[nsfw] skts, bathtub sex, service top Atsumu Kiyoomi is inexplicably drained. The source isn't sleepiness nor soreness nor sickness—it's a bone-deep weariness that clings to him like a second skin, making itself known with every step. Maybe this is just what aging feels like.

But Kiyoomi's always been diligent—shit needs to get done, and he has to do it—so he gets through his chores, goes to practice, and cooks dinner without complaint. Atsumu had promised to stay late at the gym to work extra with their newest outside hitter, so he only arrives home

just as everything's been set out. The first thing he says after sitting down's a quick thanks. Then he gives Kiyoomi a long look, cocking his head to the side. The second thing out of his mouth's a brusque, "Ya look like death." "Thanks," Kiyoomi says. "I feel like it too."

He's not surprised that, despite his reticence, Atsumu read him like a book. Atsumu's always been an observant person—it makes sense to Kiyoomi, considering his role as a setter. But most usually find this surprising given Atsumu's...general existence as a nuisance and an idiot.

The trick is knowing that even though Atsumu's always taking in information, he just often chooses to ignore it and act counter to rational judgement. But with Kiyoomi, he's always been intentional, attuned. Atsumu gives a sheepish chuckle. "Sorry, didn't mean no harm. Just

said as I saw it without thinkin'." "You've never thought before speaking, so why would you start now?" Kiyoomi takes a sip of his tea. "No harm, no foul." Atsumu nods, then leans an elbow against the table to prop his chin on his hand. "Wanna talk about it?" Kiyoomi shrugs.

"There's not much to say. I'm just withering away with time." Atsumu chortles. "Dramatic as always, Omi-Omi. For real, though, I think I get it. Yuki-kun's fuckin' relentless—reminds me of playin' with Shouyou-kun..." The attention shifts away from Kiyoomi as Atsumu prattles

on about his late practice today, then transitions into reminiscing over their best games, then skips five steps into a tangent about banana slugs. Kiyoomi hums and adds scathing commentary where appropriate, but Atsumu has always been able to talk enough for the both of them.

The imbalance of time spent speaking is routine for them at this point, and Kiyoomi wouldn't have it any other way. Listening is much easier than talking At the end of the meal, Atsumu scoops up their plates and dumps them in the sink to let them soak. Once he disappears,

Kiyoomi lets his eyes fall shut for several seconds, minutes, who knows, before dragging himself off his ass to wash dishes. (Atsumu knows better at this point than to offer to clean up—the only person who can meet Kiyoomi's dishwashing standards is Kiyoomi himself.)

Today, though, as he nearly falls asleep on his feet scrubbing away at a stain on the cast iron, Kiyoomi wishes that he could trust others enough to take a break. "Oi, Omi-kun," comes Atsumu's voice out of nowhere when Kiyoomi's on his last dish. He doesn't even have the energy

to startle, merely panning his gaze over to where Atsumu's shown up at his side. "Come upstairs when you're done." Kiyoomi offers a weak nod, then turns his attention back to the sink. Atsumu sticks around for one, two seconds before planting a soft kiss against Kiyoomi's

forehead and skipping off. Flushing, Kiyoomi's lips turn down into a pout as he hears Atsumu's footsteps rapidly ascend the stairs. Atsumu can't just leave him down here—not only tired but now all /warm/ on the inside. He's one misstep close to fainting where he stands.

But Kiyoomi, as always, sees his word through until the end. Setting the last dish on the drying rack, he goes to climb the stairs. He sighs as he gazes up the flight of exactly twelve steps. It's twelve too many for him to handle now. He's practically on his hands and knees as

he clambers up them. (He'd never /actually/ let his hands touch the floor without gloves, though, ew, disgusting.) "In the bathroom!" Atsumu's voice calls, muffled. Kiyoomi walks down the hall to find Atsumu indeed in the bathroom, already showered and extremely nude.

"So, I have an idea." Kiyoomi eyes the bathtub, which is filled with steaming water and topped off with an obscene amount of bubbles. "Okay..." Atsumu's ideas have a hit to miss ratio of about 5:95. Kiyoomi usually at least lets him speak his mind, though, before rejecting him.

"So, my ma was a workin' woman," Atsumu starts, "always held two jobs tryna take care of me and Samu. So she didn't have a lotta free time while raisin' us." "Get to the point." Their luxurious king bed is one room away. Kiyoomi's patience is running thin. Atsumu just chuckles,

taking it in stride. "Well, every time she /did/ have a snippet of time to herself, ya know what she did?" He doesn't give Kiyoomi long enough to form a witty response before barrelling on, "She took a bath." Atsumu pitches his voice higher, making it slightly nasally. "'Melts

tha stress right off me, I swear, Tsumu. Like Jesus Christ, I was born anew e'ry time I climbed outta that water.'" "But I'm not stressed," is Kiyoomi's instinctual response. "Omi, you're /always/ stressed." Kiyoomi thinks about his dishes and his trust issues. "Touché."

Atsumu huffs out a laugh, then steps closer to Kiyoomi, taking his hands. "So, why dontcha take a bath? Not a quick dip—but a nice, deep soak? I'll even help wash ya off beforehand." He gestures to the stool in the shower. "Sound good?" Kiyoomi's rationality once more speaks for

him. "I can shower off myself, though." Atsumu sighs. "S'not about whether you /can/ or /can't/. You're tired, I'm less tired, so I wanna help." He adjusts his grip on Kiyoomi's hands so that their palms press together, fingers interlocking. "Lemme take care of ya, Omi."

Kiyoomi's heart skips a beat in his chest. That's it, that's the final straw—he's going to faint. But when he doesn't instantly crumple to the floor, he looks up. His rationality flies out his ear and splats on the tile as he meets Atsumu's determined, earnest gaze. "Okay."

Atsumu's proceeding grin drips with victory. He quickly guides Kiyoomi into the shower, plopping him down on the wooden stool. With deft hands, he soaks and shampoos Kiyoomi's curls, his nails deep enough to scratch against Kiyoomi's scalp. Kiyoomi shuts his eyes as Atsumu talks

and works and works and talks—the background chatter more soothing than Kiyoomi would ever admit aloud. Next, he makes Kiyoomi stand and scrubs him head to toe, a loofah in one hand, a bar of soap in the other. He does such a thorough job that Kiyoomi can't find anything to

critique. Instead, he lies, claiming Atsumu didn't get his back well enough just so he can get another backrub, and to ensure Atsumu's ego remains in check. Soon enough, Atsumu's ushering him to the bathtub—if it can even be called a "tub." It's fucking massive for no reason.

(hahahehehoho it's me, your local jester, back at it writing a pwp thread & hitting tweet limit before getting even remotely close the to porn 🤪 absolutely no one is surprised. I'll write tn till I probably get to the very beginning of it, but can't finish till tmrw sry 🤡💞)

They just moved into this new apartment, and Kiyoomi still isn't over how unnecessarily large it is. Like the architects really thought it was smart to include a fucking Jacuzzi but not central AC. Whatever. Kiyoomi's dealt plenty with the irrationally of the human species.

Even though he can smell the lingering scent of cleaner, Kiyoomi still asks, "Did you scrub it down beforehand?" Atsumu rolls his eyes. "Duh. It's as clean as a whistle." "The mouthpiece of a whistle is actually very dirty, considering people put their mouth repeatedly over—"

Atsumu slaps him on the butt—hard. "Stop bein' a smart ass and get in the water." Kiyoomi sends him a withering glare before stepping into the basin. The nearly scalding water is a shock, but Kiyoomi plunges his body neck-down into it. He's no quitter. Atsumu makes sure that

he's settled before saying, "I'mma go do something real quick, you get comfy." He's out the door before Kiyoomi can reply. Kiyoomi sits there, arms wrapped around his knees, glaring at the door, for a minute, just because he's stubborn and he can. But when Atsumu doesn't return,

he finally gives up, shifting to lay against the backrest opposite to the spigot. He stretches his legs out in front of him before letting out a deep breath, sinking into the water just below his chin in tandem. And, goddamn, this /does/ feel nice. With his lifestyle, he often

showers after practice at the gym, so when he cleans off at home, he's so used to that that he's long foregone the usual style of bathing afterwards. But the warm water against his skin, the steam rising from the tub, the smell of lavender in the air—Kiyoomi begrudgingly admits

it's a solid ambiance. He glares down at the mass of bubbles that threatens to tickle his nose. Of course Atsumu had to kill the mood somehow—and he's not even here. He bats at the bubbles until they pop into nothingness. As time passes with no sign of Atsumu, Kiyoomi

eventually shuts his eyes. He's still tired, after all—if anything, the bath is exacerbating it. And with the tranquil atmosphere, the low lighting... Kiyoomi can rest his eyes, as a treat. But he should know by now that peace never lasts—not when you're dating Miya Atsumu.

The smack of footsteps catches Kiyoomi's drifting attention, and lo and behold, Atsumu pops into the bathroom a second later. He walks to the edge of the tub, puts his hands on the rim, and leans forward. He's still as naked as a winter tree. "Sit up a lil, I'm coming in."

Kiyoomi frowns in confusion. "I thought this bath was for /me./" Atsumu scoffs. "Semantics. I set it up, so I wanna join the fun!" When Kiyoomi's frown shifts to a glare, Atsumu pouts. "C'mon, scoot your butt—sharing is caring." Kiyoomi doesn't budge. "And I do not care."

Even though he's not in the bath, Atsumu looks as pathetic right now as a drowned puppy—his eyes big and hurt, his lip quivering. After a long moment of gridlock, Kiyoomi tucks in his legs, just enough so that his kneecaps break the surface. It's an act of self preservation—

nothing is worse on this Earth than dealing with a pouty Miya Atsumu. Atsumu's expression flips on a dime to glee as he climbs into the tub, sitting down across from Kiyoomi. Because of the stupidly large basin, it's not even uncomfortable, their legs overlapping but not

crunched together. Atsumu tips his head back and keeps his mouth shut for just long enough to allow Kiyoomi to relax. But he should know that it's all part of Atsumu's trap—lulling him into a false sense of security just so that he can shatter it. Atsumu sits up rapidly, a grin

on his lips. "I've got a new idea." "No." Kiyoomi's tired of being nice—he's putting his foot /down./ But this is where Atsumu's selective hearing comes into play: Kiyoomi is fully ignored as Atsumu barrels forth. Atsumu dunks his head under the water then resurfaces. Kiyoomi

scowls as he shakes his head, stray droplets splattering across Kiyoomi's face. Then he dips his hands into the bath, bringing up bubbles in his palms. He smooths his hands against his head, dragging his hair up in a line down the middle of his scalp. "Tadah! Behold—my mohawk."

He sounds so fucking proud yet looks so fucking dumb that Kiyoomi can't help it—he laughs. "You look ridiculous." Atsumu shakes his head. "No, I look cool as fuck. Can't see myself, but can guarantee that." The next moment, his bangs flop into a pathetic lump on his forehead.

Flushing, he quickly reshapes them into a sharp point sticking out like a unicorn's horn. "Cool. As. Fuck. Now, come here, I'm doin' yours." Kiyoomi preemptively raises his arms in defense. "Absolutely not." Atsumu wades towards him anyways.

After a quick quarrel ("You're going to get my hair dirty again!" "It's fuckin' soap, Omi, that's not how it works!") nearly escalating to physical conflict, they strike a deal. Atsumu grins happily as he forms two large balls of bubbles and places them on Kiyoomi's head.

He backs up to observe his work and nearly squeals in delight. "So cute, Omi! Little panda ears... Or maybe weasel's... Omisel..." Kiyoomi tolerates five more seconds of cooing before plopping his palms on his head, quashing the bubble mounds. Atsumu makes a noise like he's

been shot, then spends the next two minutes bemoaning his loss. ("It's called /grieving/, Omi, yeesh, have some sympathy.") God, everyday Atsumu reminds Kiyoomi that his actions have consequences. Atsumu is only appeased once Kiyoomi agrees to lay between his legs,

trying to avoid another bout of Pouty Atsumu mode. They switch sides, Atsumu's back now opposite to the faucet, and Kiyoomi sighs, aggrieved, before turning around. Atsumu pulls him closer, forcing him to lay against his chest while kicking his calves until they lay flat.

And if Kiyoomi was warm before, now he's /hot/—with Atsumu's skin to his back and the water everywhere else. He wants to put up a greater fight out of principle, but, when Atsumu exhales softly against his ear, he can't bring himself to—limbs like jelly in the all-consuming heat.

Kiyoomi nearly finds serenity, with being Atsumu unusually quiet until he is not. "Man, you're warm." Kiyoomi rolls his eyes even though Atsumu can't see him. "We're in a hot bath." "I didn't say it was a bad thing—lemme finish. You're nice and warm. My belly's full. There's

nothing else to do tonight. Life's fuckin' good, Omi." Kiyoomi opens his mouth to speak, but Atsumu beats him to the punch. "I unpacked the last four boxes in the TV room last night—there really is nothing left to do, so shut your mouth." Kiyoomi closes his mouth. He opens it

again to reply, ten seconds later, "It could be worse." Atsumu squeezes him tight. "You're fucking impossible," he says, thought Kiyoomi can feel him smiling against his skin. Kiyoomi leans his weight back further, keeping a small smile to himself.

(hello tweet limit my old friend.... I swear I'm getting there IM GETTING THERE GIVE ME 10 MORE TWEETS THEN IM GOING TO BED; JULZ IF U SEE THIS TMRW YOU'LL KNOW WHY IM SLEEPING IN 😗😗😗)

Kiyoomi's noticed an interesting difference between the two of them over their many year relationship—namedly, in their ability to relax. It's incredibly difficult to get Kiyoomi in the mindset to relax, but once he's there, he can actually sit still and chill out.

Meanwhile, Atsumu is more laid-back in disposition, but he's a restless soul—if he's not talking, he's moving, or vice versa. It explains his choice of career well: in volleyball, he gets to move /and/ talk. So Kiyoomi's not surprised that, after a single minute of stillness,

Atsumu's hands begin to wander. They skim across his shoulders, down his arms, leaving a warm trail in their wake. When he moves up Kiyoomi's sides, Kiyoomi huffs out a laugh, the skin sensetive. Atsumu pauses and tickles him again—Kiyoomi's proceeding giggle is full of resent.

Soon enough, those calloused fingers continue on their journey, curving around Kiyoomi's ribs and up his chest. He inhales sharply as Atsumu's palms innocently slide over his nipples, down his arms again until they're moving up his legs. Kiyoomi can feel Atsumu's dick pressed up

against his lower back, quickly filling with interest. It isn't helping his own sorry state—Atsumu's fingers trail lightly over his groin, and Kiyoomi's breath stutters. Atsumu's hands find his chest again, palms flush against his pecks as he thumbs over Kiyoomi's nipples—

his intent evident. When he switches to lightly rolling the buds between his fingers, Kiyoomi lets out a pleased sigh, the shock going straight to his cock. "This really wasn't part of my 'get Omi to relax' plan," Atsumu says, right next to Kiyoomi's ear, "but I'm glad it ended

up here, not gonna lie." He kisses the base of Kiyoomi's neck, and Kiyoomi nearly shivers. "You wanna keep goin'?" And all Kiyoomi's done tonight is acquiesce to Atsumu—the one time he didn't resulting in major consequences. What's once more? "Yeah," Kiyoomi breathes. "Okay."

Atsumu kisses Kiyoomi's neck again, a smacking kiss of delight. "Hell yeah." He gives Kiyoomi's nipples a final tug before smoothing down his stomach. His fingers trace around Kiyoomi's groin again, then loosely around the base of his dick. Kiyoomi's fully hard at this point—he

thinks it's fair to be given that their skin-to-skin contact is literally constant with Atsumu under him. But instead of taking him in his hand the way that Kiyoomi wants, Atsumu moves up again, fingers running along Kiyoomi's happy trail. When he reaches the top, Atsumu lets

out a contemplative hum. "What," Kiyoomi bites out as Atsumu's hands stay in place, finger alone tracing along the patch. "Just thinkin' how I coulda made a mohawk outta this." He brings two fingers together over the hairs, then tugs lightly up. "Your dick woulda had a cooler

hairstyle than you." Kiyoomi puts his head in his hands. "You are the biggest boner killer alive." Atsumu finally touches his cock, but only to drag a single finger along its hardened length, from base to tip. "Omi Junior says otherwise..." Kiyoomi braces his hands on the edge

of the tub. "I'm leaving." But before he can stand, Atsumu wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him flush to his chest. "Noooo, Omi, please, I'll stop teasin'. I'll finish your boner off in the sexy way, I promise." Kiyoomi takes another round of psychic damage. "That

sentence was the opposite of sexy." Atsumu hooks his chin over his shoulder. "You're just jealous of my great play on words." Kiyoomi takes one of Atsumu's hands and guides it to his cock. "Atsumu. Stop talking and touch me." Atsumu immediately straightens. "Yessir, Omi, sir."


(hi besties.. sorry i didnt finish this last night i have a long drive today and decided that I needed to prioritize sleep over sakuatsu. I will not be committing this heinous mistake again and will finish this once I get home! cheers to a future dicking xo 🥂)

Atsumu finally starts in earnest, stroking Kiyoomi base to tip languidly. Once again, Kiyoomi is struck by how /hot/ everything is in the bath, Atsumu's hand around him even hotter. Plus, Atsumu's callouses have been tempered by the water, making his grip smoother than usual.

The combination causes Kiyoomi's toes to curl with how good it feels. Then Atsumu begins nibbling at his ear from behind, and the heat inside Kiyoomi surges, hot enough to burn. "/Ah/—" Kiyoomi breathes out, tensing at the onslaught of sensations. Atsumu hums a note of delight—

that sweet tenor doing absolutely nothing to help Kiyoomi's rising heart rate—and then leaves a smattering of kisses down the shell. With a final peck, he latches his lips around Kiyoomi's earlobe lobe. He sucks lightly while drawing circles around Kiyoomi's slit, and Kiyoomi

groans softly, the wave of pleasure that consumes him dizzying. Atsumu's free hand finds his nipple, begins to match the circular pattern of his other. Kiyoomi pants out a string of breathy moans, leaning forward involuntary. Atsumu's hand finds Kiyoomi's shoulder, urging him

to sit back. Once he complies, Atsumu uses a single finger to tilt Kiyoomi's head back until it hits the bathtub's porcelain. "That's it, Omi," Atsumu breathes right at his ear, echoing in his mind. Kiyoomi's breath grows thin, airy, at the intimacy of it all—consumed by Atsumu

inside and out. "Just relax, baby. I gotcha, remember?" Kiyoomi tries to hum in agreement, but his voice cracks as Atsumu twists his wrist over and over, right at Kiyoomi's head. The friction is sweltering, delicious, everything—until it's becomes borderline painful. Still,

Kiyoomi rides it out for a few moments longer, because some wires are crossed in his head like that. When it becomes too much, he says, "I don't know h-how it's possible, but it's starting to feel dry underwater." Atsumu hums and pauses, keeping a lose grip at his base. He

reaches behind himself to grab something perched on the tub's lip. When Kiyoomi hears a lid go /pop/—a very familiar /pop/ at that—he doesn't know whether to laugh or scowl. "I thought you said this wasn't premeditated." "I said it wasn't /planned/," Atsumu corrects, taking

his hand off Kiyoomi to squirt lube into his palm. "But that doesn't mean I didn't consider it as an option." Kiyoomi should've figured that—Atsumu has a habit of taking any situation and making it horny. "You're insatiable."

Atsumu wraps a slick hand back around him. "Let's call it sensible, 'kay?" Then he starts up a rhythm again, this time quicker than last. And if Kiyoomi thought before felt good, now it's /better/—Atsumu's strokes so fluid and tight that he could cry. Atsumu starts playing with

Kiyoomi's chest again as he nips and licks at the back of his neck all the way to the column of his throat. Despite the warmth of it all—the water, the touch, the pleasure—Kiyoomi shivers. The chill sweeps up his spine, and Kiyoomi's back arches instinctively.

Kiyoomi has lost control of himself, his body snapping his hips up into Atsumu's hand. His actions move the water around him, pinpoint bursts of heat exploding along his skin where he shifts. Atsumu slides his free hand down, down, down until he's teasing along Kiyoomi's groin.

Kiyoomi thinks that he's going to go for his balls and gasps when his touch shifts even lower, right along his taint. Then Atsumu presses down, targeted against the outside of Kiyoomi's prostate, and the heat within Kiyoomi erupts into flame.


(if it's of any help, I'm literally going to be late picking her up bc I was too consumed with writing PORN so there's one for the clown history records. We're both suffering in our own way, and I think that's beautiful ☺️💞)

He moans, loud enough to echo around the tile walls of the bathroom. Atsumu's breath hitches next to Kiyoomi's ear before he lets out a low groan of his own, his hips twitching against Kiyoomi's back. "God, Omi, you're so hot," Atsumu says, kissing the base of his neck again.

Kiyoomi wants to quip back something relating it to the temperature of the bath water, but then Atsumu presses down again, and the comment dies on his tongue as his jaw slackens. As Atsumu massages that spot as he strokes Kiyoomi's cock, Kiyoomi can feel the fire spreading

through his veins, all the way out to his fingers and toes. His hands move to the outside of Atsumu's thighs, fingers sinking into the flesh for purchase. "Close," he warns Atsumu, who had been licking a stripe along the shell of his ear. Instead of confirming like a normal

person, Atsumu drives the tip of his tongue deeper into Kiyoomi's ear and hums, the sensation going straight to Kiyoomi's dick. Fuck. The idea of a tongue going into his ear should be mortifying, but the disgust—the taboo—is likely what makes it such a turn on in the first place.

"Time to kill this boner the right way," Atsumu says lowly, and the paradox of his smooth tone and his stupid words makes Kiyoomi want to punch something. (Preferably Atsumu's mouth with his own mouth, but he'll wait until later.) Atsumu drags his free hand up to cup Kiyoomi's

balls lightly. The touch alone is electrifying, but when he squeezes, thunder follows, booming under Kiyoomi's skin. Kiyoomi can't stop panting at this point, jaw slack, breath hot. A little noise escapes on each exhale, as well, increasing in pitch with each stroke on his dick,

each clutch of his sack. "A-atsumu," Kiyoomi says, and Atsumu only increases his pace. "C'mon, let go, Omi," he says, kissing a mole on his neck. "You deserve to." Kiyoomi's toes curl at that. A well-timed tug on his balls and pump over his head pushes Kiyoomi over the edge.

He's always been quiet when he orgasms, and only a small moan slips out as he's swallowed alive by the flames. He feels himself burn from the inside out, grip on Atsumu's tightening. Atsumu guides him through it, whispering calming words that flow through Kiyoomi like ice water

as he strokes slow and steady over his cock. Eventually, Kiyoomi stops burning, the heat of the bath still hot, but his insides content and warm. He floats for all of five seconds before he realizes what else is floating around.

Kiyoomi's eyes fly open, and he stands abruptly, like he's been seared. "Out!" he snaps, and then climbs out himself. Atsumu follows immediately, grabbing the towel from the hook. "Whoa, whoa, slow down there. What's wrong?" Kiyoomi looks at him wildly.

"I'm not about to soak in a bathtub full of my own come." Atsumu's eyes light up with recognition, and then he laughs. "Oh, man, you scared me there for a second. Thought I did something wrong. But nope. Just you bein' you." He pinches Kiyoomi's cheek and coos. Kiyoomi bats his

hand away, blushing against his will. "Shut up." "Ejaculate and evacuate. Jack and evac," Atsumu says, toweling down Kiyoomi's sides. "No, wait!" He looks up, eyes glimmering. "Omi-vacuate." Kiyoomi shoves him. Atsumu cackles before telling him that pushing people while the

tile is wet is dangerous. Kiyoomi shoves him again, and this time Atsumu does almost fall on his ass. Unfortunate emphasis on almost. Once he's done drying Kiyoomi then himself off, Atsumu takes the chair out of the shower and forces him to sit. "I'll be right back!"

Kiyoomi thinks about leaving out of spite, but it's too cold to move; he shudders instead. Luckily, Atsumu manages to go downstairs and come back up in about ten seconds. "I threw these in the dryer," he says, handing Kiyoomi his favorite set of pajamas. "Should be nice and warm

when ya put 'em on." Kiyoomi stands and takes them, their heat so strong that it's palpable. He shucks off his towel and shimmies into them instantly, and, oh my fucking God, this is better than any orgasm that he's ever had. He dashes off to the bedroom to cocoon under the

blankets so that he can preserve the heat as long as possible. Atsumu follows a few moments later, chuckling. Kiyoomi peeks the top half of his head out from under the covers as Atsumu walks around the side of the bed and climbs in. He tugs Kiyoomi against his chest, and they

lay there in silence as the artificial warmth slowly wanes until it's gone. Kiyoomi barely notices, though, thanks to Atsumu's body heat. As Kiyoomi drifts off (he won't /actually/ let himself sleep until he's brushed his teeth, though), he thinks about what it means to care.

He's used to taking care of himself—/has/ to, often, in order for things to meet his standards. Consequently, as a by-product, he then ends up taking care of others, though it's rarely his intent. He doesn't let him /be/ cared for too often, mistrustful, unwilling.

Which is why being with Atsumu is good for him. (There's many other reasons, too, but he doesn't have time to get into that.) Because Atsumu /forces/ his care upon Kiyoomi, who's powerless to act once he's swept up in the currents of Atsumu's bleeding heart. Because how can

Kiyoomi say no when, to Atsumu, giving is as good—if not better—as getting? If Kiyoomi deserves good things, then Atsumu does, too. And if Atsumu's idea of a good time is caring for Kiyoomi, then, goddamnit, Kiyoomi will let go. "Thank you," Kiyoomi says, breaking the silence.

Atsumu's arms tighten around Kiyoomi's midriff. "Anything for you, Omi-Omi." He pauses a second before adding, "So ya feel better?" Kiyoomi nods. "Still tired, but in a good way now." Atsumu shoves his face into Kiyoomi's neck. "My lil sleepy Omi, so cute." "Shut up." Kiyoomi

is tired of blushing today. Atsumu pops his head up. "Actually, could I ask a favor before we brush teeth and pass out? Wouldja mind flippin' over and digging at a knot in my shoulder blade real quick? Yuki-kun really is a beast. And I'm not young and spry like I used to be."

Kiyoomi bites back a sigh. Of course Atsumu prioritized Kiyoomi over himself again. They've talked about this. But Kiyoomi doesn't feel like arguing tonight. Instead, he turns over and puts his hands on Atsumu's back. Atsumu directs him until he locates the spot, and Kiyoomi

lets his displeasure be known with how hard he presses. A perhaps cheesy, unfortunately genuine, thought crosses his mind as he works at the spot through Atsumu's screams and sighs, rough hands on smooth skin:

If this is the cost of aging, then he doesn't mind it if it means he gets to grow old with Atsumu. // fin

This thread was the unfortunate result of me doing literally anything & my brain instantly thinking of a way to make it about atsumu 😩 but also ANNA HORNY ARC COMEBACK FINALLY I feel normal again More threads (scroll further down for more nsfw lol) here:


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