[Sakurasou — Evening]
The walk back from the Shinomiya estate had cleared Hozuki Nozomi's head, cool air carrying notes of cherry blossom and distant rain. Sakurasou's familiar silhouette greeted him against a lavender dusk—warm light glowing through curtained windows, the faint clatter of dishes drifting from sowhere inside.
"I'm ho."
He pushed the door open, the words leaving his mouth before he'd thought them. Habit. Comfort.
"Welco ho, Onii-chan~ You must be tired."
Two figures sprang from either side of the entryway—Yuki Suo and Ayano Kimishima, both dressed in matching black-and-white maid uniforms. The skirts fell just above mid-thigh, white aprons cinched at narrow waists, ruffled headbands perched in carefully styled hair. Yuki's outfit hugged her athletic fra with deliberate snugness, the fabric straining faintly across her chest. Ayano's fit looser, more demure, though the plunging neckline still revealed the soft swell of modest breasts.
"Onii-chan, the bathwater is ready, and dinner is cooked," Yuki announced brightly, clasping her hands behind her back. The position pushed her chest forward.
He's definitely staring. Good.
Ayano's cheeks flushed pink as she stepped closer, her signature ahoge twitching atop honey-brown hair. "Do you want to eat first, or bathe… or perhaps—" she hesitated, tongue darting nervously across her lower lip, "—us?"
I can't believe I actually said it. My heart's going to explode.
The words ca out breathy, barely above a whisper. She looked like a small animal trying very hard to be seductive and mostly just appearing adorable.
Nozomi studied them both—Yuki's mischievous confidence, Ayano's trembling innocence. The scent of clean cotton and sothing floral drifted from their freshly-pressed uniforms.
His lips curled into a slow smile.
"Yuki, Ayano. What do you think? What should I do first?"
Yuki grinned, pressing a finger to her chin in mock contemplation. "Hmm, well… Brother, you think about it yourself."
He thought about it.
Yuki's room slled of lavender fabric softener and the faint musk of nervous excitent. Nozomi had them both on her bed within minutes—Ayano pressed against the headboard with her maid skirt bunched around her hips, Yuki kneeling beside her, helping hold her trembling thighs apart.
"Master," Ayano whimpered, her cotton panties already damp, a wet patch visible against white fabric. "T-this is embarrassing…"
Why does it feel so good when he looks at like that?
"You asked for this," Nozomi reminded her, hooking his fingers into her waistband and dragging the underwear down her quivering legs. Slick arousal clung in thin strands. Her pussy was pink and swollen, sparse hair trimd into a neat strip above her clit, inner lips glistening with need. "Offering yourselves to in those outfits. Did you think I wouldn't take you up on it?"
He lowered his mouth to her, tongue dragging flat across her slit. Ayano's back arched off the mattress.
"A-ahhn—! Nngh—!"
Yuki giggled, watching her friend squirm. "Ayano, you're so sensitive. It's cute."
"S-shut up—hahh—you're next—!"
Nozomi worked her thoroughly, alternating between slow, teasing licks and firr pressure against her clit. He could feel her thighs shaking against his palms, her hips bucking involuntarily as he pushed two fingers inside—curling them upward, finding the spongy spot that made her voice crack.
"Nnnah—! Master—! I'm—I'm gonna—!"
She ca with a stuttering cry, pussy clenching rhythmically around his fingers, wetness dripping down his wrist. Her whole body went slack, chest heaving, ahoge drooping sideways.
That was… so intense…
Yuki was already tugging at his belt before he'd even wiped his mouth.
"My turn," she said, voice low with want. "Don't hold back."
He didn't.
He bent her over the edge of the bed, hiking her skirt up to expose her round ass—firm from regular exercise, soft enough to bounce when he slapped it. The sharp crack made her yelp, then moan.
"Haah—yes, like that—"
Her panties joined Ayano's on the floor. Nozomi freed his cock—thick and already straining—and rubbed the head through her slick folds, teasing her entrance.
"You wanted to play, Yuki?"
"Mmn—I wanted you to fuck —"
He thrust in with one smooth stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Yuki's moan caught in her throat, transforming into a choked gasp.
God, he's so deep—I can feel him in my stomach—
Nozomi set a punishing pace, gripping her hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Wet squelching accompanied each thrust, her arousal coating his cock, dripping down the inside of her thighs.
"Ah—ah—ahh—! Onii-chan—harder—!"
Beside them, Ayano watched with glazed eyes, one hand creeping between her own legs again, unable to resist the sight.
When Nozomi finally left the room—both girls fucked boneless and dozing in a tangled heap—he found Aoyama Nanami's gaze waiting for him in the hallway.
Her honey-brown eyes widened, taking in his disheveled appearance. The scent of sex clung to him, unmistakable.
"Nanami. I think we should talk."
He rubbed his hands together, giving her a slow, predatory smile.
That look again. Oh no.
Nanami imdiately hugged both arms across her chest, stepping backward. Her cheeks flooded crimson.
"You wish, pervert!"
She whirled to flee, but Nozomi closed the distance in two quick strides. His arm slipped under her knees, the other catching her back, and suddenly she was lifted against his chest—bridal style, weightless in his grip.
"Nanami," he murmured against her ear, breath warm. "Don't think about escaping."
She struggled—once, twice—then went limp, pouting up at him with those big, resentful eyes.
He always does this. Why do I let him?
"Nozomi. I'm not running, but at least… you should take a bath first."
"Alright. Let's go together."
He carried her toward the bathroom before she could protest.
In the hallway, Yusa Emi—pink-haired and wide-eyed—caught a glimpse of them through her cracked doorway. Her face went scarlet as she slamd it shut.
That man is getting worse and worse! At this rate, I'll lose my virginity before I even defeat the Demon Lord!
She pressed her back against the door, heart hamring.
I have to stay away from him!
But where could she possibly go? This was Sakurasou.
The bathroom was thick with steam, the air heavy with the scent of hinoki wood and citrus bath salts. Nozomi lowered Nanami into the water, then joined her, pulling her small body against his chest.
"You're insatiable," she muttered, though her protests had lost all conviction. Her back pressed against his torso, warm water lapping at her collarbones. She could feel his erection pressing into the cleft of her ass.
It's already hard again? Seriously?
"You sll good," he said, nose buried in her damp hair. His hands wandered, palms sliding across her flat stomach, up over her ribs, cupping her small breasts. Her nipples were already stiff, pebbling against his fingers.
"Nmm—don't just… touch wherever you want…"
"But you like it."
He pinched, gently, and Nanami bit her lip to suppress a whine.
His right hand drifted lower, beneath the water's surface, fingers finding the soft folds between her thighs. She was already slick—not just from the bath.
"Hozuki—haah—"
"Just relax, Nanami."
He worked her slowly, one finger slipping inside, then two, thumb circling her clit in lazy spirals. Her head fell back against his shoulder, mouth falling open. Soft pants echoed off the tiles.
"A-ahh… there… right there…"
Why is he so good at this? It's not fair.
When she ca, it was quiet—a full-body shiver, a stuttered gasp, her inner walls fluttering around his fingers. He held her through it, lips pressing tender kisses to her temple.
Afterward, he washed her hair properly, then toweled her dry with unexpected gentleness.
"Rest well," he told her, depositing her—wobbly-legged and flushed—at her bedroom door.
Yukino Yukinoshita was waiting in the hallway, arms crossed, expression sharp.
"Nozomi. Did you bully Nanami?"
"Uh… I don't think this counts as bullying."
"Hmph. Scumbag."
He definitely did sothing. Look at that satisfied expression.
But despite her words, Yukino turned and walked into his room, her elegant school uniform swishing with each step. She set her bag on his desk—precisely, deliberately—then lowered herself onto the edge of his bed, spine straight, hands folded in her lap.
Even in ordinary clothes, she radiated aristocratic grace. Raven hair cascaded down her back like ink poured over snow-white skin. Her profile was sharp, refined—the kind of beauty that felt almost weaponized.
Nozomi followed, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
He sat beside her, close enough that their thighs touched. His arm slid around her narrow waist, and she exhaled slowly, allowing herself to lean into him—her cheek resting against his chest.
"Yukino-chan."
He pulled her onto his lap in one smooth motion, and she settled against him, feeling the firm ridge of his arousal beneath her skirt.
Again? He's insatiable. But I suppose… I ca here for this.
Her cheeks ward despite herself.
"Pervert. Haven't you explained yourself clearly with Nanami yet?"
"Yukino, are you questioning my abilities?"
"Nmm… don't… don't touch yet."
She raised a hand, pressing her fingers against his lips.
"The thing I asked you to do. How did it go?"
"If you're referring to convincing Kaguya Shinomiya, I think it was successful."
"How did you convince her?"
He explained—the bathroom ambush, the negotiation through steam and strategic intimidation—and Yukino's expression went blank.
"So you just… stayed in her bathroom the whole ti. While she was bathing. And threatened her into agreeing."
"Haha, don't mind such small details. Anyway, I achieved the goal."
He leaned close, lips brushing her ear.
"Good Yukino-chan. You're not going back tonight, are you?"
A shiver rippled through her. Her cheeks burned.
For months we've been together. Months of this man making act completely undignified. And still…
"I won't go back tonight," she said softly. "But you have to be gentle."
"No problem, Yukino-chan."
He laid her down against the pillows, unclasping the buttons of her blouse one by one, revealing pale skin and the lacy edge of a dark blue bra. Her skirt followed, sliding down long legs, leaving her in matching underwear—elegant, understated, the fabric barely concealing the shadow of dark hair beneath.
"Beautiful," he breathed, and watched her blush deepen.
Don't say things like that so casually. It makes it harder to maintain composure.
He undressed her completely, then himself, and settled between her thighs. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance—already wet, already aching for him.
"Nozomi—"
He pushed inside slowly, inch by inch, giving her ti to adjust. Yukino's breath caught, her back arching, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Ahhn—so deep—"
This feeling. Every ti. Like he's claiming all over again.
He moved with deliberate control, each thrust asured, grinding against her clit with every stroke. Wet sounds filled the room—obscene, intimate—accompanied by Yukino's increasingly desperate whimpers.
"More—Nozomi—please—"
He gave her more.
Harder, faster, her slender legs wrapped around his waist, heels pressing into the small of his back. Her elegant composure shattered completely, reduced to broken moans and shaking limbs.
"Cumming—I'm—ahhh—!"
She clenched around him, pulsing, her whole body trembling. Nozomi followed monts later, spilling inside her with a low groan.
They lay tangled together afterward, catching their breath. The room slled of sex and the faint floral notes of her shampoo.
In the middle of the night, the antique mirror in the corner rippled like water.
Suigintou erged—silver-haired, red-eyed, draped in black gothic lolita frills. Her porcelain features twisted into a scowl as she surveyed the occupied bed.
This disgusting human. All he does is that kind of thing.
She floated over silently, then—with great satisfaction—stamped her tiny foot against his sleeping cheek.
Nozomi's face squished under her heel. He snored on, oblivious.
Satisfied, Suigintou returned to her ornate box and closed the lid with a decisive click.
….
Morning light filtered through thin curtains, warming the sheets to sothing golden. Nozomi stirred when small hands tugged at his arm.
Mashiro.
Pale hair, blank expression, enormous eyes fixed on him with singular focus.
"Nozomi. I need you."
I want attention. Why isn't he awake yet?
He blinked slowly, then smiled, reaching up to stroke her cheek.
"Good morning, Mashiro."
She demanded his attention with quiet insistence—crawling into his lap, pressing her forehead against his chest, making soft sounds until he acquiesced. His hands traced soothing patterns down her spine, and she lted against him, completely content.
When she finally left—satisfied and unhurried—Yukino and Mahiru stirred on either side of the bed.
Right. Mahiru had arrived soti during the night, slipping beneath the covers with silent warmth. She lay curled against his other side now, pink hair fanned across the pillow, expression soft and peaceful.
Both won blinked sleepily at him.
"Good morning," he said.
Yukino stretched, wincing faintly. "You promised to be gentle."
"I was."
"Liar."
But she was smiling.
Nozomi slipped downstairs carefully, leaving both won to rest.
…
The kitchen was already occupied.
Ogiwara Sayu stood at the counter, tying on a white apron over her modest blouse and skirt. Her caral-brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, a few strands framing her gentle features. She looked up when he entered, her expression blooming into warmth.
"Good morning, Nozomi-kun."
"Morning, Sayu." He moved to stand beside her, reaching for the spare apron. "I thought I'd cook today."
He's cooking today? I haven't tasted his food in so long.
Her smile widened. Without a word, she took the apron from his hands and circled behind him, fastening the ties around his waist with practiced ease. Her fingers lingered briefly, pressing against his lower back.
"It's been a while," she said softly, "since I've eaten your cooking."
"Then let's make sothing good."
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