-made, but—

But she must hesitate too long. Obi bows at her shoulder, far more deferential than any he’s shown her, and says, “We have been traveling a long ways, and my mistress finds herself in need of a new kimono. One that is fit to be worn on the road.”

The proprietor examines her with an appraiser’s eye, taking in her juban’s quality of weave and the brightness of its white. Two days of near constant wear do not display it to its best advantage, but the woman’s eyes crinkle regardless, the faintest curve lingering at the corners of her mouth.

“Yes. I think we can find something that will suit your needs.” She inclines her head, one arm sweeping out towards a room further back in the show. “If you would follow me?”

Shirayuki, in all fairness, tries. Her toes lift, sandal dragging after them, but though her plodding steps had worked fine on the hard-packed earth, tatami is another matter entirely. Her straw sole catches in the narrow gap between mats, and had it been any other day, it would have been nothing to right herself, to simply blush and live with the embarrassment of stumbling like a child. But today her ankles fold instead of standing firm, and she pitches forward, hands flying out to catch herself—

“Ojou-san.” Obi’s voice is as tight as the grip on her elbow, holding her upright. “You should sit down.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine.” She waves him off— or at least she tries. Instead, one flick of her wrist sets her wobbling, knees ready to give at the slightest inconvenience. “Just— just tripped over myself, that’s all.”

He stares down at her, the furrow between his brows implying both concern and incredulity as the proprietor asks, “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” Shirayuki starts, but it’s drowned out by Obi’s, “Would it be possible for my mistress to sit?”

The woman’s eyes round, glancing to where her feet lay just hidden in the shadow of her hem.

“It would be my pleasure, Okyakusama. I will have it brought out presently.” It would be impossible for her to see the stains on her tabi, not when Shirayuki had taken such pains to wash the blood from them only the night before, but still, she nods, too knowing. “The path to Odawara is hard, no matter whether you come from the pass or the paddies. It is best you do not strain yourself, ojou-sama.”

“Ah!” A flush burns at the tips of her ears. “There’s no need for you to—”

Whether she meant to protest the seat or the honorific, Shirayuki hardly knows, but she’s not given the chance to find out— an assistant hurries over, unfolding a stool right at her feet. Obi wastes no time maneuvering her onto the stretched hemp cloth, setting her bundle aside and tucking her feet so that no wayward apprentice or distracted customer might trip over them. It’s thoughtful, she’ll admit, but Shirayuki scowls at him anyway.

It only serves to pull his mouth wider. “Don’t worry, ojou-san,” he says, so solicitous, so insincere. “You can leave everything to me. I promise I’ll be responsible.”

With your money, he doesn’t say, but his smirk does in spades. “Obi—!”

When Obi turns, it is all charm, even his mended kimono seeming more rich for its humility. “My mistress says that she will leave the rest in my hands, okusama.”

“But—!”

“Please rest, ojou-san,” he hums, turning the force of that charm on her now. “Your humble servant will happily tend to all your desires.”

Ah, her protest had been perched so prettily on her lips, ready to be let loose— but now it stumbles instead, tongue tangling behind her teeth as his brows lift, a suggestion and a tease all in one. It’s impossible to look at him, not when she can still feel his teeth on her neck, phantom pins prickling all up and down her spine.

“A-all right,” she murmurs, cheeks so hot she must rival the color of some of these fabrics. “I’ll wait.”

The woman glances back at her with the faintest smile. “Come with me, okyakusama. I think I have something that will please you.”

Were Shirayuki able to pace, she would surely have worn a trench in the tatami. In her head, mon slip between her fingers, fluttering away like sakura petals on the wind. It should be her back there— she is the daughter of a sake house, used to dickering down to the very last coin, and Obi…

Well, she’s not quite sure where he’s from, but he can’t squeeze a sen like she can. Or at least, so she thinks until he emerges from the back with kimono in hand, grinning from ear to ear. The proprietor, though hardly unfriendly, appears distinctly less pleased.

“Come on, ojou-san,” he hums, sauntering across the tatami, an assistant just behind him. “Let’s get you dressed.”

“Well, ojou-san?” he croons from behind the curtain. “What do you think?”

It’s lovely. That’s her first thought, the one she’s had since the owner’s assistants had stretched it out between them. Bright blue cotton with a motif of white cranes in flight, a small flock chasing up one sleeve while a larger one soars over the waves that roll from waist to hem.

“You chose better for me than I would have myself,” she admits, smoothing her hand over the fine fabric. She would have gone for one the striped fabrics, humble yet fashionable, and yet—

Obi pokes his head through, grinning when her hand snaps away, as if the cotton burns. “I spent our money well, didn’t I, ojou-san? Got a nice price for it and everything.”

“You spent my money well.” His shoulder stiffen guiltily at her correction, and her eyes narrow. “Didn’t you?”

“I wonder,” he hums, crouching down in front of her, hands held out behind his back encouragingly. “Now come on. We better find some place to put our heads down before the inns all fill up. You don’t want to have a moss for a futon and a rock for a pillow before heading up that pass.”

She hesitates, the phantom slide of worn fabric beneath her palms, heat a lingering memory. “I could probably walk, if you wanted. You must be tired of carrying me around.”

“You, ojou-san? ” He casts her a sly look, and with barely more than a huff, he scoops her up, bundle and all, with all the grace of a servant accustomed to being well-used. “I told you, I’m happy to serve.”

“But…” It’s hard to tie words together when she can feel the stretch and release of his muscles against her thighs— or when the proprietor and her assistants look on with such bemused expressions.

He bows to them, dragging a yelp from Shirayuki’s throat. “Thank you, my mistress is pleased with our purchase.”

She bows over her hands as well, amusement tugging at her lips. “Thank you for your business.”

Shirayuki resists the urge to squirm until they step outside the shop; they barely make it a stall before she swings her legs, hoping the motion might make him release— but all it serves to do is make him hoist her higher, hands gripping hard at her thighs.

“Obi!” she gasps, too breathless for authority. “Really, you can put me down!”

“It’s no problem to carry you, ojou-san. You’re light as a feather.” He jostles her again, just to prove his point. Or to make her cling closer; whatever it is, he accomplishes it. “Besides, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of having your body—”

Her hand wraps over his mouth. “T-that’s enough!”

His mouth widens against her palm, teeth pressed against flesh, and really, that should be all the warning she needs. But instead she grips him more firmly, hoping to keep all those strange, terrible thoughts from tumbling across her mind, and—

And he licks her. Not a simple swipe across her palm, the way Kino-san had once, when they were just children, but— but wedging between her fingers, wrapping around—

“Jou-chan!” Her hand drops, as if his skin seared. “There you are.”

“O-oh, Mihaya-dono,” she gasps, Obi’s shoulders stiffening beneath her palms. “You found us!”

“Too bad,” Obi mutters, squeezing her closer as Mihaya and his men approach, their baggage slung across their shoulders.”

“We sure did, though you two didn’t make it easy!” There’s a strange look that passes between him and Obi, accusatory and smug on both sides, but Mihaya shakes it off with a smile. “I didn’t think you’d be able to get far without your clothes, but I see you handled that just fine.”

Obi huffs, hiking her higher. “Thought ojou-san might like something that didn’t have monkey’s paws all over it.”

If Mihaya hears him, the only sign is a the smallest twitch his his cheek. “Guess we’re not making it much further today, jou-chan. Better go see what’s available before it’s all taken up.”

Shirayuki would love to protest, to insist that she could make it just as far as them injured feet or no, but she takes one look at the sun sitting heavy on the horizon, and the steep climb of the mountains beyond the walls and simply nods. “I’ve heard we’ll want good rest before starting up the pass tomorrow.”

“That’s right. It’s hard going, but it’ll be worth it for the springs at the end.” He spares them both a measured glance, as if he’s counting inches— or perhaps mon. “Two rooms, right? One for jou-chan, and another for the rest of us.”

“Ah.” Her fingers knot in the shoulder of Obi’s kimono, uneasy. “I guess…?”

“My mistress shares a room with me,” Obi informs him coolly, as if they had been traveling together for ages, and not a single night. “On the second floor.”

“Oh, got preferences do we?” one of Mihaya’s men laughs, a scar tracing down his forehead and across a cheek. “Your mistress has some fancy tastes.”

“My preference, actually.” The tension melts from Obi’s shoulders, muscle long and languid beneath her palms. “A bit of a deterrent for anyone who gets ideas about making a midnight visit.”

Another one of the men chuckles, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Not much of one! I’ve climbed up the outside of one of these places plenty of times! Easier than taking the stairs.”

Obi’s mouth parts in a grin that’s more tooth than toothsome. “I’d love for someone to try it. Especially here, with all these dōshin hanging around, just looking for an excuse to gut a man.”

The man may pale, but his lips still flap, words trying to find purchase. "Well, I--"

“Hey.” Mihaya's elbow buries itself in the man's side, as sharp as his sneer. “Don’t run your mouth.”

Those broad shoulder hunch, bringing a mountain of a man down to hill-size. “Y-yes, sir.”

When Mihaya turns to her, he's all smiles; a sunny sky after a storm. "Sorry about that, jou-chan. Now why don't we go get all this sorted out?"

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #1000 followers #get up eight #my fic #samurai au #edo au #ans #oh man the shuffling that happened to this chapter's timeline was IMMENSE #but i think we are finally about to reach the head of this little conflict in the next couple of chapters #because it's just about time for the HOT SPRINGS EPISODE #probably not next time #but SOON >:3c

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lamnwar · 2 years

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omgomg i literally have had knb brainrot for like a month and i cant get this scene out of my head. so yn accidentally went into the boys sauna and kiyoshi and hyuga were there. they were curious but then yn started playing w herself, and when they were abt to call her out, she m0aned their names and boom smut😮‍💨 or honestly any duo that you feel comfortable with!! and like a short fic form would be good plss🥺

First I wanna preface by saying I saw a request like that done by @ferg0s (loved it btw <3) so if there is similar stuff, it's unintentional 😗

Also bold of you to assume that I would EVER refuse to write a threesome with Daddy Hyuga and the loml Kiyoshi 😩 writing this >>> like it's legit longer than expected because I got that carried away lmao thanks for the request honey 💕

Up to Expectations // Hyuga Junpei x Fem!Reader x Kiyoshi Teppei

MDNI 18+

Context: it isn't really your fault that you've got into the men's bath, and it isn't really your fault that you've got caught by two of your teammates in a compromising position. All characters are aged up (early 20s).

Warnings: wheeeew it is basical smut with a plot so hmm yeah 😩 female masturbation, ig voyeurism in some ways?, threesome, oral sex (f! and m! receiving), reader swallows oops, vaginal sex (unprotected), creampie, reader being called "pretty" by Hyuga and Kiyoshi and "honey" once by Kiyoshi, reader calls Hyuga "captain" I had to, Kiyoshi being a tease because yes, slight praise kink too- that's probably the nastiest thing I ever wrote lmao 🧎🏾‍♀️

You may not be the one on the court, or the one coming up with strategies for all the different games, but boy is it tiring to be the manager of one of the best basketball teams in the country. You are required to keep up with everything – from gathering data on the players and adversaries to making sure that their new uniforms are getting delivered in time. So obviously, when your team just went through all the final phases of the championship within the short span of 2 weeks, you are exhausted, to say the least. But your boys and your coach? They’re barely alive right now. As a last effort as a manager, you’ve decided to book a trip to the hot springs, figuring out that it can only do you good to soak in hot water for a couple of hours, letting out all tensions.

What you haven’t figured out, although you’re generally rather sharp, is that the hot springs can also create some tension. To be fair, the actual situation you are in is rather unpredictable. In appearance, everything seemed normal. Two baths, one for the men, one for the women, separated by a bamboo wall. Except that the bamboo wall isn’t a separation between the men and women section, but rather a separation between the two baths of the men section. And to make thing worse, the wall has a hole in it, merely hidden by an excuse of a bush. You’ve come to take notice of it when you’ve simply looked on your left, and faced the naked butt of one of the players; and right after, you’ve seen these familiar faces, who thankfully haven’t seen you.

“Well, if that ain’t my lucky day” you sigh to yourself.

Unless you move, they might not realize that you’re here, so all you have to do is stay in place. The issue is, they clearly aren’t planning on hiding anything – why would they, they’re amongst themselves. See, the thing is you are used to see them walking around half naked in the locker room. But butt ass naked? Never. At first, you keep your cool, really thinking that you can stay hidden before they leave and you won’t feel tempted to sneak a peek.

Then comes a time though, where you really can’t help but look. Especially when the senior players you’ve known for years are the last people left in the men’s bath. You can’t lie to yourself, knowing them for so long, there are a couple of occurrences when they’ve occupied some of your bedtime fantasies. And now that you get a glimpse of what they truly have, you can’t help but remembering these fantasies. They’re up to your expectations, beautiful bodies that they carry with such confidence – and you would to, if you had what they have. The few sighs that you’ve caught of their satisfied faces, wet bodies, and the outline of their spread legs underwater are intoxicating. All your thoughts are occupied by these images that you’ve caught in the sickest way. The warmth between your legs isn’t caused by the hot water, and it becomes harder to resist the urge to slip your hand between your legs and play with yourself.

It really can’t be help, you think to yourself when your fingers graze your labia, teasing yourself, while your other hand cups your breast.

As long as you don’t get caught, you aren’t doing anything wrong, you repeat to yourself while you’re circling your clitoris.

It’s they’re fault, for being so hot, you assure yourself when muffled gasps come out of your mouth and you whisper to yourself the namesl of your players.

“Are you having fun there?”

Kiyoshi Teppei. Certainly the senior player you’ve fantasized about the most. Hidden behind his looks of gentle giant, he hides the body of an Adonis, and when you see his sheer strength on the court, you can’t help but imagine how easily he can wreck you. Hearing his voice this time, however, might be the most frightening thing ever. You slowly turn your head towards the hole in the bamboo wall, meeting his gentle eyes. They lay directly on you, and you are too stunned to move.

“Who are you talking to, Kiyoshi?”

Hyuga Junpei, your team captain, and the guy who makes you weak every time he talks to you. His naturally commanding voice is what gets you every time; something about his words sounding like commands almost had you reply with a “yes daddy” once. You see his face peeking through the hole next to the brunette, a surprised “oh” coming out his lips. Your head’s empty, but you still try to make up an excuse to why you are here.

“I... I got into the wrong section and I didn’t know what to do, so I stayed and I figured-“

“As long as no one catches you, you’re fine” you are interrupted by Kiyoshi. “But you haven’t answered me yet, are you having fun?”

You are not sure what to respond, and you don’t have time to either as Hyuga answers in your place.

“Don’t be stupid Kiyoshi, she definitely is” he points at your hand placement and you quickly realize that your hand is still between your legs, and they’re is no way in which you can lie yourself out of this situation.

“Did we do that to you, pretty? Have you been peeping at us all this time and got all hot and bothered?”

Kiyoshi’s voice is as soft as usual, but his words still sound mean. You aren’t stupid, you know that he is teasing you and you cannot excuse the embarrassment you’ve brought to yourself, so you figure you should lift your hand from its place between your folds.

“Keep them here” Hyuga’s voice resonates.

You immediately obey, part of you wondering why so – is it because you feel like you have no right to stop your filthy activity now that you’ve got caught, or is it because you are somehow turned on by the words of your captain?

“Go on, show us what you were doing while thinking about us.”

You gulp, hesitatingly spreading your legs wider as the clear water let them see the shape of your cunt, while your delicate fingers tease your lips slowly, uncovering your throbbing clit.

“Aw, I’ve always known you love us that much” Kiyoshi laughs softly. “Have you been fantasizing about one of us or...?”

“The two of you” you reply shyly.

Hyuga raises his eyebrow at your answer, intrigued yet rather interested by it.

“And would you like us to do the things you’ve imagined to you?” he asks.

Instead of words, a needy whimper escapes your lips. You are ashamed, but on the moment, it can’t be help. Despite the embarrassment of being caught, you are given the opportunity to bring to life what you’ve always wanted and all things considered, you’d be a fool to refuse such opportunity.

“Don’t move, we’re coming to you.”

And effectively, you don’t move at all, partly because you can’t believe that what is happening is real, partly because you cannot go against Hyuga’s words no matter what. The seconds it takes for them to join you seem like eternity, but when their giant frames appear in your sight, you are left speechless. Seeing their naked glistening bodies in front of you, your fingers reprise their previous activity between your legs almost by reflex. What else can you do, anyways, seeing two hot guys like that standing in front of you, flaunting their gorgeous dicks, all for you?

“Look at her, Kiyoshi, she really can’t help herself” a sigh escapes Hyuga’s lips as he enters the water.

“Come on, let’s make this a group activity.”

You watch the tall brunette with much envy, practically begging him with your puppy eyes to touch you. It’s almost as he reads your mind the moment he comes closer, the nicest smile on his face – although his actions are far from nice. The force with which he pushes your hand away from your pussy and sit your body on the edge of the bath is not comparable to anything you’ve imagined in your dirtiest dreams. What is up to your expectations, however, is how much you love him manhandling you. You are at the mercy of these big hands, when he spread your legs and stand back, nudging his teammate in his ribs.

“Hey, Hyuga, doesn’t she look delicious?”

“She sure does. Who’s getting a taste first?”

They both shrug at each other, seemingly incapable of deciding who gets to touch you, eat you out first. This situation is torture – if it was up to you, you’d have both of their heads between your legs.

“I’ll have both of you in whatever way you want” you let out when they turn to you, expecting you to decide who gets you first.

They both look at each other, smiling.

“Is that so?”

You nod eagerly, and their grins widen. You look at them, impatiently waiting for anyone, just one of them, to lay any part of their body against you. Your legs are shaking, the hands you’ve set at your side struggling not to snake back to your cunt and appease that painful knot in your lower stomach.

“Then, who do you want first?”

This question is the worst thing to you. Between the one you want to absolutely rail you, and the one that could get you on your knees without even asking, it’s impossible to choose. But you have to admit, you are wary of Kiyoshi’s nice and soft tone. Despite him keeping up his façade of gentle giant, there is a flame slightly twisted in his eyes. On the other hand, Hyuga is straight forward, clearly showing his intention of making you his little puppet. It is sick and twisted, on both sides, but as the one who’s been touching yourself while peeping at them, who are you to judge?

You sigh, thinking that you might just be overthinking it. In both cases, you’ll get the chance to get fucked by two of the most attractive guys you know – and that you’ll ever know. For the first time of the night, you take things into your own hands, pulling Hyuga closer into a hungry kiss. He isn’t slow to kiss you back, hand holding your face by the neck, while the other trails down your body to find its place against your throbbing clitoris. You moan in his mouth when he starts drawing circles around it, without needing to get you wet as you’ve already taking care of that yourself. He pulls away from the kiss, letting you gasp for air.

It doesn’t take long before you feel his tongue replace his fingers, finding yourself in total bliss as you grab his head, messing with his soft black hair. Your eyes move to meet Kiyoshi’s, who appears to have taken a few steps back, now sitting in front of you and admiring the spectacle. He looks directly at you, this same eerily nice smile on his lips. You feel shy, knowing that he gets to see these lewd looks your face will your captain eats you out; however, you can’t help it. Hyuga doesn’t only lead on the court, he also does so between your legs. He does just the right thing to turn you into a whimpering mess.

“Captain...”

He looks up at you, hearing you moan this word by accident. You can’t tell if he likes it or not at first, but he is quick to work his tongue against your clit, and you immediately realize that he surely goes off to you calling him by his official title.

“Should I make our pretty manager cum, Kiyoshi?” he asks getting up from your cunt just as you’re about to reach the heights of your pleasure.

You furrow your brows, shooting a pleading look to the giant man in front of you, and he laughs. Softly, yet in a way that makes you ache.

“You let her cum if I get to fuck her right after” he replies.

You take turn staring at the two men. It seems that you’ve become nothing but a body at their mercy – not that you would complain, because it arouses you even more. Well, at the end of the day, you did give them free range.

“Is that what she wants? What do you say, pretty?”

You eagerly nod, not caring about the arrangements, as long as you get something from both of them. They both let out a chuckle, Hyuga (for once) adorning a kind look on his face.

“Adorably needy.”

You whimper, feeling his tongue returning in between your folds as he reprises his previous activity. It doesn’t take long for you to go back to your high, reaching your orgasm within minutes. You hold to the shooting guard’s hair, almost suffocating him between your thighs as pleasure washes over you. You’re not even back to Earth that you feel strong arms lifting you, eyes still in daze when they face Kiyoshi’s gentle iris as he carries you the other side of the bath. He sits down on a bench, you on his lap, smile on his face.

“Do you want my cock, honey?” he asks as he tugs a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You whimper as a response, which makes him laugh. You swear you’ve never been with someone that smiles and laughs so much in such situation; and while it may seem nice, in his case, it clearly hides something else. Your personal theory is that this exaggerated amount of niceness hides a complete freak – which you wouldn’t mind, but you grow impatient to know if you are right or not. But before you can get to see for yourself, your thoughts stop on the man that has previously pleasured you, realizing that you haven’t given back. You turn your head, looking for Hyuga, finally seeing him coming your way, dick painfully erected.

“Can I do something about him?” you point out.

The concerned lifts his head towards you, definitely interested by the idea of you bringing him to his release instead of having to take care of it himself.

“Whatever you want” he says, coming closer to you.

You stare at his dick, almost salivating. It looks prettier than you’ve expected, and incredibly delicious. With stars in your eyes, you take it in your hand and lead to tip to your lips. You take a taste of him, shyly, yet barely hiding your hunger. Soon enough, your hand and mouth work him out, soft grunts coming out of his lips.

“Fuck, you’re too good at this” he sighs.

His words of praise make you grind against Kiyoshi, making the brunette’s breath hitch in his throat. The more you go, the more you drive the two men crazy, and you can feel Kiyoshi’s cock growing bigger against you. You look down at it for a second, eyes widening at its size. You shouldn’t be so surprised, he’s a big boy so it’s in proportion with the rest of his body; yet, you can tell if knowing that you are going to take it soon excites you or makes you nervous.

You shake these thoughts away, deciding to focus on what you are doing. By the way your captain’s hips thrust in your mouth, you can predict his release and you stop, looking at him.

“Would you like to cum in my mouth, captain?”

“Shit, yeah” he grunts when you take him back into your mouth.

A few more strokes and licks and you can feel the warm feeling in your mouth, his semen sliding down your throat when you swallow. You let him go, swiping your swollen lips and looking up at him like you’re waiting for his feedback. His dazed out eyes are enough to convince you that you’ve done a great job, and it only helps that he gently caress the top of your head, making you smile.

“You’re doing amazing” Kiyoshi praises you “should I reward you by letting you ride me?”

“Please” you beg giving him doe eyes.

He doesn’t wait, positioning you above his cock and letting you take him in slowly. The stretch is a lot, but the more you take, the more you want. You eventually sit there, with as much as him possible in you. And when you are ready, you move, the slow thrusts building your arousal. Your pace takes on, you are too lost in your own pleasure to realize that Kiyoshi’s hips have found a will of their own and before you know it, you are completely at his mercy. Your eyes shut open under his powerful thrusts, wailing at how good it feels – though it came as a surprise. He smiles, tightening his grip on you.

“You can take it, pretty, you are being so good to me” he says, leaving kisses all over your face.

You are unable to respond with words, going completely stupid for his dick. The images of your fantasies blend with the current moment, realizing that you are, effectively, getting railed by Kiyoshi.

You feel your orgasm approaching when his big fingers start to tease your clitoris. You hold to him for dear life, trying to keep your eyes open so you can take in the sight of his pleasured face, but your eyes shut close as soon as the knot in your lower stomach unravels. You cry, chest pushed against his, incapable of feeling anything else but your high.

“Oh pretty, you’re going to make me cum” you hear Kiyoshi grunt as you regain your senses.

His continuous thrusts in your clenching cunt might be driving him crazy, given how more animalistic his movements are. You let it go at it, feeling overworked, yet needing him to cum just for you.

“Do you wanna fill me up?” you ask, voice weak.

You hear Hyuga chuckle next to you.

“Isn’t our little manager the perfect girl” he comments, getting hard again at the sight of his friend fucking you senseless.

It only takes a few more seconds before you feel Kiyoshi release inside of you, coating your walls in his precious liquid. He stays inside you, panting. You watch, a faint smile on your lips. You can’t help it, everything about this situation is euphoric. You’d never thought that you’d bring your nastiest fantasies to life, yet here you are – filled with both Hyuga’s and Kiyoshi’s cum, a symbol of how you’ve become theirs.

“Do you wanna rest now, pretty? You’ve been so good for us” asks Kiyoshi.

This time, his softness doesn’t come as deceiving. He seems to genuinely care about you, which makes your heart melt a little. You ponder, part of you exhausted, part of you addicted to these two men. You look at Hyuga, his growing erection almost asking to be taking cared of, and taking this piece of information in consideration, you hesitate even more.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll take care of it” he reassures you as if he’s read your mind.

“Are you sure?”

He laughs softly, coming closer to leave a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I’ll have other occasions to fill you up, won’t I?”

You nod, head resting on Kiyoshi’s shoulder.

“Now that we’ve got a taste of you pretty girl, we’re not letting you go.”

#fun fact: i've watch the hot springs episode at least 3 times #anyways #that was it for me #hope y'all like this #it was really fun writing it #no but seriously #i might feed you more hyuga and kiyoshi content now bc i'm on my knees for them #knb #kuroko no basuke #kiyoshi teppei #hyuga junpei #knb x reader #kiyoshi x reader #hyuga x reader #knb smut #kiyoshi smut #hyuga smut

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