Thread by @erisabesu3

#nsfw #omigiri #osaomi college roommates, established relationship, stress relief, a lil romance, explicit sex, piercings.

"Goodnight," Osamu whispers, pressing a kiss into Kiyoomi's temple and briefly squeezing the back of his neck before disappearing into their bedroom.

Kiyoomi's brows smoosh a wrinkle into the middle of his forehead. He watches him go from his seat at the study table amid the pile of textbooks with color-coded tabs along the edges and stacks of articles he printed at the library set on top of all his research notebooks.

He checks his watch. It's only 8:00pm?? Pretty early for Osamu to turn in, even if his shift the next day at the bakery starts before the crack of dawn.

Kiyoomi humphs and decides /no/, he's not lonely in the slightest. It's better if he's alone to focus because he only has

12 hours left to finish all the revisions to his thesis and get the whole manuscript uploaded, and it's critical that everything be /perfect/. Not just because he tries his best with everything he does, but because he also wants to match—or exceed—the marks that his older

siblings received when they were finishing their first degrees. No one expects too much of athletes in terms of grades, but Kiyoomi doesn't accept his position on the Uni volleyball team as an excuse not to uphold a high academic standard.

He's going to prove that it's possible

to be MVP and also earn top marks on his thesis.

Kiyoomi takes off his terrycloth sports headband and shakes out his hair, scratching nails along his scalp to invigorate his brain. Then he puts the headband back on to keep his hair back from his face so he can concentrate.

It's time to buckle down. He stretches out his wrists, and then picks up where he left off and resumes typing madly on his laptop, as he has been for the last countless hours in the past two days.

He's never had bags under his eyes like this before—he's never shortened

his sleep schedule before. It's a small sacrifice for a temporary stretch of time in order to achieve an important goal, and while he normally sticks to a strict schedule, it won't kill him to miss some z's now and again.

Thinking of sleep is dangerous, so he shakes himself,

but can't help glancing at the bedroom where Osamu's sleeping. /Fuck./ How he longs to go in there and curl up next to his boyfriend and tuck his head under his chin and just... /sleep./

Kiyoomi shakes himself again, and smacks both his cheeks. He can do this. He /will/ do this.

With every bit of the intense concentration he is capable of drawing out, Kiyoomi methodically edits his thesis and double-checks every footnote and citation for proper formatting and punctuation. He submits all 90 pages of it at 3:30am, with four and a half hours to spare.

He closes his laptop, and stretches his arms and back, and then his stiff neck and legs. He expected to be keeling over with exhaustion after finishing, but instead he's vibrating—hands and body tingling with some weird kind of energy.

He's tired—but still /wired./

Huh.

He rubs his face and goes into the bathroom to use the toilet and brush his teeth. When he comes out, Osamu is awake and leaning against the bedroom door frame in eggplant briefs and nothing else, his hair sticking up in a few places from their pillows.

"Didja finish?" He asks, coming closer. The light from the bathroom glints on the silver barbells pierced through his nipples. He passes Kiyoomi and proceeds to wet his toothbrush and brush his teeth, letting their eyes meet in the mirror.

"I did." Kiyoomi takes off his shirt and sweats. He approaches Osamu and rests his chin on his broad shoulder while Osamu finishes brushing and rinses out his mouth. "Did I wake you?"

Osamu shakes his head. "Nah. Was just gonna check on ya. See if ya needed a snack break."

Kiyoomi wets his lips, pretty sure he knows exactly how to use up some of his weird energy. He steps closer and lets their bodies touch, watching Osamu in the mirror as he slides his hands around Osamu's ribs to cup his pecs, fingers on either side of his piercings.

"How nice."

Osamu leans back against him, arching to his touch. "Well ya been workin' real hard, Kiyo. Gotta look out for ya."

"Mm-hmm." Kiyoomi massages his chest, toying with his nipples and leaning kisses into Osamu's neck.

"Yer not nearly as tired as I thought ya'd be," Osamu smirks.

"Wide awake," Kiyoomi admits.

Osamu leans his head back, exposing his neck with a hitherto expression that's partly a taunt, partly a request. Kiyoomi pinches Osamu's nipples and rolls them under his fingertips, pleased to see a growing bulge in the front of Osamu's briefs.

Kiyoomi licks a stripe up the side of Osamu's shoulder, and drops his left hand to grip the length of the eggplant Osamu's packing.

Kiyoomi extends his tongue so his matching piercing glints in the mirror, then teases the tip of it over Osamu's skin. He strokes Osamu's erection

and Osamu sighs, resting a hand on Kiyoomi's thigh.

"An' here I got up early to give ya a back rub and cheer ya on," he comments, voice gone husky.

"Did you, now," Kiyoomi sucks a mark at the crook of Osamu's shoulder where it won't be seen. "Have to say that sounds like the

perfect reward."

Osamu twists so he can pull Kiyoomi into a kiss. "Then lemme treat ya," he offers, shifting his hands to Kiyoomi's shoulders and squeezing gently. Then he frowns. "Jeez, yer nothin' but knots!"

Kiyoomi can only groan, going weak.

"Come with me." Osamu leads

him back to the small living space, passing the study table to the two beanbag chairs they have for gaming or movie nights. Osamu overlays one beanbag onto the other, and spends some time sculpting them just so.

"Here, lie down. Put yer hips like this," he instructs.

Kiyoomi has some reservations, but does as asked and lies facedown on the beanbags. His hips are a bit higher than his shoulders and head, but he's pleasantly surprised to find that the beanbags cushion his weight perfectly like he's being held up by soft clouds, or a firm jello.

He snorts a laugh at this thought, and then sighs. The beanbags relieve all the pressure on his joints and it feels /amazingly/ good.

Osamu chuckles. "Are ya comfy? How's it feel?"

"Mmmmmm," Kiyoomi hums.

"Lemme get the lotion ya like, hang on." Osamu pads away, and returns

shortly. Kiyoomi closes his eyes and listens to the sound of Osamu warming the massage lotion between his hands, then feels the shift of the beanbags when Osamu settles between his legs.

"Tell me if ya want it deeper or softer, 'kay?"

Kiyoomi nods, and Osamu begins a thorough

rub-down, pulling all the tension from his neck, shoulders, and back, and leaving only a languid warmth behind that coils in his belly as those hands continue lower, and lower.

Osamu carefully massages his hip joints, and his glutes. When Osamu starts kneading his thighs,

especially along the inner muscles near his groin and his erection, Kiyoomi's moans grow more insistent.

Osamu knows /exactly/ what he's doing, relieving one kind of tension but igniting another. Kiyoomi's so turned on and yearning for it that he can hardly endure the

feel of Osamu's hands on the back of his knees, and then his calves, and then the tender dips of his ankles and feet. Osamu bends him as he pleases to massage every last bit of stress from between his toes.

Kiyoomi groans, all of him turned pliant under Osamu's strong hands.

Osamu glides his hands back up Kiyoomi's legs, and then focuses his attentions on his upper thighs, his lower back, and the curves of his ass—above, and then underneath Kiyoomi's red briefs.

Kiyoomi sighs, tensing and relaxing depending on the way Osamu's touching him.

"Can I take these off?" Osamu asks, voice even lower and huskier than before.

Kiyoomi nods and lifts his hips up into Osamu's hands, letting him pull the briefs down over his ass, unhooking them from his stiff cock to slide them down his long legs.

Osamu widens his thighs,

and tugs the beanbags under Kiyoomi's hips so his ass is a bit higher than before. Then he kisses Kiyoomi's round cheek, fingers brushing down his taint.

"Can I eat ya?" Osamu asks.

Kiyoomi shivers. He swallows, throat dry. Osamu kisses the other cheek, teasing with his teeth.

Kiyoomi feels heat suffuse his face and he nods, squinting his eyes closed.

/"Thank you,"/ Osamu murmurs, caressing him reverently.

Those words send a hot zing through Kiyoomi's limbs, and he gasps. Osamu nestles into the beanbags, shoulders keeping Kiyoomi's thighs open.

Kiyoomi holds his breath for the first sensations of Osamu's tongue circling his hole, those big hands holding his cheeks apart. He quivers as Osamu really gets into it, licking him all over and gently pressing his tongue inside him further and further, coaxing him to open up.

It feels fantastic but Kiyoomi's rim is so sensitive that every flick is almost too much, every lick into his hole so hard to ride out. Osamu's so fucking good at it too—careful not to overwhelm while drawing out all kinds of tawdry sounds, and still giving him so much pleasure

he goes /crazy/ from it.

When Kiyoomi's as open as he can get from Osamu's eager tongue, he slowly adds his fingers, mouthing the back of his thighs and adding some lube.

His fingers can reach farther inside and Kiyoomi keens with each thrust, especially when Osamu deliberately

strokes his prostate so he twitches, breathy and panting with need.

Kiyoomi's aware that they haven't done much lately since he's been working on his thesis and they really should take their time preparing him. But he wants it so /badly/ he can't wait anymore.

"Samu, /please?"/

Osamu shifts to look at him, but doesn't stop crooking his fingers inside Kiyoomi's tight heat. "Yer still kinda tight," he replies. He slides in a third finger and Kiyoomi quivers, desperate to be filled even more.

"Thought you were giving me a reward?" Kiyoomi challenges.

Osamu chuckles. "Alright Kiyo. Just hope yer ready for it 'cuz I'm gonna reward ya real good."

Kiyoomi does his best to scoff at this remark, but in truth his body's on fire and he's trembling there on the beanbags, more than ready to be connected with Osamu after all this time.

He hears the condom wrapper and swallows, hands gripping into the beanbag. Osamu shifts position behind him and Kiyoomi braces to take his cock, but Osamu drapes his body over him first, kissing the back of his neck.

"Love ya, Kiyo. So proud of ya," he whispers. "Yer amazin'."

Kiyoomi feels a lump form in his throat. /"Osamu..."/

"Shh," Osamu chuckles. "S'okay to just listen. Could write a whole thesis myself on how incredible ya are."

Kiyoomi's face flushes so hot he has to turn away. Osamu chuckles again, kissing his nape and then adjusting

thier alignment so his cock is nestled between Kiyoomi's cheeks. He braces on one arm and lines up with Kiyoomi's hole, thrusting gently.

"Now relax, and let me make ya feel good," he croons.

Kiyoomi lets out his breath and Osamu sinks inside him, pressing all the way until

Kiyoomi's accepted all of him. Kiyoomi moans, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth from the aching stretch. Osamu fills him so completely it's almost unbearable, and the sounds of Osamu's pleasure as he rocks their hips together are so erotic Kiyoomi's skin prickles with

goosebumps.

Osamu fucks him slow and smooth, and the motions are weirdly sensual and comfortable on the beanbags. Kiyoomi doesn't have to do anything—Osamu already set them in the right position for every thrust to stroke Kiyoomi at the best possible angle.

"Hnnnn, yeah..." Kiyoomi groans, relishing the feel of every inch of Osamu plunging in and out of him, long precise thrusts that tug on his core. /"More..."/

Osamu kisses the back of his shoulder and then rams his cock home, forcing a surprised /Ahhh!/ from Kiyoomi.

/"Fuck, Kiyo,"/ Osamu rasps, hips snapping forward again, and then again.

"Yes-yes-ahhh-ahhh!" Kiyoomi pants in time with Osamu's thrusts.

Osamu picks up the pace, leaning his weight forward and dicking Kiyoomi hard and deep, thighs smacking together in an intense rhythm.

Kiyoomi's pleasure builds and builds, and he clenches his hands in the beanbag, arching his back to meet Osamu's thrusts.

"Ready to come, baby?"

Kiyoomi nods—he wants to come—but he shakes his head too—he doesn't want to stop, it's too good, he just wants to /feel./

Osamu's hands grip Kiyoomi's hips, and he maneuvers them so he's got the right leverage to just /rail/ Kiyoomi into oblivion.

"Let's see how long ya can last," he says, chuckling and panting with the effort.

Kiyoomi can't respond, just succumbs to Osamu's physicality and

savors the feeling of being spoiled so thoroughly that he's going to be feeling it for a while after this.

Osamu maintains this brutal pace long enough for Kiyoomi's climax to wind tight as a spring and then catch him by surprise. Osamu fucks him through it, Kiyoomi's yelping

cries probably waking their neighbors. They subside as Kiyoomi comes down, twitching and sighing.

Osamu slows down and makes a series of fierce rutting thrusts until he sucks in a breath and then groans, hips stuttering as he fills the condom. Kiyoomi smiles, enjoying the

sounds of Osamu's satisfaction, feeling a similar satisfaction himself.

"Hnnnnnngh," Kiyoomi sighs, relaxing into the comfort of the beanbags—until he remembers he just came on them.

He motions to be let up, and Osamu carefully pulls out so they can get up. He ties the

condom and helps Kiyoomi to his feet. They look at the mess on Kiyoomi's stomach and the beanbag chair, and crack up. Their mirth is brief—Kiyoomi makes a disgusted face as the liquid on his skin starts to cool.

"Hang on," Osamu says, getting some paper towels.

He helps Kiyoomi clean up, and then offers to take care of the beanbag chair while Kiyoomi's freshens up. Kiyoomi retreats to the bathroom to clean up properly and do his nightly routine. A few minutes later Osamu joins him, comfortably nude, and brushes his teeth again.

Because of this, Kiyoomi doesn't protest when Osamu pulls him in for a deep, sensual kiss.

"How much time do you have before work?" Kiyoomi asks, nuzzling Osamu's neck and mouthing his ear lobe.

"Hmm. Yer makin' a pretty good argument for callin' in sick." Osamu laughs.

"Don't do that," Kiyoomi scowls. "You make the best croissants out of all of them. They need you."

"Aww, that's real sweet of ya," Osamu grins. He angles for another kiss, hands sliding into Kiyoomi's hair. "Prob'ly got a half hour to spare."

Kiyoomi smiles into the kiss, and

leads him to the bedroom. Osamu follows him under the covers, and Kiyoomi just holds him close, twining their feet and letting one kiss flow into the next until Osamu's time is up and he has to leave for his internship at the the bakery.

"Good thing I went to bed early," Osamu says, one hand drawing lazy circles down Kiyoomi's back. "Been nice to have this time with ya."

Kiyoomi frowns. "You went to bed early on purpose?"

Osamu confirms this with a nod. "Figured I'd get up early and check on ya. If I found ya

still typin' away, I'd make ya some grub. But we ended up rompin' instead, so yer on yer own for breakfast, sorry 'bout that."

"I don't care about that," Kiyoomi dismisses this with a wave. Then he hugs Osamu tight. "But I do care about /you."/

"I know," Osamu chuckles, squeezing Kiyoomi.

"I'm /saying/ I love you too," Kiyoomi murmurs into his neck.

Osamu hugs him even tighter, rocking him back and forth. Then he pulls back and kisses Kiyoomi repeatedly on the mouth until they're both laughing, foreheads pressed together.

"I know," he says. Kiyoomi grins, and kisses him once more before nudging him from the bed so he can

get ready for work. Kiyoomi gets up too, finding some proper pajamas, and walks Osamu to the door. They kiss some more before he leaves, and Kiyoomi returns to bed, hips starting to feel stiff, but his heart is full, and he's pretty sure he'll fall right to sleep.

the end!💖✨

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