anna @ 2:30 🦷

anna @ 2:30 🦷



[nsfw] the day atsumu boasts to his teammates about hitting 90kgs for squats, kiyoomi takes him home, ties his arms up, and makes him ride his cock. when atsumu asks for how long, kiyoomi says, "until i'm satisfied." and there's no way atsumu's backing down from that challenge.

the first few minutes are easy as atsumu revels in the way kiyoomi always fills him up good, the slide—the /sound/—of skin on skin intoxicating. at five minutes, atsumu starts to break a sweat, his quads aching as he bounces up and down and up and down with no end in sight.

when his rhythm starts slipping at seven, a derisive comment from kiyoomi of "already had enough?"—arms crossed over his chest, lips pulled into a sneer—is all atsumu needs to pick up the pace again. it only takes another four minutes for the burn in his muscles to grow from

steady to overwhelming. but the way kiyoomi's fingers are now digging into his waist, the way his breaths have grown labored tells atsumu that he just needs to push himself a little further. so he flexes his legs, squeezes his ass, and drives down like his life depends on it.

when kiyoomi finally finishes—come hot and slick and perfect against his walls—atsumu can't help but let out a sigh of relief, trembling as he lowers himself to sit seiza. he stills when kiyoomi glares, then spits out, "did i /say/ you're done yet?" he slides out of atsumu and

pulls out a dildo, longer and thicker than himself. "that took 15 minutes. now give me another." as kiyoomi sets up, atsumu feels dread creep down his spine like a lit match, licking over every nerve and vertebrae. yet his gut lurches in twisted delight when kiyoomi tells him to

sit once more. it's agonizing—taking the newer, bigger size. kiyoomi starts off with little words of praise that encourage atsumu to sink deeper, but once he's fully sheathed, kiyoomi gives him no time to adjust before urging him back up. atsumu is powerless but to follow.

the burn in his quads instantly reignites as he begins to move. within minutes, his jaw falls slack, chest heaving as he pants like a dog. kiyoomi's fingers find his tongue, and atsumu looks up, eyes wide. the wetness, the weight shoots straight to his cock; he moans, clenching.

"just like that, atsumu," kiyoomi says, squeezing his ass. "if you can make it ten more minutes, i'll even give you a reward." at that, a renewed rush of energy surges through atsumu's veins, and he continues to bounce as kiyoomi leaves his mouth to run over his lips.

because, yes, atsumu wants win, to prove himself, to succeed—but even more than that, he's eager to please. when he doesn't let up for another five, kiyoomi runs a hand through his hair and purrs, "good job, atsumu, keep going," and the praise is strong enough to numb any pain.

but kiyoomi's kind words are only a balm at best. even as he keeps murmuring encouragements, the sensations atsumu'd been keeping at bay swell like a tide until they burst. he cries out as the anguish hits him like a truck, tears stinging his eyes and trailing down his cheeks.

his pace stutters as he rides the wave of agony, and kiyoomi's slap against his ass causes it to crest; atsumu all but howls. kiyoomi takes his jaw between his fingers, forcing him to look into that hard, obsidian gaze. "don't you dare stop now," he growls, and so he doesn't.

but it's like kiyoomi wants atsumu to fail when he grabs his dick in the final stretch. he doesn't even move, lets atsumu do all the work of thrusting into his loose fist as he bounces, relentless. the stimulation is so meagre that atsumu whimpers, more tears falling to his chin.

"thirty seconds," kiyoomi says, and atsumu sobs as his grip tightens. he chases the friction with all of his might. his quads have never burned so terribly, but the torment matters little when he's so near to the finish line. when kiyoomi says, "you're done, atsumu, you can

stop," something deeply unhinged within atsumu causes him to shake his head. he's so close—one more minute. he must say it aloud, for kiyoomi's eyes shift from hungry to ravenous. he squeezes—as tight as he feels inside when their positions are reversed—and atsumu shudders.

he's in heaven, he's in hell; he's dying and reviving in a single breath. it feels glorious beyond belief—giving himself up like this. "come /now/," kiyoomi snaps, and atsumu finishes with a shout, his voice cracking as he climbs impossibly higher. the pain and pleasure mix

into something bigger, better, while his dick pulses endlessly in kiyoomi's firm grip. once he's finally spent, he collapses onto the mattress, dildo still deep in his ass as his quads tremble like teeth chatter.

"wow..." kiyoomi's voice filters into his ears from a mile away. with the last of his strength, atsumu peers up to see kiyoomi looking down at him, eyes full of awe. "that was amazing, atsumu. you did amazing." atsumu warms, smiling at the praise. kiyoomi cups his jaw gently,

plays with his hair. atsumu floats, content, until kiyoomi pushes his bangs out of his face, causing him to glance up again. he pulls the dildo out slowly, then says, "ready for that reward?" atsumu's soft smile morphs into a wicked grin. oh, is he ever.


kiyoomi unbinds his arms, rubbing feeling back into them with his warm hands. "i was planning on letting you come on my cock," he starts, moving to atsumu's wrists. "but now that you've come already, i don't think being fucked would feel much like a reward."

kiyoomi trails lower, to the small of his back then over his ass. he leans in close to atsumu's ear to whisper, "you'd still be into it, though." when he circles atsumu's rim with his thumb, pushing lightly, atsumu's hole flutters. kiyoomi knows him too well.

atsumu lets out a pathetic groan, and kiyoomi chuckles—the sound traveling straight to atsumu's gut, a spark of arousal in his spent and sorry state. "but because you surpassed my expectations, i'm going to let you pick." kiyoomi's gaze is piercing. "what do you want, atsumu?"

atsumu stares back dumbly as a flurry of potential scenarios run through his mind. there's so many, but none of them call to him—none of them gratifying. it takes him a moment to realize that, out of all his options, the one that clicks isn't his idea at all.

"i want you to fuck me, kiyoomi." he pauses before sheepishly adding, "as long as i get to touch ya this time." atsumu watches kiyoomi's pupils dilate before his eyes, and that spark lights a fire. kiyoomi smirks before saying, voice pointedly level, "that can be arranged."

and if atsumu is inclined to please, kiyoomi is /wired/ for it—seeing his word through the end without fail every time. he flips atsumu onto his back and pushes back in without preamble, setting a steady pace off the bat. atsumu distracts himself from his stinging nerves by

pulling kiyoomi down until their lips meet. it's scarily mechanical how kiyoomi's rhythm never falters as he kisses atsumu senseless, licking into his mouth softly as he pounds ruthlessly below. atsumu grows hard again quickly, and kiyoomi only stops to grab lube and take him in

his hand before getting right back into it. atsumu groans brokenly into his mouth as kiyoomi strokes him in time with his thrusts. it doesn't help that the position has his thighs to his chest, flexing to stay upright—every corner of his body /aches/, and not in a good way.

but atsumu asked for this, saw the flames and ran into the fire. he can take the heat if it means being good for kiyoomi. "fuck, atsumu. how are you still so tight?" kiyoomi asks. "was the dildo not enough? am i not enough?" and atsumu tries to answer—of course not, kiyoomi is

not just more than enough, he's /everything/, atsumu's just a slutty hole that's made to be used—but before he can start, kiyoomi lifts his hips higher, cock hitting atsumu's prostate with deft precision. atsumu can only manage a string of babbled "no"s through his desperation.

"oh, this still isn't enough?" kiyoomi bites out in misunderstanding. "what a needy thing you are." "no, that's not it, no, no—" but kiyoomi ignores him, says right into his ear, "no more choices for you, atsumu. you'll be coming again tonight whether you want to or not."

and atsumu doesn't know what to say first—to explain that kiyoomi's got it all wrong, to let him know that's exactly what he wants, to beg for his forgiveness. but kiyoomi steals his breath from his lungs as he drives into atsumu brutally enough to snap the headboard.

atsumu takes it, every inch, every touch, hoping that his gasps and moans tell what he can't. "g-gotta come, omi," he eventually manages through his haze of fucked-up pleasure. "gonna come, gonna come—" "for me?" "for you, for /you/—" atsumu's voice cracks as he comes

again, and this time, more than just his thighs hurt—shards of glass tear through his veins as his climax rips him apart from the inside out. "ahhh—/ah/—omiomiomi—" a warm hand finds his shoulder, grounding. "breathe, atsumu," kiyoomi says, so atsumu sucks in a broken breath.

but despite his calm guidance, kiyoomi's still fucking into him viciously, chasing his own high. when atsumu feels himself crash, kiyoomi must sense it, too. "just another minute, atsumu, can you manage? color?" it's hard to answer, not because he doesn't want it, but because

he feels beaten to oblivion, but he eventually croaks out, "green." what's one more punch? kiyoomi kisses him gently. "good boy," he says against his lips, and the dizzying rush of praise is all atsumu needs to clench down and ride it out until the finish line.

this time, kiyoomi pulls out before he comes. he tries to catch it in his palm, but atsumu uses the last of his strength to pry it away. he keeps his wrist in a firm grip so that the white ropes of come splatter across atsumu's stomach and chest. "disgusting," says kiyoomi, but

doesn't pull back. it's atsumu's reward, after all. kiyoomi's quick to clean them up as always, forcing atsumu to the cushy corner chair as he strips off the sheets. as soon as it's remade, atsumu jumps back onto the mattress, kiyoomi following shortly. they don't talk for a

while as they cuddle, atsumu's eyes shut as kiyoomi plays with his hair the way he knows he likes. "you're still shaking" kiyoomi eventually says, hand slipping down to atsumu's trembling quads. his tone is a touch too smug; atsumu would punch him if he had the strength.

"s'cause you're merciless, omi-kun." atsumu sighs. "definitely not gonna be able to squat 90 tomorrow. not sure i'm even gonna be able to stand." kiyoomi hums, stroking up his thigh, tickling his leg hair. "good thing riding doesn't involve standing," he says, smiling

complacently. "today was a test of your endurance. tomorrow, let's test your resilience." atsumu groans, burying his face into the crook of kiyoomi's neck. he has to go through that torture /again/? the thought makes him want to cry, scream, throw up a little.

but he doesn't say a word, only presses a kiss to kiyoomi's jaw—because, this time, it's not his choice to make. //fin

I literally got 5 hours of sleep, woke up, and wrote the rest of this, so I made myself a meme as a treat THIS THREAD WAS LESS THAN 50 TWEETS THO PLEASE CLAP😭😭😭👏👏 More threads here:

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