whormi 🔞 busy

whormi 🔞 busy



celebrating the miya twins’ bday with their first time 🥰 cw / miyacest, vague underage, nsfw “Ma says we’re not s’posed to touch it!” Atsumu whispers harshly, eyes wide where they stare up at Osamu in alarm. “S’fine,” Osamu huffs, shuffling back on the bunk. “S’normal.”

“Nuh uh!” “Yuh huh!” Atsumu pouts, arms wrapped around his knees. Osamu sits across the mattress, glaring at him. He knows it’s okay, Ma told him so. The last time she told he and Atsumu not to they were way younger, and it was because they were curious little boys.

Now they’re getting older, so it’s okay. Maybe she just hadn’t told Atsumu that yet. He refuses to believe he’s the weird one here. They’re silent for a little longer before Osamu’s curiosity gets the better of him. “D’s that mean you’ve never done it?”

Atsumu looks away, but the blush staining his cheeks and the way he squirms uncomfortably tells him enough. “You’ve never felt good before?” “I feel good all the time!” Atsumu sputters. “Like when we’re playing volleyball—“

“Not like that, stupid.” Osamu scoffs, feeing a little better about it all. He likes having the upper hand. “Then what’d’ya mean?” Atsumu asks, trying to sound petulant, but he’s clearly curious, glancing at Osamu from the corner of his eye. “Like…” Osamu frowns, trying to

think of how to explain. “I dunno… I can show you.” “But Ma said—“ “Ma said different things,” Osamu tells him, huffing as he rearranges his limbs on the bed, already getting a little excited just at the idea of having the chance to make himself feel good.

He can’t as often as he’d like, because he shares the room with his brother, but maybe… “We just don’t tell her,” Osamu says as his fingers clench the waistband of his shorts. “She said it’s okay you just shouldn’t tell people about it…”

Atsumu’s flush hasn’t gone away, and he’s chewing on his lip as he stares at the spot Osamu’s hands hold his shorts. Atsumu nods, shifting his body to face Osamu fully. “We don’t tell.” Osamu takes that as permission to squirm out of his shorts and underwear, taking himself in

hand and sighing immediately. He strokes himself lightly; he doesn’t like it when it’s dry, but he knows it’ll get wetter as he goes. His stomach feels warm, and he rubs at the tip of cock until his breathing stutters and he feels his hand get a little stickier.

He clenches his lips together to keep his sounds to himself more out of habit than anything else as he starts stroking himself a little faster. “What happens at the end?” Osamu’s hand stutters, and he gasps, suddenly remembering he has an audience. He looks up, finding Atsumu

watching him intensely, legs squirming and rubbing together where he sits on the other end of the bed. It takes Osamu a moment to fully process the question. “Um… White stuff comes out, and it feels real good…” Atsumu nods, and then shakes his head. “I’ve done that then.”

“Huh?” Osamu pauses in his movements, staring in confusion. “But ya said y’don’t touch…” Atsumu stares at him for a moment before he starts scrambling to his knees on the bed. Only then does Osamu see the little tent that’s formed in his pants, and then his pants are gone too.

He watches in confusion as Atsumu grabs a pillow, folding it and squishing it between his legs. “Like this,” Atsumu says, hips slowly pumping against the pillow, the red tip poking out between the white of the pillow every so often. “Does it feel good?”

Osamu starts stroking himself again, watching mesmerized as Atsumu nods, lip tucked tight between his teeth. Clearly they’ve both had practice trying to keep their voices down. Osamu let’s his mouth hang open experimentally, ragged breaths and little moans slipping from

between his lips as he collects precum from his tip to spread along his shaft. “Why’d’ya do that?” Atsumu asks, voice high and pitchy, already breathless as he humps the pillow. “Hurts if it’s too dry…” Osamu murmurs, noting how Atsumu never bothered, how his wetness dots the

pillow. “Couldn’t ya spit on it?” Osamu scrunches his nose, wanting to tell Atsumu that’s gross, but he figures it’d be worth a shot anyway. He leans over himself, collecting spit in his mouth as he tries to line up with the tip of his cock before spitting down.

Atsumu moans, watching the string of spit fall slowly down until it lands on Osamu’s shaft. Osamu tentatively keeps stroking, spreading his spit around, hips bucking at how nice the slide is now. “S’good?” Atsumu asks, punctuated by breathy pants as he ruts more desperately.

“S’good,” Osamu breathes in response, leaning back and tugging at himself harder and faster than he’s been able to before. “Is… does it feel good?” Atsumu nods, a little “mhm!” escaping as Atsumu humps at a desperate, uneven pace. “S’soft a-and good…”

Maybe Osamu will try sometime. He can’t tell if it really looks like it would feel good, or if he just likes watching Atsumu do it. His flush has spread down his neck, extending past the collar of his shirt, along with the sweat slipping down his skin. Osamu wants to taste it.

He wants Atsumu to remove his shirt so he can watch Atsumu’s whole body react to how he makes himself feel good. He wants to help Atsumu feel good. He wants a lot of things he hadn’t thought about before. When he comes, he’s can’t hide his whimper. It feels good, better than

it ever has before, and there’s a nagging feeling that it’s because Atsumu did it with him. He tries to catch his breath, watching Atsumu chase his own finish, until he’s spilling all over the pillow. Osamu’s way is less messy he thinks.

They catch their breath together, creeping to the bathroom to wash up together without Ma finding out. They’re quiet when they return to their room, assuming the same position seated on either end of the bed. Atsumu picks at his pillow, now without a case as he lets that dry.

Osamu clears his throat eventually, staring down at the mattress near Atsumu’s knee. “Wanna do that again, sometime?” Atsumu freezes, but eventually lets out an embarrassed noise of affirmation. “M-maybe next time… I’ll help you…”

Osamu nods. “And I’ll help you.” He doesn’t know how he’ll help, but he wants to. He wants to touch Atsumu while they make each other feel good. He crawls over on the bed until he’s sitting next to Atsumu, shuffling until their arms touch.

“Hey Samu?” “Mhm?” “Have you ever done this?” Osamu looks over to Atsumu in confusion, and he’s shocked when Atsumu’s lips touch his own. Briefly, quickly, incredibly softly, and then it’s gone. “I h-have now…” Osamu stutters out, eyes wide. “Me too.”

Osamu blushes, but they both end up giggling about it until they threaten to topple off the bed entirely. They have plenty of other things to try together later. fin.

this is all i’ve got for them this year but i think they’d end up exploring and experimenting together… and they’d be a little silly about it i think

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