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Miya Atsumu knows he’s messed up in more ways than one.
His obsession with volleyball, for instance. Some would say it borders on insanity. His craving for one more toss, one more touch of the ball to his fingertips. He needs it like he needs to breathe. To see the spike that comes afterwards, the point to their side—it’s an addictive sort of rush. It bottles up in his throat, spilling into his lungs like flavoured water. The feeling is heady and thick and sugary in his stomach in a way he doesn’t know what to do with. All he knows is how to throw the next toss, chasing that ecstasy like he’s hooked on it. A drug he can’t quit.
Some would tell him that’s relatively normal, though. A few of his teammates are the same. Hinata Shouyo, for instance, has a hunger for volleyball that rivals his own. Kageyama Tobio, although not on his side, is addicted to tossing in the exact same way. Bokuto craves that spike. They’re all fucked up on volleyball somehow. They wouldn’t be this good at it otherwise.
Atsumu’s personality, too. People tell him everyday how much of an asshole he is, how completely undesirable his personality is to others. It’s not like he cares. He may be messed up, may make people hate him as much as they like having him around, for entertainment if not anything else, but there’s only one person Atsumu has ever really cared about. Only one other opinion that matters.
This is where Atsumu is messed up the most.
Miya Osamu means as much to him as volleyball. He’d never admit this out loud, but his twin is quite literally his other half. He can’t go a single day without calling him or knocking on his front door. They’ve lived separately ever since Atsumu went pro, which Osamu insisted was best for the both of them, but Atsumu still doesn’t think so. He misses Osamu’s presence in his home. He misses Osamu whenever he isn’t there. If Atsumu isn’t thinking about volleyball, he’s thinking about his twin. He’s thinking about how much he loves his brother. How much he never wants his brother to be with anyone else.
Therein lies Atsumu’s problem.
The first time, he believed the thought to be intrusive. Sixteen years old and picturing all sorts of messed up shit when he jacked off. His teachers, friends, porn stars, other players. Atsumu wasn’t picky. Some of the things he searched up were borderline deranged. BDSM, rape, torture—Atsumu explored all of it. Step-mother. Step-sister. Step-brother.
Twins.
At first, Atsumu was disgusted, despite the way his dick twitched in his hand. His brain was flooded with images of Osamu in all sorts of compromising positions, his brother, of all fucking people, Atsumu was a freak—
It was only supposed to be one time.
The thought never leaves Atsumu’s head, though, all throughout the rest of high school. It lingers through tournaments, through every toss he sends his twin’s way. At night he waits until Osamu is snoring then he sticks the bottom of his shirt in his mouth and cries through another painful orgasm, mouth warbling around Osamu’s name. He wraps a fist around himself and knows Osamu is the same size, wonders if it could possibly fit inside of him. A few nights he allows a finger to trace along the cleft of his ass but he never goes further than that, terrified of the consequences.
Some days are worse than others.
In their third year, after a particularly gruelling game, two of the showers are broken and only one of them is free. “C’mon, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu says, grabbing a towel from his locker. “I wanna get outta here. We can share.”
Nobody bats an eye, because why would they? They’re twins. Twins share everything. They’ve been bathing together since they were kids. It stopped around puberty, but nobody thinks anything of it now. Atsumu stands frozen for a second, watching Osamu walk into the stall, hanging his towel up as well as a change of clothes. He turns around, raising an eyebrow. “Well? Hurry up, ya piece of shit.”
Their usual banter shocks Atsumu into action, charging towards his brother with a scowl. “Yer one to talk, ya useless blabbering oaf!”
“Tetchy,” Osamu teases, stripping off while Atsumu locks the stall behind them. Atsumu stares at Osamu’s bare ass, struggling to remember the last time he’d seen it. It’s pale, muscles thick and strong, plumper than he remembers it being. Osamu turns slightly to organise his soaps and shampoos, allowing Atsumu’s eyes to fall further between his legs where his cock lays soft, dangling, nestled amongst his pubic hair.
Atsumu looks away, blushing hard. God, he’s so fucked up in the head. Guilt eats away at his chest while he, too, strips down, pushing Osamu out of the stream of water in an attempt to regain some sense of normality. They grapple for a moment, like they always do, pulling each other’s hair while their teammates yell at them to shut the fuck up. They’re eventually left cleaning themselves methodically, keeping the shampoo out of their eyes, wiping the sweat from their skin.
All the while, Atsumu is angling his hips away from Osamu’s eyes, hoping his twin brother doesn’t notice he’s hard. How could he not be, when he’s fantasised about his brother for the past few years? He doesn’t understand it and he never has. He knows he’s sick. He knows he’s messed up. Nobody thinks about their siblings like this, except for him. He can’t help the way his asshole clenches at the sight of his brother’s soft cock, knowing what it would look like if it were hard, wanting it inside of him. Wanting to be fucked against the shower wall while their teammates change right outside. Wanting them to listen, to know Atsumu is in there enjoying being fucked by his twin brother. Maybe he’d pretend to struggle, to call out for help, to act like he didn’t want it. He'd push Osamu away, recoiling from the fingers in his ass. Osamu would have to hold down his wrists, take him without prep. Atsumu knows how loudly he’d howl.
“Jesus, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu grunts, averting his eyes. “Ya do this in the shower here that often?”
To his horror, Atsumu realises that he’d gotten so lost in his own fantasy that he’d forgotten to keep himself hidden from his brother’s eyes. He’s as hard as a rock and it’s impossible to pretend he’s not. “Fuck off,” he hisses, hoping nobody else hears him. “Fuckin’ Pavlov or some shit, ‘kay? Ignore it.”
“So I’m right,” Osamu smirks, nudging his brother sideways with his hip. “Ya do it often enough to react like this just from standing in here. Even with me here, eh? Freak.”
There’s the guilt again, eating Atsumu from the inside. The worst thing about it is that it makes him even harder. He’s bright red, so ashamed and so turned on because of it. Yes, I’m a freak! Atsumu wants to scream, practically jumping the walls of his brain. I’m this hard because of you! Take advantage of me! I'll tell you I don’t want it! Don’t make me say I want it!
He wants Osamu to see how hard he is and bend him over. He doesn’t want Osamu to ask.
“Yer the freak for lookin’,” Atsumu grumbles, reaching over to turn off the water. He’s had enough embarrassment for one day. All he has to do is tuck his erection under his waistband and get the fuck out of here and it’ll go down soon enough.
“Ay, don’t let me ruin yer good time,” Osamu snickers, stopping Atsumu’s hands. Atsumu furrows his brows, not understanding what his brother means. It’s not like he can—
Osamu allows Atsumu to face the stream of water, then turns around so their backs are touching. “Don’t want everyone ta see ya like this, eh?” he whispers, giving the back of Atsumu’s thigh a friendly pat. “Take care of it. I’ll make some noise for ya. Don’t ever say ’m not the best brother ya ever had.” Before Atsumu can process the gravity of Osamu’s offer, his twin is singing off key at the top of his lungs, reaching for the shampoo for a second time. Atsumu’s erection hasn’t wavered. Everyone in the change room and surrounding showers groans at Osamu’s volume, but Atsumu isn’t stupid. He knows what his brother is doing for him.
He's jerked off in the same room as his twin hundreds of times, but it’s never been like this.
With one hand braced against the shower wall, Atsumu wraps the other around his throbbing length and groans as quietly as he can. Fuck, he’s so thick. He needs release so badly and he knows he won’t last, not with Osamu behind him like this, even with the horrible noise. It doesn’t do much to drown out the sounds of his hand sliding along his cock in this proximity. Atsumu wonders if Osamu can hear it. He wonders if Osamu can hear the way his breath wavers, the slickness of his fingers around the head of his leaking cock, his hand slamming once against the wall in an effort to control himself. He jerks himself off like a man starved, lasting barely a minute before he spills all over himself and into the drain, gasping for air.
“Thanks,” he chokes, staring at the shampoo joining his cum down the drain, his cock softening in his grip. This doesn’t feel real. Osamu is still standing behind him, skin to skin.
“Anytime,” Osamu says.
Fuck me, Atsumu thinks. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Fuck me next time. Take care of it for me, next time. Shower with me again. Let me suck your cock. Kiss me. Bruise me. Own me. Rape me. Claim me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
The event certainly doesn’t help to stop Atsumu’s overwhelmingly taboo fantasies.
They graduate. Atsumu goes pro; Osamu starts an onigiri business. Neither of them ever date. It fills Atsumu with a sick sense of satisfaction to know his brother is still single. Every time they speak, he fears that Osamu will tell him he’s found someone, or that he’ll have to suffer through an introduction to a girlfriend. Atsumu has slept with a lot of people since graduation, mostly to try to expel his dirty thoughts for his twin from his mind. It never works, though. He likes to take cock on his hands and knees so he can imagine that it’s Osamu inside of him. Despite Atsumu’s objective interest in women, he’s never pursued any before. He can’t pretend they’re Osamu. He can’t pretend they’re his brother, so there’s no point.
It's fucked. Atsumu is absolutely fucked. He’s never told anyone and he never will. He doesn’t even know how he’s managed not to moan his brother’s name when he comes while being fucked by all those strangers, strangers who could potentially find out his dirty secret if he’s not careful.
Atsumu has to be careful. He has to be so, so careful.
There are times, though, here in adulthood, that Atsumu thinks Osamu might be as deranged as he is. They’re awfully close, even for twins, according to other people. Osamu will offer Atsumu a rice ball, only for Atsumu to eat it from his hands, licking his twin’s fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. They’ll dance together at clubs, ass to hips, basking in the attention it gets them. Atsumu is pretty shameless and Osamu tends to go along with him, but it’s not like it means anything. It’s not like it means anything as Osamu drags a drunk Atsumu home, back to his own apartment, because despite not living together anymore they might as well be. When Atsumu doesn’t have a game or practice the next morning, he’ll crawl into Osamu’s bed, abusing his knowledge of Osamu’s keycode. Similarly, if Osamu doesn’t have to open the restaurant the following day, he’ll find himself at Atsumu’s apartment, cooking in his kitchen, sleeping snuggled together like they did when they were kids.
It's normal. Atsumu swears it’s normal. If he reads too much into it he’ll get his hopes up and then he’ll go even further insane.
“Yer such a brute,” Osamu mutters, hauling Atsumu through his front door. “Can ya lay off the weight trainin’ for a day or two?”
“Not m’fault yer weak as shit,” Atsumu slurs, stumbling into the opposite wall. Osamu swears and grabs him by the hips, guiding him towards the bed with heaving breaths.
“At least don’t drink so much,” Osamu compromises, but he can’t exactly blame his twin for his excitement. They’d had a great win today. It had been close and both teams had shown clear signs of exhaustion at the end. Osamu would never admit to his brother that he’d been on the edge of his seat for the entire thing. Atsumu’s ego is big enough as it is.
Atsumu doesn’t reply, collapsing face first into Osamu’s bed with his ass in the air. Osamu snickers and takes a photo, making sure to capture the drool spilling out of Atsumu’s mouth. When Atsumu mumbles something, Osamu starts filming, hoping to send this to his friends so they can make fun of him tomorrow.
“What was that, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu prompts, hoping it’s something really stupid.
“Ya ‘ver think ‘bout rape, ‘Samu?”
Osamu fumbles the phone, stopping the recording and breathing heavily into the following silence. He gulps, wondering if Atsumu will remember asking him this in the morning—really hoping that he won’t. “What do you mean, Atsumu?”
Atsumu turns over to blink blearily up at his twin. His shirt is dishevelled, slightly stained from beer, and exposing both his belly button and collarbones. The zipper of his pants is undone. He looks well-fucked already. “Rape, ‘Samu. Ever think ‘bout it?”
“I think you should go to bed,” Osamu manages, reaching out to tug at the covers, struggling to get Atsumu beneath them. Usually, he would strip Atsumu down when he’s like this, but he can’t bring himself to do that. Osamu has never judged Atsumu for anything in his entire life.
Ever.
“Being raped, ‘Samu. Dream ‘bout it. All the time. Would be s’good. Would ya?”
“What?”
“Rape me.”
Osamu breathes once, deeply, through his nose, then lets the air back out through his mouth. “Yer drunk ‘nd not thinkin’ straight.”
“I never think straight,” Atsumu giggles. Osamu sighs, shaking his head. Of course Atsumu is joking. He’d never… It’s not like that. That’s not something normal people talk about.
“Go to sleep, idiot.”
“Not ‘n idiot…” Atsumu murmurs, but he’s already drifting off.
That night, unlike every other night they’re together, Osamu sleeps on the couch.
Atsumu remembers.
Atsumu remembers, but he doesn’t know what to do about it.
Clearly, Osamu doesn’t actually believe his twin brother has fantasies about being raped by him. Or having sex with him in general, which is what it started out with in the first place. Otherwise, their routine would have changed, somehow. Osamu acts like that night never happened. He still hand feeds Atsumu his favourite onigiri, still pats his head and pours him drinks, still rubs the small of his back and nuzzles into his neck when his nose gets cold. He’s surely disgusted, though, Atsumu thinks. He asked his twin brother to rape him. And Osamu hasn’t even brought it up!
Maybe Atsumu has to say something. Clear the air, say it was some sick idea of Hinata’s. The air isn’t even clouded, though. Atsumu is probably the only one thinking about it. Why isn’t Osamu thinking about it? Or doing anything about it? Mentioning it? Asking for clarification?
Atsumu is pretending to sleep with his head in Osamu’s lap a few days later, contemplating his options. Osamu’s fingers are idly playing with his hair, watching something boring on the TV that Atsumu isn’t interested in. Atsumu pretends to turn over in his sleep, huffing and breathing out against Osamu’s stomach. His head is nestled against Osamu’s crotch. He doesn’t know why he does it. He just wants answers. He doesn’t know what else to do.
Osamu laughs, tightening his fingers in Atsumu’s hair. “I know yer not asleep, dumbass. We’re twins.”
“Fuck you,” Atsumu grunts, turning onto his back, glaring up at his other half. “Ya coulda least played along.”
“To what game?”
“Ya weren’t weirded out by me askin’ ya to rape me,” Atsumu blurts, then gets up as quick as he can and runs to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
Shit. Shit!
“Atsumu!” Atsumu hears, but he ignores it, throwing himself under his covers, shoving his head beneath a pillow and screaming. In his haste to get away, he forgets to lock his door, which of course means his brother comes barrelling after him. “Fuckin’—”
They wrestle. Atsumu could easily win, because he’s stronger now, but he doesn’t. He lets Osamu pin his wrists above his head. He lets their heavy breaths mingle between them. He squirms and feels hot between his legs when Osamu forces him back down again.
“I’m disgusting,” Atsumu says. He means how he feels about his twin brother. He means how he feels about what he wants his twin brother to do to him, what he thinks he might let anyone do to him. He means all the other deranged and awful things he thinks about when he gets himself off. Things beyond rape. Things beyond Miya Osamu.
“I know,” Osamu says. “Me too,” Osamu says, and kisses him.
Atsumu moans, surprised, but pulls away before he can kiss his brother back. “No,” he says against searching lips, turning his hot face away. “We can’t, it’s wrong, we shouldn’t—”
“Shut up,” Osamu interrupts, kissing him again. Atsumu continues to struggle, to try to break away, but Osamu claims his mouth and keeps him still, pushing a thigh between his legs, snickering when he feels how hard Atsumu is against him. “Eager, huh?” he laughs, grinding down, laughing even louder when Atsumu whimpers. “Bit pathetic, don’t’cha think? Hard in yer pants from bein’ held down by yer twin brother?”
“Get off me,” Atsumu grunts, kicking his legs out, hissing when Osamu pushes their bodies more firmly together. Atsumu could so easily break free. They both know it. Osamu doesn’t even need to ask. He knows. It’s like he’s always known.
“No,” Osamu says, kissing him again. He licks his way into his brother’s mouth, moaning happily, opening Atsumu up to his tongue. Atsumu squirms, refusing to kiss back, but his mouth is assaulted either way, a complete victim to Osamu’s strength and determination. Spit spills between them where Atsumu’s jaw is pried open and left to hang while Osamu eats him alive, running his tongue along his teeth and lips, sucking all the way down into his throat.
Something thrilling makes its way up Atsumu’s spine when he feels Osamu’s own hardness against his own. It’s taboo, foreign and unacceptable. It feels so wrong, something Atsumu should object, and he’s trying so hard, but Osamu won’t stop. Atsumu wants Osamu to stop. That’s exactly what he wants, doesn’t he? Of course Atsumu doesn’t want his twin brother to touch him like this. That would be disgusting. That would be—Atsumu isn’t like that. He’s not!
Tears form in Atsumu’s eyes. He’s overwhelmed and already feels close to coming. Osamu can tell, so he pulls away, ignoring Atsumu’s displeased whine. “Only a disgusting fuck like you would want to get fucked by their twin, eh, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu snorts, crawling up Atsumu’s body like a siren, pulling Atsumu’s arms to the sides so that he can bear the weight of his thighs down on either one. Atsumu is fully trapped like this, his mouth inches away from Osamu’s crotch. “Looks like I have a dirty, perverted twin brother.”
Atsumu’s already shaking his head before Osamu has finished his goading remarks. “’M’not,” he insists, pulling his head away from between Osamu’s legs as best he can. He can feel the weight of Osamu’s thighs on his arms, cutting off the blood flow. “I don’ want this.”
“Yes ya do,” Osamu says, reaching behind himself to grip Atsumu’s clothed cock in his fist. Atsumu groans, bucking up into the touch against his will. “See? Can’t help yerself. Yer body is telling me everything I need ta know. Yer words don’t mean shit.”
When Osamu lets go, Atsumu whimpers at the loss. Osamu is only wearing a loose pair of sweatpants which he easily tugs down the waistband of, pulling it down beneath his balls so that his cock can spring free in front of his brother’s face. “Open up, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu instructs, leaning over Atsumu’s body, angling his cock to Atsumu’s lips, the angle perfect for him to slide in. Atsumu refuses, looking away with his lips shut tight. “’Tsumu,” Osamu growls, slapping Atsumu across the face. Atsumu shudders, legs flailing as he struggles. “Open yer fuckin’ mouth before I knock ya out ‘nd use yer unconscious body.”
“I’ll bite yer dick off,” Atsumu promises, and he looks like he means it, too.
Osamu doesn’t appear fazed. “I’ll tie ya up ‘nd fuck ya right now. With nothin’.”
Part of Atsumu almost keeps his mouth shut thanks to that threat alone. He can imagine it; Osamu throwing him over, tying him to the headboard, shoving his pants down and sticking his cock into Atsmu’s asshole without lubricant or preparation. It would hurt—probably tear. Atsumu wouldn’t be surprised to bleed. He’d be begging for mercy the entire time, begging Osamu to stop, and he’d be totally ignored. Atsumu shivers. It’s tempting.
With Osamu’s cock right in his face, though, and this wonderful game they’re playing, the choice is easy. He opens his mouth, making sure his eyebrows are furrowed defiantly as he does so.
Osamu grunts as he slides in, leaning down on his forearms to thrust completely into Atsumu’s throat. Atsumu chokes, spluttering around Osamu’s thick cock, not expecting it so quickly. Osamu uses Atsumu’s mouth like a toy, immediately going as deep as he possibly can and fucking Atsumu’s face like an animal. “Such a hot wet mouth,” he hisses, ignoring Atsumu’s guttural chokes and cries, throbbing in satisfaction when he looks down and sees the tears streaming down his brother’s face. “Always sticking yer tongue out like yer begging for my cock in it.”
Atsumu tries to disagree but all he manages is a disgusting gurgled sound. Osamu likes it, though, fisting one hand in his twin’s hair and bracing the other against the headboard, fucking Atsumu’s mouth like he would his ass. He abruptly pulls out and turns himself around, keeping his thighs on Atsumu’s arms, but facing down Atsumu’s body. Atsumu gets a moment to gasp for air before Osamu is inside of him again, this time curling perfectly down his throat thanks to the the new angle. Osamu wraps a hand around his brother’s neck to feel his own cock there, wanting to come, but when he looks up and sees Atsumu’s flailing legs and desperate red cock he knows what he needs to do.
“Ya got lube in here, bro?” Osamu asks, taking the weight off Atsumu’s body to fiddle around in his bedside drawer. Atsumu, despite his worn-out body, makes a break for it, tumbling off the bed towards the door. He doesn’t make it far; Osamu tackles him again, hauling him over his shoulder and spanking him across the backs of his thighs. “Not so fast, fucker. Can’t tease me with that mouth of yers and not give me yer other hole.”
“Let me go,” Atsumu sobs, beating his fists against Osamu’s flank. Osamu holds him with one arm and gets lube in the other, throwing his twin back onto the bed and flipping him onto his stomach. Osamu uses his body weight on one arm across Atsumu’s back to keep him down.
“You want this,” Osamu insists, enunciating each word clearly, reaching beneath Atsumu with his other hand to grip his twin’s cock to prove his point.
“No!” Atsumu wails, squirming. “It’s disgusting! I don’t want to fuck my own brother! You’re insane!”
“Hmm,” Osamu says, letting go to slick up three fingers, sticking them all inside Atsumu’s tight ass at once, grinning as Atsumu cries into the pillow. The stretch is painful and nearly impossible. Osamu knows that it must hurt. “That’s the thing, though, ain’t it, ‘Tsumu? Ya don’t want to fuck yer brother.” He reiterates his point by forcing his fingers further inside. Atsumu’s wail turns into a broken whimper. “Ya want yer brother to fuck ya stupid.”
“No,” Atsumu whispers, but he’s losing the motivation to fight. He’s sinking into it, the way he’s always imagined, always dreamed about for the last several years. It hurts, it’s terrifying, and it feels so fucking good.
“That’s the other thing,” Osamu continues, licking his lips. He wishes he could reach a hand down to stroke himself—Atsumu looks good with his ass stuffed full. “Ya want to fight me. Ya want me to force ya. Yer a kinky lil’ shit, ‘Tsumu. But that’s okay. Yer brother will give ya what ya need.”
It’s not enough prep, but Osamu pulls his fingers out and lines himself up anyway. All protests die on Atsumu’s tongue as he feels the thick, blunt head of Osamu’s cock brush against his hole. He gasps, eyes widening, choking on his own breath as Osamu begins to breach him.
“Osamu!” Atsumu cries, struggling with his arms trapped beneath him, eyes rolling as his brother pushes deeper inside, inch by torturous inch. It isn’t easy. Atsumu is tight—far too tight. That’s the point, though, isn’t it? Atsumu wants to feel like he’s being raped, and Osamu knows it. Osamu knows it far too well.
Osamu hisses, biting down on the back of Atsumu’s neck, shaking as he holds himself still. He’s about halfway in and he would keep going, but he’s a second away from coming and he needs to control himself. Atsumu is blabbering nonsense beneath him and Osamu doesn’t have to look to know his eyes are glassy. He keeps pushing, fucking into Atsumu’s wet heat until he’s flush against his brother’s tight ass, completely bottomed out. “That’s it,” Osamu whispers, nosing behind Atsumu’s ear affectionately. “Open up for me.”
Osamu pulls out, then thrusts back in.
Atsumu’s cries are beautiful. It’s wet, but not quite wet enough, the drag slightly painful. Atsumu can feel every inch of Osamu’s cock inside him, taking him without his consent, exploiting his tight asshole. The longer Osamu fucks him, the more delirious Atsumu feels, sounds being pulled from his chest that he never believed he knew how to make. Osamu no longer has to hold him down—he pulls him up onto his knees so that the angle is better and Atsumu does nothing to stop it, face mushed into the pillow, drooling against the sheets like a dog. His arms lay limp beneath him. He feels like a sex doll, tongue lolling out, eyes rolling as he’s taken over and over again. Never once does his cock go soft despite the pain. He feels like he’s been on the edge of an orgasm for hours.
“Tell me ya love it,” Osamu grunts, fisting a hand in Atsumu’s hair, pulling his neck up.
Atsumu doesn’t answer, too blinded by the pleasure in his entire body, feeling incapable of forming words.
Osamu pulls out and spanks Atsumu across the back of his thighs. Atsumu whines at the loss, wiggling his ass enticingly, begging for Osamu’s cock back inside. “Say it, Atsumu. Say ya love it.”
“I love it,” Atsumu groans, sighing happily when Osamu enters him again, immediately resuming his brutal pace.
Osamu leans over Atsumu’s spine to speak into his ear. “Tell me how much ya love getting fucked by yer brother.” Atsumu shakes his head, embarrassed, cheeks heating from the shame. “Really? Even when yer begging for my cock? Ya still can’t say how much ya want yer twin to rape ya every day?”
“’Samu, please,” Atsumu gasps, spots flying over his vision, his prostate well-abused, cock dripping sinuously against the sheets.
“Say it ‘nd I’ll come inside,” Osamu swears, licking up Atsumu’s neck, biting a hickey into the skin. “Admit it ‘nd yer brother will fill ya up whenever I feel like it, even when ya beg me not to.”
Atsumu screams as he comes, shaking against Osamu’s sweaty body, cock jerking, untouched, into the space between his hips and the mattress beneath him. Osamu appears shocked, but doesn’t let up his brutal pace, holding off his own orgasm as he waits for Atsumu to catch his breath. He reaches a hand beneath their bodies to continue jerking his brother off even when his orgasm is finished, just to feel the way Atsumu’s body twitches and moves beneath him as he cries from oversensitivity.
“Say it,” Osamu whispers, refusing to let up, and Atsumu breaks.
“I love it!” he cries, knees buckling. His cock refuses to go soft, purple and stiff between his brother’s fingertips. “I love my brother’s cock! Please, Osamu! Please give me your cum!”
“Even when ya say no?” Osamu teases, pleased.
Atsumu nods, shaking. “Whenever. However. I never get a say. I’m your fuckdoll. All yours to fuck, to claim, to rape, Osamu, please come inside me—!”
Osamu groans throatily as he comes, releasing in thick stripes into his twin brother’s ass. They both tremble all the way through it, collapsing onto the bed beneath them, gasping heaving breaths. Osamu doesn’t pull out, even when he’s finished, enjoying the feeling of his brother’s wet heat surrounding his spent cock.
“Get off me,” Atsumu grunts after a moment, wriggling his hips. “Yer too heavy.”
“Nah,” Osamu says, kissing the back of Atsumu’s neck. “Gonna get hard inside ya again.”
“Sideways, at least?” Atsumu doesn’t seem all that repulsed by the idea—rather hopeful, actually, so Osamu shuffles them over and stays snugly inside Atsumu’s red and puffy hole.
They lay there silently for a while, taking in the sound of each other’s heavy breathing.
“This is super fucked up, right?” Atsumu says eventually, breaking the silence. He sounds uncharacteristically nervous.
Osamu scoffs and shifts his cock inside Atsumu’s ass, as if reminding him he’s still there. “’Course it is, dickhead. Majorly fucked up.”
“…But you’re alright with it?” Atsumu continues, fading into a whisper. “Even though it’s like, super disgusting and perverted?”
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here, ya know?” Osamu reassures him, wrapping a hand around his strong torso. “Besides,” he adds, tucking his chin over his twin’s shoulder. “I like super disgusting and perverted. Think of all the super disgusting and perverted things we can do.”
“Yeah?” Atsumu says, the hint of a smile in his voice.
“Yeah,” Osamu repeats, thrusting his hips a tiny bit, feeling himself hardening up again inside Atsumu’s ass. “Like maybe… Jerking off in the shower together surrounded by all yer teammates while daydreaming about being forced to take cock?”
Atsumu stills for a second, then he’s desperately struggling to turn around in his brother’s grip to strangle him to death. “Ya knew? Ya fucking knew? What, ya telepathic or some shit, ya fucking freak, get outta my ass, I hate you, get fucked—!”
Osamu’s boisterous laughter and Atsumu’s indignant screams carry on for several minutes, but it doesn’t take Osamu long to get Atsumu whimpering beneath him again. Atsumu is weak for his twin brother, after all.